#remember when i started it in september and thought it would be very quick

[nettlestingsoup]

so i’m essentially adding an entire chapter to songs from within birdcages to fix the truly abysmal pacing (this is in chapter six; i may yet add more extra scenes in later chapters where i was clearly in a rush to get the story finished) and since this is delaying posting it horribly i’m posting an excerpt from a new scene as an apology. i promise this fic will be up in february or march if it kills me <3

“You’re a Zeta, aren’t you?” Chan asks, and Minho nods. The logo has long-since vanished from his synthetic skin – with the help of Seungmin and some carefully applied acid, as far as Chan knows – but it doesn’t change the fact that Minho was still built on Zeta’s production lines, and sold in one of their warehouses. It doesn’t change the fact that if anyone from Zeta found him, they’d study his modifications as carefully as possible before incinerating him, and the next line of Zeta med-bots would be just that bit more perfect; utterly unmodifiable, and incapable of growing beyond their careful lines of code. Something like Minho – something beautiful, and unique, and definitely harmful to Zeta’s profits – would never exist again.

“Seungmin’s optical implant is, too,” Minho adds. “And a few other internal pieces.” His expression darkens a little, brows pulling into a perfectly symmetrical frown. “They would have taken him apart to get to them if they’d caught him. And he’s still mostly organic. It would have been… a mess.”

Chan shudders a little at the thought. Minho often makes jokes about being disassembled for parts, something casual in the way he speaks of being torn to pieces when he knows that he can simply be rebuilt. Seungmin can’t, though. Seungmin could bleed out on an operating table, his own blood filling up his lungs and covering the floor, and no amount of time spent carefully sewing him back together would ever be enough.

[butlervol6]

positive | dad(to be) austin x reader

previous part here!!

pairing: austin x fem!reader

summary: trying for a baby isn’t always easy, especially when you keep getting negative tests. austin and reader remind themselves, and each other, to keep positive over the course of the first few months of trying. 

warnings/notes: negative pregancy tests, mild sadness/crying, mentions of periods, very mildly suggestive at one point, and tw for v*mitting!! im finally back!!! i missed you all so much, my life has actually been insane the last few months and it seems like im finally catching a break so i can write again. im so so thankful for all the love and support on my writing so far and im so excited to finally get this part out for yall! ENJOY PT 3!!!!

words: 2.8k

You knew when you started trying to get pregnant that it could be a long process. As someone who could be easily disappointed you knew it was important to prepare yourself and, before you got the first negative test, you thought that you had adequately done so. 

month 1-September 2021

It was the day before your period was due to start at the beginning of November, the first time taking a test after you and Austin had begun trying to get pregnant. Austin was sitting on the couch downstairs, strumming absentmindedly on his guitar while an old movie played on the tv, when you quietly closed and locked the ensuite bathroom door. You had just come back from brunch with a couple friends, also stopping on the way home to pick up a box of pregnancy tests, and told Austin you were just ‘running upstairs to change�� so he wouldn’t suspect anything. Before taking the test, you closed your eyes and internally reminded yourself not to get your hopes up, though you could still feel the buzz of excited anticipation. After taking the test, setting it on the counter and washing your hands, you allowed your mind to wander. You imagined how excited Austin would be when you showed him the test and how you would reveal to the world that you were going to be parents. You turned to the side to gaze at your stomach in the mirror, imagining a bump containing your tiny growing baby. 

When the timer finally beeped, you were quick to pick up the test, expecting to be faced with two bold red lines. When there was only one, you immediately felt the disappointment set it. You tried turning the test side to side, using your phone flashlight—anything to try and identify the missing line. After a couple of minutes,  it was clear that the test was negative and your sadness hit like a freight train. 

Tears freely flowed down your face and you knew that the only way to feel better would be to talk about it with Austin. For this reason, you decided to just head downstairs and find comfort in your blissfully unaware husband, still strumming on his guitar. 

“Baby, come ‘ere. What’s wrong?” He quickly placed his guitar to the side and opened his arms, which you immediately fell into.

“I wanted to surprise you because I thought it would be positive but it wasn’t.” You sniffle with your head tucked into his neck, pulling the test from your pocket and holding it out to him. He takes it, glancing at it and quickly setting it aside, pulling you even closer. His arms were warm and tight around your frame, “I’m just disappointed.”

He maneuvers your head from his neck, brushing your hair out of your face and kissing both your cheeks, “It’s okay to be disappointed, I’m sorry I wasn’t with you when you took it. Just try to remember that this is just the first test baby.” You nod at him, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks, 

“I know, I know. I just really thought I was so it took me off guard.” You blow out a breath before continuing, “It’s just not the right time, when it is then it’ll happen.” Austin smiles lovingly at you, tilting your face up to place a gentle kiss on your lips,

“Exactly. We just need to keep positive in the meantime.” You smile back at him, his encouraging words making you feel better. “Plus, this just means we get to keep trying. Don’t you love trying? I know I do.” He squeezes your hip and leans in to leave sloppy kisses along the skin of your neck and chest. You giggle, threading your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck to pull him harder against you. You feel his lips pull into a smile momentarily against your skin before continuing to mark you,

All you can manage before you pull him up and crash your lips against his is, “Well, that, mister, is a great point.”

month 3- December 2021

It was a few days before Christmas and you were, understandably, stressed. Last minute shopping, baking, wrapping and packing for visiting Austin’s family over the holidays filled your days. It was as you were putting the last tray of gingerbread cookies in the oven that Austin entered the kitchen, your phone in his hand and his hair still wet from his shower,

“Here darlin’,” He hands you the phone, fluidly reaching around you to press start on the oven timer for the cookies and kiss the side of your head, “It was vibrating on the bathroom counter, figured it was important.”

You took the phone, thanking your husband, and tapped the screen to check your notifications. There was a text from Austin’s sister confirming holiday plans, a couple of emails you noted to go delete later and a message from your period tracker app. Since trying to get pregnant you had been using the tracker more than ever, for figuring out when you are ovulating and also when to test. After the last two months of negatives you had neglected to check your app as much, meaning that you didn’t really know where in your cycle you were. 

You unlocked your phone, opening the app to check the notification, and were met with a pop-up stating that you were three days late–a notification you had set up when you and Austin decided to start trying but had never recieved in the months previous. You were momentarily taken off guard, reaching back to grip the counter top you were leaning against. Austin, still in the kitchen, glanced over at you,

“What’s goin’ on?” He stood from his seat at the kitchen island, coming to stand next to you and peers at your phone, “Oh–does that mean…?” You look up, meeting his eyes. You can tell there is an excitement in them so you choose your words carefully, 

“I–uh, I’m not really sure. I mean I’ve been late before and not been pregnant…and I have been stressed with everything going on so it could just be that.” He listens intently to your words, his thumb and finger pinching and prodding at his bottom lip anxiously,  “But, I could test just so we know for sure?” His eye light up at your suggestion, nodding enthusiastically. You softly smile at him, “Alright, but I need to finish baking and I really should finish packing and we also have a few more gifts to wra–” Austin grasps your face between his hands, 

“Baby, it’s okay. We can do it whenever you’re ready.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips, pulling back and smiling at you before busying himself with cleaning up your baking mess. You can’t help at smile to yourself, taken with just how kind and caring your husband always is. 

                                                             …

After hours of doing the many tasks that needed completing, you finally had a free moment to take the pregnancy test with Austin. He leaned against the counter, reading from the large instructional booklet in his hands from the pregnancy test box–as if you hadn’t taken many before– when you entered the ensuite bathroom. Without looking up, he held out the unwrapped test to you. You took it from him, ripping the package open and threw it in the trash. Austin still hadn’t looked up, fully engrossed in his reading,

“Love, you do know there isn’t going to be a quiz? You don’t need to memorize everything on that paper.” He looked up at this comment and regarded you with faux annoyance,

“Ha Ha, you think you’re so funny hm?” You nodded at him, a smug smile on your face, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile. As much as you were teasing him about it, you found it endearing that he was so interested. “Alright, now go pee.” He gestured toward the test in your hand. It was your turn to laugh at him and his bold declaration, making your way to the toilet while he went back to his reading,

“Okay okay, I’m going you impatient man.” You pulled down your leggings, sitting down and uncapping the test, watching as Austin went right back to the place he had left off in the booklet. You shook your head at him and began to reach the test between your legs when you caught sight of a familiar red stain. You had felt pain in your back for a couple of hours but assumed it was because you had been on your feet all day doing chores, not because you had–finally– started your period. You thought you would be disappointed but instead you felt a laugh bubble up and out before you could stop it, “Um…Aus?”

“What baby?” He looked over at you, immediately noticing the crimson against the light pink fabric of your underwear. Surprisingly, he too chuckled to himself, crossing his arms over his chest, “That’s just our luck isn’t it?” He reached under the sink, grabbing you a tampon and an extra pair of underwear from the stash you kept with your period supplies to hand to you. You were momentarily surprised that he wasn’t at all disappointed and couldn’t help but vocalize that,

“You’re not upset?” You began cleaning yourself up, still sat on the toilet and, if it had been anyone else, you would’ve felt strange having such casual conversation while you were doing so. But not with Austin, who replied just as casually,

“Well, I mean maybe a little. But, like I said the first time, it’s just not the time yet. It will be soon enough, and until then I’m gonna keep positive for you and us.” He punctuated his sentence with a kiss before he began to back out of the room with the promise of snacks, a movie and cuddles downstairs once you were cleaned up.

month 5- Februray 2022

By the fifth month, you and Austin had managed to completely eliminated the pressure, and therefore the possibility of disappointment, off of trying to get pregnant. You had both fully come to terms with the idea that your timeline being altered wouldn’t really matter in the long run, either way you would eventually have a child and the time it took to get there would never cross your minds again. Because of this, you decided the month prior that you would stop testing before your period was due to begin as it created more upset than it was worth. If you ended up not being pregnant that month then the arrival of your period would alert you, not a negative test. 

