#this is me reminding not only myself but YOU too my friend!

[yourcomfywoolsocks]

Reminds me of an interaction I had maybe last year or so.

I stayed late a friends house on a Friday after a long week. My only way home was the last train and my friend offered to drive me.

We got stuck at a traffic light and saw the train pull in, so naturally, I jumped out and made a mad dash for it. Skipping up concrete steps and all that shit. I was almost there, and I tripped, skinned my knee and somehow my knuckle ended up bleeding too.

I made it, though.

As I got on, the conductor told me to walk, that there's no rush.

He was an older Ukrainian man (I assume based on his accent), with salt and pepper hair.

At the time I was pushing myself way too hard and doing way too many things, all while working an office next to a previous supervisor that had harassed and threatened me in a way that couldn't be reported.

Needless to say, I was overwhelmed. The tears came more from all that pent up exhaustion and stress than my bleeding knuckles.

The conductor sat with me briefly and made sure I was okay. He didn't mention the tears, but insisted I not run for the train. That nothing was more important than my health. And as he turned to return to his job he said "You are the most beautiful person. Everyone else..." he waved his hand as though swatting the thought away "doesnt matter."

I haven't run for a train since. It might've been the last one, but there were always other options, I wasn't alone, and I realize that now. In more ways than one.

[bruhstation]

hello tumbled er

greetings and salutation. it is I, senja heterocaine, speaking to you through your favorite home screens. now you might be wondering: where on earth has senja heterocaine disappeared to these past 5 months? well the answer is as simple as it gets

I focused on my studies.

well yes that is the main reason. but that's like the nerd "obvious" answer. there’s other reasons too. some of which includes me getting into new interests, revisiting my old, hibernating interests, getting involved in university organizations and events, getting more involved in big family stuff since I'm the oldest and the only of-age grandchild of grandma from mom's side.... lots of stuff

so I just finished the third semester of premed school right. honestly speaking, with how I was losing motivation on drawing, the art block post-art fight, and lack of time, I decided to well, take a break. and it’s pretty convenient too since it was early on in the third semester. during the entirety of it I was feeling pretty proud of myself like "oh I've been studying a lot. I've taken a break from drawing and blog stuff. surely things will get better" and it did! not immensely but it's significant enough that for once I don't feel an indescribable sense of terror after the semester ends. the focus of this semester was about reproduction systems and growth and development which is pretty fun? we get to use models and medical phantoms hands-on and poke them with needles and other rube goldberg contraptions. I did miss breeding bacterias in petri dishes and seeing my friends burn the microbiology lab’s ceiling like last semester though. my grades are also improving… slowly but surely

(aftermath not pictured: me lounging on the couch scrolling through quora to see if there are people currently in college wanting to drop out)

maybe I was aiming too high. at least my grades are better than the previous two semesters and my social life is much better than it was back in high school. speaking of exams -- I went through my first osce exam around a week ago (practical exam to see if you can actually perform the skills labs lessons from the entire semester like you're a real physician). it was the most terrifying day of the month. my dentist said I have a big tongue and that’s why I can’t speak properly if I’m being too fast. ntm I WAS NERVOUS!!! MY FIRST OSCE!!! with how I memorized everything I needed, I was pretty confident that I'd pass, though. I didn't and retook the exam the next day. the prelude was the worst crash out ever

ah ptooey. I'll just take it like a champ. my tutor who's 3 years older than me and currently in the anesthetic rotation of co-ass told me that things will get easier but that's very subjective. he's a medical olympiad student after all. my parents are pretty happy though with how my academic life is becoming better so that's that

LETS MOVE ON TO SOMETHING LIGHTER. section B: what I've been getting into ever since bruhstation was put on cryostasis

you know Transformers One (2024)? the transformers movie directed by josh cooley? based on the Transformers(tm) franchise by Takara Tomy and Hasbro? most tragic break up movie of the decade? I watched it twice, squealed once, and left me broken and inconsolable for weeks on end. it made me revisit my dormant transformers interest after 5 years. I've reread the idw comics (mtmte, LL, taao, main transformers comic), and is currently checking out more (reading the wreckers saga right now). god it made me miss rodimus and friends' zany space opera adventures. I've always envisioned casa tidmouth to have the same tone as mtmte... the oftentimes dark humor, fridge horror stuff, weird magic/science, the roller coaster of emotions, confronting the past... its crazy good.

stories where misfits and knuckleheads band together in a confined space while having crazy doctor who-like adventures am I right. like I want casa tidmouth to be like that. remind me to thank 14 year old me for this trip down memory lane. and as usual, I tend to make self-indulgent crossovers of any interest I'm thinking about at the moment with casa tidmouth

a terrifying sneak peak on what's to come.

