#i wrote it last ?august? and then began having feelings for it again

[dreamescapeswriting]

Side Effects ~ BC

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

GENRE: established relationships, hanahaki disease, Unrequited Love, non idol au, chan being the one with hanahaki

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

"Chan, you're spacing out again." Felix laughs as he notices his friend spacing out in the middle of class. Something he'd been doing a lot lately as well which hadn't gone unnoticed by you and all of his other friends but none of you could get a simple answer out of him.

Chan would do his usual task of telling you everything was fine, that it was just the stress of classes piling up on top of him but it seemed like so much more than that and it worried you that he didn't come to you about it.

"Sorry," He laughed nervously before turning his attention back to the professor, talking about Hanahaki disease and how often it tended to affect people but it was everything Chan already knew and was experiencing himself. 

It was something that was happening a lot lately in the news, a lot of people were experiencing unrequited love and a lot of people were dying or doing experimental drugs to try and rid themselves of the disease but in the end, nothing would work. Most cases end in death or if they were lucky a prison sentence for taking uncontrolled substances.

"Professor, I heard there were new surgeries for people," A girl at the front of the class called out and Chan's ears picked up, it was something he'd been looking into lately and he wanted to know if it was true. Glancing over at the professor Chan could see he seemed unsure of how to approach the subject matter and he took off his glasses and began rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"In very rare cases the surgeries do work," He explained, looking out at everyone before walking to the center of the room. 

For months now Chan had been putting off the fact that he was suffering alone through it. Ignoring it and praying it would go away all on its own but as the months went by it was getting harder to hide from you and his friends.

When the first petal had come from his throat he thought if he ignored it long enough the whole thing would go away on its own but it was becoming blatantly apparent that wasn't going to happen. Whenever he was around you the petals only came out faster so he did everything he could to limit his time around you.

"What surgery is it?" Chan called out and you glanced over at him, you'd never seen him so interested in this class before but you said nothing, letting him ask whatever he wanted as you watched him. 

You'd noticed how withdrawn he'd been lately and it was starting to get to you a little bit. It had started last month, he'd stopped wanting to hang out with you...alone at least. If the others were there he didn't seem to mind that much but he put major distance between the two of you. 

The two of you used to be inseparable, you'd spend every waking moment together but he'd stopped. You figured he'd just gotten busy with finals but it seemed like something deeper than that. He stopped speaking to you, moving to sit beside his friends rather than sitting beside you.

"Chan," You whispered, as he started writing down notes. Your eyes scanned over the chicken scratches on his page but you couldn't understand any of it. Felix glanced at you sadly and you looked down at your notebook, wondering what you could have done to make Chan hate you so much he couldn't even look at you anymore. 

"It's still experimental but the flowers are surgically removed...along with the victim's feelings of love, meaning that you'll no longer love that person anymore." The class sighed as he listed the side effects of the surgery but Chan just wrote and wrote, scribbling anything the professor was saying back to him, only stopping when the next words came from his lips.

"Sometimes, it will also remove all memories of the former beloved...leaving the victim to never love again," The room turned silent and people stared at the professor with saddening expressions, no one dared to speak. The risk of never being able to love again lingered in the air as you felt your heart breaking.

"Why would anyone do that?" You whisper, mostly to yourself rather than anyone else but Chan heard you and it seemed to irritate him as he gripped his pen so tight you were almost worried it was going to burst.

"Some people can't stand the thought of never being loved by the one person they hold dear." Chan finally grumbled in your direction, wasting no time in gathering his stuff and rushing out of the room seconds before the bell even ran to dismiss you all. 

"What was that about?" You mumble to Felix who flicked you a shrug and you frown staring down at the table where Chan had just been sitting to see a drop of blood there. Chan was prone to nosebleeds but you were almost sure you hadn't seen any when he stared at you.

Weeks continued to pass by and Chan only became more and more withdrawn from you and everything that involved you. He stopped coming to the weekly study sessions you did with all of your friends and he stopped replying to your texts. You were starting to freak out and you'd enlisted Felix - Chan's roommate - to help you figure out what was going on. Felix shot you one last look and you urged him to go to the door once again, 

It was supposed to be movie night and you'd hoped Chan would come out of his room to join you but he hadn't. So you'd practically shoved Felix toward the door to get him to come out or at least give you answers. He'd made no promises to get to the bottom of everything but told you that he'd do the best he could which was what had led him to waking up Chan by pounding on his door.

"Lix, I'm tired. What is it?" Chan grumbled looking at his friend who had just woken him up, it wasn't even late. It was barely three in the afternoon which only worried Felix more. It wasn't like Chan to sleep like this, if at all. Everyone knew how much he struggled sleeping so to find him asleep in the middle of the day seemed so much worse.

"What's going on with you? You're pushing all of us away." Lix shoved his way into Chan's dorm room, looking around for any sign that he was hiding something but everything was as it usually was. The laptop was open on his desk, working hard as he forced himself to do, but there was something on the screen.

Searching for a hospital that cured Hanahki's disease, along with success rates, Felix stepped closer to get a better look but Chan quickly stepped in front of him and shut the laptop screen down.

"I'm just sick and tired," Chan growls at him, coughing into his hands and freezing in place as he feels his breathing becoming harder and harder to draw in. Felix's eyes wandered to his friend's hands and he saw the blood before anything else,

"Chris-" The words were cut off as Chan dropped to the floor, his lungs so tight he couldn't bring any new air, his gasps coming out frantically.

"YN! CALL AN AMBUALANCE!" Felix screams into the other room, moving Chan onto his side and doing his best to open his airway a little more, to give his friend a little time. Rushing into the room you stared down at your friend who was gasping and struggling to breathe.

"Hang on, Chan. We've got you, I promise we've got you!" You promised as you frantically called for an ambulance.

It had taken everything inside of you not to go with him in the ambulance but Felix had told you to come later, to pack everything Chan was going to need and meet them at the hospital so that's what you were doing. Raiding through his drawers in search of some underwear, you ragged open the next one only to find hundreds and hundreds of bloodied petals lying there.

"W-What the fuck?" You whispered as you pulled them up, it was clear how long Chan had been struggling with this by the sheer amount of petals that were sitting here. Your heart began to race as you rushed to his laptop, pushing it open and looking through his search history. All of it is coinciding with someone looking for a way to rid themselves of the disease,

"Chan, no." You grumbled, moving to go through the drawers until you found exactly what you were looking for. The bottle of pills that were sold as a "quick fix" was the one thing that wasn't a fix at all. It was a glorified painkiller that people claimed fixed them, but it only numbed them to the pain of the growing of the plant inside of them.

"Mr Bang, I can't stress this enough, the side effects-"

"I know," Chan cut the doctor off as he signed the final waiver that he was having to sign in order for them to remove the damn flowers from him. Doing anything so he could breathe again without the pain of unrequited love weighing down on him.

"Have you tried discussing your feelings with the person who you hold them for?" The doctor asked. It was all any of them had asked him since he was able to breathe on his own again and it was starting to get to him.

"She won't love me back. I-I won't put that stress on our friendship," Chan mumbled a little as he took in a deep breath, there was no way he was going to risk ruining things between you because of some stupid flower inside of his lungs.

"There's a chance you won't even remember her...That you'll never be able to love anybody ever again," The doctor explained right as you got to the door, panting and sweating heavily as you stared at them both,

"You didn't go in yet?" Your voice cracked as you rushed to the side of the bed, looking at Chan who shook his head. The doctor walked away, sensing the need to give you both some space and you tried to catch your breath as Chan stared at you,

"Yn, what are you doing-"

"I love you." You cut him off, staring at him as you confessed your own feelings for him. The sight of his petals back in the dorm room killed you inside as you realised he'd been hiding everything you'd been hiding along with him.

"Yn." He grumbled, not wanting to hear you lie just to save his life but you grabbed his hand, placing it over his chest and letting him feel your heart racing for him. 

"No, listen to me, Christopher. You've been ignoring me long enough and I swear if you do anymore I'm going to go insane." You rush the words out and he looks at you, 

"This isn't a quick fix, I love you...T-This isn't...This isn't something you can lie to fix me through," He cried, tears running down his cheek as you slowly reached out and wiped away the tears. The sight of him crying tearing you apart,

"It's not a lie, Channie." Your voice was softer this time as you reached into your bag, bringing out your own petals and showing him the blood-soaked petals that were staining your hands,

"But-"

"I never said anything because I didn't want to ruin our friendship." You admit as you slowly sit on the side of the bed, your breathing becoming slightly easier as you sit beside him.

"How could you stand being around me?" He frowned, it had been so hard for him to even be near you whenever he felt his feelings inside of him.

"I wanted to spend as much time as I could with you, until...U-Until the flowers did their job," You admitted before Chan brought you into a deep kiss.

As soon as your lips touched everything outside of you both ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, Chan's arms moving to bring you closer to him as your lips brushed against each other in a tender and hesitant kiss.

A shiver ran down your spine as you whimpered a little, carefully sitting on his lap and kissing him deeper than before, your hands cupping his face as you finally gave into the feelings you'd had for months.

"I bought-" Felix stops himself as he sees the two of you, smirking to himself as you sheepishly pull back and stare over at him and pout at being interrupted.

"I'll go and cancel the surgery," Is all Felix says before sneaking off and making you giggle a little, looking down at Chan who was already staring at you with sparkles in his eyes.

"You're not going anywhere anytime soon, I hope you know that," He whispers before kissing you deeply once again.

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[angie-words]

Second part of details from the Am I Broken: Survivor Stories episode titled Claire "I ignored It and I Believed Him Because He's A Storyteller [Neil Gaiman]". Part 1 here

Again, a reminder that I really, really urge you to listen to the episode if you feel able, found on Apple and Spotify.