Today was the last day before your period was supposed to arrive for the month and it was the least stressed you had felt since September. Instead of worrying all day about the impending test you would have to take, you were able to bask in the excitement of the first Elvis trailer dropping with your husband. There were phone calls and FaceTimes with Baz, cast and crew, who Austin had become close to during the process, celebrating the positive reception and palpable excitement from the public. This led into days of preliminary, general conversations with managers and agents around press tours and public appearances for the following months. You were so engrossed in it all, excitement buzzing through you as you sat in zoom and phone meetings hand-in-hand with Austin. You, and he, had been so caught up in it all the excitement that a week and a half slipped away without so much as a second thought from either of you. This was until you were making dinner one night and suddenly felt sick to your stomach.

At first you just made your way over to the fridge and got yourself a glass of water, thinking you had just been too busy that day and neglected to keep yourself properly hydrated–a somewhat common occurrence you had been actively trying to work on changing. You swallowed one mouthfull of the cold water and immediately felt your stomach turn, slapping a hand over your mouth and running to the first floor bathroom. Barely making it inside, you double over and empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Austin, having heard the commotion, enters the bathroom,

“Oh my poor girl.” He gently pulls your hair away from your face and rubs a hand along your back. After a few minutes of retching, the nausea passes and you sit down. You lean back against Austin’s legs as he stands behind you, closing your eyes. You hear the sink turn on and off before feeling a cool cloth touch the heated skin of first, your forehead, and then arms, “Think it’s passed now or do you still feel sick?” You open your eyes and look up at him, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours,

“I think I’m done for now. Can you help me stand up?.” He places the cloth he was dragging along your skin down before gently lifting you up. You lean heavily on him, skin still feeling slightly heated and prickily as the last of the nausea still lingers, and he carefully manuvers you to stand in front of the sink. You reach for your toothbrush, about to put it in your mouth but stopping to ask, “Can you get my mug from under the sink so I can rince my mouth? I don’t think I can bend over.” He nods, leaving a hand on your waist as he squats down and opens the undersink cabinet. You brush your teeth quickly, just to get the taste out of your mouth, spitting out the toothpaste when you finish. He finds your mug, placing it on the counter and is about to stand up when when you feel him freeze,

“Baby?” He stands up abruptly, bumping you slightly, causing you to wince from the movement of your body and your weak stomach, “Oh my god, how late are you?” He holds up the box of tampons you had stashed under the sick after purchasing them a couple weeks ago in preparation for your period–the period that was supposed to start over a week ago. You stare at him dumbfounded for a moment, wiping the reminisce of toothpaste from your mouth with the back of your hand and quickly doing the math, before you ask him,

“Do we have any tests left?” He exits the bathroom without responding, heading upstairs to look for the box of tests in your bedroom. Left on your own, you look at yourself in the mirror, searching for any early indicator that you might actually be pregnant. You study your face and your frame, even lifting up your shirt and turning to side just like you did the first month, but, obviously, nothing looks different. 

Austin reenters the room moments later, pregnancy test box in hand and everything happens so fast. The time it takes for you to take the two remaining tests, place them on the sink and set the three minute timer feels like it passes in the blink of an eye. The anxiety is thick in the air as Austin wraps himself around your from behind, rocking the two of you softly side to side with his arms tight around you and his head tucked into your neck, waiting for your three minute timer to beep. You hold tightly onto his arm that’s slung across your chest, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. 

After the longest, most silent, three minutes of your life, your phone loudly signals the time is up and you jump. You feel Austin blow out a breath against you before lifting his head and looking at you through the mirror on the wall in front of you,

“Do you want to look or should I?” You turn around in his arms, carding a hand through his hair for a moment, studying his face, before kissing him softly. When you pull away you don’t answer his question right away, instead you say,

“Positive, right? We just need to keep being positive and everything will be okay, right?” Tears prick the corners of your eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and needing reassurance. You can see his eyes get glassy before he pulls you into a crushing hug, pressing his lips to your forehead over and over. He murmurs against your skin, 

“Yeah my love, everything will be perfect no matter what it says.” You kiss him again before pulling back, wiping your eyes and turning around to the sink where the tests lay. He reaches toward one test while leading your hand to the other, “Together?” You nod, pulling his free arm across your chest again as a comfort. Austin begins to count down from three and you repeat that word in your head like a mauntra,

“3.” Positive. “2.” Positive. “1.” 

You both look down and flip the tests in your hands. Your hand instantly flies to your mouth, dropping the test back onto the counter, as you begin to cry,

“Oh my god, it’s positive!”

taglist: @bcofl0ve @abloversblog 

[ofliterarynature]

DECEMBER 2023 WRAP UP

[loved liked ok no thanks (reread) book club*]

Mixed Magics • Chalice • To Shape a Dragon's Breath • The Haunting Season • Hither Page • The Henchmen of Zenda • System Collapse • The Phantom of the Opera • An Unexpected Peril • A Minor Chorus* • The September House • (The Dream Thieves) • The Fragile Threads of Power • The Pinhoe Egg • (Network Effect) • Some Desperate Glory

total: 16 (audiobook: 12 / ebook: 4)

Happy New Year booklr! Here's to actually getting my last monthly wrap-up post of 2023 out in decent time for once.

Some Desperate Glory - I'm getting myself off to a bad start here because I don't actually remember much from the book and I didn't write a review at the time. oops. But I do remember that once things got going I was hooked, and I couldn't wait to pick the audiobook back up. Definitely some content warnings to look out for, but an incredible read. I definitely need to go back and check out the author's other work.

Network Effect - the last book of my Murderbot reread, still great, glad to have finally read this in a text format! Also better suited to be read *after* Fugitive Telemetry, I wish I'd known to read them in chronological order the first time.

The Pinhoe Egg - a nice wrap up to the main Chrestomanci series! Though if anyone can tell me why on eARTH the 'recommended' reading order is like *that*, please explain it to me. I'd forgotten so many things by the time we got back to Cat, if I ever reread I'm going chronologically.

The Fragile Threads of Power - lord help me, I could do a whole rant. A quick summary of my relationship to this series: loved Shades of Magic when it first came out, did not love/was very annoyed by most of it when I reread them in 2023. Also have not really liked any of Schwab's other work. BUT. I was under the impression that this spinoff would have new main characters, and the old ones would be present but not in the center. If I didn't just make this up, it was LIES. The original MC's still dominate probably at least 60% of the book, and you'd think 7 years in-book and more experience on behalf of the writer would mature them, but a) no, and b) so many goddamn flashbacks. And Kel's assasin-sona was so cringe I wanted to cry. I did actually like the new main character which really is the biggest shame of all. If you see me contemplating the next book please stop me.

The Dream Thieves - I don't know that I have much to add yet to my thoughts about TRB in my Nov post, but I've been having a very strange experience where when I'm actively reading these, I'm having an incredibly good time; when I'm not I completely forget I was reading it. lol?

The September House - this is possibly the closest to my ideal horror book that I've ever found??!!? I have a weird relationship with horror, wherein I am not uninterested, but I almost never enjoy the ones I read (I think it has to do with my irl anxiety, idk). But THIS one. It's such an INCREDIBLE blend of like, mundane horrors and dark humor? I loved it. The "you can live with the horrors if you just follow the rules" is very much my vibe, and the way the author chose to have it integrate with the main character's experiences of domestic abuse was very smart. Deeply enjoyed, but probably won't be a favorite.

A Minor Chorus - this month's book club pick! I really really wish I'd liked this, and I'm torn between "thank god it was short," and "oh I wish this was longer." It's about a queer Indigenous doctoral student in Canada who's somewhat lost his way on his dissertation and is instead writing a novel (maybe), inspired by the stories of people in his community. On one hand, the writing was sometimes very beautiful and the different stories were interesting! On the other, my academic-speak abilities are limited, and the narrator did not hold back. He even explicitly states at one point, oh I can't describe my book this way to [character] because he won't understand my academic language. And...yeah. My brain got a little overwhelmed and I skimmed a lot of those parts. The hopeful part of me thinks if that if the book had been longer maybe I would have had time to "get it," but idk.

An Unexpected Peril - Veronica Speedwell is as Veronica Speedwell does. Had a good time with this even though it's proving to not be the most memorable. Mostly I remember intensely panicking over whether or not V had practiced forging the princess's signature, lol.

The Phantom of the Opera - this was a last minute sub for my classics challenge; I've never seen any of the adaptations, but I happened to see the book on tumblr when I was scrambling for a replacement and thought it might be fun. And it was! Quite ridiculous and dramatic, and I had a good time reading it. I was surprised by the outsider POV on the story, but it was good, just a shame that it didn't allow Christine to tell her own story. If anyone has a Christine-centered retelling I should read, let me know! And are there any adaptations I should watch?

System Collapse - new Murderbot! I was so excited for this, I'm irritated that my brain and work schedule didn't want to cooperate and let me read my nice pretty hardcover; I ended up getting the audiobook from the library instead. I had an incredible time, because it's Murderbot, how could I not? But it's also interesting, because Network Effect felt quite cohesive and contained on its own, but this feels very much like an in-between story (almost like Fugitive Telemetry), rather than a continuation of the same thread. I'll be interested to see where Martha takes us from here.

The Henchmen of Zenda - my last KJ Charles of the year! I did mean to get through all of her books, but things slipped by me these last few months so I still have a couple, but managed to fit this standalone in! It's not the only time she's pulled characters from works of classic fiction, and I admit, I'm now very curious and kind of want to read the original Prisoner of Zenda? Definitely this version had an exciting plot that was fun to read, though I don't think it'll be my favorite of her works (yay for a non-traditional relationship structure tho :)

Hither, Page - I don't think I've read Cat Sebastian before, but I've had this one recommended and it sounds right up my ally - historical/cozy myster/spy shenanigans/gay romance! And it was an incredibly pleasant read, would recommend, but I do think it could have been better as both a mystery and a romance.

