#I have to relearn how to be a person because no adult who had control over my life was kind to me

[nappingpaperclip]

taking every parent by the shoulders and shaking them aggressively

Yelling at/threatening/hitting your child does nothing but make them scared of you

Yelling at your child won’t make them stop crying

Yelling at your child won’t stop their bad behavior

Stop being mean to your fucking kids

Stop trying to make your kids be who you wanted to be, they are their own person and your job is to cultivate that person

Stop emotionally checking out after your kids hit puberty!

Your kids did not ask to be born, you may not have either but you chose to keep them

I don’t care how tired, broke or, down you are, if you take it out on your child you are a piece of shit and your kid is going to grow up to resent you for it

If you feel the need to hit your kids for having emotions or acting badly you did not “turn out fine” being scared of your parents is not normal!

BE THE PARENT YOU WISH YOUR PARENTS WERE

And if you find yourself struggling to keep calm: GET HELP FOR IT! Your kids should not have to bear the brunt of your unresolved issues!

[choicesmc]

the promised sawtooth mini essay <3

The absolute worst part of turning was the out of control emotions. Specifically that the entire period thrusts him right back to being a grade schooler, barely six maybe seven years old, and being completely unable to control any of his actions. 

I don’t think anyone in the pack knows Sawtooth has ODD and, for the most part, it’s pretty easy to hide. By the time they were entering college, Sawtooth has years of therapy behind them, their parents have been receiving parenting lessons for years, and he has a boatload of coping mechanisms to make certain their oppositional defiant disorder doesn’t get upgraded to full on anti-social disorder. It’s doable to get through a day, then a week, then a month, without major incidents and the things that do occur –say vindictive episodes– they’re easily brushed off as typical college craziness. 

Plus, Sawtooth doesn’t go out of his way to tell others. It’s not like a fun fact they can’t wait to whip out so as long as no one asks, no one knows. 

Then they become a werewolf and can’t fucking control anything anymore. It’s ridiculous. Every strategy, every coping method, every fucking tool he’s kept in his disposal just vanishes. Even worse? It’s not like anyone in the pack has been studying up on how to keep consistent, reasonable discipline that focuses on reinforcing positive behavior instead of punishing unwanted ones. 

And even if someone, by miracle, had it wouldn’t have helped. If anything, it’d reinforce Sawtooth’s feeling of helplessness. They already feel like a child. They don’t need someone to take up the role of their parent. Someone their own age and graduating class having to discipline him like a naughty child who needs to learn better does not help actually. 

Sawtooth knows this. But knowing something doesn’t help when he finds himself lashing out at the most asinine questions, when he’s cursing out a packmate over a basic slight, when they’re plotting actual fucking revenge over a snoring neighbor. 

Adding into the mix, Sawtooth doesn’t have a therapist right now. When he transferred to Woosley, they made the difficult decision to stop holding sessions with their therapist. Both of them agreed that Sawtooth could hold his own at this point and Sawtooth themself was eager to be “independent” (<- that’s how 18 year old them saw it). Sure, they know they can start their sessions again with a couple texts but… they can’t explain why they need to relearn years of stuff, why he’s practically at ground zero, and (most importantly)... it feeds their irritation. 

A second axle on this nightmare period relates directly to his gender. Sawtooth is demiboy. Very much emphasis on the boy part. He doesn’t see himself in manhood, they seem themselves in boyhood. Mischief, innocence, naive responsibility –these are the things that have been denied to Sawtooth from childhood. They spent most of their time being seen as an adult. Oppositional defiant disorder only became his prognosis because given children personality disorders is Not A Good Thing so most medical professionals don’t see their ODD as just that. They see it as lurking antisocial personality disorder and retroactively pin adult intentions to his childish actions. 

And now Sawtooth is back to that stage except this time they are an adult. 

And it fucking sucks.  

[nightmaretour]

"You can't have an opinion because you're sheltered and it's all first world problems!!!"

My good bro up until a year and a half ago I had been homeless for years on end as a disabled trans person. Most of my time housed as an adult was spent living in a damn near derelict house with 7 other people, all of whom (including me) were suffering with dangerous addictions, some of whom were violent. I have had two separate attempts made on my life, and been assaulted more times than I can count. I lived for three months on nothing but a slice of white bread a day, and another 5 on nothing but expired instant noodles a shop owner around the corner would give to us instead of throwing them away. I went through all of this while disabled due to an illness that nearly killed me when I was 13 years old. An illness that left me in constant pain, an illness that fucked me up so bad that I had to-relearn to eat solid food without choking and control when I go to the bathroom.

I have infinitely more experience with the "real world" than your abled ass, munching on expensive vegan meals in the comfort of your parents' home and furiously tapping away on your brand new iPhone 14 about how the evil cripples who need technology to survive are clearly responsible for all oppression ever so it's okay if we die actually

[tacthescribbler]

Wanted to give my two cents on this. I’m prone to bouts of hopelessness when I hear disheartening news, and it’s really hard to pull myself out of that mire sometimes. To make it worse, I am a writer who doesn’t write, and an artist who doesn’t draw. Not because of AI or anything like that. Just because I struggle to find the motivation most days. I work my 8 hours, I come home, and I try to decompress despite home circumstances that don’t really allow it (that’s a pity party for another time). By the time I feel ready to create, it’s bed time. But I also need let my little ray of hopeless optimism shine here. I’m working on my financial situation so I can get my own place and move out of this apartment, away from my roommate, who also happens to be my adult-aged sibling. I prefer living alone and I know it will help me decompress more effectively in the evenings, which will give me a better chance at writing and drawing. Furthermore, my roommate tossed the last straw on the camel’s back this past week with behaviors that have honestly pissed me off. There are things we’ve talked about that change for a few weeks, or maybe a couple of months, and then go right back to “normal.” But when they hit me with that last straw, I had several minutes of “so pissed off and frustrated I was on the verge of tears,” but then I had a realization. Despite the fact that the past four years of unreliable contribution to rent, and despite the erratic laundry schedule, and despite the not taking care of my cookware or cleaning up after themself, and despite the constant presence of another person in my space because they won’t fucking leave the apartment except for their tiny amount of work they do at their job... I am still here. I am enough. I’ve paid the rent every month. I’ve kept my sanity (barely, but still). I’ve cleaned up when needed. I’ve walked the dog and showered and gotten myself dressed and fed myself. I’m still here. But the point is this: I know shit’s fucked. But the stories living in my head can’t be told my anyone else, and they won’t leave me alone until I at least try. And if I want to do that, I need to keep trudging. And I will. Sorry if this doesn’t all make sense, but what I’m trying to say is that the joy of something can be motivation enough. I’ve wanted to relearn how to draw for years and my perfectionism has been a major obstacle, right next to feeling like I don’t have the time or energy to practice. But you know, I bookmarked a tweet that @xannador posted on their Twitter. It was a set of 3 silhouettes, presumably of characters from a comic that they’d made previously. I had read that comic and I knew I needed to start drawing again. But all it took was those 3 silhouettes to make me realize that the only things stopping me is me. I determined I would kick my gods-be-damned perfectionism in the teeth. And I would practice. And I will do so. I will relearn to draw. I will get back into writing. There are a lot of people who will undoubtedly take the easy way out (like my roommate) by doing the barest of the bare minimum, maybe even less than that. Those are the people who will take the cheap, easy, AI solution. And we can’t control those people. But we can control ourselves. I could go on and on, but we all have something inside us that makes us tick. For my bestie, it’s drawing. She’s an amazing artist, and if everything else in the world turned to dust, she’d still be drawing. I’d still be thinking up stories. If there’s something you’re meant to do, do it. The rest of the world will either catch on or miss out. But you can’t stop being you for that. You are enough, even when it doesn’t feel like it. You are enough, even when the world tells you that you’re not. You. Are. Enough.

Heya, recently AI art as a whole has gotten me very discouraged and down about being an artist, and I was wondering how you battle the encroaching dread this all causes? I hate how disrespected artist have been these past few years, with NFTs and now this, but it feels like an insurmountable ocean to wade through alone

I really wish I had some secret formula that could help and motivate you and make everything easier... But I don't.

I'm really just a spiteful asshole, who loves drawing and doesn't know when to quit. That's it.

And I keep going, because I refuse to even just imagine a world without the joy of creating. Ironically, I found out that it is exactly this spiteful approach, that seems to inspire a lot of people. <3 Wouldn't have guessed that THIS side of me would ever be useful. <3

[synesindri]

dvd commentary:

He turns twenty-one.