EDIT (1st August 2024): two further women have made allegations

CW: details of sexual coercion, gaslighting, power dynamic imbalance, sexual assault, trauma, ptsd, sexual predator behaviour, grooming, abuse of power, discussion of rape culture, victim-blaming

Claire says she is glad the fandom is doing the work to believe victims, but she also understands those "burying their head in the sand" because that's what she tried to do

DeBoer asks what else has helped Claire, besides learning new vocabulary to help her frame her experiences (e.g. grooming, sexual coercion). She says that listening to her body's physical responses, including the trauma dreams, has helped

She began telling friends and she said this helped a lot as they validated what she was feeling rather than believing Gaiman's narrative

Claire says that writing has also helped her process, including writing letters she never sent. She wrote blog and reddit posts, but didn't publish any of them because she didn't know how to come forward with her story

DeBoer thanks her for finding the ability to come forward and asks her what allowed her to feel this was possible now. Claire says that talking with a friend allowed her to develop a certainty, especially when she starts advocating for herself and other people

Claire says that she had been in denial because she was trying to protect herself from the knowledge that someone she trusted and adored had violated her trust

She expresses a deep sadness about how her memories and love of Gaiman's work have been tainted by what he has done to her. She describes that loss of "such magic and beauty" as being deeply sad

The last time she spoke to Gaiman was 2022, which it now turns out was the same year he got Scarlett to sign an NDA.

Claire reiterates how he is seen as a god, deified by the fandom

During one call, he said "I don't know what I see in you - I'm an award-winning author and you are-" and he didn't finish the sentence but she says he didn't need to as the meaning was clear. She describes herself as one of many fans willing to do almost anything for him

Claire says she and others worshipped him. She says consent wasn't impossible, but she was operating from a hero worship complex, fueling a fawn response

DeBoer states that fans are incapable of true consent - what they see is a projection, they are worshipping someone who isn't real, and so they are incapable of being in a real relationship with that hero

Claire agrees it was his responsibility to open the discussion about power dynamics and adhere to it. She said he didn't check in or respect boundaries; she says that wasn't because of autism or something else - she doesn't know why he felt he was owed her body/consent. DeBoer agrees the responsibility was Gaiman's

Claire says that ongoing consent discussions are needed; DeBoer agrees that such things also need to start slowly, and they both discuss how fast Gaiman moved things between him and Claire

Reflecting on how these experiences have affected her in light of the allegations, she can see now she experienced trauma responses to things that reminded her of him. She had to distance herself from friends who still loved Gaiman; she found she couldn't even enjoy reading. She even stopped going into book stores.

Claire almost stopped volunteering at the rape crisis centre. She wasn't sure how she could advocate for anyone else when she hadn't been able to do so for herself. Her manager validated her feelings and said that if everyone who'd had their boundaries violated left, they'd have no one left. It's implied this gave her a new perspective and moved her away from some victim-blaming of herself

She still experiences feelings of doubt and a lack of self-worth in comparison to who Neil Gaiman is, what he's done. However, Claire is trying to move past this mindset, the voice of him in her head

DeBoer encourages her by reminding her that she matters, that she has a voice. They thank her for her bravery and courage

Claire hopes people come away with believing how our bodies respond to trauma - "listen to all of it, not just what people around you are saying"

Claire says she is not broken: she is sad for the child who lost her hero. At this point, Claire becomes a little overwhelmed. She states he influenced how she thought about the assaults

DeBoer ends by talking about how sexual abuse is about both sex and power, not just power as some have stated, otherwise this would be a different type of abuse. They say that there are many indicators of Gaiman having power (money, fame, social capital, age, maturity, gender, eloquence and mythopoesis)

DeBoer says the person with the power has the greater responsibility for shaping the boundaries of the relationship

They say that Claire's healing has come through being able to tell her story, finding the power within herself. DeBoer details an exercise called "safety bubble" that can assist with this (I'd recommend going to about 1:09:00 into the podcast if you want to learn more)

DeBoer reiterates listening to our bodies and how they respond to trauma - it can be difficult to interpret what the sensations we feel are, but it can allow us to reclaim our stories

They define rape culture and how it is insidious, blaming victims, then sharing original notes DeBoer sent when Claire first contacted them. They say Gaiman was testing and pushing boundaries, that this was predatory behaviour; they also said at the time that there was a high likelihood Claire was not the only person Gaiman had done this to

They end with mentioning where to find more information about restorative justice steps someone can take if they have hurt another person

I think that's all folks. It's been extremely difficult for me, as someone who's experienced sexual assault and also this kind of gaslighting thanks to rape culture mentalities. I hope this has been useful for some folks. Please look after yourselves❤️

[literaryvein-reblogs]

1912 Diary Entries: Franz Kafka

31 January. Wrote nothing.

25 February. Hold fast to the diary from today on! Write regularly! Don’t surrender! Even if no salvation should come, I want to be worthy of it at every moment.

26 February. Better consciousness of myself.

8 March. Day before yesterday was blamed because of the factory. Then for an hour on the sofa thought about jumping-out-of-the-window.

11 March. Yesterday unendurable.

16 March. Rather be sleepless than live on in this way.

17 March. Today, painfully tired, spent the afternoon on the sofa.

18 March. I was wise, if you like, because I was prepared for death at any moment, but not because I had taken care of everything that was given to me to do, rather because I had done none of it and could not even hope ever to do any of it.

22 March. (The last few days I have been writing down the wrong dates.)

29 March. Delighted with the bathroom. Gradual understanding. The afternoons I spent on my hair.

1 April. For the first time in a week an almost complete failure in writing. Why? Last week too I lived through various moods and kept their influence away from my writing; but I am afraid to write about it.

8 April. Saturday before Easter. Complete knowledge of oneself.

6 May. 11 o’clock. For the first time in a considerable while a complete failure in writing. The feeling of a tried man.

22 May. Yesterday a wonderfully beautiful evening with Max. If I love myself, I love him more.

25 May. Weak tempo, little blood.

1 June. Wrote nothing.

2 June. Wrote almost nothing.

6 June. Without weight, without bones, without body, walked through the streets for two hours considering what I overcame this afternoon while writing.

7 June. Bad. Wrote nothing today. Tomorrow no time.

6 July. Monday. Began a little. Am a little sleepy. Also lost among these entirely strange people.

9 July. Nothing written for so long. Begin tomorrow. Otherwise I shall again get into a prolonged, irresistible dissatisfaction; I am really in it already. The nervous states are beginning. But if I can do something, then I can do it without superstitious precautions.

7 August. Long torment.

8 August. Completed ‘Confidence Trickster’ more or less satisfactorily. With the last strength of a normal state of mind.

9 August. The upset night.

10 August. Wrote nothing.

11 August. Nothing, nothing.

15 August. Wasted day. Spent sleeping and lying down.

16 August. Nothing, either in the office or at home.

30 August. All this time did nothing.

25 September. By force kept myself from writing.

Excerpts from "The diaries of Franz Kafka 1910-1923"

[wrathofresistantx]

Bastian Bosse’s LiveJournal Activity (Part One)

On September 2nd, 2004, Bastian Bosse created his LiveJournal account. He posted to this account between September 2004 and August 2005, with his first entry being on September 2nd, 2004, and his last being on August 15th, 2005.

He posted his first entry on September 2nd, writing:

“So first, I have to try out how this works ...”

His entries during this time were about his airsoft guns and problems he was having at school, with him writing on September 8th:

“Well first of all, I got to class late, and they wrote me up. That’s especially good, when it happens on the first class with a new teacher! Well, it was only Religion ... the subject where they tell you such garbage that you like to go to class because it is so funny ... Our new topic: (for the third time) “Satanism / Occultism.” Oh man!

Then I rushed home after school and had to find out that my mom snooped around my stuff again a little ... Well, maybe they are just worried ...”

On March 7th 2005, he began posting again on his LiveJournal account, which he hadn’t posted to since September 15th, 2004. His post on this day mentioned being teased by his classmates, as he wrote:

“Other than that, really nothing spectacular happened during the week. I had to listen to the usual crap, like “Hey look! There is the Matrix-Man!” Looooooool, nitwits!”

On April 3rd, he wrote about ordering an MP5-SD6 airsoft machine gun online and not receiving the money on time:

“Then I ordered an MP5-SD6 AEG during break and told them that I would transfer the money on April 2nd . .. and what’s happening? The guy who is supposed to buy my old G36c is not coming, and now I don’t have the money .. . great!”

On May 15th, he wrote two entries, with one talking about his attitude to life:

“The longer I think about life, the more I realize how senseless it actually is ... Somebody is born, has a good life for 6 years, but then gets enrolled in school. Then unconsciously, he has to make a decision; do I stay the way I am or do I conform to the others? To be more precise, do I remain strong or do I become my own traitor?”

And the other mentioned a girl called Nadine:

“There is no progress with Nadine . . . I blame this sick HipHop Music that all the kids listen to . . . you have to go crazy and only talk shit. I HATE EVERYTHING!!! What’s up with all that shit??? Did I come to this damn world to be the idiot next door, my whole life? What should I do here? What are all of us supposed to do here?”

He wrote on May 16th:

“I am thinking about just dropping out of school next year, so I don’t have to see their faces anymore, so I don’t have to hear their voices anymore. No idea, if I should do that . . .”

He also responded to an online friend of his that commented:

“is it really that bad at your school? mhm, yeah, I was also glad when I was allowed to leave...”

“Indirectly. The fact that I am older than those in my class makes things significantly easier, in other words, it is not like it was in my old class, in which I was humiliated. But those people are all such complete morons; either over the top clowns or blowhard potheads, who consider themselves the greatest.”

His entries throughout May discussed his growing collection of airsoft guns. However in this period he also bought a Colt pistol, which he was able to test on May 18th:

"Then I was finally able to test my Colt, was a little lame, but nice ;) Other than that, nothing happened."

On May 23rd he wrote:

“Tomorrow is the 24th, Tuesday .. . and what will happen? NOTHING!!! I hate it, I hate to always be everybody’s dimwit. I hate to always be portrayed as a dork. I hate to always be the individual who seems unnecessary, but I hate it even more when people try to betray me . .. LH !!! Who do you think you are? What do you think you can get away with? Who gives you the right to breathe my air?”

“I am done with the world, I feel outcasted by it and hope for change. But how do we define such change? Or even more important: What am I doing here?”

His entries from this point forward would become a lot longer and discussed his thoughts on life, his guns, and his views on people at his school.

[End of Part One]

I'm doing this in two parts, otherwise this post would get stupidly long and a bit boring, both for me to write and for everyone else to read.

