#totally no making this to distract from intense anxiety

[bbyboykit]

🎧KitTy Aesthetic🎧

💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙

💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙

[meazalykov]

wrong number

bayern munich frauen x reader

1/6, 2/6, 3/6, 4/6, 5/6, 6/6

"who are you, and why do you have my number?"

you've been preparing for this move for what feels like forever.

the idea of leaving your small hometown in virginia to live in munich is both exciting and terrifying. you’ve spent weeks packing your things, saying goodbyes, and trying to mentally prepare yourself for the massive change that’s about to happen. 

sure, you’ve dreamed about studying abroad for a long time. now that it’s here, the reality of it feels overwhelming.

you’re going to be thousands of miles away from home, from everything you’ve ever known. your family is supportive, and your friends have been hyping you up nonstop. yasmeen, your closest friend, has been particularly great about helping you stay grounded, always there to distract you from the “what ifs” when the anxiety gets a little too intense. 

today is one of those days.

the two of you had planned a mall trip—something normal and fun before the whirlwind of final packing and travel arrangements takes over. well, yasmeen says that you need a new closet for munich and you don’t disagree.

it feels good to be doing something so ordinary, especially when you know that soon enough, everything in your life is about to be not-so-ordinary. 

you’ve been to this mall a hundred times with yasmeen, today feels a little more special though. maybe it’s because you’re hyperaware that you won’t have moments like these once you’re in germany.

will you make friends in germany? what if germany turns out horribly? are the people nice? is there xenophobia you might experience due to yourself being american? these thoughts plagued the back of your mind. 

"you’re gonna miss me so much, you know that, right?" yasmeen teases as the two of you walk through the mall’s food court, eyeing the chick-fil-a counter but opting for chipotle instead.

you roll your eyes playfully, nudging her with your elbow with the arm that's carrying your aritzia bag. 

"i’ll miss your constant harassment, that’s for sure."

"constant harassment? i’m literally the best thing that ever happened to you!"

"okay, sure," you laugh. 

honestly, yasmeen has been a huge part of your life for the past few years. she was the first person you clicked with back in high school, and now it feels weird to think about going through the next few years without her by your side. 

you’re trying not to dwell on it, though. you’ll still have facetime, you tell yourself. 

after grabbing and eating your rice bowls, you both head toward the stores. it’s one of those days where everything feels easy—there’s no pressure to buy anything. you did though obviously.

at one point, yasmeen holds up a bright red kit with a smirk.

"ouu a bayern munich kittt. you should totally buy it, you will fit in with the munich community."

you tilt your head, laughing. 

"what is that? i don’t even watch soccer."

"woah! you better once you hit germany– i heard soccer to them is like how the nfl is to americans."

you shake your head but decide to try it on anyway. yasmeen snaps a photo and tells you that you look like you’re about to cheer for some random german soccer team. 

you don’t think much of it and put the jersey back, moving on to the next store.

as the day goes on, you feel a strange mix of contentment and anticipation. it’s nice being here, with your best friend, doing normal things, but there’s a part of you that’s itching to start this next chapter of your life. 

it’s like you’re stuck in this weird limbo between your old life and the new one that’s waiting for you on the other side of the world.

eventually, after several hours of shopping, you realize your phone had died. you don’t even remember when it happened. 

you’ve been so caught up in the moment with yasmeen that you didn’t notice the battery draining.

"ugh, my phone’s dead," you say, glancing at the blank screen.

yasmeen shrugs. 

"mine’s still good. if anything, i can call you an uber."

"nah, i’m good. i’ll just charge it when i get home."

you both grab shoes at birkenstock before say your goodbyes outside the mall. yasmeen gives you an extra tight hug. 

"don’t get caught up with your european friends and forgetting about me, okay?"

"never," you promise.

when you get home, you immediately plug your phone into the charger and head straight to the shower. 

the hot water feels good against your skin, washing away the stress of the day. you’ve got so much on your mind—packing, travel plans, what your life is going to look like in a few weeks—but right now, standing under the stream of water, you feel calm. 

you let your thoughts drift away and focus on the simple rhythm of the water hitting your shoulders.

when you finally get out of the shower, you feel refreshed, like maybe you can tackle all the things on your to-do list without getting overwhelmed.

when you grab your phone and take it off of your charger, you notice something strange. 

it’s blowing up with notifications. you squint at the screen, trying to make sense of what’s happening. 

there’s a new group chat, and it’s filled with numbers you don’t recognize.

confused, you open the messages. the chat is already deep into a conversation about something, but none of it makes sense to you.

+49 176 1234567: pernille you’re AMAZING wtf was that!!!!????? 

+49 171 7654321: arsenals defense during this match had nothing on you or syd holy shit

your brows furrow. arsenal? match? what are they talking about? you know absolutely nothing about this conversation. 

hell, you’re not even sure what country arsenal plays for. the confusion only grows as you scroll up to see more of the conversation.

you: hi?

almost immediately, your message is met with a flood of responses.

+49 171 7654321: giulia! finally! where have you been?

+49 178 1233567: we’ve been trying to reach all day, i know we had no training but are you okay?

your heart skips a beat. giulia? who the hell is giulia? you’ve definitely never gone by that name.

you: uh, i think you’ve got the wrong number. i’m not giulia.

for a moment, the chat goes silent. you stare at your phone, wondering if you should just leave the group.

before you can, a new message pops up.

+49 176 1234567: wait, what?

+49 171 7654321: did we add the wrong number again?

+49 171 11122222: sydney, you’re an idiot. you added the wrong number!

there’s a pause before a new number is added to the group.

+49 152 3334444: you guys finally added me.

you assume this is the real giulia. still, no one seems to be kicking you out of the chat, and before you know it, the conversation picks up again.

+49 176 1234567: giulia, you missed our whole debate about the arsenal match.

+49 171 7654321: yeah, and we were saying bayern needs to keep it up for juventus.

you stare at your phone, more confused than ever. arsenal, bayern… these are clearly soccer teams, but why are they talking to you? you don’t even watch soccer. eventually, you decide to chime in.

you: um?? i have no idea what any of you are talking about. 

this time, the chat explodes with messages.

+49 171 7654321: what?!

+49 176 1234567: how do you not know bayern munich?

+49 175 7778888: do you watch fusball? 

+49 171 1112222: okay, who are you?

+44 177 9900000: ok guys that makes me feel better about this not being a crazy fan.

+49 170 4479173: i agree with georgia 

you explain your situation—that you’re a 21-year-old college student from virginia, and you somehow got added to this group chat by mistake. 

you tell them about your upcoming move to munich for your study abroad program, hoping to clear up the confusion.

+49 152 3334444: wait… you’re moving to munich? like… munich, germany?

+49 171 7654321: that’s insane omg we all live in munich.

+44 171 9900000: wtffff 

+49 176 1234567: this is such a weird coincidence.

you blink at your screen. this is getting stranger by the second. what are the odds that you’d get added to a random group chat full of people who live in the exact city you’re about to move to?

+49 171 1112222: okay, but how do we know you’re not some creepy dude pretending to be a girl?

+49 172 4567389: LMAO LENA 

+57 170 9193831: wait… 

you roll your eyes at the suspicion but understand why they might be cautious. so, you send them your instagram handle to prove you’re real. 

you: ew, i am not some old dude. @ y/n.l/n is my insta, just me out for yourselves.

after a few minutes, messages start pouring in again.

+49 152 3334444: yep, she’s legit.

+49 176 1234567: okay, cool. she seems sweet.

+49 171 9718193: guys laura would love her photography skills

you: who’s laura

+49 171 9900000: someone from the german national team. she plays in frankfurt

+44 177 9900000: this is so cool idky why.. usually i’d be freaked out

a few new followers pop up on your instagram notifications, and you open the app to check. you almost drop your phone when you see that some of the accounts following you are verified. 

*sydneylohmann is now following you*

and another 

*georgiastanway is now following you* 

*tuvahansen is now following you* 

and more.. 

*leaschuller is now following you* 

*lenaoberdorf is now following you* 

*kathi.ng is now following you* 

*pharder10 is now following you*

*guzman013_ is now following you* 

*sarahzadrazil25 is now following you* 

now it seems like the whole team is catching on.. 

*buehlklara is now following you* 

*magdalenaeriksson26 is now following you* 

*magou_doucoure is now following you* 

*dahmannlinda is now following you* 

it's until you do a quick google search that you realize who they are.

they’re professional soccer players.

you sit there, staring at your phone, completely in shock. you’ve somehow stumbled into a group chat full of actual women’s soccer players. 

trying to play it cool, you decide to treat them like normal people.

after all, you don’t even know anything about soccer, so it’s not like you’re going to fan out over them.

you: so, what are your names? i want to save your numbers because all of the unsaved numbers are overwhelming haha 

they go around introducing themselves, and you quickly type their names into your phone, saving each number under the name they give you.

+49 152 3334444: i’m giulia

+49 171 7654321: sydney

+44 177 9900000: georgia s 

+49 179 7777777: lea 

+57 170 9193831: ana g. there’s two ana’s so i’d add the last name letter to tell the difference 💜

it’s surreal, somehow you find yourself chatting with them like they’re any other group of girls you’d meet in a random group chat. 

they even start to warm up to you after a few days, especially after you tell them more about your move to munich. 

a few of them offer to show you around the city once you get there.

georgia: honestly, munich’s great. you’re going to love it.

sydney: we can help you find all the best spots.

lena: i can definitely ☺️

lea: lena you just moved here from wolfsburg.. 

lena: lea shushhhh 🙄

pernille: ??? 

you smile at your phone, feeling a little less nervous about the move. it’s strange, but you’re actually starting to look forward to meeting these girls in person. 

sure, they’re professional soccer players, but they’re also just… normal people. and they seem to like you.

as the chat continues, you get the sense that they trust you. maybe it’s because of your instagram or the way you’ve been honest with them from the start, but whatever it is, they don’t seem to mind that you accidentally got added to their group. 

in fact, they seem to enjoy having you around.

klara: you seem chill. i know its been a week since you’ve been added but do you promise to keep our secrets safe? 

lena: ^

you: i promise. i like you guys! 

it’s not every day you accidentally make friends with a group of famous athletes, but somehow, that’s exactly what’s happened. 

as strange as it is, you’re kind of excited about it.

part two here

[vickyvicarious]

I find the detail that Jonathan was going to spend the night away from home but then sent a telegram that he'll take the 4hr commute back to be home with her tonight pretty interesting. Did he change his mind? We never see his telegram, but Mina seems to suggest he gave as reason that she'd not be alone at night?

I was thinking recently about what day it might be when considering the timeline for Arthur's note to Jack after the funeral for his WRWD. To sum up, it looks like the 25th is probably a Monday. The other option was that it's Sunday, which seems less likely but does make him wanting to get home sooner if he could more likely. I guess in a way that's not very relevant to the specifics of your question. I was just reminded...

