#the last part is similar to the ending ive always had in mind for my own angel demon story so maybe im biased but dkensk

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

ALWAYS BEEN THE FAVOURITE. 18+ [PART THREE]

tangerine x fem!reader

wc. 3833 summary. following the events of PLAYING THE FAVOURITE, your boss finds himself knocking at your door, returning something you’d forgotten in his office. you offer him inside with the promise of tea as a thanks, but only end up finishing off what you started this morning. six or so months worth of feelings pouring into a singular night warnings. boss x secretary!! general filth, a whole load of foreplay, dry humping bc I luv it, throat holding, protected pinv sex. mdni // YEEAAAAAH FINALLY GET THEM FUCKING!😫 also ik this isn’t tan, ive ran out of icons for him and this is only one that suits. just pretend he’s temporarily growing out his beard kay?

SERIES MASTERLIST

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Several hours had passed since the kiss, the memory of it just as fresh as if it had happened mere moments ago. It played on repeat all afternoon, occupying your every thought. A persistent memory following you home and through the shower you had taken to cleanse your mind. But still, to no avail, it remained intact. The kiss just as vivid.

Your boss failed to return back to you after promising to.‘I won't be long,’ appearing to be faulted words. But that feeling of hurt was short lived, a call to reception with Tangerine on the other side explaining the delay — letting you know almost immediately that plans were to overrun.

And with him out of the building for the rest of the day, you spent the last half of your shift in his office, playing boss at his desk. And while you sat in his chair, bored with lack of work, you found yourself observing what the office floor is like from the view of his enclosed windowed room. You found yourself staring at your desk through the windows, seeing an almost unobstructed view through the gap in the blinds. All of your desk’s trinkets and snowglobes and novelty knick-knacks on clear display.

It left you wondering how often you fell victim to his stares and glances. 

The events from this morning never seemed to part from you, memories and thoughts following you past dinner time. By now it had grown dark and you had started to settle down for the night, cleaned and washed — dressed in a long lounge dress and a knitted jumper. Odd, mismatched socks accompanying your slippers. 

You leave your bedroom and head into the living room, flicking on your assorted collection of lamps and fairy lights. You reach to close the curtains, but when you catch a glimpse out the window, you see a car parked out front. A car rather similar to your boss’. 

You stand there for a moment while you wait for the person to leave the car, mystery and intrigue growing when you see the person fiddling with a piece of paper. And then you spot him, Tangerine stepping out of the car, your metal water bottle and a post-it note in his hand as he checks it with the street's signs. Your eyes widen at the sight, following his movements and watching him get closer to the main building door.

You hear a buzz come from the wall intercom by your door and you jump, the sound acting as an alarm and bringing you back to reality. You anxiously waft your hands at your sides as your slippers scruffle across the floor — making your way to the door. With a steady inhale to calm yourself, you press the button.

He calls your name, a questioning tone to it.

“Hi, yeah, it’s me,” you respond, eyes closing as you press your forehead against the wall. 

“You forgot your bottle in my office,” he says, voice somewhat hesitant. “Wanted to bring it to you so it doesn’t go mouldy over the weekend.”

It sounded like an excuse.

You smile at the consideration, and wait a beat, seeming to battle the thoughts in your head before finally giving in. You buzz him in and shake your head, pushing away the shame for what this may mean. What it may lead to.

With your boss on his way to your apartment floor, you rush over to the kitchen counter and fill up the kettle — wanting to offer a reasoning for him to stick around. You pop it onto its place to boil, repeatedly hitting at the switch as if it were to make it quicker. 

The door knocks and you exhale, the sound wavering in pitch as you turn to face the door. You grab onto the handle and slowly pull it open, being met with your boss on the other side, his blazer folded over his arm.

“Hi, there.”

“Got it from HR,” he says simply, holding the orange paper square with your address scribbled on. He smiles for a brief moment, eyes flickering over your face until they momentarily focus on your lips — the memory of them seeming to act as a distraction. He clears his throat and extends his arm, offering your bottle — the charms jingling with the movement. “Think you forgot something.”

“Thank you,” you smile, taking it from his hold. “Can’t believe I forgot it.”

He couldn’t believe it either. You rarely let it leave your side and it made him question whether it was even an accident at all.

It wasn’t.

“It’s no problem,” he nods, hesitant footing making him linger in place.

The kettle flicks and your mouth opens, shutting abruptly like you were battling with yourself — questioning whether letting him in would be a mistake. But, you decide against the doubts.

“The kettle is hot,” you play with the chain on the door as you begin your offer. “I was about to make a drink… if you wanted one too?”

He nods, his response quick. It’s like he was eager, waiting for the invitation even. “Yeah, that’ll be nice.”

You smile and open your door wider, letting him into your space. He stills as he slips off his shoes, looking around your apartment as if he has just stepped inside your brain, your soul. Flat intricately decorated: artwork on the walls, lamps on almost every surface, looked after plants hanging from the ceiling, handmade items scattered almost everywhere. Anything he had previously pictured — far better. Your apartment an extension of your personality and desk at work.

“Nice place,” he says as he looks around, placing his blazer on the counter. Voice quiet like he’s in awe — eyes always seeming to land on something new.

You focus on the side of his face, watching the genuine appreciation in his features.

“Thank you,” you say softly, words heartfelt. 

No man has ever shown interest in your apartment quite like Tangerine. Your bed being the only thing that appeals to the men you’d occasionally bring back.

His eyes drift to you as he follows your voice, noticing something delicate, something somber in your tone. He twists inwards, standing in front of you. You reach for the end of his loosened tie and fiddle with the point of it, eyes cast down at your fidgeting. He too glances down, watching the mindless toying — focusing on the fabric weave between your fingers. 

He pulls his hands from his trouser pockets, reaching upwards to you with no such hesitation as before. He rests the inners of his hands over your ears, his hold on your face carefully firm as he tilts your head back, making you look at him. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours.

You’re quick to return the kiss, eager to pick up from where you left off this morning. And it was noticeable. Very noticeable: strained breath, wandering touches, kisses growing deeper — all if an indication for something more.

“I really want you,” you admit through kisses, your hold on his tie rising. “Do you want me?” you question, suddenly far too aware of your own thoughts.

He parts from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours, tips of noses touching. He allows a brief moment to let those words marinate in his head, questioning whether that even needed to be questioned at all.

Tangerine thumbs over your cheeks, eyes fixed on yours through the closeness. “Of course,” he whispers, voice soft and genuine. “Of course I do,” he repeats, emphasising his genuinity. 

Your grip on his tie tightens, the hold you have near the collar brings his lips closer — pulling him in to kiss you again. 

“Wait right here,” you speak against him and pull away, heading for your room.

Though he doesn’t quite listen, his brain and ears currently incapable of deciphering commands after that little act of yours. He trails after you, pausing by the sofa as he watches you search the drawers in your bedroom.

You find what you're after, holding a little square packet between index and middle finger — making your way back to him. 

“It’s ribbed,” you quip, holding it out for him to take.

“Is it now?” he chuckles, placing the condom onto the arm of the couch after giving it a quick once over.

You smile and take a step closer, hands reaching for his waist. “Yeah, and it’s my last one.”

He presses a string of soft, slow kisses to your lips, a wandering hand finding itself settling on the back of your neck. “Promise I won’t break it,” he muffles against you, grip falling down your back — trailing leisurely down the thick knit.

Stepping forwards, he follows pursuit, taking one back until he’s sitting on the sofa behind him. You stand between his parted knees and kick off your slippers, one pink sock and one purple sock covering your feet. Each of them patterned with something different. 

But your boss seems rather impatient, his perched forward seated position indicating a matter of urgency. He reaches for your waist, grip firm as he guides you closer, making you straddle one of his thighs. He slips his hands under your jumper, holding the fabric by the hem as he slowly drags it off you, pulling it off over your head. 

He places it aside, hands returning to the side of your face — pulling you back in to resume what he had started: kissing you like a man starved of touch. His palms graze to your exposed neck, travelling along your bare shoulders to slip under the straps of your dress. 

You slide a hand back into his hair, fingers toying with the curls at the back of his neck — the mindless fiddling just like your other hand situated on his lower stomach. Your touch lowers, skimming over the bulge in his trousers to casually cup his cock. 

A bubble gets caught in his throat, a faint groan being muffled between urgent moving lips. Pulling you into him, he twists, setting you lengthwise along the sofa. He moves to hover atop you, bringing one of your knees to hug at his hip, your dress rising with it. He winds himself closer between your thighs, the feel of his cock far more weighty than you had imagined it to be.

You move a hand from behind his neck and instead cup his face almost, thumb in the hollow of his cheek, index in the other — guiding his face to you like you too are starved of touch. Starved of genuine and compassionate touch. 

You kiss him with that same fervour as before. Small anticipatory, experimental rocks of your hips wind up against him, as if you're eager to alleviate the tension between your thighs.

He trails his hand down your arm and towards the hand you have on his face. Interlocking his fingers with yours, he peels it from him, simultaneously pulling from the kiss. You peer up at him precautiously, afraid of overstepping a line somehow, but those doubts are soon reassured — his lips pressing faint, light kisses into the palm of your hand. 

You watch him from your laid position, staring at the tenderness in his actions. His eyes soft and touch gentle, all the acts one would do when in love. 

“You make me feel like a real person,” he admits, voice delicate as he looks over you. Eyes flickering like they were seeking something similar in return.

“You make me feel comfortable with myself,” you too admit, participating in a moment’s honesty unaided.

With your confession, he’s placing a hand on the base of your throat, index finger slotted under your ear — holding you comfortably to press a string of kisses to your lips, each one growing sloppier and deeper. 

You wind yourself up against the chubbed up cock in his trousers, being met with a similar motion on his end. The rocking circular grind of his hips also an attempt to rid the slightest bit of tension. All of what you’re each feeling right now seeming to be overbearing. 

You snake your arms in to fit between your chests, your fingers finding themselves fiddling with the buttons of his shirt — desperately trying to get him out of it. Undoing the first few buttons and further loosening his tie, you slip them both over his head, yanking it from him needily.

He presses a final kiss to the corner of your mouth as he sits back on his heels. Perching between your spread thighs, he grabs at the hem of your dress, dragging it up the length of your body below. Mustard yellow undies and teal blue bralette being revealed for his starved eyes to see.

Leaning forward he litters a faint cluster of kisses to your middle, unable to help himself — getting distracted it appears. The pecks to your skin raise as does the fabric of your dress, kisses being planted into newly revealed patches of skin until your dress has been fully discarded.

And while he’s ridding you of your clothes, you’re trying the same with his trousers, antsy, hurried fingers finnicking with his belt.  

“Get these off,” you murmur, struggling to undress him with the obstructed view and funny angle.

He pulls from the valley of your tits where his face currently resides, head shaking faintly as he chuckles. Hand moving from your neck to his front, he unbuckles his belt with a singular hand, dropping it to the floor.

You perch yourself up slightly, resting on bent elbows behind you. Peering up at him to get a better look — you flicker over his chest, finally seeing what’s underneath those shirts. Your gaze wanders over his skin, slowly taking it all in when you notice a scar on his shoulder. A circular lightened patch of skin.

You balance on one elbow, your other arm extending towards it.

“What’s this?” you ask, voice gentle while your eyes remain firm. Your focus deep.

He looks down to his shoulder, watching your middle finger trace over the memory. The bad memory. It’s like you were somehow replacing those negative associated feelings with something positive, something loving and heartfelt.

“Did a job in Japan,” he replies, the response short, quite like he wasn’t keen to revisit old events.

You pick up on it, eyes moving to follow his when they divert. You bring your hand to your face, lips pressing a kiss to your thumb to then stamp onto his scar — sealing in a physical testament of your unexpressed love. 

His eyes soften as he watches the act play out, his heart swelling more than he thought could ever be possible. Everything you do seeming to make him swoon just that bit more.

You straighten the elbow behind you, using it to push from your laid position until you're sat upright, close to Tangerine once again. Reaching past him, you grab the condom from the arm of the sofa and tear it open. Your boss follows suit, pace hurried as he pushes down his trousers and boxers, eager to keep this moving.

His hands settle on the crook of your neck, thumbs gliding up your throat on either side, the slight force of his hold tilting your head back. As if he was far more interested in the sight of your face than what was going on between his legs. 

You reach up to kiss him as you grab a hold of his stiffened cock, giving him a few preparatory pumps. Like you’re readying him just that bit more before popping the rubber atop the head of his dick, sliding it downwards to sit snugly at the base.

You move your hands upwards, stroking along his lower stomach until your palms sit on his sides. Holding him fairly firm, you initiate the old position — keeping him close as you lean back, taking him with you. He steadies himself, an elbow bent beside your head to keep his weight off you, not so keen to crush you.

“Need to be inside you,” he murmurs into your lips, composure growing sparse. 

Letting go of your loose hold on his waist, your hands fall to your sides, just above the band of your underwear. You sneak your fingers into the elastic and tug downwards, hips lifting accordingly as you shimmy yourself out of the fabric, kicking them off your ankles. 

The hand sitting beside your throat moves to slide between you, reaching for his cock. He guides himself closer to you, neck hanging loosely as he peers down between your bodies, watching himself itch to your cunt. Once he feels his head bump against your entrance, the point of entry located — he locks eyes with you, eager to see it all in your face. See what he’s been waiting months for.

He sinks into you slowly, letting your pussy take him at its pace. Little by little until no more of him remains. The whole length of him still as his dick practically plugs you. 

“Forgive me… it’s been a while,” he mutters, forehead resting against yours. Movement halted in his hips. 

You slip your hand into his by your side. Guiding it to your face, you bring him to your lips — pressing soft, reassuring kisses into his knuckles, trying to ease him. For you it had also been a while, maybe not as long as him, but still, a substantial length of time. Especially compared to what you’re used to.

“It’s perfect, you’re perfect,” you muffle into him, kisses lowering to his fingers. Worshipping the hands that have touched pure evil, that have caused pure evil with nothing but adoration.

His gaze casts downwards as he watches you, the insurmountable pools of love he has for you visible within the softness of his eyes. All of his feelings clear. No shame or doubt behind those pretty blues. 

