#every intrusive thought is for this blog and I’m not about to change that just cause there’s some gif content now lol

[sweetmodel]

How I became a master shifter (+ why methods aren't working for you)

Hello! I’ve been seeing a lot of disinformation lately, and I’ve noticed that some people might need help, so I wanted to chime in. I can shift whenever I want, and I see a LOT of limiting beliefs—but I understand because I was once on the other side.

Disclaimer: This is all based on my personal experience with how I became a master shifter. You’ll want to read everything—it’s important.

I first shifted around March 2022. I would always use methods. I would affirm, tell myself I was detached from this reality, and so on. During my very first shift, I literally affirmed all night long (if this sounds familiar, it’s because I used to have another blog here, lol). You know, really complicated stuff. Then... things changed. I couldn’t shift anymore. I kept using the same methods, but they didn’t work!

That’s when I started questioning everything about shifting and consciousness. Why was it that I could be in another reality where things like magic exist, but then suddenly I couldn’t shift anymore? Why were the methods, like lucid dreaming or the void, seemingly more powerful than the act of switching realities itself? Why, when I shifted from my Desired Reality to my Current Reality, all I needed to do think of my CR to shift back—but it didn’t work the other way around?

None of it made sense! And I’m sure many others have asked themselves these same questions.

I came up with two theories:

This reality has something unique compared to the infinite other realities. To shift from here, you need something extra, like a method.

There’s something else at play, something unrelated to the realities themselves.

I dismissed the first option. There’s nothing inherently special about this reality. So why do we use methods here but not in our DRs?

Then, I thought back to how I used to shift... detaching from my body, affirming until I shifted. It all aligned with my subconscious beliefs. The method didn’t work because that’s how shifting works, but because it made sense to my subconscious. Of course I would shift if I did these things—because that’s what I believed shifting required.

Well... kind of. As I said, it made sense because it aligned with my beliefs. So when the method failed, I wasn’t letting myself shift.

Did you catch that? I didn’t let myself shift. Of course, it wasn’t the method. At what point do you actually shift? Is it when you affirm? Do you really think the universe is just waiting for you to say the right thing enough times before it switches you to your DR?

No. It’s you.

So, you have two choices:

Find a method that truly aligns with your beliefs, or

Change your subconscious beliefs.

Changing your beliefs might seem hard, but I’m going to explain why it’s not as difficult as it feels.

All your life, you’ve had certain beliefs, but those beliefs came from somewhere. You weren’t born thinking you need methods to shift—it’s something that developed over time. Which means it’s not set in stone. It can be changed.

I realized that every reality holds the same weight. There’s NOTHING you can do in this one—no intrusive thoughts or negative emotions—that can stop you. Why? Because those thoughts and emotions are products of this reality. Shifting is simply changing what you’re aware of. That’s literally it. Anything outside of that can’t stop you.

Yes, we’ve all seen those posts saying things like, "Oh, you’re not focused enough" or "You spend too much time on X, Y, Z" or even "You don’t go outside enough" (I legit read this on here—y'all are wildin’). Are you in your DR thinking "Oh, I thought about failing to shift, it means I won't :("? Of course you aren't! But nothing can stop you from shifting. Nothing can stop you from being aware that you are a master shifter.

So, how do you become aware of that?

I started affirming throughout the day. I would tell myself these things:

I’m pure consciousness. I create my reality, and everything around me is just what I choose to perceive.

I’m a master shifter. I don’t need methods. All I need to do is choose to shift, think of my DR, and it happens.

Nothing in the 3D can stop me from shifting, because I’m in the 4D and pure consciousness.

I told myself these things constantly, and I truly understood what I was affirming. What being pure consciousness and being a master shifter actually meant. I stopped using methods. I stopped acting like this reality was special compared to the ones I wanted to be in. And then... it happened.

I shifted. During the day. I simply thought of my DR, told myself, I want to shift, and there I was—in my DR. It happened because, as I said, my subconscious beliefs changed and then manifested in my reality. The same way they did when I believed I needed methods.

Naturally, I stopped using methods. I stopped trying to shift. I no longer thought, Okay, tonight I’m going to shift, and I'm going to use X method. Because that’s not how you think or act when you’re a master shifter. I let go—why would I bother using a method before sleeping when I could just stand up, think about my DR, and be there? Why would I bother doing a method before falling asleep when I knew I'm a master shifter?

I allowed myself to shift. It was me! When people ask, What method did you use? What did you do to shift?—do you really, truly believe it’s the method that makes you shift? Of course you do, because you live in a reality that seems logical, and you apply that logic to shifting. But shifting isn’t logical! It just happens! I have no idea why—it’s literally just magic to me—but that’s how it works.

So, you need to understand: You make it happen. That’s a good thing, right? It means you don’t need methods, and you don’t need to keep searching for “the key.”

Anyway, I hope this helps someone. (Also yes, before you tell me, I know this is basically Law Of Assumption. But I wanted to explain it in more of shifting terms)

(Also if someone wants to post this to another social you have my permission- especially reddit since I was active in that community but I deleted my acc lol)

Edit: Hey guys there are some additional notes in the comments that might be useful!

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ toji fushiguro x his favorite customer (revision)

✧ summary toji has a little soft spot for his favorite customer that he can't get enough of.

✧ content warnings reader is a black woman who uses she/her pronouns. chubby!reader and inexperienced!reader. rich girl in her midtwenties, very needy! usage of profanity, standing missionary, oral - m!receiving, doggy style, mixture of praise and degradation kink, breeding kink, unprotected, creampie and squirting, terms of endearment ─ pretty girl, princess, baby, baby girl, etc. softdom!toji with rough, passionate, and filthy intercourse. told in first POV ─ toji's. i got reader calling toji TJ, and i think that’s so cute pls.

✧ author's note happy birthday to my baby daddy toji fushiguro! we've been going strong now for years. just a little something something to celebrate him. this fic has been in the drafts since December. talk about black people time, old sksk. also, if you already seen the original of this fic on tumblr, it's mine lol. this is just a revision, so don't go around saying i copied someone! my writing has changed so i wanted to redo this and add some adjustments. i hope y'all enjoy. support me by reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts. ♡ AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS AND/OR MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT.

 

 When it comes to women I fuck, I treat them the same because at the end of the day, they pay me good money to stuff their pussy with cock. 

 Don’t really care if they're married either. I usually get the old, desperate broads that aren’t getting any attention from their husbands at home, so it’s my job to make them feel good for the night. 

 I don’t do favorites. 

 I damn sure don’t give discounts. 

 And I definitely don’t get attached. But the moment I met Y/N that all changed. 

 My favorite customer. 

 Never did I expect a younger woman to pay me to get fucked, especially when she looks that good. 

 I’m almost positive she has a line filled with fuckers that’s desperately wanting to know what this tight, wet pussy feels like, yet here I am, living their fantasy. 

 I fucked Y/N once. 

 Then, twice. 

 Then, again.

 And again.

 And again…

 If I didn’t know any better, I’m fucking obsessed with her. Can’t even say it’s just for the money she’s paying me. Probably the best pussy I ever had.

 No. 

 It is. 

 So fucking warm, and she takes dick well, too. I usually give only an hour or two to my customers, but for Y/N? I reserved the whole night to relish her pussy. 

 The perfect fuck to end my day. 

 Those soft, sweet-sounding moans that slipped through her full brown and pink lips, having my previous cum shot staining them had me running wild. 

 But it seems like I’m not the only one who’s sex drunk. 

 Cock is all on Y/N’s mind right now. Whimpering and crying how big I am and thanking me for giving her dick. Tears pricks those chestnut-colored hues and I’m in fucking awe. She’s so damn pretty. 

 “You know how gorgeous you look taking cock like this? Being a good fucking slut for me, princess?” I ask, being met with a nod and her moaning in response. 

 Y/N’s pussy talks to me. Wet noises spreading throughout the room while I have my arms hooked under the fold of her knees, fucking her recklessly to push past any intrusion. 

 She’s jumping with me every thrust I make, causing her tits to bounce obnoxiously. I take one of her nipples into my mouth and suck on them like it’s my last dying breath, hearing that sweet whimper. 

 I belong in Y/N’s pussy, and she belongs to me, too, the way she’s gripping my cock and milking me. All of her cream and wetness drips between us and down my balls, and it feels fucking amazing. Every time I experience her velvet walls, I find myself becoming more animalistic, hungry and territorial over someone who should only be seen as a client. 

 But fuck, something in me says I would go batshit crazy if I ever found out she had other motherfuckers experiencing this. 

 Knowing how she looks when sweat coats her beautiful brown skin. How it feels to stretch her out and make her adjust to you. Just thinking about it makes me pound into her deeper and more aggressively. 

 “Toji, baby, yes. This feels so good,” she purrs. “Like that. Keep fucking me like that.”

 I hum. “Yeah? This is what you wanted, right? Paid me to please this good pussy?”

 By all means, Y/N isn’t a virgin, but she told me she doesn’t have much experience and I can tell by how tight she is. 

 Our sounds of pleasure resonate in the air, and I call her my good girl, praising how perfect her pussy is, to be met with her squeezing me and watery brown eyes. 

 “Toji… Toji… Yes. God, yes.”

 “Keep using your words, pretty girl. Tell me how much you love my dick in your pussy,” I ordered softly.

 “I love it so much. It’s so big, baby,” she tells me, slurring her words because of her lips still being on mine. “You’re going to make me cum.”

 I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. “Not yet. Come taste yourself.”

 Without hesitation, Y/N slides down to her knees and starts sucking my dick. I hiss at her swallowing me and the warmth of her mouth. She doesn’t take her time when sucking me off, immediately circling her head and throating me. 

 “Hot fucking mouth made to suck dick, huh, pretty girl?” I firmly grabbed her chin so she could look at me. “Eyes up, sweetheart. Open up your throat for me like a good girl.” 

 Y/N hollows her cheeks and bobs her head fervently on my dick, tightening her lips around me. 

 She sucks dick so fucking good, better than any other woman I’ve been with. And I just know I’m bound to bust quickly if she keeps doing this shit. 

 My hand finds the back of Y/N’s head to grip and I buck my hips deeper into her mouth, ensuring I hit the back of her throat everytime. I’m a fucking mad man when I begin fucking the gorgeous face, especially when she’s looking up at me with those big brown eyes. 

 A spoiled brat, prim and shy, who’s spending daddy’s money to get fucked and folded by an old bastard like me. Think I fucking developed a kink for this type because of Y/N.

 I pumped into her mouth more aggressively until she began choking and gagging on my cock. Drool and precum coating her mouth in the process. 

 Any type of control Y/N tries to take, I push past it because I want to use that pretty little mouth of hers how I want. She needs to get her money’s worth when fucking with me. 