Anyways. Your suggestion that Jonathan came home for the (stated) purpose of ensuring Mina didn't have to spend the night alone is interesting, and I see where it comes from:

And yet, if it be true, what terrible things there are in the world, and what an awful thing if that man, that monster, be really in London! I fear to think. I have this moment, whilst writing, had a wire from Jonathan, saying that he leaves by the 6:25 to-night from Launceston and will be here at 10:18, so that I shall have no fear to-night.

If that last phrase is continuing the description of what Jonathan's message said, then yes, that does seem to be his stated reasoning. However, I've always personally read that as a modifier/response to her own earlier line about "I fear to think" - basically, I've assumed Jonathan just said he would make it home, and it was Mina who added that now she won't have to worry about him tonight. Of course, some of that was based on my assumption that Launceston is in London and so she was worried about his proximity to Dracula. But Launceston, I've just learned, is actually in the opposite direction, further west than Exeter. So... perhaps that's not what's going on. Maybe I've been wrong and your interpretation is correct.

Regardless of whether Jonathan said it or Mina did, I think the fear referred to here is her worry about him. He did just have a total collapse a few short days ago (3, to be precise). And that happened while traveling. Not to mention, the last time he went on a business trip away from her for more than a day, he went missing for months and turned up horribly traumatized. So even if she 'knows' it's just an overnight trip and he will be fine, she could be feeling understandable anxiety about this. All the more so after losing Mr. Hawkins and Lucy.

However, equally relevant is Jonathan's own feelings on the matter. I think whatever worry Mina might be feeling about his business trip will be just as intense for him as well, if not even more so. He was obviously trying to dive into his work to both distract himself and live up to the responsibilities he now has as Mr. Hawkins' heir. He may well have agreed to or arranged this trip in an attempt to prove he's fine/make himself fine/fulfill others' expectations. And then perhaps in the train there, he began to regret his choices...

He didn't send Mina his message until around 6:30pm, just about the time he was catching the train home. That's after the close of business for most offices nowadays, at least. Probably back then as well. I think it's quite possible that Jonathan either worked as hard as he could to finish everything early (regretting his choice very soon after leaving) and only told her once he was sure it was all done so he could go home, or was already going to have finished things but originally didn't want the long trip back at night. But he changed his mind at the last minute and told Mina as soon as he did, so that he could get back to her side and not have to spend a night alone away from here.

I definitely think both he and she would hesitate to be apart at night, at least at first. All the more given his night terrors, and a 'business trip' would be worse than some other reason, given the history there. If the need arises I'm sure they could/would, but if Jonathan realized he didn't have to, he'd try not to.

I'd be remiss not to also mention another theory I saw a while ago. I don't have the specific post but I believe there was speculation that Jonathan realized Mina had opened his diary before she told him, and some of his throwing himself into work was him deliberately giving her space to read it. It also might have been him trying to avoid any reaction she might have, in case that dredged up things he didn't want to face. If so, him turning back around and heading home would indicate a willingness to face the truth, or at least see how she looks at him now. I don't tend to buy this one myself because she read the diary a couple days earlier, and so the timing doesn't quite match up for that to be related to his trip.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey do you think ya can explain Barnaby and his illusion smoke a bit? It seems really cool and I don't remember if ya talked about it in depth before

sure! this got a bit longer than i expected!

so i was thinking that Barnaby seems like more of a hands-off kinda guy when it comes to altercations. would rather sit back and make funny commentary! so if he Had to get involved, i imagine it would be from a distance and still in an Entertaining Way!

thus - illusion magic! for this au i've been picturing that he got his paws on some illusionary herb in his early teens. for making people laugh, you know! and help out with the farm - illusions could distract animals, convince them to move on to different pastures, calm the chickens for egg-collecting, etc!

Ms. Beagle didn't really approve, since smoking is harmful, but lucky for the both of them this particular plant doesn't deal as much damage when smoked as normal smoking materials would - like tobacco! something to do with the magic properties! so Barnaby mostly used it for chores (when his mama wasn't paying attention, ofc - it's still a bad habit in her eyes) and entertainment purposes.

how it works: on its own, it doesn't do much when burned. it's not like illusions will waft out of the pipe's bowl, or that sniffing it will give someone hallucinations. in order for it to work properly, the user has to inhale properly, form the Intent of what the illusion should be / look like / behave, then purposefully blow the smoke out with that thought firmly in mind. the reach of the smoke depends on the force of Intent, and the intensity depends on the amount inhaled. those that breathe it in / are surrounded by it will see hallucinations of whatever Barnaby - or whoever the user is - wants them to! it can be literally anything! whether or not the target is fooled depends entirely on the individual, but the herb is potent enough that most are convinced that what they "see" is real (auditory hallucinations only occur if the target breathes in the smoke)

upsides: this form of magic is great for distractions, cover, deescalation, and that kind of thing. if needed, Barnaby could stop a fight with one exhale! it's a pretty powerful trick! it also means that Barnaby has built up a tolerance to illusion magic over the years, so where most of the party would be tricked, Barnaby would be unfazed. the only one with total immunity to the form of magic is Wally!

downsides: if Barnaby uses too much in too short of a time, it will get to him. and since he breathes in the largest amount - undiluted at that - it can fuck him up! using it sparingly / using repeated small amounts doesn't do anything. the most it will do is make him feel slightly untethered, but he has an easy time ignoring it / shaking it off.

in mild cases of the magic getting to him, it's like a bad trip. his proprioception is messed with (basically he gets uncharacteristically clumsy & off-balance), he feels like he's falling, anxiety spikes, and his vision is just... off! there are blind spots (im talking actual blind spots, not spots of black), things are moving in ways that they shouldn't, he has mild auditory hallucinations. the others can help ground him by talking to him, touching him, and confirming what's real and what isn't.

in bad cases, it's like that but 10 times worse. on top of all of the previous symptoms being worsened, he gets extremely vivid hallucinations, and they're very often not fun! it's a simultaneous feeling of dying, going insane, and not knowing what the fuck is going on. Barnaby loses sense of where he is, who's where, what's happening. he can get lost in the hallucinations - he has no way to know that they aren't real. in these terrible trips, no one can really help him. they can't get through the hallucinations, and if they do, the magic morphs Barnaby's perception of them and they end up adding to the effects. honestly the best thing for him is to let him rest somewhere with as little sensory input as possible & leave him be until he starts to come down. physical contact does help, since Barnaby understands on an instinctive level that illusions can't touch him, but it doesn't help half as much as it does w/ the mild trips. and again, the presence of someone can make the hallucinations worse.

so! suffice to say! he doesn't like using the herb all that often, and it's why he Stays Out Of It unless absolutely needed. he has two pouches of the herb - one with the strong stuff, reserved for emergencies / one with just a tiny bit of it mixed in with Barnaby's own personal blend for recreational/everyday use. (he also has an emergency tobacco stash in his pack, but that's only for when he's completely out of his usual blend <3)

extra lil scribble that didn't make it into the lil doodle post... i broke his wrist...

[lambilegs]

Adding to that anon about Lee comforting an anxious r: for some reason, I've been having an image in my head for quite a time when I, personally, was feeling restless.

Lee holding you tightly from behind, with her forearms clutching under your chest so she wouldn't press too tight on your respiratory organs—though, also, to feel your breathing and heartbeat—fingers displayed on either side of your ribs, unconsciously counting them in her head (in my head she can multitask, let it be). With your back pressed to her chest and her chin hooked on your shoulder as she nuzzles her nose behind your ear—also, where another pulse point is—or just leaning with her temple against yours. Just to make you feel like she's there, she understands, she's been there herself so many times throughout her job and life.

She would whisper, "Breathe. Breathe with me," whilst moving her chin every so slightly as she counts the beats of your heart in her head (I do it when I'm counting anything)—or, maybe, her lips would move slowly, mouthing the numbers so quietly that you would've not heard it if she weren't so close.

Once your breathing would've settled down a little bit, she'd maneuver you so you'd be sitting between her parted and bent in the knees legs—your eyes flickering to her gray slacks as a form of a distraction—and pressing her knees against yours. Fully embracing you, hoping that it somehow would help your racing heart and an uncoordinated breathing.

Or, maybe, she would tell you something about her cases (or things she did today) so your mind would concentrate on something else.

(Let's pretend her mother is still alive, okay? I can't live without Ruth)

"I visited my mom and made the soup that she likes so much—the only one that she eats, anyway—but added pork and corn as you recommended the other day; she said this version was more up to her liking. Maybe we could visit her some other day. Only if you want and have the resource for it, of course. And me, too," she would sigh.

"Did you know that our brain doesn't see 'anxiety' as a feeling, but rather like another fear response—like something is threatening your life. That's why your heart beats so quickly and you might feel like choking—imagine if you were running from dogs, for example..."

And so on, and so on.

In conclusion: Lee, I'm more than available on... *sees agenda* ... every day.

THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL OMGGGG :''')

I love how you stuck to lee's methodical ways in which she's counting your heartbeats, and trying to find a practical, repetitive and effective method to help you feel better. and apart from that too, this was so realistic, for she's such a quietly tender person and I can totally see her comforting a loved one in this way. like, combining her problem-solving brain, her personal experience with her own anxiety, and her total adoration for you, she absolutely would be this helpful and physically comforting, just trying her best to silently support you and ease the intensity of what you're going through.

AND THE RUTH MENTION AHHH. maybe it's because I'm south asian, and in our culture, it's drilled into your head to have a good relationship with your partner's parents to the best of your abilities, but I just love the idea of, like, having a relationship with ruth, even if it's just a slight bond. sure, lee has a complicated relationship and past with ruth, but I think it'd warm her heart to see you and her mom have at least some kind of friendship, even if it's just through recipe recommendations and an afternoon visit every now and then.

this entire thing was so beautifully written, tender, peaceful and romantic in a way that's uniquely lee :') thank you so much for sending it over, you totally can with any other future ideas you have. I'm honoured to receive such beautiful writings hehe

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

Ghoulette Appreciation Week 5

still behind but catching up!

Week 5: Comfort and Hobbies

Cumulus crochets to relax. When newly summoned Phantom struggles with fitting in, she extends this comfort to them with a soft little friend.

Hi yes I am unashamedly joining the Cumulus-crochet-ghoul train.

I’ve had Cumulus and Phantom being really good friends stuck in my head ever since @foxybouquet's adorable photobooth drawing of them, Lus seems like just the ghoulette to bring out the fun side of her shyer packmates, I totally see her as the goofy pack big sister!

Rating: General Content: slight hurt, much comfort Words: 1141

Cumulus's little comfort gift (context in the fic!), pattern here:

Oh and the blankets mentioned are real, they're just mostly back at my mum's house! I should ask her to send me reference pictures...