Tangerine rolls into you subtly, cock bumping up into you in a way that knocks the air from your lungs, in a way that momentarily makes you struggle for breath. He thumbs over your bottom and parted lip, eyes intently following the movement before he slips it into your mouth — the slight weight of it resting on your tongue. Lips wrapping around it, you hold him there.

He begins to move into you, hips winding against yours as he fills you entirely with him, slipping in and out with leisure rhythm. Each pump unsystematic and irregular, like the concept of haste was out of the question. As if the only goal was to feel you. 

He removes his thumb from between your lips, letting the tip skim across them for a short moment before pulling away, repositioning it to sit at the side of your tit. The thumb that was between your lips moves into the top of your bralette, the force of his grip tugging downwards — exposing your breast. The full weight of it sits atop the thin laced fabric. 

Your eyes follow his down to your chest, the wet pad of his thumb itches closer and closer to your nipple. He circles it languidly, the pace slow as he matches the movements to his thrusts. Pairing the motions in a way so intricate that no man with you ever has.

His head ducks as he presses a clump of kisses to the top part of your other tit, giving it similar attention.

“I—” you start, strained voice cutting short with a moan. You swallow thick like an attempt of evening your breathing, steadying yourself. “I uhm—” you try again. A surprise deep bump of his cock knocks any sense of cohesion from your brain, the air from your lungs too. The declaration you’re working up to getting scrambled.

Through your uncertain speech, he peers up at you, lips still pressed to your skin.

“I think I love you,” you whisper, admitting it aloud for the first time.

He pulls from your chest, face reaching yours as he hovers above it, nose skimming yours. “Think?” he repeats, gaze softening.

You shake your head faintly. “I love you,” you correct yourself, reaching up to kiss him.

“I love you,” he whispers to your lips, pulling away a brief second later to watch the response in your eyes.

“You do?” you sweetly question him, a smile forming as you rake through his curls — pushing strands behind his ears..

He nods. “I do.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Mindless but fully intentional ‘I love you’s being muttered from your mouths, each one following after a wind of his hips. 

And before you’re even aware of it, the pattern of his thrusts grows more and more regular, the ending getting closer for you both. The pair of you reaching that said end within several moments of each other.

Tangerine’s forehead rests against your shoulder as he gives you each a second to stabilise, cock beginning to soften inside of you. You press a kiss to his bicep beside you, littering the worn muscles with something tender — absentminded little smooches to his skin as he hovers limply atop you.

His fingers brush up and down your sides, like he was offering assurance and comfort, easing you in case you were to be feeling doubts. He inhales deeply as he peels himself from you, cock also retracting from you. Tangerine kneels between your spread thighs, fingers drawing lazy lines over your knee.

You look up at him, a somewhat coy and tentative expression on your face.

“Are you leaving?” you ask, tone comparable to hurt.

“Afraid not,” he leans over, planting a kiss to your sternum.

“No?” you smile.

He tucks your breast back into your bra, smoothing over the fabric. “No,” he firmly shakes his head. He straightens his back, resuming the prior position as he reaches for his boxers. “Got a bin?” he asks, carefully yanking the condom from himself, holding it in his hand.

You shake your head as you sit, reaching for a tissue from the coffee table. “It’s in the kitchen,” you respond, handing it to him. “Don’t throw it out, though.”

He folds the used rubber in the paper, eyes narrowing at you like he was confused.

“I want to keep it,” you turn your back to him, hiding your grin as you slip on your underwear. “It’ll make a pretty suncatcher— the sun shining through the purple and on the walls. It’ll look good, don’t you think?” you pause, and turn to look at him, purposefully stiffening your expression.

“I’m sorry,” he says jocosely, the elastic of his boxers pinging as he partially clothes himself. “You want to hang my spunk… in your window?” he chuckles, pointing to your other hanging ornaments in his view. 

“I was actually joking before but now I kinda want to,” you laugh softly, lounging back against the sofa.

He steps towards you and shakes his head humorously, leaning over to press an unrushed kiss into your hairline. “What a weird thing you are.”

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[fantastic-artemis]

AND AND AND I've had some time to process, it took me a while bc y'all know episode six was not what I saw coming. But. I understand now that Aziraphale is correct. His actions and methods and words drive me up a wall, but he's right! They can make a difference!

Aziraphale is the only one willing to fight to keep what he loves.

Crowley wanted to run away in season one and let the apocalypse play out while they were safely in Alpha Centauri. Beelzebub and Gabriel abandon their respective offices and go off together in season two without a care for the fact that the apocalypse will absolutely happen without them there to intervene. Everyone but Aziraphale seems to think that's fine and they can still be happy without humans and Earth.

But Aziraphale. Sweet, hedonistic, idealistic Aziraphale understands that they need humans and they need Earth to be happy just as much as they need one another. Not even Gabriel and Beelzebub could truly be happy off in Alpha Centauri. There's no pub, no music, no Ritz, no books, no sushi, no Queen, there's nothing!! Add to that how much Aziraphale cares about people as well as his religious trauma and flawed devotion to the idea of goodness and a redeemable Heaven and. Yeah. Of course he is doing what he's doing and he is RIGHT. They can't run off and hide because that's a guarantee they will lose everything.

Now, of course he went about it wrong. He didn't communicate about a damn thing, he said everything wrong, he broke Crowley's heart, he is being naive and is absolutely being manipulated without knowing it yet again. His current plan will likely be a catastrophic failure. But he's trying more than any of the others because he understands the stakes.

And that's why I believe that season three will result in Aziraphale, Crowley, Gabriel, and Beelzebub joining forces to either create a Heaven and Hell that work together to keep the balance and keep humanity going or they will destroy Heaven and Hell entirely, freeing the angels and demons from the great plan send post.

[buckyscombatboots]

I Wanna Be Yours❦

Part 1: Snap out of it

Part 2: Arabella - Coming soon

One stop off of heaven masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, reader is the side piece, hurt, brief mentions of childhood friend!Bucky, no happy ending (sort of), reader is used, no aftercare, all hurt no comfort, p in v, rough sex, hate sex, doggy style, hair pulling, slapping, biting, allusions to reader being infertile (can be ignored :))

Nicknames: My girl, whore, slut, Sweetheart, buttercup

WC: 4K

The Happier version: My Girl -Coming soon

A/N: This is the angstier version of the fic ‘My Girl’ and is the actually original version of the fic and more truly embodies what I was feeling when writing them both.

A/N: Ive been gone for a really long time (like almost 3 months) and I’m really sorry I’ve been extremely busy, because as a lot of you know I’m doing a PhD right now. Anyway, this is part of a series that I’ll hopefully finish when I’m not so busy. I also have a few requests to finish. Love y’all 💕

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🎀༺

You both laid in the middle of the hotel bed, your head nuzzled into Bucky’s chest as you held him tight, taking in the smell of him like it was the last time you’d ever be able to. Your mind burned as you broke down every note of his scent; Magnolia, vanilla, leather and petrichor. You chanted it like a recipe in your head, begging yourself not to forget it. Just in case you ever had to recreate it when he was gone, it was inevitable after all—It was reality, this world you had both created in this room was no longer tangible. Someone was going to find out, or they had already—and to make him keep risking it, running around with you at night. It couldn’t continue, the thought of it ending made your throat tighten and a smell similar to pva glue fill your nose. It burnt as you blinked the tears back. Even as you squeezed him tighter, closer, it felt like he drifted further and further away; you could just feel it. He was distancing himself from you mentally and now physically, to make it more bearable for you both; so that he could lessen the pain, but little did he know the more he moved away the more it hurt, the more your heart shattered into tiny, little pieces that you’d inevitably be left alone to pick up. You wondered if you’d ever be able to repair your heart, or if it had shattered so much into such minuscule pieces that trying would be futile.

You had one final night with him and here you were, spending it cuddling him trying to suppress your tears. You didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes if you shattered, if you showed how much this little love affair truly meant to you. You loved putting up the tough, emotionless bitch act but you couldn’t. Not now. Not if it meant letting him go, never feeling his rough hands trace your every curve, never having him to kiss every scar, never being able to hear his deep, silky voice. You didn’t give a shit about the sex, no matter how mind blowing it was. You just wanted him to stay, you’d become celibate if it meant he’d stay. You’d do anything. But you weren’t “his girl” no matter how many times he whispered it to you softly or made you scream it as he fucked you. You just weren’t his. Not in the eyes of the law and not in the eyes of any of your guy’s friends. She was and you hated her for it, you hated the nice girl who brought you ‘Welcome home’ cookies, who comforted you when you were crying, despite not know you were mourning your chance with her husband, the sweet, beautiful, perfect girl that would one day give Bucky the sweet, beautiful, perfect family he’d always dreamed of. You hated that you hated her, it felt immoral, this all felt immoral. But she had what you wanted; him. She had him wrapped around her tiny, wicked…pretty, well manicured finger, it was wrong of you to force him into this—Bucky had always been weak to you and you used that against him. You made him cheat, but deep down you knew a part of him liked it. He was just like you after all, he was broken and a collector—but instead of things you both collected bits and pieces of others and saved them up inside you, it’s what made you both feel whole.

His arm that had been laying flat under your head shifted, he ran his fingers through your hair, rubbing slowly circles on your scalp, caressing the base of your skull with his warm palm. His touch was too much, you didn’t deserve it. That’s what broke you. The burning in your nose got too much; tears began to stream from your eyes like water from a broken faucet and the knot straining in your throat gave way to heavy sobs as you scrunched the material of his shirt in your fingers “What’s wrong sugar?” He asked indifferently, but you couldn’t answer. The embarrassment from letting your walls finally fall in front of him and the pity you had for yourself, that you detested, jammed your throat. You tried to open you mouth to speak, to tell him it was nothing or that you’d had an awful day at work, you’d always been quite sensitive, he knew that, so the excuse of being yelled at in front of everyone at work would probably work, but no matter how much you tried to summon the words you couldn’t speak. The frustration just made it worse, the warmth from your emotional outburst and his natural heat made it hard to breathe. You pushed away from him, finally distancing yourself. But the implications of your action just intensified your blubbering, you felt like a child as you collapsed in front of him.

Bucky pulled you closer even as you tried to fight him off. You kept your face hidden behind your hair, but he started to peel it away from your damp cheeks. “There we go I can see you now.” He let out a halfhearted nervous laugh, smiling. His smile. Your chest tightened painfully, even through your drowned vision, the full intensity of his welcoming smile hit you like a pile of bricks. “What’s wrong, sugar pea? You can tell me, it’s just us.”

“I can’t- can’t tell you”

“Why not? We’ve know each other since we were kids, you can tell me anything.”

“You’re gonna- you’re gonna hate me.”

“I could never hate you. I’ve seen do a bunch of things and I’ve never once hated you.”

“I’m in love with you.” You blurted, your hands scrambled to your mouth covering it in fear of more words spilling out unchecked. The room fell silent and you heard Bucky’s breathing stop short. You’d ruined everything. Your whole chest ached as your heart beat ramped up, slamming against your rib cage, your ears ringing as the precious Eden you’d created with him began to crumble and rot. Neither of you said a word for what felt like forever, then he slowly pushed you away from him and he rose from the bed slipping on his shoes. “Wait, no don’t leave please.”

“You just had to go ruin it didn’t you? It’s like your specialty.” He turned to you sweeping his hand through the air as he spoke “ Y/N professional ruiner.” He scoffed as he returned to tying his laces “I mean God! You had one job! And it was to lay there and not talk, but you just had to open your mouth.” Every single poisonous word that fell from his tongue knived you.

You held onto his back trying to pull him back into bed “No please, please don’t leave me!” You cried, hardening your grip as he tried to stand.

“You’re so pathetically lonely, you always have been.” Bucky pushed you into the bed, holding your hands above your head as he glared down at you “You’re just like a dog you know that? A creature that can’t survive without its master. That’s what you’ve made me isn’t it? Your master. Well I can’t be anymore, the little doggy needs to realise that she can’t keep forcing people to be in her life, dragging people into her misery!” As he berated you you sobbed, trying to turn away from his scrutinising, to cover your ears. He was right, you were dragging him down into your misery. You were pathetic. You were harming him and his life by existing. “You know what? How about, as a parting gift, we do it one final time? Give the bitch what she wants? Would that make you happy? Would it finally fill that gaping hole inside of you?”

You nodded tearfully, gnawing down on your bottom lip to stop sobbing. It didn’t stop anything. In fact it just made the helpless feeling inside you fester.

He began tearing your clothes off, tugging at your shirt harshly making it catch your ear as he yanked. You resisted the urge to yelp, you didn’t want to anger him further. He tossed it carelessly and gave you a light slap on your cheek before squeezing your face in the palm of his hand. “You’re so pretty when you cry.” He let out a dark chuckle as he scrunched your face “You are pathetic aren’t you? I can’t believe it took me this long to realise just how pathetic you truly are. You can take off your skirt can’t you?” You whine out a yes and start to undo your skirt, but your eyes are drawn to Bucky undressing above you. You watch the muscle under his slightly tanned skin stretching and tensing as he removes his clothes. Once he was nude he looked down at you expectantly, catching your wander gaze with a stern scowl “Why are you still wearing clothes? I just told you to take your skirt off. Do it.” You scrambled to unzip your skirt, fiddling with the zipper. Bucky tutted, grabbing the sides of the fabric and tearing it apart “Simple.”

More tears filled your eyes as he yanked off your panties. You closed your eyes and thought back to the other times you were together in different hotels, how gentle he was as he stroked the soft flesh of your thigh and nibbled at your skin, whispering promises and praise as he approached your core. He’d stretch and tease you till you begged him for more and even then he’d be so very careful as he entered, pressing his skin against yours as much as possible just to feel even closer to you.

A searing pain shot through your scalp, making your eye shoot open, as he pulled your hair wrapped around his strong vibranium fingers “Face down, ass in the air.”

“Aren’t you going to prep me first?” You asked sheepishly, your voice not going above a whisper.

“Why the fuck- No. Just do what I told you to do. I’m hard, I want to fuck you.” He scoffed, clearly tired with your constant hesitations and questions.

