#maybe I'm just not getting the phrasing of it?

[beansprean]

My Familiar’s Ghost part 90

Masterpost Masterpost 2

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(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up of Guillermo gripping Nandor's fingers tightly, a glowing green shiver effect racing up his arm. Guillermo muses to himself, 'Oh...' 1b. Close up of Guillermo's eyes softening, the goosebumps effect turning pink along with the background as his cheeks flush. He thinks, 'Los goosebumps...' 1c. Close up of their hands shifting position and lacing together tightly. Nandor says, 'It is true you have changed much over the years...' 1d. Knees up of them both sitting on the cot in the cage, hands held together between them. Guillermo smiles shyly, looking up at Nandor from beneath his lashes. Nandor chuckles nervously and cracks a joke, 'Species, even! Three times in as many months! But still Guillermo each time.'

2a. Repeat. Nandor turns toward Guillermo slightly and places his free hand over their laced pair. Guillermo shifts nervously, free hand clenching on his thigh as he gazes down at their hands. He asks hesitantly, 'Even without a soul?' Nandor smiles softly at their hands and says, 'Of course. How did you get it back, anyway?' Guillermo replies, 'I'm not sure...maybe I just needed to be reunited with my body.' 2b. Chest up of Guillermo from Nandor's POV, smiling and gazing down with sparkling, hooded eyes. The background behind him is covered in blue-tinged flashbacks of their first meeting at Panera, his soul plane conversation with Nandor, his spirit re-entering his vampire body, and the phrase 'slayer's will' repeated over and over. Guillermo continues, 'Or... remind myself of something I wanted more than killing. Even when I first met you, I wanted to be a vampire way more than I wanted to kill one. I think whatever I did just...broke the curse.' 2c. Shoulders up of them both facing each other, Nandor shyly playing with their fingers while he mutters, 'True love's kiss, perhaps?' Guillermo startles violently, glasses nearly flying off his face as he barks, 'Huh?!' He thinks to himself, 'Are we done talking around it??' 2d. Shoulders up from behind Nandor as he turns his head around to avoid Guillermo's eyes, shoulders stiff and embarrassed. Blushing hotly, he defends himself, 'I am just saying! That is how these things usually work!' Guillermo, blushing and grinning with barely-contained excitement, one eyebrow raised, leans over to try to catch his eye and asks incredulously, 'Is that all you're saying?!' Nandor mutters back, 'Well, you said it first...' /end ID

[laswells-ashtray]

Soooo because I can't write this properly, so I'm entrusting you with this.

Nik hurt Price comfort.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

Nikolai knows he isn't a young man anymore.

He hears men in their twenties make internet references that go over his head, they all sound like gibberish but apparently, they're humorous to surrounding 20-something year old men.

There are specks of grey starting to appear when he lets his stubble grow out and one stubborn steel strand behind his left ear that he can't seem to hide when he tucks his hair back.

But the excruciating sharp pain that spreads throughout his knee more often than not when he gets out of bed in the morning is a slap in the face to the man he once was.

Realistically he'd always known that the work he does would catch up with him but something about taking that extra minute in the morning just so that he can move without his right knee going out from under him is humiliating.

It isn't just his age, old injuries have a way of making themselves known but it would seem that the older he gets, the longer the list of pains that ail him.

Nikolai is a grown man, he can admit that it awakens an insecurity inside of him that he thought buried. Is he still good enough for John? He had proven himself many years ago but he no longer has the same vitality and agility that he had so often taken for granted.

John is a man in his prime. When did he pass his?

There are many things that a man can ponder whilst waiting to regain the full use of his right knee and yet Nikolai always seems to fall back into that swirling pool of shame and self-doubt. He has yet to find a way out of the water without letting himself drown, choking back into awareness.

One hand rests on the edge of his nightstand, holding him steady as he keeps his weight on his left leg. It's a practised routine by now.

Curling his toes into the carpeted floor beneath him acts as a source of amusement, it is one of few actions that can offer him a distraction as he waits out the aching.

John's string of curses as he batters his pinky off of the doorway is as close to a greeting as he'll receive, he believes that the phrase Sergeant MacTavish would use to describe his partner's ordeal is Fucked It.

The captain somehow manages to overcome his anguish as he approaches Nikolai, stopping in front of him and offering his knee a look of contempt as if the joint had assaulted him personally.

When will it become an inconvenience to him? A flaw that he just can't see past.

"Still playing up?"

He offers John a reluctant nod, there's no use in denying the obvious.

"Why not sit down? It's clearly worse than usual and you're only doing yourself more harm standing, give it a bit of time as you sit down then try to walk around again later."

John's suggestion is deliberately gentle and by the look on his face, Nikolai knows that he's expecting a fight. Maybe he expects the pilot to blow up at him like he has before on one of his worst days, a memory that causes guilt to hack away at what little parts he has that remain undamaged.

Instead, he lowers himself onto the edge of their bed and pretends to miss John's obvious relief.

The other man is quick to park himself beside Nikolai only to fall back until he's sprawled on top of the duvet, fingers hooked on the edge of the mattress as he stares up at their ceiling.

"Back's fucked today. Was thinking of staying in for a bit but if neither of us are up to it then we could go for a lazy day. Bed and Bond, best way to go."

He glances down at his partner, catching the faint grimace on his face as he tries to shift his weight off of the lower left side of his back.

"Okay."

For both of their sakes, he can succumb to his desire for laziness in the name of pain relief.

"C'mere, lie down with me. Can get a catnap in if I've got a good-looking man in my bed and he'll let me use him as a pillow."

