#HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO ACT NORMAL AND DO REAL LIFE STUFF WHEN THIS IS IN MY HEAD.

[nbmudkip]

i got to act 3 of isat. *shaking violently*

[kaciebello]

One egg as the other

Masterlist Chris Rodriguez x Hades! reader (platonic) Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, mentioned) Summary: Chris visits one of his favorite campers, purely just to annoy them. Warning: Insults( nothing mean, just banter), no use of y/n, fem, sibling relationship written by an only child author note: Since someone said I should write more of them, hope I did you justice my guy. English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) word count: 1,1k

Chris busts the door open, not even bothering to knock. Normally he would have, but he had seen Luke just seconds ago helping some kids with their swords. He knew there was no danger in the room. Expect the Hades girl, but she posed no real danger to him.

“WAKE UP!” He yelled and walked in like he owned the place. The girl, who was standing near her table, turned around and looked at him confused.

“It's noon, we've seen each other at breakfast.” She said, turning her whole body to him and leaning on the table. He takes long steps toward her. His remark is dead when he sees what is lying on the table. There, under a heating lamp, were half a dozen eggs.

“Aw did you lay all of those? I'm so proud of you.” He says and pats the girl on her shoulder. Making sure she knows she did a good job. She shrugs his hand off

“Choke.”

“I rather not.” He says leaning closer to the eggs. He sees some markings on them. Turning to her, with no words he just pointed to the eggs. She sighs and gets up, walking to her bed to look for something in her bag.

“Goose eggs, some aphrodite kids gave them to me as a thank you for giving them scar cream.” She says, setting the bag aside and walking to the door. Crish gave one last glance at the eggs before following her.

He walked downstairs and into the medic room where she was now making sure the bed was tidy. Fluffing up the pillows and straightening the blanket.

“So what's on the agenda today?” He asks and sneaks behind her. Narrowly avoiding her as she walked away to grab the clipboard.

“ I am supposed to find what medicine we're running low on and report to Chiron, you are supposed to be with Luke, and if I'm not mistaken you're not at archery practice.” She says turning to him, only to see the way lying on the bed she just made. She gave him a death stare and he just gave her a wide grin.

“I will cheat physics and slam you through the wall if you don't shut up.” She said. His smile did not drop as he sat on the bed.

“How do you know my schedule? Stalker much?” He says and slicks his hair back.

“I know Luke's schedule, considering you follow his like a lost puppy, i have a pretty good idea of yours.” Crash just huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. He would say some remark. He should say some remark, but sadly nothing was coming to his mind.

“I didn't know you and Luke were like that.” He says at the end. The girl just gives him a pointer look. Just as he was about to defend himself, it was like the Bloody Mary or Beetlejuice came to life themselves.

 In walks Luke, his stride unbroken, with a smile that could be seen from miles away. Seems like they have said his name too many times.

Cris goes unnoticed by him, as his only goal is the Hades girl. When he reaches her, he grabs her by the shoulders, tips her back, and delivers the nastiest kiss Cris has ever seen. When he flips them back up again, Luke his face to him. He mumbles something to the girl. Before she could tell him they were not alone, Chris acts.

“EEEEEEWWWW.” Luke's eyes snap to him and he goes instantly red. Chris makes gagging sounds, almost making it sound like he is physically sick. Luke looks so startled he just smiles at the girl before bolting out.

“Why do you always do this stuff around me!” Chris cries out. She just turns to him with a death glare again.

“Why are you always around when we do this stuff?”

“Nah because, ya down bad!”

“You're down bad for Clarrise!” She argues back. Chris gives her an offended look.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh-uh!”

Their banter went back and forth. At some point, Percy showed up at the house but quickly turned around at the door when he heard them. 

“What do you even want here?” She asked, he had to be here for something. She very much believed that Luke would let him slack off of practice.

“Oh yeah! I was kinda stabbed.” He says, turning his arm to the girl. It was obvious that his stab wound was just a scratch that wasn't even bleeding. Scab already formed on in. Nothing that the Apollo kids would even look at. She tugged his arm hard to her. Inspecting the wound.

She clicks her tongue and lets it go. Before turning around and going to her box of band-aids. fishing out one with Hello Kitty she makes her way back to him and places it on the scratch.

“Hey, I wanted the one with Spiderman.” He says looking at the bright pink bandaid on his arm. Anyone could see it. He wanted nobody to see it. She made sure that everybody saw it.

“Get out.” She says to him. He didn't even argue, his eyes glued to the bainaid. When he tried to take it off, it was like it was glued to his skin.

“What have you done?” He asked her, still trying to scřratch it off. She just smiled and pointed to the door.

“Nothing princess, now get out.” She was now pushing him out. He made sure to dig his heel into the ground to make it harder for her. When he got to the door he stopped. He stepped over the threshold and she sighed out of relive. She celebrated her victory too early tho. 

“Don't worry, Clarisse will dig it.” Just like that, Chris jumped back and grabbed the girl in a headlock. She yelped and tried to wiggle herself out. He made sure to mess up her hair into a bird's nest. When he was done he let her go. She stairgtens and gasps for air. He glances at her.

“Look, the eggs have somewhere to sleep now.” With that, he sprints away. The furthest he can get from the girl that can cause sudden death just by thinking about it. He made sure to yell that one egg should be named after him. He was sure if she had one right now, it would end somewhere near his head, if not hitting it spot on.

[roonyxx]

Healing Love: Part 4

Summary: You have a normal life as a nurse, and you are content with it. But then a storm called Dean Winchester rolls into it and you get swept away by his charms. But secrets linger and threaten to drown you both.

Pairing: Dean x Witch!nurse!reader

Word count: 1160

Chapter warnings: angst, wounds and medical stuff (i am no professional and have no idea what the real treatments are), fluff.

support me :)

Healing Love Masterlist

My Masterlist

Deviders made by @firefly-graphics, give her some love!

“What are you.” he says again.

You struggle to get to your feet and look at his face, his eyes moving and alive, his chest rising with each breath.

Alive.

“I-“ how are you supposed to answer that? He will never want to see you again…

“I’m a witch, a natural witch.” You carefully say, glancing at both boys.

Will they kill you?

“I never hurt anyone. I promise.” You quickly add.

“Dean… y-you weren’t breathing, she saved you, without her magic, you would have been…” Sam doesn’t finish his sentence. You’re glad he doesn’t because you don’t want to think of that, what would have happened if you were just a normal nurse.

Dean tries to get up but hisses and grabs his stomach.

“Careful!” you say “I had enough to pull you back and fix the worse of the damage but you still have a long way to go.”

Dean looks up at you, his green eyes that are usually filled with joy are now cold and angry.

“Why did you lie to me. Do you have something to hide?” he snaps at you.

“Wh-what? No, of course not. I just- I figured out you were a hunter and- and well… hunters don’t care about what I do. They see my powers and go straight to the killing option.”

“Did you curse me? Made some spell so I would like you? what do you want?”

“Of course not! I didn’t do anything! I didn’t curse you! I just want to help you.” you explain.

“Sam can help me. Leave.”

“Dean…” Sam tries to reason.

“Your bandages still need changing so unless you want to die of infection, I need to see you at least every two days. Sam doesn’t know how to do it and I doubt another nurse will come all the way here, for free.” You cross your arms over your chest.

He might hate you now but that’s no reason for you to stop helping Dean.

“Once you’re all healed, I’ll disappear from your life.” You say.

The only respons you get is a grunt.

You turn and leave before he can see your tears fall.

The next two week pass slowly. You see Dean every two days and he doesn’t say a word. He’s very cold towards you, but at least he is healing.

Sam came to thank you and apologized for Dean’s behavior. He mentions his brother has trust issues.

It’s hard for you because you never hurt anyone, all you want to do is help. And to have Dean acting so cold hurts even more.

When you come in the bunker today, there is a woman there, talking to Sam.

You never saw her before.

You make your way down the stairs.

“Oh, hi Y/n.” Sam kindly smiles at you.

The older woman turns around and takes you in, “Ah so this is the famous witch who saved Dean.” Her accent gives a funny twist to her words.

Your magic rises in you at sensing her magic. She’s a witch, and a powerful one.

She sticks her hand out towards you, “Rowena, nice to meet you. So rare to find a natural witch these days, you aren’t looking for a coven, are you?”

You hesitantly shake her hand, “Y/n, and no. I have no interest in joining a coven.”

“A pity.” Rowena sighs and turns back to Sam.

“As I told your brother, aside from the healing magic there is no proof of other spells used. Dean seemed surprised when I told him that.” She tells Sam.

is that why this witch is here? Why isn’t Dean pissed at her? Perhaps it’s just you he hates.

“He’s in his room?” you interrupt the conversation and leave to do your work when Sam nods.

You knock.

“Yes.” You hear Dean say from the other side.

You come in and go straight to work, not even looking him in the eyes, but you can feel his stare burning into the side of your face.

You lift his shirt and start cleaning the bandages and his wound.

“It’s healing well.” You say out loud.

“It’s hurting less.” He tells you and you look up at him.

He sounds almost normal, that hateful glint in his eyes is gone.

You look back down and continue working.

“So you are talking to me, and letting in other witches that you apparently don’t hate.”

“I don’t hate you and I- I need her to check something.” He answers.

“Check if I cursed you? I didn’t.” you say.

“I know. She told me. I just…” he sighs and you look at him “I’ve been used so many times before, I was afraid it was happening again. And- and I didn’t want that because i- I really like you, Y/n.”

You’re staring at him, a little baffled. You weren’t expecting this.

“You treated me horribly when all I did was help you.” you tell him.

“I know…” he bats his eyes down, “I don’t deserve your help.” He mutters.

You sigh and touch his hand, “I can understand how you feel. But you hurt me. I can’t just jump back to what we had.”

He nods, “I understand” then a dark chuckle, “even when something good happens to me, I manage to ruin it.”

“You still have a chance, Dean. But I will need time, okay? You can start with being flirty again, I missed that.” You give him a small smile.