The Haunting Season - I almost picked this up in October for spooky season, but put if off for Dec since it's meant to be wintery ghost stories - and only just remembered it in time! I almost wish I hadn't. The first two stories were so meh for me that I almost DNF'd it, I just didn't want the fuss of having to find a new audiobook for work the last day before Christmas break. Luckily Natasha Pulley showed up next with a good story (I really ought to read her books) and there was a good run of 4 stories with another 2 meh to round things out. It wasn't a total loss, but I wouldn't really recommend.

To Shape a Dragon's Breath - If you've seen people singing the praises of this book, they're not wrong! It's a very good if sometimes heavy read, and this is definitely the closest I've gotten to liking a boarding school story since Protector of the Small (I got burned out on them very quickly, lol). It does sometimes read like the debut it is, it's not perfect (lots of infodump speeches, lord save me from the technicalities of alchemy/chemistry, and I would have liked to see more done in her relationship with her dragon), but it's also doing some incredible and unique things that really make me want to see more books in this series and whatever else the author writes.

Chalice - I've read Robin Mckinley before and I've found her work ok, but this one has been repeatedly recommended in the HOTE discord server - I figured it would be a good one to wrap up the year with! And surprise surprise, the fealty-coded discord loves a book about... fealty XD and good stewardship, and magic bees, etc. It's incredibly on brand, and I had a lovely time with this fairy-tale of a book.

Mixed Magics - a collection of Chrestomanci short stories; I actually read one of the stories a few months ago due to the recommended reading order (bleh), and thought it would be fairly simple to finish it off before the end of the year, now that I'd finished the rest of the series. All fun, if not equally interesting, and a nice end to the year. Now I just need to find a new Diana Wynne Jones series to try (not on audiobook, alas, my library is all out of those).

(I did almost consider then binging the Hither, Page sequel on new year's eve, just so I wouldn't split the series, but decided against it :D)

[citrus-cactus]

So, quick question: Do you ever thought headcanoning a birthday for Wallace, Menoa, Maki or Daigo?

(I'm curious because, i don't remember seeing many headcanons about the non-Adv/02 kids when it comes to birthdays...)

Hmm, you know, I never thought about it until I got this ask! I don't have specific-date headcanons for the Original 12, just star signs, so I can take a similar stab at it for the movie characters based on vibes and some of my Very Specific Thoughts about them:

Wallace - Easy! Gemini (late May - late June). Mostly because of the twins thing. But also, in the US, school starts in late August/early September, with the age cutoff for entering a grade being about the same time, which would make him perpetually one of the youngest in his class. I'm projecting a bit based on what I remember from early elementary school, but since kids that age will tease you for just about anything, I think being "the youngest" among his peers would cause him to try to act more mature than he really is, and (maybe) provide some rationale for all that inappropriate flirting he does :) I'm putting that out there only because I headcanon the exact opposite to be true for...

Menoa - Virgo (late August - late September). Conversely, Menoa is perpetually the oldest in her school year, causing her to form the belief about herself early on (coupled with her ability to excel academically and start to skip grades), that she really is more mature than those in her age group (she's not).

Daigo and Maki - Based on this Wikipedia article, I like the idea of giving them birthdays to match the Holy Beast their digimon represent (White Tiger for Baihumon and Yellow Dragon for Fanglongmon. Even though we don't know that that's what Bakumon would have Mega-evolved into, that's my digivolution headcanon). That places Daigo's birthday in autumn and Maki's in midsummer (again, according to Wikipedia). Additionally, the White Tiger is associated with the Metal element, and as I know from Sailor Moon, Venus is the planet of gold/metal (kinsei), making Daigo fit very neatly as a Libra (late September - late October), a star sign ruled by Venus. The Yellow Dragon is associated with the element of Earth, which is a bit trickier, since there's no "Earth" sign in the summer (though, I suppose Virgo technically is) nor one on the zodiac with a ruling planet of Earth. The closest we have is the Moon as a ruling planet... so Maki's a Virgo or a Cancer depending on which path you want to follow. I do like going the opposite and making her born in winter though... Capricorn (late December - late January), makes the most sense to me; I actually like that quite well for her serious, goal-oriented personality.

And while we're at it, Meiko! For my-own-personal-crest-headcanon reasons, she also has to be a Libra. The scales = balance = Mei-mei (to me).

This was fun, thanks for the ask!

[angelicaether]

My Year in Fics

Hey y'all! I thought it would be fun to do a fic round up of sorts and share everything I wrote this year! They're all Redacted but that's cool with me. The channel gave me the gateway to start writing again and I'm very grateful for that. Thank you to all my friends who read and reread snippets of these fics while I lamented over them and thank you to everyone who ever left kudos or commented. I feel like I've improved a lot this year and I'm really excited to keep writing fics! So here we go!

February: Pizza-Flavored Sleep Aid - This was the first fic I ever wrote publicly and it was a Guy fic no less! I'm super happy with this one and I remember being so giddy when it hit 100 kudos - https://archiveofourown.org/works/44749445 Chicken Noodle Soup for the Werewolf Soul - This was the first David fic I ever wrote and I'm honestly really proud with how I was able to keep it in character! - https://archiveofourown.org/works/44885347 March: The Unconventional Love of Telepathy - My one and only James fic. I don't think I was prepared to do a long-form fic when I started this one but I do plan on coming back to it, hopefully soon. - https://archiveofourown.org/works/45327850/chapters/114040867 April: A Pizza Guy, a Telepath's Boyfriend, and a Dreamwalker Walk into a Birthday Party - My fanon Eli/Sunshine meetcute! With the way the series is canonically connected so well I love connecting it further and this was a really fun way to do that! - https://archiveofourown.org/works/46283488 Spark and Bite: A Demon-Vamp Crossover Special - This one pushed me out of my comfort zone for sure. Still I'm proud of it and it's opened the doors for me to write more non-canon ships. - https://archiveofourown.org/works/46710772 May: New Job Posting: WFH Alpha - This was my first explicit smut fic! I was super nervous about it but I think it turned out really well. - https://archiveofourown.org/works/47501410

June: Speak Easy - A tooth rotting fluff fic that was written for myself lol. Writing fics for me and my comfort was a big thing in the second half of the year but I'm glad this one resonated with other people too. - https://archiveofourown.org/works/47660692 Playing with Fire - My first noncanon smut! Really proud of this one and it pushed my limits a bit but its great and I love it. - https://archiveofourown.org/works/48195619 August: A Blue Evening - A really fluffy fic for a friend of mine! First time writing Milo/Sweetheart as well and I'm really happy with it! - https://archiveofourown.org/works/49291093 September: Blood Spilled - My first Imperium fic! Again, pushing my limits with my writing but I cannot express how proud I am of this one. I feel like I managed to make it dark without going overboard and I think I did well with the characterization! - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50070730 October: Here comes the speed round! I made my best attempt at doing Kinktober (I didn't finish it, please forgive me) and I'm really proud of how quick I was able to churn these out. I'm not gonna say much on these other than I'm proud of them lol. "Hole"some | Kinktober Day One | Guy - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50477125 Edging | Kinktober Day Two | Sam - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50503687 Cockwarming | Kinktober Day Three | Geordi - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50546536 Body Worship | Kinktober Day Four | Regulus - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50574829 Food Play | Kinktober Day Five | Kody - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50601892 Predator/Prey | Kinktober Day Six | Vega - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50629297 Begging | Kinktober Day Seven | David - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50663233

Toys | Kinktober Day Eight | James - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50685097 Public Play | Kinktober Day Nine | Milo - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50716444 Petplay | Kinktober Day 10 | Imp!Vega - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50743285 Handjobs | Kinktober Day 11 | Lasko - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50769079 Knifeplay | Kinktober Day 12 | Adam - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50791891 Overstimulation | Kinktober Day 14 | Gavin - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50843248 Cucking | Kinktober Day 15 | Blake - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50870122 Masks | Kinktober Day 16 | Sam - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50923717 NonCon | Kinktober Day 17 | Blake - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50939581 Thigh Riding | Kinktober Day 19 | Aaron - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50965936 Spanking | Kinktober Day 20 | David - https://archiveofourown.org/works/51015925 Breeding | Kinktober Day 21 | Damien - https://archiveofourown.org/works/51208894 December: Last fic of the year! I wouldn't be who I am if it wasn't a David fic lets be honest lol Home Sweet Home - Short, sweet, just how I like my fic. David is my favorite (this is a well known fact) so I'm glad he's how I ended my year - https://archiveofourown.org/works/52071319 Thank you again for everyone who's supported me and my fics this year. I'm grateful for y'all and there's so much talent in this community that continues to inspire me. Happy New Year ^^ -Angel

[iamacolor]

2023 sewing projects - part 2 details at the end of the post (click here for part 1)

Note: I work for a fabric shop so I get most of my fabrics fabric for free as well as some patterns as I have to be wearing our products at work (I definitely consider it a perk). Without this job I would not be sewing as much and I'd probably be buying most of my fabric second hand or on sale as I used to do before. I also sometimes sew during work hours so keep that in mind if you're also a sewist, go at your own rythm 💜 Although I have basic training in pattern drafting I prefer to sew from pre-existing patterns to save on time (as i have to regularly make myself some new clothes for work) and discover new techniques and styles - but I often change stuffs to adapt the designs to my style.

1 - same pants as in part 1 but this time in a double wool crepe from italy (i found it in a charity shop and the border says so in italian - it's absolutely gorgeous, i found 3 pieces of it at once for like 10 € each. I made a dress in the first piece, then these pants in the second)

2 - dream dress in a coton double gauze - the gingham is sized differently on each side of the fabric so i had fun deciding where to put which but i had less fun gathering all of that fabric (the nice thing is it's super light and i get a lot of compliments on it) - the pattern has a short sleeves version that i'd like to make for this summer

3 - a simple tee made in ribbing fabric (usually used for the collar and wrist pieces on sweater) - the pants were made last year but they're the same pattern as the pink ones in part 1, just the slim leg version!

