#conversational excerpts from my life

[seventh-district]

i feel so bad for the people who follow me for the approximately 2 and a half fandom-related posts i make per year only to then probably realize that i spend the rest of my time vent-posting and oversharing in the tags

[skyguytoast]

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN X COSPLAYER!READER - PART TW0

SYNOPSIS: After much hesitation, you finally gather the courage to send Hayden a message. What starts as a simple conversation soon blossoms into something deeper…

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNINGS: none, just fluffy

A/N: Hello sweeties, thank you to everyone who commented and motivated me to try to find any space in my chaotic routine to write... it's short, but I hope you like it🥰 As always, comments, likes and reblogs mean everything to me and motivate me to keep improving! 💖Kisses and good reading! Dividers by @cafekitsune

You stared at the autographed photo for what felt like an eternity, your fingers tracing over the inked letters as if they would somehow make this moment more real. It felt impossible—like a daydream you’d wake up from at any second. Hayden Christensen, your childhood crush, the man who had unknowingly altered your brain chemistry the first time you watched Revenge of the Sith, had not only noticed you but had given you his number.

You still remembered that afternoon vividl y: stumbling into the living room to find your dad watching Star Wars, only to be utterly captivated by him—by the way Anakin Skywalker sat up after that nightmare, shirtless, his golden curls damp with sweat, his tanned skin glowing under the dim light. That was the moment something in your heart shifted, a quiet but unmistakable pull toward him that never quite went away. Over the years, that initial admiration had grown into something deeper—a love for the saga, the characters, the world that felt like home.

It took you nearly two days to save Hayden’s number, hovering over the contact screen like it was a detonator. Another two passed before you finally mustered the courage to type out a simple, Hi.

The second you pressed send, you let out a strangled noise and tossed your phone onto the couch like it had personally wronged you. A wave of nerves crashed over you—what if he had only given you his number out of politeness? What if he regretted it? Were you being too forward by actually messaging him? Your thoughts spiraled, wrapping around you like a thick fog of self-doubt.

You scrambled for a distraction, settling on your ultimate comfort episode of The Clone Wars—the one where Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Count Dooku are captured by Hondo and have to work together to escape. It was ridiculous and lighthearted, exactly what you needed to keep yourself from obsessing over that one tiny text message.

And then, your phone buzzed.

You practically launched yourself across the couch, grabbing it with shaky hands, your heart hammering in your chest. The notification from him made your breath hitch, and you hesitated for a second before swiping the screen open.

"You took long enough, I thought I scared you or something."

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He wasn’t just being polite—he had been waiting. The idea that Hayden Christensen, the Hayden Christensen, had been wondering if you’d text him back, sent a warmth blooming in your chest. The simple, teasing words held a quiet kind of vulnerability, a hesitant curiosity that mirrored your own.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a dream after all.

**

The conversations that followed were effortless, light and easy, as if you had known each other far longer than just a few weeks. You talked about Star Wars—your love for the saga woven into every word, recounting how it had been a guiding light through the darker moments of your life. Sometimes, you playfully diagnosed the characters, slipping references to your college work into casual discussions.

Hayden was fascinated—genuinely engaged—especially when you brought up the idea of Anakin having BPD. He asked thoughtful questions, encouraging you to explain your perspective. You eagerly backed up your argument with excerpts from the novels, pivotal scenes from the films, and moments from The Clone Wars, illustrating Anakin’s struggles in a way that made him pause in appreciation. It was a surreal feeling, discussing the psychology of a character with the very man who brought him to life.

At one point, you mentioned using Kurt from Numb, at the Edge of the End in a paper about PTSD, and Hayden’s response was immediate—his quiet pride evident in the way he marveled at your insight. The idea that his portrayal of such a complex character had resonated deeply enough to be studied made him almost bashful.

Of course, you couldn’t resist slipping in Virgin Territory just to mess with him. He groaned, laughing, before admitting, "When you’re young, things seem different. It was a fun script, okay?" His amused exasperation only fueled your teasing, and the playful back-and-forth left your cheeks aching from smiling so much.

But it wasn’t just movies and college that filled your conversations. You talked about everything—mundane life moments, grocery lists, books you were reading, and even wine recommendations. Hayden had an uncanny ability to suggest the perfect bottle for whatever you were cooking, guiding you to pick out a wine that would perfectly complement your carbonara, for example.

Even though you were separated by thousands of miles, there were these small, stolen moments that felt intimate. One night, he walked you through making pizza from scratch, his voice warm and patient as he explained each step. You followed along, flour dusting your kitchen counter, laughing as your dough looked far less appetizing than his on your phone screen.

“It’s about practice,” he reassured you, his voice holding that familiar, easy charm. “By the time I see you in person, you’ll be a pro.”

The way he said it—when I see you—made something flutter in your chest.

It was easy with him. As if some invisible thread had drawn you together, weaving its way through the distance, pulling you closer with each conversation.

Finally, the wait was over.

Hayden was in your city for the May 4th event, and for days leading up to it, you had been orbiting this moment—anticipation thrumming beneath your skin. The long hours spent talking had only deepened the bond between you, stretching across late nights where he stayed on the phone even after you had drifted to sleep. More than once, you woke up to find a screenshot he had taken of your face, soft with slumber, your features relaxed in the dim glow of your bedroom.

"Too cute to delete," he had teased when you protested, the warmth in his voice making you roll your eyes even as your heart melted.

Now, seated by the window of a small, secluded café—one carefully chosen to keep prying eyes away—you could feel the weight of each second pressing down on you. The golden afternoon sunlight filtered through the glass, casting warm patterns against your skin, but despite the cozy ambiance, anxiety curled in your stomach. The ticking of the clock seemed agonizingly slow, stretching minutes into what felt like hours.

You had just begun absently drumming your fingers against the wooden table, lost in thought, when a gentle hand landed on your shoulder. The touch was warm, grounding, and when you turned, confusion melted into relief at the sight of him—Hayden, standing before you with that familiar, boyish smile.

"You took long enough," you quipped, the words carrying a quiet thrill as they echoed his very first message to you.

His grin widened, his hand lingering where it rested. "Is it weird if I ask for a hug, or does watching you snore on video calls mean we've already crossed that line?" he teased, his voice low and playful, a wink accompanying his words.

"Hey! I don’t snore," you protested with a laugh, shaking your head as you rose to your feet. But before you could say anything more, he opened his arms.

And just like that, you stepped into them.

Hayden pulled you in without hesitation, his embrace firm, warm—safe. He smelled faintly of cedar and something crisp, like fresh air after the rain, and as his arms wrapped around you, a quiet sigh escaped your lips. Your body fit against his as if this moment had been written long before either of you had even realized it.

He held you like he meant it, like the weeks of late-night talks and quiet confessions had woven something unbreakable between you. His palm smoothed gently up and down your back, slow and deliberate, as if grounding himself in the reality of having you there, solid and real in his arms.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed this—not just the meeting, not just the touch, but the quiet understanding that passed between you, unspoken yet deeply felt. His hands skimmed gently up and down your back, steady and unrushed, as if memorizing the shape of you, as if savoring the moment in a way that made it feel infinite.

"It doesn’t feel real," you whispered, pressing your cheek against the curve of his shoulder.

Hayden hummed softly, his breath a warm ghost against your temple. "Then let’s stay here a little longer… just to be sure."

And neither of you moved, caught in the golden stillness of a moment that felt like it had been waiting for you both all along.

TAG LIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld

[theskywithin]

🌙 Excerpt from my Book: Rising Sign Chapter

( link at the bottom of the page )

You may not feel like your Rising Sign at first. But the world often sees it in you before you do. Over time, it becomes a sacred interface between your inner truth and your outer world. So let’s meet it together. Let’s meet you, the way the world first did.

Aries Rising

When I first met you, I thought you were bold, fearless, always charging ahead with no hesitation. You wore confidence like a second skin, as if the world was yours to conquer. It wasn’t just the way you walked, with purpose and undeniable presence, but the way you met life head-on, as if every challenge was just another battle to win. You had an electric energy, something raw and unfiltered, like you were always ready for the next adventure. But beneath that fiery exterior, I soon saw the vulnerability of someone who, despite their bravery, might feel a bit alone in their independence. You push forward so quickly, so fiercely, that sometimes it seems like you’re afraid to slow down. You have a warrior’s spirit, strong, direct, untamed, but even warriors long for a place where they can set their armor down. There’s a part of you that hopes someone will recognize that tenderness behind the fire, someone who will see you not just as a force of nature, but as a person who wants to be understood, just as deeply as they want to conquer the world.

Taurus Rising

When I first met you, I noticed your presence before anything else, steady, grounded, like an ancient oak that had seen countless seasons, and still stood unshaken. There was something calm about you, something reassuring, as if nothing could truly rattle your foundation. Your energy was composed, deliberate, with no need for haste. You moved through the world with a quiet confidence, carrying a sense of deep-rooted knowing, as if you understood that everything, in time, would come to you. But as I got closer, I saw that your steadiness was not just patience, it was protection. You don’t let just anyone in. You observe, you wait, you test the waters before allowing people past your walls. There’s a softness to you, hidden beneath the exterior of strength, a warmth that those lucky enough to earn your trust get to see. You value comfort, beauty, and stability, not out of indulgence, but because you know that life is meant to be savored. And though you may seem reserved at first, once you let someone into your world, they become part of something rare and unshakable, just like you.

Gemini Rising

When I first met you, I couldn’t help but notice how alive you were, how your eyes sparkled with curiosity, how your words danced effortlessly from one idea to the next. It was like talking to someone who had a thousand different stories, and a hunger for a thousand more. There was something playful about you, something light and electric, like you carried the wind inside you, always moving, always changing. Conversations with you felt like stepping into a whirlwind, exciting, unpredictable, never dull. But as I got to know you, I realized that your quicksilver mind was both a gift and a mask. You kept things moving so fast, that it was easy to miss the moments when you felt lost, uncertain, or overwhelmed. You are a chameleon, able to shift and adapt to any situation, yet beneath it all, I wondered, who sees the version of you that stays still? Who knows the thoughts you don’t say out loud? Your brilliance is undeniable, your charm is magnetic, but I hope you know that you don’t always have to entertain. You can just be, and you will still be just as captivating

Cancer Rising

When I first met you, I felt something familiar, something safe, like a quiet harbor in the middle of a storm. You had a way of making people feel seen, as if, without even trying, you understood them on a level they didn’t expect. There was a softness to you, a warmth that made it easy to let my guard down, as if you carried a secret knowledge of the human heart. But as I got closer, I noticed how carefully you moved through the world, not out of hesitation, but out of caution. You don’t open up to just anyone. You hold your heart like a precious thing, shielding it behind walls of observation. You feel deeply, even when you don’t say it out loud. And though you may seem reserved at first, those who earn your trust find a loyalty that runs deeper than any ocean. You love like a tide, protective, overwhelming, undeniable. And even when you try to hide it, the truth is, you care more than you’d ever let on.

Leo Rising

When I first met you, I felt like I had stepped into the orbit of a star, warm, shining, impossible to ignore. You carried yourself with a presence that turned heads, not just because of confidence, but because you seemed to belong wherever you stood. There was something regal about the way you spoke, as if every word mattered, as if the world itself was your audience. You didn’t just enter a room, you took up space in a way that made it feel fuller, brighter. But beyond the golden glow, I saw a heart that longed to be truly seen, not just admired. Your confidence was real, but so was the quiet need for validation, the hope that your light wasn’t just impressive, but deeply cherished. You give so much, warmth, energy, inspiration, but you also crave that in return, a love as grand and unwavering as the love you so freely offer. Beneath the dazzling presence, there is a softness, a deep sensitivity, a longing to be loved for who you are, not just the brilliance you project.

Virgo Rising

When I first met you, I was struck by your quiet composure, the way you seemed to notice everything without drawing attention to yourself. There was an understated elegance in the way you carried yourself, precise, thoughtful, as if every movement, every word, was carefully chosen. You weren’t one to demand the spotlight, but there was something compelling about you, a sharp intelligence that made me want to listen closer. But as I got to know you, I realized that behind that careful exterior was someone who held themselves to impossible standards. You were always aware, always thinking, always analyzing, as if trying to perfect every detail of your existence. There was a soft kindness in you, a desire to be useful, to make things better, yet I wondered, do you offer yourself the same grace you give to others? You are someone who sees the beauty in small things, who values substance over show. And while you may not always believe it, you don’t need to prove your worth, you already have it, simply by being you.

Libra Rising

When I first met you, I noticed your grace, not only in the way you moved, but in the way you made everyone around you feel at ease. You had a natural charm, an effortless ability to connect, as if you knew the secret to making people feel special. There was something refined about you, something polished, like someone who understood the art of presence. You had the rare gift of making interactions feel smooth, pleasant, as if conflict had no place in your world. But the more I watched, the more I saw that this gentleness came with a weight. You seemed to always be balancing, always adjusting, making sure no one was uncomfortable, even at your own expense. You wanted harmony, but sometimes that meant losing pieces of yourself in the process. And yet, when you do stand firm, when you stop trying to make everything beautiful and just let yourself be, you are magnetic in a way that goes far beyond charm. You are not just the reflection of others, you are your own light.