They go to a bar to celebrate. Adam orders a sex on the beach because when he was seventeen he decided that would be a funny drink to buy as an adult of legal drinking age.

Nick orders a shirley temple. Adam laughs.

Then he asks the bartender to give his cocktail to somebody who looks like they’d appreciate it, and orders himself a shirley temple too.

from losing my religion?

oh yay! thank you 💕(losing my religion is here, for anyone interested!)

so, this is one of those moments that got shoved in between heavier/more immediately relevant sections in this story for the sake of breaking it up a bit, but that ended up contributing to my feelings about this series as a whole tbh. i did not intend for this series to have much at all to do with age, but it has ended up being a lot about the weird process of understanding that life stages exist while simultaneously having experiences that don't fit within a normal human life narrative at all. this is one of the moments where that is at the forefront imo.

so here, adam remembers being 17 and having a pretty standard 17yo opinion that 'sex on the beach' is a hilarious name for a drink (which, i mean, he's not wrong lol), while having little to no experience with either alcohol or sex. and he's now 21, which is a meaningful birthday in normal american life, and he recognizes that, but because he has had the VERY atypical experiences of dying and being resurrected and being possessed by an archangel etc etc, he is leaning heavily on his teenage opinions about what turning 21 means, rather than having updated views about it. he has been drinking like an adult for about a year by this point — probably daily, not really for fun, not in excess because he has to be in control of himself and able to intervene if nick needs him to, just as a way to take the edge off of how weird literally everything about his life is — there isn't a lot of mystery left for him about alcohol. he's at this bar, ordering a drink with a funny name not with a group of college students like how he imagined it when he was younger, but with his equally archangel-fried middle aged ?? buddy ?? who likely remembers the dumb-drinks rite of passage but is not going to giggle about it like somebody who is fresh to this kind of scene would. nick has done that life era, and the dinner-party-wine-drinking era adam might or might not ever experience, and the drinking-to-take-the-edge-off era adam has been going through since stull happened, and the 'could you do me a favor there satan and remind me to quit drinking before i go to bed' era that is relatable to literally nobody at all, and is now in his 'forget booze, i'm gonna have a soda and mind my business' era lol.

and that would be disappointing, if adam at 21 was the way adam at 17 expected he would be. that version of 21yo adam would think it was silly if one of the friends taking him out for his birthday ordered a little kid drink like a shirley temple (not even a coke or a virgin margarita or something more standard for a non-drinking adult; a shirley temple), so he laughs because he's still using that outdated social script. but like, actually, he is not the 21yo person his 17yo self imagined he would be, and he gets why nick doesn't drink anymore. and he maybe kind of gets that ordering a shirley temple is pretty on par with ordering a sex on the beach as far as getting funny drinks goes (i often leave nick's pov somewhat opaque in these stories but since this is director's commentary, i will divulge that nick's shirley temple choice was a dumb little on-purpose joke for himself whether or not adam got it). and they both might even get it that part of the work they're both doing is relearning to be people very much from the bottom up, and that part of that is treating themselves like little kids sometimes. maturity has kind of lost its meaning for them, but the most ~mature choice at this point is not necessarily the "yay i'm 21" young adult drink, or the "whiskey and soda before bed" more jaded adult drink, or the sensible grown-up cocktail alternative, but is actually the thing that is most like babying themselves.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

I Ain’t A Judas (part two)

[Off-West End]

TW: Blood

-------------------------------------

Lynn had seen her fair share of gruesome injuries in her time, both as an active sports player and gym coach. 

When she was on her high school’s wrestling team, she vividly remembered throwing her (male, mind you) opponent to the ground and hearing the distinct sound of bones cracking. There was something haunting about being on top of a person while their skeleton seemed to fold inward, having her ear so close to that sickening snap. The resulting nightmare-inducing scream was actually a mercy to the other noise.

She had scrambled off of the boy, backing away on her hands and knees like she was a scared animal. Her opponent must have landed wrong when she pinned him because his knee was bent at an unnatural angle and he was screaming bloody murder. Someone in the audience threw up. Someone else fainted. The boy’s parents rushed over to him and began yelling.

The parents had tried to sue Lynn for the broken leg, but the school defended her, saying it wasn’t her fault and injuries were to be expected in sports. She obtained a title of sorts, being one of the most feared wrestlers in the district. She took it with honor, despite its double-edged outcomes.

The experience desensitized her to all types of gore, but not without a price. For a while, she was sensitive to any sound that resembled snapping bones. Even a foot stepping on a twig was enough to bring back the memory of the boy and the broken leg. She got over it eventually, but at the time, it had been hell.

Injuries became repetitive after that. Broken arms, broken legs, broken noses- she saw it all when she became a coach. They always went the same way, too- that damned snapping sound, a limb bent at an angle that wasn’t normal, screaming that was so loud it could probably break the sound barrier, everyone in the general vicinity panicking like chickens with their heads cut off. Not that Lynn blamed them for such a reaction; she supposed it wasn’t ever the same after you were chest-to-chest with someone when the injury happened.

But in sports, broken bones were the worst thing that could be inflicted upon someone. Scratches, bruises, black eyes, bloody noses, even the broken bones themselves to some extent were nothing compared to other horrors. So as the repetition of injuries continued its cycle, Lynn believed nothing could get worse than that time back in high school.

And then she entered the darkened White bungalow and saw Carrie on the ground, surrounded by blood and covered in blood and frothing up blood, and that way of thinking was thrown out the window.

This. This was worse.

Lynn used to think that the screaming was the worst part of any injury, regardless of severity. That elongated, guttural sound of agony that the victim didn’t have the power to mute or muffle, bearing completely raw emotion, ripped out from the throat without control or consent. 

But as Lynn had knelt above Carrie White’s body, she now knew that the screaming was a mercy. The silence was the real thing that she should have been fearing all these years.

The screaming, at least, as awful as it was, meant the victim was alive. Even with their mind clouded with agony, they were sentient enough to even feel that agony. They were there, they knew, they could feel.

Carrie White was not, did not, could not.

The silence did not bring serenity. The silence did not bring peace. The silence brought panic- overwhelming, blood-rushing panic that made Lynn feel like she was standing in the middle of a rushing white water river, battered by the current. It made everything fall away into little broken pieces that would never be able to form its proper puzzle ever again. It made her feel true, unadulterated, unbridled terror for the first time since she was sixteen and in a gymnasium that smelled of salt and sweat with another kid screaming his heart out right beneath her.

It made her feel helpless.

And then, as if a giant log had been hurled from the raging river of dread and hit her in the face, awareness came rushing back to her. She stopped the flow of tears that she had not been able to fight back in those initial moments of hysteria and got her head on straight. 

Sue was there, holding Carrie’s body close to her chest. Margaret was there, too, face-down on the floor, unmoving, but Lynn could have hardly cared. Her focus was entirely on the young girl bleeding all over the place before her.

The cause of that bleeding didn’t feel real, either.

  “Her throat. She slit her throat.”

Lynn remembered watching something on TV, one of those cookiecutter crime shows that had been copy and pasted dozens of times before, saying something about how a throat wound could bleed out within minutes, if not seconds. She cursed her school training for not teaching her how to deal with this, opting instead to make all the teachers relearn the heimlich maneuver and CPR for the hundredth time in a row.

When she took Carrie’s small, shaking body into her arms, she discovered something worse than the silence. The gurgling. That wet, foamy sound that gargled in the back of Carrie’s throat, so desperate for proper articulation and enunciation, choked back by a torrent of her own blood. It may have meant she was still alive and fighting, but Lynn much preferred the silence.

Unwrapping Sue’s shirt from around Carrie’s neck and actually gazing upon the wound felt like a physical knife against Lynn’s throat. She had never been one of those people who could feel pain from watching others get hurt, and yet, in that moment of raw horror, she swore she could feel her own flesh being sliced open, muscles and tendons snapping away like weak thread, vessels punctured and windpipe split, slowly filling her lungs with her own blood, drowning her, restricting breathing--and then she realized she wasn’t breathing. Not while she looked at the gash. It used its severed arteries as a noose and strangled her, so she strangled it back.

Even with the hideous green and brown curtains wrapped around the wound like bulky bandages, Carrie’s neck was still so small. Lynn’s hands were so large. She felt like she was trying to asphyxiate a baby bird.