4 - another super quick make in a modal fabric (it's so soft and nice to work with), the last one i made in june before my tendinitis stopped me from touching my machine for a couple of months (and tbh i maybe shouldn't have made this one lol)

5 - first project back on the sewing machine during the summer holidays, very quick one in the remnants of the linen-viscose blend i used to make the matching set in part 1 (can you tell i love this fabric and this colour?)

6 - a mini retro skirt in coton gabardine - the skirt was made to be short and as i'm taller than the average height used in patterns i lengthened it but almost not enough as i ended up having to do a single fold of 1cm to hem the bottom instead of the usual 1 + 2/3 lol

7 - ok so this one...i went in with no pattern and not much thoughts tbh i took this striped fabric and decided to turn thop of the piece into a plain colour by folding it repeatedly so that the folds would reveal the secondary colour by opening - it was super long to make especially because i just cut straight on the side instead of taking into account the fact that I am very much not straight from the waist down to the hips so i had to do a little fixing on the side seams once all the folding and assembling was done before i could put in the zipper. I was very proud of this skirt when I finished it but I've only worn it twice since then (september lol) because it's absolutely awful to iron it (and although i stitched every single fold on one side i still have to press them all one by one)

8 - these curtains are made in a wax fabric given to me by my grandmother who got it from a church friend who brought it from her homecountry in Africa (can't remember where that is, sorry) - they're lined in a dark navy coton so they can be more occulting (the same used at the bottom for the ruffles as the piece of fabric was too small for my curtains to go all the way down). I did this project in an evening so the inside finishes are very rough and i didn't even iron them but i was hellbent on finishing them on the day I started (after months of just having the fabric draped over the window as a makeshift curtain) - it doesn't show too well on the pictures but the darker yellow is actually gold!

[beautifulgiants]

Josh Hartnett Tells Julia Stiles How He Escaped the Hollywood Trap

By Julia Stiles

Photographed by Venetia Scott

Styled by Helga Burrill

August 7, 2024

A bunch of years ago, Josh Hartnett did what any former teen heartthrob burnt out by the Hollywood spotlight would do: He moved to England, started a family, and got some goats. Hartnett never stopped acting, but recently the 46-year-old has worked his way back to the kinds of big-ticket projects that made him a star in the first place, including a surprise appearance in last year’s Oppenheimer. The Hartnettaissance continues with Trap, the latest M. Night Shyamalan thriller that centers around a serial killer taking his daughter to a pop concert, only to realize it’s a setup to capture him. To mark the occasion, we reunited Hartnett with his O costar Julia Stiles, who quickly found out they had a lot of catching up to do.

———

MONDAY 7 PM JUNE 25, 2024 LONDON

JOSH HARTNETT: Hey, Julia!

JULIA STILES: Oh my god! Hello!

HARTNETT: Good to see you. It’s been a long time.

STILES: So crazy. Has it been 24 years?

HARTNETT: Something like that. Thank you for changing this from yesterday. We had something with the kids, and if you listen you can probably hear them screaming because they don’t want to go to bed, because it’s a beautiful summer day and we rarely get these over here.

STILES: The sun’s up later in the day, so they never want to go to sleep.

HARTNETT: Exactly. And you have three kids now?

STILES: I do. You have four?

HARTNETT: I have four kids.

STILES: It’s totally amazing, but all the cliches are true that you’re outnumbered and it feels mathematically impossible sometimes. Then you have four, which is mentally another realm.

HARTNETT: It feels like we’re back in the ’80s. They’re their own little tribe and we just try to maintain the edges so they don’t go too far in any direction. It’s more like herding children now, as opposed to raising them.

STILES: How old is your eldest?

HARTNETT: Eight.

STILES: And you have a baby baby?

HARTNETT: Yeah. Sorry, I’m sweating bullets—it’s actually hot in England for the first time in a long time. I thought it’d be good out here in the conservatory, but I’m going to open a door real quick.

STILES: Did you say “conservatory”?

HARTNETT: [Laughs] I’ve been living with an English girl for 13 years. I speak it fluently now.

STILES: You speak the Queen’s English.

HARTNETT: [Laughs] I’m constantly having to translate from American English.

STILES: Do you get self-conscious living in England when you use words like “awesome”? American words that mean nothing.

HARTNETT: It doesn’t bother me. I actually think I’ve become more American since being here. But I do get really self-conscious about speaking to people in America, and they think I’ve turned—

STILES: Pretentious?

HARTNETT: You know what I’m talking about.

STILES: Yeah. You don’t sound pretentious at all. It sounds like you’re living your dream. I got nostalgic thinking about, “Whoa, what was happening 20-plus years ago when we made O together?” And I sort of remember that you and I were very similar when we were making that film—and you can correct me if I’m wrong, but everybody in that cast was at a time in their career when we were starting to become more recognizable and fame was something that was entering our lives. You and I both had attention that we didn’t know how to navigate. From what I’ve read about you since then, you left L.A. When was that?

HARTNETT: Well, I never really lived in L.A. Even when we were making O, I was in Minnesota, New York, nowhere, because I was living from set to set. I drove my car down from Minnesota to shoot O and then drove back after that. But the choice to step back from the industry had more to do with just plain sanity. In the late ’90s and early 2000s, as you remember, if you were named as one of these interesting people in celebrity culture, it was then the press’s mission to tear you apart. On top of that, I felt like the celebrity culture was really vacuous. I wasn’t going to be on Cribs, you know? I wasn’t going to be doing Punk’d. I wasn’t interested in any of that. I wanted to be myself amongst people that I knew, so I was able to revert back to my family and friends in Minnesota. Also, after a certain amount of time chasing a goal, I realized that achieving these things wasn’t giving me back the satisfaction I hoped it would, so I had to find something else to fill that gap. I felt, and still feel, that community is what fills it. Achievement is great in any walk of life. It’s a reason to get up in the morning. But the thing that really holds you is your community. I felt that I was kind of rootless at that time, so I wanted to find that community.

STILES: What drew you back into performing?

HARTNETT: I never stopped acting. I was doing films that were, in my opinion, worthy, but really small. A lot of first-time filmmakers, people that inspired me. I was really enamored with Tim [Blake Nelson] when we made O. It was his second film and, as you remember, the amount that he had riding on that production heightened the atmosphere. I love working with filmmakers who have it all on the line, because their first may be their last. I was spoiled at an early age in this business, in that the first few independent films I made were successful, so I thought that would maybe always be the case, and it wasn’t. But coming back to making studio films, what happened in all transparency was that we had a couple of kids, so I wanted to establish something that was a little bit more solid. Our business is very kind to you when you’re making big hits, but it can be difficult when you’re not. I realized I had to actually make a job out of this again, as opposed to it being some sort of hobby that I was chasing for years. And I got lucky that a few directors who I knew wanted to work with me. Then it started to snowball, and I’ve been able to work within the studio system again, which is extremely lucky because it doesn’t always work out that way.

STILES: Walk me through when you thought you were going to do Trap. Was it something that you were pursuing, or did you get a phone call, like, “M. Night Shyamalan wants to work with you”?

HARTNETT: Night and I met at The Village premier in New York a hundred years ago. I knew some people who were in it, and somehow I was invited to this dinner afterward. We started talking and got along really well. So when this came up, we got on a Zoom and took a little stroll down memory lane, started talking about the character, and got along really well. He was coming out to Dublin to produce his daughter’s movie The Watchers, so I flew over and we had another discussion. Then it was the strike, so we couldn’t do anything, but because Night finances his own films, we were able to get a special dispensation and got to start shooting in late October.

STILES: Did you enjoy working on it? I mean, every question that I’m asking you, I’m like, “That’s annoying.” I saw you chuckle when I was like, “So you took a step back from Hollywood”—I’ve had people ask me that question, and I laughed too, because I’m like, “Well, no, I did keep working. It was just independent films that nobody saw.” So forgive me for all of these questions that might be annoying, but I’m catching up from 20 years of the lack of Josh Hartnett.

HARTNETT: [Laughs] Don’t worry, ask away.

STILES: I’m jumping all over the place. How did you and Tamsin [Egerton, Hartnett’s wife] meet? Because I love these stories.

HARTNETT: The most Hollywood way imaginable. We played husband and wife in the worst movie either of us have ever made. No offense to the director, it’ll remain nameless. It just got lost in post-production. We were shooting here in London and both had significant others, and both realized that wasn’t going to work because we really liked each other. So I broke up with my girlfriend, she broke up with her boyfriend, and then after we stopped filming, we started to date. But I was living in New York and she was living in London, so we went on a few vacations together. Then she came out to the States and we went on a long road trip where she met my parents and it kept going. And then she kept staying with me and I kept staying with her. We were living a lot of the time between houses together, and then she got pregnant and then we got married.

STILES: Nice.

HARTNETT: How did you meet your husband?

STILES: We met on a set. He was a camera assistant. It was a little indie movie in the snowy mountains in Canada. I was not in a relationship at the time, but the movie ended and he lived in Canada, I lived in New York, and we would go back and forth taking turns, and that went on for a while. Then we were like, somebody’s got to move in with the other person, which country are we going to live in? And it naturally progressed from there. We were engaged, I got pregnant, and then we got married.

HARTNETT: We were engaged when she got pregnant.

STILES: Do your kids come to set with you?

HARTNETT: Sometimes, but they’re in school and we’re in the middle of nowhere, so they’ve got a nice outdoorsy life. We’re not that far from London, so we’ve still got all that available to us. I try to come back more, is what I’m trying to say. So I’ll go to shoot for hopefully only two, three weeks at a time, and then I’ll come back and see them. But they came out for Trap. It’s tough with school. You don’t want them to feel like they’re missing things with their friends.