The smile he gives you makes all the tension in your body leave. You almost forgot how his smile can light up a whole room.

“I missed you too, Y/n. Thank you for giving me another chance.” He reaches out and touches your cheek.

You lean into his palm, “I guess you have questions?”

“I do, what is a natural witch? Rowena said they are rare.”

“I was born a witch, like my mother, and I draw my power from nature. I don’t need to do rituals or have contact with demons to have powers.” You explain while finishing up his bandage.

“And you can heal?” he asks, “or do other things to?”

“Healing is my main signet yes. I can also levitate some objects and feel the presence of other magic. Like the sigils in the bunker.”

“That’s so cool.” He moves a little to the side to make room for you in his bed.

“Would you lay with me while I ask more? I want to know everything.” He says.

“You just want me in your bed.” You chuckle and get comfy next to him.

“Why not both?” he grins at you.

You gently slap his shoulder and snuggle into his side, his scent a balm to your aching heart.

You spend the whole evening talking about your powers and explaining everything to him.

You don’t even remember when you fell asleep in his arms.

But you do know that it was the best sleep you had in weeks.

Forever Tags 2024: @jay-and-dean @flamencodiva @snowlovespie @awkward-and-indecisive @hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007

Dean tags 2024: @akshi8278 @pink-sparkly-witch @verytoadpapersoul @eevvvaa @muhahaha303 @alwaystiredandconfused @deansimpalababy @globetrotter28 @aylacavebear

Healing Love tags: @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @suckitands33 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @brightlilith @snowayumi @ailalovegood @shanimallina87 @stoneyggirl2 @chriszgirl92 @neptua

send me an ask if you want to be on any of my tag lists! (or if you want to be removed)

[syoddeye]

feel free to ignore this one-

i have been a big fan of fanfiction for a while and recently got into cod. and ive noticed a lot of poetic writers tend to head down the noncon/ddne territory, and i guess it’s always a conflict for me?

cus it’s beautiful, but always so fucking sickening. nasty stuff for sure. and being one of my favorite authors, i guess im asking if you believe the writing is supposed to justify it? romaticize it- instead of condemning? maybe it slips past me but im always unsure if the writing is supposed to be seen as strictly art that divulges into the depths of a dark mind and a bad man- or it’s indulging in a fantasy.

im breaking from my comfortable shell from the ‘white picket fence happy ending cute tale’ fanfiction and actually really enjoying reading dark fics because good ones do such a wonderful job at toeing the ‘this is so beautiful but I feel like vomiting’ line- but in the back of my mind i wonder if it’s supposed to be read in a positive light- like the assaulter is…good?

im a bit new to it all which is why I guess there’s a shred of shame in it, because I don’t like the actions in ddne. they’re unsettling, gross (unfeminist? unsure) - but the writing is often times why i have to finish them because it’s jus so beautiful, pulls you in. your guts are all shriveled but your mind is wide awake and your mouth is wide open like you’re trying to swallow the poetry whole (not to be dramatic).

have you ever felt this? or am i jus like. vanilla.

hey friend, thanks for your patience on this.

i know you’ve already reached back out and i’m glad the links shared here helped. i’m gonna respond to both asks here because i don’t want to break your anonymity without your consent.

i’m also disabling reblogs. everything below this is my opinion and experiences. other folks will obviously feel differently. (if any of my smart and talented friends want to chime in or correct me, please do.)

first, i respect and appreciate your openness. you are kind and your thoughtfulness shines through both messages. feeling conflicted about complicated and difficult topics is normal. not to get all woo-ey off the bat, but we’re human beings. this is our first time planetside and all that. it’s important to cut yourself some slack. this post is generally how i see it:

“the human brain is weird. sex fantasies ≠ actual desires. if you ask yourself, “would i want to act out this thing in real life” and the answer is “fuck no,” then you’re fine. shipping is also not an indicator of what you would condone in real life. you are not secretly a monster. you are a human being. human beings are complicated.”

you ask: [do] you believe the writing is supposed to justify it? romanticize it- instead of condemning?

no, and this is where i think the posts i shared help. i do not believe dead dove or dark fic justifies sexual assault and rape, in the same way i do not believe games or horror films make people violent.

you also share:

“maybe it slips past me but im always unsure if the writing is supposed to be seen as strictly art that divulges into the depths of a dark mind and a bad man- or it’s indulging in a fantasy.” “in the back of my mind i wonder if it’s supposed to be read in a positive light”

this just tells me you’re engaging with fiction in a normal way. it’s normal to process how a story affects you. when reading fiction that depicts the disgusting, there’s a chance you feel disgusted. you remind me of how i felt when i first started reading dark fic. i had to unpack and grapple with years of being told any sexual fantasy that wasn’t heterosexual + monogamous + only explored after marriage was a one-way ticket to superhell and made me an awful person. surprise, it doesn't!

again, i’ll echo my first reply in case anyone needs to see it again: content warnings and tags aside, if readers hit an unexpected limit/boundary/landmine in a fic that they know will adversely impact or trigger them, they need to exit immediately. disengaging from fanfic is a reader’s responsibility. no one is forcing anyone to read fanfic, and no one should feel like they have to finish fanfic because it’s beautifully written, at the expense of their well-being. 

(to note, because i don’t want folks to think i’m ignoring it, but i’m not going to wade into what’s feminist or not when it comes to fiction. i think that’s a whole other discussion and i’m not in the headspace to engage.)

(another note, semi-related - something that continually frustrates me in the broader discussion of dead dove and dark fanfic is the pressure for victims to share personal information to justify their opinion, no matter where it falls. while i do share some stuff about my personal life, i do have limits. i’ve been asked point blank in my ask box and ao3 comments if i’ve ever been sexually assaulted, because some folks feel entitled to that information to ‘justify’ my writing about it. people can and will make their assumptions, but i will never divulge that info here, on tumblr.com, of all places. that’s a hard line for me.)

to your second message, i am sincerely happy that those links helped. it really boils down to ‘it doesn’t equal your actual desires’. you said it was a huge relief to see that, and it is! again! i felt a galaxy brain moment when i stopped hating myself for liking darkfic. reading/writing dark fic isn't an endorsement.

and and and not to sound like your grandpapa out on the porch, but now that i know your age—you are young. do not beat yourself up for learning or not knowing your limits just yet. i am in my 30s and learning shit about myself all the time. i’ll be 60 and having lightbulb moments reading fanfic.

okay. i think i’ve yapped enough. linking to early’s post again because it’s so, so good.

[paradoxoftrees]

GUYS WTF

A mini rant before I actually go to bed:

*inhales* So I just watched the Dragon Prince season 6 and all I can say is wtf. Actually wtf. I am still up to this moment thinking about Leola I’m not even kidding. What happened here was a disgrace to the freaking universe itself (while providing Aaravos a very generous dose of my sympathy, affirming my reasons for obsessing over this elf).

i know I have this thing where I like analyzing stuff to death, so I’m gonna take a good moment to put our short time with Leola under a microscope…

To me, I see this innocent character as an embodiment of individuality and the uncertainty and fear society associates with it. Our society itself is very saturated with this stigma and disgust regarding self expression, as those who defy what people define as “normal” always seem to be the subject of hatred. Being odd, or unconventional is twisted into something negative, with people interpreting it as something to gain attention or something to purposely defy norms for the sake of doing so. Leola very much symbolizes this treatment. She is even defined as being “quirky”, a word used to scrutinize and criminalize the act of expressing oneself in modern society. This particular word confirms to me that Leola is supposed to represent the battle between normalcy and individualism that exists here on this earth. I cant help but feel so horrible for this elf child. No, she is not attention seeking, insecure, inferior, and most of all, she is NOT a criminal. She is a child who is simply in tune with herself and accepting of herself, and therefore, has the capacity to extend this beyond herself into the literal universe. How powerful is that? Her acceptance and sheer self expression are contagious. And that is interpreted as something toxic, from the perspective of those who cannot possibly find that sort of love within their empty and hateful souls. So they, and many those in our own little society, decide to exterminate it. This fictional cosmic balance is our real life societal balance. And the show’s portrayal of her during her final moments made this even more devastating. At the very end, she was a scared child. A scared child who wanted nothing more to live within the world that she loved so much. I can say that this flashback was horrendously and beautifully well done at the same time.

And I don’t even want to talk about Aaravos… but I will. Honestly the idea of this snarky af space-themed elf being an actual parent was odd at first, but I instantly felt a kind of gut wrenching sorrow for this fictional character that I haven’t felt for anything else in a LONG time. Hes so freaking skrunkly, overwhelmingly so. Seeing this elf being capable of love really hit hard like nothing else, knowing that his alarmingly heinous acts were driven by this all-consuming grief. Knowing that this villainous blue elf had such a soft past, and such a torturous present, made me want to unwrite those damn cosmic court (whatever it’s called) elves out of the very script itself. Seeing the very moment when Aaravos’s face just snapped as his daughter was literally murdered just… yeah no words.

I genuinely hope Aaravos gets to talk to Leola just one last time… I just want to see this poor elf happy to be honest. For closure.

There shouldn’t be a price for individuality. But yet we pay it. Making this sweet and scared character pay this price made our own societal ignorance even more wrenching and real.

*i don’t feel getter now. Guess I got to make a fanfic where things are better.*

[fionacle]

My college essay is 725 words, I need to cut it down to 600 by time my dad gets home today, but I like how it is now, so I’m posting it. It’s about how autistic people are viewed in society and the misuse of the word special to refer to them (us?). It’s below the cut.

I couldn’t tell you the first time it happened, most things before high school are a blur, but I’ve often heard others called special. The usage of this is not what special is supposed to mean. Special things are supposed to be important and unique, they matter a lot, it’s a very high compliment if you say it genuinely. But here it’s condescending. Like this is the core of the person being spoken about, and that core is a taboo. Like it’s pity for an illness, or warning of danger. They say the word as though they’re describing a creature, some animal of lesser mind.