Hesitantly you sat up and presented yourself to him, hoovering your face above the pillows. He pushed your head down, your heart jumped, fear blooming in your chest; for a brief moment you thought he was going to suffocate you, the reminisce of his smell on the pillows filling your lungs. He released your head, you lifted your face from the pillow slightly “Stay down.” He ordered sternly, sounding bored as his dripping tip pressed against your entrance. You did as he said, lowering your cheek back down on the cheap fabric of the pillow case; you began fiddling with the cream coloured fitted sheet, rubbing the fabric between the tips of you fingers. Waiting. Then you felt him push into you, a searing, stretching pain tingling through every fibre of your being as his thick shaft parted your walls. You weren’t as wet as usual, you weren’t as ready as usual, you were afraid of him in this moment. More afraid than you’d ever been in your life. “Fucking tight. God no wonder I keep coming back to you, it’s this pussy. It’s like silk.” He sheathed fully inside of you, ramming his weeping tip against your cervix.

“Ow! Buck, slow. P-please.” You requested timidly, stuttering out the last part fearfully, feeling a sense of uneasiness churn your insides.

He guffawed in response, leaning his head down to rest against your arched spine. Warm puffs of air made your hairs stand on end as he laughed at your request. Finally he rose back up, swiping a tear from the corner of his eye “Last time I checked whores don’t have much of a say in how their clients fuck them. Lay there and look pretty, moan for me, scream for me, but for fucksake whatever you do just don’t talk. You’re driving me crazy.” He pulled out in one Swift motion before slamming himself back inside, relishing in the cry that left your lips “I’m gonna use your little slut hole and you’re gonna thank me for it aren't you?” His voice deepened as he asked, changing his pace from long and brutal to shallow and fast. When you didn’t answer he slapped your ass harshly and clawed at your back leaving painful, searing red streaks “I said. You’re going to thank me, aren’t you.”

You choked on your tears as you answered, managing to croak out a very quiet “yes, Bucky.” Before burying your face back into the pillow in embarrassment from the sound of how ruined your own voice sounded. You took a deep breath in, taking in the lingering scent of Bucky’s cologne. Magnolia, vanilla, leather and petrichor. You chanted the list of fragrances, hoping it would carry you away to a better time. But the sound of his grunting, the sound of his skin colliding with yours and the painful, heavy sadness weighing on your head was too much for you to think back to the past. You were trapped here, under him as he ruthlessly pounded into you.

You felt his once loving cool, metal hand snake around your throat squeezing tightly, you began to choke spit flying from your mouth onto the already tear dampened white pillows “The one good thing about you is you feel so much better than her and you let me do whatever I want to you. You let me choke you.” Bucky gave your throat two strong squeezes before removing his hand to allow you to breathe “she- ah squeezing again? God I’m gonna miss this tight cunt. She’s so vanilla, only missionary, no blowjobs and I practically have to beg her to let me eat her out. But you, you’re a little whore, you'll do anything as long as I pump you full of my cock.” As he finished talking Bucky slammed his hips into your ass, watching it jiggle at the force. He craned his neck down and bit the supple flesh, grinding his teeth and licking the mark before returning to his thrusts, slapping your ass just to hear you yelp. You squeezed him even tighter every time he slapped your ass and with each moan and cry your voice sounded more and more ruined, you hated that even when he was treating you like dirt your body responded to him and he could draw this much pleasure from you.

The gradual heat that had been rising within you was becoming unbearable and the moans you have been trying to silence we’re now impossible to silence “That’s it. Scream for me.” A deep, guttural moan escaped from his open mouth, his hand on your hip growing stronger, to the point that you could feel bruises sprouting “Fuck. So close. So goddamn close, I need you to milk me with you tight hole.” Bucky’s metal hand moved away from you head and slipped underneath you, gathering your slick and fiddling with your clit with his thumb.

“Ahh! So good! So good, Buck!” His hand that was holding your hips buried itself in your hair before he yanked it at. You screamed in response to the burning in your scalp

“I said no talking you fucking whore!” You sniffled in response, feeling your release draw nearer. You pushed back against him choking out a moan as you came on his cock, your walls pulsing and squeezing around his twitching length. Bucky rammed into you a few more time with uncoordinated thrust, believing out a loud “Fuck!” As he painted your walls white. A whimper crawled from your throat as he pulled out; you could feel his seed leaking out of you. Bucky flopped down on the bed next to you pulling a few tissues from the bedside table to clean himself. An awkward silence permeated through the room. Not once after having sex with Bucky did you feel dirty, but today you did. You felt an indescribable urge to get home and scrub yourself till your skin bleed to even hope to remove the icky, gross feeling spread across your skin.

Slowly you lifted your head from the pillow and carefully laid down on your back, wincing as you reddened bottom came in contact with the quilt. You laid there staring at ceiling, tears making your vision swim. Bucky’s rough hand entwined with yours; he squeezed your hand twice and swiped the pad of his thumb across your knuckles tenderly “She’s pregnant. I thought I should tell you. She's gonna give me that family I’d always dreamed of.” The words that were crawling up your throat died, you died. Your body went rigid at the word, pregnant. Of course she was pregnant. The word made you sick, it made you jealous, it made you a crucible of contempt boiling over a bunsen flame—you were going to explode. “We'll, aren't you going to say anything? I’ve been wanting this for a long time. I thought you’d at least be happy for me.”

“Congratulations.” The voice that came out didn’t sound like you, It sounded robotic, metallic and forced. But that was all you could manage, if you said anymore you might snap and strangle him or go kill her. You hated yourself for hating her. But it didn’t make the nagging belief in the back of your mind that it should have been you. That it was destined to be you. He was yours, you were his. It was meant to be you at the altar, meant to be you telling funny stories at your wedding about how you were childhood friends that went to high school and college together, who both had brewing feelings that you both kept suppressed and when you finally both got the courage to confess you had to move for work, but destiny made it so you would both reunite and jump at the chance to confess. It was meant to be you.

“Thanks.” His tone was bitter “ I can stay a bit longer, but I’ll have to leave soon. She’s waiting for me after all.” He cuddled you close, stroking your hair, probably imagining you were her. Had he imagined you were her this whole time? Was it that painful for him to fuck you?

The amount of thoughts racing in your head made you want to step outside into the chilly night air to cool down, but now was your final chance to be with him and you weren’t going to waste it. You ran you hands across the corded muscle of his back, drawing soothing circles just like he used to do for you when you couldn’t sleep. When sleep made your eyelids heavy you barely put up a fight, you welcomed sleep with open arms, you wanted to be freed from the bleak, harsh reality and enter into a dream world where she was you. Yeah that sounded good.

“Bucky?” You called groggily. There was no reply. You crawled over to his side of the bed, it was still warm, and peered over the edge. His shoes were gone and so were his clothes. You laid back on the bed, your eyes catching sight of a torn bit of paper. You grabbed the paper and unfolded it, your hands trembling as you read it ‘I don’t want to see you anymore, please don’t bother my family. - James’ You read the words over and over praying they would change into another message, but it didn’t work. It only made the pang in your chest throb. You scrunched it in your hand as you curled up into a ball trying to disappear as you soaked up the shadow of his body heat, the memories of him that were lingering in that shadow—high school when he sat with you behind the bleachers in the rain and gave you his varsity jacket to warm you up “I’m your portable heater at this point.” He jested, letting out his signature low husky laugh that made you melt, college when he held you from behind as you cried into your pillow about your college senior boyfriend who dumped you, because he was graduating; you could still feel the phantom of Bucky’s warmth whenever you were sad thanks to that day. The day he stroked your hair and whispered into your ear that “He didn’t deserve you.” And that he’d “never make you feel like this.” Well he had so many times, he was right now. But it hurt even more now, it was over for good. You’d lost him, you were too many years too late and now you were just clutching to fleeting memories, but God if the feelings didn’t sting every time you thought about him. It was hard not to, he’d dominated every significant moment of your life. But now you were barred from his perfect little family.

Slowly you unscrunched yourself from the ball you’d folded yourself into, spreading your body out like a starfish drying out on the beach. Your throat was scratchy from crying and your eyes were heavy and swollen. Everything hurt, but simultaneously you were so numb.

You thought of showering, you thought of searching through your bag for some pain meds, you thought of driving your car off the bridge back to the city. You thought a lot, as you laid there staring at the yellowed patches on the popcorn ceiling from water damage.

You thought so much and so hard that you didn’t even notice you’d started crying, again, you were drowning in your emotions. You were huddled in a lifeboat slowly filling with water, with no sight of land. You were waiting for him to save you, but he wasn’t coming back “I wanna be yours. Just wanna be…”

A disembodied voice continued “Yours. Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought.” The sweet sound of the man’s singing stops “I thought we were gonna sing together, sweetheart.” There was a soft knocking on the wall next to your head “No more crying okay? Guy was a dick anyway.”

“Who are you?” You questioned, sitting up and pressing your ear against the paper thin wall

“A person who’s also been left out to dry, a person who also needs someone to stop me from drowning. If you want some comfort I can come over; we can just lay here, Y/N.” The way he said your name brought back so many memories, you knew who he was

“Ari?” You asked hesitantly, the man who Bucky said didn’t deserve you all the way back in college was on the other side of the wall. He’d listened to everything. You wanted to evaporate.

The door knob of your room jiggled and then the door creaked open. In the doorway was Ari, droplets of rain trickling down his skin. He dipped his head down so he didn’t hit it as he entered your room, his brown hair was a bit longer than it was in college, his beard a bit fuller, he was much more muscular and his chest was more hairy; but for the most part he was the same, he even still had the same crotchety, yet solemn look on his face “Hiya, Sunshine.” His voice was low and soothing, as if you were the finest China that he was worried about shattering. He closed the door gently and walked over to the side of the bed, crouching down to try to make his bearish figure smaller and less daunting “Long time no see. didn’t think the next time I’d see you would be in a shoddy motel, but life is nothing if not unpredictable, right?”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @addie5587483 @flamefoxxrecs @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @taramaria @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @teddybearsgrr @raajali3 @godesslaura @alma13-blog @cevansgurl @sojuxxi @aerangi @itwillgetbetter @bean-is-reading @emi11ie @cjand10 @sweetwrathoflilith @royalwriteroftheuniverse

[arthur-lesters-balls]

geto suguru, gojo satoru, and fatalism

im here once again with a long rant that i didnt really bother to reread. if you squint you can see it as a jujutsu kaisen 0 analysis. theres a part where i talk about geto in what can be seen as someone presenting passive suicidal thoughts, but its neither heavy nor explicitly about that so. just warning.

lately ive been thinking a lot about geto being left alone to do whatever he wanted for 10 years because gojo, the only person strong enough to defeat him, simply never tracked him down. almost as a consequence, i eventually put this together with the fact that, even though yuta was the one who did the "difficult" part of defeating geto, gojo was the one to deliver the final blow

one of the first things geto said after seeing gojo in that alley was "to think you'd be the one here at my end", but lately, i cant help but think: wasnt that actually the most obvious end? was there ever any other option of closure for them? and ive been into the idea of stsg + tragedy (as a genre) since i wrote this post, so this somehow resulted in me looking at them with some kind of lazy fatalistic lens

i really like stories where the character tries to flee from an imminent tragedy, but always goes back to the same place, because that is his fate. and, to me, this is exactly what happened with gojo when he tried to avoid killing geto. he didnt go after him, he spent 10 years standing still, believing the distance would be enough to run away from that moral duty

and then geto came back

and then geto went after gojo students. and then geto was the one who made their meeting happen. and then geto was the one who broke that barrier gojo had put up to avoid thinking about that unhealed wound. suddenly gojo was back to shinjuku, ten years ago, with geto saying that killing him or letting him go was his choice and that there would be a meaning to it

and i keep asking myself what was going on in his mind at that moment when geto appeared at jujutsu high? did he acknowledge that irony? did he acknowledge how that seemed like a bad joke being played on him? how long did it take for him to accept what that meant? was it in the classroom, after their talk, looking at the sunset and thinking about how they were actually quite similar to yuta and rika? changing the place of their conversation to the middle of the street, the same place where rika died her premature death? did he think about how they were also stuck at each other, cursed by love, and how the one who placed the curse must be the one to remove it? how, as said by the novel, the curse of geto suguru was a burden only he would be able to carry?

and this whole thing also made me think about geto. we know for a fact he thought that their friendship was over, that he wasnt someone gojo held dear anymore. we also know he thought gojo deserved to hate him, to curse him, to not take that last meeting of theirs and waste it treating him kindly so, to geto, what justified the fact that gojo never found him? i genuinely dont have a theory. im not even sure if i have a hypothesis that is in any way backed up by canon. but, what i can say almost for sure is that he never got it right. and him thinking gojo and him were best friends is proof of that

then the question thats left is: was geto ever aware of the tragic irony of his death by gojos hands? was dying by gojos hands ever a tragedy from his perspective? the way he never put up a fight against that possibility says otherwise. looking at his ideals, living a meaningless life seems a far more tragic thing for him. but wasnt that what he was doing already? doing his best for a goal he knew made no sense? whenever i think about geto saying he didnt expect gojo to be the one there at his end, i cant help but wonder: was that said in a positive way? was that a surprisingly satisfactory means to go? being killed by the person who cursed him and also the person he loved the most; to geto, was there a more meaningful death than that?

[chairteeth]

Taking a closer look at memoriae

As per blog brand, this is about TouNemu again. I'm gonna be analyzing and pointing out a handful of things about Touka and Nemu's personal memoriae as well as their flower field memoriae. I ended up going on a biiiit of a ramble about the hospital trauma again which makes the Touka section look longer than it is, since the hospital trauma applies to both. Welp, enjoy!

The only memoriae of theirs where they aren't together are their personals, the obligatory flower fields, and one on each side which had reasons outside of their control that kept them apart, btw. Which is just. Yeah, talk about being joined at the hip. I won't be doing the dual unit's personal because it's kinda bland honestly? As in the text doesn't really give us much to talk about or even gush about, it's just a literal description of what happens in Christmas String. I will however note that it features a book (diary) like Nemu's personal, but has the exact effect of Touka's personal. We will also be looking at both NA translations and fan translations of memo descriptions for picking apart purposes (and because I do not trust NA whatsoever).