STILES: Mm-hmm. I bet you can’t answer this, but do you play a bad guy in Trap?

HARTNETT: It’s fairly well documented already, so I think I can say yeah, he’s not a good guy.

STILES: Is he a sociopath?

HARTNETT: Yes. What Night wants to do, and I really appreciate this about him, is that he’ll take any genre and try to come at it from a different angle. In this instance, he’s like, “I want to make a thriller, but one where the person we’re siding with would be the natural antagonist.” That’s the challenge of the piece.

STILES: So when you’re playing a character like that, do you approach it like he thinks he’s the good guy?

HARTNETT: Good doesn’t really enter into it. It’s about what a sociopath sees as a natural thing to do, and that’s not necessarily something that lines up with any sort of morality system writ large. In his own mind, he feels like he’s being honest, and that’s good enough.

STILES: Wow. Do you take that kind of work home with you?

HARTNETT: [Laughs] Not this one, no.

STILES: [Laughs] I don’t mean sociopathic behavior, but when you’re working on a drama or a comedy, for example, there’s a certain energy that you have to maintain all day. So energetically, do you take that home with you?

HARTNETT: By the end of this, I was drained. It was pretty dark. Even the fun stuff, because it is a funny movie, was rooted in a darker psychology. So yeah, going to that place every day does affect you. But when you have kids, you don’t have the luxury of bringing it home too much because they demand certain things and you have to let it go. I’ve had a lot of people ask me about method acting recently. And I was like, “I think it’s fiction.” I think method acting is a joke that some actor came up with.

STILES: To make them feel like they were putting in the work. I’m so glad that you said that.

HARTNETT: Yeah. To make the whole set focus on and be afraid of them so that they’re the one that really matters in the room.

STILES: But yeah, there is something about kids that keeps you moving forward. You come home and you just have to change the subject, which is healthy actually, and probably more creative.

HARTNETT: Absolutely. For anybody in any job, it’s good to be able to fully invest in the work you’re doing and then come home and have somebody pull you out of it. Otherwise, that’s not really a life.

STILES: What do you do on set with all the downtime? Do you have a hobby? I remember during O you had a really nice manual-focus camera.

HARTNETT: Yeah, it was either that or a Rolleiflex. I used to take a lot of photos, and then when everybody got an iPhone and they could do any sort of filter and make their pictures look great, I got discouraged and stopped making my own. But I’m doing it a bit now because my daughter’s really into it.

STILES: You know how much time there is in-between setups. What do you do to pass the time?

HARTNETT: On this one, I didn’t have any free time because I was in everything. And Night wanted me with him the whole time. But the other thing is, with kids, especially if I’m working in the States and they’re going to bed at lunchtime, I’m talking to them a lot on FaceTime. Having four kids and working so much has been really eye opening. I don’t recognize what I must have been going through as a younger person. The amount of time I had to do all sorts of stuff that I was interested in was insane. I don’t know why I didn’t become an architect. I could’ve had 50 degrees.

STILES: Yeah. I was asking because I could never figure out what to do on set. Like, reading would make me sleepy, so I actually stopped hiding. Instead I would hang out on set just to watch what everyone’s doing and chat.

HARTNETT: You were hiding a little bit.

STILES: I think I hid all the way through my twenties and thirties.

HARTNETT: Really?

STILES: I was deceptively shy.

HARTNETT: Yeah. I was always obsessed with the filmmaking culture; I was always kind of there. I’m a little bit less enamored by everything now.

STILES: But the microcosm that everybody creates on a film set is magical. It’s crazy how these mini civilizations form in the span of a couple months or less.

HARTNETT: It’s the circus.

STILES: Yeah. So, have you gotten into British football?

HARTNETT: A little. But I’ve decided that I can’t carpetbag a team, so I’m not like every other American I know who has a club that they care about.

STILES: Do your kids have British accents?

HARTNETT: A hundred percent. I’m a foreigner in my own home.

STILES: You’re the outlier.

HARTNETT: By a long shot. And for a long time, with three girls, I was the only guy, the only American. I’m just way outside of the norm in my family. So we got some goats to deal with that. The goats are more my vibe.

STILES: Oh my god, you have goats! Really living the dream, Josh.

HARTNETT: They’re the sweetest things ever. We got pygmy goats. But I like being the outlier. My wife doesn’t love that the neighbors all call us “the Americans.” She thinks that’s unfair since she’s from here.

STILES: And it’s not a compliment?

HARTNETT: I don’t know if it is.

STILES: Are you feeling a little more relaxed? It sounds like you get your respite and freedom and privacy with home life. When you go and do press for a movie, for instance, do you feel a bit more comfortable with the whole thing?

HARTNETT: Way more comfortable, because it doesn’t define me the way that I felt it used to. When you’re young, as you remember, in this business—

STILES: How dare you?! [Laughs]

HARTNETT: [Laughs] Sorry. But when you’re very young, it’s like you’re trying to find yourself, and the world is telling you what they think you are, and it’s discombobulating. So you’re forced to either fight against or go along with people’s perceptions of you. At this point, there’s inevitably going to be bad shit written, and you’ve just got to let it slide off your back because it’s not the important thing anymore. And you must know by the age of 40 that what matters is what you created in your life. If you don’t, then that’s a problem.

STILES: Well said. You seem like you’ve created this wonderful life for yourself and I’m so happy for you. I’m glad we had the opportunity to talk again. I can’t wait to see the movie and maybe we’ll run into each other in person at some point.

HARTNETT: Yeah. Maybe we’ll be able to work on something when you direct your next film.

STILES: If I ever get to make a second film and there’s a part for you in it, and I call you and you pass on my movie, I will come for you, Josh Hartnett.

HARTNETT: [Laughs] It better be a good role.

STILES: Okay. Challenge accepted.

Grooming: Charley Mcewan using Horace Skincare at The Only Agency. 

Set Design: Lily Purbick.

Photography Assistants: Ryan O‘Toole and Max Kindersley. 

Fashion Assistant: Nina Scott-Smith. 

Production: Daniel Delikatnyi. 

Production Assistant: Morgan Shepherd. 

Post-production: Hempstead May. 

Location: Location Partnership

[catb-fics]

🤰💖 early broody Christmas fic 🎄 I had this one sitting since late September. Much better ones coming.

You and Van had just celebrated your 3 year anniversary when he casually referred you as his wife during dinner out with the crew. It melted your heart knowing he viewed you that way. Ever since then you’d be itching to take the next step in your relationship. Knowing Van had intentions of spending the rest of his life with you made every feeling that much more intense.

The both of you would be Christmas shopping very last minute. He would step away for two seconds to pick up gift wrap while you “accidentally” wandered into the kids clothing. Your eyes would latch onto the cutest “my first Christmas” bodysuit and instantly trigger baby fever.

"You okay, love? I’d reckon these are a small for us” Van would sneak up behind you, joking endearingly as his arms snaked around your waist from behind. “Calling shots on the glittery green dress for myself”. You’d stick your lip out in a pout that would evolve into the most innocent of smiles. “These are too cute. I want a dog” you’d pause and take a quick glance at Van. He’d look enthusiastic for a split second then turn a full fledged skeptic. “A dog?” he’d question as one eyebrow would raise. His his hands would move upward onto your stomach. “I wouldn’t be opposed to a dog, or a baby” your smile would widen as you’d place your hands on top of his. “My sweet broody girl” he’d coo, drawing you in closer into him. “I saw you busy working on a Pinterest board this morning. Grab an outfit, we’ll need it next year” he’d whisper in your ear.

Your eyes would shoot wide open realising that was why he had been surprising you with everything you wanted without asking. “You weren’t supposed to see that!” you’d shout at him in a whisper. You’d twist your neck as far back as it could go to look him in the eyes. “If we get married and start a family-“ you’d start as Van would interrupt you and turn you towards him. “If? Sweetheart, I’d fuck a baby into you right here if I wasn’t on my last strike here” Van should admit just low enough for only you to hear. “Married or not, I plan on spending the rest of our lives together.”

“Christ, Van!” you’d mutter, not knowing wether to be surprised, upset or or turned on. “I’d let you, but first what in the bloody hell happened?” you’d furrow your eyebrows, preparing for the absolute worst. "Remember our conversation when I phoned you last? That was here.” Van would admit. “Had 20 complaints!”

“Phone sex operator by day, musician by night.” you’d joke and shake your head in mild embarrassment. “I want a baby before you’re banned from here. The kids clothes are too cute here. I can’t be trusted myself.”

Within seconds, you’d abandon all your items and Van would carry you out to the car.

🤰💖 anon I missed you where you been hiding? Hope you are well.

I loved this thank you. I don’t think they would make it out of the shop though. “My sweet broody girl” had me foaming at the mouth! If Van called me that I’d drag him into the shop changing rooms right there and then to start baby making!

If you have any more Christmas thoughts let me know as I need more festive dad Van in my life 💗

[darkhorse-javert]

Thoughts about a year ago- for context I am a pro-Royalist Brit. If you are not pro-royal, DL;DR...please don't start being nasty, these are my personal memories and thoughts

(LONG post below the cut)

OK, so it's Thursday, 8th September, c. lunchtime and I'm at work . Part of my job is helping with the social media for my work, so I logged on to Facebook and Twitter to see that things were organised before the weekend. We'd had a busy morning, so now was a good time to do it.

And on Twitter I see 'Queen Elizabeth' is trending. So i think I'll just have a quick look at what's going on. The Queen been fine, although looking very old and small two days ago (can't remember if I was already aware of the cancelled Privy Council meet at this time).

I click, and it's 'The Queen is under medical supervision at Balmoral, resting comfortably.' followed by get well soons etc.