 “Going to fuck my cum deep down that throat of yours, and you’re going to swallow it. Got that?” She nods and I softly tap the side of her face. “That’s it. Keep those lips tight around me.” 

 “Toji, pl—please,” she slurs, causing me to chuckle. 

 “Hm, look at you. Trying so hard to talk to me while sucking my dick. It’s cute.” I slow down my quick thrusts, but replace them with more fervent ones, pushing me and her head down until my cock outlines her throat. 

 My balls grow heavy and obnoxiously slaps Y/N’s chin, a clear indication I’m about to fucking cum. 

 Grunting, whining, gasping like a little bitch for air because head like this has a fucker like me sounding like a broken mess. 

 Blood rushes to my groin and I start getting sloppy, feeling my muscles tightening and ache burning between my thighs. I’m close, so fucking close to filling her mouth with my release, then I can finish fucking that fat pussy. 

 Everything about this damn woman is perfect. Her pussy. How she sucks cock. That fucking chubby and curvy body of hers. A pretty face with loaded cash.

 Yeah, she’s definitely mine after tonight. And I’m talking about anything lovey dovey. Meaning if I catch her being a slut like this to anyone else, I’d kill that fucker. 

 No hesitation. I-

 “Y/N, fuck!” I grunt while cumming in her mouth. This load is fucking heavy, but she’s trying her best to swallow every drop. 

 I groan at the sight of Y/N touching her tits and palming her pussy, knowing how much she’s turned on, too. It’s like the vibrations of her moans pulls more cum out my fucking dick.

 A mess I made on her face, but the joyful lust I see in her eyes tells me she doesn’t give a damn. 

 Good, because I’m not finished with her. 

 “All fours on the bed. Now,” I demanded. “Still gotta fill up your pussy.”

 Perfection is what I think when I see Y/N from behind, arched back, ass in the air and pussy dripping, ready for me to fuck. 

 I force an arch in her back and plunge my cock in her tight little pussy with one deep stroke. Y/N gasps in the air and I take the opportunity to pull her up by the throat and start pounding her cunt. 

 Why the fuck is she so goddamn wet? She takes cock well, bud shit, I abruptly slip out each and every thrust. 

 “Keep me inside that pussy, baby girl. Stop fucking letting go,” I gritted in her ear. She reaches behind her to hold my dick and push back into me with a tighter grip. “Hm, just like that. So fucking good to me, aren’t you?”

 “I need more dick, TJ. Fuck me harder, baby. I can take you,” she moans. 

 Begging for cock she’s already paying for… Shit, I get a kick out of how pathetically sexy she sounds. 

 I repeatedly slammed into her wet cunt, thrust after thrust, pussy creaming even further than before. If it’s one thing I can listen to for the rest of my life, it’s how Y/N sounds when she’s being fucked. 

 My name drips perfectly from her lips.

 Our skin smacking fills the air in the room along my hand striking her ass until I guarantee it’ll bruise in the morning. 

 “Look at this fat ass moving when I pound into this pussy. Fucking beautiful,” I growled.

 “Toji, please. I… I don’t care how much… I’ll pay more. Just keep fucking me like this.”

 I chuckle. “Atta girl.”

 I see why motherfuckers catch feelings when fucking pussy. I almost feel tempted to tell Y/N that I love her while fucking her. She has pussy that’ll make a fucker crazy… Possessive… Jealous.

 I applied more pressure to Y/N’s throat and pulled her against my chest. “You know who this pussy belongs to. Right, princess?”

 “God, yes, Toji. You… it belongs to you.” Her voice comes off as a faint cry and I know she’s on the verge of cumming. Especially with how her pussy is pulsating around me. 

 “Mhm, that’s right. Dreamed of my fucking dick pounding this tight little cunt, now I have you mindfucked. Huh?” I pinch her nipples with my free hand and increase my thrusts. “You’re about to come for me. Aren’t you, Y/N? I know you are. I can feel it. You should see the mess your slutty pussy is making between us.”

 “Fuck, I didn’t mean to, baby. It’s just… you feel good. So fucking good,” she whimpers, bouncing her ass back into me to meet with my thrusts. 

 “Maybe I should have you clean it with your mouth. Hm?”

 I release Y/N’s throat to shove her face into the bed and deepen her arch more than before. My single hand returns to her hips to grip, pulling her round ass back on my cock to kiss her center. 

 Can’t get over how wet—how tight and warm this fucking pussy is. The harder I fuck her, the louder her pussy gets and I grunt, curse underneath my breath at hearing the sound of her muffled moans. 

 I don’t give a fuck if one of us catches feelings after this. Actually, I want her to. I want Y/N to be dick hungry only for me. 

 I want her pussy to smell like I’m the only fucker that’s been running through her. I’m even fucking tempted to breed this pussy just so she’s mine.

 Why the fuck would I want to have sex with any other women after knowing what Y/N feels like? 

 “You take cock like a fucking pro. Look at you gripping me. Look at how this pussy is mine.”

 She spreads her ass cheeks to feel every inch of my dick. “Fuck me, Toji. Harder. Fuck me harder, I’m about to cum.”

 “Shit, me too, sweetheart. Such a perfect fuck toy. Going to fill you all the way up,” I rasped. “Fuck me back. Keep taking this dick.”

 My thrusts are sloppy. I throw my head back and swear into the air and moan her name. My balls grow heavier and heavier until I fucking but and empty my cum inside her pussy. 

 And she’s right there with me, crying my name and thanking me for giving her toe-curling orgasm. 

 Fucking enjoy hearing my pretty girl thank me for giving her cock. She just looks so damn pretty when she cums, too. 

 Dark brown skin sweating. The sight of her ruined makeup with mascara running down her cheeks. Moans sounding like a broken record. 

 Yeah, she’s a perfect fuck. 

 My favorite customer. 

© 2024 tojiscumdumpster Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost (sharing links is okay) anywhere. I only upload on tumblr and you will find some of my work in ao3.

[shiftersroom]

hi thala! 💞 so sorry if you don’t accept this kind of asks but i just feel like i need to vent and your vlog is always reassuring and comforting.

currently i’m in this situation where i just want to get out of this cr and permashift to my dr asap, but it seems like i can’t stop self sabotaging myself and i’m so so tired of it. last night i was crying my heart out because of how bad i felt about it. i’ve been practicing meditation so i can enter the void and even though it seems like i learned to keep my mind awake and body sleep i haven’t been able to get past that and it’s so frustrating. i know there’s tons of methods and also everyone says i don’t even need one but i idk why i have this idea that i need some method to detach from my cr really printed on my mind. for the self sabotaging part, i can’t help but have trust issues regarding myself and the community, sometimes it’s my intrusive thoughts making me doubt about shifting being real/posible and other’s successful experiences (saying it must have been a lucid dream or they are just making it up and i really HATE and feel guilty to discredit their experiences in that way 😭) and other times my belief in shifting is unwavering but i don’t feel capable of it. i'm not even the kind of person who has ever had any “closer attempts” or mini shifts and has been really hard for me to find what works best for me, meditation is by far what i’ve been trying the most but i’m just so impatient that sometimes i can’t help but feel that i’m going nowhere. my mind is really so stubborn when it comes to trying to change negative thoughts.

sorry for all of this, i don’t have shifting friends or someone i can share this stuff with. i don’t usually tend to feel this way but last night i just kinda collapsed, it crossed my mind that maybe i'm wasting my time and that i should just give up but i don’t want to, if this shii is real i need to experience it no matter what. i want to be with the ones i love and live the life i want. i don’t want to stay here any longer. i want to try loa along with shifting but then again, my intrusive thoughts say that i’ll be just gaslighting myself and all that.

i know no one else can fix these problems for me, but i’m so scared of failure or just being delusional for believing in all of this. sorry again for the long vent, i needed to get this off my chest. love you and your blog so much thala. if you don’t really want to accept this because honestly is like a long ass and probably demotivating ramble it’s totally okay, but thank you for taking the time if you do. hope you keep being happy and having success with everything you do. 😭🫶🏻

hello 💕 please feel free to vent, i don’t mind.

i completely understand your level of frustration, i badly want to permashift too and i have little breakdowns every few months once it catches up to me that nothing has fully worked yet.

the void can take a long time to perfect. i mean monks spend decades learning to meditate! why don’t you try something other than meditation? if you’ve given it a good go and it hasn’t worked, it’s probably not the method for you. i recommend a short break before trying a new method. rn i’m writing an affirmation 100 times a day. but honestly if that doesn’t work i’m straight up gonna lay there and visualize for 8 hours every night. i’m getting out of here no matter what.

try asking yourself what you think will work for you - sometimes we know the answer but we need to sit down and think about it. for example i keep doing affirmations, or short visualizations. but i feel what will make me shift is just laying there and telling myself to stfu and visualize until i’m there, even if it takes hours.

as for the self sabotage, i cope with that by watching my favorite creators and realizing that no one in their right mind would upload years of unpaid content that most people would ridicule us for, all for it to be a lie or joke. especially older shifters. and the other thing i like to do is remind myself that if i shifted and came back, no matter how ridiculous the experience was it’d still be real - so even if you don’t believe someone bc it sounds outlandish, it can still be real.

i’m also scared of being delusional but i simply cannot and will not remain here. there is no other option for me, so i’ll persist forever. the first time i shifted i had no idea id shift. that keeps me motivated, i could feel awful and still wake up in my dr tomorrow.

forever posting this reddit post by someone who shifted after 5 years, this was my fave comment of theirs:

and that motivates me even more - even if it’s fake i’m gonna make it real.

i also struggle with trying to change negative thoughts and my mindset, i’m in my mid 20s this stuff is harder to believe in at this age, and my mind has been tainted by years of bad experiences. but as hard as it is i’m forcing myself to get over it and try everything, bc i just need to shift once and all my bad experiences will be over.

i’m sorry if i gave you a big rant in return haha, but i hope this helps!! 💕 i’m so happy you like my blog and thanks for your sweet words 🥹

[ecargmura]

Buddy Daddies Episode 7 Review: Solemn Happiness

Come check out my review on my blog here, but if you don't want to, proceed below.

The anime’s vibe takes a shift as today’s episode ventures into a more solemn episode that focuses on Kazuki’s past as he remembers what happened to his wife and why he behaves the way he does.

We finally learn who Kazuki was sending money to: his sister-in-law Karin. She is Yuzuko’s younger sister; Yuzuko was Kazuki’s late wife who died five years prior to the story.

Yuzuko died during one of his missions; I assume his wife had no idea he was an assassin and she just happened to be there coincidentally and the truck explosion happened. While we, the viewers, saw that Ryo Ogino was the cause of the explosion, Kazuki has been guilt-ridden ever since. Despite being all happy and energetic in previous episodes, Kazuki has a lot of baggage inside of him that he lets out in this episode. He’s afraid of moving on because it means there will be a day he will no longer remember Yuzuko. I think that’s a bittersweet thing to think about. Imagine loving someone so much, but they died. What would you do? Be a prisoner of your own memories or move on? I’m sure that in place of Yuzuko, Rei and Miri will be the ones that can give him that happiness he longed for.