I've been working on my oc projects too. you may have seen some of them on artfight (graciela, saudade, altair, etc) but I've been focusing the most on graciela and saudade's universe, children's heterotopia. it has the largest amount of characters in any story I've created (not counting casa tidmouth), the most effort put into planning the stories and weaving in its themes about capitalism, patriarchy, period-typical bigotry, etc. there's human experimentation and they're given powers that range from punching super hard to time and space displacement. I also inserted whatever I wanted into the story. sure, yes, there's a lesbians-only organization of which its members are named off the knights of the round table, theres a mafia that focuses more on the family drama and attempted parricide from all angles, and tragic assassin maids of which their names are wuthering heights references. also if you've been following my main tumblr hajimedics for a while, you might've seen my three fairly oddparents ocs. well I've given them the tezuka star system treatment and inserted them into children's heterotopia as well.

I've also gotten into UTAU production! I've made a number of UTAU covers but haven't uploaded them to youtube. only shared them around with my friends on priv twitter. a good friend of mine assisted in the creation of my own UTAU voicebank! their name is TORKA (like "torque"), their voice bank has a slight accent when singing in japanese (because I'm their voice lol) and CV-only, their in-universe lore is that they're an intergalactic train conductor picking up wayfarers and outcasts trying to find a place in the vast universe, and I love them dearly

moving on! this is a thomas the engine and company blog THIS IS A LIFE UPDATE POST

I'd rather not discuss about how I'm doing mentally in deep detail BUT what I'll say is that I can't confidently say "I'm doing better" or "I'm doing worse" because it always depends on the days. things are okay-ish nowadays. some days are scary. some days are boring. I still experience delusions, (ironically) worried about my anhedonia, and believe that certain bouts of confidence will trigger a jinx, but I think I've been controlling myself well? at least? I keep internalizing the belief that I'm an adult. 20 years old. I have to act accordingly and my life in real life is ten times more important than the internet. things are going to change more and more once I graduate premed and began the co-ass program. I have to think 10 steps into the future. building successful connections before you turn 30. sigma grindset and all that. sorry that was my father using my body as a spirit medium

AND ALSO. ALSO. BACK TO THE BLOG DO YOU GUYS REMEMBER THAT ONE TIME I PROMISED TO MAKE A COMIC BASED ON THE RESULTS OF THE 1000 FOLLOWERS POLL AND NEVER DID UNTIL NOW. I'm terribly sorry. I promise I will get into it I SWEAR procrastination is kicking my ass. I have to plan the dialogue and script and stuff AND DRAW BUT

BUT HERE’S THE FUNNY THING

THE BLOG REACHED 2000+ FOLLOWERS A FEW MONTHS AGO

NOW WHAT DO I DO TO CELEBRATE?

I don’t know honestly. I haven’t done the 1000+ followers celebratory comic, and NOW I HAVE 2000+ FOLLOWERS. THERES 2000+ OF YOU NOW!!!!! THAT’S CRAZY (IN A GOOD WAY)!!!! I thank you all for sticking with bruhstation through thick and thin for around 2 and a half years. I’m glad for all your support, fanarts, asks, and such truly. like wow. 2k. in such a short time too! thanks guys. admittedly, I feel kind of guilty to leave everyone hanging for months with nothing to give, especially with such a high follower number. and realistically? I don’t think I’ll be able to draw as much as I used to. like I’ve said earlier, I’ve been busy with my personal life and oc projects. it’s not like I’m abandoning this blog any time soon? I’m just speaking from a logical perspective, given my status as a student and (possibly, hopefully) future doctor too. I don't want to burn myself out posting like thrice a week, answering asks daily, I want to take things slow. at my own pace. maybe I'll focus on designing side characters as well and thinking about their roles in the story! but that's for another day. I’m just glad everyone’s still sticking around and enjoying my silly stuff