“I’m proud of you for being friends with him.” “Why?” “Oh, you know, he’s special.”

To speak with one of ‘them’ is seen as a sacrificial act rather than basic human decency toward a human.

I love being praised. More than anything else in the world. I need to know I matter, to feel skilled and important, the good kind of special. But when I’m praised for something like this I feel dirty. I always try to be the hero when I see someone’s upset, even when it’s unneeded or undeserved, but not here. If I accept this praise it means I agree that I had to do something significant and difficult. It means that my friend is just a challenge that I beat. So, not only would I be lying, I’d also be insulting my friend, even if he wouldn’t be in earshot.

I want nothing more in life than to be special. The good kind.

I want to finish writing a book and become famous for it. I want adoring fans, and to make a difference in their lives. I want to be talked about as someone cool and worthy of awe and respect, maybe even envy. I want to know that my friends consider me important and good. I want everyone I meet to be so earnest about liking me that it forces out any thought about not being worth their time. I want to carry around the good special for everyone.

The word isn’t really that important to me, I don’t hold any affection for it. But I’m upset that it dehumanizes others, and mostly I’m upset that it dehumanizes me.

When I go into testing rooms, I’ve been to quite a few since childhood, they present games to test my brain. This is an awful way for me to show my symptoms. I do the best I can because it’s fun and I want to show off. I tend not to have “off” days when I visit them, especially because I’m rarely around triggers. They don’t see me cry because the lunch man took my apple juice cap. They don’t see me flail around because I hear someone chewing gum. They don’t hear my autistic friends explain to me how my experiences match theirs to an alarming degree. I need them to see my tears in action. I need to take my memories out of my brain and show them. They need to know everything I’ve done and they need to put a word to it and let me tell people.

Then, maybe, they won’t tell me to stop. To stop being too weird. Stop being too emotional. Stop being afraid of things no one else cares about. Stop “misidentifying” emotions. Stop all of it. To just be normal. Because no matter how much they want it to be true it’s not. It’s not. It never will be. I cannot be. I’m not normal.

There’s something both cathartic and terrifying in saying that.

“Stop doing that or they’ll think you’re special.”

If neither normal or special are options, what else do you want me to be?

People I’ve known for a year can see it. Why can’t you, who’s known me my whole life? Stop making that face when I bring this stuff up, don’t tell me I’m copying my friends, don’t tell me my friends are weak. They are not weak, and neither am I when I act like them. When I am true to myself I am strong. Don’t tell me that strength isn’t the real me. But I think they still ought to know me as “bad” special, as much as I hate the word, because then at least they’d know me.

[moonjxsung]

Thank you. Grab a cup of tea, this is so silly but I just need to tell someone, and I don't want to worry my friends. I've been... I'm not sure if bullied is the right term, but some people at work have been pretty mean to me these past months. It got really bad a few weeks ago, bad enough that I broke down and cried with my boss because it's just insidious enough that you can't act right away, it's small things, like lying about my schedule to make me look bad, tell me lies so I look stupid in presentations in front of people (I'll definitely exorcise all of this in a fic one day). My boss kept telling me he thought it was just honest mistakes from them, but he would talk to them and I think it worked to an extend. Except today was the Christmas party (God I sound like a bad Netflix movie). I helped them. We had to be dressed up in silly costumes so I did it. And was basically excluded from the whole thing. A few people from other services came to tell me they felt a little bad for me. And while I don't really care (this is just stupid work stuff) it's just so mean spirited it's getting to me tonight. They did the same thing to another guy (one of my friends) months ago. And tonight while it was happening I was thinking "oh yeah. it's my turn now". It makes me sad because now everyone just know something is wrong. Everyone want to ask me if I'm okay. And I want to pretend I am, because again, this is silly, but at the same time I want to be honest. It hurts being excluded. It sucks knowing this is just because these people don't like me "because I'm too nice, boring and don't fit in" (their words). I don't celebrate Christmas with my family anymore so this was the only time I could pretend to be normal and well. Now if I say something I'm the bad guy who's blowing this out of proportion. So I'll keep smiling and telling people I'm okay with this. But it sucks. Oh, and I ranted enough so I'll stop here but they did the same for my birthday. Told me they organized a party for me and long story short, there was no party when I showed up. I'm sad. That's it. I'm just sad.

Bestie your coworkers sound like awful people first of all. SECOND I am SO sorry you’re going through this ☹️🫶 aren’t work politics just the fucking worst?? In early college I worked at a clothing store and the people there just did NOT fw me in the slightest and there was one girl in particular who would constantly make jokes about how she was annoyed when we got scheduled together or when I would ask for help on things I didn’t know how to do. I think I left crying nearly every single day that I worked there, but it was just also this feeling of WHYYY are you treating me like this? Like what on earth do you gain by being a shitty person to a colleague??

I’m sorry they excluded you from the Christmas party, that’s supposed to be a fun time and it’s so insidious to gang up on you like that. I would’ve cried to my boss too! But I think what you’re doing right now is the best thing you can do- persist and smile through it. Don’t give them the reaction they want, at least not in front of them. Your personality will get you just about anywhere these days, and the more you can build on your strength of putting up with shitty people, the more you can use that skill to get you even further than they are in life. They’ll just be stuck being miserable pieces of shit who find joy in bullying others (yes that’s literally bullying) and YOU will be the bigger person who learned how to live through it and tell the tale. Keep your head up, these people aren’t worth a second of your spare thoughts or your tears!!! And if you’re ever around them and they’re being pieces of shit you can always message me on here and we will talk shit about them in real time. OKAY? Okay. I love u. And you deserve better!! Rooting for you always and I have your back even if it’s through a little phone screen. Fuck them fr 🚮

Sending you all my love!!!!!! 🫶🫶🫶☹️💓❤️❤️❤️

[taocc-updates]

[So I've been reading every statement I could find up until the point Xeya asked if I should get kicked out.]

[First off, oversxuallzation. I admit. It's going way, way to far. Even for myself. And I dont know why I keep doing it. I hate it so much but I just dont stop and I think its because at school and pretty much everywhere I go with all my friends were always acting sexual with each other as jokes and I've just been thinking all this time that thats the normal thing to do with friends I guess? I don't fully know. But seeing how everyone else hates it just as me I'm going to stop. I didn't mean for anything to get this bad and I didn't mean to make anyone uncomfortable. I genuenly didn't mean to do anything to make anyone hurt or feel worse I just wanted to be stupid or funny or something I don't know anymore. I'll stop being so sxuallized. I'm sorry I put anyone through anything, it was not my intentions. I was just being stupid.]

[Secondly, on Lily's statement she said that I saw her and Sign, mod and oc, as the same person. Which I did. For the longest time I really did. At the time it was just easier to see Signs mod as Signs mod and my partner that I cared about because it would be easier to remember who they were why they were important what they did and why and how. I had no idea I was misgendering them either, I really didnt. And I had no idea how bad it really was, once again, I'm sorry. I truly am. I didn't mean to harm anyone or make anyone uncomfortable and I didn't mean to do anything to her or to anyone else. I just wasn't thinking rationally and I was just doing what was easier rather than what was supposed to be. And as she said in her statement, I did fix it up when she told me to and I apologized. Atleast I think. Did I not?? Sorry for misgendering you Lily and for doing all that. Anyways. I'm sorry to all of you and I'm sorry to anyones thats dealt with me doing all that. I didn't mean to make anyone uncomfortable I really didnt.]

[Thirdly, the venting. I noticed someone I think it may have been star I may be wrong but they said that I frequently go to TAOCC to cope and to be oversxuallized. Which, the overszuallized is already bad it was the first thing in this essay, but the coping and real life problems I don't wish to speak about. I will if you really want me to but I just feel like its unessesary to talk about problems I have in real life and I don't want to feel like I'm guilt tripping anyone. I'm sorry.]

[And the last thing, I felt like it needed its own section, Autumn and Xeya. Autumn is a great person, shes amazing and I could never be happier to be friends with her and I truly hope that I can still be friends with her. I admit, I'm kind of sexual with her characters and she has stated that shes uncomfortable and like I said before, I'll stop. I'm sorry I made you and everyone else so uncomfortable and I'm so sorry I had to put you through my bullshit. I never should have said anything like that about your characters and I promise I'll make differences. And Xeya, like Autumn I'm happy to be your friend. And I feel so lucky everyday that I can just think about doing things with you and your characters and talking to you and I feel happy when I do. And, I know it was really far in the past but, I'm so sorry about Drunkie and the sexualization stuff again I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or... Make you... Y'know. I really didn't mean to. And I'm so sorry I put you all through this. I know I keep repeating the same apology every single time but its because I truly mean it.]

[This is such a great community with even greater people and I could never ask for a better place to be in and I'm so happy when I talk to mods or rp with characters, I have said before that I'm trying to be so much better than I was and I admit I started losing myself again. Just making that blog made me consider so much and I should have listened. I deleted the lust blog its gone. I'm sorry I put anyone through any of my bullshit. I'm sorry I'm such a terrible person. I'm sorry I'm not changing to be better for anyone faster but I really am trying. I promise I am. Even though it dosent seem like it I really am trying. I'm so sorry to everyone about all of this. And I'm so sorry that I'm doing more harm than good anymore. I'm sorry. All I ask is that you just keep waiting for me and keep me in this group of people and I'm going to stop everything to change myself. Any means necessary.]

[I'll ask again. If theres any questions that you want me to answer, if theres anything you want me to do to change or to stop doing or to start doing, tell me. Please. I'm not doing any rp until I fix whats destroyed.]

[Thank you for reading.]

Just putting this here. I’m on break, heh.