Read below or on AO3!

All the ghouls had hobbies. Some were more conventional, human sports and arts, while others were less so – Dewdrop and Ifrit claimed burning shit counted as a hobby. Cumulus was firmly in the more conventional camp: she spent her free time between rehearsals and Abbey duties crocheting. She'd made all manner of jumpers, winter hats for all her pack and, on the road between Rituals, a veritable mountain of blankets. It was a comforting activity for her, partly because it was a creative outlet that remained within her control, unlike her music, and partly because she was always cold. She had first learned from Mist and some Siblings of Sin who made plushies for the children in the Abbey nursery. She’d found the process of making little fluffy animals, monsters, and ghoul kits so relaxing, the methodical process occupying her frequently anxious hands, the repetitive counting soothing her racing mind.

Too many thoughts was something many of the ghouls suffered from, especially the newer summons. Their human forms seemed capable of both intense fixation and infinite distraction. Many new ghouls had developed anxieties over things they had never previously paid heed to. The mental pain of stuffing a strongly instinctual creature into a 21st century human body couldn't be overstated. How did humans cope with this every day of their lives? Many older ghouls chose to retire back to the pit just for some peace and quiet in their heads, the simpler life ghouls below could lead. Conversely, the often younger and more inquisitive ghouls found the topside world to be a land of endless fascination. Many a ghoul had had to be located, then dragged back long after dark from the farthest reaches of the Abbey grounds, after spending a day following every new sight and smell that caught their attention.

Phantom liked to watch bugs. That, along with their stick insect-esque mannerisms, had quickly contributed to their pack nickname. It was quite clear that the relative quiet of the Abbey grounds was their solace in the busy new world. Aurora, on the other hand, seemed quite content to roll with the new speed and intensity of everything around her, being incredibly outgoing and becoming fast friends with everyone. Despite their summonings happening so close together, the two ghouls couldn’t have had more different initial experiences topside. As Aurora continued to flourish, Phantom had become more withdrawn. This concerned Cumulus greatly, she remembered the feeling of drowning and being overwhelmed in her own thoughts, and felt protective over the lost little quint ghoul. They almost reminded her of the infants in the nursery, crying out for some comfort in a new and unfamiliar world. She could tell there was a sweet and loving ghoul buried beneath their many layers of anxieties. They were more than competent in rehearsals, but with less than a month until tour, Cumulus was worried they might get lost on stage amongst the strong performance personalities of the rest of the pack.

She knew Swiss had been trying to help, he was similarly infatuated by the new quintessence ghoul, although they appeared entirely oblivious to his affections. She continued to observe Phantom, trying to think of a way to comfort them. They seemed so childlike in some of their mannerisms, and likewise their taste in foods, that Cumulus started to wonder if they wouldn’t also benefit from a soft and cuddly friend like she and the sisters made for the children in the Abbey’s care.

But what to make for them? She couldn’t very well make a bug, despite their nickname: too many legs to be squishable. But what about a bat? They had clearly been interested in the nature documentary about them playing in the background of the den the other day. Cumulus thought back to what the older children liked best; velvety wings and a squeezable stress-ball belly? Sounds perfect. She picked out a few shades of purples, matching Phantom’s eyes, and set to work.

Cumulus had croched many things for her packmates in the past, especially blankets for her ghoulettes’ nests. From a brightly coloured affair for Sunshine, a garden of flowers for Cirrus (“I might not be an earth ghoulette but I can still grow you a bouquet”, she had said) to a pond of lilies for Mist and several more, the den was full of her brightly coloured creations. She’d tried to teach the others, with varying success. Aurora had almost immediately gotten herself in a giant tangle, somehow crocheting herself to the table leg. Cumulus quickly pivoted to instead teach her fingerknitting and how to use knitting dollies to make cords and hair ties. Sunshine had been a quick learner but ultimately preferred knitting, while Mist had been the one to teach Cumulus in the first place. As for Cirrus… Cumulus was still trying there. Each time she tried to teach her, Cirrus would end up in a tangle and feign dismay, begging Cumulus to help her out. She would guide Cirrus’s hands through the motions once more with strangely little resistance, almost as if her fingers did know what they were supposed to be doing, Cirrus exclaiming what a good teacher she was, and if she could show her just one more time. If Cumulus was a more skeptical ghoul she would almost think Cirrus was looking for an excuse to have Cumulus’s warm hands on hers for an extended period of time…

A short while later, the toy was complete. Cumulus sewed its small ears and features onto it, cooing at it's sweet little face. She caught up with Phantom as they were leaving rehearsals, waylaying them before they could slink off back to their room. If she had thought the ghoul was withdrawn before, this image was fully shattered when they threw themselves onto her in a hug that almost knocked her off her feet.

"Thank you Lussy, I love it!” they squealed into her hair.

"You're welcome, little bat!”

After this, Cumulus sensed she had gained a new shadow. Phantom had taken to following Cumulus around during rehearsal breaks, and she had tried to subtly include Phantom whenever possible so they would begin to open up more to their other packmates. It wasn't long before she caught them playing video games with Aurora, and giggling and blushing with Swiss in the den. Notably with the little plush bat by their side.

By the time they all headed out on tour, the world around Phantom had begun to slowly make more sense, and they had learned to ignore the competing voices in their head. The friendly young ghoul had come out of their shell more than Cumulus had dared dream, and she felt a small swell of pride at having even a tiny part in it, through the small stuffed bat that lived on Phantom's bunk shelf.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Hi, i want to start this by saying i absolutely love your work and you are one of the few writers i would trust to write this request. Recently i experienced whats called chemical pregnancy. A chemical pregnancy is a pregnancy that usually doesnt make it past about the first 2 months of pregnancy. I miscarried at 5 weeks, the night after i found out i was pregnant. It was an unplanned and frankly unwanted pregnancy due to multiple reasons so its a conflicting situation for me. I was wondering if you could write a fic with Bf!Bucky where reader has to tell Bucky about the situation (minus the unwanted part but still unplanned) and he comforts her and her unusual and confusing (due to the circumstances) grieving process. I would really appreciate this fic as this is something that has been really hard for me but please do not feel pressured to write this if it makes you uncomfortable. <3

Hi,

First and foremost, I am so very sorry. Regardless of the situation, this must be so incredibly difficult for you.

Thank you for trusting me with something like this, I can really only hope I do it justice or offer you the smallest amount of solace or distraction. Please let me know if you need anything or if I can pray for you or simply send you some good thoughts and love. My inbox is always open.

And if you are just apart of my usual audience, this is NOT part of the Grumpy x Sunshine series or any of my usual series, please heed the content and trigger warnings, while there is nothing graphic in this fic, there are some very heavy themes.

Proceed with caution.

CW/TW: Discussing child loss/miscarriage, pregnancy, and other related content

--

A Different Type of Grief

Grief.

Grief was familiar.

This was an entirely different type of grief.

It settles in the depths of your bones. Wrapping around your ribcage like a python. Not necessarily suffocating you, but just constricting enough that you felt the pain with every breath.

Every single breath was a reminder.

There were moments that you weren't sure what you were actually grieving.

An idea of a future that you didn't know you wanted quite yet. Of a person that you didn't know. A person you would now never get to know.

You'd known for less than a day.

Admittedly, the little pink plus sign was a surprise.

You never would've known if it weren't for the fact that you had to take a pregnancy test before changing birth control.

You highly doubt you would've known anything was wrong otherwise. Knowing that, makes it all the more painful.

That one day was filled with the most heightened emotions you'd ever known.

First, intense surprise. Followed by intense anxiety. And then, complete, total, unbridled happiness.

You suppose that it only made sense that this suffering was also intense. Unimaginable. Unfathomable.

When you found out, Bucky's return was still 48 hours away, but you were already planning on how you could tell him the second he got back.

You'd talked about the possibility of having a family before. And while this would be deviating from the plan you talked about before, it was still something you both ardently wanted.

You had so many ideas on how to tell him the joyous news.

You had not a single one for how to tell him this.

For the 24 hours that you knew, you spent it reimagining the future you thought you wanted. You dove in head first, embracing it in spite of all the reservations and reasons that you once held.

Chemical pregnancy. Those were really the only words that you heard. Just like that, your new future was gone, ripped away like it was nothing.

The last 24 hours were something that you would not wish upon your worst enemy, a suffering too terrible to name.

Your heart clenched every time you thought about it. About taking that away from him like it'd been taken from you. The idea of being parents. The excitement that would build over those nine months. It hurt.

It hurt so much you didn't know how your bones hadn't crumbled under the pressure.

"Doll, I'm back," Bucky announces. You wince when you hear his voice echo down the hall. Normally, you'd be waiting for him or you'd bound into his arms and showering him with affection the moment he opened the door. He frowns at the peculiarity, ambling into the apartment with his duffle bag in hand. "Doll?"

He finds you in the kitchen, obsessively cleaning and rearranging one of the spice cabinets. "Doll?"

You can't bring yourself to look at him, instead, you hyper fixate on the cabinet. Barely sparing Bucky an acknowledgement, you mumble, "Hi."

"Is everything okay?"

No, you think to yourself, none of it was okay.

You fervently shake your head, "No. This is wrong, it's all wrong!"

In spite of the last 24 hours you spent obsessively cleaning your apartment from top to bottom, you sweep the first row of spices with your hand. They scatter and smash all over the pristine floor.

Bucky jolts at the shock of the abrupt action, "Can you please talk to me? You're scaring me a little bit."

You look down at your shoes, the same ones you'd worn for the last 24 hours, not having changed once since the doctor uttered those awful words, now covered in little shards of glass.

Bucky steps to the side of you, the sound of glass crunching underneath his shoes not even registering in his mind.

Your eyes remain downcast, still staring at the floor. Your eyes flicker over to his boots. "We should stop wearing shoes in the house."

"Can you please talk to me? What's going on? Did something happen?" Bucky desperately pleads, trying to catch your eye.

You side step him, walking to the front door to place your shoes on the shoe rack, quietly murmuring, "We really should stop wearing shoes in the house."

Bucky trails right behind you, slightly disturbed by the zombie like state in which you were operating.

"What's-" he trails off, his eyes flickering to a white card on the coffee table.

On it, a small cartoon stork is carrying a little bundle in its beak.

His sharp gasp stops you in your tracks.

You squeeze your eyes shut, striding over to the table as quickly as you can to get rid of the reminder.

"I'm sorry, I meant to throw this away," you blankly mutter, taking the card you made for Bucky off the table.

"Can you please just sit down and talk to me? Are you- Are we?"

You turn back to him and it doesn't take him much to deduce the answer from your glassy eyes and the pained look on your face. "No, we're not. Not anymore."

"Not anymore," Bucky quietly repeats to himself.