I thought Karin would be an intrusive, hostile character with the purpose of being a hindrance, but my expectations flipped upside down. Karin is nothing like that at all. She’s wonderful. She serves as a way for Kazuki to finally move on from his guilt. She wants Kazuki to be happy. She’s not someone who holds a grudge from losing her only family. I hope we see more of her soon. She seems like a lovely person.

There are a lot of hydrangeas in this episode. In flower language, blue hydrangeas means forgiveness while purple means deeper understanding. As someone who likes using flower language in my own original writing, I really like the symbolism these flowers were used in this episode. Kazuki and Karin have a conversation that help them understand each other deeper and eventually Kazuki is able to forgive himself.

A side plot for this episode is Rei stepping up to become a better parent for Miri. We’ve always seen Rei laze around and play games all day. He plays with Miri, but never really does the chores like taking packing her bags, feeding her, etc. As Kazuki leaves the house for the day, Rei learns what it means to be responsible.

Without Kazuki, Rei is pretty much a mess. He has no idea what the stuff in his own refrigerator are, thinks fried potatoes are an acceptable form of vegetable consumption, and has no idea where the hospital is. By being in Kazuki’s shoes for the day, he understands what Kazuki has to do every day in their house and how much responsibility it is to take care of something. I think it’s when Miri gets sick that he finally understands that he has to step up just in case Kazuki is not home. I find this good character development for Rei.

I’m glad that Kazuki is being more appreciated even if Rei and Miri suck at making French toast. It makes me wonder what’s next for our family. This episode feels like it’s signaling a change for what’s to come. Will they finally get some assassination work? Will something bad happen to them? All I want is for all three to be happy with each other.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi. I’d like to see if you could help me type myself. I read alot of your blog too. So these days I felt a bit stuck in a rut (probably looping of some sort). Yesterday I was very down, it felt like I can’t see immediate results, that nothing is changing or is changing very slowly and I’m losing patience.

Everything is empty and void. There is nothing I wanted to do except stare at the void. No energy. Can’t focus. I keep having random out of control monologues that I can’t control and it’s very very dark and exhausting. For example I try to read a page of a book and suddenly feel empty and restless and want suddenly to do something else. When I can’t see my goals, it’s like I can’t escape this limbo that’s between who I am and I what I want to be. Today for a change of pace I decided to go outside the house, study at the library, look at people that exist and I feel better.

I asked some people online to type me, some typed me as INTP others as ISFP. However I don’t really relate at all with Ti dominant, nor do I relate to Ne-Si or high Se. I considered that staying at home and having low energy could be either a sign of Ti-Si or inferior Se, which brings me to my next point (INJ).

Over the constant research during these months I formed this idea that I may be a Ni dom (INJ), especially because I regularly got it on every test. However I never accepted it and moved on because nothing seems to fit me. I don’t think I have aux Fe, or if I do maybe it’s unused, probably because I don’t have a social life anymore, and I don’t know how to again nor do I care. I don’t think I have high Te because I struggle to maintain a routine and be consistent at achieving goals, even though it’s everything I’m stressing about right now because I constantly feel like a failure and underachieving and keep beating myself about it. Right now it feels like my head is a mess and very chaotic and every sound, person, noise is overstimulating me and overstressing me.

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

1) Type assessment is time consuming and I don't do it for just anyone who shoots me a message. All type assessment requests must carefully follow the instructions on my contact page. If you're asking me to spend my time to get to know you well enough to type you, then put in your fair share of the work to explain yourself properly to me. It is your responsibility to ensure that you provide exactly the information I ask for, otherwise I can't carry out a thorough analysis. If you are unable to follow my instructions for whatever reason, perhaps you should pay a professional to sit down with you and figure it out.

2) Failure to set and reach goals is often an indication of missing important knowledge, skills, or methods. Identify what should be studied and learned to move you forward. "Random out of control monologues" are a sign of rumination and/or intrusive thoughts, both of which point to an emotional problem that you have yet to accurately identify. Perhaps it is a problem you have avoided, repressed, or denied for too long, so you now exhibit significant symptoms of poor mental health. Mental health problems often interfere with the type assessment process, therefore, I always suggest people get them checked out and attended to before proceeding, preferably with a professional.

[vulturewizard]

Every so often I go on the internet to look up anxiety, depression, and the like & almost every time I come across symptoms that match up with OCD or general anxiety.

EDIT: looking back at my side blog posts, this contributes to that theory

EDIT: no one looks at this blog anyway ; here are my perceived symptoms I’ve noticed over time and have had varying degrees of intensity over the years:

-Fear of coming into contact with perceived contaminated substances, such as germs or dirt (this was worst when I was a teenager; likely developed my eczema on my hands cause of it)

- Unwanted thoughts or mental images related to sex, was worst when I was a teenager

- Fear of making a mistake, was worst when I was a teenager, still happens occasionally

- Feelings of doubt; persisted throughout adolescence and contributed to loss of religion in early adulthood

- Need for constant reassurance; need to know if I’m doing things right but if it’s positive compliments about myself, I don’t believe/take it to heart sometimes

- Bathing, cleaning or washing your hands over and over; since being told kindly by 3 coworkers last year that I smell, I have kicked this into higher gear but also cause of an bill incident last winter I am anxious on using too much water and so end up taking sponge baths on a regular basis

- Rituals related to numbers, such as counting, doing a task a specific amount of times, or excessively preferring or avoiding certain numbers; not fully in tune with the number part but since getting wind-chimes, I ring them when I leave the house and when I get back because it reminds me of my grandma and also cause I have a inkling that if I don’t then that may be the slimmest chance that my grandma dies that day

- Saying certain words or prayers while doing unrelated tasks; not sure if I understand this bit fully but over the past year I have started and continued to utter the phrase “stab me” when I get stressed and upset with myself, and in the past and possibly as a precursor when I was still religious and was experiencing unwanted thoughts or crisis of faith I would imagine curved blades curving through my stomach and erupting from my skin like ribs

- “Try not to seek reassurance — It may seem natural to ask for reassurance from others or try to reassure yourself. However, the reality is, reassuring yourself or doing what’s known as reassurance-seeking, is just another compulsion that’s associated with OCD” ; well fuck me

- “Focus on letting go of perfectionism”; this has actually helped significantly over the years

- “OCD symptoms may be reduced but rarely ever go away.”

EDIT:

- “A person may question himself whether he is really concentrating during a prayer, if his faith in God is strong enough…”; you are fucking kidding me!

- “Sometimes a person may start avoiding the place of worship as he feel unworthy of being there, or because his intrusive thoughts may increase when he attends the service….”; aghhhhhhhh

- “Or, a mom would spend hours checking and decontaminating the food before cooking for her kids but will let the kids eat the non-decontaminated food that their dad cooked as long as the mom wasn’t present during that cooking time. This is why I’m referring to this OCD type as responsibility-related. These individuals can’t tolerate the thought of being responsible for causing a disaster.”

- “Constant questioning of self-judgment”

- “People with OCD consistently report that change of any kind, even positive change can be experienced as stressful”

[aurimeanswind]

Letter #1: Hello Again, Little Blog

Hello again! If you’re reading this as someone who *only follows me on Tumblr* girl I bet this is gonna be a surprise huh. If not, and you know me from Irrational Passions, or Twitter, or Instagram or something, then welcome back to my little blog. I used to write here every week, a little diddy I called Sunday Chats, where I’d take some questions from Twitter, talk about stuff I was working on, and just flex the writing muscles. It’s been about six years since the last time I did that, which is kind of insane to write out and think about.

Anyway, I’m back, and hey, I’m a girl! That’s cool, right??? This first “letter” is going to be a lot about that, since today is my one year anniversary of starting hormone replacement therapy (HRT), so we’ll get to that. I’m changing up the format, these will be letters from me, written as such, but really they’re just blog posts. I’ll leave up my old chats for a while, but they may get archived at some point, just because I’m not really that person anymore. 

Anyway, preface aside, my name is Auri, and it’s nice to see you again. :)

—

Dear Friends,

Hello! From a new me. A new life. It’s kind of insane what can happen in a year, ya know? How much happier you can become, how much grief you can experience, how much your wardrobe can change!

I’ve missed writing, and writing to you in particular, so I hope you don’t mind a little self-indulgence. I have a lot to catch you up on, so it feels appropriate to write about it, to jot it down and get it in some more semi-permanent format. 

I often think about the question, “what does it mean to you, to be a woman,” as a trans person, and it’s a complicated question, because women are all things and also sometimes very specific things, like sisters, or mothers, or daughters. To me, it’s just who I am. It’s a piece of me that I buried deep down and tried to pretend like it was something I didn’t deserve, that I didn’t belong. It’s something that haunted me, that I thought about being everyday for years. I’d have dreams where I’d do mundane things, like go for walks, do the dishes, but I was a girl. I know this is something I’ve not really talked about online, and I wanted to change that. I wanted to share my experience here, because back in the day, talking about Depression or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome helped people who read here, who would reach out to me and say they appreciated how open I was about these things. Well, now I want to be open about being transgender, because it’s a huge part of who I am, it’s something I am earnestly proud of, and it’s maybe the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life.

So when did it start?

Those dreams, or things I’d dismissively call intrusive thoughts, had been with me since my early 20s. When I found out that cisgendered people don’t actually think about being the opposite gender all the time, I was actually pretty shocked. I thought, “oh well I’m sure there are tons of men that think about being a girl all the time,” and yeah, it turns out that isn’t true! And if you’re sitting here reading this and thinking, “wait… really?” well uh, hey! I’ve been there! And I won’t assume anything on your part just like I didn’t on my own, but I want you to know that it’s actually very good and healthy to explore that feeling, to dig deeper and ask yourself what that means to you. 

I didn’t do that for the longest time. It started with, “hey, I wish I could just be a girl for a day,” and I thought that everyday for years, and then it became a month, then a year, then a dream, then a wish. “God I wish I could be a girl, just because that’s what feels right to me.” I’d look at pictures of my friends, of people or celebrities I had a crush on and analyze their clothes, wishing I could wear things like that. Turns out this is a form of gender-envy, and was giving me gender dysphoria, which was a big contributor to the very same depression I’d write about in this blog years ago. A fog in my mind, a feeling like I am holding my breath everywhere I go. I would hate looking at myself in the mirror, even when I felt confident, or good. I hated being naked, or changing, and I hated myself, to be quite honest. 