And my heart/brain just sort of - stall and drop. 'OK, this isn't particularly good, she's 96.- and the Palace just don't issue health annoucements unless it's serious.' (They just don't).

On to the BBC news, where there's the live text feed. It doesn't say much more at that point, maybe that Charles and Anne are with her (Not Good)

Then after a bit c.20mins?, it comes up with the fact that family are being told to come to Balmoral.

That's when I really remember thinking 'Oh G-, Oh No. notgoodnotgood. Really Not Good'

I was just stunned numb, couldn't concentrate only anything for the last bit of my workshift. Then I went home, and just sat in front of the BBC coverage all afternoon, half-reading a book as it went on (Well Done to Huw Edwards and Nicholas Witchell for talking about the same small loop of things for three hours without sounding too boring). There wasn't anything really new to say, but I didn't dare stop watching- I wanted to know. (somewhere in this 'Resting Comfortably' became an awkward phrase in my mind, there's a lot doctors can do to help someone 'rest comfortably'

As it drew on we (family) reckoned they'd be waiting for the 6 o'clock News. And by 6, with no new updates apart from the arrival of family at Balmoral, we sort-of knew. If there had been any medical change for the better, any medical plan, it would have been mentioned (this was 'Nothing else but the Queen' TV coverage on the BBC).

6pm goes by, no news apart from the growing crowds at Buckingham Palace.

And then there's a shot of the royal standard on the flag-pole, and I can't quite work out if it's half-mast, or just looks it because it's hanging close to the flagpole due to lack of wind. And in the crowds there's a flurry of activity caught on camera. Then we cut back to the newsroom, and Huw Edwards annouces it-

That The Queen died this afternoon, that 'The King and the Queen Consort' will remain at Balmoral tonight.....

After the afternoon, the 'probably' had settled in. But then BBC played the National Anthem -with the beautiful painting, and I tried to sing 'God Save the Queen' for her - one final time. And my voice just caught and croaked, and I finally cried.

Even today that little bit makes me cry. starts 0:58

She was our Queen, she'd been queen for my entire life, she'd just Been There. And now she wasn't.

And it was -- so strange. To hear people on TV saying 'The King', and remember it meant Charles, who had always been 'Prince Charles', 'Prince of Wales'. That William was now (that is became very soon after) 'Prince of Wales'

It was comforting though for me, that Royalty carried on- even as it was strange.

And then we just had a very strange week, where things were very normal everywhere in life, but SO Not Normal as well.

It's strange it's been a whole year since then. RIP Ma'am. As Paddington said for all of us 'Thank you for everything'

[kismetharborapps]

application

ooc information

name: juicy

preferred pronouns: any

age: 21+

timezone: est

activity level: around a 7 I would say depends if I get another storm coming my way or not

triggers: n/a

anything else?: here

character information

name: Florian Jace

faceclaim: Froy Gutierrez

gender & pronouns: Cis Man

age: 30

birthday: September 27 1994

place of birth: San Antonio, Texas

occupation: Dance/Ice Skating instructor

neighborhood: Emerald Mist

time since arriving in kismet harbor: 28 years

filling a wanted connection?: n/a

biography: 

tw: medical

From your earliest memory you can recall those very words. “He’s meant for greatness,” and even as a child that stuck with you. Expectation and promises of grandeur, a life full of accomplishments. The thoughts of trophies and medals, recognition, it all seemed like the sweetest of dreams. Dreams that were simply thrust onto you far when you were far too young to act defiant. You tried to be picture perfect didn’t you? Or at least that was the goal. Perfect grades, good manners, well behaved, and always supposed to be looking your best no matter how menial the circumstance. The embodiment of excellence, not a single room for error, no flaw in place.

You had to be a star no matter what, and so ever since you hit the ice, you never once stopped. It was amazing seeing you glide on your skates as if this was what you were always meant to be doing. I could tell you loved every second of it, your smile had never been that big. But no matter all the elation you felt, nothing could’ve prepared you for what came next.

It started off as little complaints, and I distinctly remember the way you would hide your pain, just pretend it was a simple discomfort and move on. Gradually it worsened, and it wasn’t until your parents noticed something was off during one of your many extra curriculars, ballet was it? A quick doctor’s visit and you were told you had scoliosis. The dreams of Olympic achievements were slowly fading before your very eyes and your fear was so crystal clear in those little blue eyes of yours.

Your adoptive parents loved you and they were the reason you worked so hard, a silly little boy with a grand dream and wishes to make them eternally proud. Then one day you were told you’d be undergoing surgery, a miracle to correct your issue and you’d be able to continue your dream. A grave mistake, but what did you know, you were nothing but a child.

A grizzly scar now kissed your back, something you always tried to hide, but at least you were back on track. For a time it was perfect, you were competing, and winning, and the pain was still there but the surgery was supposed to help, right? So why did you fall in the middle of a performance? Why did you scream out in pain, the same pain you’d been hiding because you hoped and prayed that this would all be temporary.

But it wasn’t, it was all worse, and as you sought out your parents help, they recommended you take some time, wear your back brace and just commit. So you did, and it helped, but only a little that pain was persistent, petulant even, never leaving your side just gnawing away at you, day by day by day. Nothing was helping you, and it wasn’t until you rang the doctor that had seen you all those years ago that you found out the truth. That fateful surgery was never supposed to happen, the doctor had fully advised against it, he had recommended a brace and therapy to rectify the issue over time, but your parents hubris would be your downfall. Them people in the medical field who should know better, and when you confronted them, all you could see was the guilt written all over their faces and words of how they meant well, and the fear in your eyes was what ultimately led them to go through with it.

Now you’re left with that pain, never able to achieve those bitter sweet Olympic dreams, now you’re stuck being a teacher, and while you still love being on the ice, you will always have two constant reminders of the biggest betrayal in your life. Your chronic pain, and that big scar on your back, the same one that makes it so you can’t get close to any man, the one that makes it so you’re afraid to take your shirt off, even get intimate with someone fully nude.

You’ve never had a boyfriend, your career had to come first, and if you could talk to your younger self you’d laugh in his face, tell him it was all a waste of time. So you’re angry, angrier than even, but even as angry as you are you can’t hate them, you love your parents but you hate what they did, what they put you through, but you could never hate them.

So silly little boy, gliding on the ice as if he’s being whisked away to neverland, will you ever learn to let that one boy in or are you keeping him at arms length, like all the others.

. 

other: here

pets: n/a

town activities: Game On, LGBTQIA+

draw of luck: no

character blog url: florianjaces

[lust-for-celebs]

Friday, 27 September, 2024.

12:43 P.M..

His body ached. And he knew his head would ache soon after too. That seemed to be the pattern more recently. Perhaps it was some sort of karma. Karmic punishment would certainly work as an explanation. He wasn’t a particularly strong believer in such things, but he supposed pain after nearly sleeping with his taken friend was as of circumstantial evidence of it or some sort of divine justice as any.

His back hurt, so he scratched, and that left him out of action for about a minute. His muscles relaxed, the blood started flowing, and he felt, for just a moment, peace. He could probably stay there for hours if the feeling stayed.

But of course, it didn’t.

He felt something underneath him. It poked at him, and he, quite frankly, did not care for the feeling.

The process of grabbing it could’ve been simplified if he had just been smart enough to get up rather than thrusting his upper body, well, lower back and hips, but he was trying to get his upper back to follow, upwards while fishing his hand underneath him like he would the underside of his bed, but he wasn’t a particularly smart man, and he didn’t much feel like losing a fight with his blanket at the moment.

By the time he gave in and just moved over to the side, he had already realized what it was. The suspicious lack of a phone beside him, where he placed it, and the numerous times he had done the same old song and dance before told him it was his phone. The fact he had done that very thing no less than three times that week alone was another hint, he supposed.

He just hoped it hadn’t died.

Getting back into position—it really wasn’t that bad, and he wasn’t sure why he always resisted the slight movement so much at first—he turned on the phone. The notification that had Aimsey’s number on it wasn’t a particularly comforting sign so early in the morning, but he had to check something first.

The small sliver of yellow in the battery wasn’t a good sign, but sliding down the control center thing, he saw that he still had nine percent left.

Good enough, he thought. If nothing else, he had enough time to read whatever Aimsey sent him and send back a quick response.

“Goddamnit,” he mumbled to himself. Twice. Two fucking times he mistapped his paascode.

Three times.

Fucking finally. He wanted to swear, but he bit his tongue. No need to get all worked up so early in the morning. Before even reading the text.

If he ever got to the fucking thing.

His thumb hovered over the Messages app for a moment before tapping it. There it was. He could see it before he even tapped on Aimsey’s message.

Hey don’t forget about the thing today.

Thing? What thing?

Oh. Right. They had the little date/get-together thing planned that day. He groaned a bit before typing out a response.

Yeah, I know. I’ll be there. When was it again?

He remembered the time just fine, and he could’ve just scrolled back up a bit, but he decided it was better to have some sort of question. It didn’t really make much sense to him after he sent the message, but he couldn’t exactly unsend it.

A few moments later, his phone was plugged in and lying by his side, a bit higher up than he had left it last night. It would be uncomfortable to grab, but his charger cord could only be so long. He wrapped his blanket back around himself, determined to get just a bit more rest before he got up to start preparing for the day ahead.

It was funny. He never really slept covered in blankets all that often. He wasn’t sure when he started forgoing their warmth, but he was pretty damn certain when he had come crawling back (under) them. How could he forget? The night replayed in his mind on a near-daily basis, and he struggled to find that same level of comfort, joy, and warmth that even just imagining being back there brought him.

The night he slept with Aimsey.

Well, saying he slept with her brought about certain connotations that weren’t quite accurate, but he knew what he meant. Anyone who somehow knew what had happened that night would too.

