#sometimes i have a little task in my mind journal and when i step into a room some objects already have green outlines hehe

[screamingay]

starting to feel like i actually do think the same as harry dubois sometimes. i look at a shelf and start rolling very quick encyclopedia checks to see if i know the basic facts and/or history of each item

[girlypopbops]

⋆˙⟡Ultimate Self Care Sunday Guide ⋆˙⟡

☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆

When I think about Sundays I think about rejuvenation and pleasure ; enjoying the day while doing a weekly reset.

On Sundays I like to sleep in and get that well deserved beauty sleep, the key to any successful reset is being well rested and grounded.

♡ (10:00am) Wake up, take my time waking up & lay in bed for a few mins, stretch and take some deep breaths, positive affirmations

"Today I am grateful for..."

"I deserve to treat my body with love and care today."

"I am committed to improving myself and achieving my goals daily."

♡ Open the blinds, straighten up room, and make bed. Starting the day with a bright and neat room is a simple and refreshing way to start the day off on the right foot, a small achievement as soon as you step out of bed will inspire you to keep going.

♡ Drink water & take my meds and supplements. Since it had been hours since I had any water hydrating is super important, and since I'm already taking my medicine might as well finish the glass off.

♡ Journal and plan day. Having a game plan and a clear mind before doing any real tasks sets the foundation for a productive day and promotes mindfulness. I like to have rose quartz, clear quartz, and amethyst on my desk while I journal to set peaceful intentions and promote self love. I have a five minute journal so I begin by thinking of 3 things I'm grateful for, one affirmation, and 3 things I can do for the day that will make it great. Typically on Sundays taking my time, being attentive, and being proactive are my goals for making the day great. I'll then make a to-do list for the day.

♡ Skin care and comfy clothes. Washing my face, moisturizing and putting on sunscreen is the perfect simple skin care for running errands, I usually wear some sweat pants and a t-shirt to finish the fit.

♡ Breakfast! I always like to have lots of fruit and a sweet treat on Sundays as part of my breakfast as a treat for getting through the prior week.

♡ Reset cleaning session. I like to do a full vacuum of my space, mop, wipe everything down, run the dish washer, and do my laundry. Other cleaning tasks vary based on the week but I like to make sure I am doing those tasks weekly. I also like to make sure to wash towels on Sunday since sometimes I'll do laundry on Wednesday and don't do towels then.

♡ Ultimate shower vibe time. The everything shower of my dreams after being all sweaty from cleaning. ( I have a post about this already on my page!)

♡ Light a candle and set the vibes with some mood lighting.

♡ Do my full skin care routine, face mask ect...

♡ A nice filling dinner & tv show. I love a Sunday night pasta dish with a Diet Coke while watching Pretty Little Liars.

♡ Journal. My five minute journal has a section to do in the evening, it asks to write down 3 highlights of the day and what lesson you learned for the day. It's a nice way to look back fondly on the day.

♡ Read. I like to read before bed since it helps me to fall asleep! I've been reading The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz and Conversations on Love by Natasha Lunn!

♡ (10:30pm) Night time meds & slumber!

[lazybutsmexy]

I've had this idea for a while, but I wasn't sure who to ask. But after reading Bird Hunting I'm confident you'll do it perfectly 🥰

What if the reader was affectionate with people. Like before every mission they (platonically) tells everyone 'I love you' and blows them a kiss. Leaves little notes in everyone's vests, things like that. Thank you🩷🩷

Thank you for your lovely message! I appreciate the trust you put on me, I hope not to disappoint hehe. I completed this request with both bullet headcanons and a lil'drabble, hope you like it! Under the cut for length!

Warnings: none! pure fluff, GN!reader

Word count: 1200~

Task Force 141 + affectionate reader

the moment you stepped into base it became clear that you’d be the resident care bear.

you made it your life mission to make sure everyone on base knew they were loved

because everyone deserves to be loved - looking at you, Simon *wink wink*

your levels of affection varied from person to person, always being mindful of how comfortable they felt with it

for Ghost for example, you were more inclined to have a cup of Earl Gray ready for him the moment he walked into the common lounge, and sat in silence with him for however long he needed it.

sometimes you’d pat him on the shoulder (when he was sitting down ofc) when you walked past and greeted him variations of “hello mister grim reaper!”, “how’s my favorite specter doing today?”, “woah, you look delightfully cadaverous today~”

he always glared at you when you did that, but he was definitely blushing under the facepaint and skull mask, don’t be fooled. 

your loving words would stay swimming around his brain for days on end 

Price wasn’t against physical affection, but he felt queasy about having a subordinate hugging him in front of others

a pat on the shoulder or the back from you, with a “glad to see you, Captain!” in the mornings was more than enough to lift his spirits for the rest of the day

you also made sure to sneak in his favorite bourbon for his birthday - he scolded you lightly about rules and regulations, but once no one was around he gave you a one-armed hug and a “thanks, kid, appreciate it”

would definitely burst into tears if you told him “Love you, dad!”, so use it wisely

with both Gaz and Soap, however, you went all out. 

they had no qualms at all being physically affectionate

Soap in particular would see you running towards him and immediately drop anything he was holding to catch you in his arms, maybe even give you a lil’ twirl as you planted a wet smooch on his cheek

he would definitely give you a wet smooch back and a big ol’ squeeze

Gaz wasn’t as over-the-top with affection, he was much calmer than Soap

nevertheless, he never, ever, refused your affection

he would immediately feel soothed and content the moment you wrapped your arms around him in a hug, or gave him a kiss on the cheek

receiving any physical affection made him feel giddy in general, sometimes he had a hard time wrapping his head around some of the things he had to do for his job

if you blew Gaz or Soap a kiss they would immediately blow one back

in general, something you never failed to do was to sneak little notes of affirmation in their gear without them noticing

or at least you thought they didn’t notice

they always noticed when your fingers dig a bit too far in their pockets, they just pretended not to notice

because they knew that, the moment they needed it, they would find a lovely note in your handwriting reminding them of how loved they were

Simon made you believe he tossed them away but he actually stacked them in his journal to read in his darkest hours

Soap taped them to the wall next to his bed so he could re-read them all before he went to sleep

Price also collected them in his journal, but taped his favorite one - “Can’t wait to see you soon! Take care, love you!” - to a framed photo of his beloved team