[justforbooks]

The River of Consciousness by Oliver Sacks

These posthumously published essays range from psychiatry to plagiarism to near-death experiences

One March in the mid 1990s I checked into a hotel in Helsinki. I dropped my bag on the floor and, wondering what Finnish daytime television was like, switched on the TV. A darkened room with a dining table came into focus, and around it were six people having a conversation. To my surprise, all were speaking English, then a face I knew filled the screen – it was Oliver Sacks. Then another, Stephen Jay Gould, and another, Daniel Dennett. I had books by all three. It was snowing outside, and Helsinki seemed suddenly less inviting; I sat down on the bed and began to watch.

A Dutch TV company had assembled these men, together with Freeman Dyson, Stephen Toulmin and Rupert Sheldrake, for the round-table finale of a documentary series on science and the meaning of life. The series, A Glorious Accident, didn’t seem to have invited any women to take part but even so I watched it to the end – three hours later. The participants’ areas of expertise were diverse: biology, physics, palaeontology, neuroscience, philosophy. As the only practising clinician, Sacks made perceptive and valuable contributions – and was clearly having fun.

Sacks died nine years ago in August 30, 2015. A melanoma of the eye, diagnosed nine years earlier, had recurred and metastasised to his liver. The New York Times had referred to Sacks as the “poet laureate of medicine”, and carried an obituary that said that neurological conditions were for him occasions “for eloquent meditations on consciousness and the human condition”. In his last year he put the finishing touches to a memoir (On the Move), and completed some final magazine essays collected soon after his death (Gratitude). In one of his last newspaper pieces he wrote: “I have several other books nearly finished.” We might expect further posthumous essay collections to be on the way.

Millions of Sacks’s books have been printed around the world, and he once spoke of receiving 200 letters a week from admirers. For those thousands of correspondents, The River of Consciousness will feel like a reprieve – we get to spend time again with Sacks the botanist, the historian of science, the marine biologist and, of course, the neurologist. There are 10 essays here, the majority published previously in the New York Review of Books (the collection is dedicated to its late editor Robert Silvers). Their subject matter reflects the agility of Sacks’s enthusiasms, moving from forgetting and neglect in science to Freud’s early work on the neuroanatomy of fish; from the mental lives of plants and invertebrates to the malleability of our perception of speed.

The essay on speed has some characteristic flourishes: of Parkinson’s disease, Sacks writes that “being in a slowed state is like being stuck in a vat of peanut butter, while being in an accelerated state is like being on ice”. He is as good on near-death experiences: “There is an intense sense of immediacy and reality, and a dramatic acceleration of thought and perception and reaction.” Sacks has a Jain-like reverence for insects, and delights in comparative neuroanatomical facts: an octopus may have six times more neurons than a mouse; many plants possess nervous systems that move at a thousandth the speed of our own.

Plagiarism troubled Sacks, and an essay on memory dovetails with one on creativity, examining how someone can copy another’s work through unconscious repatternings of memory. “Memory arises not only from experience,” he concludes, “but from the intercourse of many minds.” He quotes the letters between Mark Twain and Helen Keller on plagiarism, and his own correspondence with Harold Pinter (whose play A Kind of Alaska was inspired by Sacks’s Awakenings). Most of his books are mentioned in passing, and the chosen essays stand as a kind of testament or gazetteer to their range. Reading them, I was reminded of something Annie Dillard said about the essay form: “The essay is, and has been, all over the map. There’s nothing you cannot do with it; no subject matter is forbidden, no structure is proscribed.”

Some of the slighter pieces here suffer from being placed between more substantial work, and in one, only one, Sacks’s argument loses coherence. But even then I was conscious of the great premium he placed on flights of ideas: “If the stream of thought is too fast, it may lose itself, break into a torrent of superficial distractions and tangents, dissolve into a brilliant incoherence, a phantasmagoric, almost dreamlike delirium.”

Sacks was deliriously in love with details – to the irritation of his editors – and he crammed his books with them. When the text couldn’t take any more, he spilled them over to the bottom of the page. It’s in the footnotes that his treasures are often to be found: in a two-page footnote to his essay “Scotoma: Forgetting and Neglect in Science”, Sacks outlines how urgent is the need for reconciliation between psychiatry and neurology, divided now for nearly a century. A “scotoma” is a blind spot in the vision, an area of darkness conjured by irregularities in brain or retinal function:

If one looks at the charts of patients institutionalized in asylums and state hospitals in the 1920s and 1930s, one finds extremely detailed clinical and phenomenological observations, often embedded in narratives of an almost novelistic richness and density ... this richness and detail and phenomenological openness have disappeared, and one finds instead meagre notes that give no real picture of the patient or his world.

Through the course of the 20th century, the US Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (a book conceived to facilitate health insurance billing) has, Sacks insists, impoverished clinical language. “Present-day psychiatric charts in hospitals are almost completely devoid of the depth and density of information one finds in the older charts, and will be of little use in helping us to bring about the synthesis of neuroscience with psychiatric knowledge that we so need.” Earlier in the book he singled out one of the defining moments of that schism, when in 1893 Freud gave up looking for elements of brain pathology that might be relevant to mental health: “The lesion in hysterical paralyses must be completely independent of the nervous system,” Freud wrote, “since in its paralyses and other manifestations hysteria behaves as though anatomy did not exist or as though it had no knowledge of it.”

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Augusnippets Day 7

Path of Hurt Prompt: "Choking"

Day 7 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters:

- POV/Whumpee: Pym (Cursed, Netflix)

- Whumper: Cumber's Raiders (Unnamed)

(Characters: Whumpees)

(Characters: Whumpers)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 527

TWs; lady whump, choking/restricted air, gagged, noncon, sadistic/intimate whumper, multiple whumpers, letcherous behaviours, abuse.

What rotten luck to be found by Cumber's raiders, alone in the woods. And Pym hadn't been able to scream, dragged away so quickly she hadn't even known what was happening. She'd pieced it together well enough in the last hour or so whilst feigning unconsciousness, of course. Cumber's men never really knew when to shut up.

Now though? Now they know she's awake...

Pym bares her teeth and bites the hand that tries to gag her, hard. Hands rag painfully through her knotted hair, drag her head back sharply. She refuses to open her mouth, tongue laced with the blood of the Raider she bit... The struggle and panic flares like a caged bird in her chest as he clamps that injured hand over her nose, to force her to open her mouth...

Pym tries, she really does. She glares up at the sadistic smile upon the Raider's face, angry, defiant, unbroken. Like she'd learned from her friends. She swallowed the panic mixing with bloody copper and holds her breath, refusing to bend, she cannot, will not allow them to do this. Someone will find her. Gawain, Gawain will save her.

She ignores the fact that they probably haven't even noticed she's missing yet.

Fingers pry at the corner of her mouth again, and she's held firm by the grip in her hair, still holding her breath, no, no, NO...

Her lungs are burning. Nimue was always better at holding her breath than she was. She remembers how they used to swim together in the lake near Dewdenn, though Pym was no bad swimmer herself Nimue took to the waters like a fish... A tear leaks from her eye, greif, despair; Nimue would have freed her, too.

The hands are more insistent now, that grip on her nose was so harsh it's painful, her nose even began to bleed. Pym can feel blood coating the back of her throat and she's clenching her jaw so hard her teeth are about to crack, her body buckling and crumbling. She needs to breathe, needs to open her mouth--

And finally Pym has no choice, abandoned to her body and mind's own reflex to gasp in a breath, yet the moment she does the balled up rag is shoved into her mouth before she even gets a chance to breathe, more and more fabric rammed in so far it hurts, jaw straining and aching and all the while that fucking hand never leaves her nose, she still can't breathe-- blind panic surges through her as she fights with everything she has to drag in air but theres no way to through the thick cloth, no movement of her mouth even left, just pitiful whimpers in her throat that choke off into silence.

Blackness edges her vision and still he doesn't let go. Tears of pain and panic and desperation slick her cheeks, the foul man leans in close, licking across her skin with a noise of approval like Pym's tears are the best fucking thing he's ever tasted. Pym's body spasms, eyes rolling back, every instinct to survive screaming out all at once and- -blissful nothingness takes over.

I don't write near enough Lady Whump so figured it was about time I included some here! Slight different writing style for this, more of a present tense than usual! I wrote something for the prompt "gagged" a while ago on here in response to a prompt on someone else's post and decided to rewrite it for this.

I ADORE Pym. She is my fave, and I'm definitely going to have to write those Raiders getting their asses handed to them for this...

Onto the next!

[thatastrobae]

Ｗａｉｔｉｎｇ ｔｏ Ｅｘｈａｌｅ (Beta) 🌻🪻

I wrote this fic back in September, but I refuse to post on a03 until I have ch 2 written. This might be my next multi-chapter flowerbyte fic after 'Into You' is completed

“I’ve just got so much on my mind y’know…” the sixteen year old mumbled as he carefully steered the car. From the passenger seat, Captain Jeff Morales let out an understanding hum. He peeped that Miles was a bit tense that morning so he extended a listening ear. He always wanted a chance to bond with his son more and the second Miles turned sixteen back in August, he took him to the DMV to get his permit. Driving lessons commenced as soon as the kid got the piece of plastic. They drove around every Saturday and Sunday at 7 a.m. when the streets of Brooklyn 1610B were quiet and empty and neither Jeff or Miles had to put on their uniform/mask to protect the city.  At this specific time, they could simply be Miles and Jeff: father and son. Not Spiderman and Captain Morales. Neither Jeff or Rio were shocked to discover Miles’ secret identity, in fact, it was a missing piece to the intricate puzzle that was their son. They had many discussions regarding their meta human child and ultimately decided two things: Number one being that they’ll continue to love and support him through his dangerous job and number two was that they’ll do everything in their power to keep him grounded (not that kind of grounded). Rio, being the fiercely protective mother she was, would be damned if Miles’ responsibilities as Spiderman stripped him of every ounce of normalcy in his life, so Jeff thought of this because what’s more conventional than a father teaching his son an important life skill such as driving? 

“I hear that, yeah. So tell me what’s going on?” Jeff urged calmly.

“It’s just like…homework, girls…well one girl.” He looked to Miles and smirked. 

‘A girl huh?’  Jeff thought, but then he felt a sense of dêja vu wash over him when he saw a blush coloring the top of Miles’ ears. He remembered having this same conversation over a year ago; back when Miles was falling behind in school and he couldn’t figure out why, back when the then fifteen year old was battling some inner demons and hiding a whole other part of his life from them. It was crazy how so much could change in a year. 