[jatlokgwo]

for @rainbow-strawberry-sherbert!!

i have no idea how to start this rip (dd= disassembly drone)

i useally say that am xiao and a dissasembally drone but im more concepts then anything else it goes

consepts: small flying dangerous flexable tail multiple forms/run like a dog and grab like a human watcher listener endless job to do

base: raptor birds (-> peregrine falcons) fennec foxes

2: demon (-> xiao is considered a demon adeptus and another word for dd is sky demon) feathery wings sharp teeth

3 (vaguely but there): otters finchs western dragons/wof sandwing scaramouche

"in view": adeptus xiao generic dissasembally/worker drone hybrid S (my kinsona) i like to show myself as a fennec like with the gifs

species by accosiation: ADEPTUS cat bees (-> friend called me minecraft bee coded) wolf dog theres a version of S thats uninfected any au

xiao is the minimum that you need to know to understand and before i had things to latch onto i jumped around sonas alot it was stressful and i only made things worse by interrogating myself witch is why i said to not think about it so hard and just draw whats fun =-= i found out im a drone by making a sona and then the sona feeling way more real then other sonas/ocs like chengcuo i was just bein silly ^^

sometime its also neurodivergent stuff (???) i cant understand facial expressions so i either exadurat them or dont really emote (i promise you that the xiaos are diffrent pictures)

colors and color coding is also important to me!!!!!!

am small and can fly but am kinda flightless when xiao sits down his ingame model doesnt reach the floor and dds are kinda tall but i look more like a worker drone with dd features and there both short to avrege humans as xiao i had wings and a bird form (can fly) but i lost them when a dream-god ripped of my wings and dds have retractable wings but copper 9 has a constant death storm happeneing that acts like a blizzard so id rather walk and do my silly jumps sjchd

its also a comfort thing!!! im a bird adeptus without wings or a bird form as a dd im a living wepon every even if the dream god tore them again dds can regen our heads i will have wings again in like a minute and if i really want to hen its awkward but of i angle it right there strong enough to break other drones caseing (my wings as xiao where normal feathers my life has also been almost constant trauma and i would pretend to use finchy looking wings to hide or hug myself and playing genshin was our escape we where still plural and we would listen to alot of genshin asmr and i think thats how i formed as a fictive) i think its also linked to my hyperfixation on md and my main comfort charater right now being a N (hes the yellow dd in the gif and my pfp :3)

ive also been gaslit and a defining part of being a dd is that you used to be a normal worker drone before you got infected with the absolute solver and it did some mlp infection stuff and messed with our memories theres a whole episode about it (cw for robot gore flashing lights anf 1 line of ablism against narcissists if you click the link its the episode) having anatonamy instead of wanting it is still kinda new to me theres a theme with them about how xiao was enslaved as a wepon for the dream-god and dds arnt supposed to be unique but xiao gets to be a person and the dds are unique anyways that i resonate alot with to its nice to see the systems that let the bad things happen be villians instead of when i tell people that the thing that hurt me was school and they try to find reasons why it was my fault

(hopfully this make sense brain wont give me anything else for now but if i think if something ill add it!! and if you have questions i can do my best to awnser them!!!!)

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #53

previously - Journal Entry #52

Victor

"Do you even know what I need?"

I can't believe I said that to my poor husband, especially given how our conversation had been going and the state of mind he was obviously in. Even before the entire sentence was out of my mouth, I regretted it, but unfortunately there was no way to pull it back in.

Several minutes before that, I'd found Yuri in the upstairs bathroom, crying his heart out. I think he was trying to hide from me, but I figured he would've realized by now that he never can. I don't know how I always know when something's wrong with him. I just do, and usually I'm able to help him in some way.

On this night, though? Tonight, not only did I not help, but I possibly made things worse.

Not that anyone else’s opinion has any real impact here, but I want you guys to understand, asking Yuri that question wasn't meant as a rebuke. Although it probably came out sounding that way, I wasn't trying to criticize him.

The truth is, up until recently, he's been giving me exactly what I need, whether he's able to articulate what that is or not. And if he can't put it into words, that's not his fault. It's not as if he's never asked me what I need. He has, but it's my inability to express stuff clearly that's the problem, not his ability to understand, and for me to demand him to explain something that I can barely even explain myself was beyond unfair.

What Yuri does for me, and what I've always needed someone to do, is to help provide stability for me. Sometimes, when I'm scared or stressed or upset, I have a hard time processing my thoughts and regulating my energy. I don't really know how to describe it, but it's like static in my brain, like white noise that makes it nearly impossible for me to hear the part of my mind that controls my impulses and forms logical thoughts. But, Yuri knows how to calm me down when I'm like that. He knows better than anyone what a mess I am, and he always seems to have the ability to sort me out.

Yuri was the one who realized the importance of schedules for me, too. As silly as it sounds, he gave me a regular bedtime and wake-up time, and helped me build other routines into my life that are the same every day. I can't even begin to tell you what a huge difference that's made in terms of how well I'm able to process my emotions and regulate my energy. I guess it's because those are things I don't have to focus on now, so I'm able to devote more brainpower to being a functional human.

Another thing he does is to talk sense into me when I need it. I like to say he's my voice of reason, 'cause I'm not particularly reasonable sometimes.

Being with him has helped me grow as a person. I think I'm more mature because of him, and more responsible. He teaches me by example how to be brave and resilient and emotionally strong. In situations where I'd be likely to give up, Yuri keeps going. As frail and sick as he is, if he can persevere, I have no excuse.

Since he's been really sick this time, though, something's changed. This is the most seriously ill I've ever seen him, and usually when he's not well, he's clingy and needy and just wants to be held and fussed over as much as possible which, contrary to what people may think, I don't mind at all. I haven't been able to take care of him like I normally would, and I'm sure that's affecting him, but it's more than that. I feel like he's been distancing himself from me, and I don't understand why. I've never known him to be as emotionally fragile as he's been over the past several weeks, and I suppose I expected that to lead to him wanting more affection, not less.

Not gonna lie, the lack of physical touch is hard on me, 'cause that's another thing I need. I'm a very tactile person, and Yuri touching me in any way makes me feel grounded and safe, particularly because I know how much of an act of trust it is for him to touch or be touched by anyone. I love it when he gets onto my lap and wants me to hold him, but I'm equally happy when he gives me a hug or plays with my fingers or pets my hair. And I like it when he lets me touch him in any way at all, but especially intimately. It's good to feel trusted. I'm missing that now, and it's starting to hurt me quite a lot.

Yuri didn't answer my question, but I didn't expect him to, since it was kind of rhetorical anyway. The problem was, he cried harder, and the sound of his sobs went straight to my heart. It felt like an invisible knife was stabbing me in the chest, and it took a sheer force of will for me not to start crying as well.

I felt so bad for snapping at him and upsetting him more than he already had been. Yes, I was frustrated and confused, but that didn't justify it.

I know there are people out there who believe he uses emotional manipulation on me. Like, people have said that to my face, so I'm not just being weird or paranoid about it. And yeah, maybe he does do it occasionally, but I've never met another human being who doesn't do it once in a while. But, to anyone who thinks Yuri regularly exploits my sensitivity with fake tears or some other made-up crap, I just wanna remind you that you aren't here with us all the time. You see what we show you, and that doesn't always include the moments of raw, genuine emotional reaction.

I promise you, Yuri's tears tonight were real, not made up to trick me into doing anything. In fact, I got the feeling he would’ve preferred that I wasn’t anywhere near him. Something was hurting him, and I was pretty sure it wasn't his illness. I was afraid it was me.

When he didn't respond after several seconds, I said softly, "I'm sorry."

I could barely hear him as he said weakly, "Go away."

"No," I said. "We need to figure this out.

Finally, he looked up at me. His face was all puffy and swollen, and the edges of his eyes were red. He looked awful, and I just wanted to hold him and soothe away any pain that I could.

"There's nothing to figure out," he said. "You'd be better off without me."

"Yuri." His name was all I could get out at first as I battled my desire to break down in tears. I drew in the deepest breath I was capable of. "Yuri, I need you. Please don't ever say I'd be better off without you, 'cause I wouldn't be. Without you, I... I might not even be here."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How could you forget?" I said. "Remember the day I came home from the hospital? That night?"

"Yes."

I folded my arms close to my body, but the self-protecting gesture did little to prevent the shiver of dread that went through me at the memory of that night. I'm not sure I really wanted to talk about it, but something in my conscience told me I needed to reveal one particular thing to my husband. It was a secret too big to keep, and I needed him to know, and there might never be a more appropriate time.

"That night... I literally wanted to die, Yuri. Not figuratively. Literally. I would've been perfectly fine with closing my eyes and never waking up."

He stared at me, and the expression that crossed his face was nothing short of haunted. "You...? Literally?"

"Yeah," I said. "I was angry and scared and... I don't know. Desperate, I guess. I felt like my whole life was ruined, just because of one dumb mistake."

"It wasn't," he said. "Didn't I tell you that?"

"I know. You did, and I trusted you. It's the reason I'm here," I said. "But, I think I was out of my mind that night. Like, I wasn't thinking straight at all. I'd never been in that much pain in my entire life, and I was worried that I'd never be able to see again, and everything was just... too much. I know it's nothing compared to the pain you're in sometimes, but I still couldn't handle it. Not like you can."

"I didn't realize," he said. "I wanted to help you settle down because I knew you were upset, but I... I didn't realize..."

"I'm still around because of you," I reiterated, and in a flash of clarity it occurred to me that statement was one hundred percent true.

I don't know if there's a word for how horrible and useless and stupid I felt after my accident. Combine that with an excruciating headache, deep bone pain in both my arms, unrelenting nausea from the medication I was taking, and the absolutely terrifying prospect of permanently losing my vision, and I had a recipe for the end of life as I knew it. In hindsight, it's easy to say I was overreacting, but all I wanted on that first night back at home was for all my pain, both physical and psychological, to disappear.

You know how I explained that my struggles with impulse control and rational thinking are worse when I'm stressed? Left alone that night, it's likely that I would've made a very bad choice, and as a consequence, I wouldn't be here right now to share my thoughts about it. Thankfully, I had Yuri by my side. He couldn't make the pain go away, but he convinced me I could endure it and that it'd eventually pass. He was right, and I'm beyond grateful he was there with me.