I do want to draw more for this blog! I want to put thomas and co. in more situations. make them dance for all our entertainments. but when you’re an adult, you realize that you have your own priorities. you can’t always do the things you wanna do. you can’t just drop something you don’t like out of the blue. sometimes you have to sigh, scratch the back of your neck, and brave it while saying “I sure am getting old”

oh and also I'm a butch lesbian now. still he/they (heavy preference on he/him), still preferring masculine terms like "mr", "sir", "guy", still as crazy as ever. still aroace too and not interested in dating, something that's been a constant in my identity ever since I'm in early high school. little have changed I can assure you this. I am still senja. senja heterocaine from the net.

and thus concludes senja’s life update post! what will the next post after this be about? something gordon-centric again? serious colored art? old men yaoi? silent hill UK localization? place your bets. everyone loves a good laugh

[thewertsearch]

pipefan413: Oh my, no. I am not actually your friend, dear. pipefan413: I am his mother! Hoo hoo hoo. fedorafreak: another of @ pipefan413's legendary pranks? pl clarify.

Oddly heartwarming to learn that Dad really did have a reputation as a prankster, which means it wasn’t just an act for John’s benefit. Either it started out as an act, and slowly became genuine, or he was always into pranks for real.

pipefan413: No, I am just an old woman looking for her son.

She doesn't even know. :(

This poor woman. Brought back to life, just so she can live through the death of her child.

pipefan413: You remind me of him so. Would you mind terribly if I talked to you for a little while? pipefan413: I am fearing the worst for my son, while my grandson has gone off to do great things. I've caught myself feeling a bit lonely, hoo. fedorafreak: can imagine no greater pleasure. fedorafreak: though, eyelids heavy. fedorafreak: getting dark; feeling in extremities, fading.

If only Nanna could heal beam him from here.

It just occurred to me that Fedorafreak isn’t guaranteed to make God Tier, even if he does die on his Quest Bed. This type of revival requires your Dream Self, and it’s very possible that it needs to be awakened, too. This seems unlikely, in Fedorafreak's case - but I live in hope.

pipefan413: Why don't you just lie there and rest? I will tell you a story. fedorafreak: @ pipefan413's kindly mother: ty pipefan413: It is a fairy tale about a young sister and brother who were raised by a wicked witch!

Now this is an endgame conversation, if I’ve ever seen one.

Nanna and Grandpa. Joan Egbert and Hass 'The Flame' Harley. Who were they, and how did they become what they are now? What's the true story behind the oldest Guardians of all?

pipefan413: The witch in truth was a world famous baking baroness. Her cruelty made life miserable for the two children, who did not have their father anymore to protect them.

Crocker – I looked her up – was the fictional brainchild of Bruce Barton, a Washburn-Crosby advertising executive who would later become a republican politician. I could probably extrapolate a lot of her Homestuck self’s personality from those details alone, and the fact that Grandpa fled from her custody fills in the rest of the blanks.

She was a terrible, terrible mother, and we know Grandpa left - so why didn't Nanna?

[doeidawn]

doeidawn's kinkmas day nine ❆ mirror sex

KINKMAS 2024 | PREVIOUS DAY | NEXT DAY

getting ready for a friend's christmas party turns out to be difficult when gaz keeps interrupting. 1.5k

❆ pairing: gaz x fem!reader

❆ tags: MDNI/18+; cheeky kyle; fingering; praise; watching yourself/mirror sex

“Kyle, darling, do I look alright?” You call out from the bathroom in hopes that your boyfriend was nearby to hear it. After one too many internal debates about how you looked, you decided it was best to call in the man who never got tired of looking at you. Granted, he’d say you looked good no matter what, but a little confidence boost wouldn’t hurt.

Especially not when you wanted to cringe at the anxiety in your gaze staring back at you in the mirror. Huffing a sigh and running your hands over your dress did little to soothe your raging nerves. It felt like being an insecure teenager all over again—Am I overdressed? Is this too much makeup? Will this still look good with a jacket? The internal monologue was never-ending and consistently annoying. All it did was eat up time that quickly ticked away as the Christmas party grew closer.

The soft patter of footsteps comes from the side before Kyle appears in your peripheral, standing in the doorway to the bathroom. You find his lack of response…odd. Unlike him. Looking over at him, you find his eyes looking at just about every part of you that wasn’t your face.

“Kyle,” you call out again, softer this time, hoping it’ll grab his attention. When he still doesn’t make eye contact, only humming in response as his gaze lingers on your chest, you relent. “Is this…okay? Do I look alright?”