The sincerity in John's tone is almost sickening, as is the warm look as he lifts his head just to admire Nikolai. There's an undeniable honesty about the devotion that the other man dedicates to him, his very existence even in its worst state is something that John cherishes. It almost makes him feel bad for doubting them both.

So, he nudges John's shoulder and waits for the other man to settle back onto the side of the bed that he had abandoned only an hour ago before he makes the move to lie down. The pain in his knee is no longer torturous, throbbing lessened to a mere irritation.

The pilot feigns exasperation almost as well as the captain often hides it. "Flattery will gain you nothing."

In lieu of responding, John just plants his face on one of his tits and nuzzles into his chest hair.

[prettylynnpup]

The Neighbor

You'd been hearing tale on and off about someone moving in to that empty house across the street. These tales weren't new though - it seems like there'e been at least one "rumor" per year, and they've always been wrong.

At least, they used to be wrong. Until xe moved in.

9:30 PM, you'd just gotten off of work and finally made it home when you got a knock on your door. "Who the fuck would knock at 9:30?" You pondered to yourself. Because, as far as you remembered, nobody in this neighborhood would knock so much as past 6.

You walk to your door, not knowing what to expect, and you open it. On the other side of the door is a girl you've never seen before. Long black hair, a black dress, chains, some green accents, and a collar were the things you thought most notable about xer. You weren't sure why, but you were especially taken in by that collar, almost like it was stealing your vision away from xer beautiful-

"Hey, neighbor. I just wanted to stop by because I'm still meeting everyone in the neighborhood. Name's Fern."

*click*

Fern... You couldn't stop repeating xer name in your head, no matter how hard you tried. You could swear that you heard a click when xe said xer name, but you elect to ignore it. The name kept repeating and repeating, making it harder to think. At least, until xe waved a hand in your face.

"Hey! Earth to uh, whatever your name is, are you doing okay?"

'Yes! I'm splendid actually!' You wanted to say in response, but found yourself letting out a gentle bark.

"What was that? I think I misheard you?" Fern probes.

You bark again, more confidently.

"I guess I didn't mishear you then, did I?" A glimmer seems to appear in Fern's eye when xe realizes that, yes, you did just bark at xer twice.

"How about we operate like this: one bark for yes, two for no?"

You bark once in response. If you're not going to be able to use your words then goddamn it will you find another way to communicate with the gorgeous owner woman standing on the other side of your door.

"Do you know why it is that you're barking?"

You bark twice. No clue.

"So you didn't notice?"

You turn your head in confusion. Notice what? Did xe do something while you weren't paying attention?

"And you 100% don't remember me at all?"

You bark twice. 'No.' These questions were starting to get really strange. What did xe mean, remember xer? This is xer first time over to your door, right?

"Good. Good puppy."

*click*

A shock went down your spine as you felt yourself get turned on at that phrase. You were painfully embarrassed to be turned on in front of new company, and even more so by the thing that turned you on. Being called a good puppy? You'd never been into petplay - you tried being an owner for your last partner and it just really didn't work out.

Fern walks into your house, heading straight for your kitchen.

'Hey! What are you doing in here? Get out of my house!' Oh right, all you can do is bark. So, you follow xer around your house and bark and bark and bark while xe rummages through your cabinets.

"Puppy, sit."

Your body obeys. You're now on the floor, entirely against your own will. You try to get up, but your arms are so heavy and your paws hands feel so stupid.

"There we go!" Fern loudly announces as xe finds whatever it is that xe was looking for. After a few seconds of fiddling, xe moves behind you and your tail starts wagging gently.

Wait, you don't have a tail, right? How would you be able to feel wagging if you don't have a tail? What the fuck is going on?

*click!*

You feel something tighten around your neck... Your owner put your collar on! Yay!!! You love your owner and you're so glad that xe's back!

Wait... N-no, you don't... That's not right... Something's wrong...

"There we go, that's my sweet pet~"

You start panting... Owner's words feel so good... Maybe you should just fully give in, but only this once right? You won't submit any more after this...

*click!*

You feel a tug from your collar... Owner leashed you today! Thank goodness, you wouldn't want to get lost. Owner picks up a set of keys from the ground and locks that old house, and you and owner start the journey to xer house.

"Finally, fully my little puppy~"

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[junedenim]

2013

beneath the boardwalk, part 11 (series masterlist)

do i wanna know?

warnings: depression & desperation

word count: 3.7k

I moved in with Jackson at the end of January. It was sudden and maybe too soon, but I liked Jackson and his place. I had known him long enough and slept (plain old sleeping) with him long enough to know I could live with him. I felt I had grown out of my old apartment. I had expanded so much like I had eaten a Wonderland cookie that the windows were bursting, shattering glass onto the street, and cutting into me.

It was a form of self-harm that unfortunately hurt Jackson in the process as well. I felt early on in living together that we weren't perfect matches. We didn't talk very often about unrelated things, only ourselves. My narcissistic tendencies were often inflicted on him, but he did the same to me, something I didn't mind because we rarely saw one another, only at nighttime.

It didn't help that he was still my agent. I shunned myself from writing a memoir again because there were unavoidable subjects that would expose me to him in unkind ways. I began writing short stories, thinking I would make a collection of them. Jackson found the idea to be dumb but was polite enough not to phrase it like that.

I started to think about my death in horrible ways. I was convinced I'd get pushed onto the subway tracks. I started seeing my dead grandmother around New York and thought I had developed schizophrenia. I wrote a story about it and labelled it as fiction. Jackson called it "depressing" and found it to read like a science fiction mess. Both were true and criticism I could take back when he was my agent, but not as my boyfriend.