So I finally started reflecting. I knew what it was, even if I buried it deep down. The time alone during the throes of 2020 led to a lot of self-reflection, and after dinner one night I asked my rock, my best friend of 20+ years and the best person in my life, Damien, if I could talk to him about something serious. I was so nervous, partly because I didn’t know what Damien would say, and partly because I didn’t know what I’d say! I remember taking him into my room, where I was most comfortable, and curling up in a ball on my couch, feeling the tightness in my chest, and holding so tight to my legs balled up to me, curled in fear of everything, of judgment, of the world. He ended up being more scared than me! Until I finally just said, for the first time ever out loud, “sometimes I think I was born as the wrong gender.”

The journey of self-discovery is a long one, and it all starts with one step. This was mine. After our talk I felt such a lift off my shoulders. It was December 2020, and it’d be years until I really let myself take the next step.

So what is the next step?

I talked to a psychiatrist, I talked to my specialist, and after a year of thinking about it, I finally made an appointment to see an endocrinologist, or a “hormone doctor,” as I have been calling them. I had to make an appointment three months out, which may be because there are a lot of trans folks out there, but also hormones are super important to everyone! Those 90 days were the longest of my life I feel. But I had the support of a small handful of friends behind me. My friend Alyssa was the second person I told, and she was just as warm and welcoming as Damien, allowing me to ask questions, to be myself, to explore what it was to be “she” instead of him. 

March 6th 2023. The day I saw my doctor and started my dose of estradiol (estrogen) and spironolactone (testosterone blocker). Just one year ago! I took a picture that day, and looking back on it, I sure do hate looking at it, along with most old pictures of me to be honest. But I knew when I took it that this would (hopefully) be the one I look back on and then look in the mirror and remind myself I made the right decision. And it is, I was right. 

Now for point of reference, here is a picture of me today:

In all fairness, I was at a particularly low point of my life, it’d be a few months still before I would even feel myself change and become the woman I was always meant to be. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and I still have years and years left of changes and breast growth and voice training and hair styling and… well, you get the idea. I’m no “trans-master” and I don’t want to give that impression. Everyday I still learn something new, and grow in ways I never knew I could. I love that.

So what happens next?

Next was some long months of doubt. Sometimes for trans folks, they know for sure, they’re counting the seconds until they can start the proper hormones their body has been craving. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure until May of 2023, two months being on Hormones, and I was scared, and I just followed my heart.

This may seem “contrary to the trans experience” but I’ve found that the trans experience is very much a moving target. Everyone is different, and everyone has a different timeline in their head of what they think it should look like. I spent a lot of long months thinking I was “too old” to transition (not true) or that because I didn’t think about wearing dresses through my childhood I wasn’t “trans enough” (also, very untrue). I worried that because my dysphoria wasn’t at a certain level or because I didn’t know with absolute certainty that this was the path that I wasn’t really trans, I was faking it out of some identity crisis, which is dangerously close to a very dangerous narrative posited at trans people to discourage them. 

Sitting here, one full year into my physical transition, happiest I’ve ever been, realest I’ve ever felt, it seems pretty silly thinking about those things, doesn’t it? But I can’t overstate how scary it is to transition, to change your body in permanent ways, to take the leap of faith, with everything happening in our country, with ideas like “Project 2025” looming over our future like a specter. Right now, especially, it’s in your face, but reflecting on how invisible the struggles of trans rights were even before that gives you perspective, sometimes making it feel like it’s never a good time to transition, but really, it’s the best it has been depending on where you live, and that is a privilege, even if it’s also a nightmare just across a state border.

All these thoughts come from months of self-reflection, and the feeling still translates at times to “years of wasted time,” and I hate that, but I carry on regardless. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, my brain feels clear and solid and unified in a way it never has before, I’ve learned what confidence feels like, truly, for the first time. When I look in the mirror, I smile, because I love the girl looking back at me. I can’t, in any words, really communicate to you what that is like, what it’s like to look at yourself and feel uncomfortable, then look at yourself and feel a light, and joy, but I can tell you it’s incredible. 

So it’s been a whole year.

What’s next? Who knows! Some people might think about surgeries or procedures or things of that nature, and maybe, we’ll see. Right now I am focused on fixing my terrible financial situation, which is generally unrelated to my transition. Focus on my life outside of all of this. I told myself when I started, I wanted to just focus on this for a while, and it’s been a whole calendar year. And it feels incredible. I’ve learned that I’m always going to be focusing on this, on me, but I’m ready to juggle a few more plates. 

I have plans to make a safe place for trans people to hangout and chat, specifically in the gaming sphere. I want to put myself out there in a way that I haven’t before, and connect with queer folk in spaces I’ve told myself I don’t belong to for years and years. I want to make new friends and learn of the struggles of other folks, and be more than just an example, but an advocate for kindness and patience in the trans sphere. I want to spread my wings, I guess, and it feels so nice to have found and understand that.

What do I have to say in reflection? I have come back to the phrase, “I didn’t know life could feel this good.” I really didn’t. It’s not about “being a woman,” it’s about living your truth, a phrase I have particularly latched onto in the last couple of years. Being your authentic, true self. I used to carry all this anger in me, and it was a poisoned well that was all I had to drink from. A bitterness and jealousy that haunted me. I wanted to embrace a gentle kindness, and I feel like I pretended to be that person for years. I treated people poorly, I didn’t listen when I should have. Now, I can say confidently that I am living as that person I knew I was. I have embraced her, and told her it’s going to be okay, and we’ll get through this together. I can’t wait to keep being her.

So this is a promise, to return and write again, about these types of things, maybe finish talking about that first year and how it’s been, talk about grief and how I feel like I’ve only truly experienced it for the first time, how I’ve found new closeness and new distance with family, and many more things like that. 

Thanks for reading, if you did, and thanks for listening. I hope this helped you open your heart to a girl from Maryland who is grateful for you, and I hope you’ll come back again. Until then, stay positive, it gets better. <3

Love,

Auri

[johnlockdynamic]

hello to new non-bot followers +fair warning that my personal posting is annoying af <3

[goxjo]

No Secrets / Ryomen Sukuna

thinking about being sukuna’s vessel, him taking over for you when he knows you’ve been neglecting yourself : alternatively, in which sukuna lends you a hand.

cw ⋮ hard dubcon (borderline noncon), touch-starved, masturbation, fingering, edging, shared orgasm, squirting, possession, corruption

a/n ⋮ reposted from my old blog! my waifu spanx agreed to beta this on short notice so thank you @suspensin! poor spence had to suffer through my constant tense changes but she fixed them & that was so sexc of her!! <3

+ 1,210 words, female parts, no reader pronouns

— jjk masterlist

If only he wasn’t always watching.

You were almost convinced that your intrusive thoughts weren’t yours anymore. They were his. That line had been blurred ever since you and him became one.

It was bad enough that he had access to your mind, bad enough that he knew your wants, bad enough that he knew the outline of your body all too well. You wouldn’t have a problem with it if he learned all this through the buildup of intimacy. Except, nothing here was in any way intimate. If anything, it was invasive.

Everyday was a constant battle for dominance, and it was nothing short of exhausting.

It was especially difficult in the long nights when you just wanted to make yourself feel good.

The mere thought of sharing an orgasm with a demon didn’t sit well with you. He was no one worthy of witnessing firsthand what it took for you to break, what kind of thoughts you got off to, or where you like to be touched. You weren’t too keen on letting him have the only thing left of yours that was private.

But it had been far too long since you’d had one.

You’d become too sensitive.

The slightest touch was enough to make you clench your walls.

You tried to fight off every single obscene thought that Sukuna sent your way. He toyed with you every chance he got. He filled your mind with images of you, spread out on your couch, stuffing your cunt with your, actually his, digits.

You were so close to smearing all of your wetness across your folds.

“Your urges are your own, you know,” he growled.

He knew how many times you thought about it, how much you missed the feeling of friction in between your thighs. And he was right. You fucking hated that he was right. He knew that you had no way out of this. You had since lost your ability to hide anything from him.

“You ache for it. It’s been far too long.”

His words were loud and precise. Not to mention, potent. His words were poison to you — a deep, enchanting growl that resonated in your head, forcing heat to spread all throughout your body like wildfire.

“You’re in dangerous fucking territory, Sukuna,” you declared as your fists gripped tightly onto your clothes. Your labored breaths told him just how much you needed this.

Even at your wits’ end, you tried to threaten him. Every inch of your body tried to resist him. Every part of you did, except for one thing. Your insides betrayed you. And unfortunately, that only seemed to rile him up.

You felt his smile creeping up along the hairs of your nape. A heavy baritone called for your name — over and over again until you couldn’t get ahold of yourself anymore.

Sukuna had you defeated.

—

Black lines tainted your skin, indicating his control over you. One by one, his marks decorated you from head to toe. You saw and felt everything but you’re a bystander in your own body.

He reached down. He found you pooling behind the lace barrier of your panties, and you could only squirm in shame.

“It’s torture how you would deprive yourself of these fingers.”

“I’m warning you, Sukuna,” you muttered.

“Warn me again, after this.

“I dare you,” he added, and you could’ve sworn you felt his warm breath fan behind your ear.

If Sukuna was poison, his hands were the fucking cure.

At that, two fingers spread your folds wide open, and the ever so slight tear was enough to make you wince. He cupped your breast and roughly pulled at your nipple. You cried out to him over and over again but you never once asked him to stop.

“Louder.”

“Sukuna, please,” you prayed.

He heard you. Your lips cried foul but your body said otherwise. You were screaming grace, he thought. His grim smile only grew wider the more you pleaded. It felt only right for him to do the honors.

At that moment, he saw a new side of you.

Delicate.

He had never wanted you more.

“I’m flattered. Taunt me more, why don’t you?” He teased, and evidently, he proved to you just how helpless you were.

Next thing you knew, you tore your panties with a force that wasn’t your own.

Immediately, he responded to your thoughts. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Black fingernails reminded you that this wasn’t you — definitely not your thumb grazing over your clit as three fingers fucked your hole. Those weren’t your hands anymore, but that was your own slick covering his fingers.

Disgusting, you thought.

But in actuality, you were only beating yourself up for how good he was defiling you.

He knew you were close. It was too soon, he thought. He hadn’t had his fill yet. He had never savored you like this before.

“I want you to be honest with me. Stop denying me,” he commanded.

With tears rolling out of your eyes, you pleaded, “Sukuna, make me cum.”

“Beg!”

He had absolute control over you, and yet with one swipe at your sweet spot, your hips jolted up as if he did too.

He moaned at the same time as you, gritted his teeth at the same time as you, and the warmth in your belly was too much to be solely yours.

You figured that he might’ve been playing tricks on you. But his reactions were too raw. Too real.

This was happening to him too.

He was full of need all along. He needed your body just as much as you needed to be touched.

Sukuna hissed at your realization.

“Tell me you’re glad I’m touching you for you.”

“I’m g—”

“No, better yet, tell me you’re grateful.”