Hearing him repeat the words hits you like a ton of bricks. You feel yourself unravel, no longer able to push away the unimaginable.

"I'm - I'm so sorry," you apologize, your voice cracking as you feel yourself dissipate into a puddle of tears.

Unlike the last 24 hours, this time, Bucky is there to catch you. He braces his arms as you crumble into him. You feel your knees give out and suddenly, he's the only thing holding you up, only thing holding you together.

You clutch his shirt, balled up in your fist like it's your lifeline.

"It's okay," he promises, stroking the back of your head as you sob into his shoulder. Even as tears burn and well in his eyes, he focuses on the heart ache you must be feeling. "It's okay."

"I didn't do anything wrong," you brokenly whisper.

"Oh, I know, I know you didn't," Bucky consoles you, embracing you as tightly as he can. The two of you holding onto each other as you both fought the urge to swim down into the sea of despair. "It's not your fault."

"I didn't do anything wrong," you swear over and over again.

"It's okay. We're gonna be okay," Bucky promises.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

General Taglist: @ludicbouquetfromearth @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @geminigengar @@melsmelsmels @ecolle @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @mirikusashes @infamouslyclumsy

[polyhexian]

Since expanding the Jasperverse is apparently my current hobby let's try this on for size: The Collector decides rather than tattling to Philip that his current Grimwalker is stealing the new Grimwalker, it'd be WAY more entertaining to see Philip's face in the morning when he realizes what happened, and thus keeps quiet about the whole thing. Jasper makes a clean getaway with baby Hunter, but for plot reasons doesn't end up running off to some other Titan, and spends the next several years raising his son in hiding and on the run.

Fast forward to Darius finding a 6/8/10-year-old Hunter on his doorstep (or figurative doorstep, your Darius doesn't have a house so maybe it's his mom's doorstep, or Hunter corners him in Bonesborough or something), and this kid informs him that he's gotten separated from his dad, but his dad told him that if things ever went south, he could go to Darius for help.

Darius is just, like, bluescreening, because this kid looks exactly like Jasper, and admits that his dad's name IS Jasper (when it isn't something like Onyx Bloodwilliams or whatever), and is also speaking of Jasper in the present-tense, so like, 1) Jasper is alive??? and 2) JASPER HAS A KID???

A kid who is apparently relying on Darius to take care of him now. And the kid, Darius is disconcerted to learn, KNOWS Darius - he keeps asking him for his version of stories his dad has told him, like is it true that you - and can you tell me about the time you and my dad - And Darius is just like, oh my god, I never considered having kids and I was barely able to consider being in love with Jasper, but Jasper has a kid and has told the kid all about ME, and I need to be the best guardian figure possible to this child until his dad shows up and I can ask him WHAT THE HELL???

(Where's Jasper? Idk, maybe he told Hunter to split up while he goes and lays a false trail elsewhere, maybe he's dealing with bounty hunters who aren't even after them for Golden Guard stuff because who knows what Jasper's been getting up to for the last few years, maybe he's gotten in with the rebellion and is running a mission or something, who knows.)

Also Hunter is, like, a weird kid with a number of worrying skills. He's not a child soldier in this 'verse, more like a child spy. He goes through life like he's playing the world's most intense game of hide-and-seek. He squints suspiciously at everyone and everything. He can pick a lock in 6 seconds. He recreationally pickpockets and thinks it's doubly fun to reverse-pickpocket the item without his mark even realizing it was missing. He can cry on command and make for a good distraction. He knows how to break someone's instep if they try to grab him. He eats bugs.

Bonus irony points if this Hunter still has all the issues Canon Hunter has, but he has those issues because he's loved, not abused. He's very good at doing exactly what he's told…because he knows his and his dad's survival depends on doing everything Jasper says when he says it. He's scarily good at fighting for his age…because Jasper's trained him to be able to defend himself. He's got PTSD and anxiety…because he's spent his whole life worried that people will hurt him and his father. He doesn't have any friends…because they've never been able to stay in one place for very long.

Idk where Darius would stash Hunter for safekeeping. I mean, for HILARITY and SUSPENSE it'd be great to see him trying to sneak the kid around the castle. Hide him in his apartments. Shove him under his office desk whenever some other Coven Head comes in for a chat. Hunter takes it upon himself to explore the castle's fantasy ventilation system and maps out every vent and secret passage in the place to pass the time and give Darius a heart attack. Darius finds a tiny scout uniform and insists that this is totally just a small demon that's been assigned to Darius as an escort. Hunter is scarily good at maintaining a disguise, and Darius doesn't have time to unpack all that. Hm, we know nothing about the covens themselves, could there be some sort of masked Abomination Coven uniform? That'd be better so no one could try to reassign Darius's random scout escort.

The castle might not be feasible though (and Darius would realize that getting Hunter anywhere NEAR the castle would be the EXACT OPPOSITE of what Jasper would want him to do) so the other options are stashing Hunter at his mom's house or recruiting Eda into the situation.

Darius: I need you to house this kid. Eda: Do I LOOK like a babysitter?? Darius: He can pick a lock in six seconds and he's pickpocketed you twice since we started this conversation. Eda: …Intriguing.

Either way though, Darius knows he has to be there for Hunter. He knows that Jasper is relying on him to be there for Hunter. It's like, here Darius, have a universe where you DON'T shoot yourself in the foot and hurt the people you love! He barely understands what's happening and he never wanted kids and he doesn't know if he and Jasper would ever have been a thing so maybe he's not the stepdad but by GOD is he gonna be the dad that stepped up.

Hunter is a good kid despite his upbringing and is really excited to finally meet Darius after everything his dad told him about the guy, but he also really misses his dad and is worried if Jasper's okay. Darius is like, come on, we both know your dad is the strongest witch in the world (even if APPARENTLY NEITHER OF YOU HAVE MAGIC WTF??) he'll be fine. And Darius is maybe not cut out to be a father, but Hunter's a weird kid anyway, so they make it work. Granted Hunter gets REALLY irritated by some things, like, Darius doesn't know how to be as attentive to his infodumps as his dad is, and Darius can't teleport, and one time Hunter skins his knees really bad and Darius slaps on a healing patch and Hunter is REALLY UNIMPRESSED to learn Darius can't just HEAL IT HIMSELF and Darius is like HUNTER YOUR STANDARDS ARE SUPER HIGH AND A LITTLE SKEWED, OKAY???

Jasper might show up again out of the blue perfectly normal, but we all know Jasper's an overdramatic bastard so it's more likely he shows up at some climactic moment while Darius and Hunter are surrounded by enemies that Jasper blasts to kingdom come, or Jasper shows up missing approximately half his blood like "Hey Darius, do you have my kid?" before passing out while Darius is like WTF and Hunter is like "he does this sometimes."

Btw if you wanna make things even MORE complicated, throw in a new Golden Guard who's an adult Grimwalker but only a few years younger than Hunter. He could be an evil asshole or Jasper 2.0 or idk whatever the plot demands. Lol maybe he's an adult version of Will who doesn't have active decomposition issues. Literally no idea what purpose he'd serve in the plot beyond possibly existing tho.

Eberwolf thinks Hunter is great and thinks the whole situation is a riot and is generally very unhelpful except for when he's actually extremely helpful. Darius would like Eberwolf to stop feeding the child bugs. Maybe at some point Raine gets involved (surely they are doing work IN the Bard Coven long before they become its Head Witch, yeah?) and is like "Darius why do you have a child??" and Darius is like "Don't ask and don't say anything" and Raine watches Hunter lockpick his way into a file cabinet of restricted info and just kinda melts because it reminds them of a certain OTHER miscreant chaos child…

Darius and Hunter's relationship has its ups and downs because on the one hand, Hunter is excited to meet this guy, but on the other hand Hunter is a young kid under a lot of stress and Darius wasn't expecting Hunter to exist let alone be his responsibility and also Jasper probably left some stuff out during storytime. Hunter was NOT prepared for Darius to be this…stuffy. Darius is like "Here I got you some new clothes so you don't look like a streetrat" and Hunter is like "I understand the importance of blending in but why is it so fancy-looking" (Hunter thinks anything with a single frill is fancy) and Darius is like "look at all the extra hidden pockets I sewed in for you" and Hunter is like "SOLD."

Basically tho it's a Jasperverse Dadrius AU where Darius gets to be the good guy and Hunter is messed up in all the same ways for completely different reasons, lol.

WHY DO YOU KEEP SLAPPING ME WITH THESE FUCKING BANGERS???? EXCUSE YOU????

I imagine hunter is also very independent... He probably HAS been left alone before, more than jaspers wishes he was. But it's either bring him somewhere dangerous or leave him behind.

I'm going to imagine he still HAS his old GG staff but because it's so old now it's sort of... Like dying batteries, it's way past its warranty. He uses it extremely sparingly and only when there's literally no other option. So generally neither of them are using magic.

Belos must KNOW he got away. And I actually think he wouldn't put up wanted signs for him or anything- jasper hasn't exposed any of his secrets because he's in hiding. But if he's shoved out of hiding he's going to have to go scorched earth to survive. So theyre on the run... But only certain people know to look for him. Coven scouts all know they're looking for a tall blonde man with four scars on his face. Higher level members of the emperor's coven know way more about him. People like Lilith and kikimora know he was the previous GG.

But only the next GG know who he REALLY is..the next one knows he's a Grimwalker past his warranty, and so is Hunter. He is HUNTING them. Actively.

Man what could split jasper and hunter badly enough that he would pull the trigger on going to Darius after all these years and expose the huge secret that he's still alive? That he has a kid? He obviously hasn't gone to Darius yet, so he considers this a risk. What would put him at greater danger than leaving him to find Darius by himself?

I think jasper would legitimately have to be in serious danger. Maybe he gets seriously wounded fleeing coven scouts and he knows he can't protect Hunter like this so he sends him running the opposite way while he keeps them busy, so Hunter doesn't... Actually know if he's okay or not

OH! Omg hang on... They got caught by the new GG and jasper got seriously wounded like. He's bleeding everywhere. And he sends hunter away, get out of here, go find Darius. I'll find you. And hunter doesn't know for SURE if he's okay or not but he's soooo sure his dad can handle anything, nobody could ever REALLY hurt him! And Darius isn't so sure, but... Nothing HAPPENS. Like there's no big petrification ceremony or anything. If he's dead he was killed quietly. He has no idea where jasper is or if he's okay but he's got his kid now and hunter is CERTAIN his dad is fine, he will be here soon. He keeps saying stuff like "when Dad comes back" like when Dad comes back he can show you x thing or when Dad comes back you can tell him y! And Darius doesn't... Know what to say and he's terrified of when the ball might drop that.. it's been days and he's not here yet. It's been more days and he's not here yet.

ONLY HES NOT DEAD because the next GG isn't nearly as loyal as Jasper was. He's caught him and is basically holding him hostage secret from Belos trying to get his OWN answers on what's going on and what's true.