I told Fennel and Kaka about the problem and they told me to go see a therapist. I didn't until I got so high one night that I was convinced I was going to jump out the window by accident. Dr. Varma was thirty, blonde, and had these ugly side bangs. The day after my first session I had Opal cut bangs, full-frontal ones, into my hair. They turned out rather well for someone who has unstoppable shaky hands. I got put on an SSRI, which stumped my creativity until I got used to it around March.

I thought about moving back to London but only ever told Dr. Varma this because I figured it would hurt every New Yorker I knew. In general, things felt aimless. Winter tends to have that effect on me. It's consuming and feels like my stomach has a parasite on it and my brain is being squashed between someone's hands. I was also 26, anxious, and terrified by the thought that I was suddenly going to be 27 that year.

It feels anti-feminist to say a man made everything make sense, so, I'm not going to say that, but certain people make everything make sense. Even though Alex and I didn't talk much, the thought that he'd be 27 too made things feel less troubling. Things made sense in his mum's car driving in circles. 

I don't mean to discourage the power of my friends in this process. Opal comforted me more than anyone. I was often disillusioned with how the start of the year had turned out, mostly with my relationship with Jackson, and despite her close friendship with him, she was always understanding. She never pushed ideas on me. Never toward breaking up or staying together. She felt like Dr. Varma sometimes, her words pointing me in a certain way, but I never had to pay her for it. I always knew she just wanted the best for me.

One evening, we watched The Sound of Music and I cried in her arms while Christopher Plummer sang Edelweiss. I declared Captain Von Trapp would be my husband. I sounded the same way I did when I was 6 but he sang with a tenderness I love so dearly to this day. I found comfort in childish things. I realized how disconnected I had become from that part of my life, with the people who gave me life, the land I grew up in, and how much of a tailspin every chapter had felt. The most normal I had ever felt had been 10 years ago. It belonged in a world I never knew.

I knew I had to get out of New York.

*

I bought a plant in February. One that doesn't need much attention and can sit on your windowsill for a year at a time and not die. It made the act of having a plant a lot less beautiful but I felt like a proper starting point for taking care of things, including myself.

During this time, Jackson and I were still together. We would break up in April where I would be accused of using him, something I did partially do. For a long time after I felt ashamed of that because Jackson had been a person who had changed my life, brought my happiness, and had a beautiful friendship. Our relationship began out of insecurity of my singledom but was also built on the foundations of those traits.

I did use Jackson, but in the same way everyone uses a relationship to fulfill a part of their life. If I didn't need a use for him then we wouldn't have been together. However, I admittedly did use him as a rebound, something I confessed to him when I started going to therapy.

Jackson and I didn't talk much about anything other than ourselves, so we never got to the topic of what we wanted from a relationship. I never had any intentions of marrying Jackson, not to say he had any with me either, but he took it a lot more seriously than I did. Frankly, I didn't take anything seriously and that was starting to scare me.

I had maintained the difficulties of a romantic relationship with near-consistency from the age of 18 to 25, which is particularly rare in the 21st century, especially two people like Alex and I. I took my work seriously during that time and when the relationship fell apart, almost everything else fell to the side.

The proper levels for taking things seriously I'm not sure of, but for me, I didn't feel like I showed up, other than with Opal and Jackson. The only two other people I was as close with were an older gay couple that fed me once a week. I was dependent on everyone. Opal went through a lot of shit in 2012 that I disappeared away from and took Jackson with me. I knew I did it but I was too ashamed to make a change or even say sorry for it. Yet, she took our friendship seriously and still showed up for me.

I decided that after my birthday I would take a trip to upstate New York. I picked dates I knew Jackson couldn't accompany me and rented a car. I wanted to be alone. When I told Opal this she asked me if I wanted company. I thought I didn't need it but her question made me realize that what I desired most was genuine socialization.

Even though she hates suburbia and hiking, Opal came with me.

We drove for four hours up to Watkins Glenn. Opal drove us the first two hours out of the city and I drove the remaining four to our hotel, The Colonial Inn & Creamery. Creamery meaning it had a built-in ice cream parlour, which saved us from many late-night snack runs.

The State Park, which was the main reason I went, had these gorgeous waterfalls. Since it was early spring and the air held a slight drizzle, the park was fairly empty. We stopped at the gorge, right where the water falls down, not in some rushing force, but just like that drizzle of rain that surrounded us on a work up to it. It was gradual before forming a small lake at our feet. I squatted, dipping my hand in, and patting the cold water on my face.

"Should we take a break here?" I asked Opal, who was standing beside me.

She loudly sighed, "Yes. Please!" She sat beside me and took chapstick out of her purse. "It's very beautiful," she said while placing it on. "Thank you for taking me."

I smiled over at her. She wasn't elegantly dressed, something out-of-the-order for her. She looked tired from the walking and her jeans were dirty at the bottom cuffs. She placed her arms on her legs and I felt calm. "Thanks for coming with me," I said. 

We didn't talk after that. We had talked the whole trail and we had many words left to say but we watched the water drizzle down the stone, not a sound made.

She stood and began taking pictures. She had begun dabbling in photography at the end of last year when her boyfriend bought her a camera. (Is that a gift most boyfriends get their girlfriends?). I took out my notepad, small and dainty, and a gift from Jackson.