I continued with, "You told me that you didn't know what you'd do without me. You said you'd stay by me no matter what, and you promised to take care of me, remember? You promised. What happened to that? Didn't you mean it?"

"Of course I meant it."

"If you meant it, then why are you saying I'd be better off without you now?" I said. "If you thought I needed you a few weeks ago, why wouldn't you still think that?"

"Because I was wrong."

"About what?"

"I wanted to be useful," he said. "I wanted to feel like an equal partner, and I wanted you to be able to trust me to look after you."

"I did trust you," I said. "I do."

More tears began to leak from the edges of his eyes and spill down his face. "I really tried. I tried my best to be strong for you and take care of you, but... I couldn't do it. I can't be equal to you. I can't even do a fraction of what you do.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re not able to do everything all the time. I get it, and it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine, Look what happened to me after only a few days. Other people ended up having to take care of me, and where did that leave my promise to you?"

"You had no control over that," I said. "You did try your hardest, and you were awesome, but we both know you were already starting to get sick before my accident."

"This always happens. It's as if I'm always too ill when you need me the most."

"I need you all the time," I said.

"You don't need me being a burden to you."

"You're not a burden to me. How often am I going to have to tell you that? Taking care of you is a lot, but it's not a burden. I want to do it."

"But, what if I don't want to make your life difficult any more?" he said.

"You're not making my life difficult. If I ever made you feel that way, I'm sorry, 'cause I never meant to. You make my life better, and I'll never not want you in it."

"It... it wasn't you who made me think that," he said.

I held out my good hand to him. "Will you let me touch you?"

He chewed on his lip, clearly wrangling with the decision. I could practically see the debate going on in his head, reflected in his eyes. I could also see the precise moment when he made up his mind.

He crept slowly across the floor toward me, and crawled onto my lap. Wrapping his arms around my body, he leaned into me and rested his head against my shoulder. I held him with my good arm.

He cried for a while, and I stayed quiet, just letting him get it all out. It was plain to see that our situation had been bothering him and that he'd been spending a lot of time thinking about it. I suspected it'd been on his mind for some time, even before his conversation with Seiji, but whatever had happened between them certainly hadn't done anything to improve matters at all.

It infuriated me to think that Seiji had gone to see him in the hospital with the sole intention of telling him off. Of course I knew how Seiji felt — he'd made it perfectly clear that day in the park — but when he said he was going to give Yuri a piece of his mind, I never dreamed it'd be something like that. I thought maybe he'd give him a bit of a hard time for having to work instead of being there to see me compete. I didn't expect he'd go there and air out all his pent-up negativity.

And like... how dare he say Yuri is a terrible person? And how dare he try to interfere in our relationship and tell Yuri that I'm unhappy and that I'd be better off without him? I wanted to give him a huge piece of my mind for that.

Generally, I give people the benefit of the doubt, and I get that Seiji's going through a lot of difficult stuff, but that gives him no right to make everyone else as miserable as he is. Some of us are working hard to be the best versions of ourselves, and nobody needs another person tearing them down.

I decided I'd let it go for the time being. The last thing I wanted was to get into a pointless fight. I have more important things to focus on than Seiji Hinamori's poor behaviour. Besides, I reasoned that I'd get my opportunity to speak to him about it at some point anyway, and maybe it'd be a more productive conversation if we had the benefit of time to calm down and gain some perspective

"I love you," I said, once Yuri's weeping had subsided to sniffling and a few tiny whimpers. "I need you and I want you, and nothing anyone says is ever going to change that. Do you understand?"

He nodded against my shoulder, and said, "Yes, but..."

"No 'buts'," I said. "Maybe it's hard for you to accept hearing this from me right now, but you know what? That's totally okay. Take your time and figure out whatever you need to figure out, but just keep in mind that I'm not going anywhere while you're sorting through it.

He sighed. "Okay." Then, after a second or two, "Victor?"

'Yeah?"

"I really don't deserve you."

"It's not about deserving," I said. "Most of us wouldn't be happy if we got what the powers of the universe or whatever decided that we deserved. Wouldn't you rather have what you need than what you deserve?"

"Are you angry with me?"

"No, I'm not angry," I told him. "I'm worried about you. I'm sorry if you thought I was mad. I'm tired and frustrated, and I guess I could be handling it better, but that's got nothing to do with you. That's just me wishing things would get back to normal faster."

"Me too," he said. "I'm so tired."

"I know, love," I reached up to run my fingers through his hair. "It's okay. You've been through a lot lately."

"So have you.”

“Yeah, but I’m mostly better. Now we’ve got to work on getting you back on your feet.”

“I know I shouldn’t complain,” he said. “But I don’t know if that’s going to happen. Me getting back on my feet. Everything hurts, and I don’t know how to cope with it any more.”

"Saying you're tired or in pain isn't complaining. You’re allowed to say how you feel,” I told him. “It might actually be easier to deal with if you talk about it.”

"I'm too tired to talk. I can’t even think any more."

“Do you want to go to bed now?" I asked. Sleep wasn't the long-term solution, I realized, but if he was mentally tired, at least some sleep would give him a break from whatever turmoil was in his head.

"Yeah," he said.

"Would you like me to sleep in your bed with you, or do you still want to be alone?"

"I never want to be alone," It came out so softly that I wouldn't have caught it if his head hadn't been so close to mine. "Never again. I'm so afraid of that. But I'm scared that if I can't become a worthwhile person, I... I'll be alone... again... forever."

I thought he had run out of tears, but they renewed themselves in the middle of a sentence and left him hiccuping for breath by the end of it. He slumped down onto my legs, as if he didn't have a scrap of strength left to hold himself upright any more.

"Shh... shh..." I rubbed his back the way I know he likes, trying to comfort him. "Listen to me. You are a worthwhile person. You're an amazing person. Don’t I tell you that all the time?”

“Y-yes.”

“We all have stuff to work on,” I said. “If you want to fix some things, I'll help you however I can. Or you can ask for help from a professional if you think that's what you need, or we could talk to somebody together. When you're ready, you just tell me what you want, okay?"

"I want to feel like I’m enough," he whispered.

I pushed away the urge to tell him that he already is enough, that in my eyes, he’s everything. I’m sure he knows how much I love him and I’m equally sure that, deep down, he understands there are a lot of people in his life who do accept him just as he is.

The real problem is that he’s struggling to accept himself.

I don't think his poor self-worth is a new problem. My guess is that it goes back so far that he's forgotten how to think of himself as inherently valuable and is convinced he has to earn approval and validation from others. Except he never can, because when someone praises him or tells him he matters, he doesn't trust that they're telling the truth, because by his own standards it's literally impossible for him to measure up.

I could’ve given him every affirmation I could think of, and he wouldn’t have believed any of them. I wanted to tell him how strong and courageous and resilient he is, how intelligent and practical, and so delicately beautiful that it should be me who calls him 'treasure' and not the other way around. I wanted to say that he doesn't have to be objectively perfect to be perfect for me. But, all those words would’ve been lost if I spoke them aloud just then, and that realization broke my heart.

What I said instead was, "I'm never going to let you go. You're the most important person in the world to me."

With the proper help, I hope that one day when he looks at himself, he'll be able to see what I see when I look at him. Not a single one of us is flawless — not Yuri or me or anyone else — but everyone has something to offer the world. Everyone has value. Each of us means something to someone, whether we recognize that or not, and we each have our own special place in the grand design of the universe.

Sitting there in the middle of our bathroom floor, it occurred to me that I want the same thing for Yuri that he wants for himself. I want him to be happy, and I want him to understand that regardless of his disability, of any personal shortcomings or any mistakes he's made, of any bad thing anyone's said to him or about him — regardless of anything — he is enough.

[demivampirew]

I think u need some perspective. A. It's normal for people to work remotely since 2020 especially if they're at the corporate level. Plus if her focus is on the Warhammer stuff it makes sense that she's always with Henry. B. Social media is an extension of a person not the whole person. Henry probably made a conscious choice not to post as much for whatever reasons. Also it's normal to post the person ur in a relationship with.

The reason you're so upset is because you put Henry on a pedestal in the first place. He isn't required to interact with fans on Instagram or post about his life, and demanding that he post what you want him to post is entitled. Daddy isn't punishing you (also so weird to call him that even if you were being sarcastic). For example a celebrity years ago stopped posting on social media and wasn't interacting with fans as much and his fans were being demanding and angry about it like you. Then it turned out his mother passed away and that was the reason he took a step back and it was quite disgusting that fans were demanding he post selfies and updates while he was going through that.

And C. You only know Henry through Instagram and magazine/tv interviews which are not on the fly. Usually famous people choose which questions they answer and practice what they will say to seem relatable and interesting. So basically even if Henry said he likes xyz, we don't really know if he's telling the truth, but people in his real life like his family and gf know him for real and she probably fits his type despite what he has said in the past to seem appealing to the masses. Also he might have said he wanted a lowkey relationship but as far as famous people go this is pretty low key, just look at taika waititi and Rita ora for comparison or any "power couple" constantly posting about each other. Also if Henry is in love which it seems like he is, it's natural for him to want to post his partner, that's a normal thing that people do. He's still posting about his projects in between so it just seems like to me even if he never posted her again you would still be unhappy.

Let's just say, the way my brain works, when I noticed a change in behavior I need to find a cause for it to understand it. He was a way with fans and since Miss Influencer showed up in the picture, he's been acting in a completely different manner. He's been avoiding us and doesn't even take the time anymore to post things like "Thank you for watching my show/movie, I truly appreciated it" like he used to. Why if I acted like a "good fan" (don't talk publicly about his personal life or pretend everything was ok) and don't comment or send nasty dms to her or anybody, am being punished because some fans do?