SO! A Freedom for Just Me (NA: My Own Freedom) is Touka's personal memoria and the description reads as follows

The earth orbits the sun? That's a lie. The world is a big place? That's a lie. Seeing it on TV, on the internet, how can you be so sure? The only things I know are true? That the starry sky, and the things around me keep spinning. (NA)

It's a lie that the earth orbits the sun. It's a lie that the world is this big. I don't know if what I see on TV or the internet is true, but the starry sky is spinning. It revolves around me. This is the only thing that's true.

NA chose a very funny way of translating that last thing and I think it makes more sense if you take the JP version, because well the sky and things in it do "move" from our perspective (we are the ones moving mostly but shh). Nitpicking aside, let me dig into This Thing.

Firstly the image itself is VERY indicative of how Touka feels. Hospital bed, with an IV included, the night sky, and that dome thing that looks an awful lot like a cage. Yk like the ones she also has everywhere in her room! The title of the memoria is also very telling, and I think people often forget just how tightly tied Touka is to the idea of freedom and the feeling of being trapped (in a gilded cage but a cage nonetheless). This is part of why she doesn't usually listen to others, too. Let me take a look at the visual elements before the text, it'll tie together nicely.

Going element by element... There's the hospital bed and IV. That's a very specific combination, and part of the "cage" Touka feels trapped in, the IVs like chains on her body. Her illness has probably had her bedridden and hooked up to a bunch of machinery before, we saw a glimpse of that sort of thing from Ui in the anime. And really what else to do but to look up to the sky and envy the stars, who are free and bright and real? Something you can see.

There's this whole thing about being an inpatient at a hospital, especially a child, that I've mentioned but have never really elaborated on I think, which is the part where things stop feeling real and you yourself stop feeling real, stop feeling like a person. I've heard about it from child inpatients when volunteering at hospitals and it can be a little complicated to understand for people who've never been in a similar situation. I'm not sure how familiar other folks are with the routine of a child inpatient, because that's a big part of what causes this. The hospital trio have mentioned it offhandedly before (I believe it was Ui who may have mentioned it while they were making Sakurako?) but:

It's grueling for the mind of a child to live in a place that is so... white, largely impersonal, you're never really always tended to as children need to be (the nurses will do their best but there is only so much you can do), you often aren't allowed to go outside or do a lot of the things you want to do, even inside, plus dietary restrictions can lead to Not Great relationships with food (or apathy towards it) whether during the extended hospital stay or after. The routine is also No Good Very Bad for them because while routine is helpful for mental development in a way, the "rules" and routines established at home still leave room for variety in a child's day, and normally they're always learning new things and gathering new experiences. The learning new things does apply to Ui, however not so much to Touka and Nemu, and the new experiences gathered are. Um. Well. None, for the most part, because that's kinda the point of a hospital—to be a controlled environment, for the safety of the patients. But really, when they say their routine is something along the lines of "wake up, maybe go to school (the hospital class) if you feel well enough, go to bed"... they mean it. They do nothing else. And not all kids are lucky enough to be in a hospital that prepares special events or activities for them, and even then sometimes those are not enough. They can't replace freedom.

There's a special kind of boredom and seclusion that sets in after a while. You need to understand, these are children. Not even teenager-children, children (for however long they were hospitalized, which is implied to have been a long time, at minimum three years if the anime is accurate to that, but I believe they were there even longer than that solely based on context clues). Kids are not adults. Kids do not have the experience that adults or even teens do. Kids don't know the world around them yet. It can get to a point where they don't even remember anything before the hospital, and see, that becomes really surreal really fast. I'm not sure how to explain this part but the child very easily can start to feel completely disconnected from "the outside" and their world becomes very very tiny. This is also done in part to protect themselves, because it hurts. It hurts a lot to know you're not allowed to do and experience so many things, while every other kid is, especially if you're terminal and are convinced you won't get better. It is implied that at least Touka and Nemu were of that school of thought, which is not great. So it's common, especially for neurodivergent kids (like TouNemu), to dissociate HEAVILY. The amount of sensory deprivation and understimulation in hospitals is insane. You see how Nemu in her quotes is constantly talking about taking in the sounds and colors? Yeah, this is why. Touka does much of the same, but doesn't directly talk about it. Now add onto the mental and sensory stimulation issues the fact that these two are child prodigies and you have yourself a recipe for Way Way Worse Than Usual! That's why the internet isn't quite enough. Because while adults and non-inpatients have the experience and firsthand knowledge of the world around them, these kids don't. So even if you read article after article and watch video after video, all they are to you is 1s and 0s. Text/images on a screen. Not real. Touka states it almost explicitly, and Nemu… well I could go on about the usage of literature to cope. It's not your world, you don't recognize it as yours (resentment goes brrr).

ANYWAY back to the Touka personal! So, Touka feels chained to that bed. Next up is a related element! That dome thingy above the bed. A lot like a cage, I'd say it looks a lot like the upper half of a hanging birdcage with the... thing you hang it from removed.

With the perch being the bed. This really is the exact same type of cage she has in her room... and we're talking about a character with a bird doppel... SPEAKING of birds, these kinds of cages are proven to be absolutely terrible for them (any cage that is too small for an animal is absolutely terrible for them), due to how cramped they are (notice Touka also calls her world narrow and cramped). If a bird was never let out of its cage and grew up for years inside that cage... well assuming the hypothetical bird has the mental capacity of the child we're talking about, its outlook would not be much different from Touka's. It may also represent the hospital as a controlled environment. Those who are "bigger" and "know better" control what's inside the cage, what happens to the being held inside, and care for the being's basic needs (this can also relate to diet things). Much like child inpatients, the mental stimulation of pet birds is often ignored, whether because the owner doesn't care or because they're ignorant.

Then, lastly, the night sky and a shooting star/comet (I'm gonna assume it's a comet?). The sky is universal, everywhere in the world anyone can look up and we all see the same sky. For a kid in Touka's position, the night sky can feel much closer and more real than any other thing beyond the white walls. Filled with glittering jewels that turn out to be not only pretty but fascinating, with incredibly variety and mounting complexity the more you look into the field, and constellations, asterisms, comets, odd stars and planets, long etcetera. The cosmos is an infinite expanse, the gift that keeps on giving, it gives and it gives without end, and it never takes, never asks for anything, never states a price beyond Touka's time (which, arguably, is one's most precious gift to give, yes something something the amount of time TouNemu spend together). In this way, outer space is similar to Nemu in Touka's eyes (she connects these dots way later down the line, even later than she connects the "oh, space to me is what literature/writing is to Nemu" dots). You can see why Touka may become hyperattached to the whole outer space thing and why it may mean so much to her (possible autistic special interests aside).

The girl was withering away, feeling like life was not worth the pain and suffering she had to endure from her illness and the consequences of it (such as the inpatient status), and the stars gave her something to reach for, something tangible, something she could know and know for good. It doesn't change too fast to keep up with, it doesn't feel like it will ever leave her behind, it doesn't take anything from her, and it's ever-present. The text corroborates my words, essentially, so I don't think I have to go into how the text applies to Touka. The starry sky is all around her, and she knows it well. Like a mantle of comfort and reassurance. I don't think I have to spell out why Touka is so linked to freedom and why she values it so much, do I? Also the part about defying authority and being all, unyieldy about things.

Anyway we are going to do Touka's flower field memoria next, then we'll go for Nemu's personal and flower field. I'm not even gonna use the NA title for this one, because the JP one is better: A Longing for the Beyond.

The end of the universe brings the dark and vast eternal world of time to my tiny little cramped world. The end of the universe also creates the flow of time. I don't care if my brain cells overheat, I want to know everything. I will cherish what I learn, and it will make me a kinder person. (NA)

“My small and narrow world and the dark and long eternity of time. It is the end of space that has expanded the world. It's the end of the sky who made time flow by. I don't care if my brain cells overheat, I want to know everything. It will become a nice possession for me. That’s how I can become kind.”

So okay this one, being a flower field memoria, does not have much to it visually, however the title and text are interesting. The part about longing, I think I've covered somewhat in the previous memoria's analysis. Plus Touka and Nemu are both INCREDIBLY yearny. They pine and long and yearn so much, largely because they have so much love to give, they love so intensely and that is often a feature of those who have been deprived of something they desperately needed/craved for a good chunk of their childhoods. But we will discuss that AT LENGTH with Nemu's personal don't you worry. I have covered a good amount of the text for this one honestly (I am pointing at Touka calling her world tiny and cramped and referring to the cosmos as the thing that widened her horizons and expanded her perception of reality, it's vital to have anchors to prevent severe episodes of dissociation), so let me hone in on two-three things.

"I don't care if my brain cells overheat, I want to know everything."

This line can be easily glossed over as oh Touka's doing the sciency word thing again, but Hey, Let The Child Express Herself And Listen. This is part of the very foundation of what I refer to as her gladiator behavior. Yk every time she and Nemu show dangerous levels of curiosity and fascination with things, and that curiosity alone is enough for them to take on impossible challenges regardless of risk, for no real reward (or no guaranteed one) besides victory? Yep, that goes all the way back to this, and there is a root to that behavior, that attitude. It's a little like living your entire life with clipped wings, and then one day, something (the stars in this case) changes your life completely. You're able to glide and fly for the first time since you can remember. It's only natural that you'd want to fly higher and higher, experience more of that no matter how many times you fall or how bad the bruise is. If you frame it a certain way, it's the tale of Icarus all over again. Wiiiiith the difference being that Touka was better at wing construction and she blew up her wings on purpose to successfully propel herself to the stars (Chapter 8 my fucking beloved). Her ego kind of connects to this in a certain way too. Since, well, she connects more to the night sky, above everything on the ground. She stands closest to the stars, therefore on a pillar raised above the rest. This is only a very small part of the ego topic though, it has many contributing factors. Also have you ever noticed that Nemu is just like the night, just like the stars. Quiet, subtle, with its complexity glossed over by the average person until you take the time and care to look closer- cough.

The part about cherishing what she learns is also very true for Touka, you'll notice she greatly values knowledge as well as learning, but see how the JP refers to it as a possession. I feel like that applies to space specifically and how deeply important and personal her bond with it was back when she was younger. As we saw in her quotes, she's much more willing to share now than she used to be, which is a sign of growth (also the fact that Nemu of all people, who hates and feels guilty for asking basically anything, feels confident and sure enough to casually ask Touka about something like space that used to be a landmine back in the hospital… Also Has Meaning, but I am trying not to gush too much here). And now I'm trying to figure out how to tackle the last line about becoming kind. I think I should fetch something I said on Discord while going through TouNemu content in my brainrot containment zone:

And then I said:

she's trying, she wants to help, she wants to be good. There are multiple reasons she thinks she can't though

really Touka's thing with kindness reminds me of this one episode of Supernanny where one of the little boys in the household was super troublesome and had ADHD, and after a tantrum he ran off to his bedroom and curled up on his bed. Supernanny Jo Frost very softly asked him if she could come in, and if she could come closer/sit on his bed, comforted him a little, and asked him about if he wanted to be good. The poor little boy nodded and kept saying he wants to be good with a shaky voice while sobbing, and you could just tell that he was trying his best but didn't feel he could be good

Touka wants to be kind. She wants to be nice. She just doesn't know how and believes that because it doesn't come in her "how to human" manual, she can't. She thinks if she keeps learning, if she keeps hoarding more and more knowledge, then eventually, surely, she'll figure out how to be kind.

... I talked so much about the personal memo that I don't have as much to say for this one- unless I talk about TouNemu and possessiveness that is. Because they do have a fun possessive streak! Over both things and people! But I will do that another day. For now, onto Nemu's personal memoria and flower field memoria!

An Unobtainable Thing (NA: Beyond My Reach) is hella depressing to talk about so buckle up! I spent a while picking at the JP translation. Description reads as follows:

What was I hoping for? What did I want? A newly released novel? An out-of-print book that sounded interesting? New clothes for a change of image? No, no, no. Those are all wrong. I just want to be told I'm loved. It's so close and yet so far. That is all I want. (NA)

What was it that I was looking for? What did I want? A novel that had just been released? An out-of-print book I was really interested in? New clothes to change my image? No, no, no, none of the above. I just want to hear the words that love me, the closest and farthest. That's all I want.

Nemu is more self aware than Touka is. Despite the fact that she suppresses that and her own feelings as hard as humanly possible which leads to… all of her no good very bad thought patterns basically. The visual elements of this memoria are a bit harder to pin down than Touka's because there's just, More Stuff In It™️ in terms of objects. I feel like the text here is much easier to go through than the visuals? But the visuals do a good job supporting the text anyway. Surrounded by piles upon piles of books, there's a notebook I assume for writing or notes, and the ground below is also written on. I'm not sure what the closed and piled vs open and laid out books could mean. Then there's the folded pajamas (basically hospital clothes) and the two figures in the distance, one taller one shorter, which you can assume are meant to be Nemu and her mom, or worse, Nemu's mom and brother. Which is depressing! You can interpret this as Nemu really really hoping her mom would take her back home, or you can interpret the clothes as the thing that represents herself and the piled books as a sort of fortress or shelter, while the two figures inevitably walk away and she is unable to reach them (seriously those piled books look an AWFUL LOT like a fortress, something something defense mechanism). As somebody else in my Discord containment zone said, the clothes, the books, etc are the things that Nemu does have, things she can acquire, while the thing she really wants, that being her family, are so far away as to be unreachable. The writing on the ground leads into the distance toward them, perhaps symbolizing her writing as her reaching out to what she really wants in the only way she knows how. Not to mention that the light shining through the clouds illuminating them from the background gives it a heavenly quality, pointing to her awareness that she will not live much longer and that the love she craves is what she believes is heaven.