“Another girl, son? I remember the one from last year.” The police chief joked. Miles’ jaw tightened and his Adam’s apple bobbed at the mention. Upon seeing this, Jeff masked his laughter with coughs. It may come off as insensitive, but he knew straight off the back things weren’t gonna last with the previous girl. Jeff knew all too well that at Miles’ age, romantic feelings for someone are strong but fleeting. Him being Spiderman didn’t except from this rule. Obviously ‘Gwanda’ was still a touchy subject. He wasn’t sure if Miles still kept in touch with the girl- last time he saw her was that catastrophic day after he got sworn in as captain. While Jeff wasn’t a fan of the emo? Alt? whatever; Miles seemed to care a lot about her and he felt bad that his son’s first love broke his heart- even though Miles has yet to tell him how. But that was in the past and the only way to help the boy heal was by bringing him to the present and instilling hope for a better future so Jeff opened the conversation again.

“Anyway, this new girl…what’s her name?” 

Miles hesitated at first, the way someone with conflicting thoughts would hesitate. Truth be told, Miles was feeling conflicted, it was just recently that he decided to acknowledge his not-so platonic feelings for the fellow spider person. 

“Margo.” he said, his ears still a deep shade of red.

It’s almost as if she was a genie because every time he says her name out loud, she makes an appearance. As soon as Miles got home from his driving lesson, he began to pack his bag for the week ahead. He shook the habit of waiting til last minute a while ago. It was only a thirty minute task and he was able to spend the rest of his Sunday’s not worrying about. As he gathered his clean laundry and art supplies, the topic of discussion from his earlier talk with Jeff began to materialize from a collection of pixels. The way her avatar was dressed- in a Minecraft midriff t-shirt and cargo pants-indicated that her physical self was dressed in the same attire. The intricate bubble braids on the other hand was most likely CC, still she looked cute as always. Miles smirked at his blue and purple friend.

“Y’know, one of these days you might end up catching me butt ass naked.” he joked.

“With the amount of times I pop up unannounced, I’m surprised that day hasn’t come already. It’s all good though, I’m very patient .” she gave Miles a smirk of her own as she sat knees-crossed on his chair. Upon seeing the pile of clean clothes on his bed, Margo rolled herself closer.

“Mind if I help?” 

Miles gave her a grateful smile and nodded. He hated folding clothes with a passion. Not only was it tedious, but he was never good at it, unlike Margo who folded his white Oxford shirts with precision and ease. 

“So…did you get it?” Margo asked cryptically. He knew what she meant by ‘it’ but the way she whispered her sentence made it sound like he was to obtain a bag of drugs or something so he decided to mess with her. 

“Hmmm..get what?” was his clueless response as he sloppily folded a pair of slacks. When placing them down, he lifted his gaze towards Margo and almost busted out laughing at her narrowed eyes and pursed blue lips. She snatched up the khakis and refolded them.

“The Gotham Nights Deluxe Edition game. Y’know the one I cashapp'd you forty-five dollars for? Ring a bell?”

“Oh you mean this?” He asked reaching into his nightstand and pulling out the mint condition, unwrapped video game case. The gapped tooth grin that always warmed Miles from the inside-out split across her face. 

“Also, I keep tryna send that forty-five back. You really didn’t need to go half with me, I was gonna buy it anyway.”

Even if he wasn’t gonna purchase the game anyway, he probably still would have gotten it for her to enjoy. One of her many favorite things to do in his dimension was play video games with him and Ganke on their shared PS5. Miles thought it adorable and began to chuckle, earning a playfully suspicious glance from her.

“What’s funny?” 

“It’s just that…you come from this super advanced dimension where you have access to a whole entire virtual world…”

“Mhmm..” she urged him to continue, picking up a polo and folding that as well.

“…but you’re geeked about a mundane video game. And not only that, do you not realize that you’re playing a video game through the lens of another video game?”

“That last part is where you’re wrong, Miles.” she said breezily. He raised his an eyebrow, interested in what she would say to correct his perception. 

“Yeah?”

“The VR in my dimension is a whole nother type beat. By putting on our headset, it’s more like we’re…extending our realities. People earn their living, build their craft, fall in love, etc. via virtual reality.”  Even when she was correcting him and being informative, Margo was mellow and soft-spoken. He found himself never missing a word she uttered because as soon as she began speaking, his attention was like a moth to her flame. No one else (especially by voice alone), could put him in a trance like this. 

“Take me being Spider Woman for example. I wish that I had the option to just turn off my system and turn it back on again if I ever screw up, but I can’t. I mean don’t get me wrong, I can’t really die while in avatar form which is pretty sweet. Still though, the safety of my cyberspace depends on Spiderbyte. You feel me?” 

“No…yeah…I feel you. What I said before sounds really dumb now that I think about.” he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, a habit of his that Margo clocked when they first started hanging out. Normally she’d tell him to stop being so self deprecating, but she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her.

“Not at all. Even I have trouble wrapping my head around our way of life. It’s definitely not a grounding experience and sometimes I’m scared that…” Margo trailed off. She’d never shared this deep, irrational fear with with anyone, but Miles was intrigued so he used his foot to nudge her into finishing the thought.

“I’m scared that one day we won’t even have the option to go outside and experience real life. Movie theaters and arcades aren’t a thing anymore, game stores will probably be next to go. Our basic needs can be met without even leaving the house and everyone seems ok with that…?” she looked down at her blue, holographic hands.

“I guess I feel like a weirdo for finding an issue with our remote way of living.”

“Nah, I bet there are tons of people in your dimension who feel the same way. Still though, I know how depressing it is to feel so disconnected from everyone so if you ever wanna talk more about it without being judged, I’m always here to listen.” 

The grin returned to Margo’s face and Miles’ gave himself a pat on the back for being the one to put it there. Margo’s voice was timid, but tender as she uttered her next sentence 

“Being able to come and see you is probably the best thing to come from this technology takeover.”  

Her words caused his brain to short circuit. This isn’t anything new though. Margo would often say little things that had him blushing and kicking his feet- internally of course.  They’d gotten close over the past nine months and it all started one random Tuesday evening as Miles attempted to complete an essay. 

There was a sharp rap on his dormitory door, briefly drawing his attention from his laptop. 

“It’s open!” Miles hollered out, not wanting to break focus on the paper due tomorrow afternoon. A few seconds of silence passed and he assumed whoever it was didn’t need anything for real. Then there was another hesitant knock. Miles let out a sigh of frustration before getting up and aggressively opening the door. The breath was immediately knocked out of him for two reasons. Reason number one being that Spiderbyte (who resided in whole other dimension) was one of the last people he expected to pop up out of the blue and speaking of ‘blue’, she wasn’t. She wasn’t glowing or pixilated either, in fact she blended in as a Visions student in this dimension so seamlessly. Dressed in a navy blue sweatshirt with the school’s name across the chest, leggings, and some sneakers — she looked like a classmate visiting another classmate to ask for some Ramen. So instead of pulling her into the privacy of his room as he probably would if she was in her spider suit, he just stared- astounded. 

“Hey.” Margo said casually- too casually if you asked him. She peered behind him into his shared dorm room. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Miles quickly gathered himself and moved to the side, allowing her to enter before closing his door. 

“N-nah…it’s just…you’re actually here right now. In the flesh.”

With his essay almost forgotten, Miles couldn’t take his eyes off of her deep chestnut complexion and neatly plaited hair.  Perplexity flashed across her face before realization took over. 

“Oh no no. I made sure to turn my graphics card up before projecting myself here. I’m still very much…

Margo glitched and a pixelated bubble appeared in thin air in front of him, revealing the teen girl with her VR headset firmly placed on her head, dressed in the same attire as her avatar.

“At home, chilling in my gaming chair and eating Fritos.”

He saw her actual person pop a crunchy corn chip in her mouth before the projection disappeared, allowing her avatar to stand before him once again. A slight smile appeared on Miles’ face, for the similarities between their first meeting and now wasn’t missed upon him. Only difference was that her parent’s weren’t screaming at each other in the background. 

“Oh. It’s just that you look so…” stunning was what the word that instantly came to Miles’ head, but he refused to go down that road. Instead he finished his sentence with “…natural.” An odd save, but a save nonetheless. 

“You’re dimension has Visons Academy too? And you go there?” He asked oh so intelligently. Miles didn’t know why he went with that when there were way more important questions to ask such as why she was here? How was she?  Did they blow anther hole in the multiverse?

“Yes, but it’s nothing like this.” Margo responded, gesturing to his entire room “Once upon time, there were dorms and in-person classes. Now everything is-

“Online.” He finished for her. While Miles would love to attend school virtually, he refrained from voicing his sentiment. Something about the way Margo looked longingly at his and Ganke’s decorations made him feel like she would trade places with him in a heart beat. After a minute, Margo collected herself and focused solely and the boy she came to visit.

“Yeah. But it seems like your style and your roommate’s style don’t clash which is good.”

Now that they got the ‘how’ out of the way, Miles was trying to gather some words together to politely ask ‘why’ she was here- in his dimension- in his dorm. As if she read his mind, Margo chuckled and casted him a look of understanding. 

“I was a little bit hesitant to come, but I really wanted to see how you were.” 

“Are you sure that’s all?” He didn’t mean to sound so wary, but the last time a girl from an alternate universe ‘stopped by to say hey’ she was also on a top secret mission to capture a mephistophelian villain who got more powerful as time progressed. If something similar was happening here, he didn’t wanna waste any precious time. Miles eyed his spider suit hanging from his top drawer, preparing to gear up if need be.

“Aye chill, we not gettin’ active tonight.” she assured placing her hand on his shoulder to refocus his attention on her “It’s just that…it’s been three months since any of us last heard from you. Hobie said to give you your space...so we did. I guess I just came to relay the message that we’re thinking about you and whenever you’re ready, you can put your watch to good use.” 

“All of you still keep in touch.” it wasn’t a question.

“Well it’s not like we host group meetings every week, but I tend check in on Hobie, Pav, or Peni often. Maybe they pop in on each other as well, but that’s about it.”  She also spoke to Gwen before the blonde got super busy a month ago, but she refrained from saying so. 

“That’s very kind of you to do.”

“Look man, you already know how lonely life get's for people like us- especially in an isolating society like mine. And now that we aren’t apart of the task-force any more, we need each other. As allies, supports, friends. My reasons for keeping them close aren’t unselfish.” 