[moss-sprout]

#25 for the ask game? and can the relationship be prinxiety pls?

Behind the Enemies Door

#25: Showing up injured at their enemies house

Pairing: Prinxiety

Summary: Pre AA where Roman gets injured in the imagination – too injured, and stumbles to the first door he can find, which happens to be Virgil)

TW: Swearing, blood/injury (I think thats it but lmk!)

Word count: 1974

Based off of this ask game!! Feel free to send me more prompts! I love doing these :D

_ _ _

Roman stumbled ungracefully out of the imagination into his quiet room. He grabbed onto the cool bedpost in an attempt to steady himself, his legs shaking and breathing so hard that it didn’t feel like his lungs were big enough to intake the air he needed.

It was dark and he couldn’t see much of anything, but he could feel everything. The cool air laid against his skin that was exposed due to rips in the fabric of his prince outfit, and the sensation of something wet plastered against his skin. He didn’t have to see in order to know – from the foul odor, and from the fight – that it was blood; his blood. And he was losing a lot of it too. His open wounds pounded painfully around the sides of his waist and also dotted around his arms and legs; the pain so intense he could hardly feel anything else.

He stumbled farther into his room, he would originally fetch his first aid kit at this point and patch himself up, but his instincts were taking over at this point, and the only thing that was on his mind was help, he needed help.

Staggering out of his room, he dizzily walked into the dark hallway of the mindscape. His mind seemed to have shifted into survival mode, because it no longer felt like he had total control of his movements, and the world was getting foggier and less coherent by the minute. 

He briefly heard a knock. Someone was knocking? It took a moment to process that it was him that was knocking on… someone’s door. He didn’t know who.

Someone had opened the door. Oh, they weren’t asleep? Odd, Roman assumed everyone would’ve been asleep by now. Logan had ranting to him and Patton the other day about the importance of a full night's rest; and Patton got sleepy easily. He must’ve just woken them up with his knocking, he assumed.

He heard cursing and panic. The voice sounded familiar but he couldn’t yet place it on who it was..

_ _ _

Virgil was doing his nightly routine of scrolling on Tumblr while listening to his usual playlist. It was a little bit past midnight and Virgil was honestly just distracting himself from everything. The current conflict with the ‘dark sides’, along with his silent want to be a part of the ‘light sides’ – things just felt off at the moment, and of course the fact that he was Anxiety didn’t exactly help. 

His mindless scrolling was interrupted by a noise. At first he thought it was probably just a part of the song he was listening to, but it occurred to him after a moment that it couldn’t have been, cause he’s listened to this same song a dozen times and there had never been a knocking part of the beat.

He removed his headphones and frowned. Someone was knocking on his door? That couldn’t be right… He slowly got up from his bed, trying to rack his brain on who could possibly want anything from the social outcast – especially at this time of night. 

He creeped over to the door, as if making a single sound would expose him and alert everyone. His hand searched for his doorknob in the cool darkness of his room, realizing just how dark it was after turning his phone off.

He opened the door, making a small creaking sound as he peered out to see who it was.

“Hello?” he asked, his voice rough from not using it for almost all day. In front of him was a side, he couldn’t tell which one at first, but once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could slowly make out the bright red sash and familiar white bold jacket of Roman’s outfit. 

His frown only deepened, the side of the mindscape who hated him the most, here, at his door. That couldn’t be good. He was prepared to snap at him, possibly get into a verbal argument that would cause the other to stomp away in frustration, before he noticed something was off about him.

He didn’t carry the same bravado as he usually does, instead his posture was slumped and he was leaning slightly on his door frame.

“Uh.. Princey? You good?” his brows furrowed, his confusion turning to concern when he hadn’t answered him, in fact, now that Virgil had come to the realization of just how quiet it was, he noticed just how heavy the prince in front of him was breathing.

“Roman?” he asked softly, observing his posture further; He was hunched, and his arm was clenched against his middle, but even in the darkness he could see a stain, bright and ugly against his white tunic. 

“Holy shit are you bleeding?!” Virgil cried out.

Roman mumbled something sort of incomprehensible repeatedly, and Virgil took a moment to puzzle out what he was grumbling. ‘Help me’

“I- Well- well get in here then.” he tried tugging on Roman’s arm without really thinking, but after hearing the pitiful whimper that came out of the other’s mouth at the action, he was more gentle, and guided him into his room onto the rug on his floor, making sure to lean his back against his bed.

Virgil mumbled to himself about having a first aid kit around his room somewhere before quickly getting up to rummage through his drawers to find it, and flicking on the switch for a small lamp that sat on his nightstand to better see what he was doing.

When he returned to Roman he was able to now take in just what he was dealing with. He had so many stains on his jacket that it looked more red than white, and there were tears that exposed gashes on his body. Roman also looked exhausted, more tired and vulnerable than he’s ever seen him. He chewed on his lip in thought, Roman may have been his enemy, in fact one of the few people he can’t stand in Thomas’ mindscape, but he still couldn’t bear to see him like this.

“Alright, I’m.. gonna have to take off your clothes if I’m gonna help you.” he said to Roman, he expected Roman to be unreactive, but this time he flicked his eyes up, his face slightly altering to surprise, like he hadn’t expected Virgil to be there.

“Anxiety?” he heard him mutter.

“Uh.. yeah..” he coughed, “What did you even do to fuck yourself up this bad, dude?” he scoffed, trying to make this moment feel less intimate.

Roman didn’t respond, only watching Virgil carefully as he gingerly unbuttoned his jacket, being gentle enough to not disturb any of the other’s wounds. He hissed in sympathy upon seeing the wounds more clearly now that the jacket wasn’t half covering them up. He was able to press dry towels to his bigger wounds to stop bleeding, grimacing at every pained moan or hiss the other made.

He made Roman hold the towels in place as Virgil began on the antiseptic. He could see Roman dropping more, they needed to stay awake, right? So Virgil figured he should probably talk to Roman in order to keep him up.

“So..” he started, “Um.. what the hell happened? Lost a fight to a dragon witch?”

Roman stared at him for a moment before opening his mouth, “You have so little faith in me? Of course I could never lose to a dragon witch” he tried to scoff, but only a rough cough came out instead, followed by a pained grimace. At least Virgil knew this was Roman, he could never pass up the chance to be cocky.

Roman didn’t follow it up with anything else, in fact, Virgil could see him slipping, his exhausted body wanting to fall into unconsciousness. 

“Hey,” he snapped, “no falling asleep on me, got it? Or I’m gonna torture you with antiseptic." The threat was empty, he was only carefully dabbing the antiseptic on the scratches, but it seemed to make Roman sit up a bit straighter, trying not to fall asleep.

When Virgil couldn’t take the silence anymore, he asked the question that hung in the room like a bright pink elephant: “why did you come to me?”

“Hm?” 

“Don’t act dumb, Princey.” he scoffed, “we both know that we… Well, we just don’t get along. That’s a fact. I’m sure Logan or Patton would’ve been a way better help than I am.

Roman took a moment to answer, “I don’t know. I was just following my instincts. They led me here… Besides, you’re not actually doing too bad.”

Virgil tried not to think about the reaction he felt upon hearing him say that, instead focusing on moving to the athletic tape to bandage the bigger wounds. 

“This is.. This is really dumb of you, Sanders.” he shook his head, “What in hell did you get into?” he muttered for a third time.

“It’s nothing.” he tried to deny, but his voice wasn’t strong enough to come off as dismissive like he wanted. 

Virgil paused momentarily to lift an eyebrow in doubt.

“Ok ok fine.” he relented, “it’s just that… I can kinda get carried away in the imagination sometimes. I don’t necessarily mean to but it’s… nice.”

“You.. you really gotta be more careful, you idiot.” the words didn’t hold any heat, instead they were softer, in a more concerned tone.

Roman furrowed his brows, a question popping up in his head that he hadn't thought about until now, “why are you helping me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You hate me, Anx.” Roman said without skipping a beat, Virgil winced at that. “You have literally no reason to be helping me right now, so why?”

“Someone has to apparently.” Virgil tried, but Roman wasn’t buying it, he just kept staring at Virgil expectantly. Virgil fumbled with the equipment for a moment, “Roman I don’t know what to fucking tell you. You show up at my door past midnight looking like 10 trains hit you, and you’re the last person on this planet I’d ever expect to see trust me to help you.. You’re insane and unpredictable and fill me with awe in how much– how often you manage to surprise me.”

“And you’re so insane for this, Ro.” he paused, slumping, “who would even be able to replace you if you were gone.” he stared intently at the creative side’s injuries.

Roman stared at Virgil in astonishment, he was worried about him? That’s … that’s impossible. Anxiety was the villian, yet he was so gentle with how he patched him up, and even now, the concentrated look on his face, looking sort of sad as the emo side stared at the bandages that held Roman’s injuries.

For the first time since he’d entered the emo’s room, he took a look at himself. The red stained wounds were now covered neatly with white cloth, the chilly air making his skin shake a bit. “Wow.. you did a really good job on this, Anxiety..” he said it as though he couldn’t believe it himself. And he sort of couldn’t, Anxiety was shattering Roman’s neatly crafted perspective of him in this one night.

“Yeah, well, what’cha gonna do, yknow?” he shrugged.

“No, no… Like, staying with me and not kicking me out, and being able to heal me despite.. This whole catastrophe. That’s pretty brave.”

Virgil’s face went red and he quickly glanced away, scoffing, “N-no…”

Roman grinned despite himself, reaching out to touch Virgil’s hand, hearing a little surprised gasp, “Thank you.”

The other blinked at him, searching his face for a moment before nodding, “Whatever. Let's get you to bed, dork.” Roman knew those words were meant to be dismissive, but he could hear the grin in Virgil’s voice as he said it.

[ernmark]

One of the reasons I tend to gravitate toward sci-fi/fantasy etc in my stories is that stories set in the real world tend to be super stressful in really unexpected ways.

Take a really common trope: the perfect wedding is planned, the perfect dress odd purchased, the expensive venue is all set up, and then surprise! Everything goes wrong at the last minute and everything is ruined! But then the happy couple's friends and family come together to improvise a makeshift wedding from scratch, and it's even better than it otherwise would have been!

Every time I see that plot I die a little inside. Because that unused venue probably cost several months' rent/mortgage. As did the dress that is now in shreds. And the caterer, whose food is hopefully being given to someone who will actually eat it, but will probably be shown rotting or floating in a river as a joke.

And unless the characters in question are fantastically wealthy, I'm distracted calculating how long they had to save that much money. How many meals were skipped to afford it. How many meds were rationed. What's going to happen when the roof leaks or something big breaks and the savings that went into the wedding-that-didn't-happen aren't around anymore.

I get the same intense anxiety when cars are totaled or characters are sent to the hospital as a gag.