I drew the waterfall. It was two circles to signify the gorge with a bunch of lines cracking down the middle. On the next page, I wrote, Eroding for a billion years until, one day, water spilled out, and here I am now looking at it. How many paths were walked until the water found this one? I'm not good a poetry, clearly, but it was a respectable description of what my mind was ticking through. I found it to be dumb, even when writing it, but paired with the awful drawing I had drawn and more importantly the photo Opal took of me sitting on the rocks, just me and the water. All together it embodied a piece of me.

On our way back to the hotel we bought peach Schnapps. We drank it while we flicked through the television. It undeniably felt like two kids who broke into their parents' liquor cabinet. We each sat on our individual queen-sized beds and I turned to Opal across the gorge that divided us and said, "I think you're my sister."

She giggled while swallowing, trying to keep all the fluid in. I could tell she almost said something snarky but she softened by the time she could speak. She was an only child and she said to me, "Yeah. It feels that way for me too."

*

After Jackson and I broke up, I briefly lived with Fennel and Kaka while I tried to figure everything out. I was writing more ever since Watkins Glen and Jackson, through his kindness and belief in me, set me up with a different agent. There was no promise to be friends, but we knew we'd run into one another again, especially because of Opal. We ended amicably and he helped me move out. We hugged each other goodbye and I didn't see him for a while after that.

I heard Arctic Monkeys would be headlining Glastonbury again around this time. The announcement had been made weeks prior but I hadn't paid much attention to any news, let alone my other ex-boyfriend. I sent an email to Alex because we were old losers who still primarily communicated through it. If Alex ever got Facebook I think we would still be communicating on it to this day.

In the email, I apologized for not sending my congratulations sooner and that I was excited about the next album. On the whole, it sounded sterile and formal. It came off as something a person he’s never met would send as congratulations in hopes he’d throw some money their way.

Alex politely wrote back a thank you and then asked if I had suffered a stroke because I used “your” when I should have used “you're.” I wrote back how I was rolling around in embarrassment from the thought of it alone. He wrote back a note of laughter. After that, things were dry and I didn't hear from him until June.

*

When the band headlined Glastonbury that year, I didn't watch. You can't get the BBC stream in America, which was beneficial for my well-being. I had decided to move on and not be so absorbed with him. Something I never really did. He was hard to avoid.

I had thought the moment I moved out of the apartment Alex and I used to share that all old wounds would feel healed. I had thought leaving New York City would dissipate all the aches in my bones. Every absence was fleeting. However, I needed to go somewhere that didn't feel so loud.

I settled in New Lebanon, New York for two weeks. It was cooler than the heated cemented city. The house I stayed in was an old sawmill with a garden and stream nearby. Since I was staying there alone, I only had make-believe to keep me company. It wasn't the healthiest but it made for good writing.

It also forced me to learn how to cook because there were very few places to eat. Alex called me when I was in the middle of making pasta. I had just gotten a new phone (my first iPhone, the 5) and had yet to transfer all the contacts. 

I picked it up and felt like an old lady with my inability to pick up the call. "Hello. Who is this?"

I knew it from the chuckle alone. "We've really fallen out enough that you don't remember my name."

"Oh." I embarrassingly laughed. "Hey, you. I've just gotten a new phone. It's Apple. The new one. I'm feeling very posh right now. I'm cooking dinner."

"You're cooking?" It's like we had skipped thirty chapters. I had broken up with my boyfriend, started therapy, temporarily moved out of New York City, learned to cook, got a new phone, and learned how to do a cartwheel since we last talked. I had yet to register all of it too.

"Yeah. I've got a house too. Well, temporarily. I'm in New Lebanon, New York. It's a writing retreat. A personal one with no other writers."

"That sounds nice. You've always liked seclusion. You've got chickens too?"

"No. It's making me want to get a dog. Or a cat. Or maybe a cow. You'd hate it here."

"Why?"

"It's quiet. You're alone with your thoughts the whole time."

"Yeah. I would hate it." He grew quiet, like he believed I could read his thoughts across the call line. I probably could. Something along the lines of terror and isolation. He wracked through so much and tried to bleed the rest of it out.

I switched. "It's also home to the Shaker movement."

"What's that?"

"It's these Christians that don't have sex so they don't have babies and they've pretty much all died out but three. I've been to the museum here way too many times because there's nothing else to do."

"You thinking of joining?" He posed.

It would make for an interesting experience. If I ever ran out of topics to talk about I might vow to the Shakers in hopes of getting another book out of it. "At this rate, I might as well. Everyone is either married or dying out here." 

"You can't do that,” he insisted. “It would be a loss to humanity."

"Me having sex?" It was crossing a line. He had a girlfriend and was my ex-boyfriend and I was lonely and thinking about taking a lifelong vow of celibacy. 

He avoided. "Where's Jackson?"

I sighed and stirred a fork through the boiling noodles. "We broke up a few months ago. Nothing big. We're going to stay friends and all that." I said it not quite believing it, dripping my words with sarcasm.

He plainly said, "Sorry about that."

"Eh," I voiced, "what can you do? Que sera, sera is my new motto. I'm becoming a housewife to myself."

An ugly snort sounded through the phone. "Are you high?"

I giggled. "No. This is what happens when I'm left alone in nature for too long. I'll be joining a nudist cult soon. What about you and Arielle?" 

"Fine. You know, I'm touring and all that." He didn’t talk about her with me ever, which was the appropriate thing to do, but I took it as a sign that they were like Jackson and me: never seeing one another and on the edge of a breakup. 

"I know," I said. "How's that going?"

"Good. We're having fun."

"I'm liking the new stuff."