Scorpio Rising

When I first met you, I wasn’t sure if I had met you at all. There was something enigmatic about you, something impenetrable, as if you let people see only what you wanted them to. You didn’t rush to fill the silence, didn’t try to impress, you simply existed with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. You had presence, not in the loud, obvious way, but in the way of someone who carries something deeper than what they show. But beneath the mystery, I saw the depth of someone who feels everything, passion, pain, loyalty, all with a force most people can’t even imagine. You are not detached, not emotionless, if anything, you care too much, but you refuse to let just anyone see it. You are someone who tests, who watches, who needs to know who is truly worth your trust. And those who pass that test? They gain a protector, a confidant, a force unlike any other. Because when you finally let someone in, you do so completely, with a loyalty that never wavers.

Sagittarius Rising

When I first met you, I felt like I had stepped into motion, like you were always going somewhere, always reaching for the next adventure. There was an openness to you, a boundless energy, as if the world itself was your playground and every moment was an opportunity. You had a spark in your eyes, a kind of reckless optimism that made me wonder what it would be like to live as freely as you seemed to. But as I got to know you, I realized that freedom isn’t just your desire, it’s your need. You resist being contained, being defined, because you know that life is too vast to fit into one small version of yourself. You crave meaning, exploration, something beyond the ordinary, yet sometimes I wonder, what happens when you have to stand still? What happens when you have to face the quiet moments, when there’s nowhere left to run? You are brilliant, inspiring, endlessly curious, but even the greatest explorers need somewhere to call home.

Capricorn Rising

When I first met you, I knew you were someone who carried yourself with purpose. There was a seriousness to you, a quiet authority, as if you had already seen too much of the world to waste time on frivolous things. You didn’t rush to prove yourself, you didn’t have to. There was something in your presence that spoke of competence, control, of someone who knew where they were going. But beneath the composure, I saw the weight you carried, the silent expectation you place upon yourself to always be strong, always be responsible, always be the one others can rely on. You wear your strength like an armor, but I wonder, who takes care of you when you need it? You are driven, disciplined, and unstoppable, but I hope you know that your worth is not in what you achieve. Even the strongest foundations need moments of rest.

Aquarius Rising

When I first met you, I knew immediately that you were different, not in an obvious way, but in the way you seemed to move slightly outside the rhythm of the world. There was something unconventional about you, something unpredictable, as if you weren’t bound by the same rules as everyone else. You carried a quiet detachment, an air of curiosity, like someone observing life from the outside, trying to understand it without being completely part of it. But as I got closer, I saw that your distance wasn’t indifference, it was perspective. You see things differently, think differently, exist differently. You don’t conform because you can’t, you were never meant to. And yet, even as you walk your own path, there is a deep part of you that longs for connection, for people who truly understand you. You are smart, insightful, and wholly unique, but you don’t have to always stand apart to be seen.

Pisces Rising

When I first met you, I felt like I was looking through a veil, like you were here, but also somewhere else, caught between realities. There was a dreamlike quality to you, something fluid and hard to pin down, as if you moved through the world like water, absorbing everything around you. You had a softness, an openness, something ethereal, like someone who could slip through the cracks of reality and emerge in another world entirely. But as I got to know you, I realized that this fluidity is both your gift and your burden. You feel everything, absorb everything, sometimes to the point where it’s hard to tell where others end and you begin. You long for something beyond this world, yet you must find a way to exist within it. You are compassionate, intuitive, deeply connected to the unseen, but I hope you remember, you are real, too. And you deserve to be fully here, fully known, fully seen.

🌙 If this resonates, you might enjoy exploring your birth chart more deeply in my book (The Sky Within) , where I gently cover each detail in depth. You can find it here:

thank you for your support, it means the world to me, F.

[virovac]

VETTED and URGENT: FUNDRAISING FOR @hell-bent-in-a-fever-dream's BREAST CANCER Surgey! (cw: heavy necrosis) .

Update april 23! "STILL AT $56/$1400. PLEASE DONATE. WE NEED TO GATHER ENOUGH FUNDS BEFORE THE DAY ENDS. PLEASE"

be warned of medical images in source Some sort of necrosis

The hospital did not do the amputation surgery discussed in previous post due to lack of funds.

As of today they have only $105.

"

Donate here!!! (some pictures of blackened hand)

NOTE:

I just learned that gogetfunding is not mobile optimized, or maybe not even possible to use on some mobile? If this is the case for you, please bookmark until you get to a desktop and set a reminder alarm on your phone or some other way to remind yourself.

Hell-bent is a very nice person reblogging other people's campaigns around the world, and so her brother taking over her account while she is hospitalized has continued that kindness. And now she needs our help. Her breast cancer has spread to her arm leading to nasty blood clotting and necrosis. She has been hospitalized for a while with a family member taking over her blog. She needs money money for surgery, and also to keep her treatment from being cut off

Vetting posts

@kyra45 the scam buster For anyone wondering, this is the original post... someone made a fake campaign stealing pictures from hell-bent, and Kyra45 tracked down the stolen pictures to original source.

@c-u-c-koo-4-40k on Tumblr(23) vetting and explanation why not using Gofundme You may know c-u-c-koo-4-40k for their good work boosting various Gazan campaigns. Hell-bent cannot use gofundme as the country they reside is not one that has access to it. Hence why they are using the site. (it used to be 3.8 rating last week)

Donate here!!! (some pictures of blackened hand)

from converation with friend danandfuckingjonlmao

Excerpt from Jan 13 instragram

I've known Alex for going on three months, but if that isn't enough for people to trust the legitimacy, her fundraiser has been vetted by multiple Tumblr accounts with blogs dedicated to vetting fundraisers. I have also seen the current photos of her arm, which cannot be posted on Instagram or 1 will get my account restricted (or taken down) for posting 'gore’. The photos in the fundraiser are from August. I cannot overemphasise how much worse it's gotten. She is going to need it amputated. She had surgery a couple days after Christmas and has not fully woken up since. She gave her account to her little brother, Vin, who I have been in contact with ever since. Vin just turned 18 and is currently in charge of securing things for his mom and younger sister while his older sister is in the hospital. Alex and Vin lost their dad around the same time my brother and I lost ours, and that's one of the first things Alex and I connected over. I've been doing everything I can to support Alex, and now Vin, but ultimately, because of the world we live in, there is no replacement for money.

other conversations

i haven’t heard from vin in a few days but i can confidently say they need at least $1k more i just realised i never updated you—the hospital wouldn’t even go through with the operation because of lack of funds. i don’t know her condition currently but she just needs to hang on a little bit longer until we can get vin the funds. i can’t believe someone donated $1k though. thank you infinitely for your help viro. i’ll update you with any relevant info that i get from vin. Mar 12 10:47 PM

Dec 27, 2024

alex can’t post the pictures of what their arm looks like now because it will get their account taken down. that’s how bad things are. but i’ve seen the pictures and i can vouch for how dire their situation is. they need life saving surgery and their go get funding is barely crawling up. please. reblogging is always helpful, but PLEASE, if you have anything to spare, please donate. this is so fucking urgent i’m begging you.please help my friend.

Message from her brother:

we still need $1,900 immediately. Hopefully before the 24th so we wouldn't have to wait for another distant yet available date some time in April or June. We cannot wait that much longer. Not with this lack of funds and her health deteriorating.

Someone donated $1k a week ago, and all of it was spent on medication that needed to be purchased outside of the hospital because the in-house pharmacy doesn't have them at the mean time. We have a lot of meds/fees that piled on since the 25th of February.

All I have now is $105 here but this wouldn't last for a week. We have been rejected in all our loan applications.

But thank you for helping us all the time. It is difficult since it is rare to find someone willing to help, but I see your continuous efforts and it makes me feel not that alone. Thank you.

[akawifeyy]

lovesick | smau pt.2 (AKA12)

description: it's getting harder for you and kimi antonelli to deny your attraction to one another. but even the best-laid plans can go awry.

tropes: best friend's little sister, childhood friends, one-sided love, ob87 sister!reader

face claim: daniela avanzini

trigger warnings: suggestive content, hate speech (misogyny & covert death threats), swearing

| note: ahh this was a crazy smau to write 😞 also this is part 2 / 3 fics!

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

@ yourusername: out and about

tagged: @ f1, @ olliebearman, @ kimiantonelli

comments (394):

@ user1: help why did she post a big ass pic of the mercedes team logo? 💀

-> @ user2: Didn't you see she also tagged Kimi? I hate to be nosy, but like... This is getting a little...

@ olliebearman: No picture of me in my Haas is crazy

-> @ yourusername: maybe if you won, i would include it in my posts 💁🏼‍♀️

-> @ user3: DAMN GIRL

@ user4: the nails eattt 👀👀

@ f1gossip: Rookie Kimi Antonelli has been spotted with best friend Ollie Bearman's twin sister, Y/N! Wonder what the Haas driver thinks of this...

tagged: @ kimiantonelli, @ yourusername, @ f1wags

comments (245):

@ user4: this is such an appalling invasion of privacy. what happened to respect and decency?? why are we lwk stalking ppl now??

-> @ user5: HELP it's just one pic? 😭

-> @ user4: imagine if someone was doing this to you. i feel so bad for y/n and kimi 🙁

@ user6: They're soooo cute together omgg

@ user7: sigh, i can't even be jealous. she's literally y/n 😩

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

comments (1984):

@ user8: bruh this is just rage bait, no one knows if she actually was with any other driver 😒

-> @ user9: Yeah Lando has said before that they were just good friends but that Y/N was too young for him

-> @ user10: the fling w paul might be true but it's never been confirmed either 🧐

@ user11: I honestly believe it tbh. She seems like the kinda girl to go around and fuck a ton of guys

-> @ user8: this is so disgusting i might puke 🤮

Instagram conversation between Y/N and a hate account:

@ yourusername has temporarily deactivated their account. (June 13, 2025)

comments (127):

@ user12: NOOO STAYYY PLS WE NEED YOU 🙏🙏

@ olliebearman: Love you sis, sorry you have to deal with all of this.

@ user6: chat I just failed a chem exam and now I see this? Worst day of my life

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

comments (3329):

@ user14: i hope she comes back. i'll fight every hate bot and troll till she does 🤺

-> @ user1: We'll miss her

-> @ user9: her life is no one's business. I hope she finds peace and solace after all of this because the internet is a cruel place

@ user15: This is what happens when ppl don't realize how lucky they are. Y/N doesn't owe us anything.

-> @ user11: I don't know why everyone cares about this so much, Y/N is another nepo baby who's just popular bc of her face and body 🧍‍♀️

Further excerpt from the Instagram conversation between Y/N and a hate account:

@ kimiantonelli: So thankful to be P5 in Montreal!

tagged: @ f1, @ mercedes

comments (694):

@ user16: Help he's so dry

-> @ user9: we all know why smh... 😵‍💫

@ olliebearman: Great job!

@ user17: Not seeing Y/N in the comments feels so wronggg

-> @ user18: ikkk i'm so sad 🥲

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (Three weeks later):

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[aaknopf]

The poet Leila Mottley is coming out with her second novel, The Girls Who Grew Big, this June. Narrated by three young women in the Florida panhandle, the book is about teen pregnancy, female friendship, and the power of community, with a group known as “The Girls” at its center, supporting each other in vital ways on their challenging paths through birth and early mothering. The poetry in Mottley’s prose comes through in this excerpt from the point of view of Adela, a high school junior from Indiana and nationally ranked swimmer with high hopes for college and the Olympics, who has been sent to live out her unexpected pregnancy with her grandmother in the panhandle town of Padua Beach. 

from The Girls Who Grew Big 

After about twenty minutes of sweating myself into a damp droop on the edge of the highway, I saw sand. I’d never seen anything like it, the sand making mountains Noni said they called dunes and what had been trees on both sides of the highway turned into a tunnel of sand and weeds. Later I would learn there was a parking lot and an entrance onto the beach, but all I saw that first time was the dunes, and so I started to climb them. My feet lost their grip inside the sand, my hands turned ashy, and it took me ten minutes to climb to the top, but once I got there, I saw it.      The water.      Ocean not just in front of me but to all my sides, stretched out so it almost blended with the sky on the horizon. Clear but somehow murky. Even from far away, I could feel the sting of salt on my feet, the soft caress of warm water against my ankles. It was nothing I could have imagined before, not in the movies, not in books, not from descriptions of my friends’ Hawaiian vacations. The real thing was grandiose, endless, pure. A magnificent green blurring into nothing, where sight could no longer comprehend her reach.      Sixteen and I’d never seen the ocean. I’d lived in artificial waters my whole life, thought I knew what it meant to absorb. To look out into blue and feel known. But as I slid down the dune onto the beach and began walking across it, my ankles aching, I was aware of how wrong I’d been.      A pool made you feel invincible, but an ocean did the opposite. It reminded you what a fragile thing you were, how every cell that made you up was nothing in comparison to the waves that could take you down as quickly as a bullet shot through your softest skin. And walking on the beach, that white sand fine as powder and squeaky, I felt, for the first time, how this small thing inside me could consume my whole being. How, in a matter of months, I would have nothing to hide behind.      I just wanted to touch the water.      I stepped into the first edges of it, surprised by its warmth, by how green it was, with some kind of algae floating around in it. After touching it, I needed to feel more, so I kept walking. Shins, knees, thighs, the water lapping at my skin, my fingertips grazing it, and as I breathed the sea in, I heard the sounds of them laughing, music booming.      I turned away from the water to see the Girls across the beach, up in that red truck again, and it seemed like there were even more of them than there had been when we drove into town this afternoon, toddlers crouched in the sand. I thought I could see one of them looking straight at me, but I couldn’t make her face out, not before the wave came up and threatened to take me under.