Gaz kept your little notes in the drawer of his bedside table, and every morning he’d choose one to keep in his pocket at all times during the day

~~~~~~

You waited patiently by the door, blinking slowly at the hallway within the base. It was zero-two-forty-five and you should definitely be asleep by now - this was not a mission for you, after all. But you wouldn't simply go to sleep without your little departing ritual. 

The footsteps echoing in the hallway perked you up, your fingers fiddling with the tiny pieces of paper in your pockets. 

Captain Price was the first to arrive, as usual. He shot you a warm smile the moment he noticed you, and you replicated it while opening up your arms. He glanced around and, once verifying there were no other soldiers in the vicinity, he relented and let you give him a quick hug.

A little smirk found his lips when he felt your fingers dig a bit too hard in the area near his smaller holsters. He said nothing, though, and you looked up at him with a grin.

“I hope everything goes well, Cap!”

“Thanks, kid,” he patted your head before stepping out of your short-lived embrace, he walked out and went to have a word with the pilots.

Ghost was the next one. You hadn’t heard him approach you, but he patiently waited for you to notice his presence. When you finally did, you patted his shoulder and shot him a wink, your lips still stretched into a grin as you slipped a paper in his radio holster. 

“Be safe out there, ‘kay? I’ll be waiting for you, LT.”

He only answered with a small grunt, but the softness in his eyes was noticeable miles away. He waited for your touch to leave him before stepping away - he didn’t want you to think he was shrugging you off. 

“Hey, Y/n!” Soap called you, and you opened your arms wide for him to fit in the middle. He let his weapon hang to wrap both arms around you, effectively picking you up and giving you a tight squeeze, “don’t miss me too much, eh?” He smirked down at you, and you answered with a chuckle and squished his cheeks between your hands - after slipping his note into one of his back holsters. 

“I'll always miss you, though,” you hummed, “I promise not to watch Wednesday without you, so don’t worry about that.” He gave you another tight squeeze with a “you better not!” growl into your neck, making you giggle and kick the air.

Gaz’s own chuckle brought you back to the present, and Soap lowered you to your feet before jogging towards the helicopter. You cupped Gaz’s face and brought him down to you, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Take care out there, yeah? Don’t do anything too crazy, hm?”

Gaz snorted and shot you a smirk, “you sure you shouldn’t tell that to someone else?” he teased, his head tilting toward the Scot.

“And you think he’d listen to me?” you shot back, before wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a hug - also slipping his note in one of the back holsters, “see you soon, Gaz,” you mumbled in his neck, and he reciprocated with a squeeze. 

Just as Gaz joined the others on the helicopter, the engine roared to life, and you stepped closer just so you’d be heard above the noise. You cupped your hands around your mouth and yelled out, “Love you! Take care! See you soon!” 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to hear them say anything back, and you sometimes doubted they could even hear you over the roar of the engines. But you never failed to reassure them that there was someone waiting for their safe return.

[study-with-aura]

Tuesday, April 9, 2024

Today went very well. I am glad that I was able to catch up on my posts during my break earlier. I am now eating my evening snack, and then I will get ready for bed before spending a bit of time with my parents until it is time for sleep.

I am not quite sure if I am a fan of statistics quite yet seeing as conditional probability took me a little longer to understand, but I do think I finally figured it out so it made sense in my brain. On the other hand, the book that I am almost done with is so good. They mentioned the father of taxonomy, who I only recently studied in Biology. Yes, I forgot his name, but it isn't important as he did a terrible thing by assigning value to a person based on their race and said that there were four races, and technically even five, and then he assigned them an order and why they were in that particular order. Apparently, that was one of the ideas behind race realism which is pseudoscience at best in which geneticists even say there is no actual scientific backing for despite how it is often displayed. Although, I am finding this out from this book, with what I know in general, I trust it. Sometimes non-fiction can be difficult to read, but when it's written like this, and because I like history, I don't want to put the book down. It's strange that I somewhat remember hearing about some of the events mentioned in the book, but I can't recall it perfectly. I was only 7 then!

Tasks Completed:

Geometry - Learned about conditional probability + practice + learned to check for independence with conditional probabilities + practice + honors work

Lit and Comp II - Reviewed Unit 23 vocabulary + read chapters 54-55 of Emma by Jane Austen and finished the novel + took quiz on Emma (12/10)

Spanish 2 - Copied and studied clothing vocabulary

Bible I - Read 1 Samuel 13-14:1-15

World History - Learned about Anne Frank + read some of Anne Frank's writings + learned about Nazi ideology

Biology with Lab - Completed virtual mystery "lab" story (14/15)

Foundations - Read more on thoroughness + took next quiz on Read Theory + read steps of Monroe's "Motivated Sequence" + read about the psychology of persuasion

Piano - 60-minute piano lesson + practiced for one hour

Khan Academy - Built into coursework

CLEP - None today

Streaming - Watched Greatest Events of World War II in Color episode 3

Duolingo - Studied for 15 minutes (Spanish, French, Chinese) + completed daily quests

Reading - Read pages 323-376 of Accountable: The True Story of a Racist Social Media Account and the Teenagers Whose Lives It Changed by Dashka Slater

Chores - Laundry

Activities of the Day:

Personal Bible Study (2 Corinthians 6)

Ballet

Pointe

Journal/Mindfulness

-

What I’m Grateful for Today:

I am grateful that my piano teacher was very proud of me today for having three of my pieces fully memorized and almost a fourth!

Quote of the Day:

Without music, life would be a blank to me.

-Emma, Jane Austen

🎧10 Pieces from Romeo and Juliet, Op. 75 - Sergei Prokofiev

[nihilistikal]

12!! 14. 17. 20. 20 again. 23 because that sounds really interesting. 30!!! 34? ... 37. 38, but three times, because yes!

[ 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄:] 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝

⸻ 12. what’s some good advice you want to share? This past year I've been doing a lot of soul searching / reflecting on stuff and working on myself, so I'll list a couple of things that really helped me and stuck with me: Disclaimer - obviously this won't be helpful for everyone, but these things are highly flexible to use, so maybe someone finds them as useful as me.

: ̗̀➛ Journaling. Every morning I write down three things I am grateful for, set one goal for the day (can be anything from tiny tasks to larger stuff), and the book I use for this also gives me a little mindfulness task on every page, which varies. In the evening I assess if I managed to achieve my goal, how my energy levels are and check some pre-determined boxes (drank enough water, moved my body, ate healthy, was mindful.... etc), as well as answer one small prompt the book gives me. Additionally I started to braindump before bed (just writing down w/e comes to mind), as well as jotting down the things I do over the day in a list so I can see that I am not as inactive as my head makes me believe sometimes. : ̗̀➛ Refuse to deal with subtexts. People have a mouth / hands / ways to communicate with you. If they take issue with something they have a problem with, they should communicate it. Otherwise it's a them-problem, not a you-problem. You don't have to interpret what someone might think. You're not a mindreader. : ̗̀➛ Routines. This sounds dull, and believe me I had trouble implementing this, but once something is repeated often enough, it just sticks. Be it the time you wake up, stuff that helps your health (taking supplements, drinking water right after waking up, etc.) or stuff that helps with a better sleep hygiene (no displays one hour before going to sleep, reading more, drinking a cup of tea, mediation etc.) It was difficult to get used to, but I can absolutely see the benefits and try to stick to it most days, simply because I know it helps me have a better quality of life. : ̗̀➛ Romanticize your daily life as much as possible. This ofc depends on a lot of factors, but I try to apply this to the most mundane stuff like cleaning my apartment, going for walks, cooking, preparing my morning coffee... Sometimes life just sucks, but okay-ish days get instantly better if you romanticize them a little.

⸻ 14. what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do? Hmm... in terms of actually being too scared due to phobia: Anything to do with heights. I kind of would love to experience the adrenaline rush of skydiving or bungee jumping, but I can hardly even step on a chair without having issues :'D

⸻ 17. name 3 things that make you happy My cats, my apartment (coupled with how I decorated it), autumn - the crisp air, the colorful leafs, mist, chill weather, being able to properly layer my clothes again... Also the smell of rain, a nice cup of coffee, playing my favorite games, the rush of a hyperfixation taking off - especially when rambling to someone equally as invested, spending my saturdays doing absolutely nothing except what I want and pampering myself, blond bastard men D;

⸻ 20. favourite (2) things about the night? The stillness. Barely anyone outside, everything is a muffled and subdued, most people just want to get home, so walking outside is usually extremely peaceful. Also the sky. Not so much when it's cloudy ofc, but I often spend time just staring into the night sky and looking for shooting stars, constellations, thinking about how small and insignificant we are.

⸻ 23. say 3 things about someone you hate OKAY SO. xD Admittedly it takes a lot for me to hate someone, usually I am somewhere between pettiness, saltiness, annoyance or, best case, indifference. But if I had to pick someone it would likely be work-related. Because man. These people pulled some nasty shit. SOOOOOOO- This particular person .... I'm at least 80% sure they're bi-curious/-questioning or gay-curious/-questioning. Because why else ask me about my sexuality if we hardly have anything to do with each other. Nasty fuck. They're opportunistic and manipulative to the point that I'm very certain they stir shit up behind everyone's back just because they can. They're utterly bland, boring and uninteresting which is probably why they can't stand me. And I hope they have the life they deserve (derogatory).

⸻ 30. what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier? Pretty much what I listed in 17 - but if we're thinking in terms of having a shit day with extremely bad mood, I usually try to parent myself. Make myself a hot chocolate with vanilla, some sweet treats, order food if I don't have the energy for anything else and just all around allow myself to exist without having to do anything much. It absolutely helps to alleviate any negativity after a while. Also ofc having my cats around me to cheer me up. And putting characters in situations, if my energy levels allow.

⸻ 34. any pet peeves? Certain high pitched noises. Or generally loud, penetrant noises. Rudeness. It's not hard to show a modicum of politeness and yet I can hardly move outside one day without being upset about how utterly rude people are. Unclear instructions / constantly flipping priorities around without any sense and brain (again, very work related xD). People not knowing concert / mosh pit etiquette. And phones at concerts, beloathed.

⸻ 37. share a secret I am fairly spiritual and used to be a practicing Wicca. I am, however, not overly supersticious. The way I approach things is I like the look for a scientific explanation first, but am open to believe there is something more to life, death, etc. than that. I mostly keep my believes and practices as well as experiences to myself.

⸻ 38. fave song at the moment?

: ̗̀➛ Akira Yamaoka - Rain of Brass Petals - Three Voices Edit : ̗̀➛ The Anix - Crimson : ̗̀➛ Lady Gaga - Disease : ̗̀➛ Bonus: SHOSTA - Feuer

Thank you so much for all these!!

[rollforthings]

Dug’s Duty: An Actual Play of Little Dung Guy

This post is part of a series I'm calling Solo RPG Sundays, where I spend a lazy Sunday afternoon with a solo journaling tabletop game. As I start this project, solo journaling games are everywhere in the indie scene but aren't really my cup of tea -- I love the collaborative nature and shared story of group games, which I don't really get with journaling games. My hope is that by sharing my experience with solo journaling game, I'll gain a new appreciation for them, share with others what they can do, and boost the signal of indie creators. With that said, here's the first in the Solo RPG Sundays series, Little Dung Guy.

Little Dung Guy is a one-page solo journaling rpg where you play as a dung beetle in its sisyphean task to get a ball of poop up a hill. This game was written and illustrated by Felix Klee, published by Sleepy Badger Games, and submitted as part of the 2024 Game Exploder Game Jam. Find it pay-what-you-want at this link to play for yourself: https://sleepy-badger-games.itch.io/little-dung-guy

(Content warning: bugs and poop, of course.)

~~~

Hi. My name is Dug, and I’m a dung beetle.

I’ve got a job, a real important one. I work in sanitation and early-life care. A unique combination to be sure, but the savanna is home to all kinds of unique work opportunities. I gather poop into easy-to-move, ergonomic spheres, and roll them into the best spots. There they serve as home base and food for a new generation of dung beetles. Anyway, the following is a professional logbook of my work experience and musings on the craft. It’s for posterity and job training for future combination-sanitation-early-life-care workers, like myself.

Day 1

Weather: hot, sunny.

I got to thinking about the nature of my career. Who do I work for? Technically I’m self-employed, a contractor of sorts. My duty (hehe) is to the younger generation of scarab-lets that come after me. But I guess in the clerical sense, my employer is a middle-aged African elephant named Subira. Subira is an excellent boss. She’s a patient and attentive listener, she takes care not to step on me with those enormous padded feet, and her high-fiber diet makes my job all the easier. We don’t really talk much -- my work is more the back-end of the production line -- but this just means she’s very hands-off when it comes to the work I do, which I appreciate. I’m sure most folks prefer being hands-off when it comes to my line of work, but not me. Anyway, today Subira’s given me a lot to work with, and I’m taking it up this hill here.