“I still respect you for it and for coming here.” Miles’ leather colored eyes were locked onto her ebony ones, both were unmindful to the fact that they’d inched a bit closer together. The young Spiderman meant what he said, he hadn’t known Margo Kess for long, but taking that kind of initiative aligned with the basis of her character. He didn’t need to know her for long to see that she a was a remarkable individual; who else would defy their psycho boss and extend their loyalty to someone they met for fifteen seconds? It wasn’t Miles’ intentions to neglect his friends/allies though. He and his family needed those three months to recuperate so he locked the watch Hobie had gifted him in a drawer and somewhere over those twelve weeks his friends: Peter, Pav, Hobie, Peni, Ham, even Gwen were stored in the back of his mind. Margo was interesting though, she was the most surreal out of the bunch so she snuck her way into his dreams once in a while. There were times where he would be tempted to draw her and as much as he tried to refrain, he failed. He had a few sketches of the virtual girl, but he told himself repeatedly that as an aspiring artist he had every right to want to draw such an aesthetically pleasing avatar with a bomb ass color scheme. Miles raised his eyebrow curiously when Margo began laughing.

“I was a bit scared coming here, i'm not gonna lie. I felt like I was pushing a boundary by showing up here uninvited... so thank you for that sentiment.”

A thought popped into his head and while he could have internalized it, he wanted to share it with her so she knew how much her being here meant to him . 

“Around this time a year ago, I prayed for one of my cross-dimensional spider friends to show up. Hell, I would’ve even been ecstatic to see Ham.” 

That last part caused them both to chuckle. He thought briefly about how different it would’ve been if Spiderbyte was also displaced to his dimension all those months ago. Would she have come to see him? Probably so, considering that she didn’t need Miguel’s tech to travel dimensions nor did she ever take his theory of canon events with a grain of salt.

“So it actually means a lot..you coming here, helping me out the way you did after the Spider Society…” Miles trailed off and peered out his window, the blatant rejection he experienced at the hands of all those other spider people still stung even after the apology and olive branch was extended. 

“I’d do it again in a heart beat.” The conviction in her tone forced him to look back at her “..for you at least.” 

Her sheer devotion to him had Miles melting like butter on a tender steak straight off the grill. ‘Why am I like this?’ He thought to himself. 

Margo- aware of the serious atmosphere she created- attempted to shift the mood by gesturing to the open document on his laptop. 

“I see I was interrupting something.” She joked “When is this due?” 

Miles blew a raspberry, surprised at himself for allowing the paper to completely slip his mind, even if it was just for a few minutes. 

“Tomorrow afternoon. It’s for AP Psych and I’m short nine pages.”  

Margo sharply inhaled at how stretched thin on time her friend was. Despite being a genius, the girl was no stranger to finishing assignments on a time crunch. Being Spider-woman ensured that would be her new normal. She glanced at the title that was written in bolded sans serif font letters.

“Anxiety and Sleep Paralysis: How Individuals with Anxiety Are Likely to Experience Sleep Disorders” Margo read out loud.  “That’s an interesting topic. I’m sure we can knock this out by midnight.” 

“We?” Miles regarded her with a perplexed look to which she tapped her index finger on her chin as she pretended to think. 

“If only I had the ability to locate and synthesize relevant sources via the internet in less than a minute.” she stated sarcastically before fixing him with a sly grin. 

She did in fact stay with him until 11 p.m., feeding him information that he could stuff his essay with to come up with the required ten pages. He expressed that he wanted to see her again and sure enough, she kept coming back. Now nine months later she still managed to have him wrapped around her virtual finger whenever she said something sweet or flirty and looked at him through those long, feminine eyelashes like she was doing right now. When she says these things, he knows she means them and it’s a clear indication of her not-so platonic feelings for him. It made Miles feel like they could actually fall in love with each other.

And that was a problem. 

Miles wasn’t the same man he was last year or the year before that. His hopeless romantic fourteen year old self would’ve been so receptive to this beautiful girl’s subtle displays of affection, but after everything he went through, he didn’t know if he had it in him to love anyone the same way he loved Gwen Stacy. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. He knew that hurting him wasn’t Gwen’s intentions and that she was going through a lot personally, but it didn’t soften the sting. His best friend banded together a whole force to save him and apologized within an inch of her life so of course Miles forgave her. He low-key blamed himself as well because in hindsight, he idealized her for a whole year- basically falling in love with a memory of this awesome GhostSpider who understood him. Drawing her every day and getting lost in fantasies was the perfect way to set himself up heartbreak. Miles hadn’t seen her in a year—not because he held any ill will, but because despite all his good memories of her, he couldn’t stop reliving the embarrassing moment that was their last interaction.  It was only thanks to Hobie and Margo— who actually visited her on the regular — did he know that Gwen was safe back at home with her father, taking a hiatus from being Spiderwoman.  Back to the beguiling, blue baddie that was currently flipping through one of his sketchbooks from the eighth grade that he’d granted her access to. Miles was a naïve little boy who lacked self control when Gwen was the object of his affection, but now he knew better. Despite Margo being nothing but loyal to him since he met her, Miles refused to instill all of his trust into the girl. He refused to fall in love with her, giving her the opportunity to break his heart (unintentionally or not). If there was one thing in his life that he could control it was this. Once Miles realized the pure contentment he felt watching her doing something as simple as lounge in his room and look through his art- he knew he had to put an end to it.

“Yo i’m actually heading to the store with my mom in a bit so you should probably…”

Margo’s blue cheeks flushed violet as she shut the book. 

“Oh yeah! Of course. My bad.” 

He felt immense guilt at her innocent response to his frankness. Margo was so precious and he was usually relaxed around her, but lately it’d been getting more difficult  being in her presence without wanting to hold and caress her. She got up from her sitting position and placed his old sketchbook neatly back in the spot she’d retrieved it from. 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow night?” Margo asked gesturing toward the video game case. 

“6 p.m. sharp, girl. That is if I don’t run into too much trouble during my patrol, of course.” 

Margo gave him a closed-mouthed smile of mild contentment before turning away to leave, but Miles didn’t want to part ways on such a lukewarm note. Worried that his previous abruptness offended her more than she was letting on, Miles called out to the avatar before she could depart.

“Margo, hold up.” he rushed the words out causing her to look back at him with slightly raised eyebrows. 

“Yeah?”

“Your hair looks really good. I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier.”

“Thanks! I actually did it myself…with some help from my mom, but still.” She proudly fiddled with one of the silver cuff decorated strands. 

“Either way it’s fire.” 

Finally, her gapped tooth grin made its appearance at his compliment. Miles considered it a mission completed and pat himself on the back. 

“I’ll see you later.” And with that, she was gone in a blink of an eye. Miles let out a sigh, but it wasn’t one of relief. Quite the opposite actually. You know the feeling pure bliss as the late spring sun shines down on you, providing you with a pleasant warmth and vitality? Then eventually a cloud looms over to block the sun, causing you to feel…deprived and you have no choice but to wait until the cloud passes so you can experience the beaming sunlight again. That’s probably the best way to describe Miles’ discontentment at Margo’s departure. Although to be fair, he did basically shoo her away.

‘I need to get goddamn grip.’ the lovelorn boy scolded himself as he plopped down on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. With his laundry already folded and his plans to go to the store with Rio not til this afternoon, Miles decided to pass some time by sketching a little. He unlocked his nightstand and hidden in plain sight amongst a bunch of miscellaneous objects were the dimensional travel watch Hobie had given him and a sketchbook he’d gotten at Marshals. Miles plucked the sketchbook from the drawer and went to sit at his drafting table. This particular sketchbook was different than his others. It had a silvery, rainbowish holographic cover and when opening the book, one can expect to be met with a portrait of a smiling Margo Kess with her low afro puffs and blue skin. If you turn the page there was another sketch of the avatar…then another…then another and so forth. Miles flipped to the last few pages of the sketch book and picked up his navy blue colored pencil to create the outline of intricate bubble braids. His tendency to put people- specifically girls- on pedestals contributed to his downfall last year and he was too grown to make the same mistakes, but old habits die hard and Miles shamelessly sketched his avatar friend with the rationalization that 

‘As an artist, it’s my right to capture what I find aesthetically pleasing.’

[cosmiccannibalcamille]

How Anaretic Pluto Impacts YOU

What: Pluto Rx in the 29th degree of Capricorn

When: Sept. 1 - Nov. 19, 2024

Who’s Impacted: EVERYONE, but esp. cardinal sign (Capricorn, Cancer, Libra, Aries) placements at 29°

Takeaway: The planet that tears things down and build them back up is re-pulverizing the part of YOUR chart ruled by Capricorn for the last time in our lifetime, so nbd, right?

     On Sept. 1, 2024, the big, bad planet of power, Pluto, began retrograding through the anaretic degree (a.k.a. the 29th degree) of Capricorn. If you’re thinking, “Oh great, what fresh hell is this?” I hear you. But before you spiral into existential dread like I did during all of August (thanks, Mercury Retrograde), let’s break down what this transit is really about—and how YOU can best work with it. First, a refresher on the anaretic degree in astrology. 

The Anaretic Degree in Astrology

     I wrote about this degree at great length in my Anaretic Neptune article, buuuut… In astrology, the 29th degree of any sign is like the final boss battle in a video game. It’s the degree of ultimate karma, where all the lessons of that sign come to a head. The term anaretic is derived from the Greek word anareta, meaning “destroyer” or “bringer of necessity.” As a practitioner of both modern and traditional astrology, I consider the anaretic degree as one that is a harbinger of challenging circumstances, which can indicate a sense of urgency or crisis that demands resolution, that also makes way for pivotal moments of growth.

     Sounds confusing, but it really isn’t. When a planet occupies the anaretic degree in a birth chart or during a transit, it can amplify the sense of urgency associated with that planet’s energy. It’s neither good nor bad, but it can feel rather ~karmic~. That is, you feel like you keep repeating the same lessons again and again until finally…YOU LEARN. You master. You stop the cycle.

     At least, that’s my takeaway of the anaretic degree. It is a degree that holds a unique significance, often regarded as a critical point of transition and culmination. This degree—the 29th degree—has always been a degree of interest to me, as I have my Venus in the degree; I’ve always attributed a lot of my relationship / self-love / family troubles, lessons, and struggles to this degree. But I’ve also realized over the years just how critical this degree is in the good parts of my personality: my drive, urgency, and tenacity to DO SOMETHING. 