As for the text though, I've gone on and on endlessly about Nemu's severe issues but honestly her personal memo is very blatant about the core of the problem, that being… that she just wants to be loved. It's that simple. Which I think really is the reason she agrees to go kaboom with Touka despite all of her talk of leaving a legacy and explicitly saying she doesn't want people to forget her. Since love is deep down all she's ever truly wanted (not wanting people to forget her, wanting to leave a mark, etc, are all things that in her case stem from not feeling loved)… well, once she sees that she finally has that, she doesn't really care about everything else that much.

The more enigmatic one might be the flower field memoria ngl because that one is weird for multiple reasons. Nemu, oddly enough, talks about her heart like three times or more throughout all of the content she appears in, which isn't much but it's odd that she's done it that many times. Like the religious undertones, I'd like to figure out what exactly she means by "my heart" but I think she just means her mind.

See Nemu's flower field memoria is Peace to this Battered, Dead Land (NA: Tranquility in a Wasteland), and it's already odd because it's the only flower field where it's nighttime and also the only one where we see "direct magic" being used? Iirc at least. The second thing isn't that weird but the first feels weirdly deliberate to me and I've been wondering about it for a long time.

Dramatically, it reads like this:

"Through written sentences, an interwoven world, or filled-in spaces, heartfelt stories flow quietly, gently, peacefully, and sometimes wild and frenetic, into the cracked earth of the wasteland, gradually filling up in a transient pool, to then become unique. If even one thread has a color, my heart will be at peace." (NA)

Let's write sentences, let's weave a world, and if the gaps are filled, the story will flow. Quietly, slowly, calmly, sometimes violently and madly, the story filled with emotions flows through the cracks in the dry land, gradually filling them and providing a tentative moisture. After that, all you have to do is get your personality. If you could give me even just one thread of color, my heart would be calm.

This one is very very fucked up if you consider one of the ways to interpret it. It's a metaphor for herself. She's the dry land. The cracks are the areas of herself that are "broken" or "damaged" (haha trauma), the hurt. She refers to her own life as a story in Arc 1 too, so this isn't a stretch. You can interpret this optimistically or pessimistically. The optimistic approach says that she's healing, the pessimistic approach says that she's essentially forcing things in there to appear put together and not be seen as problematic, bothersome, damaged goods, etc. It could even be both! It's interesting that it mentions quiet/slow/calm/gentle/peaceful and then also wild/frenetic/violent/mad, which I feel may be showing two sides of her (the calm Nemu we normally see and The Part Deep Down That Is Really Angry And Would Like To Go Apeshit). I mean there are many reasons that the way I portray Nemu in AUs can sometimes (often) be violent. I have the sadism from canon and more than enough evidence to argue repressed feelings, which, even if the feeling she's repressing isn't anger (which by all means it would be, other than sorrow and pain ofc), repressing it would lead to frustration which easily leads into anger. I think she has these issues in canon too, she just managed to not explode. Well, metaphorically.

Anyway so, where do I begin with Nemu's boatload of issues that these two memoriae just kinda graze lightly... I've talked a lot about it but usually if you look it is very possible that you will find More, which I'm sure is great for Nemu's self aware introspective philosophical author brain /s. However, a LOT of what I've said about Touka regarding a hospital stay applies to Nemu as well, and in some senses even more so, since Nemu is the type to overthink things when she's by herself (Touka also overthinks but in a different way, and she normally doesn't think about People™. Normally) but it might be interesting to dig into the early Ui era for this. By early Ui I mean after TouNemu met Ui but before they came to share a room and usually before the Christmas party (yk the one). The room sharing may have simply been a princess whim for Touka, but for Nemu, it may just have been life-saving. Or to be less dramatic, sanity-saving. Sort of. Because she's even said it before that she felt lonely. Imagine how much worse the isolation had been for her in a solo room. Heck one of my headcanons (based on her comments about and appreciation of "lively" people and places) is that she Does Not Like complete silence, or at least not when she's not very close to someone, which by definition can never be complete silence because you Will hear their breathing, them being alive and doing things usually, all that.

I said nurses try their best to take care of child inpatients. But nurses, even those who specialize in kids, have a lot on their plate. And the kids that take priority are the smallest ones. And also well usually they cannot really account for everything. Plus, in Japan I get the feeling things may not be as… warm if that makes sense. That is to say I would like to know when was the last time early Ui era Nemu got a hug. It may sound silly, but physical affection is actually really really important to children's development and can be particularly good at soothing them emotionally, similarly to adults but magnified.

However Nemu has this very funny habit (/s) of suppressing her emotions and not ever telling anyone when she feels hurt or lonely or anything of the sort unless she is confronted on it or absolutely has to. So there would have been no comforting chats with nurses nor any sort of tactile comfort (yes tactile comfort is a thing). Great going Nemu. If Nemu fell into a well she would wait there and not call for help so as to not inconvenience anyone else, it's That Bad. Will to live? What's that? (She even mentions the lack of a will to live when they're making Sakurako in the hospital and you can just see Iroha going D: about it). This is a common problem in hospital inpatients, particularly children, and it is rather disturbing/sad actually to hear a child placing so little value in their own life and even less worth in themselves as a person. I just have to point at Nemu's quotes and how often she's like "are you Sure you want to talk to me…?" "I'm boring, don't waste your precious time on me" etc. G i r l... So really I imagine the only highlight in early Ui era Nemu's day was literally Ui and Touka, and with her being a night owl and chronic overthinker, I cannot imagine the excruciating agony of everything after lights out. Yk. After lights out. When everything is dark and you are Completely Alone in your room.

Anyway Nemu is severely touch starved and affection starved please give her a hug. Touka that is your job. Oh though I guess they do hold hands quite a lot? But. Hug. Big close long hug. Nemu may or may not bawl if hugged that way and spoken to softly with loving words of affirmation. Gay babies.

[thephoenixandthecrocodile]

My thoughts on Rings of Power Episodes 4 and 5 before I watch Episode 6

Episode 4

Overall episode 4 is definitely a filler episode or b storyline episode and I’m fine with that. Sometimes, as a writer, you accept that that one chapter isn’t as strong as the rest. That being said I wonder if the scenes that make up this episode might have felt better pacing wise if worked into other episodes instead of cramming the filler all in one episode?

That being said, I love the developing relationship between Isildur and Arondir. I know Arondir has to die sometime between now and the end of the series because otherwise Isildur would have destroyed the one ring.

I also love Isildur’s developing arc where he seems to become a spokesperson for the southlanders to Numenor whenever he returns. I imagine both Elendil and Miriel and the rest of Numenor want nothing more to do with the southlands and I can see Isildur campaigning their cause, similar to how Boromir campaigns Gondor’s cause to Aragorn: “yes there is frailty in men but there is also strength and courage.”

Estrid as a character herself is meh, but what she represents is really interesting in context of the bigger story. You can’t expect everyone to be suicidally brave all the time. People want to survive. To paraphrase another franchise, “Just because someone stumbles and loses their path, doesn't mean they're lost forever.”

Oooh Isildur you’re such a disaster. Only you would stumble upon the bog of eternal stench

“We shall call this lunch.” XD

Rory Kinnear! As someone who is not a huge Tom Bombadil fan (don’t kick me out of the fandom), I was more excited that Rory Kinnear was in this show than the character he was playing. That being said, I liked his portrayal of Tom especially the mind games “Is anyone else with here with you?” “You’re here, right? At least I think you are.”

Also, I didn’t mention this last time, but the whole “no one can give you a name, it finds you” bit is so trans coded.

Also, Gandalf you have like ten million names, so don’t start XD

And I would die for that lamb, Iawain I think their name is.

Stoors! Future Hobbiton!

HOLY SHIT ENTWIVES!!!! The Ents have always been my favorite part of the Lord of the Rings universe and to see an Entwife! I want to cry!

I would die for Winterbloom. She can do and has done no wrong. I support her murderous rampage against all tree enemies

That scene with Arondir and Winterbloom: forgiveness takes an age. It had me near tears. And “do you think they know peace?” It was so beautiful and gentle and so Tolkienesque. It was absolutely perfect.

I’m really curious how Theo’s storyline is going to develop. I can see him becoming one of Isildur’s trusted knights. Season 1 I was convinced he’d end up as a nazgul, but this season I’m not so sure.

The bickering between Galadriel and Elrond was fun, but also put aside your pride and be friends again! You need each other!

Poor Elrond feeling responsible for Brimby’ fate ☹

 The barrow wrights were fun. It was cute that this was basically everything Peter Jackson cut out of the first half of Fellowship minus Glorfindel.

I swear Elrond’s hair grows poofier the more stressed he is

“According to lore…” Elrond, you big nerd

Not enough Adar this episode.

Episode 5:

Dwarves!

Argh, Durin III you drive me crazy. I want to like you but also you are a stubborn ass

Love the whispers that occur when Durin III takes one of the rings.

Also love that the dwarven ring is like crack for Durin III. Let me make a huge hole in the foundational way, let me introduce a new tax system, alienate all my allies by demanding half of their wealth in exchange for these awesome rings, and forgive my son while discounting his wife’s opinions all in one day

Also love the sheer terror in Durin IV and Narvi’s faces as Durin III almost brings down a foundational wall XD

And those dwarf miners are so me. Get to go home early? Don’t have to tell me twice

And that’s going to come back and bit them in the ass right? You can’t just weaken a foundational wall and expect nothing bad to happen, right? (I know nothing of construction, but I feel like that’s a bad idea)

That Khazad……DUM was pretty awesome

I love this idea of the resonating being a gift from Aule, a skill that has been passed down generations and is this time honored traditional that belongs to the dwarves and then these rings come in and try to replicate that power but whereas resonating is having a conversation with the mountain, the ring just pierces through the mountain and sees what the wear wants to see. It’s an interesting commentary on how outsider will try to appropriate indigenous skills without truly understanding its purpose or how it works or how it helps maintain balance within the ecosystem

Also can I say one more time for those who missed it DISA IS MY QUEEN AND GODDESS. I WILL DIE FOR HER

Sauron is soooooo done with this gathering it’s hilarious. He is me during any and every work meeting

Ah Brimby and Narvi having a moment together. So sweet

DOORS OF DURIN BABY!!!!

Guarded by a password known only to “friends”. Eh, eh, get it? Haha

So I know Sauron really left because he doesn’t care about the doors, but I also choose to believe he left because he was jealous of the banter between Celebrimbor and Narvi XD

Oooh this balcony scene is painful because of the levels of gaslighting.

“You don’t always listen. Once you have an idea set in your head” – god I’ve heard things similar to that so many times from my own abusers.

“It is a game you play, is it not? Sowing seeds in others’ minds and then convincing them that the fruit is of their own thought.” - Brimby is starting to get it, but too late. :(

Also I love that Celebrimbor is so fond and protective of his dwarf friends. “this is a night for dwarves” and then later when Sauron tries to cast doubt on Durin III’s character, Brimby says such a strong NO! So different from the relationship between dwarves and Elves in the third age, when an Elf would probably be more likely ot distrust Durin III instead of the rings themselves.

Celebrimbor may be a dwarf man but he does NOT like men (the race, not the gender haha)

Also love how queer the relationship between Celebrimbor and Annatar is. As much as I’d love to see an official queer couple in LOTR world, I also love how often Patrick and Payne queer-code things. They seem really open to the idea of queerness in Tolkien, so maybe we’ll see a queer couple some day?

Nine rings?! Yeah, it does seem like a lot, right? I thought so when I first read the poem XD

“Fine, I’ll do it myself” poutness activated!

Also, Brimby, dear, when did you lose control over your own forge? Do you even know how that happened?

Fucking Pharazon and Kemen. Hope a sea monster eats the both of you

Also Pharazon makes the most demented grandpa/santa claus face right before ruining his son’s life

Seriously who tells their son, “hey, did you know your mother said you were going to die horribly” while breast feeding you that one time? Like WTF? Would have felt bad for Kemen IF THE REST OF THIS EPISODE DIDN’T HAPPEN

Elendil, darling, what are you doing in the queen’s bedchamber in the middle of the night?

Also, I’m not usually a shipper, but every time Elendil and Miriel are in a scene together I’m like:

Also poor Miriel trying so hard to do what is right. Terrified to do anything that could jeopardize her people’s future

The chest touching, the arm grabbing, the hand touching. You two are soooo in love, you dorks

Fucking Kemen and Earien

I LOVE that Elendil spends this entire scene thinking, “can punch the kid. Think of what Miriel said. Really want to punch this kid. No, no. Keep calm, keep calm.” XD

Ok Earien and Elendil need some family counseling. They’re both grieving and so they’re lashing out but also “and yet overthrowing a queen earned you a promotion” and “you’re path is made of seawater” is soooooo cold, Elendil

I’m annoyed with Earien but I understand her and I feel bad for her. She’s truly alone because her Dad and oldest friend don’t do feelings and her brother is dead and the other one is Eru Iluvatar knows where. (also is anyone going to tell Anarion that Isildur is “dead”?)

But seriously, Earien, you can do better than Kemen

Gil-Galad’s vision!!!

Run, Elrond, run!

Edna Mode: No capes!

Disa! Disa! Disa, just let the rock go! It’s not worth it! You’re going to give me a heart attack!

Nothing bad can happen to Disa, you hear me Patrick and JD?

The Watcher? It has to be the Watcher right? I can’t see the Balrog hanging around a pool of water

Just thinking about Arondir’s relationship with the tree he had to cut down in season 1 and his conversation with Winterbloom and Disa’s personal relationship with the mountain and the importance of respecting your own environment and ecosystem

Also, it’s tragic how these rings bring so much hope to those who receive them/make them and we all know what they will truly wrought. The downfall of so many people/kingdoms

“Who set these restricts?!” Haven’t we all been there? We made rules ages ago and then we’re like wait who’s the mook who made these rules up? XD

Love the small panic about misplacing the ring and its heaviness

Durin IV will put up with a lot old man, but don’t you dare disagree with Disa! She is ALWAYS right

When will people LISTEN to Durin IV!!! FFS

Celebrimbor’s little anvil paperweight is so cute :3

Do you think Sauron was insulted when Mirdania called him stinky? XD

Also, I like the hint that even though Celebrimbor is “old” looking, he’s still got quick reflexes and prowess as he dodges and counters Mirdania’s attacks.