Working mostly with my back legs in a rhythmic workflow, it leaves the mind to wander as I work. I think about the future and what I hope to achieve one day. I like to think I’m a pretty simple guy. I often think about culminating my life’s work in a huge, round ball of elephant dung and settling down, having a few hundred kids, maybe taking up gardening in my retirement. It’s not a huge dream, but then I’m not a huge guy. I like the simple things in life -- dirt, dung, rolling, family, the warm sun, and semi-digested leaves and grasses.

Sometimes I wonder if the larger animals here on the savanna are aware of what I do. Sanitation work is often overlooked, I think. Folks usually don’t  consider their waste after they’ve discarded it. Like, take buzzards for instance. They relieve themselves from the tops of trees, or even from high up in the sky. I bet they haven’t a clue where their poop even goes after the fact. But then, buzzards do care a great deal for the waste of lions and leopards and such. The leftovers from a big animal are food for the buzzards. And the leftovers from elephants and giraffes and the like are food for dung beetles like me. I guess it’s all relative when you look at it from multiple perspectives. Lok at things all ‘round. Kind of like this ball of dung, which is probably double the size of when I started on it this morning. Anyway, I’m not really sure how aware the big fauna are of the work I do, but at least the elephants like Subira are careful not to step on me.

I’ve passed the halfway mark up this hill now. The sun is at its highest, the slope is getting steeper, and this ball is probably much heavier than even me now. I hear the hum and buzz of cicadas drift across the hazy air. I quite like the cicadas; they may be loud and talkative, but they have some interesting ideas and they’re always good company if you don’t mind hanging out in large numbers. Sometimes after a shift I’ll hang out with some fellow dung beetles, and we’ll shoot the sh- uh, the breeze, over lumps of mulch. It’s mostly standard work talk, which I don’t mind, but often the conversation gets into these one-upping matches about the size of the dung balls everyone’s rolled. And while I must admit I’m guilty of getting into those discussions myself, they can get a little annoying. And I’m pretty sure Dusty is stretching the truth about the ball she rolled last week. There’s no way you could roll a 30-cenitmeter ball out of hippo dung, it’s just too wet!