He was short and wanted to change the topic quickly. "Thanks." He was evasive. I don't know what that meant about the subject matter of "Do I Wanna Know?" and I won't write who he had in mind when his pen hit paper. But I have written the history here and you can deduce what you want.

"How's your new material?" He asked. I couldn't remember the last time I had sent him any of my writing. Our art had become separated. He didn’t ask for my opinion. I didn’t ask for his. I think that’s when our relationship died. We were so attached through our love of creating and not sharing that with one another was proof that whatever was left was necrosing.

"Fine, I think. Just short stories for now. I don't know what else to write. Nothing much has happened."

He outwardly laughed. "Seems like a lot has happened."

"Maybe. It doesn't feel like it." He was on the outside looking in, but from within, everything played out slowly, and it all went down in an inevitable nature.

"I get it. I'll leave you to dinner."

So, we faded away from one another once again. We were barely a blip on one another's radar. I went back to the city and lived with Fennel and Kaka until I was done "figuring everything out." I wondered why Alex had called me. If it was just to catch up or he had something to tell me. Despite my loneliness and desperation, I never called Alex. He was always the one reaching out.

I submitted the collection of short stories to my new agent and began renting a studio apartment in Downtown Brooklyn. I began writing freelance again to exercise my writing muscle and get the additional paycheck. 

The night AM was released I listened to it and tried my best not to dissect it. My brain imagined who the muse of the songs but when the album finished I went to bed and decided that all it would be to me was an album. It was nothing more than a collection of good songs.

The Monkeys passed through a week later and I got a text from Katie that we should get lunch. I had a meeting with my agent then so she asked if I wanted to go to the show. I liked the idea of it. Of just being able to enjoy the music again, but I knew my presence didn't exhibit that. I went anyway.

I tugged Opal along with me and we went to Webster Hall. We would enjoy the show. I would get drinks with Katie and that would be it.

It was wishful thinking that I didn't even believe in. I enjoyed playing with fire too much for that to be the case. 

I sat on a couch with Opal squished next to me. Alex sat in a chair to my side and we knocked knees with one another. "When I moved I found all those guitar picks that you misplaced," I told him. I held some drink and leaned on the arm of the couch. "They were behind the couch and under the bed. I found one in one of the kitchen drawers."

He plucked a smile and fell further back in his chair. "Yeah, I was never good at keeping track of those."

"I know," I laughed at him. "I lived with you. It was very annoying."

"I probably left that one in the drawer just to annoy you. I did that sometimes."

I crossed my brows and faked a sternness. “You enjoyed pissing me off?”

He took a deep breath and sank back in his chair. “Well…” He didn’t say anything else. Our conversation conjoined with the group’s and we never discussed how much meaning sat in that single word. Well.

As my time apart from Alex grew, I wondered how much of him I truly knew. He had these secrets he buried deep. Those guitar picks were tokens for me to collect. It was his own game he never told me about. He got a kick out of getting a rise out of me in the same way as when he would call me posh just to get an eyeroll. More and more I felt Alex to be a closed book that I only got to experience a few pages of.

The night grew later and we didn’t feel the need to linger. I felt the doors closing. I felt a need for it to be over. When we got on the subway home, I didn’t know when I would see Alex again. I didn’t know if it would be next year or another decade but I knew it wouldn’t be either of us reaching out. We would run in the same circles. Weddings, birthdays, babies, but we wouldn’t share those with one another. We wouldn’t be plus ones and we wouldn’t be giving presents to one another.

We said goodbye with a wave. I felt stupid for going in the first place. There was a feeling I had held onto what could have been for long enough. When I went to bed that night, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t think about Alex. There was no pit. I didn’t do anything wrong. It just wasn’t right. I was comfortable. 

When I spoke with Alex, every word was spoken with a tinge of hesitance. I was holding myself back. I couldn’t live in that awkwardness and I don’t know why I was fighting for so long to be able to do that. I had invaded his territory for nothing but a few words and a drink. I had surrendered now. Happily.

*

a/n: well, sorry for the wait, followed by the shortness, but i suppose the length illustrates the point. the next part will be much longer and much sooner. i'm luckily in the writing spirit (for now). thanks for reading!

[mzannthropy]

Anne of the Island Chapter 3

"Greeting and Farewell" encapsulates this chapter well.

Nothing's more annoying than rain on the day you're travelling, but rain at the beginning of September feels like goodbye to summer.

And really, idk what LMM's intentions with Dora were, and not like the narrative was ever favourable to her, but I'm certainly not gonna hate on her. She was always a quiet girl who minded her own business, almost as if she went out of her way not to be a bother to people. Maybe she was taught by her mother that a lady should not show emotions? (idk just guessing). Why is LMM so determined to make it look like Dora is not sorry that Anne is leaving? And so what if she likes her poached egg on toast, must she starve herself? Enjoy that breakfast, girl. Davy throws a tantrum, of course, but I wonder if Dora behaved that way, how tolerated it would be. The funniest thing is that Dora is exactly the sort of girl Marilla wanted Anne to be. And yet it's still not good enough... (Villain arc for Dora, NOW.)

Even Gilbert’s presence brought her no comfort, for Charlie Sloane was there, too and Anne and Gilbert were left alone on deck. “I am very glad that all the Sloanes get seasick as soon as they go on water,” thought Anne mercilessly. “I am sure I couldn’t take my farewell look at the ‘ould sod’ with Charlie standing there pretending to look sentimentally at it, too.”

You're killing me, Lucy Maud. This is perfect. I love that Anne doesn't lie to herself about this matter. This is the third chapter in a row that Gilbert serves as comfort to Anne.