That makes him look you in the eye. He stares at you for a moment before sauntering into the room. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he settles behind you, resting his head in the junction of your neck and shoulder. He holds your gaze in the mirror, soft brown eyes boring into you. 

“Are you seein’ what I’m seein’?” He gestures vaguely to the reflections.

“I think so.”

“Then you should know you look fuckin’ gorgeous,” the last half of his sentence is muffled against your neck as he dips his head to plant a kiss on your soft skin. “You could rival a damn princess lookin’ like this, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well, I don’t know about that. But thank you.”

“Well, I do.” His kisses turn heavier, wet flicks of his tongue, as his hands skirt down to your hips. “I almost don’t wanna leave now. I want my princess all to myself.”

“Kyle—”

“I know, I’m a selfish bastard aren’t I?” His teeth brush against the curve of your jaw, nipping playfully. “But I can’t help it when you look this good.”

“Going to the party was your idea,” you remind him with a playful nudge of your elbow. “I regret asking for your input. Go on, I need to finish getting ready.”

“...What else d’you need to do?”

“My hair’s a mess.” You gesture to your head like the thought is obvious. To you, it was. Though you had a tendency to nitpick your looks in time like these. 

Kyle studies your reflection for a moment, an incredulous look on his face like he can’t figure out what else you could possibly do to your hair. “That’s fine,” he shrugs. “You can do your hair.”

But he doesn’t slip away like you’d intended him to do. Instead, he keeps his hands planted firmly on you, running them up and down your sides, trailing over your curves like he hasn’t touched them countless times before. You stand and wait for him to move away, but it never happens.

“Kyle.”

“Mm?”

“Are you gonna let me finish getting ready?”

“I am letting you finish.” He says it so matter-of-factly. “Go on and do your hair. I can keep my hands down here,” he emphasizes by groping a handful of your ass, “and stay out of your way.”

You didn’t believe that for one damn minute. Staying out of your way wasn’t possible when he got his hands on you. What would start out as innocent touches and “no, baby, we don’t have to fuck, just let me feel you up,” would turn into desperate sex in the blink of an eye. You weren’t very good at keeping yourself from getting distracted, and he was perfect at grabbing your attention. 

…So maybe that’s why you didn’t question it when hands on your hips turned to one dipped beneath your dress. And why kisses on your neck turned to filthy words in your ear. You had barely done anything to your hair before he got you distracted. 

“Ky’...” You whined while trying to keep yourself stood straight. “I need to finish up.”

His fingers ran over your slit, spreading you open as they glided through the slick arousal clinging to your skin. Your clit was already swollen and puffy from where he’d been teasing you while you tried to focus. His fingertips circle your entrance and you nearly feel your knees buckle underneath your.

“‘M not stoppin’ you, love.” He mutters against your temple before kissing the sweat on your brow. 

“Yes you are…fuck, you’re teasin’ me like a bastard…”

“Not my fault you can’t focus.”

Your retort is interrupted by a shameless moan as his fingers slide inside you, embarrassingly easy thanks to how wet you were. You have to lean over the countertop to hold yourself up as your knees go weak. How the hell he didn’t find himself distracting was beyond you; burying his fingers to the knuckle inside you didn’t exactly help you get ready any quicker. 

Looking in the mirror before you, you found Kyle practically studying your face. He watched the way your lips fell open and your eyes fluttered when he pushed deep. It’s almost like he was testing what reactions he could get out of you. Curling and twisting and pressing his fingers, he wanted to see you squirm.

He settles his chin on your shoulder, smiling when you lean your head against his. “Look at you, there’s my pretty girl,” the smooth softness of his voice makes your cunt flutter around his digits. 

His lips hit your cheek in a soft peck, the complete opposite of the intensity in his eyes. You felt like he wanted to devour you, lil you’d never leave this bathroom again if he could have things his way. A Christmas party was the last thing on your mind despite still being dressed up for it. The more he touched you, the insistent pressure against that sweet spot deep in your cunt, the more you wanted to stay home with him. 

“Fuck, you’re annoying, you know that?” You huff between moans. There’s no real bite to it, and he knows that—the tight hug of your slick walls around his fingers proved that plenty true. 

Kyle chuckles in your ear. “Ah, you love it.” You did, but you’d never admit it. Especially not when you were trying to prove a point about wasting time. “Love it when I give my princess what she needs, huh?”