Also, that look on Celebrimbor’s face when Mirdania explains what they were doing. I think he is taken aback not just because of what they did but also because, potentially, that is something Annatar should have known was dangerous and how to counter the negative effects. They’ve made ten rings together already. Surely Annatar of all people should know how volatile and fussy mithril can be.

Also fucking Annatar being all, “we could really use your help” *puppy dog eyes*

Seriously WHEN WILL PEOPLE LISTEN TO DURIN IV

Also love that other people just call him Durin the younger XD

Sauron just doesn’t know how to flirt, does he? Let me compare you to my ex-girlfriend. That will win you over, right? Also, your boss is secretly that flaming, stinky thing you saw. Just trust me on this

“Meet again in a far green country under a sweet sunrise” *cries*

Elendil puts a clam for Isildur and it ends up being for Valandil *cries*

FUCKING KEMEN, YOU LITTLE SHIT!

“It’s in the way of the new aqueduct” Ok, that line reading made me laugh

HOW DARE YOU DESTROY THAT RELIC!! KEMEN YOU LITTLE SHIT

Elendil FINALLY punching the little shit

“May the Valar forgive me.”

Meanwhile the Valar are eating their popcorn and chanting: “punch the little shit. Punch the little shit.”

“Put it down, son” *cries*

VALANDIL NO!!!! KEMEN YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!

The washing away of the blood – just KEMEN YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!!!

So Isildur’s eventual return to Numenor is going to be realllllllllly awkward

“Just be mindful someone is not manipulating you” Sauron, you little shit

Poor Brimby, so terrified of questioning Annatar, but having to do it for his dwarf friends

And then Annatar’s all like, “While you lied, so it’s your fault.” Such a little shit

I really feel like Celebrimbor wants to say, “But I lie to my cousin all the time. It’s what family does, after all haha.”

I also love that Annatar’s like, well the dwarven rings were made under a cloak of deception and that’s bad, so let’s just finish the nine since we’re in hell anyway and Brimby’s just like, “Yes, the trauma and depression agrees with you.”

Poor Durin and Disa. They just want to do what’s right for their people and their king. :(

Also that need flourish to the dwarven theme kicks ass. Well down Bear McCreary

 Poor Brimby. Lashing out at his artists because he can’t come out and admit what he did and all that guilt and shame eating him from the inside out. He needs Durin IV to move in with him and call bullshit whenever Annatar speaks

“The nine must redeem us all” *Cries* You did nothing wrong, Brimby, except trust a random man who did an impressive lightshow and called himself a messenger from the gods. Yeah…that wasn’t your best moment haha

And then the trembling hands because he knows something is wrong, he just can’t figure it out and he knows he’s to blame but he can’t understand why. *cries*

Charles Edwards is going to break me in the next few episodes as we get closer to the end.

I love how Gil-Galad is like we can’t defeat both Sauron’s and Adar’s armies and that’s it. End of scene. It’s like, do you have a plan? Are you going to do anything besides look pretty and depressed?

Adar! Adar! Adar!

Why does Adar look so turned on by Galadriel holding a knife to his neck? XD

[thequibblah]

Hi Suuuuze!! Has been like 2 months since I send you my last review and I am SO sorry!!

I’m kind of cheating myself in this because I’m reading CT in two fronts: this one in my private phone and another in my workplace phone. There I’m already on chapter 46!!!! 😅

I wil try very hard to the synchronise the two again since I want to give my first reaction to chapter 52 in here

Sooooo Chapter 5: Ties That Bind

The way Doe is invested in find Mary a rebound is everything to me!! And she is treating it like something very professional hahahaha

Remus made a face. “Smooth sailing for you, maybe.” - Poor Remus!!

You know, I kind of miss fic’s with the boys being boys, theirs times together. This part made me want more of this…

Sirius is that kind of kid that was raised by his parents to own the world (pureblood, first born, the heir of the family and handsome), to rule the world. He thinks a little like this, like he is better than everyone, but at the same time he was abused by them and he learned a lot with his friends and his own mistakes. I can see this in your writing, so I should thank you for this!

But he had, overall, a rather tepid opinion of Lily Evans, having assumed the role of the cynical, protective friend. - We know darling, and you are forgiven.

I don’t know why maybe because of Dex but in my mind Doc was a Hufflepuff… 😬

Speaking of Doc, there’s a reason why the boys don’t like him?? It’s because of all the drama involving MM and MB?? Or there is another reason?

Poor Sirius too… He is kind of hyperactive isn’t he?

Her friend gave her a look as if to say she wasn’t fooling anyone. It’s for things like this that I love your Mary, she knows how to read the in between’s. Never change Mary my dear.

“My sort? I don’t think I’m a nice boy, really. I can be quite a prick sometimes — though I’m working on it.” - Yeah Dorcas, don’t push him to Mary, he’s YOUR type!

iv. All Your Loving - About this hole section I have 1 thing to ask: WHY IS ALWAYS JAMES??? Why can’t it be Snape at least once?? I would love to see him suffering, not my good boy James (and me in extension)

He’s — he and I are in a strange phase of pre-friendship and I don’t think either of us is handling it well. - Turns out I have another question: Dex knew of the rumours about Jily?

Thank you for this part where the boys simply support each other, even with a sad Sirius I like this part pretty much! It’s the beginning…

The last bit of Mary and Doe it’s just heartwarming, I loved every part of it!!!

And that’s all!! Thanks again!! 😘

HELLO! omg you are rereading TWICE that's so crazy 😭😭😭😭

and thank you for the note about sirius! there's plenty of characters in this fic who put on a facade to hide their insecurities but sirius does it in a very specific, very mercurial way i find so fun to write. sometimes he lets people take knocks at him, other times he just will not have it—and that spark of pride/defiance feels very much like a residue of his life at his parents' house.

hahah doc, a hufflepuff? never!

and thank you—i love that doe and mary are both quite emotionally intelligent, but in such different ways. they play off each other so well because of it.

they just don't like him because doc's a bit of a snob, tbh! he's not wildly friendly, nor is he sporty so he and james have never had that in common. it's not that they hate him or anything, it's just that james and doc have run in similar social circles for a long time and they've never actively been friends—unlike say frank who james has always seen as a good sort

dex knew what everyone in school knew: that james had asked lily out very publicly at the end of fifth year. everyone comes to their own conclusions about that!

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

fandom get to know me better

was tagged by @nozunhinged AND @jeffsatyr so i had too

3 ships you like:

ok 3 that im into lately

villaineve- they make me turn into the joker <3

aobpuen - like i feel lik if you get it you get it like... i dont have words for them if i think about them too hard i need to bite something

sakuatsu - ride or dies the great fan artists and fic writers of the world have done such wonderful work

the three that im obsessed with currently (like fundamentally changed me

sandray - if you follow me on here you know. literally the last thing i think about before going to sleep and the first thing i think about when i wake up. they were manufactured in a lab to make me periodically lose my mind actually like, id never watched a thai series or heard of them and the only reason i chose to watch only friends was a ray edit someone made right after episode ONE that felt like it was bat signalling me and here i am 7?? months later a fully changed person..... like they will forever be a part of me now i think ill never be the same

vegaspete - similar to sandray in that i watched kinnporsche because of the vegaspete gifsets on the dash and was surprised to find out the series was not about them having bdsm sex in front of the corpse of a hedgehog like i was led to believe, not that i didnt end enjoying kp anyway. they alone would have been enough to make me obsessed but the things people create about them have changed me, thoroughly, like i am unrecognisable to myself after certain fics and fanart....

bokuaka - they are essential to my lore actually, like i dont post about them or engage with them as much as i used to because they are like my eyelashes like they are just a part of me now. bokuaka fanfic was what got me through high school tbh.

First ship ever: idk because ive wrote fic about characters since i was like 8..... actually im gonna be cringe and say chad and ryan from high school musical cause they were real to me when i was in elementary school <3

Last song you heard: good for what by little simz cause it will always get my pumped no matter what

Favorite childhood book: i read like a book a day when i was a kid but i think my favorite was the box car children even tho it traumatized me...

Currently reading: im always in a state of rereading my poetry collection and its recently been claude mckay but i need good novel recs PLEASE SEND THEM TO ME

Currently watching: at the peak of covid fever i started pit babe and im around halfway? thru now, also 23.5 the series as it comes out, and abbott elementary, and tsukutabe, also want to rewatch iwtv 2022... then theres all the shows my mutuals i posting about that i want to watch (im looking at you dead friends forever and moonlight chicken)

Currently consuming: hamantaschen that are supposed to be for tm but there raspberry jam flavored so im celebrating early 🫡

Currently craving: for food: i havent had cheesecake in like 5 years but i think about her everyday. in life: to try to get into the drag scene

ill tag @le-trash-prince @lilleeboi @jenyifer @kitas-cleaning-supplies @luminouschaotic @bokuto-my-beloved

and whoever wants to!!!

[daringdoombringer]

HERE ARE MY IDEAS FOR AN IMAGINATORS REVAMP/REWRITE AU RAHHHH

Skylanders Imaginators has always had a soft spot in my heart for being the first (and so far only) Skylanders game ive actually played. Despite it being a bit lackluster compared to the other games, it’s still my favorite and I wanna do it justice. I still wanna keep the feel of Imaginators, like not have it be a complete overhaul. Just have the existing story be more complex and interesting.

So here’s a summary of the story mode.

It starts as usual with Kaos sending a Doomlander to steal a book from the academy. Said book being the Tome of the Ancients, and it contains loads of knowledge on Mind Magic and what the ancients have made. (This is how he finds out about the Helm of Ultimate Wisdom and the Mind Golem later)

The Brain is replaced by a character known only as the Mind Golem. It is an automaton created by the Ancients as an immense source of knowledge and Mind Magic power. It was sealed away eons ago by the Dragons, as it had used its power and sentience for evil. You have to try and stop Kaos from reawakening it, but spoiler alert: he somehow does so anyway.

Cue the Mushroom River and Scholarville levels. Kaos then tries to create a Doomlander with the combined power of the Imaginite and the Helm of Ultimate Wisdom at Shellmont Shores. Lo and behold, something goes wrong, a giant vortex of Mind Magic is created, and we have to fix it.

Afterwards, Glumshanks figures out the Helm contains directions to an ancient tomb witch houses the Mind Golem.

We then have to take back the Sky Baron Battleship. After doing that, Kaos uses the Helm a second time and successfully summons/creates a giant darkness-Imaginite-goo monster, (Guacamole felt a little too silly) thanks to the energy shared from the Mind Golem now that he knows where it is. We explode that gooey goober into a million pieces and proceed to follow Kaos on a wild goose chase throughout the next few levels on the Battleship as he goes after the Mind Golem.

Along the way, we encounter many Doomlanders, whether they be miniboss enemies or full bossfights at the end of a level. As we progress they become more monstrous as Kaos gets closer to the Mind Golem. They are decorated with Imaginite shards we have to destroy in order to defeat them.

Finally, Kaos reaches the Vault of Visions, where the Mind Golem is. Kaos finds and reawakens it with the Mind Magic he’s mastered, we have to fight it, and he runs away with it. Little does he know, the golem has its own plans. (dun dun DUNNN)

Now this would be the part where Kaos tells his supposed “new toy” to cast a brainwashing spell. But the Mind Golem is like “lmao nah” and brainwashes Kaos instead! Kaos’ immense ego and ignorance are pushed aside turning the sorcerer into a truly terrifying threat. This is all too much for Glumshanks and he contacts the Skylanders saying “uh hi I might need your help Lord Kaos has gone insane again” or something along those lines. Level or two later we get to Kaos’ lair and confront the Mind Golem. We still have to use a giant tactical cake to do so, that parts pretty funny so I’m keeping it.

Finally, we get inside with Kaos and the Mind Golem waiting for us. Kaos snaps out of his trance and scolds the golem, only for him to accidentally fuse with it somehow,(?) starting the final boss. Idk it’s pretty similar to the final boss of Giants but anything is better than the Goku wannabe we got tbh. No idea if the Mind Golem is going to be redeemed (like how The Brain was canonically) or if we have to destroy one of the last remaining pieces of ancient technology for the sake of Skylands. This idea’s still a wip.

But… yeah that’s the main synopsis of the story! I wanted to try and have stuff like Mind Magic, Imaginite, and The Doomlanders play a bigger role. They were kinda just “there” canonically.

Will be posting the gameplay tweaks/possibly art later lemmie know what y’all think of this idea👀👀

[schizopositivity]

hello, sorry if this is hard to read i am having some trouble at the moment but i had a question and your blog has been very helpful to me in the past so i figured i would try?

im almost definitely schizophrenic (as in my doctor's have said this and just want to do some extra clarifying testing this week before providing the diagnosis. either way it is guaranteed i have a psychotic condition) and have been experiencing a ramp up in symptoms laately, many of which i am only barely able to convince myself are not real, because of my treatment and previous severe episode. the issue is that ive just woken up and i had a dream that was terribly related to what i have been experiencing in the day, and its throwing me off, because i dont know if thats possible in schizophrenia which makes it hard to rationalize that it isnt real.

i wont go into it extensively because it could cause issues for people (content warning for some mentions of unreality here to clarify what happened, its only this paragraph!) but i have been experiencing voices belonging to tvs in my head, and a lot of existential worry on if anything is real, if im awake, etc. last night i had a dream with the same tv voices as a major theme, and at the end of my dream a character acknowledged i was dreaming, and i had a false awakening too. this has all thrown me for a loop because since i dont know if the disorder can impact dreams, it makes everything hold so much more weight, and it is very distressing???

i am mostly just wondering if its possible for the disorder to impact dreams or cause you to have dreams related to hallucinations and delusions. i think i had some stuff similar to this last year in my last active episode, but its incredibly hard to remember.

im sorry for bothering and i hope this ask doesnt cause you any issues, i would just really like to know if it is possible for the disorder to show up in dreams like this. thank you for your blog and i hope youre having a very good day, your work is so appreciated and has brought me immense comfort while im being diagnosed

I think a psychotic episode can definitely impact your dreams. For most people (nonpsychotics included) dreams can feel weird, can be separate from reality, and can have you questioning things when you're finally awake. So it makes sense to me that someone who is already struggling with reality in their waking life would be even more impacted by these types of dreams.