And the "He isn't required to interact with fans on Instagram or post about his life, and demanding that he post what you want him to post is entitled." is a stupid argument on your part. He's not forced to but when he acted a certain way for years and all the sudden he changed and didn't engage with social media anymore without explanation and, the only "explanation" is a "f*ck off" post he made calling out all fans when in reality it was just a loud minority the ones behaving "badly" (I put badly in quotation marks because some were actually nasty and others just questioned him for flying an American woman to the UK in the middle of a worldwide pandemic, showing how he abused his privilege as a celebrity), he should expect those fans who acted like he considered good, to question why are we being punished and blamed for other's actions, especially how in the past the same happened with his other girlfriends and he still was nice to all fans (not just the ones he sees live at events). Am I supposed to wait until he decides to come back to Argentina, if he ever does it, for him to show appreciation for supporting him? And, about your point of me being entitled for expecting him to act like he used to and the only reason I see why he wouldn't is that he's punishing us for fans not being in the Nathlee fans club, is that's an entitlement, well, go ahead an call me entitled. For all I care, you can call me the Entitled Karen of the fandom, idgaf.

About your point that something serious could be going on with his family; Charlie, and Heather act normal. His "girlfriend" is doing her influencing online so, if something serious happened, she doesn't give a single f*ck.

And point "C", I don't claim to know who he's really inside and in his personal life, I just loved his public persona before Miss Influencer showed up (admittedly ignoring some red flags like the fact that he dated someone much younger than him and he dated a woman that hunted animals as a sport because, at the end of the day, he made the right decision to call off those relationships) But now, his public persona is someone who doesn't engage with fans unless it's obligatory for press; he only posts ads, posters, and trailers (no thank you posts, I appreciate your support); we spend a f*cking year asking for a picture of Kal and he only posted when he could make it about Natalie and made a coordinated post, like if she was f*cking important.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

1) I could have told you that. I knew all of that, even explained it in a Tumblr post a couple of weeks ago. Where's my linguistics degree? Can I get a linguistics degree for my Tumblr blog?

To be fair I don't think I get any special credit for deep analysis for picking up on that, it's kind of the engine by which their entire double act works. Which anyone who listens to it will be aware of, but come on, person who wrote some stuff to get a linguistics degree, you’re not supposed to actually spell it out. This is like when Lee and Herring started straightforwardly informing the audience who would be taking the high and low status for that episode. The entire joke of that bit being that it doesn’t work, you can’t do that or you’ll ruin the illusion.

Closest they’ve come to doing that before now was that time when they Elis joked that one of them should make a massive life change so that they’d be more different from each other because there always needs to be a bit of tension created by the differences between members of a double act, and John said they don’t need that because they have it in their different levels of career success, and that may have been pulling back the curtain just slightly too far because there wasn’t really any way to reply.

2) This is a longshot, but I don’t suppose anyone would know how to find that flowchart? Apparently they put it out on Twitter (I am not I am not I am not I am not calling it by any other name and I kind of hate how I’m starting to see people shift from jokingly saying “I guess we’re supposed to call it X now” to just saying “I saw this on X” like that’s a reasonable thing, I don’t even use that website and I objected to its normalization as a tool of serious discourse in the first place but this is a step too far) in 2016, does anyone know how to find Tweets from 2016?

3) While trying to Google this Tweet from 2016, I came across the John Robins mailing list, which I had not previously known existed, so of course I joined it. There is also an archive of these emails online, and the latest one says:

That said, I will be releasing a recording of the show on Bandcamp in some form. Probably around March / April this year. I know it has value, and I was so consistently blown away by all the people who came to see it, it means so very much. I will pull my socks up and listen back to the recordings I have and make the necessary edits to create an acceptable representation of Howl for you to listen to.

Hooray! Thank you, John. You’re the best. I feel like I should make a joke here but instead I’m going to say what I’m actually thinking, which is that March or April would be perfect for me, as I need something to motivate myself to keep not drinking/drinking to far below problem levels (if I’m capable of doing the latter, which I may not be, I don’t know) past January, and if I listen to the “I realized I was an alcoholic and quit” show while being back to my pre-2024 drinking levels, it will just make me feel guilty. But if I listen to it when I’m at a good place with that, even if it’s still hard and feels bad, it will be easier to enjoy. And you shouldn’t take comedy as your reason for big life decisions, but right now I’ll grasp at any motivational straws, and that might help. So, seriously, for real, thanks John.

I am aware that if I start using that as motivation not to drink, this will kick the level of parasociality in my John Robins fandom into a new gear, which is always a recipie for disappointment. If John Robins has sexually harassed anyone, I need that to come out now rather than later (I'm like... I mean I am kidding, I wouldn't start drinking again just because of John Robins, I'm just saying that at this point his comedy is part of what's keeping me not drinking, and the possibility of that sort of thing leading to disappointment is the first thing that comes to mind if I decide to believe in something). It's fine if a story comes out where he was just kind of a dick, his genuine unlikeabilty is one of my favourite things about him as a comedian. But please let it have limits. (Note: Yes I am working on actual coping mechanisms in real life and not just relying on comedy recordings, but it all helps.)

4) As I found earlier today when I was cutting up all those Textual Healing clips, it is really fucking annoying that those podcasts keep putting in the radio sting 0.0000000000003 nanoseconds after John or Elis finish talking, and regularly wait about -0.5 seconds by which I mean they’ll play the sting over some talking, so it’s hard to cut out clips without including the annoying sting. Which I guess is the point of broadcasting stings. Sorry that the John/Elis clips I cut out so frequently feature the broadcasting stings, it’s hard to cut around them.

[softguarnere]

Friends That I Barely Know

David Webster x reader

A/N: Two fics within 24 hours? Who am I? I'm procrastinating, actually, all of these assignments that I have to finish over break that are crushing me. School policy says that we're not technically allowed to be assigned work over breaks and holidays, but since I was given assignments to do on what was supposed to be my time off, I'm extremely bitter and feel justified in writing for BOB instead of writing about a book I did not understand :) I started this fic when I was going through a Webster phase, and it was just supposed to be a short reunion piece that took place during The Last Patrol, but then it got waaayyyy out of hand. My bad. (As always, this is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: the usual HBOWar stuff: language, blood, war, death, some angst, more clumsily written romance from yours truly (read: someone very inexperienced with romance)

Webster is nothing if not a writer.

At least, that's how he sees it. He spends more time than the average person narrating things in his mind as they happen, taking note of small details, stringing together sentences that he words and re-words until they're just right so he can put them on paper when he has the chance. And in all that, he's spent a lot of time writing about you.

He's mentioned you in letters to his parents, describing your beauty, your fearlessness in combat. But in his head he knows how he would write your speech cadence, how he would describe the endearing way you stick your tongue out of the corner of your mouth when you concentrate -- all of it. Yes, he could probably write the other people in E Company just as well, but he could devote pages upon pages of spilled ink to you. Because, he realized at some point after the D-Day jump, he's in love with you.

Being separated from the rest of Easy is hard. Webster is fine, really -- or for the most part -- and doesn't need to be taking up space in the hospital when there are people with worse injuries. At least, that's what he keeps trying to explain to the nurses, who probably think that he's going crazy with the way he keeps trying to get out of bed and the way he keeps talking about rejoining his company.

The only thing keeping him in check is writing. Even when there's no paper, just writing in his head, readying the words that wait for the moment they can be preserved on paper. And most of that writing is about you.

He wishes it were to you, but most of the letters he tries to send to anyone in E Company have been returned, or lost. He tries to tell himself that this is normal, that this is just what happens in wars, and that something isn't horribly wrong.

Finding out that he will be returned to Easy feels like a crushing weight has been taken off his chest. Returning to the friends he trained with back in Toccoa feels like returning home after being lost. The thought of seeing you, though -- the thought makes him almost giddy.

A giddiness that soon hardens into something too familiar when he's told to find second platoon. He tries not to feel the eyes and the scoffs that follow him from truck to truck as he tries to find a place with his company -- his company, who are all acting like they've never seen him before in their lives.

Rejection. He can name the sour feeling in his stomach because he felt it enough times during childhood. But much like the way that the rest of Easy is treating him, the feeling had become an afterthought that he had hoped to never come face to face with again.

"You must have liked that hospital," Liebgott is saying. "because we left Holland four months ago."

Why does he feel like he's on trial, having to build a defense for himself? "Well I wasn't there the whole time. There was rehabilitation, then the replacement depot --"

"Well, I'm not sure why you didn't bust out and try to help us in Bastogne, Web." Liebgott sniffs.

"I don't know how I would have done that."

"That's funny. Because Popeye found a way. So did Alley, right? Back in Holland." Beside him, Heffron nods in agreement; he won't even look at Webster. "And (Y/L/N) --"

"(Y/N)?" Cold dread floods Webster's stomach. You had been hurt and he hadn't been there.

Jackson shifts as the truck moves, like he's trying to put distance between himself and Webster, even if it means leaning into the man on his other side. "Sergeant (Y/L/N) is fine now."

"Sergeant?"

"Christ, Web," Liebgott scoffs. "You missed just about everything, and somehow you still seem shocked."

Not shocked, Webster wants to correct him but doesn't. He's just surprised by all the news coming his way all at once. And surprised that he hasn't seen you, especially if you're okay and a sergeant. Shouldn't you be with the platoon?

The order to move out drags him from his contemplation and into the present moment. (Because he can be present when he really tries; he's just very good at day dreaming and it's a habit.) The feeling of being judged sticks to him like paste all the way into the CP, but then at least the arrival of the new lieutenant takes some of the focus off him. Being relieved that the new replacement -- an actual replacement -- is taking the same flak as him shouldn't make him feel better, but he can't help it.

"We'll find a place for you, Webster," Lipton assures him.

And then it happens.

"Find a place for who?" Even after four months, he would know the sound of your voice anywhere. It's different, somehow, like the war has dulled some of it's shine, but it's still you. And then you walk into the room with Lieutenant Speirs and freeze, just like his heart does upon seeing you.

Back in Toccoa you had been a bright and shiny new-recruit, always smiling and laughing when you didn't have to be serious during training. But now the grime of Haguenau has settled onto your face, just like everyone else, and you look so serious.