His fingers curl just right, focusing in on that spot that made you jerk on every thrust. Your mouth falls open in a gasp, knuckles white as you grip the edge of the counter to keep yourself steady. If it wasn’t for his hand supporting you, you might’ve stumbled on your weak legs. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, blown-out pupils staring back at you, painted lips stuck under teeth as you bite your lip.

“Yeah, look at yourself, baby.” His encouragement is enough to convince you despite how awkward it feels at first. “Look how pretty you are when you cum for me.” 

You can feel his eyes on you, see him in your peripheral, his gaze branding you like an iron as he worked you over the edge. It was strange watching your mouth drop as a sharp moan poured from your throat, seeing your body quiver as you jerked into his hand. You couldn’t keep your eyes open long enough to watch your entire orgasm hit you, too overwhelmed by the constant fullness that sent sparks through your body. 

Thankfully, Kyle seemed more concerned with making your pleasure last instead of policing where your eyes were. He battered that soft, sensitive spot, groaning in your ear when you soaked his hand in your cum. He kept himself pressed close, an arm wrapped around you to support your weight in case you needed it. 

An almost smothering amount of kisses covered the side of your face, trailing from your temple to the curve of your neck. It was almost like he wanted to keep you distracted with the sensation as he slid his fingers out of you. A soft pat to your thigh and he’s pulling your dress back into place like nothing happened. You stare at your reflection for a moment, noticing the slight smudges of makeup where his lips brushed over your skin and the small red marks he left spackled along your neck.

“C’mon,” he sighs with one last kiss to your cheek. “We better get goin’. Don’t wanna keep anyone waiting, yeah?” He slinks out of the bathroom before you can catch your breath and respond. So much for looking nice.

[meeinthesea]

fragmented harmony— sunday

outline— sunday has always hated you. your existence was an eyesore for him — a constant reminder of everything that he believed was different —wrong. yet he can't shake you from his mind. it was only a matter of fact before you would hit the same fate as the charmony dove that once landed in his garden ages ago. so he does what he has to.

contains— yandere (?) sunday x reader, kinda ooc sunday, childhood friends, sunday is going through a lot, somewhat follows canon. heavy themes, mentions of blood and death.

wc— 2.1k

a/n— this prompt was suggested by my friend, and i had so much fun jotting down ideas for this! i hope y'all like it too, as much as i loved writing it. banner made by me, yay! i like this so so much he's so divine, oof..... so pretty. i'd worship him if i could.

it's been hours since sunday came back from the confession booth. usually, this part of his day is nothing of importance to him, the sinful confessions mixing and twisting in his mind before disappearing altogether.

this is normal to him. so he doesn't know why he feels so much on edge.

why does that particular question stick with him?

“how do i cherish what i love without losing myself?”

maybe it was because he was too stunned to say anything that the person on the other side of the booth had to be escorted back without any answer. but how could he give guidance on something he didn't have the answer to?

he blinks rapidly as the familiar walls of his room become clearer. he walks to the mirror and stands idly. naked without a layer to hide anything. his amber eyes trace each and every feature reflected on the polished surface.

sunday shakes his head, arms clenching on the sides of the frame. he won't allow himself to stray any further from the destiny — his truth. not when he is this close to achieving the paradise he's always dreamed of.

he is still here. all in one piece.

it's still him, right?

he hasn't lost himself, right?

the longer he stares into the mirror, the faster his mind spirals as it makes way for something he has never anticipated. the image transforms into something — someone that makes his heart clench.

you stand there, eyes twinkling with mirth, arms crossed behind your back as you whisper what he thinks is his name. so softly that he barely hears it.

but it vanishes all too soon.

the happy image is replaced by something so grotesque that he feels bile climbing up his throat. all he can see is pure — bright red as blood trickles down the sides of the mirror, and your once unscathed body now lies in a pile of your own blood. your eyes are pale, devoid of anything as they stare back at him. lifeless — soulless.

and then his eyes snap open.

the haunting imagery from before is gone.

all that remains is his sweaty, heaving body and bloodshot eyes staring back at him.

he staggers towards the window, a much-needed break for his palpitating heart. his weary eyes take in the tranquil scenery of the sleeping city.

maybe he's already lost himself.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

the next time sunday sees you waltzing towards him, he feels the familiar annoyance bubbling up in his chest. you look so free, happily chirping as you come closer to him, the ever carefree air drifts from you.

“what is it now?” he huffs and closes his arms around his chest. turning away from you.