Ah, poop! Just as I was nearing the top, a huge breeze whipped up, curved my dung ball sideways out of my grip, and it tumbled down to the bottom of the slope. I knew this was going to happen today. Th stars weren’t right last night and the cicadas were chirping off beat this morning, both clear signs we were gonna be dealing with harsh conditions. Dusty doesn’t believe in the cicada theory, but it’s never told me wrong. Shit. Ah well, nothing for it but pick up what’s left and try again. I’m pretty beat though, so I guess I’ll leave it lie and start it up tomorrow.

~~~

Day 2

Weather: hot, sunny.

Okay, here we go, bright and early. The ball was right where I left it, and I’ve started it back up this hill. I lost some progress on it, but at least it’s a lighter start to the day and I can roll up most of the bits that came loose on the slope.

I wonder if other dung beetles encounter this kind of professional setback. Surely others have similar experiences. But maybe my approach is a little off. I remember this time Dusty hit a snag and her dung ball starting rolling down, but she held right on and rolled with it. Kept it mostly together too, and she bragged about the scratches on her shell from the experience. Maybe I should try the hang-on trick, too.

This wouldn’t be the first time a workday went up in steam. This one time last season I tried rolling on a flat plane got a great shape and size, only to roll directly into a termite mound. After the initial panic -- it was a very big dung ball, and termites are pretty tiny -- there was a lot of kerfuffle about how to proceed. Eventually I had to concede to some weird zoning bylaw, which I’m pretty sure the termite foreman was just making up on the spot. But I wasn’t about to argue the matter further, I was wasting daylight and the termites were getting agitated and swarmy, so I just cut my losses and had to start a new ball from scratch. It was a shitty day, but it taught me the importance of location and regular blind-spot checking, so I guess it made me a better roller in the long run.

I’ve just had to stop rolling for a sec, something super interesting just happened. There was a shadow overhead, one of the buzzards I think, and an aerial poop just came down like a falling star right near me! It’s kind of fascinating, and it’s got me thinking. One animal’s waste and all that. Maybe I could roll it up. I’ve never done a hybrid ball before. This buzzard material is… different. Not sure it’s prime ball material, nothing like the elephant-issued industry standard, but hey, innovation breeds progress, and maybe it also breeds hundreds of larvae. Heck it, I’m gonna try it and see what happens.

Excellent! Just made it past the spot yesterday where the breeze foiled my attempt. The slope is leveling out and the top of the hill is in sight. The ball is really big now, and the incorporated buzzard material is blending in an interesting stripe pattern. It’s at this point I need to remember to keep things at pace, even, controlled. Don’t get hasty just because it’s almost done. Stay focused, stay on target, keep the rhythm. Left leg, right leg, other left leg, other right leg. Left leg, right leg, other left, other right.

Aaaand… there! Yes! I made it to the top! I wipe the dust from one of my several brows and give myself a pat on my front left shoulder. This is a fine specimen. Huge, round, with hybrid materials (elephant and buzzard dungs), atop this little hill in the full light of the savanna sun. If only my parents could see me now. They’d probably say something like, “Which one are you?” I’m one of hundreds of siblings and we dung beetles don’t really do names or anything until we reach our adult phases anyways, but I could definitely introduce myself and they’d definitely be proud of me. I hope one day, my future children will accomplish a feat like this, and I can ask them who they are and they can introduce themselves and we can all admire our glorious, if unglamorous, profession. ‘Cause we’re little dung guys, and that’s just how we do.

[clickedbait]

She didn't get to leave Hawthorn or the island all that often. Days off came as a reward and earned privilege. Perhaps many would frown at that, but she didn't mind it. It kept her focused, disciplined, and ready. She liked living on the island and with the other chefs, but being allowed off it getting a day off? That was a treat and she was going to take advantage of it by taking the boat into town curtesy of Dale-- another chef with more than the general know how on both boats and acting. She'd dressed herself in civilian clothes-- something simple. Capris jeans and a baby blue button down, sleeves rolled to her elbows. It was a common look for her, hair pinned back and faint smile on her lips. She felt comfortable in it, a close second to the comfort of a Hawthorn chef's jacket.

But she was doing her best not to think about that jacket or the tasks that came with it. She was, again, taking advantage of the day ahead of her-- including picking up a new journal. She'd filled her last one to the brim with thoughts, recipes, and secrets-- the tattered item in her purse hung over her shoulder. She'd burn it while still in town. No reason to hold onto those thoughts or even the recipes (all memorized or official in some fashion at Hawthorn). She found comfort in burning the leather bounded book almost every other time she came into town... enjoying letting go of what's inside.

There's one thing about Katherine though that sets her apart from the rest of the world when she steps onto the mainland. She doesn't have phone. No cellphone to keep up with her friends or her family-- why would she? Hawthorn was her home. Her family. Her friends. She didn't need anyone else-- she wasn't meant to. That's how good it was to work for Chef. Didn't matter how he treated her last year in punishment for denying him. Didn't matter that she had to fight tooth and nail for her position in feeling like she had some of his respect again. She was happy with her life.

Arriving on the mainland was easy and it was even easier to find her way to her favorite little bookstore. Sometimes she'd reward herself with a book purchase, but the only times she had to read were in the wee hours of morning and it was that or sleep. Mind you some of that time was used for the journals she'd have, but sleep was important. It was recommended-- frowned on really if you missed it and yawned the next day. Either way, it didn't stop her from perusing just slightly some of the new releases as she entered. Picking up one and turning it over to read the back flap before returning it to its place. She gave a muted grin to the clerk who greeted her after helping someone, shaking her head when asked if she needed help. She was fine.

She made her way too the back of the store where journals were kept, eyes fixating on the wall lined with them. She nearly missed the woman walking out of the kids' area with a couple books in hand-- Katherine throwing on the brakes and stopping dead. She was quick on her feet thanks to her time in the kitchen, dark blues quickly snapping to find a woman she almost didn't recognize. Mind you it'd been years since she'd seen the woman, but Katherine rarely forgot a face. Especially one you saw almost every week for nearly a year before one dropped out. @witchdoctrines.

She remembered her name (came with knowing a face), but hadn't she gotten married since then? God. How long had it been since college even? The years felt as though they blended together working in this industry and especially since joining the team at Hawthorn. Not that it mattered. The point was-- Katherine recalled who Emilie was. It wasn't just her face and name. She could remember how terrrible the woman was at cooking. How awful she was despite the trying attempts to do well-- had Katherine ever paid her mind to help or was she too wrapped up in her own world.

Quite like now.

Katherine blinks quickly and gives a shake of her head, "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings," but she barely pauses before adding, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're Emilie, right? I think we had a class together back at NYU-- culinary arts one, I believe?"

[poisedpen]

✒ Planning...for the Neurodivergent!

I think that for most people the term "planning" conjures pictures of perfectly executed layouts and neat, tidy handwriting. While these things are certainly impressive, sometimes it feels like it prioritizes style over function. Journaling, and by extension, planning, does NOT have to be expensive, time consuming, or perfect.

When I first started dipping my toes into the community a few years ago, I got probably two weeks into a proper “bullet journal” before I gave up. My ink smudged, my stickers peeled, and I found that spending hours making the perfect layout was sucking away my limited time.

As a newly diagnosed and treated ADHD-er, I have found some success in a printed planner. All the months, weeks, and days are already laid out for me, and I have the time at work to fill out everything I need.

But what about someone who doesn’t have the luxury of down time at work? What about someone who gets overwhelmed just THINKING about all of the long-term projects and obligations they have on a day-to-day basis? A chronic procrastinator? Someone whose phone’s to-do list is just BURSTING with tasks, but there’s no prioritization?

Introducing…the pocket notebook!

The main objective of this is to find a pocket notebook that is portable, slim, and enjoyable to write on. Field Notes are quite popular among the stationery crowd, but they’re also on the pricey side for only 48 pages. If you have the money and you enjoy them, go for it! But there could very well be something just as perfect for you waiting at the dollar store.

Yeah, it’s small, and therefore may not be the most comfortable thing to write in. However, it’s not truly meant to be a full-blown journal. No– instead of shoving it into an endless to-do list or note on your phone…you are making your idea tangible.

Your phone, and by extension all of its notifications and applications and features, is designed to distract you. By removing all of that and placing a simple, analog tool in front of you…it is, in theory, easier to focus on what matters.

Think of a cool story idea at work? Jot it down. Remember something you need to do on the way home? Birthdays? Events? Goals? Jot it down. There are no rules. If it's important to you, keep it.

The pocket notebook isn’t really intended to be a super-organized or coherent space for your thoughts. It’s a catch-all for things that might slip your mind later. Then, when you get a chance to rest at the end of your day, you can look back and transfer that idea to something a little more organized. This can be a more structured planner, a journal, a story document, a discord chat, etc.

But hey…maybe that’s still not your cup of tea. You don’t have the time to sit down and reflect on your day. You don’t want to have to organize everything into neat little boxes. It’s just a concept at this point, but…I might have something for you.

✒ MY PSEUDO-PLANNER METHOD

This is in part adapted from other methods I’ve seen people use, but specifically made with my partner’s struggles in mind. He has been using his phone’s default to-do list to write down tasks, but by doing so other things get pushed to the bottom. There’s no real way to “prioritize” them, and after years of using this system there were simply so many that he didn’t know where to start.

So, after a little bit of nudging, I had my partner write down every single thing in his phone’s notes and to-do list in the front of his pocket notebook. Since he struggles with prioritization, I went ahead and did the following steps for him. (If you struggle with this and have a friend, partner, or family member willing to do the same thing, definitely use them as a resource!)

✒ STEP-BY-STEP PROCESS

I chose three things my partner NEEDED to get done before a certain deadline (In this case, seeing his parents for Thanksgiving).

I transferred them to a clean page and wrote the due date at the top.

I crossed those tasks off of the task masterlist.

I “sealed” his task masterlist with a piece of washi tape (masking/painters tape also works great!)

I left space at the bottom of the page for additional notes he may think of throughout the week.

For many neurodivergent people, seeing a HUGE LIST OF THINGS YOU NEED TO DO is the single most discouraging thing ever. By removing the list of things from normal view, I’m relying on the theory of “out of sight, out of mind”. Of course, that doesn’t mean you can’t still get those things done! It’s more about tricking your brain into only thinking about the most important things you have to do in that time period. And then...getting the satisfaction of crossing them out once they're complete.

I have actually been using a method quite similar to this for my full planner. I tape folded half-pages full of long term goals, purchases, and other lists to my monthly page so that I can go back and reference them when I feel up for a new task. By keeping them hidden from my regular view it helps me feel less anxious about ALL THE THINGS I WANT TO ACHIEVE and I can instead focus on the short-term necessities.