Lynn realized then that the experience in the gym was not the most horrific thing she had ever witnessed. At least she was a teenager when it happened. Being an adult and squeezing onto a child’s slashed open throat hurt in more ways than she could truly express. There was just something so fucking terrifying about being the one to pinch gushing blood vessels closed, to be the hands around a dying girl’s throat, to be the one and only defining factor to if that girl would survive the night. Even though she knew it had to be done, Lynn wanted to cut her hands off for the things they had done in those horrifying six minutes before the ambulance arrived.

Carrie’s eyes had looked so dull, so lifeless. It was a stark contrast to half an hour before she was bleeding out all over the place, when they were full of joy and life.

Lynn had never seen Carrie so happy before. She had never seen her dance, either, which made everything pre-blood dump even better. Carrie looked like a normal teenage girl, having fun at her school prom, being treated as she should have been all these years.

Lynn remembered, clear as day, those hours before the destruction.

Carrie had truly stuck out like a sore thumb in the Prom, but not in the way that any of her bullies had been expecting. The dress she wore, hand-sewn herself she had said, was soft pink and seemed to glitter in the overhead lights. Her red hair was brushed back to neatness, though that one iconic lock of bangs still dangled in front of her left eye. When they had spotted each other, Lynn was endeared to watch Carrie rip away from Tommy and run over to her in her heels. 

  “Miss Gardener, you look incredible!” Carrie had exclaimed.

  “Thank you, Carrie,” Lynn said. “You look beautiful.” As shy and modest as always, Carrie ducked her head and said, “Oh, thank you.”

Tommy had then walked over to them. “Miss Gardener, I don’t think I would ever see you in a dress.”

Lynn gave him a sharp look. “Tommy.” 

Tommy cleared his throat. “You guys want some punch? I heard Stokes and Freddy spiked it.”

  “Oh no,” Carrie said in a woebegone voice. “Isn’t it dangerous to drink spikes? What if someone chokes?”

  “Really?” Lynn said to Tommy at the same time.

Tommy had laughed, then noticed Lynn’s unamused, deadpan expression. He stopped instantly.

  “Uh-- No.” He said. “I’m joking.” He rubbed his palms on his black pants. “I’m going to get us some of that punch! Which is not spiked!”

Lynn rolled his eyes as he skittered away, then turned her attention back to Carrie. She looked so amazed as she gazed around the Prom, like it was the nicest event she had ever been to.

She and Carrie had talked until Tommy came back, but it wasn’t the last she would see of the girl. She chatted with her several times during the night, even danced with her on a few occasions. It was nice to see her smile after everything.

But of course, it had been ruined. Would Carrie ever get to experience true bliss without someone taking it away from her?

The memory of the blood dump had brought Lynn back to the present, to the blood on her hands on that moment. Every time she would lift them long enough for Carrie to get air, more would gush out, and she slammed them back into place every time, desperate to halt the flow. She wouldn’t have taken them away at all if Carrie wouldn’t have suffocated from the pressure on her neck. 

Lynn thought about Chris when she was effectively strangling Carrie. Her own will was keeping her from adding the proper weight to Carrie’s neck, so she made herself angry to compensate for the thing she really didn’t want to do.

How could anyone be so cruel? Especially to someone who didn’t deserve such treatment? Lynn imagined it was Chris beneath her hands, and that made her squeeze tighter.

She knew it had been Chris, and not just because of her gut feeling. Norma had told her.

During the panic of laughter and shock and confusion after the blood dump, Lynn had found Norma Watson, Chris’s second-in-command, in the crowd. For a moment, she didn’t know if it was even really her, as she wasn’t used to seeing her without her trademarked red backwards hat, but then recognized her snarky face and grappled onto her with her nails dug in. However, when Norma looked at her, her face was anything but snarky. It was horrified.

  “What happened?” Lynn had demanded. “Who did this?”

  “Chris,” Norma told her instantly. She looked back to the stage, to the blood dripping off the edge. “I-I didn’t know it was blood…”

  “What?”

Norma shook her head, mouth hanging open.

  “Norma!” Lynn dug her nails in further. She didn’t care if it got her fired, she had to know. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Norma looked back at her, wide-eyed and sickened. “I didn’t know it was real blood.” She said. “Chris-- she said it was red water. Just dyed with food coloring. I didn’t think she would--”

Lynn had released her, noticing that Carrie was now gone. She couldn’t stick around any longer. 

Before she rushed away, she could have sworn she faintly heard Norma utter, “I’m sorry.”

When the paramedics finally came rushing in, Lynn did not let go of Carrie. She couldn’t risk it, not anymore. Not when they were so close to salvation. The paramedics let her stay by the girl’s side until they got to the actual hospital, but then not even she could remain. She had to peel her hands back, and they were completely covered in blood.

She and Sue sat in the waiting room for what felt like forever, when it was really only two and a half hours at best. They spoke to each other in brief, choppy instances. The stink of guilt wavering off of Sue was sickening--though, that may have just been the stench of the rancid pig blood and regular human blood mixed together into a miasma upon their skin.

When the nurse finally came out and walked up to them, Lynn had been expecting the worst. Surely such a lethal wound take longer to treat. But it didn’t, apparently, because the nurse said that Carrie was stable and Carrie was going to live and they would be able to see her if they liked.

They did.

Lynn and Sue both comforted Carrie when she woke up. Her voice was very hoarse and weak, and Lynn guessed that was both because of her throat wound and from her having to strangle her to keep her from bleeding out.

Carrie didn’t seem very happy to be alive, but then Lynn realized she didn’t have much to live for in the first place. Her mother was all she had, and now even she was gone (the doctors said it was a heart attack). Lynn was hoping to take the place of that empty maternal role and give Carrie the life she deserved. She just wanted to see her happy again.

It was one in the morning when Lynn finally left the hospital. Since she had rode in the ambulance, Sue’s mother dropped her off back at the White bungalow to get her car. 

The place was already swarmed with yellow tape and crime scene investigators. A few neighbors were standing out on their porch, watching the scene. Red and blue lights lit up the dark street. A police officer walked up to Lynn while she was trying to get to her car and began asking her questions about what happened.

By the time she got home, Lynn was mentally and physically drained. The first thing she did when she pulled up in her driveway was step out of her car and throw up in the lawn. Carrie’s blood was still on her hands.

Lynn lost her complete sense of time when she took a shower. She stood beneath the spray of scalding hot water and blankly watched blood run down the drain. She dimly wondered if this was what Carrie saw That Day in the locker room.

She finally broke when she got out of the shower. Staring at her own reflection in the fogged up mirror, she crumpled. Everything she had been holding back hit her like brass knuckles and she sunk to the floor, sobbing.

The tears stopped, eventually. When Lynn dredged herself from the bathroom floor, she went downstairs, started a fire in her fireplace, and threw her blood-stained Prom dress into the flames.

She would not be getting sleep tonight.

--

Carrie was permitted to leave the hospital two days later. By then, it seemed like everyone in the whole country had heard of what happened. Apparently a few reporters had even tried to sneak into the hospital under the guise of being family members to do an interview with Carrie, but were wrangled out.

Carrie herself looked no better than the day she came in. Her hair was wiry and tangled, and her skin was very, very ashen. Her eyes were dead, sunken into two pits in her skull. When Lynn had stepped into the hospital room, her gaze did not brighten like Lynn had been hoping. She just stared at her with a blank expression.

Lynn was given strict instructions to keep an eye on Carrie’s neck, to come in if even a single stitch popped out. Carrie was prescribed tramadol, which she should take a few hours after arriving home. If Lynn’s house could even be considered her home.

The drive was silent. Lynn tried to fill the space, but Carrie never responded. Hell, she barely even looked at her. All she did was look out the window with the same dead fish look in her eyes.

Was this even still the little girl she had danced with at Prom?

  “Here we are,” Lynn said as she parked. “There’s someone waiting for you inside. I’ve told them all about you.”

Carrie tensed. Lynn realized her mistake and quickly went on, “They’ll like you, I promise. It’s nothing bad.”

Carrie’s anxiety did not go away. Lynn quickly unbuckled both of their seatbelts (had Carrie ever even ridden in a car before?), then led Carrie inside. Instantly, Carrie flinched, probably expecting someone awful to be waiting there for her, but instead a grey pit bull bounded up to them, tail wagging so fast it became a blur. Carrie relaxed slightly.