More on this book and author: 

·        Learn more about The Girls Who Grew Big by Leila Mottley.

·        Browse other books by Leila Mottleyand follow her on Instagram@leilamottley.

·        Read Leila’s piece on Harper’s Bazaar for insight into her writing process for The Girls Who Grew Bigand how looking at the past can inform our understanding of our contemporary moment. 

·        Join Leila Mottley at Mrs. Dalloway’s in Berkeley, CA for the book launch of The Girls Who Grew Big on June 24 at 7:00 PM. Leila will be joined in conversation by author Ingrid Rojas Contreras and will sign copies of her book after the presentation. On June 25, Leila will be reading at Elliot Bay Book Company in Seattle, WA at 7:00 PM. On June 27, Leila will be reading at Greenlight Bookstore in Brooklyn, NY. Please check Leila Mottley’s author page for more information about other upcoming readings and events.

·        Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

·        To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.

[resha04]

rottmnt fic rec

I am currently deep in hyperfixation over these turtles, and one of my ways to channel it is doing fic recs. My fic reading experience isn't as extensive as most of the fandom, but I want to focus on reccing those fics that don't seem to be as popular! (at least by what I see on tumblr)

(98% is Leo-centric, though)

Enjoy~!

PART 2

PART 3

Little Scraps of Wisdom by clandestineClairvoyant (series; Splinter & the boys): Lou Jitsu emerged from the lab explosion unmutated, found help in the form of his old friend and lawyer, and the tots live their lives free in the human world. A lot of wholesomeness and generally just feel-good fics that are very well-written, with wonderful OCs.

The Greatest Thing We've Lost by SupremeCommanderOfPencils (multi-chapter; complete; Leo-centric; Leo & Raph): The farmhouse-arc-we-never-got fic. BUT it is not just that. Leo is coping with chronic pain and the loss of a limb, and there's a growing dread (anxiety) in his mind about Raph, on top of all that. The portrayal of his feelings and reactions to all of those problems feel very real and relatable. Honestly one of the best rottmnt fics I've read.

Script by yellowhollyhock (oneshot; Leo & Donnie): Leo is having a not-so-good day and will not talk, but Donnie might just know how to make it better. One of my favorites; it's heartwarming and I especially love Donnie's characterization.

WWLJD (What Would Lou Jitsu Do?) by word_dissociation (oneshot; Splinter & the kids): Several scenes of the early days of Splinter's mutation, how he adjusts to living in the sewers and being father to four boys. The bath scene is my personal fave.

decompress by Tenka (oneshot; Leo-centric, but all the brothers + Splinter + Casey play an important part): Post-invasion fic where everyone is recovering but Leo is focusing more on everyone else's recovery instead of his own. There is a heart-to-heart talk with Raph that involves mind-melding and is genuinely one of the best I've read. The dose of humor and hurt/comfort is just right, and everything is doused in family feels.

I'll let you hit me twice by story_monger (oneshot; Leo & Donnie): Leo got hit with a truth spell, while Donnie got hit with an obedience one. Unsurprisingly, it leads to an important conversation being had. The twins' dynamic is so good here; I love how they have this... system of keeping the fairness in their interaction.

Excerpt: "It was like when he and Leo roughhoused too hard as kids. Don't cry, don’t cry, I’m sorry, look you can hit me too. Hit me back right now; it’s a freebie. I’ll let you hit me twice, don’t cry."

bad blud by bigdamnher0 (two-shots; Leo & Donnie): The one fic that destroyed me. Leo feels like he is left behind, with his brothers going forward with their lives, having new friends, and spending less and less time home. He feels it most acutely with Donnie, and an attempt to fix it with a pair of mystic bracelets backfired - and that's putting it mildly. Honestly, he's trying!! He tried to move forward too, and he didn't have any malevolent intention with the bracelets!!

An excerpt: "There was an ending to this story that Leo could predict. They were careening towards it; by the doorstep of the kitchen, Leo froze with his armful of plates and listened to his family laugh and laugh like they could hear it coming too: the inevitable crash, the moment when Leo’s family stopped being all his—and where would that leave him?"

when I'm nothing new by alwerakoo (oneshot; Leo-centric): In contrast to the previous fic, in this one Leo takes a big step forward in his life. And the entire family is there to support him, including Draxum. This one feels bittersweet and somewhat fulfilling, seeing Leo gets older and wiser and is finally getting his bearing in life.

Fly Our Kites in the Wind by like_theletter (oneshot; Mikey & Leo): Mikey got Leo a new best friend. He's anxious about whether or not Leo will like it or not, though. Very, very fluffy, and very hurt/comfort-y at the same time.

Champion by rbt_lvr (two-shots; Raph & Leo): What if Raph noticed the implication of what Leo said in the Minotaur Maze, and confronted him about it? This makes my heart hurt in the best way.

On Understanding Caring Hearts by ParvumAutomaton (oneshot; Leo-centric): Leo got severely injured in an incident he can't seem to remember. Fortunately, his brothers are all there to care for him. This fic is filled with moments of Donnie being gentle and gently caring, and I relished in it like plant in sunlight. The mystery and the build-up to the reveal is written so well to keep us curious and keep the suspense.

Fafa by KayGryffin (oneshot; Raph-centric): A turtle tot fic. It's Raph's birthday, but it turned out to be a No Day in the lair, meaning that Dad would stay in his armchair and not move for the entire day. Raph tries to not let it bother him, and he does so well—too well—at putting his brothers' care above his own feelings. All the boys are trying, honestly, in their own ways. Fluffy, heartbreaking, and heartwarming all at once, and a humane, realistic portrayal of depressed parent - and children (they're not depressed, just their dad)

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Okay,” he says cheerfully. “Tried YouTube yet? They’ve got tutorials for everything on there. I found a guy who taught me how to change my oil and tie a Windsor knot.” 

“Did you not know how to tie a Windsor knot?” Tim asks, both clearly puzzled and clearly a trust fund kid. 

“Naw, Bruce or Alfie always just materialized it for me whenever it came up,” Dick replies with an easy shrug. “Also had to learn how to shave from Ollie, which was definitely an experience. But Dinah taught me how to smuggle a full bottle of Jack into a bar in fishnets at the same time, which is actually really useful knowledge so remind me to pass that one on later. Donna and I literally saved most of San Francisco and our favorite coffee shop that way once. Oh, and Harvey was the one who explained taxes existed. Did not know those were a thing ‘til I was like, twenty.” 

Twenty-ish, anyway. Well, he’s twenty-three now, probably, so . . . eh, twenty-two at the latest. 

“. . . your life experiences are not universal,” Tim says after a long pause, like getting wooed with handmade nests and giant diamonds by a half-alien superclone and knowing how to tie a Windsor knot at age fifteen is somehow “universal”. No one in this conversation has been even slightly “universal” in their life experiences. 

“Are you telling Superboy about Robin yet?” Dick asks, and Tim–hesitates, a little. 

“I didn’t think it was mine to tell,” he replies carefully. “Most of the Justice League doesn’t even know about Robin.” 

“I told the Titans,” Dick replies with a shrug. “And Uncle Clark.” 

“Jason–” Tim starts, and Nightwing’s sleek feathers all instantly, involuntarily twitch. Tim cuts himself off, and Dick . . . doesn’t say anything, for a moment. 

Jason never told anyone about Robin. 

Though the Joker was pretty bored when he figured it out, apparently. A “real” person wasn’t as interesting as the mask. The mask being a mask wasn’t as interesting, maybe. 

( Dick doesn’t think about how much RAGE it puts in him, thinking about the Joker cutting Jason out of Robin’s wings and finding him BORING. thinking he was LESS than, thinking he wasn’t worth– 

it’s not the time for that. for any of that. 

it’s not. )

“You’re your own Robin,” Dick says. “It’s up to you who you tell what.” 

“I did tell Steph,” Tim says awkwardly, looking away. “Well . . . I mean . . .” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, baby bird,” Dick says. “Like I said: you’re your own Robin.” 

“But you were Robin first!” Tim practically bursts out, gesturing sharply with Robin’s wings. “And it just . . . it feels wrong, to tell people! Like it’s someone else’s secret. I only actually told Steph because I felt like I had to, if we were gonna–if we, you know–but Superboy doesn’t care whether I’m human or not, and she did, and . . . I never felt right about telling her anyway. Just because I thought I was supposed to, not because I . . . sorry. Just . . . I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

( “I’M sorry,” Dick doesn’t say back, because he can never say that to Tim while he’s wearing Robin. 

it never ends up as him saying it to TIM, when he tries to. )

[irb-pascalito-99]

Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

[ckret2]

✨⚠️ Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone ⚠️✨

If you're new here, this is one of those "human Bill in the Mystery Shack" redemption fics, you know the drill: Bill illegally escapes death via reincarnation; the Shack crew imprisons him til they can figure out how to kill him; but they won't, because Bill's gonna make friends with them and literally everybody else in town. Whether they like it or not.

Featuring!! The slowest redemption arc you've ever read; "human" Bill that doesn't decide being trapped in an alien body is fine; show-style episodic plot structure; individual plot arcs for characters you've never even cared about; so canon compatible we even include the dang coloring book; and so TBOB-compatible over a year before TBOB came out that I'm considering taking up a position as the Oracle of Delphi just so Apollo stops barraging me with dodgeballs.

New chapters every other Friday, 5pm CST! Old chapters edited, updated, and posted to AO3 on the alternating Fridays! Yes that's a chapter either on here or on AO3 every week! Yes that includes this week!

For art, doodles, upcoming scene excerpts, and posts about characterization & plot plans, see my #bill goldilocks cipher tag. For the fic itself, the first few chapters are on AO3, but tumblr's 60 chapters ahead:

⛓️ 1 Part 1. Bill returns, in a bedsheet toga.

⛓️ 1 Part 2. Bill tries to murder the Stans & Soos (with time travel).

⛓️ 2. Dipper and Mabel save the day (with time travel).

⛓️ 3. A tense evening as the Pines prepare to get rid of Bill.

⛓️ 4. Plot twist: the Pines physically can't get rid of Bill.

⛓️ 5. The gang goes to a diner at 3 a.m. for hostage negotiations.

⛓️ 6. Bill escapes from Theraprism. [NEW!!!]

⛓️ 7. "How'd Bill get here" flashback; plus, entering his new prison.

💇‍♀️ 8. Bill gives himself a haircut and depression.

💇‍♀️ 9. Bill & Ford grudgingly have a sincere conversation; regret it.

💇‍♀️ 10. The kids decide Bill won't ruin their summer. Also: Pacifica!

🧚 11. Mabel gives Bill the most beautiful makeover ever. (It's not.)

🧚 12. Pacifica advertises Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula. Bill wants it.

🧚 13. Pacifica refuses to share; the twins discover its side effects.

🧚 14. Mabel wins Bill's eternal friendship with arts & crafts.

📓🔺📓 TBOB BOUNDARY: Everything above this line has been edited for 100% compatibility with The Book Of Bill and posted to AO3! Everything after this line has not been edited... so it's only 98% TBOB compatible. 📓🔺📓

💭 15. Bill, Ford, and Dipper have nightmares that are Bill's fault.

💎 16. Ford has a fun day with Mabel but everything goes wrong.

💎 17. The day goes right again thanks to healthy communication.

🎥 18. Mabel's Guide To Local Animals, co-starring Bill Cipher.

🧊 19. Wendy snoops into the weird things happening in the shack.

🧊 20. Wendy meets the weird thing (it's Bill).

🎂 21. Stan & Ford's birthday party! Bill gives evil gifts.

💭 22. Bill "helps" Dipper's nightmares; no one knows his motive.

👁️ 23. Bill's ex is back in town and nobody's happy about it.

👁️ 24. Everyone's even less happy to learn Bill has a sex life.