(Please excuse my mess...I'm moving into a Hobonichi Cousin for 2024, and figuring out my process in this cheap planner in the meantime!)

✒ OTHER TIPS

Pick a notebook you like! Paper smoothness, paper thickness, size, lined, dotted, gridded, etc.

Use a writing utensil you enjoy! Rollerball, fountain pen, sharpies, pencil, whatever!

Think of it as a sensory experience when it comes to the above. If you enjoy the act of it, you’re more likely to do it!

If you are able to carry around two differently-colored pens, use one to underline/add contrast for readability.

Use a paperclip to keep your place.

If you have it available, use sticky notes for tentative plans that aren’t set in stone yet.

You ARE allowed to tear pages out, cut them, modify the cover, etc. NO RULES! It's your spce.

You can prevent bleedthrough to other pages by keeping a thin, paper-sized object behind your page. (Like shitajiki/pencil boards)

✒ CONCLUSION

The main point behind EVERYTHING I’ve written here is that digital tools aren’t for everyone. Notion, Obsidian, Trello, etc. are great resources, and there are many people who have great success when using them. However, I am sure there are many other people like my partner and I who have developed a kind of “clutter blindness” to things that aren’t immediately in front of them.

You aren’t stupid for needing things broken down into exact, detailed steps. You aren’t inherently irresponsible because you miss deadlines or misplace important information. You need accessibility. The world may not be built for people like us, but there are so many ways you can learn to help yourself achieve your goals

(Please feel free to add your ideas and modifications to this post! I'd love to see what your methods are-- perhaps they might help me, as well!)

[tinyvesselhearts]

There's no place for us to stay (Egon x Reader)

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt/comfort, Reader's father was a cultist

It's Chapter 10 of my Thing Is fanfic. Can be read as standalone.

It’s nine in the evening. You crack the window and roll down the blinds. New York is a noisy city at any hour and you’ve grown used to it— to the incessant humming of engines, puddled streets and distant laughing— but in the familiar cacophony of sounds you hear one that seems unusual. You lean towards the pane and listen. There’s nothing there for a few seconds but when the noise appears once more, you realize it does not come from the city.

Someone’s knocking on the door.

You approach it, steps quiet, muscles tense. One peek through the peephole sets you at ease.

“Egon?”

You unlock the door. He’s there: tired, hair tousled from the air outside, cheeks cold. His eyes are focused and a little too alert for your liking.

“…Hi.” He breathes out. “I’m sorry for disturbing you so late but it’s urgent.”

“Come in.”

“Thank you.”

Your apartment is small but rather neat. You move near your cot and desk, slide into the kitchen and switch on the kettle. Egon follows through the room, mindful of knick- knacks laying on the floor. He walks inside. Leans back against the fridge, facing you. You pull out a mug for him, put in a sachet and hop on the counter.

The space is narrow. Clean air seeps through the window. Heat radiates. You almost touch.

“The subject came round”, Egon informs. “Am I mistaken to recall that it was Yog- Sothoth who tainted your father’s mind?”

“That’s correct. Is it somehow connected to our new acquaintance?”

“I hate to say it but yes. He claims to be his child. I suppose it was a metaphor but you can see how it all ties up to a very saddening conclusion.”

“…My dad?”

He nods.

The kettle whistles and you move to turn it off immediately, then tilt it and watch the teabag sink in hot water. A cloud of steam hits your face.

“Honestly, it sucks. I knew it somehow but hoped… I just hoped…” You shake your head, putting the kettle away. “…Uh. It’s not that easy. I was a kid. I don’t remember a lot, just bits and pieces. Nothing usable, really.”

“You’ve mentioned your father kept a journal.”

“My father’s diaries are in my uncle’s possession. He won’t give them to me. I’ve tried to talk him into that but he… he won’t do it. Not after what my dad did.”

Egon stares you in the eyes and raises a brow.

“We could try talking to him together.”

“You’re unhinged.”

“True. But I look reasonable.”

You bark out a laugh but it’s comes out a little teary. You haven’t slept enough for a long time now. The thoughts invading your mind are hazy and corrosive, they bump into your feelings and make you dizzy. Head feels light. Eyelids heavy. There’s a single drop hanging in the corner of your eye— but it’s okay, it’s a wound that’ll heal— and you’re not even sure why you’re crying but you are. In a few seconds your laugh turns into a sob, then another.

You hide your face away, cover it with both hands. Breathing seems hard all of a sudden. Eyes flooded and helpless. You bite your tongue and wait for the pain to mend whichever part of your soul is cracking.

Egon straightens and that’s enough for your knees to touch his hips. He offers you a hand. You reject it.

“No, no”, you swallow a bile. “I’m alright.”

“You don’t seem alright.”

You shake your head. Wipe the tears away. Cheeks are wetter than you thought.

“You’re one in a million, Egon Spengler. It’s my issue and I have to cope”, you sigh, looking through the window. “Let’s get it over with. I’ll just grab my coat and we’re going to get those diaries. The sooner, the better.”

“Are you sure you’re in a condition to go?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll pass. I cry for no reason sometimes.”

You slide off of the counter, oddly brushing against his abdomen and chest. You don’t dare look into his eyes. There’s a task at hand— a task you haven’t been strong enough to fulfill by yourself. Uncle Neil’s going to be pissed. He’ll yell and remind you of all the things you wish you’d forget. You hate it. Dread it. Despise going back to your youth because it’s all tainted with a huge, dark splat— with underlying grief and horror, forbidden knowledge spoiling your home and you were aware of none of it at that point. What happened later poisons the entire memory. You shut it out and haven’t looked that way in a long time.

You fasten the buttons of the coat. Your hands are shaking. Egon helps you with it and gently wraps a scarf around your neck.

The streets are cold and uninviting. Whatever comfort you’ve found in New York’s bustling aura has vanished— it’s all white noise now, dirt and smog, and neon lights. You walk on and on, leading Egon through the infrastructural maze. A few shortcuts taken, a few crossroads passed and you end up in a familiar area— steep pavement escalates like stairs, every step you trudge heavier, dejecting. Cracked concrete tiles have given in to mossy tufts. The air is wet and filled with scents of gravel, exhaust, junk and rubber— all of them painting a tactile reflection of the New York which became your home. Tonight, though, it’s anything but.

When you approach the dark mahogany door it’s almost ten.

Your heart  is racing. Uncle Neil might not even be in there. A part of your brain tries to placate the other but your body reacts for itself: cold sweat and shivers are hard to ignore. You reach out. Knock. Wait.

Footsteps come from the other side. Then, your whispered name. Whatever courage and strength you’ve had is gone right this instant and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, don’t cry—

The door cracks open. A familiar, slightly hunched old man rounds his eyes. His wrinkled features look warm but hardened by years of internal turmoil.

“Uncle—” you manage but his stern look diverts toward Egon.

“Who’s this?”

“Can we come in?”

He’s stalling for a good moment. He gives Egon a once- over, judges his hair, glasses, scarf and coat— and dear God, you’re grateful Egon’s right about looking like a trustworthy, reasonable man because uncle Neil doesn’t ask any more questions. He lets you in and closes the door.

“So?”

You swallow. You want to cling to Egon’s arm but it’s not the time.

“Do you remember when I told you about the men I met a while back?”

“…Are you serious? And you dare bring him home?”

“He’s a good friend. He knows what he’s doing”, you rush to say but it’s not leveled anymore, it’s almost desperate. “They’re scientists, uncle, not cultists.”

Neil’s teeth clench. Fists do, too. His face contorts into an awful expression you’ve tried to forget. It’s ugly, tough and unforgiving, and can only lead to a fight.

“You have learnt nothing. Stupid girl! You’re bringing doom on us all over again!”

“It isn’t like that! Please, just let me explain—"

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. And he’s, what, luring you in with some cheap tricks? You’ll go down right the same path Nancy did! One of them will charm you, get married and use you for whatever godforsaken practices they perform in the basement!  And you…”, Neil shakes his head, fuming. “You’ll stand by and watch your life get turned into ruin.”

You clench your teeth and fists. You shouldn’t engage, you should focus now— it’s not about you, it’s the diaries, don’t let it escalate— but it’s late, you’re tired and a flood of raw emotion overrides common sense.

“Do you honestly think I’d ever commit to someone who takes interest in ghosts after everything that happened?” You yell. “All I’m trying to do is the right thing! It’s not just about us anymore!”

“And it should stay that way! Not every fight is worth your time and effort. You have to let some things go, honey. It’s not your burden.”

“You’re right, sir. It’s ours”, Egon interjects. “I’m doctor Egon Spengler of the Ghostbusters. We are professionals. You might have heard. It’s not about you or your family but people who are getting hurt right this moment. We have reasons to assume the spreading sickness is a direct result of your brother’s misconduct. Every bit of information could help, the sooner the better. I will personally make sure your niece stays away from danger.”

“She could be away from danger, weren’t it for you!”

“The wrath of your brother stalks generations. His children as well. I hate to say this but I believe she might have been subjected to some shady practices and has been haunted by them for some time.”

“The names are there”, you whisper. “Yog- Sothoth. I didn’t want to tell you, you’d panic, it would be the ranch all over again…”

You’re caving in but Egon’s stare is calm and unwavering. He keeps looking into Neil’s eyes: honest, sensible, composed— and after a long minute Neil’s anger finally abates. He sighs, glances at you and takes note of how you’re half- hidden behind Egon’s coat. It’s safe, you want to say. He’s safe.

Uncle Neil straightens up.

“Look at the position I’m in, doctor Spengler. Put yourself in my shoes. What would you do?”

“Keep my family safe at all costs”, he says, doubtless. “Even if that took a toll on me.”

They stare at each other some more and then the unthinkable happens— Neil sighs, yields and disappears in a room on the left. Hollow sounds of moved furniture come from behind the door and when everything quiets down, the old man reemerges with his hands full.

The diaries.

“I’ll give them to your friend— and exclusively him”, he states. “I am parting with it with a heavy heart. Believe me, there’s nothing I hate more than giving them away. The amount of evil this knowledge can cause is abominable. You, honey, are strictly forbidden from reading it. That’s for your own sanity. Can you promise me that? No reading, not even a peek, are we clear?”

“Yes, uncle. We are. I won’t read it, cross my heart.”

He turns to Egon. Extends his hand and passes two thick tomes to him.

“This is it, doctor Spengler. The pink diaries”, he seems to hesitate for a second but the moment Egon touches the covers, Neil lets go. “They’re your responsibility. She’s the apple of your eye. Protect her. Do what you must. Don’t let me down.”

“Understood, sir.”

---

Neither of you speaks for the better part of your walk home. The air is crisp. Bits of sand and dirt crunch beneath your feet. As some point you reach for Egon’s hand and he hooks a pinky around your finger. It’s not much— and oddly apprehensive— but you try not to think much of it.

You take a final turn onto your street when Egon breaks the silence.

“What was you reason for joining our team?”

“Don’t you remember? I wanted to apply to Uni, Studies of the Paranormal. That’s the closest I could get.”

“At your uncle’s house you said you’d never commit to someone who took interest in ghosts.” He sounds a little distant, lost in thought. “Job is a form of commitment. And this job, specifically, exposes you to the very thing you swore to avoid.”

You shrug and let go of his hand.

“It’s different”, you utter. “I wouldn’t get married to my job. Or start a family. It’s strictly professional, not personal, it’s just… different.”

“But it’s not. Your uncle has a point there. You keep saying you want to stay away from the paranormal for fear of getting hurt, and yet you seem strikingly attracted to it.”

The tone is leveled but for some reason it feels almost accusatory. Your brows knit.

“Can we… not?”

“I want to understand.”

“Not today. Please.”

“Why?”