  “You have a dog.”

It was the first thing Carrie had said to her all day. Lynn smiled and nodded, scratching behind the dog’s ear.

  “I never told you?”

Carrie shook her head.

  “Well, her name is Rosebud. You can also call her Rosie. She responds to both.”

Carrie nodded. She reached down and tentatively pet Rosebud. Rosebud responded by eagerly licking her hand. Carrie pulled away with a tiny noise, but it wasn’t one of shock or fear, rather awe. Had Carrie ever touched a dog before?

  “Come on. I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

Lynn gave Carrie a tour of the house while Rosebud trailed after them. Carrie nodded to everything she said, not voicing her opinions about anything. Not that Lynn was expecting her to. She wasn’t like that. Even if it weren’t for her traumatic injury, she wouldn’t say anything.

By the time Lynn was done showing Carrie around, she realized it was only now turning to 12:00. They still had the whole day stretched out before them, and Lynn had no idea what to do.

It was weird, she thought. She had imagined raising Carrie herself several times before this, but she always pictured them doing regular family things like watching TV together or baking or going jogging. Now that the opportunity was finally in front of her, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Though, in her defense, in all of her fantasized ideas, she hadn’t pictured Carrie with a slashed open throat and severe trauma.

  “Would you like to do anything?” Lynn asked. Might as well like Carrie choose.

But Carrie just shook her head, looking as clueless as she felt. 

  “Ah-- well…” Lynn was grasping at straws here. What did Carrie even like to do? “Here, I’ll turn the TV on for you. You can watch something.”

With a small bit of coaxing, she got Carrie to sit down on the couch. Rosebud jumped up next to her. Lynn turned on the TV and opened up the channel guide, then handed the remote to Carrie.

  “Turn on whatever you want.”

Carrie looked down at the remote, then up at her, blinking.

Oh, please don’t tell me she doesn’t know how to--

  “I-I, umm…”

Yep. That was enough of an answer. Carrie didn’t know how TVs worked.

  “Oh, let me--” Lynn took the remote back and began explaining how it worked. “See these two arrows? If you press on them, you can go up in the channels. That’s what all of those little boxes on the screen are. And you can select with this circle in the middle.” She demonstrated, selecting one of the channels and turning on one of those house hunting shows where the white couple (and they’re ALWAYS white) never seem satisfied with any of the options they’re given even though they’re all beautiful houses. “So, is there anything specific you want to watch? Sports? Cartoons? Movies?”

  “This is okay,” Carrie said softly.

  “Alright,” Lynn set the remote down next to her. “You can change it anytime you want.”

Carrie nodded, then looked up at the TV. Lynn lingered beside her for a moment before walking into the kitchen.

Wow, okay. She did not expect motherhood to be this awkward. This was definitely going to be an adventure for her and Carrie both.

--

Time passed. The hours went by. Carrie didn’t say very much. There were some instances where Lynn completely forgot that Carrie was even there and found herself rushing back into the living room to make sure she was as she had left her (which she always was). 

It was a very quiet day, indeed.

At around five o’clock in the evening, however, that quietness was broken.

There was a whimper.

It was so faint that Lynn thought she was just imagining things at first. She had looked up from the soup she was making (the doctor said that Carrie was going to have a liquid/soft food diet for awhile) and furrowed her eyebrows. She strained her ears, but the only sound she got in return was the voice of one of the Property Brothers (she couldn’t tell which was which) from the TV, so she turned her attention back to stirring the noodles in the pot in front of her, writing it off as nothing.

But then it sounded again, this time slightly louder.

Lynn’s spoon clattered against the countertop when she took it out of the pot. She looked out of the kitchen. Maybe it was just Rosebud? She whistled for her pet, then heard the scratching of claws beneath her. She looked down and saw that Rosebud was already there, begging for food in the way she always did when Lynn would cook. Lynn gave into her adorable puppy dog face and tossed her a piece of meat, which she scarfed down greedily.

Well, the whimper was probably just from Rosebud pleading for food in her usual doggy way. But then there was another whimper while she was looking down at the dog, and it had most certainly not come from Rosebud.

Lynn’s eyes widened.

Remember when it was said that Lynn sort of forgot that she had a child now living in her house? This was one of those times.

Lynn hurried out of the kitchen and into the living room, where she found Carrie curled up against one of the pillows, hand on her throat. Lynn was half-expecting there to be blood everywhere and was expecting Carrie to already be dead even more. If only she had been faster, paid more attention, actually known what the fuck she was doing and how to take care of a child--

Carrie whimpered again.

Lynn knelt down beside the couch and gently touched her arm. Carrie flinched away, eyes popping open wide. She looked at her as if she were expecting someone else, someone worse. There was terror written all over her face, and Lynn could tell she had an apology sitting on her tongue.

  “I-I’m sorry--”

And there it was.

  “Shh, it’s alright,” Lynn said to her, keeping her voice low and soft as to not freak the poor girl out even more. “You’re alright. You’re not in trouble. Are you okay?”

  “M-my neck--” Carrie’s voice was strangled, caught in her throat like it was snagged by a fish hook. “I-it hurts--”

Lynn cursed herself for not knowing that. Of course that would be the cause of Carrie’s pain- she got her damn throat slashed open! Was she expecting it to be her damn elbows or something?

  “The painkillers have probably worn off by now,” Lynn said, glancing at the time projected underneath the TV. “I’ll go get you some more.” She retrieved a tablet of Tramadol and a glass of water in record time, not wanting to leave Carrie alone for very long. She helped her sit up, then set the two items in her hands. Carrie went to take a sip from the cup, but flinched away at the last second.

  “N-no--”

Lynn frowned. “You have to drink, sweetheart.” She said. “You need to take that medicine.”

  “I-I can’t--” 

  “It’ll make the pain go away.”

Carrie shook her head, then cried out in pain when she did so, nearly spilling the water. When Lynn reached out to steady her, she jerked away as if her hands were made of fire.

  “Hey, hey,” Lynn spoke softly. “It’s okay, Carrie. You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Carrie looked at her, and there were tears glistening in her big hazel eyes.

  “Why don’t you want to drink?” Lynn asked. Maybe if she knew the cause of the problem, she could solve it.

  “Hurts--to swallow.”

Once again, Lynn mentally punched herself for not knowing that. She couldn’t imagine what Carrie must have been feeling at that moment. Was she worried that the stitches would fly out if she simply took a drink of water?

  “Oh, honey,” Lynn said sadly. She reached out and gently rubbed Carrie’s shoulder, hoping to comfort her. “I know it hurts, but the medicine will help with that, I promise. You just need to take one sip, that’s all. Just one. Think you can do that for me?”

Carrie looked at her uneasily, then nodded. She drank from the cup and put the pill in her mouth while Lynn rubbed her back comfortingly. The poor thing got an expression of absolute agony on her face when she swallowed, but she managed to force it down.

  “It hurts!” Carrie cried.

  “You did it, baby,” Lynn said, smiling warmly. She thumbed away the tears that had sprung to Carrie’s eyes. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Hurts,” Carrie uttered again. The hand that wasn’t holding the cup grasped at her neck, as if she thought the flesh was still splitting open and she could mend it back together if she held it for long enough. 

  “I know,” Lynn said. “The medicine is going to help with that, though. You’ll feel better soon.”

Carrie nodded weakly. Her eyes were so dull and lifeless. Lynn wished she would smile.

  “I’m going to go take the pot off the oven before I burn the whole house down,” Lynn said. “I assume that you aren’t up to eating right now?”

Carrie shook her head.

  “Okay. But when the medicine starts working, you’re going to have to eat something. Doctor’s orders.”

Lynn went back to the kitchen and took the pot of soup off of the burner. She got to it just in time; it was about to bubble over the edge.

When Lynn went back to the couch, two bowls of soup in hand, Carrie was leaning back against the cushions, a glazed look in her eyes. Her hand was still on her neck. Lynn nudged her gently to get her attention.

  “I’m back,” Lynn said, sitting down next to her. “I hope you like chicken noodle. Homemade.”

Carrie blinked at her slowly. “My Mama would make me boiled chicken.”

  “I--” 

That sounded absolutely disgusting.

  “Sounds delicious!”

Carrie shrugged. Pain flashed in her eyes, and Lynn knew it wasn’t because of her neck for once.