Key Themes of Pluto in 29° Capricorn

     When a planet like Pluto—a.k.a. the cosmic wrecking ball of transformation, death, rebirth, and all things underworld—hits this degree, you better believe it’s pulling out all the stops. Since Pluto is retrograde, you’re getting a second (or third, or fourth) chance to deal with the baggage you’ve been lugging around since Pluto first entered Capricorn in 2008. Speaking of which… Think back to 2008: What were you doing? Where were you in your life? What was going on? In the world, we had the GFC—or, global financial crisis—the most devastating financial crisis since the Great Depression.  

     Slowly but surely, this transit has been dismantling outdated structures, both in our personal lives and out in the world. We’ve seen it in the collapse of big institutions (again, I cite 2008), the rise of new power players, and the endless debates over capitalism, authority, and control. When Pluto first entered Capricorn, the financial world got real intense, real fast. The focus? Power dynamics in money—who had it, who wanted it, and who lost it. It was all about examining the deep foundations of our financial systems and questioning the status quo. As Pluto prepares to take its last curtsy in Capricorn in our lifetime, nestling into 29°, these other Pluto in Capricorn themes are coming to a head:

     The patriarchal structures that have ruled for centuries are up (and have been up) for review. We are still questioning where authority comes from and whether it’s still relevant—or if it’s just another relic of a bygone era. The old guard is clinging to power, but cracks are starting to appear in their seemingly impenetrable walls. On a personal level, this brief transit might push you to reassess your career and business goals. Are you building something lasting, or are you just playing by the rules because that’s what you’ve been taught? Pluto’s retrograde energy can veer towards ruthless—use it to get real with yourself about your ambitions and whether they’re aligned with your true inner power.

Related Reading Work with Anaretic Pluto in Capricorn with my 2024 Birth Chart Reading. Learn how to work with the remaining transits of 2024—along with Pluto in the 29th degree—to foster transformative personal growth.

The Opportunities & Struggles of Anaretic Pluto 

     Despite the heavy vibes, retrograde Pluto at the anaretic degree offers some pretty powerful opportunities. For one, this transit might manifest as an invitation to take back your power. Whether it’s in your career, finances, or personal life, reassess where you’ve been giving away your control. Use this period to set stronger boundaries, get disciplined about your goals, and start building the structures that will support your long-term success.

     Pluto’s retrograde can also help you confront and transform your scarcity mindset. If you’ve been operating from a place of lack—whether that’s in terms of money, love, or self-worth—this is your chance to dig deep and root out those limiting beliefs. Scarcity is just fear in a fancy outfit. Strip it down to its core, and you’ll find the strength to create abundance from within.

     That said, power struggles might come to a head during this final leg of Pluto in Capricorn. Whether it’s at work, in your relationships, or on a larger societal scale (*AHEM* politics), expect power dynamics to be front and center. Pluto at 29° Capricorn might push you to confront those who hold power over you—or to face the ways in which you’ve been misusing your own power. Pluto’s energy is all about transformation, but that doesn’t mean we’re always ready for it. The anaretic degree can stir up a lot of fear around change, especially when it comes to letting go of old structures and ways of being. Remember, though—fear is just a sign that you’re on the brink of something big.

Get YOUR Horoscope for this final leg of Retrograde Pluto in Capricorn on The Cosmic Almanac:

[lovejosephquinn]

Happy Birthday to Joe!

A small appreciative post for the birthday boy.

This time last year the majority of us (including me) didn’t know that this person existed. We watched ST and we fell in love with the curly metal head on our screens, which later flourished into us becoming aware of the beyond perfect sweet London boy that brought the character to life. His talent is endless, he’s the kindest soul, funny and chaotic as hell and insanely good looking (which I’m pretty sure he realises btw) he’s just incredibly humble about it.

I dived head first into the obsession pretty much from the get go, I watched almost all of his work and found out all I could about him, smiling and practically quit breathing every time new content hit. Then I rejoined tumblr after a decade in August, hid behind the scenes a bit until I began reading some of the fucking phenomenal fics people were putting out there, so I decided to write again and come the end of October I wrote my first mini series. Daring myself to post it thinking it would get next to no reads and that I’d just continue to fade into the background.

Everything changed, I slotted into the fandom like I was meant to fit there. I don’t know, I guess I felt I’d found purpose. I’ve met some beautiful, amazing people along the way, made friends and continued to pursue my forgotten love of writing; and it’s all down to Joe, the man who stole my heart and made me feel like a fucking teenager at the grand age of 28. For that I thank him so much and I thank every single one of you that have took the time to give my work attention and actually enjoy it.

💛💛💛💛

[skellagirl]

I am, as usual, late lol, but Y'KNOW. This is gonna be a long, rambly post lol, sorry, I have a lot of thoughts.

2023 was a weird year for me, artwise. When it began I was still deep in my Art Block From Hell, which had begun in mid-2021 and lasted the entirety of 2022.

Being in the thick of such a ridiculously suffocating art block, for TWO AND A HALF YEARS, is like... I can't describe how fucking life-draining it is. It felt like something was fundamentally wrong with me -- like a part of me, which used to be as effortless as breathing or blinking my eyes, had ceased to function altogether. It wasn't just a regular art block, it was a complete identity crisis. I could no longer trust the instincts I'd honed over twenty-plus years, could no longer trust my sense of observation or my ability to recreate what I saw. I felt BROKEN, and every single time I picked up my tablet pen it was like I was scraping my insides with a spoon, trying to pick up whatever tiny dregs of dried-up, crusty shit I could manage to puke up onto my canvas. It was fucking painful and humiliating and completely demoralizing.

I'm not really sure what finally got me to do so, but sometime in summer (my memory is shit lol) I downloaded Game Maker, found a video tutorial on youtube, and just... gave myself over to it. I made myself learn how to use Aseprite, and working with pixels, making teeny-tiny little sprites, forced me to work in ways I usually don't. It was a lot harder for me to find the flaws in my art when my art was thirty-five pixels tall and the anatomy was stylized to communicate clear information rather than be a recreation or approximation of reality. I think I really do credit that time working on game dev as the thing that finally cracked loose all the gunk that was keeping me stuck -- I could not perpetuate the cycle of toxicity I'd fallen into because I could barely even conceptualize what 'good' or 'bad' pixel art even looked like lol. I just knew that I was making art, and for the first time in two years, it didn't feel like I was having to desperately beg the emaciated husks of my sense of self-worth and confidence to cooperate while doing so.

(I actually sort of abandoned my foray into game dev around August/September lol, as my adhd-brain, flitting around like a little hummingbird to every dopamine-rich-flower, is wont to do 🥲 But I wanna get back into it at some point!)

From there I had a rush of inspiration for an original project I've been mulling around in my head for years, and I wrote thousands of words in my worldbuilding document, made a map, developed the shell of a possible actual STORY. I returned to sketching. Conventional sketching. It was, at first, largely still comprised of that same demotivating struggle against myself, but I was so deep in the throes of inspiration (after several years of this project laying dormant in my google drive) that I NEEDED to sketch. So I kept going. And after a while, it got....... easier. And I started hating everything I made a little less. I painted, properly, for the first time in years. I stayed up late into the night, even if it meant I would be tired at work the next day, because drawing felt so damn GOOD again and I had missed that feeling so much. All I wanted to do was draw. For the first time in two and a half years, I could finally see the light at the end of the fucking tunnel.

I still don't think I'm quite out of the woods yet. My style is changing, as all artists' styles do over time, and that comes with stumbling adjustments. My confidence is still small and shaky and recovering; I still catch myself second-guessing what I've drawn, and even looking at some of the things here on my grid makes me cringe a little bit for one reason or another.

But compared to both 2021 and 2022, the volume of art, and in particular the volume of art I don't actively despise, is WAY higher, and I'm really really hopeful that that means I'm finding my footing again.

So! Here's to 2024, and to continuing to move towards the light at the end of the tunnel 🙏🌟 I'm gonna try.

[finny-propaganda]

One of my favorite scenes from A Separate Peace, taken from chapter four:

A French examination was announced for one Friday late in August. Finny and I studied for it in the library Thursday afternoon; I went over vocabulary lists, and he wrote messages—je ne give a damn pas about le francais, les filles en France ne wear pas les pantelons—and passed them with great seriousness to me, as aide-mémoire. Of course I didn’t get any work done. After supper I went to our room to try again. Phineas came in a couple of minutes later.

“Arise,” he began airily, “Senior Overseer Charter Member! Elwin ‘Leper’ Lepellier has announced his intention to make the leap this very night, to qualify, to save his face at last.”

I didn’t believe it for a second. Leper Lepellier would go down paralyzed with panic on any sinking troopship before making such a jump. Finny had put him up to it, to finish me for good on the exam. I turned around with elaborate resignation. “If he jumps out of that tree I’m Mahatma Gandhi.”

“All right,” agreed Finny absently. He had a way of turning cliches inside out like that. “Come on, let’s go. We’ve got to be there. You never know, maybe he will do it this time.”

“Oh, for God sake.” I slammed closed the French book.

“What’s the matter?”

What a performance! His face was completely questioning and candid.

“Studying!” I snarled. “Studying! You know, books. Work. Examinations.”

“Yeah ...” He waited for me to go on, as though he didn’t see what I was getting at.

“Oh for God sake! You don’t know what I’m talking about. No, of course not. Not you.” I stood up and slammed the chair against the desk. “Okay, we go. We watch little lily-liver Lepellier not jump from the tree, and I ruin my grade.”

He looked at me with an interested, surprised expression. “You want to study?”

I began to feel a little uneasy at this mildness of his, so I sighed heavily. “Never mind, forget it. I know, I joined the club, I’m going. What else can I do?”

“Don’t go.” He said it very simply and casually, as though he were saying, “Nice day.” He shrugged, “Don’t go. What the hell, it’s only a game.”

I had stopped halfway across the room, and now I just looked at him. “What d’you mean?” I muttered. What he meant was clear enough, but I was groping for what lay behind his words, for what his thoughts could possibly be. I might have asked, “Who are you, then?” instead. I was facing a total stranger.

“I didn’t know you needed to study,” he said simply, “I didn’t think you ever did. I thought it just came to you.”