“Please, Sukuna. I’m grateful to you!” You chanted.

“Now, tell me you’re indebted to me.”

“I’m — I’m indebted to you, only you.”

He hooked his fingers — rubbing at your clit as he scratched the inside of your walls, and you thanked him for his roughness. It had been so long since anything filled you and now, you were desperate enough to appreciate anything, even if it meant you would be having his claws.

His heart raced and so did yours. You weren’t prepared for what he was going to ask you but you knew all along that this was what he wanted. His patience was unrivaled. He waited and waited until you were at your most vulnerable.

“Promise me,” he said.

“Sukuna, pleasepleaseplease—”

“Let me have you whenever I want you.”

You were about to make a pact — a pact much worse than the curse you were already in. You were digging your own grave. But you would die without this cure.

“Yesyesyesyesy—”

You hummed what was now his favorite tune, over and over again as you felt your long overdue release. Fluids shot out of your hole as if he let out his seed at the same time.

Slowly, you regained control over your fingers, and carried on pumping your walls because his work was not nearly enough.

But the feeling was nowhere near the same.

You soiled yourself. You damned yourself. But it was all worth it.

[nev3rfound]

blame it on the neighbours : b.b

having recently moved in next door, you and bucky become fast friends. however, there's something looming between the two of you and it comes to light when it's revealed you're in the hospital. (1.7k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: yes! by the very sweet @didsomeonesaybucky warnings: bucky freaking out if that counts? descriptions of hospitals

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Ever since you moved in and became Bucky's next-door neighbour, he could tell things were going to be different. In the first instance, he could hear you in the corridor, chatting away happily to your other neighbours, offering baked goods. He watched cautiously through the peephole, still having to yet meet you, he merely observed from afar.

When he finally met you, it wasn't the interaction he quite hoped for.

Standing in front of his door with a tray of cookies in hand, you release a shaky breath having heard from your other neighbours that the occupant in apartment 4F wasn't the friendliest. But you would simply have to judge that for yourself, you told them.

"He's a bit of a strange one, dear." Your neighbour, Clarissa in 2F warned you as she accepted the container of muffins you had made that morning. "Doesn't really leave or go out much, I think I've only ever heard him say morning once in the six months he's been here!" Her words echo in the back of your mind as you lift your hand up, knuckles lightly tapping the door.

With wide eyes, Bucky hesitantly walks toward the door and stares straight through the peephole. His breath halters, watching as you stare down at your feet.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky glides his fingers over the several locks across his door and slides through the small gap in the doorway with an attempted smile gracing his lips.

"Hi," You start, now lifting your eyes up toward this mysterious neighbour who is definitely not what you anticipated. "I, I'm Y/n, I moved in next door a week ago," Motioning to your apartment, Bucky forces his eyes to glance across down the hall before averting them back to you, taking in your features up close as you rub your lips together.

"Yeah, I heard you moving in." Bucky comments, internally cringing at his choice of wording. "I mean, I," His words falter at the sound of you chuckling softly to yourself. "can I start again? Is that alright?" He asks, grateful that you nod. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm James."

"Well, it's lovely to know my other neighbour, James. I, these are for you." Thrusting the tray forward, Bucky pushes his door open further with his foot to accept the tray, forgetting he didn't have his glove on.

Your eyes wander down to see his left arm is entirely metal. "Thanks." He mutters, feeling your eyes burning into his arm.

"I'm sorry," You quickly say, looking up at his face. "it's rude to stare, my Mom would scold me if she were here right now."

Bucky shakes his head, moving his leg to catch the back of the door. "Don't worry 'bout it." He brushes it off, but he notices your eyes wandering around the bland corridor and your lips parting.

"You don't happen to know any good places for dinner 'round here?" You move the conversation on, causing Bucky to raise a brow in response. "I'm kinda new to the area and I was wondering if you knew any good spots." You shrug your shoulders, hoping he couldn't read your mind and know that sentence was a complete lie.

"Erm, yeah." He sheepishly tells you, hearing Doctor Raynor droning in the back of his mind about putting himself out there, and not on those godforsaken dating apps again. "There's a great sushi place I know of."

Your smile brightens at his suggestion, and Bucky can't ignore how his lips rise at the sight. "Great, wanna join me then since you know it so well?" You suggest nonchalantly. "And you can always enjoy those as a dessert afterwards."

Looking down at the tray of warm cookies, Bucky tries to hide the sound of his stomach grumbling against the tray.

"Sure," He reaches into his apartment, grabbing his things including his gloves before following you out. "so, what brings you to Brooklyn?"

*

It's been several months since you moved in next door, and Bucky couldn't be happier that you plucked up the courage to knock that day.

Every week you two hang out, sometimes you join him and Yori for lunch who spends most of the time trying to convince Bucky to ask you out (only to be scolded when you're absent.) Sometimes you'll cook dinner, dance around your apartment and watch movies or wander around the city whilst Bucky tells you old stories; just like normal friends do, right?

It was truly blissful, but there was still so much about each other you had yet to learn.

Running his fingers through his combed hair, Bucky tugs on his blue henley before heading out.

As he locks his front door, he carries out dinner that he promised to make for you tonight.

"Oh, James." Your neighbour in 2F, Clarissa, stands in front of her door with her handbag and walking stick.

"Hi, Clarissa." Bucky forces a small smile, having heard her conversations regarding his past, muttering about having a murderer in the building shouldn't be allowed.

"Heading into Y/n's I take it." She hums, eyeing him carefully as he nods in response. "She should be back later, told me she had to go to the hospital." Waving herself off, Clarissa turns the lock in her doors.

"The hospital?" Bucky speaks up as the containers in his hands begin to slip, his mind going a hundred miles an hour. "Y/n's in the hospital?" Trying not to yell, Bucky steps closer, causing Clarissa to clutch her handbag tightly in front of her chest.

"Yes," Clarissa states calmly, but Bucky notices the keys in her right hand begin to shake.

"Thanks." Bucky mutters, stepping away as he darts back into his own apartment and grabs his coat, barely able to process his thoughts before rushing down the stairwell with nothing but you on his mind.

Reaching the entrance to the hospital, Bucky hands the driver some money without any words being exchanged. Bucky knew he looked like hell; he couldn't focus properly on anything. He had only seen you last night, the two of you in his apartment painting his living room walls, laughing together as you accidentally flicked paint across his cheek.

The reception area was crowded, voices bounced from wall to wall as Bucky strode toward the desk where a woman sat, staring blankly at a screen.

"How can I help?" She asks, briefly glancing up at Bucky before focusing on her screen once more.

Suddenly lost for words, Bucky homes in on a man crying in the waiting area, loudly sobbing into his hands as a nurse stands over him.

"Y/n Y/l/n, I'm looking for Y/n." Bucky forces the words out as the Nurse simply nods whilst typing away, humming a tune to herself.

"Oh okay," The Nurse pauses as her eyes scan over the monitor.

Clutching the edge of the desk, Bucky can hear the plates in his metal arm whirring as his grip tightens, nearly tearing the panel off as the silence becomes insufferable.

"So Y/n is currently in the operating theatre." The nurse tells Bucky nonchalantly, glancing up to see something change in his expression.

"No," Shaking his head, Bucky steps back. "she, I, I we were going to have dinner." It sounds pathetic to him, saying it aloud. But seeing you, having any moment with you made him feel human again, almost normal.

"Yeah, crazy how schedules fall." A heavy sigh leaves the nurses lips, unaware of the cool gaze that is locking in on her.

"Do you know when she'll be-" Before Bucky can finish his sentence, he's caught off guard by someone calling his name from the corridor.

"James?" You chuckle, walking toward him wearing your uniform adorned with your badge.

"Doll?" Bucky stutters, stepping closer as he tries to stop the tears in his eyes from forming. "You, you're okay?" He mumbles, looking you over, keeping his hands on your arms.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You ask, evidently surprised. "Everything okay, James?" Lowering your voice, you peer down to look him in the eyes whilst his head hangs low.

"Clarissa said you were in the hospital." Bucky huffs in annoyance to himself. "I, I didn't put it together," He mumbles. "I forgot that you,"

"That I'm a Doctor?" Holding back the laugh in your throat, you sigh before tugging Bucky closer into your embrace. "I'm okay, James. I'm only sorry you came all this way."

Keeping you in his arms, Bucky doesn't want to let go. Whilst your face rests in the crook of his neck, he allows a few stray tears to fall in relief. "I, I made us dinner." He eventually says, feeling you pull back to look at him, your eyes softening at the trails left on his cheeks.

"Oh, James." Raising your hand, you cup his cheek. "I'll be off work in an hour. I'm so sorry I should've said something or let you know sooner."

Shaking his head, Bucky takes your hand from his cheek and runs his fingers over your knuckles. "Don't worry 'bout it, Y/n. I'm just glad you're safe." He tells you, wishing he could say something else, but for now, that was enough.

"Did you make,- Your eyes light up in excitement, but Bucky cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

"Yep." Bucky chuckles as you do a little dance. "You're such a dork sometimes, doll."

"Yeah," You admit, slipping your hand from his as you bury them in your pockets. "but would you have me any other way, neighbour?" Raising a brow to him, Bucky shakes his head. "Thought as much."

"I'll keep dinner warm for you." He smiles, hearing the word neighbour circle his thoughts. Yet, for once, Bucky forces his intrusive thoughts aside as his lips brush across your forehead. "Be good, Doc." He can't help but laugh to himself at the sound of your heart beating rapidly whilst externally, you remain cool.

"I'll try my best, Barnes." You salute him, watching as he walks back out of the hospital, knowing he's one step closer to calling you his girl.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

@bissstuff @psychicforest@lourightm@mywinterwolf@justsomedreaming @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx@courtneychicken@marvelsangels@supraveng@tommy-lee-81@smilexcaptainx@fandom-princess-forevermore@sarge-barnes-sir@pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated-fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs@eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8@notbrooklynsblog @nikkixostan @cosmiccaptian @adoreyou976@sarcasticallywitty15 @multi-fandom-princess07 @16boyfriends-and-me @courtneychicken @mackevanstan80 @torchwoodoctor @pleasantlysecretdream @yougottalovefandoms @magicalxdaydream@soccer-100000 @tenaciousperfectionunkown @talksoprettyjjx @btsonthedaily @jessyballet @katiaw2 @buckyswildflower@lucrea @weenersoldierr @katiaw2 @lucrea @amelia-song-pond @bluelakeee @dottirose @emilytheukuleleplayer @5-seconds-of-mendes @rudystilins  @bookfrog242@wild-rose-35@fleurlovesbucky@iiclarixa @soldierstucky@twinerd14@lieswithoutfairytales@ateliefloresdaprimavera@teenwonder@weenersoldierr@nobody-will @ilikemypolarbear @rottenstyx @original-in-itself @sebby-staan @bbl32 @lyoongx @iilwjbb @siriuslyslytherin @chazubagi @youngmarveltastypersona

[bastardsofravenkroft-blog]

• navigation •

READ AND LIKE BEFORE YOU FOLLOW THIS BLOG.

last update: 6/16/22

Aura/Poison/Rose

born early ‘00s

Agender they/them/ae/aer/any neutral pronouns

Panromantic

Neurodivergent

Sometimes I sit still long enough to write something.