"I wonder if Davy has come out of the closet yet." I wonder what LMM would think if she learned what this phrase means in current times.

Priscilla feels almost like an angel in this chapter. Anne is so lucky to have a friend at Kingsport; coming to a new place so far from home where she doesn't know anyone--plus the fact that it must be a fairly big town while she's lived in the countryside--is an unsettling experience. "Miss Hannah gravely told me we could have ‘young gentlemen callers’ two evenings in the week, if they went away at a reasonable hour" idk what it is but I find this line to be so amusingly sweet. Very old school classy, if you know what I mean.

Must I really shake hands with Charlie Sloane, Anne?

All the girlies hate Charlie Sloane, lol. But Priscilla saying that Gilbert "has grown in the past year" feels a bit weird--like she must be the same age as him. It's something your mum would say.

Calmly and sensibly ging to sleep is the best solution for anything, I swear. It must have been a long journey. They arrived at Kingsport at 9pm, and Anne had to wake up at dawn, that's a long day. Also she took several modes of transport - a buggy, a train, a boat, another train and a cab. She would be exhausted.

Looking forward to tomorrow's chapter!

[callistocalavarni]

Aphrodite, as well as deciding when and where

I just want to say, this is more for me than it is anyone - take what you want and leave what you don't want. I'm not here to narrate your life. I just like talking into the void of the internet.

There was a different form of consciousness I went to when I was a child. I was young when this happened, I barely remember what was going on. I was at this sand temple, there were others for brief moments. It was a beautiful and sentimental place. I really only remember the emotion tied to it. Confusion, despair, survival but not at the deepest level. Maybe it was a shift, maybe it wasn't. I was too young to figure it out. I still wonder what significance it has, why was I there, what part of my mind wanted me to go. Maybe it was a past life. I’ve lived a lot of lives and I think I’m ready to permashift. Of course in the future I will decide where - right now I still want a little more time. I already said I would permashift and I did leave for a while but eventually came back. I'm not very good at expressing what I have lived and when I do I end up hating the way I phrased it,, But now I have an idea on how I want to do it for the future.

It feels as if i'm at a crossroad, many paths and outcomes will always be there for me.

A couple years ago around Christmas I bought an alice and wonderland tarot deck. Even though this was a long time ago I’m still getting the hang of reading cards, but I have learned a lot since using them. I’ve always loved Alice, around that time I had set out to watch every variation of the story. I watched the Czech one; Alice 1988. I don’t think I finished it but I got a good way through and the film amazed me with how surreal it was. I’m pretty sure everyone can see that, that story and shifting are related in a way. This was also the time where I had really gotten into Greek mythology and Hellenic views. I’m not a master in it and prefer to follow the gods of my Lumari dr - but this was before I shifted there. Now, I work with Aphrodite as well as my own gods. One Friday I sat down and did a reading with her. I wanted to make a waiting room. I don’t remember exactly what I had asked her but her answer was clear. Shifting does not require a waiting period, it doesn't need a bridge or a state of if. Just do it as soon as you'd like, go where you want as soon as the thought pops into your head. There is no need to flesh the idea out completely. A few words and visual ideas is all I really need; If I find myself scripting too much it's like the reality becomes something entirely different from what I wanted. Even though I have found that this works for me I still fail to give into the urge to shift as soon as the motivation clings to me. I’m a major procrastinator, it’s a flaw I’m working on. I have success with shifting to random realities, ones that I think of in a quick moment, and then decide I want to be there. I hate being picky, I’m conflicted with uncertain people. Just go, your subconscious is not actively out to get you. It’s not something to be scared of. That’s how I came to the way I view shifting now, also I think tarot is a way to bring out your subconscious beliefs. 

[quillusquillus]

How 2 Phone

I often see my fellow neurodivergent and/or younger friends absolutely crippled by the inability to make even simple phone calls, and it was perplexing to look at myself and find that for the most part- despite all traits indicating I SHOULD struggle with this too (as I struggle deeply with in-person convos)- I do not. Then I realised that this is because at a very young age my mum sat me down and TAUGHT me how to do it, step by step, so I'm going to relay what she taught me and hope it will help somebody the way it helped me.

DISCLAIMER: this was learned originally in the context of the UK and it's something I still use effectively for german calls in Switzerland. I don't know what americans do maybe they have secret phone codes I don't know, adapt as needed I guess

---

First thing to remember is that, if you are calling some kind of office or support or business or organisation of any kind: they are doing this ALL DAY, even if you fuck up as spectacularly as it's possible to fuck up and stumble over every single word, you are still just a blip in their workday of many many many calls. they will not care.

Second thing to remember is that because they're doing these calls all day, all they actually want from you is the information to complete the task you give them. You don't have to be a ~conversationalist~ or even particularly friendly. Generally speaking you can just apply the following template to every call, and just be a very basic level of not-rude and say your thankyous and that's all you need

Third thing: Though not necessary, it's useful to develop a "phone voice" where you sit up straight and speak extra clearly and brightly, like you're in a theatre play. This makes you easy for the other person to understand (especially on bad lines), and reminds you that it's all a repetitive sequence of lines like a script and this is NOT a social situation.