Yes, I can remind myself that it isn't really happening. But it's exhausting, and it kills anything remotely close to a sense of humor.

And the thing is? It's fairly difficult to screen for those sorts of things. They're not considered traumatic, especially when they're played for laughs. Nobody thinks to add a trigger warning for it. Why would they?

The thing is, add in a serial killer or some cannibals and I have a much easier time removing myself from the story. I can pretend there's a fund for that, or they'll make it back from interview fees, or insurance will cover it or whatever. And besides, a totaled car is a small price to pay for your life.

If it's in space? Who knows what their insurance system is like! The further it's removed from my lived reality, the easier it is to relax and enjoy it.

[seafoamchild]

i had another panic attack yesterday in the car on the way to the cacao farm. i'm not totally sure why. i just got super hot and starting sweating uncontrollably, felt tingling in my limbs, my whole body was clammy, and i thought i was going to be sick. i had to close my eyes even though we were driving through beautiful countryside and i wanted to see the landscape. i just kept telling myself that i'm in an adult body now and i don't have to be scared, i am safe.

examining my own psyche and confronting my past traumas has been a lonely experience. i feel isolated as i uncover the effects trauma has had on me. i know my pain is not unique, but it's a painful process to face things that have caused me so much anguish. i did not get to feel safe in my home while growing up. i had a volatile father prone to unpredictable and uncontrollable fits of rage, a mother who never stood up to him and made it our responsibility to "keep him happy", and a brother who was physically and psychologically abusive to me. i spent YEARS in hyper-vigilant fight-or-flight mode whenever i was around my family. i knew there was something wrong, but i always thought there was something wrong with ME, not my family.

i've been reading a lot about Complex PTSD and emotional flashbacks. it makes a lot more sense for what i've been experiencing. my mood swings always felt like something deeper than just depression or anxiety, but i could never quite figure out why i felt so bad, and why i felt so bad about my own existence in particular.

this article by Pete Walker resonated deeply with me. he writes about emotional flashbacks being "sudden and often prolonged regressions to the frightening and abandoned feeling-states of childhood... Typically they manifest as intense and confusing episodes of fear, toxic shame, and/or despair".

he also writes "toxic shame obliterates an individual's self-esteem with an overpowering sense that she is as worthless, stupid, contemptible or fatally flawed, as she was viewed by her original caregivers. Toxic shame inhibits the individual from seeking comfort and support, and in a reenactment of the childhood abandonment she is flashing back to, isolates her in an overwhelming and humiliating sense of defectiveness... When stuck in this state, they often polarize affectively into intense self-hate and self disgust, and cognitively into extreme and virulent self-criticism".

"Ongoing experience convinces me that some children respond to pervasive emotional neglect and abandonment by over-identifying or even merging their identity with the inner critic and adopting an intense form of perfectionism that triggers them into painful abandonment flashbacks every time they are less than perfect or perfectly pleasing".

i never knew about emotional flashbacks until recently, and i feel a sense of relief reading about them because that is precisely what i feel has been going on for all these years. i do ONE THING wrong and all of a sudden i can feel my heart sinking because i have once again proven myself to be a worthless, pointless waste of life who can't do anything right and doesn't deserve respect from anyone, much less love. i deserve to be hated, ridiculed, and abandoned. that's what my inner critic tells me.

it's a message from my inner child, letting me know that my wounds still haven't healed. i numbed my emotions as a child, and did not understand what was going on. but the emotions are still there, swelling up within me, begging to be addressed. what i really needed was for someone to tell me my emotions were valid, i was good enough just the way i was, that my needs were important too.

this process makes me tired because i just want to shut it all out and keep distracting myself with busyness and substances, but i won't. i wrote this down, for starters!

[omegaplus]

# 4,461

August 9, 2018 Mixtape.

A few months ago, I asked to meet up with a goth-girl mutual named Holly, whom I was genuinely interested in, and she agreed. She later revealed that she enjoyed a night out by celebrating her boyfriend’s birthday. She outright lied to me and led me on with a smiling face. I was devastated. The hurt forever changed me, and I was hit with a brand-new era of anxiety, depression, and devaluation. I would never see or feel the same ever again.

I would experience feelings I never had before. Feelings so wild, intense, and vivid that I started seeing the fear and think of things I never thought possible. The ‘June Visions’, I called them. The past strikes and losses of the past unforgivably returned to assure me that I was feeling lesser-than. I’d arrive to work everyday unfocused, lost, worried, and saddened while still trying to justify and convince myself to have her around before the inevitable silence. Time around me moved forward as my mind was at a total standstill, endlessly processing why someone who seemed interested and wanting to meet up would take advantage of me. Plans of having a city contact and new experiences long overdue became null and void. I’d now carry the barbed-wire cross with me everywhere I go, with no volunteers wanting to take it off my back.

I wasn’t told that I’d be trapped, slaughtered, skinned, and hung up to be bled dry. Built up only to collapse. But the show must go on, they tell you. You keep fighting on the front-lines as the empty shells smoke hot and nestle near your heart. You can do the same with your daily deeds while fighting injured until you can’t fight anymore.

I haven’t seen my (Italian) Aunt Laura in ten years. After months of back-and-forth messaging, we both found a day and time to meet up in her neighborhood of Coney Island. I hopped off the ‘D’ line to Surf Avenue and walked through the amusement park and towards the shore. The rides split away from my peripherals as I was in awe of witnessing the infinite waters and flush hazy sunny skies past the thick shoreline in melting temperatures and humidity. It was an experience in the making. I didn’t know it when I was right in the center of it until I was on the outside looking in. The moment burned so bright that the day spent uniting with long-lost family would leave an impression on me.

A doctor’s appointment on a sweltering Thursday made for another day in the city. Since it was an early afternoon visit, I desired to do a photoshoot in Manhattan. I meant to cross off some specific landmarks from the list because something inside me for months was aching to do it. I take my kit and tripod with me for what would be a full day of urgency.

I board the Brentwood train heading west to Penn Station as always, this afternoon under the dull silver skies. I take a seat on the right-hand side of the car moving backwards. There are not many empty seats, so I take my backpack and rest it on my lap. Since I’m headed to Manhattan, I’ll send Holly a text and let her know I’ll be in Manhattan. A roll of chuck-a-luck, but the odds are against me. The sounds in my ear are playing one after another to create the day’s memories as I do my best to distract myself from a newfound pain that persists. My eyes are fixated on the motion blur of the receding buildings, steel structures, streets, shopping centers, trees, and graffiti all over. It wasn’t until the train riding through Woodside that I heard from Holly. “Have fun.” she texted. A passive message of indifference with no emotion or effort. Two words was all it took to show me that she didn’t care.

My arrival in Manhattan started off by arriving at Penn Station in hazy grayscale skies and steady sticky Eighties’ heat. As soon as my check-up was over, I bolted out and took the N/R/W line south to Bryant Park and the American Radiator / Standard Building. I had an interest in seeing the structure ever since Chris Stewart used it for the album cover, and over time became a huge fan. I’d had no idea if the clouds would give way to more clarity, but by the time I stood at the park’s northwestern corner, I’d see them dissipate and stream out to make way for sharper, bluer skies. The park was densely occupied. Foreign families took pictures of their modelesque daughters posing in front of the crowds. The females in indie-rock fashion would sit by themselves under the shade to read their New York Times-recommended bestsellers or the bookshelves lined on the outer edge of the park. I’d take my time, an hour’s worth, to take a multitude of shots facing south at the park’s entrance. I sat down and had a row of saltines stashed in my backpack to satiate my appetite, then called my other Italian aunt Theresa to tell her I was enjoying myself. In reality, I wasn’t.

From there I’d take the 1/2/3 line down to Tribeca and arrive only a few blocks away from the new 1 World Trade Center / Freedom Tower. There was no trace of clouds by then. Just the ever-present blue skies and the shearing sun looking over me. I set up my kit and tripod on the corner of Broadway and Leonard St. facing south and started snapping my ideas away. Natural light, low light, filtered, non-filtered, color mode, telephoto, wide-angle depth. I’d zoom in to the maximum to see the trade center’s metal framing, windows, and antennas in any which way I could, then pull back to capture the vast landscape of Tribeca’s city streets. But it wasn’t enough. I walk a few blocks east over West St. And 9A to the Hudson River, all along Rockefeller Park and Pier 25 to take closer shots of the Freedom Tower. I’m surrounded by strenuous activity all on the mini-golf courses, volleyball courts, children’s playgrounds, and tricks on the skate park. Two hours pass since arriving here, and I sit down to face the water to call my sister to say that I made it safe and sound.

I reversed course on the 1/2/3 line heading up north for my last destination: Times Square. I walk up from the underground stop and I see the multi-million-dollar high-resolution advertisements towering over me. The older digital photos of my visit there in New Year’s Eve 2007 were a factor in me returning. I snap the aesthetics like no tomorrow. My penchant for Helvetica and subway aesthetic were the first targets; synonymous with New York transit shining bright and aesthetically pleasing. The bright dazzling arrays of electronic signs, neons, storefronts, and marquees of all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages. Everything was fair game to me; all while avoiding the infinite stream of passers-by. Me versus mammoth Manhattan’s hustle-and-bustle.

The sun was setting for all of ninety minutes taking photos there, ushering in the day’s conclusion. The mix of Manhattan’s Eighties heat, roasted sulphur and steel had me exhausted, bent, and expired by sundown. I did all what I could’ve done today. I walked back down leaving Times Square carrying the cross to Penn Station and 33rd Street to take the train back home.

Everywhere I went that day, I realize: she’s here. She’s right here - and yet so far away from me.

I enter Penn Station and walk into the station’s department store which was depressing. Old, outdated aesthetics. The shelves were running on empty and I look around for clearance sweets and discounted snacks to tide me over for the hour-long ride. The location was going out of business. No half-off water. It’s Summer. Don’t even dare to be kind or show any mercy for thirst. I roam around in the lobby for an hour before the ticket booths and the large display of destinations and times, waiting to jump on the first indication of what track my train arrives. The Brentwood line finally arrives, and I run with the passengers-slash-school of fish who look to compete for the seat of their choice.

I had a lot of thinking to do; as if I haven’t already in the past two months. I paid a hefty price for pursuing someone, and all I got was collateral damage that will never be fully cleaned up. I tried to negotiate with myself in doing the right thing by hanging in there and still be friends with her, but odds are I’ll never see her. I will continue to place my bets and pay - and pay - and pay - and pay. I’ll pay at a sunken cost to torture myself by foolishly believing that she’ll reach out to me again because who knows what could happen.

