Sincerely, Jennifer x

the girl who bathes in honey and juniper berries

[mirai-e-jump]

BON TON TOYS | ミッフィー 「テリーコレクション」

[aestheticfelicity]

[jenniferjuanconfessions]

Confession 2032

I prefer Laura Blake over Mersadist! Like the chemistry between Jennifer and LB is better!

[missjsquared]

I don’t.

[missjsquared]

She was a women who walked like the world belonged to her,

and as I watched her weave through the wilderness,

I had no choice but to concede that it did.

She had the kind of eyes that I’d been trying to describe for a decade.

My pen in peril, picking at run on sentences and rare combinations of the same six similes that I’d learned to rely on until there was an explosion of ink.

She dabbed at my dress with a soft, satin handkerchief,

but it was no use,

I would never be clean of her claim on me,

and I had no wish to be,

So I just stared into the soft waves of the ocean,

the calm night’s sky,

and the eyes that were like sweet sapphires,

until she understood that I belonged to her, completely.

She was just the kind of girl who got on with things,

and amid my drama, and all my agonising, I had to admit that I found it refreshing,

intimidating,

exhilarating,

so what could I do,

but follow her fanciful fantasies to their conclusion?

To wander the calm night’s sky, seeking out her trail became my magnificent obsession,

with sore shoulders and a sure fire sense that something beautiful was blooming inside of us,

I walked,

like a desperate woman in a desert,

until I found the sweet oasis of her all consuming, all singing, all dancing affection,

and I will never stop drinking.

- She Asked Me What I Liked About Her

[action]

Ways to support Ukraine 🇺🇦

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HelpUkraineWin.org has a collection of vetted and trusted resources, charities, and organizations to help Ukraine.

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Ukraine Crisis Media Center provides fundraising links and a list of tips for sharing information.

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This link from the nonprofit WITNESS shares tips for identifying authentic video sources (available in English, Spanish, Ukranian, Russian, and Arabic).

These visual verification tips, also from WITNESS, provide information on verifying images and videos (available in English and Spanish).

This interview with NPR contains tips for identifying fake TikToks.

[pikaychuwu]

the fairy emote is so cute 🥺

[missjsquared]

Bunker

My violent vices are so beautiful in the moonlight of my musings,

menthol cigarettes,

maddeningly short dresses,

mono recordings of 1940’s swing dances.

These are the things that keep me sane while the wolves wait outside of my bunker.

I am in the arms of an old haunt tonight,

he is harmed by the truth we both know,

and he holds me as if he knows I am bound to evaporate when the sun rises.

He lets me cry, like a child in his charmed embrace,

keeping his own weeping for when I’ve gone,

because it’s hard to be in love with a long gone fantasy,

and that is all I ever was,

clear as day, transparent as dawn breaks.

I have my coping mechanisms,

but my lust for life has a death wish,

and I can’t do this,

running in and out of darkened spaces,

frightened of the light that shines within me and how I can never escape it.

I tell him that I’m trying to be a factual falsehood,

and he just nods, with a familiar sadness in his broken, blue eyes.

[missjsquared]

Old Scratch - Day One

This will sound mad. I know it does, but I have to tell someone.

There are scratches up and down my legs. I sleep alone, and have no pets, so I’ve no idea where they came from. This has happened every night for a week, so I’m writing it down now. I don’t really know why, I guess I just need to be sure that I’m not inventing stuff in my head.

Last night, I dreamt of a corridor, and I have done for the last week, but last night was the clearest dream. I could see the emptiness that seemed to go on forever, a dim light up ahead that faded away, but flickered back to life, over and over, as if it was teasing me. A cruel light that seemed like it was self aware, like it could sense my fear. Again, I am aware that I sound mad, but I promise you, I’m not. At least, I hope I’m not.

I walked forward, even though I didn’t want to, and I could feel the air turn to ice with every step. The floor felt frosty, and I was afraid to look down.

His laughter was loud. I don’t know who. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there. Him. Maybe in the darkness before me, maybe in the shadows that lurked behind, sometimes above me, and sometimes on the ground, where I couldn’t look. It seemed to be everywhere. A smoky, maniacal laugh. Nothing more, just laughter. One voice that seemed to bounce around the corridor.

I felt like if I reached the end, I’d be safe, but something in me knew I wouldn’t make it. I can’t explain why, I just looked ahead and felt that my fate was already sealed.

Last night was the night that I got close. As I approached the light, I saw a hand holding it. It was a lantern, held by a hand that crept from the darkness. A single, skeletal hand, swinging the lantern to and fro. The light was brighter as I got closer, flashing madly.

Yellow. Red. Yellow. Red. Yellow. Red.

I reached out to touch it. My hands shaking with the rest of my body. It was so close, and I wondered if maybe I could be safe, after all.

Darkness.

My eyes snapped open and I was back in bed, alone. I pulled back the covers, to see the marks I knew would be there. Deep scratches up and down my legs. He had visited.

[missjsquared]

“You spent two hours, telling me you’d never break my heart. You spent two hours, breaking my heart, just from wrapping it, so tightly, that it suffocated…”

—

You’re A Crushing Bore (But I’ve Got A Crush On You)

[borderline-and-languages-deacti]

🦇🎃

[898966fu]

[898966fu]

[nicostiel]

Happy October Meow! 🍁🎃🍂

[missjsquared]

[898966fu]

[appelsider]

SPOOPY MONTH 👻🎃👻

[missjsquared]

Capitalism Is a Game, But You’ll Never Truly Win

Dawn is dark,

dirty streets,

dirty air await,

thirty pieces of silver,

on the fishing rod of fate,

daring her to betray herself again.

“Jump from your bed!”

The line smiles and says,

dragging her from dreams,

where she is more than part of a machine.

Last night,

she was at Greenwich Park,

parked on a blanket,

with the boy she liked,

hands tight together.

She kissed him,

just because she could,

until the moon was high,

sky shining with stars,

and they walked home,

to a pleasant, but not extravagant little apartment that they shared.

Dawn was dark,

she recognised it immediately,

bleary bleak morning chased away her dream,

the fishing line,

tapping on her window,

to the same rhythm as her incessant alarm clock,

and she sighed,

staring up at the ceiling for a second

(This was her daily treat to herself),

resigning herself to yet another betrayal.

“I have got to earn my keep.”

She repeats,

line by line, along with the fishing line.

“Sleep and dreams are for the weak.”

Following the glittering coins down the stairs,

still half asleep,

but awake enough to know her place,

she is dressed in darkness,

leaving without breakfast,

to join a collective of clouds,

just as dark as she,

all lead by lines of shining spending money,

that always feels near enough to keep reaching for,

but has never met their hands,

in a meaningful way.

She earns and she shops,

but all she really wants,

is that boy,

the one who lives in her heart,

and the little part of her brain that capitalism hasn’t conquered.

She wants,

and deserves,

so much more from the human experience,

but the world is hard,

and has a one track mind.

Dissent won’t do,

so,

off she goes,

to earn,

spend,

and scream into her pillow,

before passing out from the awfulness of it all,

to be with the boy she likes,

for just a little while.