“aww c'mon i haven't even said anything,” you twirl around him, your hair hitting his eyes before you come face to face with him, “how have you been?”

for a moment, all he does is stare at your blissful expression, and for a moment, he feels himself slipping back into the past — something warm and airy, bright spots dancing in his mind. it's vague, the lines are incomplete, and it is impossible to interpret anything.

something that he abandoned a long time ago.

“fine…” he grunts a reply and pays no attention to how unusually warm his cheeks are beginning to feel.

“just fine?” he hears you hum and brush past him — the brief contact has his mind reeling for a split-second — to analyze the soda bottles stacked on a glass rack, “and here i thought you would be excited about the charmony festival.”

“i do not have time for your musings,” he declares, and prepares to leave.

he hears you yelling at him but continues walking before a hand grips onto his gloved one, and he is pulled towards you. back to you.

“would you come with me to watch robin practice?”

every cell in his brain is screaming at him to decline your offer. he has no time for whatever shenanigans you were inviting him in.

though, how can he?

not when your eyes look so sincere, when your hand feels so light against him. a sweet taste pools in his mouth, and he has no choice but to sigh as he watches you jump up and down, laughing in delight.

he joins in with small chuckles, hidden behind his palm.

in his eyes, you were the very embodiment of the harmony that even the xipe falls short in front of you.

and that's why your ultimate fate lies in his hands.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

red. red. red.

it's all he sees as he staggers through the hallway. it's eerily silent in the dewlight pavilion, save for his heavy pants.

the meeting from before replays like a broken record in his mind.

robin.

robin is all sunday can think of.

no matter the number of investigations he has going on, he just can't get to the truth of it. how can she just vanish into thin air?

he remembers visiting the reverie hotel. comatose is how she was. he feels himself gag, as the picture of her pale body floating in the dream pool appears once again.

a spiritual death.

that's what sunday has concluded.

there's no traces left of her soul in the dreamscape.

it was as if she just vanished from the face of penacony, leaving behind a hollow shell of a body.

how could he ever let that happen to her?

it's a mess. the hallways, the statues, everything seem to blend in with one another, the faintest of red bleeding in through the corners. however, uplifting the bright colours may be, they do nothing to soothe the banging ache in his chest.

she's gone. robin's gone.

and soon you will be too.

sunday falls to the ground, rough carpet grazing against his skin. he holds his face in his hands.

he feels the need to shout, scream, anything, yet no sound comes out of him.

what was he supposed to do now?

through the mirage of madness, a solace whispers to him. the bells ring of his arrival. a striking white dove fly in front of him. silk brushes against his face as sunday looks towards the sound.

with each pounding of his heart, purple seeps into its white feathers. it was his master.

“my child,” the crow advances towards him, and sunday can make out the tremor behind gopher's voice, “the time has come.”

its presence is a warning about what is coming, a reminder that he’s running out of time.

he clenches his hands, lips trembling. he has no choice but to nod his head.

the crow is gone. robin is gone.

the sweet dream is falling apart. right before his very eyes.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

sunday dashes through the halls of the dewlight pavilion. the bright lights overhead are like thousands of needles piercing through his already pounding head. the shadows seem to chase him with every step he took.

“where is—” he coughs a little, all shaken up.

his head hits the front desk, wood splintering with the force. the organized items fall due to shock, cluttering around his feet.

“sire,” one of the assistants rushes towards him, “are you okay?” he holds onto him, pulling him towards a chair.

the receptionist looks at him confused, “who is where, sir?”

he takes a few heavy breaths before muttering your name. the assistant immediately focuses on the device and, without any questions, tells him your location.

everyone in the vicinity stares at his departing figure, curious as to what has caused such a sudden change on the oak's family head.

the trip to the winery is a short one. sunday is pleased to find the most of it empty at this time, since it will be easier for him.

the sweet and tangy smell lingers in the air, almost palatable. several clusters of gold dances around him as he makes his way deeper into the winery.

he follows the stony path and immediately spots your silhouette sitting on one of the silver railings. you look awfully calm, despite your best friend being missing and possibly considered dead.

he knows you've already sensed him as you jump a little but continue to look at the purple tinted sky.

“it was you, wasn't it?” sunday starts, but he doesn't know what else he can say to intimidate you.

“wha—” your voice is timid as you jump from the railing and stand directly in front of him, “where is this coming from?” you cross your arms around you, sinking into your coat.