My current hyperfixation/special interests are My Chemical Romance/Gerard Way/Fabulous Killjoys.

KEEP READING

BLOG WARNINGS:

I occasionally talk about my intrusive thoughts, sh, gender/species dysphoria, my mental health struggles, and that im neurodivergent etc, but i always tag appropriately (ask for more tags, its fine).

I use the word queer. Don’t like it, don’t interact. I use the word as a description for myself.

I am a cringy ass teenager, thats not gonna fuckin change.

Curses and all caps used.

TRIGGERS:

No major ones, but please give warning before discussing: Sewerslide, sh, derealization, intrusive thoughts, eds, ex: idolization of extremely skinny bodies

DO NOT INTERACT:

TERFs/“Radical feminists”/“Gender critical” fuck off.

“Not into politics”. The only time this is okay is if it’s a “I don’t yet know enough to have an opinion.” If you’re saying you don’t have an opinion, you’re conservative and realized that doesn’t get you laid. 

Conservatives. 

Trump supporters.

Eating disorder specific blogs. (not personal, its a minor trigger.)

Sewerslide idolization blogs.

Queer as a choice. (its not, get fucked)

Racists, queerphobes, ableists, you get the fucking idea

LINDSEY WAY SUPPORTERS/MSI LISTENERS. ZERO TOLERANCE, NOT SAFE SPACE.

DO NO HESITATE TO LET ME KNOW IF IVE INVALIDATED YOUR BLOG BY MISTAKE. YOUR SAFTEY OVER A STRANGER’S COMFORT.

My writing masterlist!

requests are open, either through dm’s, asks, or discord (all below in carrd) if you attempt to email me you probably won’t hear back for at least a week, as I consistently forget it exists.

Carrd

Previous hyperfixations/special interests:

Marvel/MCU, Harry Potter, Taylor Swift, traditional art

Other interests:��

Doctor Who, Good Omens, The Umbrella Academy, The Magnus Archives, Percy Jackson, fashion, Tudor Era, WWII, music, art, crochet, embroidery, aesthetics, subculture/counterculture

Blog Tags:

w i p

Other information:

Queer. Very queer. 

Likes books. 

Fanfiction is more than valid.

Acts like I’ve had too much coffee 24/7.

I don’t experience gender in the same way lots of other people do, so I’d like to be respected there. Lots of people have a connection to their gender and can find a place within that, and I’m happy for you but I don’t understand it and it doesn’t work for me. (Yes, I tag some things as gender or gender envy, but that’s pretty much me wanting every speck of my existence to encompass that picture or word or whatever.) For terms to use and not use see here.

Please please please do not refer to me as girl, even when used as slang it usually makes me pretty uncomfortable.

I do curse and usually don’t bleep it out. 

You can dm me at any time, I will be awkward because I am just awkward.  Ask for tags added to posts, including like all caps, cursing etc

Ask box is always open, anon is always on. Feel free to tag me in shit <3 Avid defendant of the Vampire mode/color scheme.

Ex-urls are in tags

Gerard Way enthusiast

Cherri Cola and Milo Thatch stan

Finally, prepz dni. (complete joke, lifted from my immortal, that harry potter fanfic.)

*will be added to as I see fit.

**please lmk if any links are broken :)

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

Sorry if this is long but I’m questioning whether I am ace or not so I hope you don’t mind if I ask a few questions;

1) Is it possible to be asexual over time? For example, I used to feel sexual attraction when I was younger but suddenly stopped experiencing that.

2) do some asexuals think about sex often but don’t desire it? I often get intrusive thoughts including sexual ones but I heard that asexuals don’t think about sex at all.

3) sometimes I will have the desire to have sex and want to do it but then other times I am repulsed by the thought.

4) I feel like I don’t relate to allos but I also don’t relate to asexuals and I kinda feel broken and lost.

5) I also heard someone say that when they first had a sex Ed class they were indifferent and didn’t care about it but I was really interested in it, does this mean I’m not ace?

I’m sorry if this was really long I’m just really confused about my sexuality and want to know why I don’t feel like very one else.

All good, Anon. I don’t mind long asks.

1) Yes. Sometimes people have a fluid orientation, and this means their orientation can literally change (either once or multiple times). This can happen with any orientation to any other orientation. And yes sometimes people will become asexual as they get older.

For asexuality specifically this can happen naturally (like any other orientation), or there may be an outside cause. For example some medication may kill sex drive, or sometimes losing interest in sex can be a reaction to trauma. It’s OK to ID as ace when there’s an outside cause too, especially if they find the label useful or helpful.

The one caveat I give to this is if your sex drive died suddenly, it’s a good idea to get a doctor to check that out. This can happen naturally but sometimes it can also be the result of a medical issue and it’s good to just make sure.

2) Aces vary a lot in how much or little they think about sex. Some don’t at all, and some do constantly and everything in between. Intrusive thoughts about sex are also very common for aces, especially if they have doubts about their identity (this is because when you doubt you're constantly testing or your anxiety is creating the thoughts).

And yes some aces think about sex and don’t desire it. There’s a lot of reasons why someone can be thinking about sex, they may like in the abstract, but not as a real concrete thing; they may find it interesting; they may be having intrusive thoughts; etc.

3) Repulsion is not consistent for everyone. For some people who experience sex repulsion it may be stronger at some times than others, even when the situation is the same. Or gone completely sometimes. My general rule for repulsion is that it doesn’t really follow any specific rules. It’s different for everyone.

4)If you still feel like asexuality isn’t right for you, you may find gray-ace to be a useful label. It was originally coined to describe that gray area between asexuality and allosexuality, for people who felt like they didn’t fit entirely with either. Now the meaning is a little broader, but people who know they aren’t fully allo and also feel like asexual feels like it’s too far in the other direction find gray-ace to be a really useful label.

Ace-spec is another label people like to use sometimes when they’re not sure where they fall exactly under the ace umbrella. And ace-spec covers the entire ace spectrum, including all aces and gray-aces. So some people find that label useful too. (Anyone who is on the ace-spectrum can call themselves ace-spec and there’s a lot of reasons to choose to do so, this is just one of them.)

(Some people also use ace, gray ace and/or ace-spec at the same time, while others prefer just one, or two, so when choosing these labels it’s important to think about what is useful for you and makes sense for you personally.)

5) It’s important to remember that asexuality is a large spectrum, that’s comprised of a lot of different identities and experiences. Some aces won’t feel anything during a sex ed course, but that’s not the experience of every ace. If you did, you may still be asexual.

So I like to define asexuality, especially for people who are questioning, as not meeting the criteria to be fully allosexual. Feeling alienated from allosexuality/allonormative culture. Relating to the asexual community to the point of finding identifying as asexual useful.

So it covers a lot of experiences. So don’t worry if other people are different from you, it doesn’t mean you’re wrong if you feel like asexuality may fit you as a label too.

I definitely recommend reading up on other ace experiences, follow some ace blogs, check out Carnival of Aces. Or however else you may find it is all good. I always found that kind of stuff the most useful when I was questioning. And take your time to read and process. It’s rare to have a lightbulb moment and know a label is right for you, usually these things come on gradually.

You don’t have to be an expert in ace identities to ID as ace, just feeling like the label feels right or that allosexual feels wrong is enough. But sometimes research can also help you feel more secure in your identity or just help you understand yourself better, so it’s up to you how much you want research. And if you have more questions, feel free to ask. You can also check out the faq for this blog if you want to see some of the more basic concepts broken down.

This is a lot of information all at once, but hopefully it’s helpful. All the best and good luck!

[cerebipalsy]

I don’t post a lot of my own stuff on this blog because of paranoia but I’ve been feeling pretty overwhelmed since my top surgery with life in general. I think that it has less to do with that than the fact that I haven’t taken my medication in a few days, but I digress—any advice or encouragement is very much appreciated.

I got booted from the Honors college at school because I did poorly this spring semester. I had very little energy or motivation beyond anything but this site and video games, and I know it’s my own fault. But now I worry about my capacity to work at all in this state.

I’m a neuroscience major and it’s all I ever thought I wanted for years, but I’m not sure anymore…and I think I’m past the point of no return on changing it. I won’t feel fulfilled without some sort of graduate degree. Research is my calling, but I worry I’m going to do just as badly that my parents will find out and cut me off from here. I need that space, especially with all the hurt I’ve already endured.

My transition has literally and figuratively taken a large weight off my chest, but I still feel lost. I know I’m not alone, but I’m excruciatingly lonely and I don’t want to be told any longer that I need to love myself before seeking a relationship. I want to be touched, I want to feel desired and not feel the nagging intrusion that it’s out of pity or obligation. I’ve been in and out of therapy for 9 years and it feels as though I’ve moved very little. I get close to people too quickly and drive them away and my social mistakes continue to haunt me. I try to avoid emotionally hurting others and do so in that process. It’s difficult for me to draw the line between healthy morality and obsessive-compulsive scrupulosity.

All of this on top of state politics, the fact that my mom has her name on my credit card and can see every transaction, and my continued attempts to dodge their questioning of my own beliefs as well as my perceptions of how they treat me…it’s exhausting. I know I can only do so much but it’s never enough.

I’m safe. I don’t want to be hospitalized. I’m tired. I don’t know how to go on.

[losille2000]

The Swan, Chapter 6

TITLE: The Swan CHAPTER NUMBER: 6/? AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH Tom/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance/Drama FIC SUMMARY: Sequel to The Ugly Duckling. Astrid embarks on a two-week trip to London to serve as her sister’s maid of honor, hoping against all hope she might miraculously run into her Hawaiian mystery man. When her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law drag her to a production of Hamlet to meet the groom’s best man, Astrid gets the shock of her life. The situation, though, is anything but perfect. RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: None in this chapter. AUTHORS NOTES: So... what can I say? It's been a while. If you want the whole story, you can look through my blog or message me. I'm happy to answer. That said, it's been a good three years since I did any serious writing. My writing muscles need to build back up to what they were before. Please be kind... and let me know what you think. :D

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ALSO ON AO3!

Chapter 6 - Flying the Coop

Regret.

Astrid regretted ever stomping up those stairs to Tom’s bedroom. She regretted challenging him to make a move. She regretted letting him have his way with her. In the moment, it seemed right. Maybe if they slept together again, they’d find an incompatibility, especially now that the air of tropical mystery had dissipated and left in its place two broken flesh-and-blood people.