THE TEMPLATE:

(a possible step 0 is getting through the auto line, which is just pushing buttons so I'm gonna assume we've got through that already as well as the deep fried hold music and a real person has now answered the phone)

"Hello, my name is [firstname lastname] and I'm calling because [reason]." --- Reason for this step: they need your name because they need to know how to address you on the call, and telling them the context for the call will help them know what to do next. They too have "templates" and have usually done them many many times, they just need to know which one they need to select for this call. I say this exact phrase the same way every time I make a call like this: a strong opener can help your confidence and you can practice it off call if you like. Don't treat it like a conversation, just say the whole thing and move to step 2

Stop and wait for instructions and/or questions --- Reason for this step: Now it's the other person's turn to figure things out, and you are in the passive role. This is when you get asked things like customer number, date of birth, doctor's name etc., all the things that they need to look up on their computer. This will go on until they have all the details they need and then they will move to the next step.

They will ask you again about your reason for calling, answer in exactly the same way as before or go into greater detail as needed. --- Reason for this step: The first time you did this was like the movie trailer that let them vaguely know what to expect, this one is where you have their full attention and they will begin to handle your task. You didn't mess up the first time they just needed to get all their questions out of the way first and are now clear for your queries.

More details, figuring out stuff, getting transferred --- This is the most chaotic and unpredictable step because it will be different for every call and varies depending on what you're trying to do. Good luck, and repeat steps 2 and 3 as needed (or start again from 1 if you get transferred)

When done, they will ask you "is there anything else I can help you with?" --- Reason for this step: Sometimes people will call with several things they want to do at once (open a credit card account AND check their balance, for example) and so this is part of their call template. Feel free to give this a few seconds of consideration: I like to pretend to think even when I know I have nothing, because sometimes I DO randomly think of a question I'd like to ask, or it's just a nice cooldown moment to gather my thoughts. A common question I find myself asking is "do I need to bring anything?" for when I make appointments. 99.9% of the time I don't need to bring anything, but having the confirmation of "no, you don't" gives me some extra peace of mind.

"Okay, thank you very much, have a nice day!" --- Reason for this step: This lets them know that you're going to end the call, and they'll respond in kind and (usually) hang up first. Sometimes they may jump in with a "you may receive a rating form/call/whatever to rate the service you received on this call", just let them get this out of the way (they are required to say it), say "okay, thank you, I will!" and repeat your goodbye a second time. This closing farewell is another thing you can say exactly the same way every time, and you can practice off call if you like.

That's it! In my experience very very few official phonecalls will deviate from this format, and even if the person on the other end is being unusual you can generally just barge ahead and impose it on them and they will fall in line lol

[butwhatifidothis]

Nice blog you have hear. Your VW rewrite is great and I adore the idea of a Claude-Rhea rapport, but there's one thing I'm struggling to understand.

How is Claude becoming tolerant of the church--an institution mostly run by white people--in VW any different to Nader being scolded by Lorenz about the Almyrans' behaviour in GW (from what I've seen--I have no intention of playing Hopes ew)? Especially since Rhea's need to hide her identity is a more abstract exploration of othering compared to Claude's which is more grounded in reality, thus running the risk of making their (personal) connection problematic.

(If you don't want to answer this publically, please make a post saying so and I will come off anon.)

Hm. I don’t think I quite understand the comparison being made here.

Claude becoming tolerant of the Church would be a result of the Church itself being tolerant to outsiders and foreigners, at least per my rewrite that you're referencing. He is accepting of a good institution doing good things that he already agrees are good things, with no requirement of the "mostly run by white people" institution telling him these are good things.

Meanwhile, in Hopes, you have it to where Nader - a POC man - is turned into someone who enjoys pillaging conquered lands, when that has never been established in his character before. Building onto that you have Claude - a man of the same POC race as Nader - saying nothing against him doing this; he is either enabling Nader, or is outright also fond of/okay with pillaging conquered lands. It is only Lorenz - a white man - who steps up and reels Nader back in a good moral line. It would have been one thing had Claude been the one reprimanding Nader, or even showing disappointment in specifically Nader doing this (which would indicate it's a pattern of behavior for specifically Nader), but him saying nothing at all speaks volumes on how Almyra's culture seems to be like. These are two out of a whopping four Almyran characters we ever see (when counting Cyril, even though he explicitly doesn't adhere to much of Almyra's culture), meaning that half of the game's known Almyran characters participate in or otherwise allow for pillaging.

I don't mean to be rude, but what you are trying to compare are two entirely different scenarios. Claude accepting an mostly-white-run institution being open to outsiders/foreigners is... not the same as him and Nader being used to paint Almyra as a pillaging bandit continent that have to be calmed down by the good white man. Not to be rude, but I'm having a hard time understanding the point trying to be made here.

Nor do I really understand what you mean by "Rhea's need to hide her identity is a more abstract exploration of othering compared to Claude's which is more grounded in reality, thus running the risk of making their (personal) connection problematic." Rhea's need to hide her identity is... absolutely not abstract. Like, at all? The most "abstract" thing about it is that she's a nonhuman entity, but pretty much every else aligns almost perfectly with Claude's need to hide his identity. They both experience the following:

A sense of being unable to truly trust/open up to those around them due to how they've been treated because of their race

A real, logical, physical danger that looms over them should their identities be revealed too callously and to the wrong people

Being seen as strange and untrustworthy in extremely large part due to how they come off because of them hiding their identities

While the depths of Rhea's trauma includes far more immediate tragedy than Claude's, both experience very similar feelings because of what they went through. I don't see what risk would be ran should they be written to have a personal connection to one another?

Again, sorry if I come off rude or standoffish, but I genuinely do not get what you're trying to say here

[3v3rl4stingbr4in]

Hi. Is this anything.

At first, Vere would make more sense but I think it would be more funnier if it is Leander getting headlocked by Ais.