He chuckled to himself. His imagination had always been a bit overactive and hard to control. Perhaps he should have just considered himself lucky for once that it was a pleasant thought. Then again, sometimes thoughts can be too pleasant, and it’s just as distracting, distressing, and hard to do away with them as the negative ones.

[komilys]

originally from proselfshiptember, day 10: autumn

summer passing by ; garroth ro’meave/kyi

or… in which garroth recounts his memories of an old family friend the night before his sophomore year and talks about his affinity for leaves for a little too long.

⌒ ᡣ𐭩 ・ 。

he’d never been away from his brothers, o’khasis had such a large main school, harbouring students from grade three to twelve, and the idea of being separated from them had an uneasy feeling settling in his gut.

not that he couldn’t handle being alone— no, he could. zane and vylad couldn’t, though.

but phoenix drop high seemed like a nice school. maybe not the best, but who was he to complain? besides, he knew he wouldn’t be alone at least.

his mom had mentioned kyi earlier, apparently when he’d transferred out of o’khasis years ago the boy had gone to the pheonix drop high’s school district. it took garroth a moment to recall who his mom was talking about— because honestly ‘the magicks kid, you remember?’ wasn’t super clear.

but he remembered kyi.

when they were younger, kyi was the kid zane would always play with in the summer; zane hated the heat and kyi was always sick. when vylad was having trouble with his reading and writing, he was the one to help him out. he’d stay over a lot over summer break, always somewhere around the ro’meave residence.

he hated garroth.

it started when he was six and kyi was five, when they’d first met (at least that he could remember). the bridge between summer and autumn, when temperatures just start to drop and the cinnamony-pumpkin scent begins to fill every corner of every room you walked into.

garroth loved autumn. he loved seeing the leaves change as they gently fall into a puddle, watching the water ripple so big and then into nothing again. he loved the autumn sweets and warm drinks, preferring the cozy comfort they provided compared to the usually-too-cold-for-him summer delicacies.

kyi, apparently, did not feel the same. his sickness peaked, and he hated the uncomfortable clothes and overwhelming smells, and the quote… scary halloween aisles, end quote.

.

“you don’t like halloween?”

kyi shrugged, endlessly turning the sippy cup in his hands. “uuu-hhm, i do,” he looked up garroth for a second before quickly going back to his juice. “i was a princess last year.”

garroth seemed to ignore everything kyi said. “you hate halloween?!” he was loud. his voice and the way he moved was loud, dramatically slamming his small hands on the play table.

and kyi stayed quiet. his caretaker always said: if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all!— and telling garroth he was dumb and too loud didn’t seem very nice to kyi.

he didn’t seem to pick it up though, continuing to pester the younger kid with questions. kyi waited for his parents to come back, hopefully before he did something he’d be scolded for.

“oh!” garroth jumped up from his pillow seat. “oh, zane really really really likes halloween.” he went for his cubby of art supplies. “gonna draw a pun..pumkie.”

komi squinted. “pumpkin.”

“pumkie is more gooder.”

“it’s wrong.”

“nooo-oo-oo…” his voice faded out, his focus shifting to the pretty warm hues and orange shades that littered his crayon box.

and then, as quick as they had met, kyi decided he didn’t like garroth at all. kids made enemies as quick as they made friends. maybe even quicker.

.

autumn was inching closer now, even if september was a week away, garroth felt it. soon he’d be able to see the leaves change from their summer greens to the vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows he adored. he wondered if phoenix drop high had a view like the o’khasis courtyards.

there was a large area in the center of the high school area that he thought was the best view. he’d only been able to sneak in a few times before he was a freshman, and he immediately fell in love with it. he’d stay there for his entire breaks, smiling up at the contrast of the lovely gradients of the leaves against the dim, cloudy sky. maybe his classmates thought the sight was depressing, but garroth couldn’t think that.

when he was a kid he wondered if the leaves fell because they were so sad the rest of the world liked summer more. it was embarrassing, and he used to talk to them because he wondered if they were lonely like him. his father laughed at him when he’d first said it, and then garroth learned to keep quiet about his thoughts.

if he were being honest, he didn’t miss much from o’khasis prep. certainly not the people or teachers, he didn’t think there was a single kind person there, and he wouldn’t miss the workload and stress that accompanied it at all. (he hoped going to a public school meant there would be less work).

but he’d miss his spot. and he’d miss the trees. o’khasis had the prettiest trees, he thought.

garroth checked the clock. 9:51 P.M.

his mom gave him kyi’s number earlier and he’d already put it in his contacts. it was his first year there too— though he was a freshman and garroth would be a sophomore, his mom and kyi’s parents had agreed he’d show garroth around.

he hadn’t seen kyi since seventh grade, three years. he knew he had friends— real friends, not like garroth’s friends— but he wondered if there was any room for him. kyi didn’t like garroth, he already knew that since they were kids, but he was lonely. he was lonely and he would take a childhood family acquaintance over the melancholy awkwardness of being the new kid at a new school. people had their groups by now, and garroth would just barging in.

are you awake? he wondered, and he glanced at his phone. garroth thoughts about how kyiwould look at him. he couldn’t seem to remember how it was, and words like kind or mean seemed too simple to describe it. maybe he was over-complicating it, maybe it was his nerves overthinking it.

he unlocked his phone. he wondered: do you still hate autumn?

[restinslices]

I’m ranting about being depressed because I don’t wanna keep spamming my friends. You don’t have to read this. I’ll probably delete this later.

Quick trigger warning for depression, mental illness in general, sewer slide thoughts, just a bunch of icky feelings. I am not feeling cash money

Going through hospitalization and thinking “wow, I’ve gotten better” only to get extremely depressed again is so disappointing. I went through multiple hospitals from January 2022 to around August or September of 2023. Now I knew I’d get depressed again because that’s just how life is, but I didn’t think it’d get so bad. I’ve gotten depressed since then and I’ve handled it pretty well but now I’m exhausted as fuck and the fact I lowkey wanna *insert windows shutdown sound* is so disappointing and makes me feel like a complete failure because I thought we were better than this twin. I’m both sleeping all day and have no energy to do simple things like walking to the other room and not being able to sleep at all. I’m both glad I’m alive and don’t have some illness, and “if someone were to shoot me, I’d probably thank them”. Like??? It feels like all the work I did means absolutely nothing. Like everyone put their faith in me and I’m letting them down over and over again. Especially this time.

And I don’t know wtf I’m doing. I feel like people really don’t understand how hard it is to look forward and have solid goals when you were never supposed to live this long. I didn’t think I’d make it out of middle school. Then I did. Then I didn’t think I’d graduate high school. Then I did. And it’s like “well… uhh, this is awkward”. Everyone has something they’re doing and you still can’t believe you’re actually alive and breathing still. It’s such a pathetic feeling and I hate it.

And my family has a tendency to not really pay attention or validate anything I say because I’m the youngest sibling and I always make jokes. If I don’t say “I’m gonna kill myself”, no one actually listens to what I say which is frustrating because I don’t feel like I should be at that point to gain a bit of sympathy. A lot of times, I just wanna rant and know someone is listening. I remember I tried this with my mom and said how I felt like no one listens to me because they only see me as the goofy sibling and she said, very irritated, “well you can’t change how people see you”. My mistake for interrupting the game on your phone. And this is a constant thing and I’m always bouncing between “wow, I really wish I felt heard” and “dude stop bitching”. I’m finna start tweaking and climb up my walls.

But yeah. I feel like dog shit because depression and wanting to Kate Marsh is beating my ass right now. And I feel like a failure for not being able to just thug it out. Idk. I feel like me being this depressed just shows no matter how much help I get, I’m never gonna be the person people want or need me to be. I’m always gonna be the fuck up. Younger me would despise me. She was so smart, confident, pretty, thin, sociable, mentally stable, plus other shit. She was recognized as young and gifted because of how great her grades were. Now I can hardly do math without getting a headache, I stutter a bunch, my confidence is ass, I’m clearly not mentally stable, I get panic attacks if I’m in public for too long or when talking to new people, I’m everything she never wanted to be. She would be BLOWN if she saw how she ended up.

This isn’t me fishing for sympathetic messages or attention. I’m just getting shit out.

Before I end this, I wanna make it clear that this is NOT a sewer slide note. I’m just stressed and sad and I feel like I’m bitching to my friends irl too much so I’m just venting here. Will I delete this later? Find out next episode.

[sugusat0us]

aftersome \\ g. satoru

synopsis : in which you, a self-proclaimed poet, and gojo satoru, a renowned photographer, cross paths. little did you know he'd leave just as quick as he came. to cope, you write him letters he might not ever receive.

wc ≈ 2k

content : manga spoilers, written from readers pov, implied fem reader, modern!au, no curses!au, mentions of blood and a lifeless body, hurt no comfort, angst, lots of figurative analogies, open-ended ending

notes : hbd gojo satoru. . . this was very spontaneously written and i might look back at it in a months time and take it down (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) take this while i run away ahhhhh

i remember the first time i saw you, standing among the cherry blossoms with your camera in hand. you appeared so serene, but there was a cloud of mystery that hung over you.

it was as if you were trapped, just like the blossoms themselves. i couldn't help but think that you were also meant to be a flower, but something was holding you back. 

if only i had done something sooner, perhaps things would have turned out differently. i can't help but feel responsible for what happened. 

you have filled my lungs with the same blossoms that seemed to consume you. i wonder if you ever wanted to be a blossom yourself.

☆*:.｡.

i have always envied your ability to find beauty in everything. 

i remember one time we had planned a picnic, but a rain shower suddenly came over us. i was upset because i had been looking forward to the supposedly sunny day. but, you just looked at me and smiled, saying, "let's dance in the rain." 

and so, we did. people around us thought we were crazy, but i was too busy admiring how beautiful you looked to care. 

i even asked you what your favorite flower was, and you replied, 

"tulips. white tulips." 

i remember looking up their meaning and discovering that white tulips symbolize forgiveness. 

i couldn't help but wonder, on that rainy july afternoon, were you trying to hint at what was going to happen on that cold, cold december night?