Also for me when I was deep in my psychosis before treatment, everything in reality, and in my psychosis was always connected in strange ways. I'd find meaning in every little thing and connect it to a bigger picture that only existed inside my mind. And dreams played into this as well. Only after years of medication and therapy, I can see that things just sort of happen, and coincidences happen, and not everything is part of this bigger picture that revolves around me. I don't expect everyone to come to this conclusion on their own or even ever, but for me some very helpful mantras have been "shit happens", "it's not that deep" and "this is just the chemicals in my brain firing off, it means nothing".

Also if a dream, or the aftermath of a dream is distressing, it's totally valid to care for yourself after as if something distressing in your waking life happened. Practice your coping skills, do things that bring you comfort, rest and take care of yourself. Dreams being distressing is no joke.

[freebooter4ever]

You worry about the theoretical possibility of someone hitting your guys the way trouba hits everyone else instead of worrying about the not-theoretical guys he puts on IR multiple times a season?

He’s a real problem now, not just in your imaginary world where he’s on any other team.

So it sounds like you might really really dislike troubs, and if you don't want to block me the other option is blacklisting "NYR" - tumblr makes it really easy, and i am usually very careful to tag all my r*ngers reblogs/posts with that. I myself have one specific player's name blacklisted because just seeing it triggers me into anger. (discussion of the physical part of hockey got long, under tag)

There's two options: full tag, and also in the body of the post so tumblr will filter out ALL posts with that word. But it won't hide the posts it just gives a nice greyed out warning so you don't have to see it. Trust me, its great, it's the only way i got through having that asshole on my favorite team for a few months. (and you can still click to unhide the post, like say when geno is defending the pens goalie and swatting the asshole player like a fly and you want to reblog the gif)

For a direct response to your second point: troubs' hits were legal. I'm not afraid of him being traded to another team, i am quite literally afraid of another similar hitter on an oposing team taking retribution by landing a similarly legal hit on our forwards. I feel like troubs style leads to escalation and thats what worries me. like troubs targeting vulnerable mistakes of oposing forwards is putting a giant target on our own forward's backs.

BUT im a wimp. Always have been, i know this about myself. I dont like contact sports. I will watch football but not closely, i absolutely despise boxing, and even wrestling is pushing it sometimes. My formative years were spent in a karate dojo that emphasized self defence always. I excelled at kata and bunkai, but put me in the sparring ring and i wilt. One of my most distinct memories when i was 13 or 14 and shooting up taller than a weed was being forced to spar with this obnoxious teenage guy a head shorter than me. He had something to prove and landed an illegal punch on my nose. I was so mad i took that kid down with almost full force and then ran to the bathroom and bled all over my pristine white expensive cotton gi and cried like a baby and didnt come out till one of the women senseis sat with me and calmed me down. They never forced me into the sparring ring again after that, lol. what im saying is i dont like fights. If I had my way we would eric-bittle-ify hockey and checking wouldn't be a thing.

BUT with hockey im trying to be more open minded and understand how this fits into the game. And learn to appreciate it in addition to how much i admire the speed, and strategy, and more refined aspects of the game. Some parts i dont think i'll ever understand: like the borderline illegal hits, or the ones that are legal but extremely dangerous like the one that gave the poor penguin defense man a concussion during his first big league game. Now i have not been watching long but i have heard that troubs has hit sid in the past? I dont know anything about it, i dont think i want to. If it happened again? Yeah troubs might end up on my blacklist. But for now he's still the captain of the team, and the team genuinely seems to appreciate troubs very loyal very aggressively defensive phsyical style of play.

But also i mean, trochk picked on geno for like three games straight last season, and i dont think geno was even injured, but ive lowkey hated trochk ever since and have a hard time rooting for trochk as much as the rest of the guys on the team so lol dont hold me to any loyalties.

[fetabathwater]

so can i ask how you see amma and gortash's relationship prior to receiving a knife in the head? ive seen how other people write it and then i found your fics and im interested in how you came to liking the dark urge and gortash

honestly found it due to insanity. < joking.

on a serious note my kryptonite in games has always been some degree of connection between characters, because i have such a love/hate relationship with how it widens the world and interpersonal relationships but can also simultaneously seem to make everything seem relatively small. but with bg3 i kind of really like that balance there because like, anything is quite frankly possible with durge anyway - the only traits are like 1) spawn of bhaal 2) serial killer (?) 3) worked with the other dead three chosen within the last 2 years and 4) was knifed by another chosen of bhaal and tadpoled. you can make up anything and everything because the game is dnd and the rules are whatever, too. yeah you get context clues from other characters, like that ketheric fundamentally can't stand anyone, but the chosen(s) of bhaal more so, and he tolerated the durge bc at least they had a work ethic (LOL), and gortash like plans 500 steps ahead so made it his prime directive to touch base with the bhaalist leader and be like, hey man, wanna go break into some places with me? or wanna take over the world? raphael is also there. yknow.

also definitely the delivery of lines sold me too - not just gortash's VA, but the way orin kind of like looooaaattthhhheeesss how durge was seemingly wrapped up in other shit ( slash sarevok is even like. yeah you thought you were untouchable and didnt notice that orin was making her own move for the throne . idiot. stupidhead. worst chosen next 2 me). also all the other characters as well who have something to say, like kressa, helsik and naaber, never mind all of the moonrise tower and then the quests in act 3, but starting earlier with just partially revealed information.

i . okay yeah like i have seen some interesting sort of takes of durge / gortash and each to their own etc etc but i think that the durge has a lot more agency than ppl wanna give them credit for, and i think people also vastly underestimate that gortash also seemingly underestimated them as well - like just bc durge wrote some like note about forgive me father but i am being charmed by the chosen of bane (however u wanna interpret that ofc), they did still end it with oh well ! i'll probably feel a tiny smidgen of guilt when i backstab him but we're gonna end the world in ur name dad ! praise bhaal! LIKE. THE DURGE WAS DEFINITELY GONNA STILL KILL EVERYONE - EVEN THE NETHERBRAIN WAS LIKE. YEAH YOU HELD IT ALL TOGETHER AND YOU SCARED ME EVEN A LITTLE BIT. YOU WERE GONNA KILL EVERYONE.

honestly though ive barely actually posted anythign i have written for them teehee i checked. it was like 2 fics. 1 of them they were fucking. so i mean take that how you will ... but like i mean amma and gortash's "relationship" extends back longer than what the range of the game gives, at least in my mind and what ive like. got an idea of anyway for her pre-bg3 life / adventures were like. but as far as how they like interact it is barely above tolerable. towards the absolute sort of planning it is running a lot warmer, but theyre just. aware of each other. in some similar circles because of well. lower city activities etc. a general equal partnership with stepping on each others toes, seeing how far to push the other. amma probably does hold on some threatening level a bit more of a . position. just because like (okay hindsight compared to orin), it is literally her own person not having her run gortash through - and he knows that. with orin he makes her basically agree to a magical contract to not harm him, but amma's the only thing holding herself back from just like. killing him. and for the most part she probably would just be mildly inconvenienced and it would probably leave her bed running a bit cold but like. she would bounce back. it would just INCONVENIENCE the plan heavily because chosen of bane are few and far between.

and also she knows that gortash also primarily gives the targets that are convenient for him, and there definitely times when it was bordering on a bit too much pointing and doing - and in her mind not enough equal weight pulling definitely. very much a case of balancing the scales in terms of doing their part, especially with the like multiple heists they perform (at least 3 minimum), and not just being aware of the other especially prior to both being selected as the chosen of their respective god. but yeah. there is no real "love" between them, no love lost either. arguably amma doesnt really know what love is, or in her own roundabout way expresses it much in the way of loving something so much you have the urge to eat it. yeah, amma does have a slight attachment, one that kind of hits a higher speed immediately prior to being knifed and tadpoled, because that is when we get the heists and actual partnership and its not just the introduction of the steel watch and him clawing his way up the social ladder by encouraging favour by lords and ladies and their beds, and its not the bhaalists just kind of sitting by idle and waiting for something to kick them into gear because yeah people are dying but at the same time, its not striking the fear into people's hearts like it used to, just letting them fade into history, despite bhaal's return like 10yrs prior.

amma kind of hates that gortash actually gave her a way to bring them back into the fray, and that she also does have to hold off from not ending him before the plan would have worked completely. a lot of that feeling is in the few times that she does like, strike out at him, either with planned wounds or if she has violently lashed out in general and even when they fuck, honestly. when amma does wrangle herself back into that position of control, especially in a position where gortash is incredibly vulnerable, its messes with her hatred so bad. she doesnt know if he is willingly submitting to her, because yeah she loves a bit of fighting back, hair pulling, scratching, getting told off, what can she say. definitely does something to her. but amma kind of loves when she's almost literally got him underfoot.

she wouldve followed the plan through to the end as well, so it is a mixed blessing for a lot of people that orin took an opportunity to strike at her.

ultimately its not so much that whole like 'i can fix him / i can make him worse' stuff either, because like amma did have a chance at a "normal" life, but she still returned to the temple of bhaal (whether or not by her own choice is ofc . debatable lmao). gortash was sold to a warlock, beaten in the house of hope routinely, escaped only to wind up in street gangs, eventually made his way to being an arms dealer, worked up the social ladder with equal parts sex and money and blackmail, sold possibly his friend into slavery for technology (we just really dont know the full extent of what zariel promised yknow), was the one who reached out to the bhaalist leader and concocted the idea to raid a vault or two, both in faerun and the hells. like, they were choices that were made, to keep them both firmly though on the side of like... theyre not realistically good people, their childhoods definitely shaped them, but they didnt try to change then and there. they just stay the same, and there is no getting better or worse. there just is.

[nebulablakemurphy]

My dear author ive been reading your Draco fic and I must admit, I'm a little dumb (super dumb in fact lol) so I am a wee bit confused, do you think you can explain what it is they had decided to do with the curse and the removal of memories? 😅 I'm sure its just me but like with all the time jumps and everything, it has me scratching my head like an idiot so please help me understand

P.S. I really like the story and I've been enjoying reading it

First off, thank you for reading. I’m sure the time jump situation might make it confusing. Usually I separate present day from past events with italics, I didn’t do that here. The only time we’re seeing present day Draco is in the first passage of part 1. After that, it’s picking up right before the war and we stay on that timeline for the duration of events leading up to present day.

Now about the curse/memory situation, you’re not stupid at all, the pace is just very quick, so if you blink you’ll miss it type thing. It’s mostly based around this line of the prophecy from part 1 “Through love and by love, castles will crumble.”

So the first thing they decided to do is stage a break up, stay away from each other and make it seem like they don’t have feelings for each other.

However once information about this prophecy gets back to Voldemort, he’s made up his mind that he wants Rosanna under his control. Easiest way to do that, make Draco a death eater and bring Rosanna back to the manor. He wants them to fulfill this prophecy in his favor.

Because as the prophecy also states, “A lion heart, tried and true; chooses a side the other must lose.”

So both Rosanna/Draco and Voldemort/his inner circle have been picking this prophecy apart and they’re both trying to control the outcome in different ways.

The dark side is thinking it’s a baby, similar to the way that Harry’s birth was prophesied. Taking “Born from the dirt, through he, blossoms.” From the prophecy very literally. To them, this baby is their chosen one that will somehow sway the tide of the war between light and dark.

Draco and Rosanna are more focused on the “through love and by love,” aspect of the prophecy. So how can they stop loving each other? This is covered briefly in part 2 in the room of requirement. They could use a time turner, but that might make it worse.

They could use a memory charm, that won’t work for Draco because there are details untwined with their shared memories that Voldemort would easily be able to identify as missing.

They could get rid of just her memories, but then they also run a risk of Rosanna being asked something she should know, but doesn’t have an answer to. Which brings us to the imperius curse.

They ultimately decide on this because, they can get rid of her memories without being caught. Rosanna will not remember Draco, she won’t be in love with him. She’ll be doing whatever Voldemort demands of her so he will not get suspicious.

The imperius curse is a last ditch effort to slow down Voldemort’s plan and give Harry, Ron and Hermione more time. In the end does help Harry win but also lands Draco in a lot of trouble post war.

A case is opened against him, by the ministry, for the use of memory altering charms, abduction by means of the imperius curse and false imprisonment by means of the imperius curse.

There has always been speculation surrounding whether or not their oldest child was conceived while Rosanna was under the influence of the imperius curse. Which is what the men on the radio are discussing in part 1 present day.

When Draco was originally charged, immediately after the war, he is cleared of all charges, but now someone within the ministry has reopened the file and is leaking information to the public.

Resulting in the demand to recharge Draco for war crimes committed against Rosanna. Even though she’s already testified in his defense, even though using the imperius curse was her idea, even though it was only used to slow down Voldemort. It’s a major gray area and people are still divided about what the ideal outcome should be.

This story is very layered and spans over the course of 20+ years. More details and clarity come to light as the story unfolds. So please never feel silly for asking a question. I hope this clears things up! 💜

[ruemilley]

thoughts on The Blog + 2024 year in reflection + next year goals

hi there, long time no talk. if you don't remember why you're following me, it's probably because i wrote a lot of mp100 fanfic like five years ago. i haven't posted much on this blog this year besides reblogging some fundraisers and i want to try and use this more. hope you're doing well!

i think i tend to be pretty precious about what i put on this blog, because in my mind i wanted it to be creative updates and art only, but more and more i realize that i really enjoy reading what artists i follow are up to and thinking about whether it's creative or not. so i want to try and post more casually too. sharing what im up to + occasional reblogs. i hope you enjoy that kind of stuff too.

i made a tag on the blog for stuff ive made called.. #stuff ive made. so it'll still be easy to find my art and writing. ill probably make a pinned post with that info in a little bit.

ok, so other orders of business, how was 2024 for me?