“how much longer are you willing to go?” his own comes out rather sternly than he wanted, but he’s not complaining when he sees a sudden shift in your demeanour.

“what are you talking about?” you are trembling now, eyes getting all watery.

“enough!” you gulp, and he sees your hands shaking uncontrollably.

“sunday what are you—”

before you can say anything, sunday puts up his hand, and his eyes narrow down onto your face.

you feel yourself frozen in place — time as if someone has put a spell on you, thrones encasing you, trapping you forever.

slowly and surely, you feel the presence of what you assume is the harmony or rather the order — the absolute. it's all rainbows and the flashing lights in the beginning.

but the vivid imagery loses all colour. lines, and shapes form in your vision, a distinct eye stares back at you, “i had no choice. you left me with no choice.”

even before you can open your mouth, a ringing noise pierces your ear, and you black out, losing awareness of everyone and everything.

your body falls to the ground with a loud thump. unmovable — unresponsive. just like the world. there's nothing around the two of you. the fireflies have departed, and the pleasant aroma has become astringent.

and with that he’s breached the harmony.

he couldn’t bear killing you? how can he?

this was the only choice.

sunday kneels beside you and takes your limp body in his hold. “i did this for us.”

through the harmony, he will obtain the order.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

what follows after is a blur to sunday.

but he’s certain of one thing, and that the dream will soon take shape into reality.

sunday has no problem accessing your hotel room. all he needed was to flash a charming smile at the receptionist. the request doesn't take long, and soon, he is thanking the person with a key card dangling in his hand.

your door is locked, just like he expected. but it's not a concern to him. he presses the key card against the sensor, and immediately, the door beeps on cue. as soon as he slides in, he's greeted with your comatose body floating in the dream pool.

he locks the door behind him and takes out a pocket knife, striding towards the pool.

“you don’t need to be afraid,”

he cradles your face in his hand and traces the blade against your jaw, “i'll make this quick, okay, darling?”

the blade presses into your cheeks, drawing a blob of blood. pure red catches his eyes. it's familiar. he observes how the drop trails down your face and catches it, wet tongue sweeping over your skin.

“you are weak, always have been.”

sunday can't contain himself as the metallic and pungent taste coats his tongue.

“but you shall be free now.”

one slice is all he needs.

blood starts sputtering from your chest, turning the once clear teal water into a mess of red and brown. he jumps out of the pool, leaving your body to collapse once again. he wipes the blade with his handkerchief while watching your form disappear under the bloody water.

through harmony, order is obtained.

sunday nonchalantly walks out of your room and trudges down the staircase, back to the receptionist. he calmly reports your death, or rather your murder.

no one suspects a thing.

no one has the right to do so anyway.

no one looks for you.

no one questions for you.

you had no family — anyone besides the two siblings.

and in sunday's favour, the news of your death is quickly buried as a chess piece of the “death” game that has caused chaos upon penacony.

but you don’t have to worry.

“relax it’s me,” you can hear his voice — a familiar softness, just like how it was in days gone by — but he’s nowhere to be seen.

someone caresses your cheek, and you open your eyes, but it's all black.

where are you?

“i am right here, my love.” you feel a soft kiss against your mouth.

it feels so good. this feeling, everything is at present. there is no past, no future.

no hatred, no regret.

only love exists. compassion flows in every nook and canny.

the gentle waves lull you towards him.

he's all you can feel, hear.

“you are safe here,” his breath is faint, a soft murmur, “rest now.”

[dreamit2seeit]

○•°LOA success°•○

Just a bit of a motivation to put out there I guess?

I know many of you guys struggle with completely accepting the law. I've been there too, and I tend to "fall back" into negativity from time to time still. But every time I do, I always have to realise that it's all up to me, it's all up to what I believe in, and what kind of thoughts and believes I feed into myself.

So let this serve as a healthy reminder that you're in fact capable, that once you decide something to be true, it's true, and that's it. That's IT!!!

Overnight changes? Very demure. It's tea. And it's so simple, fast and real that you don't even realise it happened until it gets brought up in some way.

Yesterday I was organising my vision boards on Pinterest - adding new pictures, deleting some that I don't associate myself with anymore. Then I saw this picture of a public figure who I really admire recently, and I added it to my "Looks" folder. I just realised how pretty and inspiring I find her, and how she kind of looks like my ideal appearence in many ways. I don't know, let's call her Sharon. I searched and scrolled a bit more, finding more pictures of Sharon that I like, and added those pictures to the folder too.