How wrong could she have been?

Now it was amplified, deeper, hotter, engulfing.

Only two weeks for whatever this fire was to fizzle?

It wasn’t, as the Brits say, bloody likely.

And here she was, smack dab in the position she didn’t want to be in; no matter how tangentially her current association with her mother, the family business, and Hollywood was, being connected to Tom in this way presented too many problems to even consider at this point. And fucking him—

“Astrid, are you even listening to me?”

Astrid jumped from the intrusion, letting out a slight squeak. She blinked hard and turned in her spot to look at her sister, who stood in the middle of the furnished but unoccupied flat. “Sorry?”

“Are you okay?” Tilde asked. “You’ve been spacey after the dress shop— and I’m just worried.”

“You don’t need to worry.”

“Let me worry,” she begged. “Let me be the big sister I never got to be.”

Astrid laughed ruefully. If only she could actually talk with Tilde about Tom. She wouldn’t understand, or at the very least, it could pose some very difficult situations in the coming days with the wedding right around the corner. But, Astrid guessed, Tilde meant the other elephant in the room... Astrid being the elephant, and their mother being a Class A narcissist. Because there was absolutely no way Tilde would know about what had happened at Tom’s home...

“It’s too late for that, Tilde,” Astrid said. “You know I love you. I just— there’s no changing her.”

Tilde grumbled and glided over to the couch in the living room. She dropped down on top of the cushions, barely displacing the pillow stuffing with her slight ballet-formed frame. “I should have never allowed her to do all this. I should have done it on my own, it’s not like Jim and I are so hard up. But I thought...”

Astrid held up a hand to stop her sister and sat on the couch more gingerly than Tilde, measuredly, so as not to displace any stuffing in the overstuffed couch, either. Something her mother had taught her, after all: If you’re not going to put in effort to look like a lady, you can at least act like one.

God, even that memory still hurt, down to the marrow in her bones.

“But you did.” Astrid shrugged and laid her head on the back of the couch. There, she sighed.

The sisters sat in silence for some time, listening to Duchess rooting around the flat for something to chew on. When the pug found nothing, she eventually jumped up onto the couch and snuggled into Tilde’s lap.

Astrid cleared her throat. “It’s not all Mom, either. I’m just tired from jet lag and getting everything together for the house party.”

And sleeping with the Best Man. She was pretty sure she’d read a romance novel or a hundred about this situation once. Did that make her a cliché?

“Oh, I meant to ask,” Tilde interjected. “How did that go? Tom was a total tool last night and I was worried about today.”

Astrid licked her lips subconsciously; she could still taste the sugar left by a bite of tiramisu Tom had given to her on a fork. If she concentrated hard enough, she was sure she could still taste the salt of his skin mixed in with it. She could certainly feel the tight muscle in her thigh that pulled every time she shifted, from the way he’d bent it and held it firmly in place as he’d had his way with her.

Frankly, it was a miracle they’d accomplished anything after they ended up in bed. But, she supposed, that was the weirdest part about the whole afternoon. They got out of bed, dressed without speaking and just... worked on what they needed to for the party. There was no discussion. No arguing. Tom stayed a respectable distance from her; she wasn’t sure if she had really wanted him to do it again, over and over, until they were both exhausted. They ate lunch quietly, they got everything organized and packed into his Land Rover, then Tilde showed up and they bade farewell, like it was something they did every day.

Nothing more was said about Hawaii, or a relationship, or lies, or having this end in two weeks. He seemed to be ignoring the topics all together, likely in the misguided belief that if he didn’t bring it up, then everything was fine. She ignored them because discussing WHY she refused to become a true part of his life was too painful.

Astrid pursed her lips and closed her eyes again. Isn’t that what she told him she wanted, though? To feel worshipped and then go about their lives, like nothing happened? Ignore all the elephants and enjoy the sex. No emotion, only sex. He was just following her demands, his need too great to put the brakes on their interlude in his bed.

The problem was that she did want more with him. She wanted emotion and relationships and rainbows and butterflies. When she had thought of him as some wealthy businessman she might once again bump into while visiting London, this had been possible. She had, after all, imagined a reality over the last eighteen months that included falling in love with him and living a life together.

But he wasn’t a businessman. He was an actor. He ran in circles she just couldn’t stomach anymore.

“It was fine. We finished everything and packed it all into his Land Rover for the drive up to Cliveden,” Astrid finally said. “The costume deliveries will be there when we arrive.”

“This really has gotten out of control,” Tilde said. “Part of me just wants to run to the register office and get it over with.”

Astrid shook her head violently. “You do that, and I’ll flip the fuck out. I put too much work into this.”

Tilde laughed. “Scared you, huh?”

“I’m serious, Tilde,” Astrid said, lightly smacking her sister’s thigh. Duchess popped her head up, and thinking it was an invitation for her, came over to her aunt. Astrid cuddled the dog close to her chest, breathing in her freshly bathed fur.

“She likes you,” Tilde said.

Astrid kissed Duchess’ head. “Small children and dogs, apparently.”

Tilde chuckled softly before letting out a long sigh. “I bet she would really like it if her Aunt Astrid were around more.”

“Aunt Astrid is a teacher and never has any time,” she replied directly to Duchess. Duchess reached for the hand that had stopped petting her and touched it with her paw. Her imploring buggy pug eyes asked Aunt Astrid for more.

Tilde huffed, but said nothing more for a long time. Then she cleared her throat. “How do you like the flat, anyway?”

“It’s nice,” Astrid confirmed. In fact, it was nicer than “nice.” This flat looked like one of those staged ads in a real estate magazine with lots of recessed lighting, soft gray colors, top-of-the-line furnishings and a ton of space.

“We’re trying to decide if we’ll sell it or keep it as an investment property,” Tilde replied. “It’s kind of a pain in the ass as a rental property, though.”

Astrid nodded. “You could just give it to Dad’s company to manage.”

Not that doing so was a great option, either.

If Astrid saw her mother irregularly, she saw her father even less. After their separation, he spent time in Las Vegas developing a new casino concept and then, when Astrid graduated from UNLV, moved his business operations permanently back to Sweden. Still, though, the relationship with her father was better than it was with her mother, simply by virtue that he was never around and didn’t have an opportunity to find the weaknesses in her armor like her mother. Tilde rarely spoke about either parent, but Astrid was certain their relationship was similar.

Tilde sat up and turned to look at Astrid seriously. “Or you could move into it.”

“Excuse me?” Astrid said, her heart skipping a few beats, from a sudden surge of anxiety and... something else.

“I’m serious, Astrid,” she said. “We don’t see each other enough and I want to spend time with you and make up for all those years we were apart.”

This wasn’t just some passing fancy. Astrid could see that as plain as day on Tilde’s face. Her sister was determined to convince her to move to London. But for what? She had no support system other than Tilde and James... and her career... well, that was back in Las Vegas.

Not that Las Vegas itself was the most amazing place to live and work.

“I’d never see you anyway,” Astrid argued. “You’re always rehearsing, or preparing to rehearse, or performing. And god knows James is going to be busy doing whatever.”

“Yeah, about that...” Tilde said, trailing off quietly. She picked at the dog hair on her sweater for a few seconds, then slowly looked back at Astrid. “I’m retiring at the end of this season.”

“What?!”

Tilde shrugged. “James and I want a family, and if I wait until it’s a ‘good time,’ it’ll never happen because of our schedules. And really, it’s getting harder and harder to come back from injuries and such. I just... I need a long break from being a performing ballerina. I don’t have the fire I once had, the same will to fight for every goddamn role.”

Astrid simply nodded. This was huge news. Ballet was Tilde’s life. She’d been doing it since she was a little girl, had impeccable skill and training and talent for it. The joke was that Tilde had come out of the womb in pointe shoes.

Which wasn’t that far from the truth, really. As soon as their mother could, she’d gotten Tilde into dance with the best instructors money could buy. Their mother, the failed ballerina, always lived through them. Which explained why she did not like anything about Astrid— Astrid did not have anything that would benefit her.

“Have you told Mom yet?” Astrid asked.

Tilde shook her head. “Of course not! And listen to her prattle on about how I’m a failure and she gave me so much and I’m just a terrible person? No, thank you. I’ll wait until she is permanently back in LA before I tell her.”

Even though Tilde had not yet told anyone else, it somehow eased the tension in Astrid’s shoulders knowing that Tilde would be in their mother’s crosshairs for a change. Typically, that wasn’t the case; their parents always treated Tilde like the perfect golden child. Of course, Tilde had always been one of Astrid’s fiercest allies… when she could. However, since Tilde spent most of her life in London studying at the Royal Ballet from a very early age, support and camaraderie had been scarce. Now, though? Now it felt like she and Tilde could weather the storm together.

Tilde continued, “Yeah. I’m thinking about opening up a dance studio and then after the baby thing happens, if I still have the performing bug in me, then I’ll start guesting. But I’m just so excited to start having babies.”

Stopping the smile from forming on Astrid’s lips was impossible as she registered the excitement on Tilde’s face. Astrid felt the enthusiasm coming from Tilde’s corner of the couch. “I’m excited for you, Tilde.”

And she was. She truly was.

Tilde reached out and grabbed Astrid’s hand. “I’m serious, though, Astrid. We never had a great family growing up, and I see this as an opportunity to right the wrongs of the past and create the family we should have had growing up.”

“I don’t know, Til.”

“James and I have both talked about it a lot and we both agree.”

“Tilde, even if I did move here,” Astrid began, “I don’t know the first thing about teaching in England.”

Tilde nodded. “I know. But James’ parents are retired teachers. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you make heads or tails of it.”

Astrid pursed her lips and turned to stare at the dormant fireplace sitting in front of them. Duchess, who had not moved, made happy dog purr noises as Astrid massaged the tiny velvet triangles of her ears. To be fair to Tilde, Astrid had often thought of moving to London to be nearer to her, but she never thought it would happen or that Tilde would actually need or want her here. The fact that she was wanted made emotion spring to her eyes and prick at them until they watered.

But then, there was the other issue.

The really, super, ginormous issue that came in the shape of a devastatingly handsome British man she met on vacation. If she moved to London, she’d certainly be seeing him more. No clean break at the end of two weeks like she hoped.

“And, you know,” Tilde said, “London’s arts scene is stupendous. We have the hook-up. I thought you could get back into it. You can hardly do that in Las Vegas.”

Astrid snorted. “Tilde, that part of my life is over.”

“Why? You’re amazing. I remember the video you sent of your college production of Othello. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place.”

While Tilde’s appreciation for her talent warmed Astrid’s heart, it didn’t take away the sting of her mother’s actions. Astrid couldn’t even bring herself to discuss it with Tilde when it first happened, much less in the intervening eight years since the incidents that led to her total disavowal of all things acting related. Her silence on the matter, though, had finally come home to roost. First with Tilde telling Tom she was still an actor, and Tom calling her a liar because she told him she wanted nothing to do with it. And now, with Tilde staring her down imploringly. Tilde wanted answers just as much as Tom did, except for very different reasons.