Webster has pictured your reunion a thousand times. Any time that he needed strength back in the hospital, he would imagine seeing you among the company, how you would look up and catch his eye, break into a smile, and how the two of you would run to each other -- friends, reunited at last. (And then after that, he would finally tell you everything, because he knew back in the hospital exactly what he wanted to say. Maybe that sweet reunion would lead to something more than friendship.)

Instead, you stare at him with a blank face, like you can't believe what you're seeing. His heart fumbles, finally picking up the pace, and it begins to race; he's grateful that his ribcage holds it in place, or else it would have run to you without him.

"Webster?" You finally ask.

"(Y/N)," he breathes.

"Sergeant (Y/L/N)," Lieutenant Jones says, standing up even straighter than before. Webster could smack the guy on the back of the head for making it so formal, but he doesn't.

Your expression shifts. From beneath your helmet, he can see your eyebrows furrow in thought. You don't look happy; it's like a storm is clouding your face, making it hard to recognize you. "What are you doing here?"

"I just got back from the hospital," he answers for the hundredth time that day. "I'm waiting to see what platoon I'll --"

"No. I mean here."

"What does that mean?"

"(Y/N)," Speirs interrupts. "We're needed elsewhere. We need to go.”

“Right. Sorry, Captain.” You fix Webster with one last stern look, then grab some papers from Sergeant Lipton and follow Speirs from the room. Webster feels like he’s stuck until he hears the last of your footsteps echo away.

What are you doing here? Well, that certainly hadn’t been how he hoped you would react. And from the glances and pitying looks being thrown to him by others in the room, they weren’t expecting that kind of response either.

“Captain?” Webster says finally, both for the purpose of breaking the awkward silence and for piecing together more of what he has missed. “What happened to Captain Winters?”

“He runs the whole Battalion now,” Lipton says. There’s no elaboration. If Webster wants an explanation, he’ll have to find it elsewhere, because everyone starts in on a conversation about a patrol across the river – a conversation that’s he’s not included in, and that makes him feel awkward and guilty for hearing it, like he’s once again a child eavesdropping on his parent’s late night dinner parties, wishing that he were old enough to join in instead of observing from the fringes.

At least they tell him which platoon to join before he leaves.  

--

The news that you will be on the patrol just feels like one more trick of the universe to keep the two of you apart. No, not even a trick. From what information Webster has managed to glean from the others and piece together, some higher power must have it out for you, what with everything you have had to go through the past four months, and now this added to it.

Having rich parents gets you a lot of things in life. Webster learned that quickly over the years. Positions, memberships, almost anything. That was why he was so determined to not rely on their money and status once he joined the army. For once, he wanted to know what it was like to be just like everyone else. He sometimes felt like a journalist, stepping into a role and going undercover to get the inside scoop. But he enjoyed being amongst the other men and feeling like one of them. Not like his life before the war, where even when he was among people from similar backgrounds, he felt like he was only being tolerated.

So far he has spent the war decidedly not chasing any promotions or volunteering for things that might get him noticed. He doesn’t want to stick out, but he also doesn’t want to be left behind; there is a grey area that he has learned to operate in in order to survive the military. Now, though . . . Now is different.

“His German is just as good as mine,” Liebgott had spat as they made their way out of the briefing. And before Webster really had time to consider what he was doing, he was marching up to Winters and asking to be the translator on the patrol. And, to his relief –

“Liebgott,” Winters had called as you and the man in question start to walk by. Good, Webster thinks. There’s no need for three translators on the patrol. You’ll be safely on this side of the river . . . But then he catches what Winters is saying, and it’s not to you. “You aren’t needed for the patrol tonight.”

Webster’s heart drops. Liebgott nods, thanks Winters, and shoots Webster a wink before leading you off, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you go. Once again, your expression contorts into one of confusion and hurt as you cast him a horrified look before allowing Liebgott to lead you away.

Liebgott’s arm stays around your shoulder as you walk out of sight. You two had always gotten along, but when had that happened? (Or had it happened?) Just one more thing that he had missed in four months. His heart feels even heavier.

He had just been trying to help you, but he’s left standing in the street, feeling like he’s just done some sort of irreparable damage.

--

“Jackson, listen to me! You’re not gonna die!” Doc Roe is trying to reassure the boy on the table while simultaneously keeping him still and examining his wounds. The room around him has descended into pure chaos as he tries to help the boy in front of him, which is not the ideal condition to work under.

The German prisoners are yelling, Easy men are having to hold back their fellow soldiers from rushing them. People are trying to help Doc Roe and to hold Jackson down while others still stand towards the corners of the room, eyes wide as they try to take it all in and decide what to do.

Your gentle fingers card themselves through Jackson’s hair while you whisper reassurances to him. Under better circumstances, Webster could pen whole verses about your duality – how you can fearlessly take charge in combat, but also be a gentle beacon of hope for soldiers who need it in their final moments.

“Jackson, you’re gonna be alright buddy,” Webster tries to reassure the boy on the table as he convulses. “It’s gonna be okay. Just stay still – “

The lies drip from his tongue until the second that the nineteen-year-old goes still in front of everyone. The already foul mood in the room becomes even heavier. You help Roe and a few others take the body away, and then you disappear.

There is no sleep for anyone. Not on a night like this. The first rays of sunlight streak themselves across the sky soon after anyway, and then everyone is crowding themselves into a room to meet with Winters. Webster barely takes in anything that’s said, he’s so busy trying to read your guarded expression.

Everyone leaves the room in a slightly better mood than when they entered, the promise of a good day of rest ahead of them. There’s a bunk somewhere calling his name, and Webster knows that he should get some sleep, but after everything that has happened, he really just needs a minute alone to register it all. He’ll probably crash at some point later in the day.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by a hand latching onto his elbow, bringing him to a halt. Other soldiers push their way out of the room as they head towards the beds that they claimed as their own, but you tilt your head down a hallway. Something heavy rests in your eyes. You don’t look disappointed or angry anymore. Defeated and tired, maybe, but no longer like you want to slap him for just existing.

Webster follows you down the hallway, painfully aware of the echoing of his and your footsteps as they trail off from the sounds of the others. You push open a door at the end of the hallway and nod, beckoning Webster to enter before you shut it behind you.

The bedroom is small, but at least the bed looks decent, compared to some of the bunks with paper thin mattresses with the springs poking out that he saw some of the others lounging on yesterday. But then again, after what he read about Easy experiencing in Bastogne, anything other than a whole in the ground probably feels like sleeping in a palace. He’s about to wonder aloud whose room this is when it hits him – Sergeant (Y/L/N); getting your own room is now one of the perks of your new rank.

He draws a breath to speak, but you beat him to it. Once you've closed the door, you keep your hand upon it, leaning heavily onto it and not meeting his eyes when you ask, “What are you doing here? Why did you come back?”

There’s that question again. Maybe it would hurt less if you stomped on his foot and ran off laughing. Always too expressive for his own good, he can’t keep the hurt out of his voice when he quietly replies, “The hospital let me go.”

“No, I mean – “ You turn abruptly, and the first thing that he notices are the tears brimming in your eyes. You wipe at them, but to no avail. “Christ. Why did you let them? You would have been better off staying there.”

“Did you not want me to come back?”

“Of course I wanted you to come back! Every day after they took you to the hospital, I wanted you to come back. Then your letters stopped coming and mine started getting sent back unopened because we were moving around so much, and I worried for you. But then with everything that happened in Bastogne, I told myself that at least you were safe. At least you were warm and had food and were away from the line. If it had to be one of us, I was glad to be the one living through that hell because you got to be safe.”

With every word, his heart feels heavier. “You didn’t think I could handle Bastogne?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Your sigh comes out as more of a strangled cry, and now the tears that you’ve been trying to hold back stream down your cheeks in angry rivulets. “Not all of us are writers, and I can’t make the words do what I want them to. I’m trying to say that I’m glad it was me, because if something had happened to you, or if I had to see you miserable, it would have broken me. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. But knowing that you were okay gave me a reason to keep going. To keep fighting.”

“So that’s what you meant when you asked why I was here?”

“Now you’re in just as much danger as me.”

For as good as Webster might be with words, he can’t find the right ones for this. Instead, he takes a tentative step towards you. He’s only just started to open his arms when you charge towards him, barreling into his arms and wrapping yours around him as you let out a sob into his shoulder.

As close as you had been earlier in the war, as tight as your friendship was and as open as you were with each other, Webster has never actually seen you cry. Something about it is very vulnerable; it’s like you have handed him your exposed heart and he has to show you – wants to show you – that you can trust him to hang onto it.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),” he whispers, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m not in danger.”

“You’re in a war zone,” you sob.

“We’re in a war zone,” he corrects gently. “We’re here together. You don’t need to worry about me, okay? Nothing is going to happen to either of us. We’ll be fine.”

“You can’t promise that.” You’re right. Making promises in a place like this is like that old saying about telling God your plans to make Him laugh. Webster isn’t trying to tempt the cruel, cold hand of fate; he’s just trying to comfort you. Still, his father always taught him that a man is only as good as his word, and Webster always carries a full arsenal of those. He will use as many of his best ones as he can to show you that his intentions are good.

“It’s not a promise – it’s a piece of hope. Do you know why we’ll be fine?”

You shake your head against his shoulder.

“Because now we have each other,” he explains. “I’ll watch your back, and you’ll watch mine. Just like we used to.”

“Some good that did. I let you get shot in the leg.”

Webster freezes. “That wasn’t your fault, (Y/N).” God, have you been blaming yourself for that the whole time? Is that why you wanted him away from the line – to guarantee that he wouldn’t be hurt on your watch? “Nothing that happened was your fault.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. You pull back a bit, still keeping your arms around him, but leaning away enough that you can look into each other’s eyes. “I wish we had reunited differently.”

He does too, but he doesn’t want to make you feel worse, especially when he’s starting to understand your actions. Gently, he wipes away a fresh tear that’s running down your cheek. “It’s alright. All these months, I’ve just wanted to run to you and hug you, and I got to in the end.”