It seemed that he had made some kind of parallel between my studies and his sports. He probably thought anything you were good at came without effort. He didn’t know yet that he was unique.

I couldn’t quite achieve a normal speaking voice. “If I need to study, then so do you.”

“Me?” He smiled faintly. “Listen, I could study forever and I’d never break C. But it’s different for you, you’re good. You really are. If I had a brain like that, I’d—I’d have my head cut open so people could look at it.”

“Now wait a second ...”

He put his hands on the back of a chair and leaned toward me. “I know. We kid around a lot and everything, but you have to be serious sometime, about something. If you’re really good at something, I mean if there’s nobody, or hardly anybody, who’s as good as you are, then you’ve got to be serious about that. Don’t mess around, for God’s sake.” He frowned disapprovingly at me. “Why didn’t you say you had to study before? Don’t move from that desk. It’s going to be all A’s for you.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, without any reason.

“It’s okay. I’ll oversee old Leper. I know he’s not going to do it.” He was at the door.

“Wait a minute,” I said more sharply. “Wait just a minute. I’m coming.”

“No you aren’t, pal, you’re going to study.”

“Never mind my studying.”

“You think you’ve done enough already?”

“Yes.” I let this drop curtly to bar him from telling me what to do about my work. He let it go at that, and went out the door ahead of me, whistling off key.

[ngtskynebula]

ao3 wrapped asks: 3, 14, & 29!

This is the first time I've ever received an ask 😭💘 It's so exciting! Thank you, so much, for this! 😚🤗

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

I tend towards my Grand Chase longfic, 'Relíquia das Almas: O Conto da Espada'. (The title's translation: Soul Relic: The Sword's Tale.) I published it, once, but it was kinda... awful, so I deleted it and decided to rework everything.

It's much better now, but I have next to nothing written yet 😭 But I am so, so proud of how it's turning out... the plot matured a lot, along with the cast's characterization (including the OCs needed to tell the story), and, most importantly, the thematic explorations at the fic's core.

14. What’s your shortest work of the year?

I have to actually open my writing folder to answer this. 2023 was a blur.

Okay, so! I finished one (1) text this year, but I actually started it last year, on August 20th. Had it done by November, 19th, 2023 🕊🪦

It's a Seventeen oneshot. It's pretty bad, so I'll have to rewrite it.

This year I had a bunch of ideas, for Grand Chase and Seventeen, but the only one I actually began was a Grand Chase fanfic I started back in January... I wrote a whole smut scene, and then I just. Did not.

So, wait, hold on— Lemme explain 🖐

I had this Lass/Azin fic idea, right? But I was going through thooose days when my brain shuts down and I do all the thinking with my [🚫], so I projected it all on a smut fic. And then my creative energy vanished like Spider-man 😭

I wrote 2/5 scenes, 1.745 words, of the actual fic, and that's it. I still like it, though; just don't feel like writing it right now.

So: finished shortest fic — Seventeen oneshot, started last year, that ended up being 9.211 words long; unfinished shortest fic, started and written this year — Grand Chase's Lass/Azin oneshot's smut spin-off, 3.386 words long.

I can't believe I wrote more smut about the fic than the actual fic. This fic's gen, ffs 🖐😭 This is unreal 🖐😭

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Fun question! Well, recently I had two ideas that got me very excited to write: a fluffy 5+1 romantic Lass/Elesis ficlet (Grand Chase), and a saucy Jeonghan/Joshua (Seventeen) three-shot that's literally made for me to self project my libido, whenever I feel like writing it ☝️🧐

I won't share my AO3 kpopper profile, but I guess there's no problem in sharing this YoonHong fic spoiler here, even though I don't want to associate this acc with that one.

Note: I write in brazilian, so this is a translation. Sorry if it reads wonky.

🌱 "Lass Isolet and Elesis Sieghart naturally got married. When the violent missions and uncountable interdimensional travels ceased, Lass did not get used to Cidade de Prata, even though he was the local guild's master. He spent more time at Reino de Canaban than everywhere else, and, in the same vein, he did not get used to being away from Elesis. Years and years being a Chaser tattoed the warrior's presence under his skin. He wouldn't give up this comfort."

❤️‍🔥 "When Yoon Jeonghan posted a laying down selfie, with exposed boobies and lips sugestively opened, he gained 2.459 new followers, and the story received more than seventy three thousand views. Not bad at all for a profile only fifty thousand followers big."

I choose these two because I can't pick only one 😔 Both suited very well the atmosphere I was going with in these stories, so I'm pretty proud.

Again, thank you v v much for the ask! 😚💘

[little-peril-stories]

Camp Nano July 2023

How It Went

Um, not how I expected.

The good:

I managed to write every day. I'll confess here that, because we went on vacation and were all over the place most days, I sometimes updated my word count for the day, wrote more, and saved that 'update' for the next day because I like getting the badges. (All the writing was done in July though! I did all the outlining and planning work between February and June, but I didn't start writing till July 1.)

My outline was helpful. I didn't spend a lot of time agonizing over "what happens next" because I always knew, even if the specifics were a little fuzzy. My process boils down to 'plan hard, but allow for deviation & exploration' and it seems like that is still a system that works for me.

Some of the writing was OK. I mean, it's a writing challenge and I was going fast. She gonna need work. But I often smiled while I was writing, or when I was rereading scenes, and that's a good indicator for me. :)

The , uh, well, you see:

I wasn't always feeling it. Trying to track exactly why I felt this way has been tough. I'm willing to admit it could have been burnout (or something adjacent to it) since Camp Nano began right on the heels of the end of the school year, and I had just finished the whirlwind of writing The Queen of Lies in a month, a Thing That Happened that we may never understand. Maybe I started planning too early and the passion had faded since the height of my enthusiasm as I plotted it out. Idk. Maybe it was being on vacation, constantly being around people and having limited time to myself to really feel the story and the words and the everything. Idk.

The romantic tension isn't there. And this one hurts, because I (personally, as someone who is actually really new to writing romantic tension lol) think I did this really well in TQOL, so what's different here? (Aside from diff characters, diff story, okay I get it, you know what I mean.)

I was distracted. And this one is purely my fault. I was editing chapters of TQOL for posting throughout this time, too, and even though it takes a different kind of brainpower, it was often the task that called to me more.

Overall:

So, I'm SUPER proud of myself for achieving my Camp Nano goal of 31,000 words (1000 words/day) on July 28. But I kind of wonder if maybe it wasn't quite the right time to write this story.

We'll see how the last three days of July go (I want them badges, dang it), but the true test will be in August, when I have no goal set for myself. Will I focus on the finally finishing Book 1 and letting humans read it? Will I just work on TQOL? Will angsty heist wip rise again? Or will the passion for Book 2 (which I was SO EXCITED TO WRITE) return the moment the daily word goal is gone? (lol what a joke we all know I'm gonna write Will's POV chapters for TQOL.)

Thanks for reading this pointless ramble.

[the-mira-life-project-mtf]

Gender Reassignment Surgery Finally Scheduled!

It has been almost 17 months since the last time that I visited the OHSU clinic in Portland Oregon to see if I was a candidate for GRS.

There have been many times that my hope had fallen through. Days when I wondered if something outside of my control had ruined my plans to finally feel ‘complete’.

To compound the mental pain during the process, my experience with OHSU has been somewhat ‘complicated’. I am used to medical departments keeping their patients up to date...however, this is just a fantasy that I strongly urge others to avoid.

First off, let me say that my encounter with Dr. Dy, at OHSU was a pleasant experience. Unlike other physicians who only see the physical treatment and outcome, I was greatly appreciative that Dr. Dy also took into consideration my emotions and feelings regarding this sensitive topic that I would rarely speak in public.

It was because of my trust in her, her medical background, and willingness to understand ‘my own’ situation that I committed my care at OHSU. As for the urology department, my experience wasn’t all too great. Hopefully this will change in the following appointments.

One topic that I wish to cover in this blog post is:

Do not be afraid to reach out!

I have reached out three times to OHSU regarding my surgery status, and each time, I have received a different response.

I left OHSU in January 2022 knowing that the surgery would most possibly not occur that calendar year, thanks to COVID. Dr. Dy mentioned in clinic that due to the virus, their patients were backed up. She gave a timeline of ten months upwards to a year.

Yet, as time went on, I never heard a word regarding the status of my surgery. I would check the Portal monthly to see if any messages were sent, but as always, there was nothing to report.

By August of 2022, I finally reached out to the clinic and asked for an update. I was given the timeframe of January 2023 to May 2023 to hear a response for surgery scheduling (but not the offical surgery date).

Yet, by May 1st of 2023, I had yet to hear from them.

So, I sent another message after talking to my PCP and therapist regarding my communication with OHSU. I had expected a prompt reply within 3 days as the Portal promises, yet something ‘anxiety-producing’ had happened that I wish to discuss:

The Portal allows you to see if your messages have been opened, and by May 2nd, my message had been marked as ‘Seen’. Yet, day after day, I recieved no reply from the department of urology.

By May 3rd, I expected to finally have my reply so that I could make plans for the future: like lodging, psychology papers for surgery, saving money, arranging caregivers, and preparing my family to live without me at home

Yet once again, no reply came.

May 4th & 5th, I began to wonder if the clinic was trying to receive an answer to my question...so I gave them the benefit of the doubt.

May 6th & 7th was the weekend, so I did not expect any reply from OHSU. But I was almost certain that a decent person would at least say something by Monday, May 8th.

During the weekend, I wondered what was the reason as to why no one wrote a reply. I came up with many thoughts at night that made me worry and despair. Thoughts like: ‘Are they angry with me?’ | ‘Am I no longer a patient?’ | ‘Did I send the message to the wrong person?’ | ‘Is this something to do with my insurance?’ | ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should not be having surgery!’

By May 8th, my reply had never come.

I began to think that maybe this was a universal sign that I should not be having this surgery after all. And I began wondering if I should wait for an eternity, or look elsewhere for surgery and begin the whole process all over again.

That night, I thought of sending a reminder message to the department: ‘Maybe they forgot?’ Yet, if they cannot answer a simple question regarding scheduling and paperwork...then is it a really good idea to entrust my future care with their department? Especially if I have an urgent question in post-op!

‘Well, the last message did say ‘at the end of Spring’, and Spring officially is over on June 21st. Maybe I should just be patient?”