And after I step off the train, I’ll be thinking on the drive home. I’ll be thinking what I could’ve had and lost out on. I’ll be thinking what I might have possibly done wrong, what I did or didn’t do, or what I didn’t have enough of for her to do this to me. I’ll be thinking about the wasted time needlessly thrown away. I’ll be thinking about this every night I go to sleep, when I get out of bed, and when I’m at work struggling to balance customers’ childish mentality and entitled attitudes with the whirlwind concoction of loneliness, depression, and every loss coming back; paid in full to haunt me until the day I die.

Those two words would be the very last I’d hear of her.

Viet Cong / Preoccupations “Disarray”

Lower Dens “Ondine”

Black Marble “A Great Design”

Hot Flash Heat Wave “Glo Ride”

Odd Couple “What Kings Do”

Oldbills “Tablecloth”

Holydrug Couple, The “I’ll Only Say This”

Negative Gemini “Bad Baby”

Refreshers “How Bout U?”

Secret Circle “Tube Socks”

Eyedress: "1990" (ft. Pyramid Vritra)

6lack “Prblms”

Oldbills “Salsa Verde”

LaMont Johnson Aces

Uniform & The Body “In My Skin”

Water From Your Eyes “We’re Set Up”

Beat Detectives “Call It What You Want (Segment One)”

End Of A Year / Self Defense Family “Self-Immolation Family”

Ice Age “Under The Sun”

Daughters “Satan In The Wait”

Nothing “Blue Line Baby”

Sean Price “STFU Pt. 2”

Tislatin Onzar 3=2+1

Nothing “Zero Day”

Prison Religion “007”

Big Boss, The motion picture soundtrack “The Killing Fight”

Oldbills “Black Ice”

Eyedress “High Street Drive”

Tanya Tagaq f. Shad “Centre”

Ta-Ra “L’il Bit”

Sweet Valley “Sentimental Trash”

Wati Heru X Kashaka “BKWYA”

All These Fingers “Puerta Vallarta”

Body Without Organs “Osiris Rises”

Underworld & Iggy Pop “Bells And Circles”

Alt-J “Story 4 Sleeplessly Embracing” (clipping. RMX)

Moor Mother “Washington Park”

Erick Arc Elliott “Breaking”

Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever “An Air Conditioned Man”

Cansei De Ser Sexy “Girlfriend”

Flastbush Zombies “The Results Are In”

Miss Red “Come Again”

Prison Religion “Glass”

Happy Meals / Free Love “Pushing Too Hard”

Erick Arc Elliott “Fifteen Minutes”

Palm “Dog Milk”

Oldbills “Weekendluv”

Cellars “Real Good Day”

Addison Groove “Footcrab” (DJ Rashad & DJ Spinn RMX)

Charles Manson Lie

Water From Your Eyes “That’s The Girl”

Miss Red “Dagga”

Chvrches “Never Say Die”

Nine Inch Nails “The Background World”

Oh No “Banger”

Curren$y f. The Game & Prodigy “The Type”

CASisDEAD “Leon Best”

Diseno Corbusier “Meta Metalic”

Beat Detectives“ (Undiscernable) Repetition Heavy Traffic: New NYC Vibe 2”

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC Review: Fly with Me by Andie Burke

4.25/5. Releases 9/5/2023 (audiobook).

Vibes: hot lesbian pilot/anxiety-ridden bi nurse, mental health dealt with wonderfully, fake dating, trauma bonding in a good way, and very solid vibrator usage.

While on a flight to fulfill her comatose brother's bucket list, nurse Olive has to leap in and save the life of a passenger, unintentionally becoming a viral sensation. She wants to avoid the attention--but the super sexy pilot Stella makes an instant connection with her. So when Stella asks Olive if she'd like to fake a relationship in order to help Stella move up the career ladder... I mean, Stella is very hot.

A sapphic romcom debut that had me totally engaged the whole time--and it did hit me me in the gut a couple times. Yet it was also fun and sexy! Very impressed.

Quick Takes:

--One thing I really appreciated about this novel was the way that it was funny, but was also a bit devastating. There are a lot of intense things dealt with here. I never felt overwhelmed, however. A sad moment would be cornered by a happy moment. There was a lot of bittersweetness. Never in the romance, but in everything surrounding it. And I think that, overall, Andie Burke did a great job with having those issues act as an impetus for Stella and Olive to be together, rather than a distraction from their love story.

--I really appreciated the way this book touched on how nurses are diminished and dismissed by the general public, especially in the wake of COVID. The author is a nurse, and she does a great job of, again, framing this without letting it take over the fact that this is a romance novel.

--About this being a romance novel... I so enjoyed this love story. I often feel like sapphic romances kind of turn into "everyone is smiley and smart and they don't have dumb issues" stories. Which I get! We want queer love framed in a positive light. But the thing is, men in m/m romances get to be dumb and horny and messy.

Stella and Olive are undeniably both good people, but they are also dumb and horny and messy. A good part of the reason why Olive agrees to this fake dating scheme? Is because she really really really really wants in Stella's pants. And why wouldn't she? Stella is a hot pilot, hypercompetent, super lovely, and very good in bed. And you did get to see how good she is in bed.

I think that Andie Burke did a thing I would love to see in more sapphic romcoms, which is just like... mess. Olive and Stella act like a couple of morons in the best possible way, because feelings are hard. Olive has a crazy ex who I feel some may object to, but I don't know. She felt like an old school romcom crazy ex, which is to say, loathsome, but--not impossible. Especially with a partner like Olive, who feels so concerned about accommodating others.

--Speak of accommodating others, I will say, the emotional abuse Olive receives from her mother in particular is like... intense, and it's not the stereotypical sapphic romcom issue, and it did make me feel so fucking bad for Olive. The situation she was in is just impossible and heartbreaking and something I think a lot of people should put more thought into.

And frankly, there isn't a bow put on the issue at the end. Sometimes families are rough. I appreciated that this romance could cover love and cover that at once.

--That said, Stella has a similarly complex but more loving family unit. I don't think I've read a contemporary romance before where the heroine is gay and her dad is also gay? And we should see more of that.

--The one thing I will say is that I think Andie Burke could've written this as dual POV, and it would've benefited from that. At points, being in Olive's head only made it feel like she was a universal victim. I would've liked to see more of Stella's POV, not just because Stella is probably my favorite out of the two, but because she had a lot of her complex issues going on that I think we should've seen more of.

The Sex Stuff:

This is a slow burn, and it does take a while for this two to have sex. But when they do, it is quite hot. I really loved the usage of toys in this book, which we should totally see more of. I feel like whether I'm reading m/m or m/f or f/f or even poly romances, I don't see enough toys.

Anyway it was hot and I especially love the shower scene.

A very strong debut, and a great edition to the f/f romcom canon, which needs to be broader. The narration was solid as well.

Thanks to Macmillan Audio and Netgalley for providing a free copy of this audiobook in exchange for an honest review.

[omegaremix]

August 9, 2018.

A few months ago, I asked to meet up with a goth-girl mutual named Holly, whom I was genuinely interested in, and she agreed. She later revealed that she enjoyed a night out by celebrating her boyfriend’s birthday. She outright lied to me and led me on with a smiling face. I was devastated. The hurt forever changed me, and I was hit with a brand-new era of anxiety, depression, and devaluation. I would never see or feel the same ever again.

I would experience feelings I never had before. Feelings so wild, intense, and vivid that I started seeing the fear and think of things I never thought possible. The ‘June Visions’, I called them. The past strikes and losses of the past unforgivably returned to assure me that I was feeling lesser-than. I’d arrive to work everyday unfocused, lost, worried, and saddened while still trying to justify and convince myself to have her around before the inevitable silence. Time around me moved forward as my mind was at a total standstill, endlessly processing why someone who seemed interested and wanting to meet up would take advantage of me. Plans of having a city contact and new experiences long overdue became null and void. I’d now carry the barbed-wire cross with me everywhere I go, with no volunteers wanting to take it off my back.

I wasn’t told that I’d be trapped, slaughtered, skinned, and hung up to be bled dry. Built up only to collapse. But the show must go on, they tell you. You keep fighting on the front-lines as the empty shells smoke hot and nestle near your heart. You can do the same with your daily deeds while fighting injured until you can’t fight anymore.

I haven’t seen my (Italian) Aunt Laura in ten years. After months of back-and-forth messaging, we both found a day and time to meet up in her neighborhood of Coney Island. I hopped off the ‘D’ line to Surf Avenue and walked through the amusement park and towards the shore. The rides split away from my peripherals as I was in awe of witnessing the infinite waters and flush hazy sunny skies past the thick shoreline in melting temperatures and humidity. It was an experience in the making. I didn’t know it when I was right in the center of it until I was on the outside looking in. The moment burned so bright that the day spent uniting with long-lost family would leave an impression on me.

A doctor’s appointment on a sweltering Thursday made for another day in the city. Since it was an early afternoon visit, I desired to do a photoshoot in Manhattan. I meant to cross off some specific landmarks from the list because something inside me for months was aching to do it. I take my kit and tripod with me for what would be a full day of urgency.

I board the Brentwood train heading west to Penn Station as always, this afternoon under the dull silver skies. I take a seat on the right-hand side of the car moving backwards. There are not many empty seats, so I take my backpack and rest it on my lap. Since I’m headed to Manhattan, I’ll send Holly a text and let her know I’ll be in Manhattan. A roll of chuck-a-luck, but the odds are against me. The sounds in my ear are playing one after another to create the day’s memories as I do my best to distract myself from a newfound pain that persists. My eyes are fixated on the motion blur of the receding buildings, steel structures, streets, shopping centers, trees, and graffiti all over. It wasn’t until the train riding through Woodside that I heard from Holly. “Have fun.” she texted. A passive message of indifference with no emotion or effort. Two words was all it took to show me that she didn’t care.

My arrival in Manhattan started off by arriving at Penn Station in hazy grayscale skies and steady sticky Eighties’ heat. As soon as my check-up was over, I bolted out and took the N/R/W line south to Bryant Park and the American Radiator / Standard Building. I had an interest in seeing the structure ever since Chris Stewart used it for the album cover, and over time became a huge fan. I’d had no idea if the clouds would give way to more clarity, but by the time I stood at the park’s northwestern corner, I’d see them dissipate and stream out to make way for sharper, bluer skies. The park was densely occupied. Foreign families took pictures of their modelesque daughters posing in front of the crowds. The females in indie-rock fashion would sit by themselves under the shade to read their New York Times-recommended bestsellers or the bookshelves lined on the outer edge of the park. I’d take my time, an hour’s worth, to take a multitude of shots facing south at the park’s entrance. I sat down and had a row of saltines stashed in my backpack to satiate my appetite, then called my other Italian aunt Theresa to tell her I was enjoying myself. In reality, I wasn’t.