Astrid could not force her suddenly leaden tongue to move in her mouth. Tilde would just have to live with not knowing the whole story, for now. Finally, she said, “If I move to London, I’m not going to be acting.”

“Well, I guess I’ll take that,” Tilde replied. “As long as you’ll still consider moving here to be with me.”

A knock at the front door startled them all, sending Duchess barking and wheezing to the door. The door opened and James popped his head inside. “Knock knock.”

“Come in!” Tilde sang back to him, jumped from her seat, and nearly leaped over the back of the couch to get to him like he was a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him squarely. For a brief, possibly irrational, moment, Astrid was jealous of her sister and the relationship she had built with James.

Which wasn’t a great feeling to have if the plan was to spend more time with them. How could she uproot her entire life— leave her students and friends— and move halfway across the globe just to be consumed by the green-eyed monster?

“Babe,” Tilde said, “tell Astrid she needs to move to London.”

James laughed and turned to look at Astrid. “Astrid… you need to move to London.”

“Thank you!” Tilde pecked his cheek and pirouetted in place until she was facing away from him. She started walking back toward the bedroom. “Let me go get my purse and we can get going.”

When Tilde was gone, and the flat was mostly silent except for more of Duchess’ puggy wheezing as she calmed, James’ smile dropped into a stony seriousness. He stepped over to her and quietly murmured, “We would love to have you here, Astrid. But I understand if you don’t want to come. The decision has to be yours, and if you decide not to move, I will handle Tilde.”

Astrid was grateful for James’ level-headedness in the situation. In the short time she’d known the man, she found that he was a gifted reader of rooms. That was why he was so good with Tilde— a steady anchor in a turbulent sea. Clearly, he understood the anxiety twisting her stomach into knots.

She set a grateful hand on his arm and squeezed appreciatively. “Thanks, James.”

“And don’t let my association with Tom cloud your judgement,” James said.

Astrid withdrew her hand like he’d burned it. Her eyes snapped up to his, then focused outward on the rest of his features and body language. She didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Tom must have told James, despite that she asked him not to.

Unless Tom had told James last night…

“How do you...” She trailed off, turning her gaze and trying to hide her blush.

“He’s my best man for a reason. We tell each other everything,” James replied. “I had hoped that your work today would allow you some time to figure things out before more of this wedding commenced and caused a problem.”

Astrid gulped. “Does Tilde know?”

James shook his head silently.

“Good,” Astrid replied. Good for two reasons, really. The first, because it confirmed for her that the invitation to come to London wasn’t Tilde playing matchmaker. The second, because she still didn’t want anybody to know about it. “Wait… how much did he tell you?”

James stared back at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a slight curl at the corner of his mouth. “That would be breaking the Code.”

Her face now completely aflame, Astrid bent down and grabbed Duchess into her arms. She couldn’t even look at the man anymore without feeling embarrassed. Hopefully, it would pass quickly.

“Bad news!” Tilde called from the hallway as she came back into the room. Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen of her iPhone. “Mother decided we needed an all hands on deck dinner tonight.”

Astrid groaned. “In addition to or replacing the one tomorrow night at Cliveden?”

“In addition to,” Tilde said. “Tom can’t make it tonight because he has the cast party, and Dad isn’t even in England yet, so that’ll be the official one. Tonight is probably just more nitpicking.”

“Do we have to?” Astrid whined.

Tilde sighed heavily and dropped her phone into her purse with agitation. “Strength in numbers, dear sister.”

Her sister's proclamation made the summons to dinner no better, but Astrid and James dutifully followed Tilde out of the flat and out to the car. The only saving grace was that Tom wouldn't be there. Astrid could focus on one problem, not two.

[atinycupofpositivitea]

This is such a great page. Thank you for sharing so much of positivity here ✨

If you don't me asking, how do you separate all the what if thoughts and other thoughts/images they bring from reality?

Since I have health anxiety, I tend to get anxious over health conditions (both physical and mental) and just worry over having any of them now or in the past or in the future. My therapist says its just the illusion that's scaring me and that I don't have the actual condition. But my anxiety makes me question it. "What if its something more? Something else? What if its that xyz illness?"

Its like somewhere inside that I'm okay bcs I can do every activity without any problem except the overthinking problem. I know its nothing but I can't believe that I actually have nothing to worry about.

Its like the mind can't fathom the idea of being "okay" so it goes...."okay that was solved but then....what if xyz?" And "what if these thoughts are not just anxiety but some other problem?"

Sorry if this doesn't make sense :(

Hey Anon, thank you so much for your words. It makes me really happy that you enjoy the blog as much as I do! 💞

No need to apologise, it's totally normal that our mental struggles feel difficult to explain to other people, mostly because they are hard for us to understand in the first place.

Before I go ahead and answer your question, I just want to hightlight the fact that what I am going to say is 100% personal thoughts and I am not a qualified mental health professional. A trained therapist is going to give you much more insight that me, a humble blogger, will ever do. (I still will try my best to help you! 🧡)

I personally separate my intrusive thoughts (the "what if" anxious thoughts you mentioned) from all the other thoughts in my head by writing them down as a list of thoughts in quote form. After I write down five, ten or fifteen of them (I try to empty my mind completely, so that every single thought is laying on paper in front of me), I look at the anxious thoughts and try to:

1. rate their real chances of happening. 2. challenge them through reality checks.

The thoughts that arise from anxiety, that make me feel unsafe and in danger, have usually a chance of happening of 1-10%.

Example: "What if I go get groceries but I don't have any change on me and the cashier gets angry?" Well, the chances of that happening to me, or anybody else, are around 5%. It never happened to me before, and even if it happens it's going to be even more rare that the cashier actually gets angry at me. This is my mind trying to protect me but I'm not in a situation of danger and there is no reason to not feel safe. Everything is going to be fine and I need to help my mind accept it.

I feel that this personally works for me BUT it takes a lot of mental effort to separate what we rationally know from what our mind wants us to believe, because of our mental issues. It's like a fire alarm that goes off at random times, it can and will be confusing and scary if you don't know what to do about it. As soon as you can reality check the mental emergency, it will start to get better.

Just remember: most of the time this is an old way of your brain to protect you. You might have experienced real danger in the past (abuse, traumatic events, accidents) and your mind is really just trying to comply to your basic instincts, aka surviving. These thoughts are no longer helpful if you are not in a situation of real danger (this is true in my case).

I match this coping technique with relaxation (guided meditations, yoga, soothing activities) and repeat this as much as needed. It does get better and your mind will give you a break. The human body and mind are not designed to keep you in an anxious state for long periods of time, so don't lose hope and work through it.

You have my complete empathy, Anon. This is hard and your struggles are valid. If I may suggest, try to talk about effective strategies to cope with anxiety and negative thoughts with your therapist. I will be here if you need a place to write down your thoughts and get some supportive words.

Lots of love! 💗

[firecooking]

CONTINUATION ON MY PREVIOUS CALL OUT POST

I didn't want to go here AGAIN, but engines-and-gin [new username and I have them blocked so I can’t fully tag them] is making posts about the situation

They've been harassing me and others for *months*, this whole situation started in early to mid 2020.

It started with this person following me and several others [@merciresolution included] and when we investigated there blog initially [as one does when followed by someone you don’t know, you take a few glaces at there blog], we found it full of spam about Thomas characters being age changed as infants and this person obsessing over them to a very high degree, including reblogs of posts that where not clear if they where from age play or agre sources [and this whole situation was taxing on me enough to begin with to do any further digging], there where also untagged posts with nsfw and major triggers [blood, needles, violent situations]. We talked to them about agre and asked them to a.) Keep it out of the main tags due to it being super sensitive and triggering to many people, an b.) To please stop refollowing people to spam there accounts with notifications, we THOUGHT the situation ended there but the person started posting on the main tag after a few weeks on a new blog, and with that they started spamming asking others to do agre role play with them while claiming they needed it for mental health reasons [they’ve claimed they have depression, severe enough they are in fear of hurting themself, but that they also refuse to talk to a mental health professional for it for various reasons]

After these events, and several attempts at reaching out to them through different channels, asking them to stop spamming other, they took a break for a few months. However, these behaviors started up again in last 2020 early 2021.

They once again started following, unfollowing, and refollowing me on my main account [this one] and @\logging-locos  every day for almost a month while I sent them several asks for them to PLEASE stop doing so, before they deleted the account in question and started up again with *another* blog, at this point I blocked them for the second time [the first time being on the first account earlier in the year]

In the interim between early 2021 and this latest, they made several new accounts, I repeatedly blocked after realizing it was the same person *over and over*

Are latest follwing was a final straw for me. Opening this persons blog and seeing Agre, untagged nsfw, and many untagged common triggers is finally taking enough of a toll on me that I cannot handle it anymore. 

Seeing them and there content is constantly putting me into bad spells of intrusive thoughts, and seeing agre not only is affecting my mental health with intrusive thoughts but ‘Age Regression’ is often a technical term used in courts or by law firms that is used against autistic adults and teenagers. Being Autistic and Neurodivergent in other ways I’ve seen ‘mental age’ and ‘age regression’ both used in the context of abusing autistic and other neurodivergent peoples. Forcing them into situations where they lose there rights as adults. It happens more than you think, and age regression and mental age are both terms that are touted by anti autistic organizations as ways to de power autistic’s and spread misinformation. Any information I’ve found about Agre as a form of therapy is either from unsourced materials on tumblr and other blogging platforms, or very specific mental health practices that I have not found to be a general consensus. As far as I’m concerned, the content I’m seeing from this blog is not a major therapeutic practice, I cannot find any research papers on the concepts, and the blurry line between Agre and Age play is very large and not one I have the mental capacity to deal with

I have a backlog of information screenshots of interactions with this person and I’m willing to share them, but I’m really exsaughted right now

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REPORT AND/OR BLOCK THE USER ENGINES-AND-GIN, BUT ALSO PLEASE STOP INTERACTING WITH THEM AND PLEASE DO NOT GO AN ANTAGONIZE OR HARASS THEM

At the end of the day, I really REALLY hope that they are just a misguided person who is dealing with some mental health issues, and just needs help, harrassing them will never help them. I may want them to stop harrassing me and others, but I’d never wish for them to get harassed in return. If we could all just leave eachother alone that’d be the ideal solution

ALOS Under the read more is some misc evidence of NSFW on there account which they CLAIMED they never posted which is STILL ON THERE BLOG UNTAGGED they’ve also [VERIFIED BY A MOD] reblogged posts from @nsfw-ttteconfessions

There are more posts than this but I’m getting sick about it and digging is making me and others uncomfortable