“It’s been a hectic few weeks”, you explain. “I’m exhausted. Let’s not do this today, shall we?”

“You do realize it isn’t going to get any calmer as long as you’re with us though, right?”

“Alright, hang on. That’s… whatever it is—” you grunt, pent up exasperation finding its way out. “What’s the point you’re trying to make? Do you want to ditch me from the team? Is that your way of protecting me?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve spotted inconsistency in your viewpoint and it bothers me. You haven’t just applied for any job. You’re working with the specialists on the paranormal. You are personally committed. We are friends.”

“Okay! Okay, maybe I am attracted to the paranormal, maybe I adore learning about it and maybe I finally feel like I belong somewhere, alright? I’m surrounded by people who don’t treat it as a curse, who share the enthusiasm! Who don’t try to force a taboo on my past but help me understand”, you pant. “I want you to prove me wrong, I try to convince myself it’s temporary but I’ve grown fond of you and it’s only making things harder. I’m getting attached. Comfortable. And it’s horrifying.”

You’re at your wit’s end— so much so that you fail to recognize your body’s trembling— but Egon doesn’t seem deterred by this. He keeps looking you in the eyes, takes a step forward.

“Only because your premise is fallacious. All things are temporary. You cannot escape the inevitable but you can decide what to do with the time you’re given.”

“Wow. Thanks for spelling it out for me. It magically made me feel worse.”

“Because you misunderstand. Fighting the passage of time is useless. You’re wasting your time and energy on things you can’t control and it is the sole reason for your despair”, he says. “Why not focus on possibilities instead? Enjoy what life brings. Allow yourself to let go for a change.”

“Let go?” You wheeze. “That’s rich, coming from you. Working your ass off to the point of falling asleep on a microscope? Dating a mood slime in the name of science? Offering me to sleep in your bed just to collect data?... All you do has a cause and purpose, Egon. Have you ever tried actually feeling something?”

The silence that follows is terrifying.

A car passes by. Some fliers get pushed by a gust of wind, then tarnished as they tangle into somebody’s shrub. Yesterday’s newspaper lands in a puddle of mud. It drowns in the sewer.

“Thanks for walking me home”, you manage because there isn’t much you can say.

“Pleasure. I shall go back to the station and start reading before our subject wakes again.”

“…Yes. See you tomorrow.”

A bile in your throat is almost unbearable so you walk towards the entrance of your apartment building. Each step you take is begrudging. It almost feels like the mud from the street crawls up your ankles and sheens— wraps around your legs, slows you down— like your trudging gets heavier— like the words you said taste of dirt and grime, and you should apologize but you don’t know how—

“Do you really think I don’t feel anything?”

You turn around.

Egon is still there, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His cheeks and nose are red from the cold. He’s calm. He's patient. He’s a beautiful soul.

Somehow your heart sinks even further.

“…I’m sorry. It was insolent. I keep forgetting you could fire me.”

“We’re talking as friends now, not coworkers.”

“I should not have said that”, your voice shakes, “I owe you an apology. Please, forgive me. It’s lack of sleep and constant stress. And probably having to face some heavy family shite I fully intended to forget about. Shouldn’t have brought it out on you, Egon. You’re a good man. I'm sorry.”

“I could stay with you tonight.”

“No”, you say because the guilt’s consuming you. “Go back to the station, Ray’s fresh out of the hospital. He’s in no shape to keep watch over our guest all night. I’ll cope.”

“If anything happens—”

“I’ll call.”

“…Right.”

When you walk into your apartment, it’s dark and cold again. You notice a full mug of cool tea standing by the sink.

You close your eyes, grab it and pour it down the drain.

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

New opportunities are available now for routines and being able to do tasks that won't be interrupted by needs of littles. I can now let myself design my day around my energy and be able to hyperfocus on executive and administrative tasks I was never really able to with all the chaos and the unpredictable nature of a neuro-spicy household and managing my own emotions and demand avoidance. All while going through a divorce and all the fun stuff that comes with that. Right now it's managing our egos. I'm fine unless he gets emotionally immature. Then my wits and knives come out and I start to let him know exactly what pattern of behavior he is showing me, how long it has been going on, where I have it documented, and how it has affected me until I began healing it. If I have enough executive function, though, I just gentle parent him like the kids and kind of validate without letting any personal aspect of myself engage with the bullshit. Then I affirm that the next wife can train him out of his toxic habits, that my only concern is getting all of us out of here alive. If I design a routine that meets all of my needs, all other functions that have suffered or regressed since the burnout should resurface and I can integrate them in a way that allows me to both summon them and be confident in my abilities. My environment before would be disrupted most of the time within 15-20 minutes, so it was difficult to really sink into any task with a lot of focus. Since I'm transitioning to this time with kids at school, this is the perfect time to create something I'm happy with to follow for the rest of the year. The above steps are a great start. I can now go to temple for day time meditations, which will also help with my ability to focus and calm my spirit - which then opens me up to more abundant thinking and less self-doubt and limits. The chronic urgency may have stemmed from knowing I always had such a limited time to truly let myself focus with my entire brain. And because so much of childcare is chore work and problem solving problems that are mostly emotional regulation and conflict resolution driven... there just wasn't any dopamine or motivation for much else. That can change now, especially since that urgent pressure has all but completely vanished. The trapped feeling too has gone away. This process should be smoother than I thought, but I do need to make sure to put intentional thought behind it. Bought three journals since the store I usually get them in isn't carrying them. Excited to begin new ways of thinking and routines and projects. Have been getting on indeed daily to train body into not seeing the website as the enemy or a complete listing of everything that will likely reject me. This is a big improvement. I still sweat a bit, but I don't have all the internal discomfort. My mind still swirls around a bit, so I just read listings without having to engage with them, and let myself just be in the environment. Job hunting exposure therapy. Still think remote will be best. Have been brainstorming with chatgpt about different job titles and talents I have that might interest me. Excited to started journaling about all of that in the new notebooks. I got a cerulean blue, a peachy coral, and a juniper green colors in the notebooks. I should also pack up more of my room. When I start to feel anxious or have intrusive thoughts, it usually means I need to do cardio and move my body. I try to do that after the kids come home so it kind of balances all of us in the energy. Sometimes they want to dance too so it makes for a good connection activity. I enjoy the silence. I enjoy the longer focusing. I'm able to watch and read things for longer now without feeling like I'm going to be forced to leave just when my brain starts working on a fascinating concept. It makes everything more enjoyable. This is all going to work out very nice.

What I learned about my brain and routines as a person with ADHD and autism:

The number one strategy that I've been implementing is

Eliminate any and all decisions to avoid being burnt out by 10 am

My partner turns on the radio as soon as he leaves for work, so I'm not met with the decision of putting on a podcast or music as soon as I wake up

I have the same breakfast every day and this might change, the basic concept here is, that it doesn't require any fresh ingredients so that I always have breakfast available even if I forgot to get groceries because I take my meds in the morning

Moving to the bathroom is a little tricky sometimes but when I'm there, I can do everything I need to do to get ready in one room and in sight so I remember to actually do them (including my clothes because I undress anyways to shower)

I simplified my wardrobe so every shirt goes with every pair of pants so it doesn't really matter what I pick, it will always look (somewhat) put together

Also, dressing to be comfortable instead of dressing to look nice was a huge thing for me. That simple mindset shift truly eliminated so many decisions I was making and that were truly tiring me out

What also really helped, is, that I stopped tying my routine to a certain time. Now, I realize that this is a privilege because I don't work at the moment but this truly changed things for me because it became a lot less daunting once I eliminated a lot of decisions. I don't have to mentally prepare myself to get ready anymore and I consider that a huge win because I have a lot more energy throughout the day.

I realize that these things are not new in any ways, shape or form but I have a very hard time unlearning things I was thought as a child. Maybe seeing that other people do things "differently" helps someone else.

[catboii]

← Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 → Full Thread

[Excerpt taken from Agent 23's personal diary]

[Day ####]

Oh wow. I’ve missed a few days here. A lot has been happening at home and I had to take a few days off to focus on non work things. 

My dog Macy had a stomach ulcer, but the Vet gave me some medication for her and wrote up a new diet to put her on, which will work better with my work schedule. Now she has a special dry food left out all the time, which is measured out on scales, and she gets wet food before I leave for work, and when I get home, even on the days I’m not working, just a better routine to back up the better food. I was always feeding her just whenever when I had a day off. It sounds a little anal, and the food is more expensive, but I’d do anything for her. I can’t imagine waking up one morning and her not being there laying at the foot of my bed, awake but patiently waiting for me to get up, to go make coffee, and have breakfast together. 

She’s seemed fine since the medication, and I think the better schedule is good for her. It’s only been a few days but she’s already getting used to the new times. And the food seems to make her alot less gassy than the old cheap food I used to get her. 

I had started to fear the worst, but I was trying to keep it out of my work life. I think I was focusing so much on work, that I didn’t give my home life enough thought. Although maybe I was subconsciously trying to keep it out of my mind because I didn’t want to think about it. 

But enough about that, this is supposed to be my WORK journal. 

Even though I don’t HAVE a home journal, I don’t have time to sit around and write at home, and I have other more interesting things to do if I even did. I just write this in my downtime at work, once I’ve finished up all my tasks for the day. They still pay me for being here, so technically I get paid for writing this! This is the best job ever. 

… There I go again.

Back at work, I checked with my Overseer if anyone had taken over my place with that crow looking creature, but no one had! At first I felt bad, because that means it’s been left alone all this time, but part of me was kind of happy? Because that means that I’m still the only person it’s been talking to.

… That’s a weird statement huh. ‘Its been talking to’, it’s not talking to me! I’m just talking to it. Although it feels like we’re kind of communicating? In a way. 

I went back today and it turned slowly to the sound of the intercom, like it did the first time I spoke to it, but then when I said who I was, it seemed to perk up. It sat there for a bit, and when I started telling it I went to see the vet and that my dog was going to be alright, it stepped forward and sat facing the door. I told it that she’d started seeming like her old self again, and it sort of… fluffed up. It almost looked… happy? 

I don’t know…

[Day ####]

Sometimes the Anomaly reacts a lot, sometimes not much at all, but it still always turns and seems interested in the greeting speech. It seems to like hearing me talk about animals. I only had my dog to talk about because I don’t get out much, but I got permission from the Overseer to bring in a book about wildlife from the foundation fibrary to read to it over the intercom (they don’t call it a library, it’s a multi something depository~ but it’s full of books, so it’s a library to me, even though there’s lots of other things there). After the initial greeting, I told it this, and read out the intro in the book. It walked off as I was reading the boring parts, I guess, it didn’t want to hear about the habitats or how hard it was to photograph any of the animals, so I skipped ahead to an article on red foxes. It perked up partway through and came closer to the speaker. As I was reading through a section on birds it put it’s wings out and flapped, as if saying, “that’s me!” I skipped through until I found another bird entry. It seemed to like those. 