May 9th -- like before, I waited for a reply -- but no reply came.

Today, my mother brought up my ‘lack’ of swimming and I told her that the last time I went to swim at the YMCA, I had a terrible experience that has kept me away from the pool for almost one year.

Without GRS, my life has been in a painful standstill.

I cannot use any public restroom or locker room because of my strict morals. Everyone is different, but my morals prevent me from using a women’s restroom if I still have a penis. This is because I would never want to encounter a man in a women’s restroom...even if that individual is a transwoman who hasn’t undergone GRS.

I can no longer use a male’s restroom or locker room...because I now ‘appear’ too much as a female. Not to mention that this would create a terrible experience of abuse and even possible sexual harassment.

Even without GRS, I cannot face going to the ER for emergencies due to a bad experience in 2019 when I had to reveal that I was transgender. Even my time in the ocean had suffered because of fear of getting wet and things revealing too much...it is a painful existence!

With a long drive to Bainbridge Island, I had plenty of time to think of my next move. I sent a second message to OHSU...but instead of placing blame...I apologized and asked once more.

I honestly did not expect anything to come out of it.

Around 3:10PST I finally recieved a reply from OHSU. In communications with Mr. Skelton who asked if I would like to have surgery on July 12th 2023 with Dr. Dy being my attending physician.

I was thrilled!

I quickly checked my calandar to see that surgery will be a week after my vacation. Perfect timing!

So, with one step closer to finalizing my new life as a female...I can only dream of returning back to the pool to swim! Play in the ocean and clam dig! Not be afraid to use the restroom when I really need it. No fear in violating my morals bathing amongst other women in onsen and locker rooms.

I can finally focus on my health instead of jeopardizing it. Even possibly enter a relationship without having a panic attack.

For most of my life, I felt neither male or female...but both at the same time. I can only wonder how my future will change after this surgery...for the best and for the worse.

Only time will tell; though the path will be long.

[ninomiwaifu]

Hi..

I don't even know why I'm writing this right now.. or to who.. it just hit me..

I've been off Tumblr for over 4 years, and now I'm back. I had an old account with the same name as this one, and I deactivated it in 2019, deleted everything from it, along with AO3, and just moved on..

I was a HUGE #arashi fan back then, and oh I loved them so much, so so much it was becoming a burden, a pressure, one that my mental state was not able to handle anymore, and just in a blink of an eye I snapped. Those were dark times for me, I can vividly recall the crying, the excitement, the love and adoration I had for these gorgeous 5 human beings that pushed me forward, helping me in my darkest days. Through them I discovered a lot about myself and my passion, and it shaped me into the person I am today. But at some point, everything became too much, they were an unreachable dream, and I couldn't help but spiral into a maze of self destruction and blame, pity.. I knew about them in 2014, during my last semester in college, and I will not be exaggerating if I say they pulled me out of an unknown darkness, and slowly, my love for them guided me to discover what I really want to be in the future, what I am now, and probably will be for the rest of my life...

August 28, 2019. The date is, and will always be engraved in my heart, the day I decided to cut all ties with Arashi.. I deleted all of their pictures, their music, posters, deactivated all accounts, and abruptly removed all signs of their existence from my life. Looking back now; 4 years later, I realized how I was never able to truly thank them; for being there when I needed them, for helping me in ways they're probably unware of. Selfish? Maybe I am, but even though they were deleted from my life, never, NEVER from my heart.. and soon after that, they announced their hiatus. I took it well, too well actually, and went on with my life. I slowly began listening to their songs again, following their news, but never like the avid fan I was before. It still hurts, thinking about those years I followed them, but I can say I'm glad, looking back, knowing they were a phase I needed to reshape my life and personality, and now, I'm back.. I'm not a fan anymore, I mean, not as I was before, but everytime I come accross them, there's a nostalgic smile painting my face and my heart.. They're not around as much as before, and it breaks my heart somehow; looking at the lack of news, the tours, the music... But it's okay, really, I know they're happy and successful, I know they are where they want to be, but I can't help it, missing them, after all these years, you know?

I don't even know if there are still active fans on this website, or on any other platform, maybe someone out there will relate to what I'm feeling at the moment, even if it's just one person, but it's okay.. I created a new account with the same name, and I probably would never be able to find all the fans I was following back then, but I guess I wanted to have a connection out here, even as small as an account, just to document things as simple as some random GIFs..

I miss you Ohno Satoshi, Sakurai Sho, Aiba Masaki, Ninomiya Kazunari, and Matsumoto Jun.. I miss you guys so much.. and I love you all so much.. I'm forever grateful to have known you, to have been a fan. Even if it's all now in the past, you still hold a special place in my heart, a place no one would be able to fill but you. Thank you for all the support and guidance, for all the good memories. I wish there was a way I can get my old account back, just to read that last post I wrote about leaving.. I can't remember any of the words I wrote, but I'm sure they were full of love and apologies..

I'm where I always wanted to be, I have my dream job, and I'm sure your presence was a part of why I was able to achieve that.

I love you so much.. stay safe..

AMNOS forever 💜💚💙💛❤️

[megashadowdragon]

lostbelt 6 part 3 unsung hero

www . reddit . com/r/grandorder/comments/14xnlkb/lostbelt_6s_unsung_herolb6_part_3_spoilers/

I run. I run.

I'm shocked at my vigor, even as the world crumbles all around me.

"Take care of the Prophesied Child, ______ ___.

Protect her at all times.

And, if you would, tell me at the end of each day how her journey has been.

I can't join you, given my position...But if anything happens, I'd like to at least be there with you in spirit."

I was proud to do it, at first.

But over time, I began to vaguely understand the consequence of her request.

Still, I kept sending the reports, and was ordered to avoid joining the battlefield. Then...

One day, while I was far away at Oxford,

I saw flames rising over Londinium.

"Ahhhh..."

There was nothing I could do to atone. I wasn't responsible to begin with.

The queen's army might really have attacked.

That's what I told myself.

"If only we had a chance to teach Londinium its place!"

"The Round Table Liberation Army? Please! As if those defects from the factory could ever stand beside us, the chosen humans!"

Try as I might, I couldn't forget the voices of the humans in Salisbury, nor those of the fairies egging them on.

When I saw the embers of Londinium, my hind legs went numb.

I would never run freely again.

Silently, I accepted that fact.

To begin with, the state of the Fairydom was too difficult for me.

I should have been born in a world where I could exercise my talents, more purely, as I pleased.

A life without words, without prejudice, without conflict.

I wished I had been a creature of the wild, racing through the meadows.

Dashing, like the wind.

Galloping, like a beast.

That was all I ever wanted.

But that humble goal was dashed to cinders, when I saw the fire.

Yet, I gained one last chance.

They told me it was do or die, so I trampled the earth with all my might.

It hurt.

My flesh and spirit screamed at me, "what's the point after all this?"

I had no words to give. I didn't deserve to mourn that brave, gallant girl knight.

All I could do was smile bitterly. There wasn't a point.

If there was no point, then all I had to think about was what to do next.

I ran, and ran.

The pain was fierce.

But so was my joy.

While the world crumbled around me, I was freer then I'd ever been in my life.

A faehorse's life is over if it breaks a leg.

The pain was so intense it tore my soul apart.

For a day and a half, I pulled that carriage like there was no tomorrow. I knew my legs would give out soon, anyway.

I turned my pain into joy, and ran.

I ran, just to deliver them to the coast.

I ran, not to hide hope, but to create it.

No matter how corrupt it was, this world had given birth to me, raised me, and taught me joy. I sprinted across the land of Britain I so loved.

When the carriage collapsed, I cut loose the harness and dashed for the woods, alone.

As I ran, I could hear my body being mangled.

What a blessing this is!

What grace I was given!

To be happy, until my final moment.

To be like the wind, until the very end.

- From Kinoko Nasu's Diary, August 6, 2021

Found this after seeing someone bringing up that Nasu wrote about Redra Bit's last moments when he sent the Chaldea gang off to the Storm Border gave me a link to it and couldn't help but post it here. As someone who was actually shocked when the game just like, completely forgets he exists after he had broken all his legs running almost 2 days straight just to get Master and the rest to the Border in time and he doesn't get even a single line to the fact we just left him there be devoured by the Mors after being the most absolute unit, this really hit me in the feels, and makes me sad it wasn't added as an actual scene to the game, so I decided to at least post it, that way more people will remember one of the most ignored yet most vital sacrifices we had to accomplish everything at the end of the Lostbelt in time.

reddit comments

Ector and Ainsel/Gareth are better examples. In order to be "good" as a faerie, you need to reject your nature and take responsibility, even when it's hard. It's why Koyanskaya was so disappointed in Murian: She thought she was special, but she was really no different than any other faerie.

Every faerie worth saving was one that actively defied their nature to avoid responsibility. Ector put Castoria's welfare above his own life. Cnoc na Riabh dedicated her entire existence to being the lynchpin the world needed. Ainsel/Gareth held the line. Habetrot...well, she did a lot in defiance of her nature. And Mike did one small act that really hit home the ultimate tragedy of the faeries: Some of them were redeemable.

The fang clan members . Even as murians accepting them into the city when they had nowhere else to go, they're literally talking shit to her, talking about how they wiped our her clan and she's lucky she's even here, talking about how they're going to take over

There's also all the unnamed fairies of the round table army that as far as we know never betrayed and stay honnorable throught the apocalypse. Likewise for those that tried to find refuge to londinum, found the human knight completely exhausted, and decided to selflessly defend them

As we were told all the way back on the beginning "Fairies are extensions of Nature" they just aren't meant to live in society, they are supposed to exist in their most wild and brute way.

Of course it isn't like they cannot coexist (or even be born of) with human societal aspect, heck look at craftsman fairy's like Habbycat

They are just not adjusted by their Intrinsic nature to be capable of building, maintaining and growin communities of their own, at most they are to form groups around a great fairy. Even the societal structures they have in this LB aren't even "real", they are just facsimiles of human behavior.

Is telling that even after 14000 years of time, they seem to be unable to move beyond semi-medieval times

And because they exist in this environment in which they aren't meant to, theirs very existences are filled with flaws

As Redra Bit says he wasn't ever meant to think of stuff like clan relations/politics scheming, prejudice and even words; he was a fae horse, he should just been concerned with running