[bthump]

I’m sorry maybe I’ve misinterpreted your posts, but to clarify: Griffith selling his body to Gennon you consider rape/SA, but Grifith forcing himself on Charlotte is just "having sex"?

I'm gonna take this in the best faith possible and assume at some point I referenced one or both of these without an accompanying explanation or link to one, so here:

charlotte

gennon

That said, two things:

a) if you've already read those or similar explanatory posts and still sent this then there's no real point in engaging because we're coming at this from two different incompatible angles and I can't have a productive discussion with someone who responds to the characters as if they're real people when I'm talking about narrative framing, thematic resonance, and authorial intent.

b) I hope you didn't mean to imply that you think an adult having sex with a prepubescent child can be consensual. I can respect the position that they're both rape, even if I think that ignores the aforementioned narrative framing themes and authorial intent, but if you think I got it backwards then yikes.

[andiv3r]

Having to block everyone who has "wincest dni" in their bio not because I ship wincest (because I have come to the conclusion that I actually don't) but because I do think it'd be fun to poke around at the very real weirdness of their relationship that I've noticed in the show so far. And I'm 99% sure that my poking around will get seen as shipping.

[astradyke]

being very truthful i wasn't feeling particularly positive about the trailer for TIT (still bought tix though hi nyc <3) and am holding out hope they do a little more teasing for what this tour is actually about in future videos,

but i cannot deny that this specific frame of it

("we basically raised half of them." - phil)

like very specifically got me? like obviously yes the bit is like, they're our dads i started watching them age twelve et cetera but. i don't know. with the way all of this is laid out, the contrasting colors that blend together and the silhouettes on their respective sides (as we always view them, dan to the left & phil to the right) and the screens, it says so loudly like... it's dan and phil, side by side. it's the two of them. it's been them for the last fifteen years.

it's a we, it's a testament that this kinda sacred thing of 'dan and phil' has lasted a really long time, and survived a hiatus, solely because dan and phil themselves have known each other and existed alongside each other for those fifteen years. and yes, obviously, this trailer is all scripted, but this exchange still has this feeling of it being about them, not just their brand together-- they aren't really talking to the audience, here, are they? it wasn't solely 'dan and phil' content that raised the audience; dan and phil did. (maybe a redundant point, but i am working off of the negative space here. a lot of this feels like intertwining themselves with their online personas, and simultaneously walking that line. letting us see only what they want to be shown, and now examining that introspectively).

i hope that makes sense, i'm not much of an analyst or theorist. i don't know what the dan and phil renaissance really is yet, and i am a bit afraid of it all, but i'm really excited, both for everything that's to come but also -- more importantly -- i'm just fucking excited for them.

for this bond between them and the phandom to blossom in the healthy ways it has been lately, for the opening of new doors amidst this phan renaissance... and for them to take back what the internet took from them.

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

men are so disappointing in so many ways i know i shouldn't expect most of them to be dignified humans but it's crazy. i need to get over this guy he's making my sense of self crumble even faster than it usually does. like he's just so unlike my usual type and i'm pretty convinced he's stupid and slutty and not discerning whatsoever. not to mention boring like i know even if i did have a chance with him he wouldn't Get Me at all so it's a bigger waste of time that usual and i'm actually pretty tired of men in general and definitely tired of parasocial relationships because they drive me insane for months typically. thankfully it's only been like 2 weeks if that at this point. idk. sigh. i know literally virtually nothing abt him as a person and ofc liking any public figure who you know nothing about is only setting yourself for heartbreak and disappointment to begin with bc you already know nothing is gonna come from it but. in a way it's almost addictive to become obsessed with someone and not be looked at with the same level of scrutiny. i don't think anyone in real life would ever try to get to know me as much as i try to get to know people who i'll never even meet. lmao! but that's the thing... idk... i have a lot of love in my heart and it consumes me and i reject my pride usually when i'm into someone. i want to know more... like VORACIOUSLY consuming anything with information about them involved simply because i think knowing someone is a very deep form of love but of course you can never truly know anyone. not completely. and that scares me i think which is why it's always probably been easier for me to never really TRY to be with anyone or have anything real. idk. this turned into me psychoanalyzing myself real quick but SOMEONE needs to bc i need to understand what the fuck is wrong w me.

[sainz100]

2024 Las Vegas GP ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ by Irwen Song

[leatherbookmark]

Every once in a while there will be a blogger I'm not following, but whose posts I know and whose blog I visit from time to time. They can either be a generally popular user, a fandom-popular user, a mutual-in-law, or simply someone whose posts I've seen reblogged by other blogs I visit. You know how it is on tumblr dot com.

Anyway, impressing me -- and at the same time making me take you for a Cool Person Who Knows Things, And Whose Opinions Are Important And I Should Defer To Them -- is only a little bit harder than biting into an overcooked noodle, or accidentally stepping on an ant. So, I'll often admire these people from afar and feel sad and inadequate if we disagree on something, or of they criticize something I think is fine (especially if they do it without giving a reason, like 'well, it goes without saying that X simply sucks').

However -- sudden salvation -- every once in a while this blogger will have an opinion that's so nonsensical, or they'll behave in a way that's so unnecessary hostile to someone who doesn't really deserve it, that it's honestly both sad and surprisingly relieving to me because ohhhh okay you're just a fucking asshole. You're not a special, sophisticated mini-god, you're just an asshole who's mean for no reason. Phew! Aaaaand block.

[thedawningofthehour]

Finally back to working on the fic again and I just want you all to know that the entire time period the next two chapters encompass, Bella is face-down on her mattress hungover af and completely passed out the entire time.