2024 was pretty good for me. it was not quite what i thought it would be-- i had a few different goals at the beginning of the year that i ended up shifting on. i also cannot find my new year's resolutions from last year which is surprising because i pretty much always make them.

however, i made some general accomplishments that im pretty happy with, such as:

switching from misc freelance scrambling and part time work to a 40hr/week job, with way better pay

going to water aerobics twice a week fairly consistently, which is the first time i've consistently exercised maybe ever

taking my health more seriously in general

finishing a rough draft of a comic script (which i then put aside, due to next accomplishment)

finally dipping my toes into game dev which i have always wanted to try but was always too scared to

cutting way back on social media usage and being stricter with how much time i spend on my phone

generally Putting Myself Out There more and making friends in da city

so i'm pretty pleased. however, as i think at the end of every year, i still feel my creative output is not what i wanted it to be. admittedly i did draw more than i have in a while. i worked on several projects and got a few things off the ground. but not much i feel i can share. i feel like i consistently did more, but my output was just very slow. this is partly from working on larger projects and things that are time consuming, but man, i want to prioritize this stuff more.

i also find that i am struggling a bit about what i want to be working on creatively. i have ideas but everything's a bit half formed. i think this year i've unearthed some insecurities about the quality of my work and ideas-- i think previously i just told myself that if i sat down and did stuff i would be a savant, i just hadn't gotten around to it yet. this was definitely just from a fear of failure. ok, so i did sit down and do some stuff and it was kind of just ok-- at least to me. what now?

so, i need more time to work on stuff and i need to develop my Artistic Voice or whatever. point one is a bit easier to find a solution for, even if it's scary- im planning to cut back my work hours in the new years and set aside fridays for personal project time only. this is mostly stressful because everything on earth is only getting more expensive but i think i just need to do this. if i don't i will always wonder what if.

...point two is vaguer. how do you develop an artistic vision and goal? admittedly, i think i put way too much pressure on myself to have consistent creative styles and interests. but at the same time, out of all the things i love, there has to be something im drawn to creatively, right? even if i haven't realized it yet? besides anime fanfic epics?

well, probably just in the doing things will emerge. i'll focus on that for now. this seems like a similar question to high schoolers asking how you get an Art Style, and not realizing that's just something that naturally emerges when you draw a lot. you can certainly point it in certain directions, but it won't settle and be yours unless you do it a lot.

okay, what else. i have some other personal goals i won't share here, but one more i WILL share here is i think in 2025 i really want to engage with less passive media. i love to put on a youtube video essay and play a game on my phone. lots of half attention to things that don't deserve my whole attention. i think that's ok sometimes to relax and unwind, but i feel like i missed out on so many cool stories by doing that. i feel good about this goal because it's less about Reading Twenty Five Books This Year Because That's Good For Me and more about experiencing stories because i want that.

this year i read stone butch blues and i remember thinking at the end of it, why am i not reading things like this all the time? why am i not devoting myself to experiencing beautiful works of art? why am i more likely to put on ten hour let's play of a mediocre PS2 game that no one has ever heard of than to watch a two hour classic movie that will emotionally resonate and maybe change my life?

...well, it's partially because that gets emotionally exhausting. it's ok to chill out some. but i don't want to pacify myself all the time. i need to think about how to make this a Measurable Goal or whatever, but i'm excited about it.

i think that's all i will put here. i hope you have a good new year's and that 2024 wasn't too painful for you. i feel as though most of the internet was cruel and disheartening this year- endless windows into the worst of humanity. things that were painful to read, while also knowing they would be thousand and thousands time worse to experience. even so, i saw a lot of kindness too-- people reaching out to help, and the generosity of my friends and family. i hope you saw some of that too. here's to 2025.

[privacyredux]

62oz water

6:53pm - los angeles

i talked to valeria a lot today and she kind of inspired me to try to use this a bit more and maybe a little more productively? i'm not sure about all that, but it's worth a bit of a try.

i'm not sure i'm that concerned with tracking what i'm eating for meals or anything like that and unfortunately i'm a bit too late to be tracking my dreams. i know i had one last night though and one of my friends did something kind of weird in it. i remember waking up thinking i would text them about the thing they did, but i ended up going back to sleep and completely forgot about it. anyway, i don't even know that i'll be able to keep up with a daily thing, but at least the amount of water i drank so far in the day can be a tribute to the inspiration.

i watch uglies and it was bafflingly bad? strange? i don't know, but i did kind of find it amusing enough that i'm annoyed that it barely had an ending and i'm not so sure there's going to be a sequel to make up for that.

as i mentioned, i talked to valeria a fair amount of the day, she and i talked about tattoos and religion a bit. she really seems like a very centered and balanced person to the point it's pretty admirable. i honestly find her kind of fascinating. i'm not sure if i'm annoying to her or not, but i think ive at least been entertaining enough to warrant a small bit of attention.

i spoke with brina a bit too. she seemed upset and said as much, but didn't really get too into detail. i wanted to talk it out with her if she wanted, but i guess maybe she just didn't and that's why it ended up the way it did. i think she can be a bit hard on herself sometimes and i'm not sure why. i think once she's on tour and sees how all her work paid off, it'll be a bit better. i hope that's the case anyway.

and as is usual, i've spoken with charlie a lot. she's been a very good friend and always really entertaining to talk to. it was actually kind of crazy how chatgpt just knew shit about me. i'm sure that sounds stupid but i'm not a completely private figure, but it still kinda freaked me out.

like yeah, it's a stupid little which new girl character am i most like thing and i can even see where there's some overlap with schmidt even though i'm not completely certain it's in the things listed necessarily. i don't know it was just really weird to come to terms with the fact that i could be analyzed in this way by ai.

i really need to rewatch the first season of rings of power though. i think blair is going to start it soon and as soon as she starts talking to me about it i'm going to miss it immediately. plus i do wanna watch the second season and i barely even remember what happened in the first. well, i do, but i really like rewatching something right before watching the new stuff. it was kinda nice talking about it with someone who has a similar relationship to it. a lot of people are very critical of lotr related stuff wanting a perfect interpretation and perfect to them and what they think is right and i really have that childlike excitement that i can't believe there's more content i can watch and enjoy. i just really want to take it all in. i don't feel like that about everything. mostly lotr and community. it just unlocks a certain part of me that is happy it's happening regardless of its imperfections.

i tried to help a bit with rosalie's gender reveal/babyshower. i want it to be nice for her and i hope it's gonna be all that she wants. i still gotta work on trying to invite some more women because right now it's very man heavy. i don't know that she'd mind that. her friends are her friends that's just how it goes, but i'm sure they could offer support in more ways than i could at least. i can't really speak for anyone else.

i was kinda bummed i didn't do much friday the 13th stuff yesterday and was planning on fitting some in today, but all i did was listen to a kinda creepy podcast. it didn't scratch the itch really. maybe i'll try harder as the night goes on. if i don't make other plans.

de-luxe - lush

safe in your skin - title fight

goodbye - the sundays

[overlordchris]

More needless self reflection time.

The last 6 months have shown me that I really don’t care about a lot of things anymore.

Like, this as a whole sort of happened maybe 8ish years ago, I started to find it really hard to watch shows, finish video games, even read books, which up until that point was one of my favorite past times.

A common question on depression questionnaires is something along the lines of “have you lost interest or pleasure with things you used to enjoy”, which probably is a part of it, even though I can honestly say I’ve felt depressed since at least as far back as 12, that part of things never hit until a few years after I was in a relationship with my former partner.

In no way did it have anything to do with them, just to be clear, it just happened to coincide. Unfortunately.

I want to recapture my interests. Heck, I still have a longing for such things, it’s just that I can’t seem to get there whenever I try. I can only really describe it as with tv shows, there’s a growing uncomfortableness the more I watch, the more I’m invested, especially if it’s multiple episodes at a time. It’s sort of similar with games as well, though I think partly that’s more tied to them being great at getting my mind focused on something outside myself, so I dread them ending because once it ends, it will no longer be the mental relaxer it had been, opening the door for worse things to come back in.

Yes, it’s very nonsensical. Avoiding the game does the same thing with removing the mental relaxer, but at the very least, the gnawing anxiety isn’t there if I’m not constantly reminded as much. Out of site, out of mind. But of course, I still feel that longing curiosity to see it to the end.

Again, nonsensical.

But, as bad as it was/is, I’ve learned that what has kind of taken place is a desire to experience things, but with only with others.

Like Ive mentioned, I still have interest in a lot of things, but I for whatever reason don’t feel the motivation I guess to dive into most of them.

Movies are a great example. I like movies. I used to really like going to movie theaters and seeing all kinds of things, from small indie productions, to the mainstays we all know.

But, as much as I enjoy movies, over the years I’ve been less and less motivated to watch something, unless there’s someone else there with me.

Sure, there’s probably some social anxiety involved with say, going to a theater by myself, but more so I feel that it being a lonely experience is what really dissuades me. Not so much in the physical sense, but in the emotional ones.

The enjoyment I now find I get with doing most things is seeing the other person, or people in some cases (people I know and care about at least), enjoying the thing. It’s being able to share an experience that makes the experience itself worthwhile. Or maybe not worthwhile, but enough to get me motivated to actually do it? Maybe both?

Even as writing this I’m coming up with new theories. Like I just had the idea it’s maybe tied to me not wanting to let other people down? Honor my commitments? Thinking back to my recent failed relationship, when there were things I mentioned interest in, like movies I would have liked to go see, and my partner did not show any interest themselves, my motivation to try and see the movie would disappear. I still wanted to watch and experience the movie, it’s just, I’m pretty sure I wanted to share the experience.

Maybe it has something to do with acceptance? Like, if someone likes the same thing as me, and wants to experience something with me, it makes me feel like I matter to someone?

These are questions cause, I don’t know if I’m making actual self assessments, or just talking out of my ass. I can’t really trust my view on me cause I have a negative bias related to me. But, I’m gonna follow this a bit more.

I’ve always had a hard time fitting in with other people. It’s hard to describe, but generally my attempts at being intentionally social as a kid were very awkward. I always went I with a plan, and a goal. Maybe everyone does this and I was just bad at it? But when I meet someone, I’m actively studying them, what they’re saying, trying to find things out if maybe we have enough in common that I could then use that to convince them to have a good impression of me. Because I’m actively doing this in my head, I’m thinking and trying to listen at the same time, which causes me to miss some details when I am having a conversation. It also happens when it’s my turn to talk, where I try to think of what the best response would be, I sometimes stutter and/or flub my words because my mouth and voice cannot keep up with teleprompter style prepared response I’m trying express. Once the mistake has happened, my internal executive producer starts to scramble and try to formulate how to get back on track, fix the conversation, change it, all the while I’m still trying to finish getting through original response I had formulated.

Needless to say, I’m not good at conversation. Maybe people are able to detect that I’m more interested in trying to convince them I’m worthy of attention than just being friendly? Maybe it’s the fact I am terrible at turning my thoughts into words and I just come off as not actually knowing what I’m talking about (which is sometimes the case tbh)? Either/or, it’s something I’m very self aware that I’m not good with because my observation of others, which I do all the time (I’m a big eavesdropper) those conversations don’t feel as stiff or rehearsed.

Being so self aware, I’ve tried so so hard to try and make myself a better vocal communicator over the years. I’m definitely better than say 10 years ago, and I can’t tell you how bad it was back in my school days. Cringe.

That’s how I am with strangers, or people I don’t see often. In person, mind you. I think I’m pretty ok when I have the opportunity to write things out. Not great, but good enough.

With people I know, I still sort of do that analyzing and prepared responses, but the more comfortable I get with someone, the more excited I tend to get, you know? Like the fact they’ve come back to talk to me again (that’s not contractional or nefarious in nature) I tend to go off teleprompter script and shoot from the hip. But, in this case, I often become more… overbearing I think fits with what I’m thinking? I tend to talk a lot, get louder, I’m more animated with my gestures, I interrupt when tangentionala ideas or subjects come to mind, and often share with less of a filter on. This has often worn down those who maybe get passed the introduction phase, and as time moves on and I’m not able to reign things in properly, they end up leaving.

This entire conversational analysis tangent was to show that when I do find someone I like and start to feel comfortable with, it makes me feel accepted. Wanted even. I think ultimately that’s what I seek, feeling wanted, desired, important, accepted, all these different but similar meaning words in the different kinds of relationships they can apply to. Whereas I’ve seemed to have grown disinterested in a lot of things, when someone shows interest in me, it helps to motivate me to get up and get out there.

Is that codependency? I’ll have to look into that. I mean this all sort of feels like it’s a bad thing most ways you swing it. I could be considered a parasite of some sort, living off the joy and excitement of others? Parasites need hosts to survive because they cannot produce whatever necessary factor on their own. That’s kind of what I feel like I am.

I think why DnD has kept my interest when other things have fallen off is that it gives me that sort of accepted feeling. The people in the group all share a similar interest, and they keep allowing me to come back. That’s basically it. I’m pretty easy like that. I even went the next step and ran a few games for them because I was essentially wanting to share something of my own creation (the campaign specifically in this case), something I had put my “me-ness” into, and they continued to take part.

This isn’t to say I didn’t experience my manic phase with them. I had, and it did come close to me losing the group with how much I was pissing people off (not in a way you might think that typically comes of TTRPG horror stories, just more so with my high octane, low filter energy clashing with people just wanting to have a chill time). Thankfully I was able to reign myself back in enough that things were able to be smoothed over.

I’ve been a tad more distant with that group since, and hey, now that it’s been 6 months since my relationship ended, they’re still the only group of people still around. Everyone I knew I real life has ghosted me or were taken along with my ex. All that are left are the people I’m actively trying to keep at arms distance. I wish I could bond deeper with some of them, but I can’t. The more me someone gets, the less patient they become.

I’ve wanted to believe that I could find someone, or someones who I could feel comfortable enough to be effortlessly myself around, but I just can’t seem to. I don’t want to settle anymore, but because of that, I don’t want to even try anymore. I’m too much, I can’t change, and in some ways, I don’t even want to change. I want to just be me, with someone else who wants to be with just me.

Maybe there is someone out there who could vibe perfectly with me. But what are the odds I’d ever meet them? With the only case study to go off of being myself, slim to none.