☆*:.｡.

after meeting you, i discovered so many things about myself. 

the only real reason why i became interested in poetry was so that every time you took a photo, a poem would go along with it. 

sooner or later, you became one of the world's best photographers and i became a somewhat "known" poet. 

did you know that i hated the spotlight? 

i hated people wanting to be friends with us just so they could get attention. 

but i never blamed you for any of it. 

i never blamed you for anything, 'toru.

every time you won an award, my biggest reward was seeing that crooked smile of yours spread across your face when you’d lock eyes with me in the crowd.

thank you. 

after i met you, i started to see the beauty in everything - in my eyes, in my scars, and in myself.

☆*:.｡.

the first time i saw you angry was on a strangely quiet september night. 

you were upset because i hadn't shown up to one of your award shows. 

i tried to explain, but you just kept arguing with me. i sat there, staring blankly at seemingly nothing.  

the one thing i wish you did was listen. 

it wasn't until the next day, our first anniversary, that you realized the significance of the date.

our anniversary. the beginning of an indescribable relationship. 

looking back, i realize that our relationship wasn't always filled with smiles. it was too perfect, almost unreal. i was the one who made it seem that way. 

if i were to describe our relationship like a poet, i would say that i tried to grow a flower in a world that was painted to be perfect. 

but now, i see that i didn't water that seed enough for it to bloom beautifully. 

if i were to write that poem again, i would make sure to give that seed the care and attention it needed to flourish.

☆*:.｡.

you and i once discussed our shared interests in photography and poetry, but we also talked about other things we enjoyed. 

one of those things was gardening, which i have always been fond of because of my grandmother. 

do you remember what we decided to do? we decided to start a garden in the middle of fall, thanks to your own accord.

i knew that the plants wouldn't have enough time to fully grow, but seeing you happy made it all worth it. 

your button-like nose and chubby, dimpled cheeks would turn red as the cold air would tickle them, and they became even rosier when i would call you “handsome.”

but, i can't seem to forget the moment when your bloodied frame resembled the color of your cheeks and nose, ruining what could have been a beautiful photo. 

you would always brush off my concerns with a simple "i’ll be okay," but i knew deep down that you wouldn’t. 

i just couldn't believe that you were in danger, with your once rosy cheeks now flushed grey.

☆*:.｡.

you.

you always were on my mind.

you were like a never-ending day dream, love. a dream i hoped would never end.

but, with every night's rest, comes a morning rise.

when i first had seen you, i didn’t know what i was looking for in life. i didn’t even know if i was even looking.

but, i now realize that it was you.

you and only you.

your eyes held the power of destruction and healing.

only masterpieces can make such things possible.

you were truly a masterpiece.

my masterpiece.

please, just come back.

☆*:.｡.

it’s been getting bad. 

i keep forgetting that you don't live in your old apartment, and the new residents keep reminding me that you no longer reside there, their expressions filled with sadness. 

it's only getting worse. i pity myself a lot these days. 

the last image i have of you is in our shared bedroom,

tears staining your beautiful, rosy cheeks. 

but instead of looking like a beautiful flower, you resembled an array of colors painted with agony. 

i can't express how much i long to say your name, kiss your lips, and for you to see me again. 

but i doubt you wanted the same. 

for fuck’s sake, you were the one who called it quits! 

you were the one who died!

i find myself getting less and less sleep every day, and when i do, you're always in my dreams. 

and for once, i hate it. 

could i have changed your fate?

☆*:.｡.

i can't take it anymore. 

i can't leave my desk or the sheets that still smell like you. 

i hate seeing the sunlight pass through my blinds, hearing kids laugh, and hearing the birds chirp. 

stop

stop stop 

STOP! 

every time i try to write, it always ends up with me screaming and sobbing, being mad at you. at myself. at god.

why’d you have to go? why’d you not stay when i begged you to? you’re so selfish! 

you could've still been here!

the hands that used to hold you when you were cold are now up in flames. i can't take it. 

i ripped up my poems and threw away your beloved photos. 

i feel like a shell of myself.

☆*:.｡.

i hope you can hear me up there.

my poems will always be in my journal, on top of the left side of our bookshelf. 

your photos will always be under the bed, in that one box we'd use when we'd pick apples. 

our playlists will always be on those tattered CDs in your black impala 64, and our hoodies will always be in the closet. 

just in case you come down from "partying with the angels," as you liked to put it, they will always be here.

i mean, at the end of the day, blossoms don't always bloom and july nights aren't always happy.

with lots of love,

tags : @yunymphs

© 2023, sugusat0us

[nikki-l-l]

This year so far, summed up:

Notes from February 2023:

(untitled)

For some, it’s just another day back to work after a longer weekend but for some, it was a change in environment and a little beat of excitement from the mundane normalcy of the daily grind.

It’s February. I don’t recall writing a year end post so I guess this is it. Sometimes, I had too much fun that I forget that bitter times always follow.

Today feels especially … - I don’t know how to describe this feeling of helplessness, unwanted and this feeling humbles me. I feel very defeated today. It’s funny how my tennis coach always say, you’re a ferocious dragon otherwise you wouldn’t be working overseas in this hardcore city. But I don’t feel that way at all, I’m just cruising through just like everyone else. That water line which determine if you drown into the deep ocean or if you’re quick enough to gasp another gulp of air.

Anxiety is back. I don’t recall feeling this way or probably I did but the feeling was so fleeting that I don’t remember it now. I hate Sundays. It gives me to uncomfortable nagging feeling that I wish time would stop. Stop that second from moving. Freeze in time please. I wonder if I felt this way when I was working back home. I’m actually kinda tired of feeling this way. The dreading Sundays. When can I stop feeling this way?

Just need to persevere for another 41 months. It’ll be quick.

Notes from May 2023:

Too much.

I’m tired all the time because I’m so exhausted from work. Not because I’m exhausted from work but u have so much in my mind now.

Looking back these two years, I feel like I’ve not properly “live”. I let work consume me and take up so much of my time. Although I don’t work on weekends, my weekends are just spent recuperating from the week of work exhaustion. I don’t wanna do this anymore.

You know there will be a playlist/song that will invoke some emotion. Lately I’m so afraid to play that playlist because I’m so scared. I’m scare of the feelings/emotions that I’ve buried in the past two years. I’m afraid that lid covering those emotions might just fly off if I start playing those songs.

I think I’m clinically depressed because of my work situation but I’ve just been holding back. Sometimes I wonder if it’s me. Why do I have such a bad relationship with my job? If I can’t even have a good with my job, what qualification do I have to start/sustain a long term commitment to a person. And they say, as you get older, you’ll crave companionship but does everyone qualify for that kind of commitment. I know for one I don’t.

I always have this nagging sense that I’d screw up and I feel only I can overcome this.

Notes from September 2023:

Masked

Overwhelmed

Amplify the feeling

Low energy

Bouts of depression symptoms

Notes from November 2023:

This crippling anxiety did not go away, I’m still afraid that I might fuck up. Albeit undiagnosed, I think I’m clinically depressed. The thoughts of why I’m alive has return again. Maybe I’ve kept myself so busy in these past 2 years is just so I could stop having these questioning thought of my existence in the world.

I’m in a bad mental state of mind right now - I just want to not feel anything, I wanna be numb about my emotions. My brain is going on overdrive at every awakening moment.

I don’t know how to feel.

[nosleep-tumbl]

Nobody remembers me… except for him

My name is Philip, chances are you don’t know me… actually you definitely don’t know me. Let me explain….

I’m a 26 year old man, but when I was four I mean fi- I can’t remember. My mom told me when I was a little kid I used to have this imaginary friend who I would call “the man with no nose” and I had a well established rule that if he didn’t get to play with toys nor did I, if he didn’t get food then I wouldn’t eat mine, I think you get the idea. Anyway flash to today September 27th 2023, and I don’t remember anything about him, I only know about him because my mom recently told me, and she wanted to know if I remembered him too.

Yesterday I came into work, my coworker Becky stood behind the counter, “welcome to summerstone cafe, can I start you off with anything?” I looked behind me to see if someone was in line, there wasn’t. “Nope, just gotta clock in real quick.” I replied, “oh! Did you just start working here? I’ve never seen you before” said becky, I chuckled “very funny” I said sarcastically, she looked a little offended but didn’t say anything I walked past her to the back of the cafe, I punched my name into the computer “error, try again” I did it again, same thing “error, try again” I definitely know how to spell my own name, so I found the manager and told him my situation, “did you make sure you spelt it correctly” he said cockily, “of course I can spell my own name” I responded, “are you sure you pressed enter?” He said, “I’m not stupid” I replied “mkay, let me take a look” he punched his name into the computer, (Robert Quill) “seeeee, works like a charm. Stop making excuses to work or else I’ll have to fire you… whoever you are” I never really comprehended the last three words until now.

Anyway after that whole fiasco, I decided to head back home, whilst driving back home I decided to call my mom *buzzzz… buzzzz… buz-* “hello, this is Claire” says mom over the phone “hey mom! I’ve had a rough week and figured-“ “sorry hun this ain’t your mom” she hung up, “damn it…” I mumbled to myself. A couple minutes later I was getting a call back, or that’s what I thought, until I noticed it was from an ‘unknown number’,I let it ring but ended up picking up cause why not. I heard a monotone man probably around my age quietly whispering “you did this to me… you did this to me, Philip. I’m gonna find you…” he hung up.

Flash forward to right now, I’m hiding in my closet as things are being thrown around my house the police are saying my house isn’t showing up on the map but to stay calm. They asked me to describe the man and I said “he’s tall, very tall, pale I couldn’t see his pupils, and most notably…. His nose is missing” now fear for my life, he’s making his way up the stairs, I don’t think there’s anything I can do.