🧿 25. Mabel and Bill make friendship bracelets! :)

🧿 26. The Pines take Bill to the mall. He wears terrible things.

🧿 27. Bill breaks Mabel's heart (and panics to fix it).

🏳️‍🌈 28. Bill talks his way into going with Wendy to Rainbow Club.

🎃 29. Bill contacts the Henchmaniacs on Summerween morning.

🎃 30. Costume making. Mabel pries into Bill's past, with crayons.

🎃 31. The Trickster's pals trick-or-treat; and Bill terrifies Dipper.

🪮 32. Dipper & Mabel make a poppet to control Bill.

🦷 33. Stan takes Bill to the dentist. In handcuffs.

🦷 34. Dentist & tooth fairy attack. Stan & Bill are still handcuffed.

🦷 35. Bill & Stan reach a painful understanding and stop the fairy.

🛁 36. Anime night; and Mabel makes Bill do community service.

🛁 37. Bill plots escape and runs into Wendy. Dipper panics.

🛁 38. Bill has the worst and stupidest day of his afterlife.

🌅 39. A cultist finds Bill; Bill tries to re-recruit Ford.

🚙 40. Gideon broadcasts car commercials; invokes Bill's wrath.

🚙 41. Bill apologizes for bullying Gideon. lol no he blackmails him.

🌕 42. Bill tells Dipper secrets of the universe; predicts an eclipse.

🌖 43. Gravity is disappearing; Ford and Fiddleford investigate.

🌗 44. Ford & Dipper drag Bill hiking; Bill faces his death.

🌘 45. Ford demands answers Bill can't give as totality looms.

🌑 46. Totality. Bill decides whether Ford lives or dies.

🌒 47. Bill feels rotten but finally explains the eclipse.

🌓 48. Bill has a complete mental breakdown.

🌔 49. The gang limps home. (Plus: a second dimensional eclipse.)

💿 50. Bill finally processes that mental breakdown.

💿 51. Dipper and Mabel try to remember the Axolotl's poem.

📖 52. The gang reads Flatworld. Bill isn't thrilled.

📖 53. Mabel tries to get Bill to talk about his home world.

⚛️ 54. Dipper, Ford, and Fiddleford do paradox physics.

📖 55. Mabel learns college-level geometry.

📖 56. Mabel & Bill have fun; Dipper & Ford prepare for murder.

💀 57. The execution of Bill Cipher.

💀 58. Everything you wondered about how Bill escaped.

💀 59. Everything you didn't wonder about how Bill escaped.

💀 60. Everything you never imagined about how Bill escaped.

✨✨ THE APOXOLOTLYPSE ✨✨

🪐 61. The Axolotl finds the second dimension's corpse. ✨

🪐 62. The 2D massacre is so much worse than the Ax thought.

🪐 63. A building inspection in the Nightmare Realm.

🪐 64. Even when Bill fixes things he breaks them.

🪐 65. A shape meets Bill as the world burns.

🪐 66. The gods & Bill negotiate him leaving Dimension Zero.

🪐 67. The gods deal with Bill not leaving Dimension Zero.

🪐 68. Bill is so much worse than the Ax thought.

🪐 69. THE END: the gods and Bill settle into a new status quo.

📙 70. Soos vacuums the attic (wow exciting)

📙 71. Soos decides how he feels about Bill's treatment.

📙 72. Fixin it with Soos: home redecorating!

🎥 73. The gang makes plans for the night.

🎥 74. Dipper's Guide to the Fremont Nightwigglers

🎥 75. Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers

🎥 76. The aftermath of everybody pulling all-nighters.

🏖️ 77. Beach episode! The Pines fish! Bill tans!

🏖️ 78. Bigfoot, Agent Powers, and the cool teen gang.

Hey!! I posted chapters 61-69 AFTER this chapter, so if you've been reading along and HAVEN'T seen those yet, go back and make sure you've read them!

🏖️ 79. A post-fishing trip evening. The calm before the feds.

🕴️ 80. The government investigates the Mystery Shack... again.

🕴️ 81. What are they gonna do about the feds??

🕴️ 82. They're gonna seduce the feds. Bill learns human flirting.

💅 83. Pacifica gives Bill a makeover; decides he's a creep.

💅 84. Pacifica gives Bill a makeover; decides he's cool.

💅 85. Final prep. Hope nothing goes wrong at the last second!

🕴️ 86. Bill does his best to flirt with the world's most boring agent.

🕴️ 87. A dinner date with (and scheming against) Agent Powers.

🕴️ 88. Bill tells the gang how they'll con the hell outta the agents.

🕴️ 89. Bill & Ford go to the museum; get oddly chatty.

🕴️ 90. Powers suspects something's up with "Goldie."

🕴️ 91. Powers has "discovered" who "Goldie" "really" is.

🕴️ 92. The government recovers their flash drive.

🕴️ 93. This is how cult recruitment works. (& the gang celebrates!)

COMING SOON:

⛓️‍💥 94. Bill and the Stans renegotiate his imprisonment.

The chapters have been renumbered! Chapter 61 about the destruction of Bill's dimension was scheduled to post the week TBOB came out, so I skipped it and posted chapter 62 with Soos. By the time I rewrote chapter 61... it was 9 chapters long. I've now renumbered all the chapters to squeeze in ch 61-69.

This post was last updated May 9, 2025! If you're seeing this post as a reblog and it's been a while since then, check back on the original post to see if more's been added!

[hero-israel]

This is a powerful essay written by Rabbi Meir Soloveichik in 2003. I think it... meets the moment. It's 13 pages and I hope you will read the whole thing, but some key excerpts below (and at the very bottom, some responses from other Jewish scholars who - of course! - gave different opinions).

In his classic Holocaust text, The Sunflower, Simon Wiesenthal recounts the following experience. As a concentration camp prisoner, the monotony of his work detail is suddenly broken when he is brought to the bedside of a dying Nazi. The German delineates the gruesome details of his career, describing how he participated in the murder and torture of hundreds of Jews. Exhibiting, or perhaps feigning, regret and remorse, he explains that he sought a Jew—any Jew—to whom to confess, and from whom to beseech forgiveness. Wiesenthal silently contemplates the wretched creature lying before him, and then, unable to comply but unable to condemn, walks out of the room. Tortured by his experience, wondering whether he did the right thing, Wiesenthal submitted this story as the subject of a symposium, including respondents of every religious stripe. An examination of the respective replies of Christians and Jews reveals a remarkable contrast. “When the first edition of The Sunflower was published,” writes Dennis Prager, “I was intrigued by the fact that all the Jewish respondents thought Simon Wiesenthal was right in not forgiving the repentant Nazi mass murderer, and that the Christians thought he was wrong.” Indeed, the Christian symposiasts did sound a more sympathetic note. “I can well understand Simon’s refusal [to forgive],” reflects Father Edward Flannery, “but I find it impossible to defend it.”......

....Among Orthodox Jews, there is an oft–used Hebrew phrase whose equivalent I have not found among Christians. The phrase is yemach shemo, which means, may his name be erased. It is used whenever a great enemy of the Jewish nation, of the past or present, is mentioned. For instance, one might very well say casually, in the course of conversation, “Thank God, my grandparents left Germany before Hitler, yemach shemo, came to power.” Or: “My parents were murdered by the Nazis, yemach shemam.” Can one imagine a Christian version of such a statement? Would anyone speak of the massacres wrought by “Pol Pot, may his name be erased”? Do any Christians speak in such a way? Has any seminary student ever attached a Latin equivalent of yemach shemo to the names “Pontius Pilate” or “Judas”? Surely not. Christians, I sense, would find the very notion repugnant, just as many Jews would gag upon reading the Catholic rosary: “O my Jesus . . . lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of thy mercy.”

.....There is a wonderful bit of Jewish lore concerning the giving of God’s Torah, in which God is depicted as a merchant, proffering His Law to every nation on the planet. Each one considers God’s wares, and each then finds a flaw. One refuses to refrain from theft; another, from murder. Finally, God chances upon the Jewish people, who gravely agree to shoulder the responsibility of a moral life. The message of this midrash is that God’s covenant is one that anyone can join; God leaves it up to us.

Consider for a moment the extraordinary contrast. For Christians, God acted on humanity’s behalf, without its knowledge and without its consent. The crucifixion is a story of a loving God seeking humanity’s salvation, though it never requested it, though it scarcely deserved it. Jews, on the other hand, believe that God’s covenant was formed by the free consent of His people. The giving of the Torah is a story of God seeking to provide humanity with the opportunity to make moral decisions. To my knowledge, not a single Jewish source asserts that God deeply desires to save all humanity, nor that He loves every member of the human race. Rather, many a Jewish source maintains that God affords every human being the opportunity to choose his or her moral fate, and will then judge him or her, and choose whether to love him or her, on the basis of that decision. Christianity’s focus is on love and salvation; Judaism’s on decision and action.

The difference runs deeper. Both the Talmud and the New Testament have a great deal to say about the afterlife. Both ardently assert that it exists, and both assure the righteous that they will receive eternal reward and warn the wicked of the reality of damnation. Yet one striking distinction exists between these two affirmations of eternal life: only the Christian Testament deliberately and constantly links the promise of heaven with ethical exhortation, appealing to the hope of eternity as the incentive for righteous action. For Christians, every believer’s ultimate desire and goal must be to experience eternal salvation. Leading a righteous earthly existence is understood as a means towards attaining this goal. Jews, on the other hand, insist that performing sacred acts while alive on earth is our ultimate objective; heaven is merely where we receive our reward after our goal has been attained. The Talmud, in this regard, makes a statement that any Christian would find mind–boggling: “One hour obeying God’s commandments in this world is more glorious than an eternity in the World to Come.”

The contrast extends to differing ways of celebrating holidays. In speaking to Fr. Jim about our respective faiths, I told him about the phenomenon of “Yom Kippur Jews.” Many of my nonobservant coreligionists, I said, show up in synagogue only on the Day of Atonement and so experience a Judaism that focuses only on judgment and repentance. They never experience Judaism at its most joyous moments: Passover, Hanukkah, Purim. “I have the opposite problem,” said Jim. “Some people show up in church for Easter only—Christianity at its most joyous. And so they never think about judgment and repentance.”

Both rabbis and priests would appreciate regularly packed houses of worship; but the contrast between the central days of the Jewish and Christian calendars is instructive. Christians celebrate a day when, they believe, Jesus was given his place in heaven and so, at least potentially, was every member of humanity. Yom Kippur, in contrast, is not a day for celebration but for solemnity, a day for focusing not on salvation but on action. Jews recite, again and again, a long litany of sins that they might have committed; they pray for forgiveness, and conclude, time and again, with the sentence: “May it be Thy will, Lord our God, that I not sin again.” While the entire day is devoted to prayer, and to evaluation of past deeds, the concept of reward and punishment in the afterlife is not mentioned once. The only question of concern is whether, at the end of the day, God will consider us sufficiently repentant. Yom Kippur’s climax comes at sunset, during the neilah, or “closing” prayer. After begging once again for forgiveness, Jews the world over end the day with the recitation of “Our Father, Our King,” named thusly because of the first phrase in every sentence:

Our Father, our King, we have sinned before You. Our Father, our King, we have no king but You. Our Father, our King, return us in wholehearted repentance before You.

We ask God for mercy and for forgiveness, attributes of God that Judaism holds dear. But then our thoughts turn to the utterly evil and unrepentant. Towards the end of this prayer, one anguished, pain–filled sentence stands out: “Our Father, our King, avenge, before our eyes, the spilled blood of your servants.” After a day devoted to prayer, synagogues everywhere are filled with the cry of fasting, weary, exhausted Jews. They have spent the past twenty–five hours meditating upon their sins and asking for forgiveness. Now, they suddenly turn their attention to those who gave no thought to forgiveness, no thought to God, no thought to the dignity of the Jewish people. After focusing on their own actions, Jews turn to those of others, and their parched throats mouth this message: “Father, do not forgive them, for they know well what they do.”

Some responses: https://hakirah.org/ShurinArchive/DOC0188.PDF

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 21

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

TW: Non-consensual Drug Use, Hallucinations

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 21

Secrets were unacknowledged truth.

You accepted that aspect of your relationship, knowing there were some parts of Jacob’s past you would never learn because he would never face them himself. Some of those secrets were harder to ignore than others.

That scar was…

Well.

You tried not to think about the way it cut across his chest and torso in a notable Y-shaped incision. It was hard not to know what it was, even if he couldn't bring himself to confirm it. Weirder things had happened in Gotham, but that was a secret you had to carry with you for as long as you stayed in his company. Like all his scars, it was part of his story.

Likely a chapter he wanted to forget.

It didn’t disgust you. Never. You tried to drive that point home on numerous occasions in the days following the incident, but all your gentle assurances fell on deaf ears.