You hesitate, and he feels his face heat up as he wonders if he chose the wrong words. Instead, you bring your hand up to his cheek. He sees you swallow back your tears and sees your breath hitch.

“Well I’ve wanted to do this.” You lean in slightly, then pause, like you’re asking for permission. Webster’s own heart stumbles as he realizes what’s happening, and he nods, and then closes his eyes as he leans in for your lips to settle over his.

The kiss is salty from your tears, but it’s more tender and welcoming than anything he’s experienced before. When you pull away, your eyes are cast down.

“Sorry, I – “

“Don’t apologize,” he assures you, unable to help the smile that’s pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve wanted it too.”

Your smile is watery, and the sound you make is somewhere between a giddy laugh and another sob, but you lean into his shoulder again, hugging him tight. “God, David. I’m happy you’re back, truly.”

David. For so long he’s been nothing but Webster. It’s as if you’ve restored some piece of who he was in a past life. But he’s not that man anymore. When you call him David, it’s as if he’s been re-christened into something new – something better, something more than he once was.

“I’m glad I’m back, too. And that we’re together.” When you look up at him again, he caresses your cheek, and his heart feels full when you lean into his touch; he’s imagined things like this before, yes, but it’s sweeter to actually experience it. “And don’t worry about me, okay? We have each other now.”

“We have each other again,” you agree.

After all, what more can someone in a war zone ask for than to have somebody who cares about them by their side, watching their back?

[solarwynd]

https://www.tumblr.com/solarwynd/736172349764878336/httpswwwtumblrcomsolarwynd736164064837943296?source=share

last time I remember him saying something real about jimin on live was early 2021 when he was asked about tmi (not even ab jm) and said he stole his food while hanging out lol, 2021 was also the last year we saw them being very close friends

tbh I wouldn't mind him namedropping jimin on every live if at least his in person behavior matched that "interest" shippers say he has for him. Like... in tae's case he talks about jk on every live sometimes even makes up scenarios about him and is very annoying but at least he maintains the same attitude when they are in the same room, he doesn't ignore him or show any bad attitude towards him. while jk may not namedrop any of the other members but is always giggles and heart eyes when being with them but he can't go one group live without showing how annoyed he is by jm and feeding the "harassed" agenda.

about the sasaeng topic... I feel terribly but I just can't feel bad for him anymore. I know the stalker is the one that should be blamed and I do but man you literally said in one of your lives that whoever recognized you on the street was welcomed to approach you then someone takes your words for real and you start crying ab privacy and stuff? what were you expecting to happen? feeding yns and keeping your life private are two things that cannot coexist and you are very aware of that, this is the same man from a few years ago that showed up on social media every 3 months and we all wanted to fight for cause it was very unfair that a boy who made such a big effort to have a normal life would be bother by strangers on the phone. now he lives a reality show and pretends things not to get worse

“tbh I wouldn't mind him namedropping jimin on every live if at least his in person behavior matched that "interest" shippers say he has for him.”

Said the same exact thing but not with shippers, like how he acts with his other 97 line friends at least, cause he hangs out with them more than anything now. And I’m not saying that he needs to hang out with jm every waking minute to solidify their friendship, but outside of pre made schedules they’re not together at all like they use to be so how else am I supposed to view it?

I don’t think jk is truly “annoyed” by jm. I became an army early 2018 and I feel like those two were extremely close that year. jk was probably more touchy than jm was. Ultimately I think jk picks and chooses when he wants to reciprocates the affection cause just this past live the 4 of them did, he was very touchy on jm. And I think that (paired with shippers warped mentalities) makes it come off like it’s one sided since jm’s a very affectionate person.

“but man you literally said in one of your lives that whoever recognized you on the street was welcomed to approach you then someone takes your words for real and you start crying ab privacy and stuff?”

-😬 Damn I forgot he said that. Granted I do feel like he meant when he’s out and about in public not standing outside his house (still dumb) but I agree with the feeding y/ns and keeping his privacy not being able to coexist cause it’s the truth. He’s gonna have to decide which is more important eventually though. Being these peoples’ “best friend” or setting more strict boundaries.

[souldivided]

finally coming to terms with the idea that i might be plural. if i am i think there’s only one other guy in here. he’s kind of like me when i was in high school so he would be a snapshot (i’ve been spending the day on pluralpedia). but it’s just him and me and i am the original. i’m going to give some backstory on relevant stuff i guess.

first a note: the blog name is not supposed to be related or anything, i don’t believe in the concept of souls for myself. it’s just a username i’ve been squatting on for awhile and thought i could use it here. just to be silly. thanks

i have ID’ed as a dog therian since around 2017. i learned about tulpas through the therian community but was not sure about my beliefs and if they were for me. i was ultimately skeptical of them, but when i had a mental health episode i tried to create some, a giant sentient teddy bear and a fictional character that i won’t be identifying because it embarrasses me. these two acted as my protectors and helped encourage me to do basic tasks for awhile, but ultimately they were just akin to imaginary friends as they were outside my body and i do not take them seriously.

about a year ago i started taking medication for my ocd. most weird mental health related things in my youth i have attributed to that since i’ve felt more “normal” since starting it.

however, there is another guy in here, who as previously mentioned is similar to how i was in high school. he does not talk to me at all so it is really hard for me to decide if he is actually there. he only comes out when i’ve taken too much emotional stress and his purpose is to be pissed off for me. his main thing is lashing out at people but he is very quiet beforehand, i don’t notice when he switches in because he just sits there fuming until he lashes out. he retreats once i’ve calmed down and i don’t know where he goes, i believe he is there in the headspace(?) but i can’t access it or communicate with him except when he is out. i have a huge lack of knowledge about him but for some reason know some mundane things, like his music tastes (which are part of mine, i like a lot of different music and i can tell that he likes 90s grunge and post-punk, which i like but i like other stuff too. here he differs from how i was in high school because i didn’t listen to that). i also know he likes skateboarding. i don’t skate but i think it’s cool. ironically the only times i’ve ever tried however, it was like the opposite feeling to what i normally get from him. very happy and excited. it’s not something i’m super into but i might try to learn since he likes it so much. more generic stuff like name, age, sexuality, i don’t really know. he is definitely a masculine presence like how i viewed myself back then, though now i am genderfluid. i think that he’s 15-17 in age and i assume him to be bisexual because i was, but he might be straight idk. i call him Jason because it seems sort of right. during that time in my life i used j names, never that one though.

here is picrews of us, me on the left and him on the right. i won’t be talking much about myself or giving my real name here for privacy reasons, but no one who knows me knows about Jason so whatever

so yeah that is my story if anyone who knows more about plurality or systems than me wants to comment or DM me i would REALLY appreciate it

[honeyviscera]

i would like to hear the rant !!

ALRIGHT so. last summer im working for a summer camp, and in the training phase us staff members are all trying to get to know each other yknow and the higher-ups leading the training seminars and stuff are asking for us to go around and share names and pronouns. and see at the beginning of the summer i was like. trying to figure out what exactly is going on with my gender like. i know something's a bit off but im not sure how i want to express that, and like im also not super ready to share that with everyone.

and just in general, im not super loud about my queerness, and it's taken me a while to become even somewhat comfortable being out as queer irl. but anyways back to the story.

so at this point im like, to myself well, im still okay with she/her, and im not super ready to add they/them or anything like that, so i'll just say im ocean, she/her. (using ocean here in place of my real name, you get it.) anyways we were asked this in the morning, and i was fine saying it then. but then every time a new presenter for a new section of the training would come in, all of us would have to go around and introduce ourselves to them again. hi, im ocean, she/her. now im becoming increasingly uncomfortable with this, because i present pretty femme, i have a high voice, tits, all that, so i just know that the box im being put in by everyone when i, afab, say my pronouns are she/her, is "cis". i am being read as cis. and i have to repeat myself maybe five times in one day. but it gets worse.

now all of this comes to a head when the whole entire staff comes into our training area and. you know the icebreaker game that's like. everyone stands in a circle and says their name and what they're bringing to our imaginary "picnic" and the next person has to say everyone before and add their own? ie:

person 1: im sally and im bringing apples! person 2: that's sally and she's bringing apples, and im joe and im bringing bread. person 3: sally brings apples, joe brings bread, and i'm lily and im bringing pie 4: sally apples joe bread lily pie and im wally and im bringing juice

and so on all around the circle. the goal of this game is to get to know everyone's names. now we were going to do this, but somebody spoke up and suggested that instead of picnic offerings, we say our pronouns.

oh.

my.

god.

so i had to listen to everyone during that game (which we played TWICE bc the group was so large so we had to split into 2 groups and then switch) look me in the eyes and say ocean, she/her. over and over again. ocean. she/her. ocean. she/her. ocean. she/her. and i had to say ocean, she/her. so. many. times. that is definitely the most times i have ever had to say my pronouns in a single day ever.

see, i usually never experience dysphoria. im very comfortable with how i look, sound, dress, act, and present. like i am very comfortable with myself. dysphoria is not a thing i normally experience. but that day for the first time, having to say my pronouns over. and over. and over again i just. i felt so so viscerally wrong. i knew everyone was reading me as cis and i didn't want that.

and it didn't stop there bc the staff had a discord server to communicate over the summer about work related stuff, and the requirement was for you to put your server nickname as [name] [set of pronouns]. a month into looking at my name with she/her attached to it i got so fucking fed up that i changed it to she/they on impulse and that's how my summer job basically forced me to out myself before i was super ready.

dear fucking god. i know that sharing your pronouns is supposed to make spaces more welcoming, but all that this fucking did was make me feel violated and dysphoric, for the first time in my fucking life. i hate that i was required to share my pronouns and there were so many better ways to go about this. one of my coworkers and i were talking about this later in the summer (they also use she/they publicly) and she agreed with me that the "pronoun game" was horrible and that she was going to make a complaint about it bc it was so unnecessary.

AUGH.