And that's when the magic begins, it's very simple, really.

I was basically just looking at the pictures, telling myself how I look exactly like her, how she's basically me, we're twinning, etc etc...

I also did this very cutesy thing that works for me all the time, visualizing people I know telling me the same things.

And let me repeat: when you decide something to be real and true, it's REAL. AND. TRUE. I'm very lucky when it comes visualization, I can easily change my inner image of me or anything, and from that point on, I see it and think it like that, ignoring the 3D.

Literally that's all I did.

I wasn't even thinking about it today, I just thought to myself once in front of the mirror while throwing on some makeup how I look like Sharon. The 3D? I honestly don't know how it showed or how it shows now, because even if I see it, I only perceive the 4D, the true reality, that's what I feed to my mind.

A few hours later I was hanging out with friends in this cute little café, talking about everything. Again, I was not thinking about this "change" I decided to have the day before. It was there maybe in the back of my mind, showing up in the form of how I carry myself, but there were zero thoughts about it.

Then Chat GPT and it's features were brought up (exciting I know), and the TikTok trends with it, like the special bots that help with looksmaxing, finding your celebrity lookalike, etc etc...We were analysing one of my friend's features, how she looks kind of like this actress and that actress, then she looks at me dead in the eyes and says:

"Do you know who you look like? Like Sharon. I've been thinking about it"

Like... I was kind of speechless for a few seconds. She was one of the people I imagined saying this thing to me the day before. On the outside I was nonchalant about it, but I actually got really excited and happy. Then she confused my nonchalantness with denial, and kept trying to convince me about it. XDD She even involved our other friend who was also agreeing with her, and they went on with this casual discussion about how my features and the way I smile gives complete Sharon... I could ramble more about it, but you get what I'm trying to say here.

It's simple. It's simple and great and wow.

And once you touch into it you realise that it's very real, even if you had doubts before.

Well I hope this helped or motivated a few of you out there, at least that was my point with it.

If I can do it, there is literally no reason why you couldn't. You got this!! It was not complicated, not hard, not something out of my reach. You can get whatever you imagine.

Have a wonderful day, and don't forget to enjoy the journey!

You're capable, you're amazing, you're everything and more! <33

[warmsol]

i love taking my time. i love working slowly. i love creating things at my own pace

[xxplastic-cubexx]

I hope everyone whos walked behind me today has acknowledged the fact ive just been staring at rivals magneto for the past hour

[seraphic-sibyl]

I should have been born a frog. I should have been born a frog. I should have been born a frog. I should have been born a frog. I should have been born a frog. I should have been born a frog. I should have been

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

this is my little girl 💖

she’s running low on time with us, and my dad has been saying things along the lines of ‘this is why I don’t like pets’, because he finds the grieving process so hard.

I don’t fault him for that, he just feels loss deeply and deals with it differently.

sometimes I even find myself falling briefly into the same thinking. ‘what if making a different choice all those years ago saved me and my family from this grief and this pain?’

but I also know there’s no way I would make a different decision. no amount of grief could outweigh the joy she’s brought us over these last fifteen years. the laughter, the comfort, the connection.

I think about hikes with my dad when she was tiny and able bodied and would race up ahead of us on the trails and then race back to check on us. I think about the first time she saw snow and she instantly turned into a tiny fluffy bunny rabbit, hopping through drifts that were ankle deep for us but nearly buried her, and the matted snowballs she came away with, looking like a tiny curly haired yeti.

I think of her interrupting GrammE and John’s wedding along with Sagie, confusion turning into laughter as they sped after each other across the backyard ceremony. I think of my mom, lonely on the island and isolated during covid, telling me that Ginger was her saving grace.

and these don’t even scratch the surface. fifteen years of love she’s given us.

so yeah. losing her is going to damn near break me and I know that. but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

they call me the griever because halfway through a thing I enjoy I’m already sad that it’s closer to being over

[phagodyke]

dating an art student was so crazy I'm just thinking abt that one birthday I had where my ex got me stickers from the etsy of the person they were cheating on me with....

[spacespore]

HI TUMBLRR it’s me

[anotherpapercut]

working with children really will make you examine your thought processes and emotional reactions like nothing else. I've found myself being so much more thoughtful in my daily life about how I respond to my emotions and environment, as well as the reasoning behind why others behave the way they do

[p2ii]

.

[teafiend]