He flinched if your fingers drifted too close to the hem of his shirt or ghosted over where the scar spanned the length of his chest. When you stared too long, he’d hunch his shoulders to make himself appear smaller. It broke your heart to see him self-conscious. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk about it, but he also didn’t want to be alone, and so you were left in limbo, pretending like the scar didn’t exist while he retreated into himself again.

You had your own secrets. He was allowed to have his too. No secrets could be detrimental, especially given the life he led. Secrets kept you safe, even if it killed you stay in the dark. A few kisses didn’t afford you the right to demand his life story before he was ready to tell it. You could wait until he was ready—if he ever got to that point.

“There’s a cocktail hour before the showcase, not that I expect you to join me for that. I want to rehearse my excerpt and meet the other finalists before the presentation begins, so if you’re late, that’s fine. Looking at the agenda, I present third. You don’t have to stay the whole time. I know you’re—”

You looked up from your laptop, noticing the way Jacob frowned at his phone. Fingers worried the tassel on the pillow tucked to his chest. His frown deepened the longer he stared at the screen. Normally, you wouldn’t think twice about it, but he rarely spent any time attached to his phone.

His attention strayed more often these last few weeks.

“Hey.” You poked his cheek. “If you’re going to glare at a screen, at least wear your glasses.”

He looked up, the pinch between his brows softening. “Sorry, I just got a text from—” He scrubbed his face, muffling a sigh. “I’m working on something.”

Work was a broad term that spanned the barely legal all the way to woefully illegal. It was better not to know, and yet, you asked anyway, “The same something from New Year’s Eve, or something else?” You maintained a conversational tone despite your burning curiosity. He rarely discussed his nightly activities, and that wouldn’t change simply because you asked.

“I’m still looking for Black Mask.” He tucked his phone away and shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, then another. By the fifth, you took the hint and set your computer aside to make room for him.  He collapsed in your lap, burying his face in your stomach.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I would believe that if you didn’t sound miserable,” you said as you smoothed his hair. A low purr rumbled in his chest as his arms closed around your waist. His hands disappeared beneath your shirt to trace the ridges on your spine, his favorite past time. At least, he still touched you. You would have liked to return the favor.

Because that worked out so well the last time.

You added, “And you wouldn’t be this clingy.”

“False.”

You chuckled. “Alright, fine. You’re always clingy, but something’s clearly wrong. I want to be supportive, but I’ll let you decide how I do that and to what extent.”

He groaned. “Do you ever ask for help and instantly regret it?”

Not where you expected this to go, but you took it in stride. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m currently kicking myself for asking someone for help. I thought it would make things easier, but I’m just more stressed. I still don’t know where Black Mask is and—” He pressed his face more firmly into your stomach and groaned again. “And now, I owe him a favor despite the fact that he hasn’t really helped me.”

“Who did you ask?”

“It’s not important.”

Your burning curiosity begged to differ, but you let the topic die. You were partly to blame for foiling his plans back on New Year’s Eve. You didn’t mean to, but that didn’t change the fact that you had.

“I wasn’t aware Red Hood worked with others.”

“He doesn’t in Gotham.”

The fluid stroke of your fingers stilled. “And outside of Gotham?”

“I do mercenary work with a small team when I have time. They’re weird like me. You’d like them, I think.”

Vigilante, crime lord, mercenary, avid Jane Austen enthusiast. It was hard to process the mess of contradictions that existed within the man currently snuggled in your lap. It was a wonder how anyone found him intimidating. He was soft. Incredibly so, but you assumed this was a side most people didn’t get to see.

“You have mercenary friends? Who has the time?”

“Not me these days.” He hesitated before adding, “I miss them, but they have their own lives to live. So, do I. Obviously. I’m busy, and I don’t want to bother them.”

It was the first time he’d mentioned friends since you met his friend at the club. Was he one of his mercenary friends? He didn’t look all that special but looks could be deceiving.

Case in point, the man currently melting like butter in your arms.

While you expected Jacob wasn’t the most outgoing person in the world, it was nice to know he had people outside of you to spend time with. You’d hate to be his only friend. “You should make some time for them once you have this Black Mask situation under control. I’m sure they miss you too.”

“Hopefully. If I ever find him.”

“I thought Black Mask wasn’t much of a concern?”

“Not usually, no. I just like to mess with him because I can.”

You snorted.

“Since he’s gone quiet, I’m a little on edge.”

“Why? Because your favorite plaything disappeared on you?”

He scoffed. “Because that’s not like him. I could always count on him being indiscreet and predictable, but he’s successfully thrown me off track. Apparently, he’s planning a big comeback, and I don’t know what that means. Innocent people could get hurt if I don’t figure things out soon.” He pulled you closer to emphasize his point. “Forget it. I know I’m overthinking things. Can we talk about something else?”

Clearly, he wouldn’t be forgetting it any time soon, but you let the topic go. This was more than you expected to tease out of him. “Like how I need to get ready for work in the next twenty minutes?”

“No, not like that, at all. Why would you bring that up?”

“Because I need you to brace yourself for when I extract myself from your arms in about ten minutes.” His grip tightened around you with a pitiful whine. Your heart squeezed. He didn’t make it easy. “I’m at the Opera House tonight. It’s my favorite venue.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because if I have time, I can sneak up to the balcony and catch a song or two before the after party begins.”

“Or you could see a show on your night off.”

“With the price of tickets these days?” You shook your head. “I barely have enough expendable income for a night at the bar with Steph. I would never financially recover from a night at the opera. Did you know they charge twenty dollars for a glass of wine? Insanity.”

He looked up, frowning once more. “I can buy us tickets.”

Your pulse quickened. Us. “You’d go to the opera with me?”

“I love going to the theatre,” he said plainly, “If you want to go, I’ll make it happen. We could grab dinner beforehand and...” He buried his face in your stomach once more, a blush bleeding into the crown of his head. “And yeah.”

 “Are you asking me on a date?”

“I am,” he muttered, “I’ve wanted to for a while, but I didn’t know how to broach the topic without scaring you off.”

You stared at him. “You spend most nights at my place. We’ve kissed. Several times.” You could, honestly, go on. There were a lot of ways you’d gone about this relationship backwards.

“Still.” He looked up again, vulnerability softening his gaze. “I know neither of us are the flashy sort when it comes to these things.”

“And yet, you’re choosing the opera?”

“You deserve to be spoiled sometimes. Please, let me spoil you.”

You had been content spending quiet nights together, alone. If he took you on a formal date, that made this real. Your stomach bubbled with anticipation. Secrets and double lives aside, you wanted this to be real. “I would like that.”

His smile did funny things to your heart. “You won’t regret it. It’ll be the best date of your damn life.”

“It’ll be the best date because I’m with you.” You cupped him loosely by the cheeks. He breathed a sigh of relief, pressing his face into your palm. You squished his cheeks until his lips puckered and, well, he just looked so damn kissable.

If you were a few minutes late leaving for your shift that evening, that was no one’s business but your own.

***

The Gotham Opera House mimicked the opulence and character of neo-baroque Paris. Its fresco ceilings and gilded leaf felt like stepping back in time. Equal parts awe-inspiring and stomach-churning, your admiration of the venue warred with your general distaste for rich people and their frivolities.

But you were a sucker for culture...

You were allowed to be a hypocrite sometimes.

That evening was the opening performance of Puccini's Madame Butterfly, based on a novel you’d had on your TBR list for ages now. You would have loved a sneak peek, but between plating bacon-wrapped water chestnuts and ensuring the linens were pressed, you had very little time to spare.

The house’s event coordinator, Sarah, was on maternity leave, meaning the venue owner, Delilah Cadwell, stepped in to take her place. Your only impression of her up until that point had been in the company of the executive donors as she waxed poetic about the show with a rolled cigarette burning between her fingers. Delilah was passionate about the arts, no doubt, but her riddles were better suited to crafting material for the Riddler than coordinating details for a party.

Delilah swept into the cocktail lounge, the ends of her painted silk shawl fluttering like butterfly wings. When she moved, various bangles on her wrists clinked like wind chimes, offering a thirty-second warning before she arrived. You and Evan paused, having just finished rearranging the cocktail lounge at her behest.

She planted her hands on her hips and shook her head, wiry gray curls bouncing around her chin. “No, no, no. This is all wrong. I wanted to evoke the passion between two fleeting strangers in the heat of summer’s eve when I asked you to reset the room. I feel none of that fire, none of the allure or mystery.” Delilah marched to the nearest table and dragged it unceremoniously across the pristine hardwood.

Your eye twitched as the noise grated on your ears.

“Furniture should face the western wall,” she muttered under her breath, “It’s more romantic. We need to fix this before the show ends. If the donors catch wind that the furniture was facing north, I’ll never live it down.”

Evan sent a pleading look your way, his grip tightening on the back of a dining chair. You threw up your hands when Delilah turned her back, none-too-thrilled by the prospect of moving all the furniture again either, but as the senior server, it fell to you to try to reason with her.

“Ms. Cadwell,” you began with a polite smile, “Why don’t we do that in the executive area instead? We won’t have time to rearrange the whole lounge, but your top donors will notice the effort put into a west-facing setup that’s done specifically for them.”

You knew the game and how to play it, despite loathing it with every fiber of your being. Donors liked special treatment, and this suggestion would save you both time and effort. It seemed to satisfy Delilah, whose frantic muttering died on a beleaguered puff of air.

“Yes, yes. Do that, and while you do, I want the lights dimmed to remind me of a moonlit walk through the French Riviera, and not a watt more.” She clapped in your face which wasn’t the motivating anthem she thought it was. In fact, you were half-tempted to snap your teeth at her and growl. “Chop, chop. You don’t have time to stand around and gawk. The curtain falls in a half hour.”

She swept from the room, shawl fluttering and jewelry clicking with the bounce in her step. Once she disappeared around the corner, you turned to Evan and sketched a bow. “Thank you, thank you. I’m here all night.”

He applauded half-heartedly. “Still moving furniture. Three stars.”

“Everyone’s a critic.” You grabbed him by the shoulders and led him toward the curtained-off area reserved for the executive donors. The room smelled vaguely of jasmine incense and tobacco smoke with a glittering chandelier casting fractals of light across the mahogany walls.

By the time you finished rearranging the various fainting couches and armchairs littered throughout the room, you could hear people filter into the lobby. The curtain had fallen, and partygoers would soon make their way to the cocktail lounge for the after party.

Evan grunted as he wiped away the sweat glistening on his brow. “Here’s to another boring party.”

“Boring?” you jeered as you closed the curtains that led into the private lounge, “Oh, you sweet, summer child. You have no idea what the night will entail, do you?”

He puffed out his chest, which might have been more intimidating if he wasn’t swimming in his shirt and slacks. “I’ve worked enough of these to know what I’m walking into.”

“If this were a charity gala or family party, I’d agree with you,” you mused as you straightened one of the platters one the banquet table. You had it point north, just to spite Delilah. “But after parties are a different beast entirely. Patrons of the theatrical arts are certified freaks.”

These parties ran the risk of spiraling out of control. This particular flavor of rich liked to pretend they were refined and cultured, but once the party started, they dropped all pretense and let loose. You were numb to the debauchery at this point, but the executive lounge was no place for a sixteen—no, recently turned seventeen-year-old boy. Not that your boss listened to your advice when you raised concerns the other week.

So, once more, it fell to you to protect a literal child. You didn’t want to traumatize him when the donors decided to start shedding their clothes.

“I’ll handle the executive lounge,” you decided out loud.

His expression fell. “But I can help.”

“You’ll thank me for taking this bullet.” You patted him on the back. “If I solo the lounge, you’ll have to handle the guest’s out here. Help Mark run drinks if he needs you. You’re quick on your feet. I trust you.”

Evan stood a little straighter. “You trust me?”

“You said it yourself. You’ve been doing this long enough that you don’t need me breathing down your neck.”

He ducked his head to hide his bashful grin. It served as another painful reminder that he was young and impressionable. He craved your approval which was equal parts baffling and flattering. Really, you were not worth the pedestal he thrust you upon.

“Thanks. I’ll go see if Mark needs help.” He spun on his heel and headed toward where Mark organized wine and spirits behind the bar. “Give me a shout if you need help.”

People filtered into the cocktail lounge ten minutes later. Drinks flowed liberally between the guests in the private lounge, leaving them giggly with flushed cheeks. Words slurred as they gushed over the show. The best yet, several people claimed at varying decibels. It might have meant something if they didn’t say that every time a new show opened.

You moved quickly through the room, swooping in to grab empty glasses and replaced them with full ones before anyone noticed.

The first hour passed in a blur.

“Yes, yes. We brought in Ms. Chinen, a renowned designer from Japan to help us craft the costumes for the show,” Delilah explained as she carefully rolled a cigarette on the coffee table in front of her, “It was her suggestion to play with silhouettes and use colored lighting on white fabric to represent a character’s emotional state. Brilliant. Just brilliant.”