Tomorrow I might ask if I can go inside.

Just inside the first door, maybe.

So that it can see me. 

[sparklywastelandmentality]

So, this is the first time I have done something like this as far as -actually- deciding to just vent. I love to write and I love to journal and unfortunately sometimes shit happens in life that really just gets under my skin, or I just had a thought about nothing in particular that my mind goes down rabbit holes on that I happen to find interesting. However, I don't always have my journal and pen with me whilst I'm out and about. Sometimes, that shit's a bummer. So yeah, essentially I have decided to come here and talk through some stuff.

Probably like most people, I have problems with emotion management. Anger, more specifically. For as long as I can remember, I have lived most in anger. I imagine I am not alone in this boat. Having been in and out of therapy off and on since I was a teenager, they have all concluded that I have Manic BiPolar Depression. I guess that's different from 'regular' depression somehow? Granted the way I perceive an emotion (whatever it may be) could be different from how my neighbor or husband feels the same emotions. Everyone's different. Living with BPD feels like you're a visitor in your own body. It feels like you're only allowed to pop in and say 'hi' when it gets bored or tired. When I feel that feeling I get a small glimmer of relief until it decides that it wants me to go back in this little box in the corner of my mind. All the high days are great when they happen and low days are still pretty rough, yet have become easier to manage (without medications) as time has continued to drone on. Feeling like I'm not allowed to have control over my emotions and feelings further perpetuates and deepens the loop of what most would call "self-sabotage".

As time has gone on, I have found it easier with time for me to get along with myself for a lack of a better way of putting it. Much like the rest of the world, my upbringing was fucking bullshit. I can't and am REFUSING to speak for anyone else when I say that my flesh portals into this realm were absolute, hot garbage. Both are also to blame for ALMOST EVERYTHING wrong with me. When it came to handling anger, my father had no issue telling you what was on his mind and how dumb you were for trying to do shit that was ill-explained in the beginning prior to starting tasks. He was a screamer and leaned towards the physical side of expressing this emotion in particular. If I were to -try- and take the time to explain to you some of the stories; this post would never end. My mother, on the other hand, when dealing with her anger she's a massively petty and childish individual. Just imagine the stereotypical high school mean girl, add meth and about fifteen to eighteen years and there ya go. Some of the fights we have had in the past had ended with me walking away because I don't want my fucking heartbroken by literally the one person we are all just supposed to trust from day one, by saying and quote, "I was only a bad parent because you didn't come with the instruction manual when you were born." Like, excuse me, bitch? CHILDREN HAVE NEVER EVER come with instruction Manuel's and it should NEVER be the oldest siblings' responsibility to 'step up' to the plate and raise the other sibling(s). Unfortunately, none of us got that choice. And if you were/are in a situation like that, I'm sorry and my heart hurts for you. As forementioned with my father, my mother would probably have to have her own post... DON'T DO METH KIDS!

So yeah, with those two 'shining' examples of homosapiens getting me started in life and watching the way they handled their anger, that's what I thought was okay and acceptable, and having to spend so far eighty-six percent of my life alone, I am having to work super fucking hard to make sure that I don't end up like them and I would say so far so good. Growing up I had a dream about becoming a professional wrestler and I am so thankful to whatever ultimate power there is out there, that I actually get to wake up and be excited about life because I get to say I am the only one in the immediate family that has had a dream as crazy as this (maybe they did, I don't give a shit.) In a weird way, I feel like I'm above them. That may sound crude to those who only read this and will never have the misfortune of meeting my mother (father died, just waiting on the last one to go at this point.) "You shouldn't talk about her that way, she's your mom." Yeah well, just the same as she shouldn't have picked meth over her kids. If she decides to get clean, good for her, if not, still no skin off my shoulders there pal. I'm living my dream, she smoked hers away. She had the chance when she was a junior in High school to become a full-out actual model. She fucked that off by getting her a tattoo just because she wanted it -in the moment- without it thinking about the toll it would have on her life later down the road.

Yeah, I know we're all fucked up, shaken never stirred and always sit a little too far over to the left, and everyone has issues that are similar if not pretty close. I just don't know anyone in real life that I feel I can talk to about these types of things. I would talk to my husband about it but I stopped doing so when I started listening to myself as I talked. Repetition, Repetition, Repetition. I got self-conscious about talking the poor man's ear off about the same stupid shit. As his wife I am supposed to be there and make sure his life is positive and not the other way around. I guess in a weird way, it would be kind of nice to know that I'm not alone right now. In my day to day activities I am the only person I know of who has BPD. Shit is lonely. Almost isolating.

Sorry for the long post if you made it this far, neat! Thanks for indulging me, friends.

[straycatboogie]

2023/07/28 English

BGM: OPUS III - I Talk To The Wind

Today I worked late. This morning I wrote my poem at the food court at AEON as usual. I do work, and also write my ones steadily by using about an hour per a day. This is my style. I write with obeying my rule dutifully and constantly. Although we can remember that there were a lot of poets and authors who had lived their chaotic lives, I know that I have no talent as them. I can neither enjoy any alcohol nor drugs. Although I have coffee, I'm not interested in seeing the imaginary states which can be beyond our ordinary life. I am interested in the poetry which comes from the ordinary, orthodox life with sober mind. When I write my poems, I start writing English version. At first, I try to use the system of rhyming, and I start building my one step by step, one sentence to another sentence. And I write it as a draft on a notebook. After writing that, I rewrite it at the resting time in my work. Going back to my group home, I upload it onto my blog. It seems to be a duty/task for me instead of any creation. No enigmatic... But that kind of task would bring me something important.

About yesterday's journal, a friend of mine, Victoria, was pleased by reading that. My success.... I read the message from her via WhatsApp, and I cried a little. Yes, it was really a long, long road to live, or survive... I am really a lucky person. But it couldn't be the achievement I couldn't have done by myself. I remember that my job coach and I have done the collaboration to accept various problems in our workplace. Or we also have kept on thinking various troubles/problems of us, the autistic members at the meetings. For example, the money management and also controlling our moods... Those experiences are still alive in me. I can see that I couldn't endure my work without my friends I had met via those meetings (They are really precious friends for me). I sent a message on LINE to them. I am thinking how about writing the poem I will dedicate to them. Through their existences, their kindness I can have learned that this world must be a wonderful place, and also this life has the worth to live. Indeed, sometimes the real life shows its teeth. But I say that I love my life.

I remember... Quitting alcohol is also the work I couldn't have done by myself alone. At the "danshu" meeting, we learn that "To keep on enduring alcohol must reach its limit one day" and "We can't quit alcohol by ourselves alone". If we try to have a strong will to keep on quitting alcohol, it will show a terrible result. We should try to keep on quitting alcohol loosely controlling ourselves calm and comfortable by the connections with other members. Me, I have had this "danshu" meeting, and now I can feel that I face the frustration honestly with solving the desire of drinking alcohol again. The creation, which is what I am into besides quitting alcohol... or the reading itself might be the one we have to enjoy with other people, not alone. Of course, when I read and write, I have to stay lonely to do those activities. Facing myself honestly, and trying to listening to my inner voice. But I should share that voice with someone else finally. The things I will write will end as the ones other readers read (or when the readers read and accept the things, it can become another beginning). I have reached this simple truth.

Thinking like that, I see that quitting alcohol and creation are the ones of "collaboration". I am thinking that human beings are basically weak (of course, I am also weak). Those weak existences try to connect with others, do the collaboration then it will start any unexpected works... Or I start thinking the theory in Haruki Murakami's "Hear The Wind Sing". "Civilization is communication". The "communication" can't be achieved without the other person. We create our own works to do communication with others. This means also "connection with another person"... I have thought that helping others through learning English can tell my dream. To become a bridge... But now, I think that my creation, my reading, my activities sharing can work as the result of being a bridge. As a bridge, I will "connect" other people. I remember that once I was really a weak coward. Oh my, it sounds like Atsushi Nakajima's novel. I am never a genius. I want to enjoy a lot of collaborations even though it sometimes would hurt me.

True Color of the Sun

I wondered if the sun had its true color And I asked this to my father and my mother They answered me, "It depends on those people's own culture Maybe there could be the one which says the sun is a dark matter".

I thought it must be mysterious... like cheated by a fox But, by now I'm keeping that idea anywhere in my mind box I write this kind of nonsense poems. Not as an art. Just to detox "If AI added her melody with these lines..." This idea suddenly knocks

Do you think my idea, my poetry can be strange? It's too unique? Indeed, I'm a creep. I'm just a heavy music freak Classmates used to say to me "You're mad at all. Be meek!"

Yes, I still try to do so. But I feel that my head is just chaotic I need no alcohol and drugs. This mind is truly narcotic Like a kind of avant-garde music. For example, the one by Lotic

[sucaliaric]

17 April - Colorado by Night - Audio Journal by Elias