Everyone knew about Margaret White and her weird teachings, but nobody had ever thought to do something about it. Lynn was, shamefully, one of those people. Even after she grew attached to Carrie, she still held out hope that it wasn’t as bad as everyone was saying, that the bruises that constantly showed up on Carrie’s little body were just from clumsiness.

She should have known. She should have been smarter. Maybe if she stepped in sooner Carrie wouldn’t be the way she was now.

  “It was certainly boiled,” Carrie finally said, and Lynn couldn’t help but bark a laugh. Carrie blinked at her in delight.

  “I bet it was,” Lynn said back, patting her head.

She and Carrie ended up switching the channel to some animated movie while they ate. Or, while Lynn ate. Carrie didn’t touch her bowl from where it sat on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Some time passed. Lynn noticed that Carrie was starting to blink a lot more, as if she were fighting off tears, but when she looked directly at her, she realized it was from weariness. 

That was right. Tramadol’s main side effect was drowsiness. Lynn tried not to smirk.

  “Someone is sleepy,” Lynn said.

  “Mm-mmm,” Carrie shook her head stubbornly, then let out the most adorable yawn that Lynn had ever heard. 

  “You definitely are,” Lynn set her bowl down, then picked up Carrie’s. “Think you can take a few bites for me? Just a little.”

Carrie looked at her, then the bowl, then back to her, then nodded. She took the bowl from Lynn and began taking small bites.

  “Good girl,” Lynn smiled, rubbing Carrie’s back. Maybe taking Carrie wouldn’t be so hard after all!

  “Hey, Miss Gardener?”

  “Yes, sweet girl?”

  “You wanna know what it was like?”

  “What?”

Carrie looked up at her, eyes like hollow glass, a thin line of soup dripping down the corner of her mouth, and said, “Your hands felt like they had been hanging me.”

…Or not. 

[iconfusionwastaken]

🎭 Technoblade reborn as Billiam AU 🎭

This AU is part of the DSMP Reborn as the “villain” AU multiverse, the link shows the masterpost which explains the AUs & has the index for more AUs that I posted.

If an AU has no link attached, it's coming soon.

If I need to add any CWs please tell me.

--------------------

For whatever reason, Billiam, no, Technoblade remembers his past life at a young age & does not want to get possessd by an evil egg & be 1 of many heartless captalist nobles thank you very much.

(Well it's ambiguous in the novel(s) if Billiam was ever posessed by the Egg/did everything of his own free will or a mixture of the 2, it's also ambiguous if the Egg had anything to do w/ Billiam being evil or not but his point still stands).

His 1st action is to is to treat everyone he comes across well & earn the approval of those around him since he doesn't want to get executed for being an evil capitalist cultist. 

He also has to arm himself to defend against evil capitalists nobles that could take advantage of him.

Yeah Techno's gonna have to relearn how to fight since Billiam's body probably doesn't have the same muscle memory as his old 1 did.

Training Arc pog!

Since Techno's very young when he gains his memories it make things a bit easier for him gaining a good reputation, but he's also got disagreeing parents to deal w/ very early on.

(If Technoblade happens to get his uncaring parents killed after deeming himself ready to take over what they control, why would anybody snitch?)

Fast foward to the future, Technoblade changed his name to Technoblade since he isn't calling himself Billiam anytime soon, & is well liked for how well he treats everyone (who isn't an evil capitalist) regardless of how below his social standing they are. The people under him have it well compared to other places & people come to his land for a better life.

Techno also listens to the people's struggles which adds onto his already great reputation.

Hubert is Technoblade's personal servant, well, best rival & friend w/ a paycheck is more accurate to their relationship. They often duel eachother & train together.

The karaoke kid Billiam canonically abducts is instead legally adopted by Hubert & the kid's name is Moon. Technoblade is his cool uncle who also makes sure they know how to fight just in case. (He/they Moon is my headcanon).

Anybody who tries to assassinate them will get curbstompted.

Moon isn't a servant, they're literally a minor & Hubert's gonna be the 1 inheriting Technoblade's stuff.

They've prepared a cover story for Hubert taking Techno's stuff if the time comes, they're ready to dye his hair, use magic to change his eye color, & trained Hubert in how to do nobility.

Magic will also be used to make it look like Hubert & his persona 'Dream' are certaintly different people.

Technoblade at some point orders a search for the Egg, he's vauge enough that he doesn't sound suspicious & plays it off as research & things he's heard making him cautious & concerned for his people.

He's quick to get soul fire to burn down the Egg when it's finally discovered. He also makes sure people will always know about the danger of it & how to defend against it since it's literally real.

Also, Technoblade his whole life since gaining his memories at least has been fighting tooth & nail to rise up the ranks of nobility so as to someday gain the favor of the sovereign & their heir(s) due to how invaluable that'd be.

What Technoblade controls may legally & based on appearance alone be similar to everywhere else under the other nobles' rule, the place & people are just more willing to help the community out & keep others out of poverty, but if you look closer, over time the power of people in Techno's land has been more equally spread amongst the adults.

At some point in time 1 may think that Technoblade's nobility is just a title & he only has power because of how well liked by the people he is.

If they try to make a fuss, Techno will just bring up that legally he has power over the people who love him & plenty of money so it isn't much of a problem (despite it not being a matter of legallity & instead folkway now).

Techno has a lot of money, but so does everyone legally under him, his place is thriving. (Not that you need money in his land, if you plan to go somewhere capitalist, there's plenty of money for you to grab to make it easier for you).

He's also subtly been making everyone aware of an alternative life that isn't under capitalism, he's been subtly spreading books & such across the land that teaches about the cons of capitalism, the way the government works & it's flaws, & an alternative way to live, anarchy.

Techno doesn't want this to get traced back to his people since he doesn't want anybody hurt for the cause of dismantling a flawed system that exploits people. It'd also hurt his attempts to gain the sovereign & heir(s) favor

Not everyone in nobility is his enemy, Lyaria, Oliver, & Sebastian are nobles he knocked some sense & they are now following his footsteps in making their land like his. Drew P. is a commoner who's also Sebastian's fiance.

Karl is somebody who appeared 1 day according to everybody & was glad to join Technoblade cause. He has unknown but useful connections.

They all work togeather to gain the sovereign & their heir's/s' favor.

More uncles & an aunt for Moon! :D He loves them.

It's clear as day that Karl, Sebastian & Drew wanna marry eachother but for some reason when bringing it up Karl always convinces the 2 they shouldn't date due to reasons.

IDK who the sovereign & their heir(s) would be, I just know that when Technoblade & co. becomes well aquainted w/ them, he'll slowly convince them that anarchy is the way to go.

Maybe he won't be able to fully convince them during his life time, but he's gonna get the ball rolling & make sure it stays rolling.

While this AU has it's serious moments I think this story in Technoblade fashion would focus more on comedy & how amazing & chaotic Techno is.

[spookypetrine]

Bewitching the Elements: Water

This chapter was a rough one bring so many emotions up for me. I only seems to express my feeling with crying if I am in water. The shower and the pool. I constantly want to float in water in emotional states and it does facilitate a lot of breakdowns for me. I don't show my emotions well or share them with others at all in a verbal way. When my fiancé passed away in 2018 I barely cried after his death. I didn't finally cry until my family took me on vacation to the beach a few months later. I went down to the beach alone to swim and I cried at the beauty of the ocean and the pain in my hear that he had never seen the ocean while he was alive. It was devastating and painful to think about as he was gone never to return and I was still here. I am still here and that healing was painful and still not done. This brought all of that back.

I have rambled long enough lets get into these questions.

What does the element of water represent to me?

To me it represents peace and sadness. It's soft and calming, but also have a secret rage. This is the ocean deep and dark with unexplored crevices that hold secrets of the divine feminine inside each person. The feeling of unabashed rage and a delicate side showing the perfect balance of the womxn. It is a glorious element to behold honestly.

What's my truest emotional nature feel like?

For me as I expressed before my emotional nature is a secret. I locked box that very few get to be privy to because when I was a child those emotions were belittled and pushed aside. As an adult I never learned to process them or control them just hide them. Shrink my feelings and shove them away from others. This also involved a lot of learning to cry quietly and learning how to function when paralyzed with depression. My depression took full effect in high school I was stuck in a cycle of having to function when every part of me wanted to hide from the world. Is this healthy or helpful? No. Does it cause immense problems in my personal life? Yes. Will it cause me to change? I am trying with self-therapy and meditation I am trying so that's something I guess.