From there I’d take the ½/3 line down to Tribeca and arrive only a few blocks away from the new 1 World Trade Center / Freedom Tower. There was no trace of clouds by then. Just the ever-present blue skies and the shearing sun looking over me. I set up my kit and tripod on the corner of Broadway and Leonard St. facing south and started snapping my ideas away. Natural light, low light, filtered, non-filtered, color mode, telephoto, wide-angle depth. I’d zoom in to the maximum to see the trade center’s metal framing, windows, and antennas in any which way I could, then pull back to capture the vast landscape of Tribeca’s city streets. But it wasn’t enough. I walk a few blocks east over West St. And 9A to the Hudson River, all along Rockefeller Park and Pier 25 to take closer shots of the Freedom Tower. I’m surrounded by strenuous activity all on the mini-golf courses, volleyball courts, children’s playgrounds, and tricks on the skate park. Two hours pass since arriving here, and I sit down to face the water to call my sister to say that I made it safe and sound.

I reversed course on the ½/3 line heading up north for my last destination: Times Square. I walk up from the underground stop and I see the multi-million-dollar high-resolution advertisements towering over me. The older digital photos of my visit there in New Year’s Eve 2007 were a factor in me returning. I snap the aesthetics like no tomorrow. My penchant for Helvetica and subway aesthetic were the first targets; synonymous with New York transit shining bright and aesthetically pleasing. The bright dazzling arrays of electronic signs, neons, storefronts, and marquees of all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages. Everything was fair game to me; all while avoiding the infinite stream of passers-by. Me versus mammoth Manhattan’s hustle-and-bustle.

The sun was setting for all of ninety minutes taking photos there, ushering in the day’s conclusion. The mix of Manhattan’s Eighties heat, roasted sulphur and steel had me exhausted, bent, and expired by sundown. I did all what I could’ve done today. I walked back down leaving Times Square carrying the cross to Penn Station and 33rd Street to take the train back home.

Everywhere I went that day, I realize: she’s here. She’s right here - and yet so far away from me.

I enter Penn Station and walk into the station’s department store which was depressing. Old, outdated aesthetics. The shelves were running on empty and I look around for clearance sweets and discounted snacks to tide me over for the hour-long ride. The location was going out of business. No half-off water. It’s Summer. Don’t even dare to be kind or show any mercy for thirst. I roam around in the lobby for an hour before the ticket booths and the large display of destinations and times, waiting to jump on the first indication of what track my train arrives. The Brentwood line finally arrives, and I run with the passengers-slash-school of fish who look to compete for the seat of their choice.

I had a lot of thinking to do; as if I haven’t already in the past two months. I paid a hefty price for pursuing someone, and all I got was collateral damage that will never be fully cleaned up. I tried to negotiate with myself in doing the right thing by hanging in there and still be friends with her, but odds are I’ll never see her. I will continue to place my bets and pay - and pay - and pay - and pay. I’ll pay at a sunken cost to torture myself by foolishly believing that she’ll reach out to me again because who knows what could happen. That is, until I decide I had enough.

And after I step off the train, I’ll be thinking on the drive home. I’ll be thinking what I could’ve had and lost out on. I’ll be thinking what I might have possibly done wrong, what I did or didn’t do, or what I didn’t have enough of for her to do this to me. I’ll be thinking about the wasted time needlessly thrown away. I’ll be thinking about this every night I go to sleep, when I get out of bed, and when I’m at work struggling to balance customers’ childish mentality and entitled attitudes with the whirlwind concoction of loneliness, depression, and every loss coming back; paid in full to haunt me until the day I die.

Those two words would be the very last I’d hear of her.

Viet Cong / Preoccupations “Disarray”

Lower Dens “Ondine”

Black Marble “A Great Design”

Hot Flash Heat Wave “Glo Ride”

Odd Couple “What Kings Do”

Oldbills “Tablecloth”

Holydrug Couple, The “I’ll Only Say This”

Negative Gemini “Bad Baby”

Refreshers “How Bout U?”

Secret Circle “Tube Socks”

Eyedress: “1990” (ft. Pyramid Vritra)

6lack “Prblms”

Oldbills “Salsa Verde”

LaMont Johnson Aces

Uniform & The Body “In My Skin”

Water From Your Eyes “We’re Set Up”

Beat Detectives “Call It What You Want (Segment One)”

End Of A Year / Self Defense Family “Self-Immolation Family”

Ice Age “Under The Sun”

Daughters “Satan In The Wait”

Nothing “Blue Line Baby”

Sean Price “STFU Pt. 2”

Tislatin Onzar 3=2+1

Nothing “Zero Day”

Prison Religion “007”

Big Boss, The motion picture soundtrack “The Killing Fight”

Oldbills “Black Ice”

Eyedress “High Street Drive”

Tanya Tagaq f. Shad “Centre”

Ta-Ra “L’il Bit”

Sweet Valley “Sentimental Trash”

Wati Heru X Kashaka “BKWYA”

All These Fingers “Puerta Vallarta”

Body Without Organs “Osiris Rises”

Underworld & Iggy Pop “Bells And Circles”

Alt-J “Story 4 Sleeplessly Embracing” (clipping. RMX)

Moor Mother “Washington Park”

Erick Arc Elliott “Breaking”

Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever “An Air Conditioned Man”

Cansei De Ser Sexy “Girlfriend”

Flastbush Zombies “The Results Are In”

Miss Red “Come Again”

Prison Religion “Glass”

Happy Meals / Free Love “Pushing Too Hard”

Erick Arc Elliott “Fifteen Minutes”

Palm “Dog Milk”

Oldbills “Weekendluv”

Cellars “Real Good Day”

Addison Groove “Footcrab” (DJ Rashad & DJ Spinn RMX)

Charles Manson Lie

Water From Your Eyes “That’s The Girl”

Miss Red “Dagga”

Chvrches “Never Say Die”

Nine Inch Nails “The Background World”

Oh No “Banger”

Curren$y f. The Game & Prodigy “The Type”

CASisDEAD “Leon Best”

Diseno Corbusier “Meta Metalic”

Beat Detectives“ (Undiscernable) Repetition Heavy Traffic: New NYC Vibe 2”

[rufusx2]

thinking more of my "autumn headspace" so to speak a thing that happens within me only during the autumn season typically end of august to mid october in which my mind is completely free of my material shackles and i become completely and totally convinced that i can become a different person overnight i am overcome with not only a want for life and a hope for the future but i actually do make changes and i feel things much more deeply than usual, but with an air of detachment from it as if i am not quite out of body but definitely not in it either. a sort of overlap between us both? i dont recall much but i remember crying at night but being so fervent during the day. jaw clenching and shaking and buzzing with that energy. in fact i would honestly describe it as more of a high energy phase than anything else- i would be genuinely unstoppable if i could trigger it on purpose, or choose to live like that permanently. it feels as if there is a haze of gold placed over my vision when i look back in my memories. and this with comes the burning need to walk and keep my body moving. during this time a coworker described be as a "busy body" and he was absolutely right. when i was a teenager this would manifest in me going on hours-long bike rides until i could taste blood in my mouth from moving so fast, and now i wander the nearby neighborhoods turning on random corners until i can't walk any more. i am like a shark compelling to swim and i just can't stop. and it is amazing. i think so many things and while i still think while i walk it's always a bit duller now. i remember walking out in the autumn not caring if i had work later and not adjusting my hair or bothering to check my posture. i would stare at myself in the shadow i left on the sidewalk only. of course i also at one point felt as if the blank walls of my bedroom were going to swallow me up but i have posters up now. i think up countless ideas, and can only try to match that intensity and continue my projects during the rest of the year. i rarely think of new ideas in spring summer or winter. and the thing about fall i think is not just the general "vibe" of it all. because i could easily replicate that by watching over the garden wall or listening to my Autumn bands or putting up my halloween stuff at different times of year. but i think the crispness of the air and the leaves falling off the trees and the relief of being over with summer fuels me. i go for walks in spring sure but the warmth and wetness of the air distracts me from falling into this. while it rains in autumn, it's dry whenever it isn't (which is why it's part of wildfire season). but going back to my detachment. i find it freeing. of course i am still plagued by daily anxieties, but it's more manageable i suppose? or at least, it doesn't happen as frequently. but the main thing that brings me artistic inspiration (or at least, HAS brought me artistic inspiration for this project specifically), is this idea of the Ideal self. how i can become a new person, and change who i am fundamentally. it's futile of course, but for the duration of this phase i really do do it. and i know i'm doing it because other people like me more. every job i have ever had, i got hired in autumn. i am calmer. i think differently. i do things that i cannot do otherwise. and i try so hard to keep this up but i just cant. again, not in my nature. but i feel as if i can change my nature during those few short months a year. and i feel less trapped by this body. and of course this can tip very quickly into self hatred which i have gone into before on this blog (it's what is meant by 'WWJD' and killing the old self to be reincarnated as the new self) but i still cannot help but wish i knew how to trigger it. what drugs can do this to you? i would trade this sober mind for her any day of the week.

[useryennefer]

Hello! I saw your post from a whole ago about noise sensitivity but can't leave a comment so thought I'd send an ask instead. I totally relate to how you feel - I also find mouth/throat sounds unbearable to the point I have to leave a room or will end up crying.

Have you heard of misophonia before?

It's not technically a recognised condition but it definitely describes our intense reactions to certain sounds. You're definitely not alone and I know first-hand how upsetting it is to be triggered by such innocuous noises and have people think you're overreacting and not understand.

In terms of suggestions on how to help, I mostly use loop earplugs but have also found noise cancelling headphones helpful (ones with an ANC feature). If things get really bad, I often double them up 😅

Another suggestion is playing white noise through headphones or even out loud. I like brown noise as it's a lower frequency, but I find any repetitive noise like that can help make other sounds less noticeable and drown them out a bit. It also means you can still speak to people without being distracted or not hearing them, but other noises just aren't as intense.

Sorry for the very long message but thought I'd share my experiences just on the chance it could help you 💖

anon dear, it is SO sweet of you to take the time to message me about this, thank you!! 🫶

i completely feel you, sometimes it gets so intense that i do end up crying.. which i'm really ashamed of so it's like twice as bad :( it's really nice knowing that i'm at least not alone <3

i have heard about misophonia yes! i think i actually discovered it through loop (which i also have been using for a few months!) so yeah, i do know a little bit about this condition! as far as i know there aren't a lot of things that can help us, that's why i asked for some advice :/ i thought maybe someone knows something that i don't and i was right! 😊

the earplugs have been a huge help but the thing is, sometimes i simply forget to put them in and if someone starts talking to me while they are eating the damage is done. and wearing them all day can be uncomfortable.

i mostly want to try refocusing my attention when i start hearing those triggering sounds (i think that would be the most helpful in the long run) so i'm definitely gonna try listening to white/brown noise! i find that listening to repetitive sounds can help soothe my anxiety so i think this could actually help a lot!

thank you so much for your advice and for sharing your experience i truly appreciate it!! 🥰💕