 We provided the bleeding Garou to the dragon kin; they seemed pleased, but apparently this was simply a test.  Sam requested a guard for Sherri, and the lead Garou gave us a package to deliver to an address for a key to the door - they indicated this was the task Splinter completed each month.  I feel we are being given the run around, but Todd is very clear on our path forward.  We rest for the night, and reconvene the following day.  This gives me the opportunity to feed and recover from the fight to recover Sherri; the beast nearly consumed me with rage as the events of the night unfolded, and even the fire did not effect it.  It is good to reach balance with the beast again, and prepare for the next steps in this strange task - I have confidence that it will only get more strange.  We make the drive to retrieve the key - it is on the other side of Denver, nearly 3 hours by car.  Todd drives us, and we make fast time until we find the address.  An aged trailer home in poor repair sits in front of us; Todd and Sam are concerned as always, but we are where we belong.  I walk up and knock - an old voice inquires if we are Splinter, and I make it clear that we are replacing Splinter.  The door opens, and the old man in front of me looks near death.  He invites us in, and Sam and I enter and make small talk - Sam seems to be very interested in this old man, and the package from the wolves appears to contain a number of off-brand snacks and candies similar to what Little Debbie offers.  I am unsure of why this is a valuable drop - the old man is thrilled with the offerings, and intends to offer the food to children of the area.  I never would have expected this level of community care for the neighborhood from the Garou - perhaps they are better creatures than I thought.  The old man offers us our payment - he opens a KFC bucket and pulls out a bone wrapped in kite string.  What sort of key is this?  I use my senses to sense the unseen, and it is very clear that the old man has powerful magic and the chicken bone is magical as well.  Sam continues to make small talk, and begins to act very strangely.  He is suddenly very eager to leave - he seems almost afraid of the kind old man... We make our leave, and I advise Todd of what happened.  Sam must have said something as well, because Todd is very ready to leave now - we make the trip back to Fort Collins and plan to visit the playground in the park to speak with Reggie and the squirrel-child to see what our next steps are.  The trip to the playground goes without issue; Reggie seems surprised and delighted that we made it this far.  He uses the key to draw a door in the air, then unlock and open the door.  This is... incredible.  It looks like an alternate path into the magical world that these creatures call home; for this trip Reggie says that we have to go to a goblin and pick up some meat pies to take to the council.  Reggie warns that I should bring more than one, as the council will fight over just one.  Todd states that he and Sam will come with me this time, so I speak to the squirrel-child and I believe that he may have agreed not to damage the car... we will see.  "Pookanese" is very hard to decipher sometimes.  We walk through the door, and begin to head towards the "Dark Forest".  This area is less bright and cheerful than the previous direction, but it is still very clearly more in tune with the realities of time than the outside world.  Sam asks if we have entered into my mind - I am unsure if he is serious or not, but such is usually the case with Sam.  We approach a split in the road, and Todd asks which way from here - I choose but as we walk, a living tree of some sort seems to come from nowhere in the fork.  It asks what we are doing here - a reasonable question when strangers enter your home.  I advise that we are visiting the goblin king to retrieve meat pies for the council, but he does not seem to be accepting of that.  Apparently, the goblin bakes the pies for him - I invite him to travel with us, which he agrees to do.  Sam and Todd seem to be uncomfortable; true, our new friend did nearly stake us with his fingers when we approached, but they should really be more understanding of how the future will play out... or the past?  Nevertheless, we are peacefully walking through the forest in a relatively marshy area when Todd decides to go swimming! Without warning, he dives into the water, and a few moments later I see a giant eel following him.  How foolish can he be?  Does he not realize that this forest could have dangerous creatures in it?    I ask our tree-friend to help Todd, and his fingers once again grow into giant spears, piercing the eel and killing it instantly.  Todd seems to have tired of swimming, as he comes out and we continue our journey.  Before long we see the village - but our ally is unable to enter the village for some reason, stating that it is not allowed.  I tell him I will retrieve his pies for him, and confidently walk into the village, looking for the goblin baker.  It is not long before I spy the hut - the cook is home and baking even now!  I approach and knock, waiting for a response.  A voice askes what I am here for, and I tell him that I am here to pick up four pies for the tree and for the council.  The voice says he only has two, and I should come back tomorrow.  I tell him I will take the two for now, and our ally will pick the remaining two up tomorrow - but he says our ally will kill him on his way to get ingredients!  He apparently goes to the town to pick up the meat, and our ally does not usually let him by.  I am sure that this must be a misunderstanding, but I tell him I can work it out.  He then asks for a leaf or branch from our friend, so I return to ask.    Once back, I realize - we never asked our ally his name!  I ask, and he does not seem to remember having a name.  I tell him I will call him Groot, and ask about the leaf or branch.  Groot is not willing to allow that, as he believes that the goblin cook will use it to hurt him.  Why would anyone hurt a forest spirit such as this, when it is so friendly?  I go to confront the goblin as the monster it is; after some discussion, I do get two of the pies and I let Groot know that he will need to let the goblin chef by tomorrow to get more ingredients, and then Groot will receive a meat pie for his troubles.  Todd, Sam, and I return to the council - they feast on the pies with great enjoyment, and our task is done.

[badwolfweightloss-blog]

2-15 Strengths in action

This is rather hard. I guess I need to first come up with a list of challenges and then see if I can use a strength to help.

The challenges I need to work with consistently to lose weight and live a healthy life:

Plan meals, shop for meals, cook the meals, clean up after the meals

I guess I need to break that all up. They are different skills that have various amount of success for me. I plan meals well. I love doing it actually. I use my spreadsheet I created and sometimes tweak it to be even better. Its actually quite awesome. I created a binder that I am now using to collect recipes and make notes where needed. I think that's a game changer, actually, but time will tell. First I need to make enough recipes to make it really usable. The cooking part - well ... I often run out of time and energy near the end of my work day so, cooking is not high on my list of things I want to do at that point. Its even more challenging when the kitchen is wrecked from the previous meals. And, therein lies the issues. Nobody helps me clean. And I feel they should. And I've asked a billion times in a billion different ways. And still, its not ingrained. And hubby makes the kids do it if I say something, but he never drops everything and offers himself. And THAT is the issue for me. Why does he think his little wife should do it? Its demeaning. It makes me angry. But, he takes out the garbage and has other gender based roles, so I guess, its fair? I just hate it. So, if things were regularly cleaned, it would be one step closer to cooking more regularly without excuse.

Exercise: I have some health related issues that I've leaned on as reasons / excuses why I'm not exercising. But I must. I saw the doctor and he okd exercise. He said I need to work my VMO and IT band. So I need to figure that out. That's a challenge. I don't know much about it and I'm scared of doing it wrong and making my knee worse. But also, I told him cycling was ok - and he oked that too. At the very least, I should be on the bike. Or using the groupon for the pool exercise that I picked up. Going to planet fitness. Using my home treadmill. Working those quads. Putting the other seat on the nordic trak and actually biking. Going for a slow walk outside. I bought the sneakers, and they will be here soon. They are supposed to be good - the GTA 22s. So - that's what I have to do.

Not Binging: Well, that's the crux of it, isn't it? I know good planning helps. Feeling capable helps. Managing tough emotions helps. I think finding and turning towards helpful stress relief is the key here. Also, working on Foster's Self Compassion Shift, and perhaps practicing more self care, especially giving myself regular time outs and me time is very important.

Speaking of self-care: Self care. Its important. For me, that's activating a love of my body by buying small trinkets, wearing clothes I don't hate, keeping a journal and weight loss jar, keeping my hobbies going, doing my voice lessons and other music activities, and finding time to join/learn new things. Wouldn't mind working on myself socially a little too.

Boundaries: Setting them is hard for me, always has been. I live with this innate idea that other people are in charge, and that my purpose in life is to serve others. As a young person, that was my mother. When I had a friend, it was the friends I served. They said jump, I said ok. I thought I was supposed to bend to everyone else. This still happens - with my husband, even with my kids. My adult relationship with my mother still has these qualities. My boundaries need to be better defined.

Setting and remembering appointments/tasks/schedule. This has always been a weakness for me. I suppose if I'm going to successfully tackle everything else, lets put this on the list too. A good self image is somewhat dependent on me not feeling like I'm a failure at making my appointments. In the strength test, I scored low on questions about keeping my promises. This is largely due to having a poor system of remembering things. I lose the journals that I setup to keep reminders. I could do it on my phone, but ugh. I hate that. I hate being a slave to the stupid electronic device in my pocket. So this is something to work towards, but no simple answers. Yet.

Next up: Finding real solutions to these goals using my strengths. Yikes! I'm nervous!

[iphigeniainaulis]

In Gossamer Grey

I cannot describe how happy it makes me to participate in @flash-exchange. My victim was amazing @cottonfluffballofdoom, and honestly, thank you so much for putting Sebas on the list. Our boy needs more representation 💫

key words: Sebastian (Akihiko Satou) x Reader

promt: Journal Entry/Gossamer (metaphorically) and Poetry are also mentioned as I took a line from Oscar William’s ‘Dusk in a city’

*Blossoming Chestnut Branches by Vincent van Gogh

xx.xx.18xx Almost midnight

Haaah~

Another busy day. They say a child may bring you both endless joy and endless troubles, but what if you have ten of them? Hehe, I hope none of them will see it.

Today chestnut trees started to blossom, and flower beds of forget-me-not in front of Mozart’s windows emitted a beautiful scent of dark chocolate and verdant grass. I enjoyed it while doing laundry in the garden. Then Vincent joined me, and we both worked together to the accompaniment of soft music. What was that..

Oh, the Piano Concerto No. 20!

Vincent turned to me with his angelic smile that has a power to get inside your deepest thoughts and desires. I don't know how, but he once again hit the right spot, asking me about what (or who, to be precise) was on my mind,

‘Thinking of Sebas, right? It's impossible not to think of somebody you love while listening to such a passionate melody…’

I didn't know how to answer.

Stupid as it sounds, but I am almost ashamed to call my feelings towards him simply ‘love’. To give a name to such a strong and powerful force that may burn me is an act of depreciation of its nature. Or am I just overthinking things?

Yet, Vincent’s question made me wonder how exactly I feel about you, Akihiko-kun. I know you’ll never read this journal, so…why not be a little bit more open than usual?

All right, I…am madly in love with you. I am fond of your personality, the integrity of your character. Many people say they are seeking adventures and want to jump into them, yet very few of them are ready to bear the burden of responsibility that comes with every step and choice we make.

I admire how eager you are to learn more about the things you are keen on. Sometimes it reaches the point of absurdity, because, come on, boy, you can't just chase after the residents with your notes and exchange cigarettes for information about them with Leonardo, God save me, da Vinci!

Still, you take good care of the others, treating them not only as famous historical figures but also as a part of your family. And you’ve been treating me the same way since the very first day of my arrival at the mansion. You’ve wrapped me with invisible care, trying to make my life in the XIX century as comfortable and happy as possible. You always find something to praise me for, and even when I fail, you find just the right words to boost my spirit and make me want to become better.

Tell me, how can I not be in love with you?

(added later)

You know that I can't stand stuffy spaces, so you never ask me to clean the library or Leo’s room. Having learned that I like writing, you decided to give me the task to prepare reminder notes, daily news and just scribble lovely nothings for the residents to make them feel better.

Your kindness made me fall in love with you, and now I wonder whether my love is too selfish. Because I want all of you. You know, in your country there is that legend about two sides of love — ai and koi. You, Aki, is selfless ai who always gives. And I am your passionate koi who always takes. Your time, your future, present, past, your body, your destiny and soul.

But sometimes when the starry blanket of night covers the Earth and there is no sound of birds singing, everything changes. And I feel your hot shallow breathing on my face. Clever gloved fingers are on my shoulders, then reaching cheekbones and tracing along the line of my lips. You kiss me and then give that longing, wry smile of one particular stoic butler I worship so much. I can't help but see the gossamer grey dust of our dreams in your eyes and know that we’ve found peace in the quintessence of ai and koi in our hearts.