What is my soul saying to me right now?

I need to meditate and once I finish this journaling I will probably spend the next few hours doing that and reflecting. I also need to pull some cards for some much needed clarity.

What does my shadow self feel like? Express itself as?

My shadow self is the scared little girl hiding in the closet every time someone knocks on the door. When I was about 2 my mother left my abusive father and we moved into an apartment in town to hide from him. Anytime someone knocked on the apartment door I would scream that it was daddy and try to drag my mother into the closet to hide from him. To this day my mother tells that story fondly as a cute anecdote about my childhood. It's a traumatic story about me trying to hide from my abusive scary father, but yes tell that at family reunions.

My shadow self is that little girl that never gets to be a little girl. That small child that had all of her carefree times stripped from her and was placed in a survival mood so young. My shadow self is her and as I write this I can see her in her Barbie footie pajamas hiding with her teddy bear. That is who she is the hurt child begging her mother to get in the closet to save her. She expresses herself every time I get a new stuffie to sit on my bed with me. Every time I do my make-up in a silly way or paint a picture. These are the moments when she comes out and slowly I am healing us both.

What does it feel like living in the world when I'm connected to my heart?

I know my worth in every scenario even in romantic ones. I don't let people use me as much and I stand my ground when needed. I don't let others abuse my heart and I don't do it either. She needs me to be strong and I am. If that strength ends in us being alone then so be it at least no one can take advantage of me any longer.

What practices can I turn to when I'm feeling overwhelmed, emotional, and like I need help?

Well, I write on here and on my google docs. I meditate or exercise. Watch something that makes me happy or read. Sometimes I watch ASMR videos online and enjoy the happy sounds and sights. These are things that help me destress when I need to.

What are the parts of myself I am still learning to accept and love?

I am a bigger woman and have spent most of my life being too big and too much. I am learning to use that and embrace all that I am and my physical body is. Instead of hating her and the person looking back at me in the mirror, I have to learn to love her and heal her as she needs. She is me and I need to make sure she is taken care of. Right now I am just going through the motions, but eventually, it will become and kneejerk reaction to love myself and build myself up. As needed I will be my own advocate because no one is going to do it for me or see my value if I don't see it for myself.

What are ways I can nurture myself through this?

This is a very new radical path I am on and I have to go it pretty much alone. In this time I just need to remind myself to be conscious that I am trying and be patient as I relearn to love my body and myself. To find beauty in my flaws and hope in my soul I will evolve to love myself despite the world telling me I shouldn't. I will.

[himbowelsh]

PLEASE IF YOU CAN Valentine's Day headcanons for Daniel Jackson from saving private ryan ❤❤❤

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

seeing as we don’t get much backstory on jackson in the movie, i took inspiration from the first draft of rodat’s script  ---  it’s very different from the finished product, but jackson actually talks about his home and family, so hey, i’ll take it.

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

He’s very much not the PDA type. It’s not something he’s comfortable with  ---  caring for someone, in his experience, shouldn’t be a loud gesture. Jackson’s not the type to verbalize his affection, but he shows it off in actions. He’ll offer his coat to someone when they’re shivering, share his last cigarette, wordlessly lay his hand over someone else’s when it seems they need steadying...  Jackson’s affection is obviously, and grounded in stone.

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

His mama raised him right  ---  if you’re visiting someone’s home for an occasion, you bring the lady of the house flowers. He doesn’t usually give them out as presents, but he will show up with some for any party or lunch date at someone else’s home. (All his friends’ moms adore him.) Usually they’re wildflowers which he’s picked himself and arranged into a neat little bouquet  ---  Jackson doesn’t believe in spending money on flowers when so many nice ones are growing outside all the time.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s got a particular fondness for it, especially not having had much of it growing up. Legitimately thinks dark chocolate is good, and will say as much to anyone who asks, with no idea why this makes certain Reiben people so angry.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He’s a simple man; doesn’t need a lot. Maybe a nice nature walk, just the two of them, where they can fill the silence with soft conversation? That sounds nice...  or maybe a night under the stars, laying side-by-side on a blanket in a field somewhere, a campfire smouldering next to them, while they stare up at an incredibly bright night. There’s no better place to feels close to the heavens, or his partner.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Jackson’s hugs are serious, very firm, tight enough to press some of his own strength into the other person’s body. He usually only hugs to offer someone comfort  ---  one-armed, pulling them against his chest just so they know they aren’t alone. Softer things, like snuggling...  well, he’s never really done that, outside of childhood puppy piles with the cousins, so he’d have to relearn the skill.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Jackson isn’t refined, but his charm is undeniable  ---   when out on the town, he’s impressive without trying. Maybe it’s the confidence, maybe it’s the smooth way he handles himself, maybe it’s that he can hold his liquor like a champ but is more willing to show off his beautiful grin with a few beers in him...  Jackson rarely has a problem getting acquainted with women.

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He doesn’t have a lot of money for gifts, is the thing. As a kid, they always exchanged homemade stuff, but somehow it’s not as cute from an adult man; so Jackson tends to save his money, not scattering gifts throughout the year, but treating his loved ones to big, expensive gifts once in a blue moon. He bought an ice cream maker, he bought a piano  ---  once, he and his brothers even pooled their money to buy their mother a spa vacation. Jackson’s gifts are very useful, and enjoyed by more than one person. (Intimate gifts, just for one  ---  like, for a partner  ---  make him nervous, and he’s never quite sure what to buy.)

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He’s got a few walls up, and they’re hard to take down; he doesn’t like getting close to people, and doesn’t like them knowing too much about him. People are nosy, and don’t always have the best intentions...  so he’d need someone to grow on him slowly, while he can gradually let them in more and more.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

This is something he genuinely never thought about before getting into a relationship. It’s...  harder to say than he imagined it’d be. Jackson’s a man of few words in general, so when he does say it out loud, it means something.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

He does, in a very quiet way. It’s not something he’ll speak up about. Jackson’s a watcher, a waiter, and he’ll observe the situation from a distance to first decide if there’s anything he should be concerned about. He trusts his partner implicitly, he just doesn’t trust other fellas around them. If the other person doesn’t step off after awhile, he’s not above challenging them to something, like a shooting match or a game of darts, just to casually assert his superiority...  and then, if they still don’t get the hint, he’ll pull them aside and warn in a low voice that they should keep distance from his partner.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Jackson is a very intense kisser. He loves steering his partner, pulling them close with his left hand while cupping their face with his right; one thumb will stroke over their cheekbone as the motion of their lips steadily builds heat. He might slowly guide them back against the nearest surface, so he can loom over them, slowly baring down; when his lips get involved, nipping and teasing his partner’s lips, that’s when he starts to get really serious.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

First and foremost, Jesus Christ, his lord and savior. Then his family, all thirty-two of them (give or take a few cousins); Jackson’s particularly close to his mother, who he thinks is the most patient woman God ever put on this earth. He’s got a deep love for some of the friends he made while at war, and is the sort of man who’d hold them in his heart even if he hadn’t seen them in years.

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

At night, he prefers to be asleep, and has no trouble getting that way. (Jackson’s well-known for his talent of passing out anywhere.) Anytime before noon are the perfect hours to spend with his partner, doing anything they like; he’s always a fan of a good breakfast, so given the opportunity, he’d love to share it with his partner.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

He takes it slow; there’s no rush, after all, and half the fun is in building up the sensations until both he and his partner are ready to burst. Jackson is very serious about foreplay...  and very skilled at it. He trails his hands slowly up and down his partner’s body, devoting special attention to any areas that snare his interest. While he doesn’t say anything, he’ll humm or sigh, sometimes even chuckling at his partner’s reactions; he prefers to be in control, but it’s exhilarating when his partner flips the dynamic. Jackson’s hips are his one weakness, kept carefully hidden; he’s very sensitive there, and any attention paid to the sharp curve of his hipbones will get him overwhelmed very quickly, head falling back as he bites back a moan.