“And Yevgeny has outdone himself with the direction. I’ve never seen such a raw depiction of love and sacrifice,” her friend agreed before taking a long drag of her cigarette. Tendrils of smoke seeped between her teeth and hung in the air.

There had always been poor ventilation in this room. Soon, a thick haze of acrid smoke would blur the vision and tickle your nose. Opening the window would hardly make a difference once enough people had cigarettes in hand.

You lingered at the edge of the room, content to blend in with the furniture as the discussion happened around you. So far, the evening had been tame, but that could change on a whim.

“You, there.” Your attention snapped toward Delilah. “Come.” She waved you over with a burning cigarette pressed between her fingers, her natural state.

You hurried over to her side. “Yes, Ms. Cadwell.”

She shoved a full cocktail glass into your hands, thin lips curling with indignation. “Have your bartender remake my gimlet. Too much lime. Not nearly enough gin. You’d think the man never tasted liquor before today.”

Her friend choked on a laugh, releasing a puff of pungent smoke square in your face. You recoiled with her drink, suppressing the cough that burned your throat. The stink of tobacco was bad enough, but that was downright fetid.

“I’ll be right back with a new drink.”

You ducked through the curtain. More people mingled in the main lounge, albeit tamer and more in line with what you were used to at the charity auctions and galas. Mark worked behind the bar, pouring drinks faster than your eyes could process his movements. All without spilling a drop.

“Ms. Cadwell wants a new drink,” you said as you set the glass on the counter, “Said you didn’t make it strong enough.”

He clutched his chest, feigning offense. “She was discontent with my goods. Perish the thought.”

You drummed your fingers on the bar top, feeling a little restless. “I don’t know. Throw it back in your shaker, toss it around, and pour it in a new glass. She won’t know the difference. This is her fifth drink tonight. I’m surprised she can taste anything at this point.”

“You got it, gorgeous.”

You ignored him, unfazed by his flirtations.

As he worked, your fingers tapped erratically, restlessness giving way to full-on jitters. It was like someone had doused you in cold water before shoving you on a bed of hot coal, simultaneously too hot and too cold.

That’s when it hit you.

A deep-rooted sense of dread that struck right before something bad happened. You glanced over your shoulder to study the faces in the room. No one stuck out, nor did they pay you any mind. You were as good as invisible in the slacks and dress shirt that marked you a server, but it still felt like someone was watching you.

“One gimlet,” Mark announced, startling you from your thoughts, “Shaken, not stirred. Have you ever had a gimlet? I could make you one after the party if…”

His words faded to the background as you scanned the crowd.

“Hey! You still with me?” He waved a hand in front of your face.

You forced a smile as you turned back to him. It felt wrong as it fitted into place. It must have looked as wrong as it felt because Mark grimaced. “Yikes. Not your best crack at a smile. Don't tell me they started stripping already?”

You shook your head as you swiped the drink from the bar, eager to return to the executive lounge so you could shake whatever this weird feeling was. “I’m fine. No stripping yet.” You hurried away before he could press the issue—not that there was an issue.

Why would there be an issue?

A haze hung thick in the air when you returned, reeking of decay. Delilah and her friend had gone still despite their animated conversation before you left.

A tremor developed in your hand somewhere between the bar and here, spilling gin over the rim of the glass. You set the drink in front of her. Your presence, the ‘new’ drink she cared so much about just a few minutes ago, it all went unnoticed as Delilah stared at the whorls in the wood ahead of her.

You wiped your hands on your apron. “Ms. Cad—”

Her hand shot out, grip bruising as it closed around your wrist. Your heart leapt into your throat as she dragged you until you were nose to nose. The gin on her breath curdled your stomach. Pupils blown wide. Lips curled away from her teeth. Ash drooping on the end of her cigarette. She stared through you as if you weren’t there.

Her throat bobbed as she visibly gulped.

You tried to pull away. “Ms. Cadwell, what are you—”

She shrieked. You whipped around, assuming there was something behind you, because that was the only explanation for a reaction like that. Nothing. That feeling from before increased tenfold.

Run, it seemed to say, Get out while you still can.

You listened to that voice. Yanking away, you nearly tripped over the coffee table, knocking over the glasses on the table. Gin and whiskey pooled between the cracks in the hardwood, but you had already ducked through the curtain, making a beeline for the hall. A burst of adrenaline coiled with the dread as you used the wall to stay upright. You aimed for the bathroom.

Someplace enclosed.

Someplace quiet.

Someplace where it couldn’t catch you.

What it was? You had no idea, only that you felt it looming on the edge of your vision. Watching, waiting. Not knowing what you were running from was infinitely worse.

You slipped inside the bathroom, locking the door and pressing your back to it for good measure.

Breathe, you told yourself, Just breathe.

You couldn’t catch your breath despite standing still. Gooseflesh spread up your arms, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. You rubbed the feeling away as you inched toward the sink.

Turning on the faucet, you splashed cold water in your face. It was less successful at chasing this feeling away than you hoped. A shiver raced down your spine that had nothing to do with the water.

A bulb overhead flickered, grating on your already frayed nerves. You turned a glare on it, willing it to stop. It, naturally, refused. Sighing, you turned your attention to your reflection.

Your blood coated your veins like ice.

A dark mass lingered over your shoulder—indistinct and blurry on the edges. It leaned toward your ear and whispered, “He lies. Everything is a lie.” You curled your fingers and swung as you spun around, striking air. Ragged breaths sawed from your chest as you glanced back toward the mirror, alone once more.

He lies.

“Who lies?”

No response.

You didn't expect one. Or maybe you did? Your brain was a jumble of thoughts and anxiety, blurring the lines between what was real and what was a figment.

You held your breath, waiting.

A knock shattered the flimsy illusion of calm.

You hit the ground, throwing your hands over your head as if they had set off a bomb instead. When they knocked again, you raised your head and squeaked, “Y-Yes?”

“It’s me,” Evan said quietly, “We heard a scream from the lounge, then you rushed out. You’ve been locked in here for ten minutes and I’m starting to get a little worried. Is everything okay?”

Ten minutes. It didn’t feel that long.

Using more effort than it reasonably should have, you managed to peel yourself off the ground, knees wobbling like a baby deer. Your blood trickled sluggishly through your veins, thicker than molasses. Grasping the knob, you steeled yourself before yanking it open.

Even Evan, dressed in his oversized dress shirt, looked imposing as the dim light cast harsh shadows across his face. He blinked owlishly. “You look awful.”

You glanced back, only you and Evan reflected in the mirror. The light flickered again, warping your reflections.

“Hey. Look at me.” Evan touched your arm. You jumped, putting as much distance between him and yourself. He tucked his hand behind his back, clearly unsettled by your behavior. That made two of you. How did you explain this to him without looking like you’d lost your mind?

Or maybe you had?

It certainly felt like it.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He chewed his bottom lip. “Your skin is a little clammy. Are you sick?”

Your shirt clung to the small of your back like a second skin. When did you start sweating?

“I don’t feel so great,” you admitted slowly.

“You should go home.”

“I c-can't.” You flinched, cursing your stutter. “What about you?”

“What about me? What about you? You’re shaking.”

Sure enough, you were. You wrapped your arms around your middle to curb it, but the tremor bled up into your jaw, chattering your teeth instead. Guilt gnawed at you. You hated to abandon him again, but there was no way you were making it through the rest of your shift in this state.

“I don’t want you going near the executive lounge,” you insisted. You’d seen a lot in your time as a server but tonight would haunt you. You weren’t going to put Evan through it as well until you knew what the hell that was.

“We can’t ignore them.”

I pinned him with a withering stare.

Evan threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine, I’ll ask Mark to help me, but you’re not staying. Do you have someone who can pick you up?”

“I can—”

“No, you aren’t taking the subway like this.”

It was odd being lectured by a teenager, but not nearly as odd as the dark shadows dancing on the edge of your vision. You conceded with a shrug. “I have a few options.”

That seemed to satisfy him. “Come on. Let’s get you somewhere quiet.”

You allowed him to wrap an arm around your shoulders as he led you down the hall. The warmth of another body did a better job as chasing away the shadows. You stepped into the lobby, spanning three floors with a blown-glass sculpture suspended from the ceiling like a cascading waterfall. Swallowing thickly, you feared the vast space would sweep you away. Evan seemed to sense this and guided you into the small seating area near the ticket booth.

You sank onto the velvet couch with a shuddering breath. Evan stooped on the arm, fidgeting with one of the buttons on his shirt. “Do you need me to call for you?” he offered when you didn’t move.

His question took a second to fully process, but when it did, you reached for your phone. “I can do it.”

The next step was far more daunting.

Jacob came to mind immediately, but it was late enough that you expected he’d be on patrol. You didn’t want to interrupt him if you could help it, so you settled on your second choice.

Steph had a car. Even if she was asleep, she was nice enough to make the drive across the city to grab you. She might even let you crash at her apartment to sleep off whatever was happening to you. You found her number and pressed the phone to your ear.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

“Hey!”

“Steph, thank god, I—”

“Gotcha. Sorry, the stars were not in position for this call, and I missed it. Leave me a message, but really, you and I both know this could have probably been a text.”

It beeped.

You ended the call before it went to voicemail. Weird. Steph always answered your calls. Granted, it was pretty late, but that never stopped her before. Your grip tightened around your phone.

What if something happened to her?

What if she decided you weren’t worth the effort?

What if you never saw her—

You clamped down on those thoughts before you lost yourself in them. Speculation wouldn’t help you here, so it was time to breathe and move on to the next person. As much as you hated to bother him, Jacob was the only other person you felt comfortable calling for something like this. You thumbed through your contacts until you found him and hit the ‘call’ button.

It rang several times, each new cycle driving the wedge of doubt deeper into your gut until you could hardly breathe. He was busy, but that weak excuse failed to put your mind at ease.

What if he was in the middle of a fight?

What if he was bleeding to death in a back alley somewhere?

What if—

“Hey?”

The tension coiling in your shoulders released.

“I’m sorry to call out of the blue like this. Are you in the middle of something.”

He hesitated. “No.”

He lies. Everything is a lie.

You whimpered as the tension slammed back into place. It hurt to breathe. “No, you’re busy. I knew it. I’m sorry. I interrupted you, didn’t I? Never mind. It was st—”

“Woah, woah.” He lowered his voice like a whisper in your ear. “No need to freak out on me, lovebug. You don’t have to apologize. I can talk. Are you okay?”

Your lower lip quivered. “I don’t know.”

The beat of silence that followed felt like it had lasted an eternity. “Do you need me to come get you?”

You glanced at Evan, who watched you with pity in his eyes. There was no worming your way out of this one. “Please.”

“Hold tight,” he said, his tone more serious, “Ten minutes tops.”

The line went dead before you could respond. You dropped your phone in your lap and buried your face in your shaking palms. The tremor had gotten worse. “My—”

You didn’t even know what to call Jacob. Friend wasn’t quite right, but boyfriend seemed presumptuous given you hadn’t even had your first date with him.

“Jacob will be here in ten minutes.”

“Do you want to wait outside?” Evan asked gently, “Some fresh air might do you some good.”

“Will you wait with me?” You couldn’t fathom being alone right now. “Just in case—” Just in case the shadows returned. In case it tried to spout nonsense about lies. You refused to fall for it tricks, but company might deter it better than relying on your willpower. It was tedious at best.

“Yeah,” he said as he helped you stand, “I’ll wait with you for as long as you need.”

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

A/N: Hey. So. Were you aware that there was an actual plot to this thing? It's only been vaguely haunting me since the beginning and now, it's here. Yay. Buckle your seatbelts. Let's go.

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[chinolondoner]

!! Serious Readers Wanted !!

Hello, I am an ambitious author committing to penning thoughtful and well-constructed crime fiction through stony flamboyance.

Under the current penname and alias "Chino Londoner" I am in the eye of a whirlwind of inspiration writing the beginnings of what is set to be a longform, episodic, detective series titled Lullaby for Bishop.

Set in a tropical, Latin American city completely fictionalized and pulled out of the mind of the author, the story entails the final days in an aging private detective's career, hoping to lighten the load in his final run of cases by hiring a young and enthusiastic, male partner to smoothen the more tedious and insidious hurdles.

Wanting to give the reader a well-rounded experience when taking on the themes of the story, there will be moments of general levity and comedic punchlines throughout, but ultimately, Lullaby for Bishop is fundamentally inspired by noir and hard-boiled literature and media. As so, the writing will follow in the genre's legacy of smoky fatalism and tinged by a gnawing and pessimistic torment.

The first twelve chapters in this epic saga can be found and experienced for free by visiting my Patreon.

Click here for early chapters!

short excerpt below...

reblogs are appreciated!

(Excerpt from Chapter Six)

“Surely your parents knew about your choice of career path before they passed away,” Nayaiko said.

“Not that it's really any of your business, but my parents and I never really had a close relationship. Not seeing eye-to-eye on certain things, there was never much of an attempt on either end of the wire to maintain consistent contact.”