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

Jackson grew up listening to his papa and uncles preach. Though plainspoken men in practice, up on that pulpit, they transformed; they could take the words of the Gospels straight from the page, give them wings, and send them soaring. From them, Jackson learned the virtue of eloquence, the skill of talking yourself up and making your intentions know. He’s a man of few words, but when he does speak, those words are well-articulated and full of intention.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Honestly, Jackson would do best with a partner who’s also religious  ---  someone who’s faith matters to them as much as it does to him. He was raised in a travelling ministry  ---  while he’s always kind of expected to follow that path, meeting his partner might change his mind, but faith will always be a bit part of his life. He’ll want to raise a religious family. Aside from that...  a partner who’s empathetic, who cares about people, who doesn’t feel the need to constantly fill silences, nonjudgemental, not too high-maintenance. Maybe someone who enjoys being outdoors, who loves animals, especially dogs...  someone who likes to dance, because Jackson loves to...  someone with a warm smile.

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He’d absolutely ask, but it’d have to be in his own time. While Jackson wouldn’t be able to afford an expensive ring, he’d hope his partner would settle for his mother’s wedding band, passed through the family since his great-grandmother stole it from a travelling circus. Jackson would find a quiet patch of field  ---   somewhere with a nice view, maybe looking out over a wheat field or a meadow of flowers  ---  and lure his partner up there with the promise of a picnic. Only as they’re packing up the scraps, after a very pleasant afternoon, would he get down on one knee. “Nothing would make me a happier man than to spend the rest of my god-given life with you...  if you’ll have me.”

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s got a romantic side, and won’t deny it. Given the opportunity and the means, Jackson would love to treat his partner; he wants to see them smiling over a dinner he made himself, to see candlelight dance in their eyes and a ring he got them on their finger. Unfortunately, he’s aware of his own limited means   ---   he may never have the money to wine-and-dine his lover in the world’s most romantic places, so they’ll have to settle with making every day special, in little ways. None of his friends would expect it of him, but he’s got a real soul for romance.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He traveled a lot with the family ministry, so Jackson never stayed in place long enough. He didn’t go to school as a boy (which is why his reading’s not quite up to snuff) so his interaction with other kids, outside of the extended family, was limited. Never had a chance to find a sweetheart.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

Sure  ---  call him traditional, or a romantic, or whatever you like. It’s no skin off his back. Jackson believes love is the purest form of human emotion, what God created mankind to do. If they were put on this earth with the ability to kill, they’ve got to love twice as hard to make up for it...   and maybe the people who’ve never taken a life are able to love the most, but loving comes naturally to most everyone.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

Thankfully, no. He doesn’t have many things haunting his dreams at night, and does his best not to dwell on the past. The worst he’s been hurt in life is losing his grandpa, seeing one of the family dogs catch rabies, and seeing his family go hungry some nights. Nothing romantical, just the aches 'n pains of life.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

It’s...  not something his family ever celebrated? Lowkey, it just wasn’t a thing for them, so while he was aware of it, it was never a big deal. Should he get a partner who wants to participate in the holiday, Jackson will make every effort to learn  ---  and probably become dead-set on giving them the best damn Valentine’s Day they’ve ever had  ---   but he might be a little clueless. 

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

Yessir. Not a question he has to think about. Getting married is something he definitely wants  ---  the idea of spending the rest of his life with someone appeals to him, so long as it’s someone who loves him back. Jackson doesn’t need constant passion; he’ll settle for companionship, good company, and a bit of love. Marriage seems like the best way to make if official.

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Nothing embarrassing. (He’s very sensitive to embarrassing nicknames, having been called “Jackrabbit” by his family for the first twelve years of his life.) Jackson sticks to the traditional “darling”, and it’s a favorite. Uttered in that honey-sweet accent, he knows just how to make his partner blush.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

Very protective, and he doesn’t mess around. When Jackson sets his mind to it, he’s intimidating as hell. He’ll come up behind someone, looming taller than his actual height, with a glare on his face that could wilt flowers. Anyone who doesn’t take the hint and step off  ---   quickly  ---  is asking for a chance to become personally acquainted with the Lord.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

...  he comes from a small, extremely religious community that would not take kindly to sleeping around. Daniel hasn’t had many partners. Maybe 3, maybe 4? Most of them were found overseas. Good Lord’s always watching, even in the bedroom.  (He always gives the Lord a show.)

[twilight-town-zombies]

For the ship thing. Axel and Isa. Somebodies and Hot Topic where it would differ

How do much do I ship it?: Never heard of it/ Notp / Dislike / used to ship / maybe / ship it / aww / otp / IS IT CANON YET?

2. What non sexual activities do they like to do together?

Somebodies: 

When they were kiddos, Lea and Isa spent a lot of time outside of academy hours roaming around the city and trying to sneak into places they weren’t supposed to (Their loftiest goals being the clock tower and castle). They considered this more their ‘job’ than anything, though. 

For fun, they played a lot of frisbee and tag with the other local hooligans or just with each other, which Isa preferred. They would read books and comics together late at night when Lea would sneak over to Isa’s house and often reenacted these and the stories their fathers told them on the beach or in the town square. 

Sometimes Isa’s father would take them both out in his fishing boat. Isa would help, and Lea would also ‘help,’ which often involved fumbling bait and fish over the side. Other days, one of the bartenders, cooks, or servers at the Lea’s parent’s pub would take them under their wing for an evening and let them help add spices to dishes or collect bottle caps off the floor or wash tables, which would last until one of the customer’s complained or Lea’s parents caught sight of them and kicked them out. 

In Somebodies, as young twenty-somethings, they spend most of their free time focusing on academy training and school, especially with Isa trying to steer Lea away from his delinquent friends and tendencies. Isa’s much more studious than Lea and helps him relearn material that he was too distracted to learn in class, and convinces him to take time to sit and focus on completing homework and readings. 

They love to spar and work out together on a regular basis and often give each other advice or teach each other new techniques. They’re both competitive and have some unchecked aggression, so sparring is a good outlet, and it teaches them to give their all, while maintaining self-control, because they don’t want to hurt each other much, although a few bangs and bruises have always been forgivable, and they give each other a fair amount of medical care as well.  

In their free time, Lea and Isa enjoy taking their dog Neptune on walks in the park or along the beach, going sailing, and playing frisbee for old time’s sake. 

Some nights Lea helps Isa babysit his sisters and entertains them with wild anecdotes. They both appreciate how gentle each other can be with kids and animals. Other nights, Isa visits Lea while he’s bartending, and when Lea has time, they tell each other stories about their day, reminiscence and try to make each other laugh.  

Hot Topic: 

Axel and Saix have embraced island life in a big way. Whenever they can get away from work, they spend their free time on the beach, going on long walks or jogs, or surfing and playing frisbee or soccer with Xigbar and Demyx. (They played soccer together in high school for a while.) They enjoy being active and getting fresh air, and it’s been helpful for Saix’s mental health. They often go to the gym together, spot each other and give each other advice and encouragement. 

When they need a night in, they enjoy cooking together and then Netflix and cuddle. Sometimes they watch terrible shows just to amuse each other making snide comments. They’re also very good at spending down time together, with Saix reading and Axel sketching tattoo designs, either on paper or on Saix’s skin. 

When they want to go out, sometimes the pair of them will go to a club to dance and hang out exclusively with themselves (because if Saix loses sight of Axel for two seconds he will jump to conclusions and freak the fuck out). Though they don’t have a lot of time for it, they enjoy shopping for clothes together and have been known to spend literal hours in the fitting room, making each other try on a hundred different things.

(God, this is long. I will try to be shorter)   

3. Who does chores around the house?

I would say in both stories, they try to split chore responsibilities evenly, because Isa doesn’t let Lea slack. Having a clean and organized house is incredibly important to Isa/Saix because it gives him a sense of security and control over his life. Lea/Axel is not a naturally neat person, and doesn’t entirely understand, but he recognizes how important it is to his boyfriend and tries to take his responsibilities seriously. HT Saix is a little more extreme with his organization than Isa is, (I think I mentioned an alphabetical spice rack?) so Axel has a harder time of it. Every now and then, Lea/Axel will get tired and forget to do something or leave his things lying around. Isa is more likely to shake his head and do it for Lea, while Saix is more likely to give Axel a lecture about his laziness.

4. Who’s the better cook?

Somebodies: Lea. He grew up watching cooks in his dad’s bar, he works in a pub, and he’s had to make a lot of his own food because his parents are pretty negligent. Also, he enjoys cooking and loves to try exotic foods, probably because there wasn’t always enough to go around and he occasionally had to accept food from whoever would give it to him. Isa’s mother does a lot of the cooking in his family and keeps recipes pretty simple. His father’s a fisherman so there’s a lot of seafood and bread, which are pretty much the only thing Isa feels comfortable making well. He tends to prioritize school over learning to cook and sometimes forgets to eat if Lea doesn’t remind him. 