“That's unfortunate,” said Nayaiko. “There are few things in the world that should be put above strong, family bonds. In Japanese culture, we often inscribe great emphasis in honoring our parents.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't grow up in Japanese culture.” The topic of conversation looked to be a sensitive avenue of discussion for our detective. “I grew up in America. I grew up in California. I grew up in a world full of moral winds and spoon-fed narcissists. I grew up around real-life junkies, part-time junkies, junkies who only meant to wet their lips on the stuff once for a role and manage to never see their grandmother's pained grin ever again. You're going to think I'm crazy for saying this, but my mother actually went through five different accents throughout the lump of my childhood. It was as if this woman was test driving an entirely new persona every other winter flu until she was finally able to discover one that could squeeze her enough money.”

Howl had then looked over at the girls and would take notice of the strange expressions on their faces, such honed and weathered sentiments perhaps a frivolous grade level or two above Nomi and Nayaiko's curated sensibilities.

---

Copyright © 2024 by Chino Londoner

[theskywithin]

Excerpt from my Book: What’s Your Sign? Part Two ( Libra to Pisces )

✨📖 ( link at the end of the page )

Sun in Libra ( September 23 - October 22 )

If your Sun is in Libra, your soul came here to make beauty out of contrast. To take broken things, people, conversations, spaces, and show them how to meet in the middle. You don’t crave balance because life is calm. You crave it because you’ve known what it feels like to be caught between opposites, torn between what you want and what others expect. Ruled by Venus, you are the Lover, the Peacemaker, the Mirror. You see the world through a lens of connection, always noticing where things feel off and instinctively trying to restore harmony. You bring people together not by demanding attention, but by offering understanding. You lead gently, with grace. You listen like it matters, because to you, it does. You have a gift for seeing both sides. For stepping outside yourself and into another’s perspective. And while this makes you a brilliant communicator, a fair mediator, and a beloved friend, it also means you sometimes forget which side is yours. You weigh every choice, every word, every ripple your decisions might create. And in trying to be fair to everyone, you often abandon yourself. You long for partnership. For shared experiences. For love that feels like a meeting of minds and hearts. You don’t just want romance, you want resonance. A partner who sees not only your beauty, but your depth. Someone who doesn’t rush you to decide, but helps you trust what you already know deep down. But when your fear of conflict becomes stronger than your truth, you go quiet. You nod when you want to scream. You accommodate, adjust, apologize. Not because you’re weak, but because peace matters to you more than being “right.” Still, peace without honesty is just silence. And you weren’t born to disappear for the sake of harmony. You’re more than your softness. You’re more than your charm. You carry wisdom in your heart and fire in your mind. There’s a sharpness beneath your calm, a storm behind your smile. And when you allow yourself to fully show up, to speak without shrinking, you become magnetic in ways you’ve never had to force. Your lesson is to find balance between grace and truth. To remember that your intuition is just as sacred as anyone else’s opinion. And that saying “yes” to yourself is not a disruption, it’s an act of alignment. You weren’t born to walk tightropes just to keep others comfortable. You were born to teach the world how to meet in the middle without losing themselves in the process.

Sun in Scorpio ( October 23 - November 21 )

If your Sun is in Scorpio, your soul came here to feel everything, to burn, to break, and to rise again. You do not live on the surface. You were never meant to. The shallow, the artificial, the light-and-easy, none of that holds your attention. You crave what’s real. What’s raw. What’s buried beneath ten layers of silence. You’re not just intuitive, you’re piercing. You see things people haven’t said. You feel things they’ve forgotten how to name. You were born with a quiet kind of power. The kind that doesn’t need to be seen to be felt. You observe. You withhold. You sense the undercurrents in every room. But behind your mystery is a tenderness so deep, you’d rather hide it than risk it being mishandled. You love with intensity, but only once someone has proven they can meet you where it matters: in truth. Ruled by Mars and Pluto, you carry both fire and ashes. You are the death and the rebirth. You don’t just survive pain, you become new because of it. You’ve walked through betrayals, losses, and disappointments that would’ve broken someone else, but you alchemized them. You became the alchemy. When you commit, you go all in. Whether it’s love, a dream, or a belief, you don’t do halfway. Your devotion runs soul-deep. But your trust? It’s earned slowly, and when it’s broken, something inside you closes. Betrayal doesn’t just hurt you, it rewires you. And sometimes, instead of grieving, you guard. You disappear. You bury it under control, obsession, or silence. Your shadow emerges when you try to protect your heart by holding power instead of sharing it. When you love from fear instead of freedom. When the pain of your past whispers that closeness is a risk, and you believe it. You may shut others out before they even have the chance to get close, convincing yourself it’s safer that way. But isolation isn’t safety, it’s sorrow in disguise. You are not cold. You are not cruel. You are just unguarded tenderness wrapped in steel. And when you let someone in, truly in, you become one of the most loyal, profound, transformative forces they will ever know. Your lesson is not to stop feeling. It’s to feel without drowning. To trust again, even when it terrifies you. To learn that power isn’t control, it’s presence. And vulnerability doesn’t weaken your intensity, it deepens it. You weren’t born to skim the surface. You were born to hold the dark in one hand and the light in the other, and remind the world that both are sacred.

Sun in Sagittarius ( November 22 - December 21 )

If your Sun is in Sagittarius, you came here to chase what can’t be held. Not to escape, but to expand. To stretch beyond borders, of thought, of love, of self, and find what makes life feel infinite. You carry the wild spirit of the centaur: half rooted in the earth, half reaching for the stars. You were born with a compass in your soul, an arrow always pointing to something more. New lands. New truths. New versions of yourself you haven’t yet grown into. Ruled by Jupiter, you are the philosopher of fire. You seek truth not just in books or belief systems, but in conversations at midnight, in airports, in art, in the way people break and rebuild themselves. You’re not here to settle into one story, you’re here to live many. You see life as a grand, unfolding adventure. Even in pain, you look for purpose. Even in endings, you search for what it taught you. Your optimism is not naive, it’s resilient. You believe in better days because you’ve walked through darkness and still choose to believe in the light. You speak your truth with passion, sometimes without a filter, because honesty, for you, is love. You’d rather be bold than fake. But sometimes, in your rush to be truthful, you forget that softness doesn’t dilute the message, it deepens it. In relationships, you love with enthusiasm and freedom. You need room to roam, but also someone who keeps up with your mind. A fellow seeker. A co-adventurer. Someone who doesn’t ask you to shrink, but expands with you. And yet, when things start to feel still, you may mistake comfort for confinement. You may run, not because you don’t care, but because staying feels like a risk you don’t know how to navigate. But commitment doesn’t have to be a cage. It can be a launchpad. It doesn’t mean giving up who you are, it means allowing love to walk with you as you evolve. Your shadow emerges when movement becomes avoidance. When you chase the next experience hoping it will quiet the restlessness inside you. Your lesson is to realize that the truth you seek out there often begins in here. You don’t have to run to be free. You just have to trust that your fire won’t go out if you stand still long enough to let someone really see you. You were born to ignite wonder. To turn questions into constellations. To remind the world that joy is a kind of wisdom, and meaning is found not at the end of the road, but in the way you dare to travel it.

Sun in Capricorn ( December 22 - January 19 )

If your Sun is in Capricorn, you came here to build what lasts. To turn time into something sacred. To carve your purpose from stone because your soul needs something solid to stand on. You carry a quiet kind of strength, the kind that doesn’t need to be loud to be real. The kind that keeps showing up, even when no one’s watching. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.  Ruled by Saturn, the planet of structure, limits, and time, you were born with a sense of responsibility far beyond your years. While others drift, you plan. While others chase, you build. You move through life with intention. You don’t rush. You don’t cut corners. You know that success isn’t a stroke of luck, it’s the outcome of showing up over and over again, especially when the results are slow to come. You carry your goals like a sacred oath. You take your promises seriously, sometimes more seriously than your own rest, your own heart. To many, you are the one they lean on. The dependable one. The steady one. And while you carry that role with grace, it can sometimes leave you feeling like you have no space to fall apart. Like strength is your only option. But even mountains erode, and even you, brave soul, need space to be held. In love, you are deeply loyal, devoted in ways that aren’t always loud, but are always real. You show affection through protection. Through showing up. Through doing what needs to be done so the people you love feel safe. You may not wear your heart on your sleeve, but you build your relationships like you build everything else: with care, with time, with longevity in mind. Your shadow appears when responsibility turns into rigidity. When you forget to rest. When you believe that your worth is measured only by your output. You hold yourself to such high standards that sometimes, nothing feels like enough. And in chasing the next goal, the next achievement, you may miss the very moments your heart was quietly asking you to feel. You don’t need to do more to be more. You don’t need to carry everything to prove you’re strong. Your lesson is to remember that success also lives in softness. In stillness. In laughter that has no purpose but joy. In a single afternoon that asks nothing of you but your presence. You were born to build, yes. But not just structures. You’re here to build a life that nourishes your soul, not just your legacy. Let the sunset be your deadline sometimes. Let the moment win over the mission. And let someone else be the strong one, if only for a while.

Sun in Aquarius ( January 20 - February 18 )

If your Sun is in Aquarius, you came here to think what hasn’t been thought yet. To see the future and wonder why the world is still stuck in the past. To challenge every rule that no longer serves and quietly write your own. You are ruled by Uranus, the planet of rebellion and electricity. There’s a current running through you that others can’t always name, but they feel it the moment you enter a room. You don’t move like everyone else. You question, you reimagine, you redesign. You are not here to belong, you are here to awaken. Your mind is a constellation of brilliant ideas. You speak in visions, you live in questions, and you crave conversations that pull people out of small talk and into possibility. You are fascinated by what could be. What’s next. What hasn’t been done before. But behind that curiosity is a heart that doesn’t always know how to be held. You care deeply about humanity, about progress, about justice, but when it comes to your own emotions, you tend to step outside of them like an observer. You analyze what you feel instead of sinking into it. You keep your heart behind glass, not because you don’t want love, but because you’re not sure it knows what to do with someone like you. Your independence is sacred. You need space to breathe. To think. To remember who you are before merging with someone else. In love, you are loyal, surprising, and electric in ways that defy tradition. You don’t need a partner to complete you, you need one who understands that freedom is not the absence of love. It’s how you recognize it. But your shadow appears when distance becomes defense. When your detachment is really loneliness dressed as logic. You may offer your brilliance to the world while quietly wondering if anyone will ever understand the complexity beneath your calm. You don’t need to choose between thought and feeling. You are allowed to have both. To be wild and soft. To be brilliant and vulnerable. You are not too much. You are just ahead of your time. Let people in. Let them see past the spark into the circuitry. Let them hold the heart that built a universe of ideas. Because when you love, it’s a revolution. Not loud, but true. Not perfect, but pure. A quiet rebellion, where every touch says: I see you, even if the world never did.

Sun in Pisces ( February 19 - March 20 )

If your Sun is in Pisces, you came here to feel what the world has forgotten. To dream with your eyes open. To dissolve boundaries to remember that nothing is truly separate. You are ruled by Neptune, god of oceans and illusions. And like the sea, you hold depth that few can comprehend. You feel what isn’t said. You see beauty where others only see blur. You know the unspoken language of energy, how love lingers, how grief echoes, how silence can say everything. You are fluid. Ever-changing. You adapt not out of passivity, but out of understanding. You know how to become what the moment needs, how to mirror others so they feel safe, seen, held. But sometimes, you forget that your shape is sacred too, and it deserves to be honored, not just blended into what others desire. Your intuition is a compass no map can compete with. You feel your way through life, guided by a deeper knowing. And in your quietest moments, you carry messages that didn’t come from this world, but still ring true within it. That’s your gift. You are a bridge. Between what is and what could be. Between reality and the divine. In love, you give everything. You offer softness like shelter. You listen between the lines. You hold space not just for someone’s heart, but for their soul. But your love is so expansive that it can become boundary-less. You give until you vanish. You pour until you’re empty. And still, you wonder if it was enough. Your shadow appears when escape becomes easier than staying. When fantasy protects you from the harshness of truth. When you absorb the pain of others and call it your own. You retreat into dreams, into art, into numbness, hoping something there will feel safer than what’s right in front of you. But your softness is not weakness. And your sensitivity is not a flaw. It is the very thing that makes you holy. Your lesson is not to harden. It is to protect your sacredness without closing your heart. To learn that empathy without boundaries is a flood. And that your magic is not for everyone, you get to choose who receives it. You are the end and the beginning. The echo and the origin. You are water, yes, but not just any water. You are the tide that shapes the world in silence. The wave that knows exactly when to rise, and when to pull back. And in your patience, in your power, you show the world that healing doesn’t shout, it whispers.

📖👇😊

[rodger-eyeballis]

” HELLO EVERYONE, GUYS!! DO NOT PASS ㅤㅤㅤㅤ BY, THIS IS AN ADVERTISEMENT ㅤㅤㅤㅤ FOR A LITERARY CLUB!

I have the honor to introduce you: the first and most ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ important president of the circle associated with ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ librarianship and preserving the memory of various ㅤ ㅤ ㅤexcellent authors — Brightney the Lamp! And also, a ㅤ ㅤ beautiful girl with good taste and a very high mind. Yes, yes, this is a very important part! I like to sit at books late at night, learn from the works and write my own stories. I ㅤdon't like loafing, loud noises, and bad behavior in the library. Now, we are fully acquainted, so we can begin your ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ little enlightenment into my affairs!

Introduction: ㅤDon't worry, Rodger wasn't hacked and he didn't delete his account (otherwise I see that there haven't been any posts from him for a long time because of my intrusion).. It's just that this Sir befriendly lent me his blog on Tumblr so that your sweet Brigtney could talk about our shared comfortable library circle (why you should definitely visit it and what we will do) and about the participants you can meet in it! Yes, yes, even so! And since this part is, for the most part, my introduction and excerpt.. I would like to add that. YES, I ALSO CONSIDER RODGER TOON TO BE A NON-TRADITIONAL ORIENTATION, YOU GUYS ARE NOT ALONE. I can feel it from afar, it's not for nothing that I've read huge collections about relationships —… Oh, I'm sorry, we'll talk about this later, Rodger started looking at me menacingly (HOWEVER, if you do join the club, we can discuss the mental analysis of this Sir with examples from the literature in one of the sessions, if he doesn't come there.. Just keep it quiet, it's a secret)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤTHE MAIN PART :

ㅤYou won't regret joining our literary club! It's a place ㅤㅤwhere books come to life and discussions become real journeys into the world of literature. We read a variety of ㅤㅤ genres, from classics to modern prose, and each participant can offer their book for discussion. Every week we gather to share our thoughts and impressions, and it ㅤalways leads to interesting and deep conversations. In addition, we have meetings with our local ‘stars�� (I MEAN VEE, SHE AGREED TO VISIT US SOMETIMES), which will ㅤgreatly increase the excitement in the circle. We also organize creative events such as literary contests and workshops where you can develop your writing skills. Our club has a friendly atmosphere, and you are sure to find like-minded people and new friends. If you love literature and want to discover something new, come to us! We will be glad to see you and create a unique atmosphere of ㅤㅤㅤㅤ communication and inspiration together.

ㅤ Also, by becoming a member of the circle, you automatically get unlimited access to my library! That is, at any time and hour, even when I'm not there, you can relax on cool and soft ottomans or sip Teagan tea at the table (just be careful! Don't spill it on yourself or on the ㅤbooks). Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Participants also get access to unlimited tea and coffee, and all thanks to the ㅤㅤ misis Mug! So, don't forget to thank her for it :b

And a little new vision in the circle! Now each participant can receive their own personal logo with a bow, made and sewn from.. A DRUM ROLL.. from GLISTEN! Oh, he's such a good guy! It's only recently that we got the Mirror, even ㅤthough I've been inviting it to our club all the time.. I'm talking too much. IN SHORT! By joining the circle, you can approach this boy and officially order our beautiful logo. ㅤㅤHowever, keep in mind that the ribbon will always be GREEN, so choose the colors and the thing that will be on the emblem more carefully. For example, I have a Feather ㅤㅤㅤㅤ sewn here! — Yeah, it's very beautiful.

Summary results for the lazy (Although, ㅤㅤwhat's the point of joining a LITERARY circle if you're ㅤㅤㅤㅤ even too lazy to read a short text??):

(By joining the club, you will receive..)

A reading experience and a good atmosphere!!!

Unlimited access to the Library (and yes, I forgot to tell you. It's on the ground floor of the third elevator!)

Meeting with the star of the quiz program — Vee

Masterclasses and contests

Excellent tea and coffee from Teagan (who will always be sitting in the library for you.. She really liked it there)

Special official logos to order from Glisten

And I'd like to add on my own: A handsome, muscularly attractive detective who comes to our club once every few weeks. Although, no. I'm not letting you look at sexy guys instead of reading 😤—

Well, that's it, guys! I hope you are at least interested in ㅤㅤsomething and you have a desire to join the club.. Although, this is more specific to toons, which makes me extremely upset. But don't worry, if I ever have my own ㅤㅤㅤblog, we can set up an online literary club, but in the meantime, you can get some information from Rodger about books! He's certainly not me, but the detective's ㅤㅤㅤ reading experience is more than good^^

ㅤㅤㅤ————————————————

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Members: (This section was created to show my favorites and their wishes for you! And maybe your personal opinion about ㅤㅤㅤㅤ the club.. For this reason, read to the end)

Razzle and Dazzle, comedy and drama specials at the same time! Deputy head of the club, keeps order in the ㅤㅤㅤㅤ library (puts books in their place, etc)🌙☀️

— Yes, that's us!!! Hello country, hello world, we are ready to work for the benefit of the club and you wonderful persons!!

— (Oh, you're at it again.. Be more calm, brother, you can't make noise in the library.. Don't set a bad example for them. Be quiet and calm, literary works require diligent thoughtfulness and understanding to understand the deep essence of it to the end.. This does not apply to comedi—)

— Hey! You're belittling me in public again!

Astro, the second headman, runs the library exclusively at night (if you take a late meal or have a nightmare, then go to him for sure!). He is also an expert in everything, but his ㅤㅤ favorite genre is science fiction about space ✉️

( I'm sorry, I didn't have time to interview him because he... he.. Um, too busy! Yes! This one's definitely not because he's missing or something.. )

Our beautiful Teagan! She has recently joined our team, but she is always ready to offer you interesting fashion ㅤㅤㅤㅤ magazines, as well as sad romantic novels 🍃

— Oh, my dear little darlings, I must confess that I have yet to fully immerse myself in the enchanting realm of literature, much like the illustrious Brigtney. However, I would be absolutely delighted to share a delightful cup of spiced tea with you, accompanied by a captivating book. Please, do not hesitate to approach me; I have a splendid tea set that is perfect for such serene and cozy moments. One can only hope that the mischievous dog-girl refrains from nibbling on it once more... Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Rodger?

This is my favorite duo! Rodger and Toodles (who also ㅤ ㅤㅤjoined here not long ago) are ardent fans of ㅤㅤDetective Stories, especially if they contain a bit of psychological horror.. Are you sure children can read this?.. Although, I know for sure that when this little girl learns to analyze the text under my guidance, she will not ㅤㅤㅤㅤ only read such works, heh^^⭐️💫

— Wait a minute, when did Toodles manage to devour the tea set.. ahem. Yes, when I have a little free time, I spend most of my time reading a book. However, at this point in time, I'm not only reading a detective story, so it would be extremely helpful if you would recommend some work. Only normal.. I've had enough of Brigtney as it is (I'll read romance with Glisten, he just seems to like this genre.. Although, after the death of Romeo and Juliet, he has not yet recovered..)

— VEEE! VEE iS comINg! SHE's cOMing, SHESs COOMing! I reALLy waNT to see hEr, I'm heR faN. I hOPe she liKESs dETECctive boOKks toO.

ps: I did not choose the logo for the bow, but this star on the bow is extremely good.. I think Mirror did a good job. My daughter liked it too, that's the most important thing.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Glisten stars (???):

Yeah, I made a separate paragraph for Glisten because ㅤㅤhe... he.. The coolest, most beautiful, awesome and attractive toon in the whole center! It's impossible not to ㅤㅤgive Mirror a special place of honor when he not only visited me, but also bothered to help me upgrade the ㅤㅤㅤㅤ club.. God, do I have to write all this? 🎀

— Oh, yes, it's me! Come on, stop applauding! I know that you all love me, but there should be silence on the stage. That's it, thanks. Your wonderful Glisten has finally decided to join the club, after several pleading requests from Brightney. However, I'm not going to go to the library often beca— WAIT A MINUTE! Will Teagan be there? Wait, where is she from.. together with Rodg? In the same room? She's a two-faced fuc—... Mmm, anyway, this Lamp inspired me to improve and I will gladly go to the literary club every day. So wait for me there, my beloved fans😘

ㅤㅤㅤ————————————————

Phew, it was hard, but we got through it.. More precisely, I ㅤdid it! Thank you for reading, and I hope you didn't get bored my presentation. Maybe we'll see each other on the blog someday, if I need anything else from Mr. Rodger, but ㅤㅤㅤㅤ for now, see you again^^ ”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Novel Dialogue

Speech in a novel is different from real life

Novel dialogue - is not like reality, where much of what we say is of little consequence to the bigger picture of our lives.

Check that all your dialogue needs to be there, then remove the mundane.

Artful dialogue - requires balancing realism with engagement.

Ensure that every word spoken by a character pushes the novel forward rather than making the reader feel like they’re eavesdropping on a mundane conversation at the bus stop.

Every line of dialogue should have a purpose. If it doesn’t, it shouldn’t be there.

A 3-Pronged Approach to Dialogue

One way of assessing whether dialogue is working is to think in terms of:

voice,

mood and

intention.

When we focus on these three things, we avoid dull dialogue – conversations about the weather, how someone takes their tea or coffee, and courtesy statements such as ‘Hi, how are you?’

VOICE

Tells us who characters are, what makes them tick – their fears, frustrations, hopes and dreams, identity, preferences.

Perhaps their speech is abrupt, rude, measured, polite, sweary or seductive.

When we change the way a character speaks, we change their voice. And that means we change them.

MOOD

Characters can show us how they’re feeling via their dialogue.

Emotionally evocative speech allows readers to access the internal experience of a non-viewpoint character. And that makes it a powerful tool.

Perhaps their speech is abrupt, assertive, hesitant, forceful, pleading. Using the right words means the speech tags and narrative won’t need to be cluttered with further explanation.

INTENTION

Another way of framing subtext.

How characters speak tells us what they want.

Perhaps they’re asking questions for the purpose of discovery & understanding whodunit (doctors, lawyers, private investigators, and police officers regularly use dialogue in novels to this end). Dialogue can express a multitude of motivations.

Ask yourself what your character wants every time they open their mouth.

To declutter dialogue and make every word count, ask yourself the following:

Is every line relevant to the story?

Is the character speaking with purpose or taking up ink/pixels on the page?

Can mundane chitchat be removed without damaging sense and flow?

Could the dull stuff be replaced with speech that deepens character?

Example

A real, but mundane dialogue:

Laurie comes back to the office with me for a meeting with Kevin. These meetings are basically of dubious value, since all we seem to do is list the things we don’t understand in our preparation for a trial we don’t know will even take place. “Hi, Kevin,” I say. “Hey, Andy. How you doin’?” “Not too bad, thanks. Christ, it’s cold out though. I need something to warm me up. Gonna grab a coffee. Want one? Laurie, you?” Kevin nods. Laurie says, “Please. Milk and sugar.” “So Kevin,” I say as I hand around the drinks, “we need to talk about Petrone.” It’s the first chance I’ve had to tell Kevin about my meeting with the guy. I fill him in. When I get to the part where Petrone denied trying to have me killed, Kevin asks, “And you believed him?” “I did.” “Just because that’s what he said?” I nod. “As stupid as it might sound, yes. I’ve had dealings with him before, and he’s always told me the truth, or nothing at all. And he had nothing to gain by lying.” “Andy, the guy has had a lot of people murdered. How many confessions has he made?”

Turning it into Novel Dialogue...

This is how author David Rosenfelt actually wrote this excerpt from Play Dead (Grand Central, 2009, p. 175):

Laurie comes back to the office with me for a meeting with Kevin. These meetings are basically of dubious value, since all we seem to do is list the things we don’t understand in our preparation for a trial we don’t know will even take place. It’s the first chance I’ve had to tell Kevin about my meeting with Petrone. I fill him in. When I get to the part where Petrone denied trying to have me killed, Kevin asks, “And you believed him?” “I did.” “Just because that’s what he said?” I nod. “As stupid as it might sound, yes. I’ve had dealings with him before, and he’s always told me the truth, or nothing at all. And he had nothing to gain by lying.” “Andy, the guy has had a lot of people murdered. How many confessions has he made?”

Rosenfelt knows that none of his readers care about the weather, the tea, or whether people say hello to each other or not. And so he leaves all of that out and lets the reader imagine that this stuff took place. And it’s enough.

In the published novel, the first line of speech is “And you believed him.” With that, we’re straight into Kevin’s incredulity and concern, and his desire to understand what the team is dealing with in regard to Petrone.

Meanwhile, Andy has his lawyer hat on. His initial reply is succinct, so that we are left in no doubt about his belief that Petrone was telling the truth, and that he is determined to reassure Kevin.

This is no-messing dialogue that focuses on story, not whether the speech is what we might actually hear – in its entirety – in real life. It’s an excellent example of an author ensuring that every word counts and that there’s no bus-stop-talk filler.

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