Hot Topic: Saix. Under the advice of his therapist, Saix tries to embrace the healthy body, healthy mind lifestyle and spends a lot of time learning to make healthy and delicious foods. He’s thinking about going vegan. He approaches cooking like something to be studied and perfected. Axel can cook fairly well too, and sometimes they cook together, though Saix can be bossy in the kitchen. Axel can’t entirely blame him though. Axel is more about tastiness than healthiness and tends to burn things or make them too salty or spicy.   

5. Who’s the funniest drunk?

The funniest would probably be Lea/Axel when he’s a little buzzed, but mostly just up to his normal antics. 

When Isa/Saix is drunk and in a good mood, he gets very affectionate and clingy with Lea/Axel and forgets to care how much he dislikes/is cautious of PDA, which their friends find both funny and a little sad. If he’s tired or stressed he tends to get broody and quiet, Isa more likely to get depressed or opinionated, Saix more likely to be jealous or hostile. 

While Lea/Axel is funnier in general, and he’s more likely to make people laugh with his sense of humor, getting drunk actually tends to make him less funny, because he’s more likely to make jokes that are a little crueler, more personal, less tasteful, which he otherwise would have kept to himself, and Isa/Saix is less likely to keep him in check and more likely to get pissed about it.

6. Do they have kids?

Somebodies: No, just a dog that they are very devoted to. Lea and Isa would have liked to have adopted a kid or two in the future. 

Hot Topic: No. They’ve been on and off again enough that the topic of having kids is kind of a vague and distant concept in their minds at this point in time. Saix especially wants to focus on getting himself into a better place before he even considers the idea. Axel prefers to hang out with other people’s kids so he can give them back after. He sometimes baby-sits his friend David’s niece, Lilo. He’s a little afraid he’d mess his own kids up.  

7. Do they have any traditions?

Somebodies: They used to meet at the fountain in the local square to walk to school together every day. Even after their fake public break up, they still get together on special occasions, like birthdays, holidays, and graduations, and spend the whole day together, and they usually meet up in that same spot. 

Hot Topic: Both Axel and Saix did not have great home lives growing up, so rather than going home for the holidays, they spend them together making their own traditions, inviting their friends over, or if they’re really just not in the mood, making them as low key as possible. They only decorate for Halloween. They are an order take-out on Christmas kind of couple. Although they would probably go surfing before-hand. Attempts to break from these into a more traditional holiday tends to cause discord. 

8. What do they fight about?

Somebodies: Mainly, Lea’s bad habits, smoking, stealing that sort of deal. He has some friends like Elrena that poverty has pushed toward the criminal side, of life and Isa wants him to be successful.  Every so often, they’ll fight about the uncertainty of their future. Lea wants to be on the Castle Guard, and Isa’s also considering it, but guards aren’t supposed to be in relationships, and they don’t actually have a plan to deal with that, nor are they able to sit down and talk about it without emotions running high. 

Hot Topic: Commitment. Lea’s a bit of a flirt, and Isa’s childhood abuse has left him with an extreme sense of insecurity that manifests in his jealousy. So, Isa’s constantly questioning Lea’s commitment to him and relationships with other men and keeping tabs on him, and Lea’s questioning why the other areas of Isa’s life seem to be improving, but not Isa’s ability to let Lea be himself, spend time by himself, and make new friends.    

9. What would they do if they found their pairing tag on tumblr? (If they have one)

Somebodies: Isa and Lea would be incredibly concerned with the extreme personality changes and murder they see in their futures. (And how the hell does that lead to domestic life with two teenagers? Or are they adults? Or are they preschoolers? Isa and Lea are barely not teenagers themselves, and are not feeling ready for this.) 

Hot Topic: Saix is Concerned. Axel loves the murder and intrigue, he’s definitely going to spend hours clicking through fanart and fics and showing Saix highlights. 

10. Who cried at the end of Marley and me?

(I’ve never seen Marley & Me, I’m just going to assume a very cute dog dies)

Somebodies: Isa’s reading Marley & Me out loud to Lea, who’s lounging on the floor in front of the fireplace, hugging Neptune. Lea’s eyes start getting misty and Isa’s voice breaks. Lea brings Neptune over to Isa, who is not full on crying, but maybe about to be. Group hug and they decide to take a break from the book and take Neptune outside to play for a while. 

Hot Topic: Axel starts bitching about the ending as soon as he realizes what’s happening, but he gets quieter and quieter as the story plays out. Saix is holding him and rubbing his back and Axel thinks he’s doing okay and then abruptly Saix starts straight up sobbing into Axel’s shoulder, and Axel hushes and quiets him, and they make plans to go adopt a puppy the next day. 

11. Who always wins at Mario kart?

Both: Axel is much more into video games than Saix is but Saix somehow always comes up from behind at the last minute and beats him in Mario Kart, no matter how many times they play. 

12. One thing I like about this ship?

I love their history. They grew up together and know each other inside and out and have stood by each other through whatever life’s thrown at them. I like their personalities. I see them as two people with wildly different personalities who, nonetheless both understand and value the other person for and in spite of those differences. I like that they are both strong, loyal, and dedicated to what they believe in and care about to the point where they stand by each other when they lose their hearts and straight up commit murder because they want to be able to feel love for each other again. That’s fucking hard core. Oh that was like five things. Whoops. 

13. One thing I don’t like about the ship?

Controversial take, I know, but I’m a huge Axel/Roxas fan, so I kind of prefer to see Lea/Isa and Axel/Saix as past tense, a couple that broke up because life threw too much at them and they betrayed each other, but have happily moved on and still mean the world to each other, just in a different way.  

Sea Salt Fam: I don’t like that they’ve somehow become the Dads of the group? I always imagined them in their early twenties--at most--just a few years older than the rest of the group, so seeing them put in these parent roles, for Roxas and Xion, who tend to get treated like young children, (Daddy, braid my hair and read me a story is, like, not something any teenager has ever said), kind of weirds me out.   

14. The song I would say fits them?

Somebodies: Mars (Sleeping at Last)

Hot Topic: Kills You Slowly (The Chainsmokers)

15. Another headcanon about the pairing? (Free space)

Somebodies: Isa and Lea have never officially told anyone in their families that they’re romantically involved, because they’re not supposed to be, but they are all perfectly well aware, and do not believe for a second that they broke up. 

Hot Topic: Saix is hugely in love with Axel’s voice and guitar-playing, and even though seeing him at the front of a band makes him incredibly uncomfortable and Demyx drives Saix crazy, he’s trying really hard to be supportive of the whole endeavor and listens to the band’s EP on a regular basis.   

[takaraphoenix]

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Season 6

1. Favorite character of this season?

I absolutely love how they dedicated this season to Buffy's issues. She died. And was ripped out of heaven. She lost her mom and was suddenly forced into being the adult in the house. It's so much and she gets to break about it. Yes, she hurts the people around her, but honestly... it kind of figures? How is one supposed to adjust to what she is trying to adjust to? But over the season, the wake-up calls she gets – the asylum episode, Dawn's stealing, Willow's addiction and then the grand finale that makes her realize she wants to be in this world – it's so great, because it goes... slowly.

My biggest issue with most modern TV is that it's basically torture porn. The main character is put through impossibly traumatizing ordeals but is never even given the chance to cope, to try and deal with it. The issues are never addressed, only glossed over because actually dealing with them would require care and good writing and take time away from all the other drama going on! So characters are only traumatized for shock-value and then are immediately over it, even though it's unrealistic.

This season is a season of trauma. A season of bad coping mechanism, of pushing people away but still seeking someone where she can feel safe – Spike. She slowly has to relearn to open up and let them in, she has to learn to want to live again. And it's hard. And the show doesn't shy away from it, it doesn't shy away from her making the wrong choices, because... there is no one right choice that is obvious when dealing with the trauma she has faced.

2. Outstanding minor character (positive or negative)?

Negative. Jonathan. I just... I really truly hate that Jonathan is in the trio. Of all people, Jonathan. The one who gave Buffy her class-protector award with that heart-warming speech. Buffy was the one person who saved him, personally, when he wanted to commit suicide. Even after the Jonathan Superstar episode, Buffy was gentle and understanding with him. It just... for him, to turn supervillain like that was incredibly disappointing for me.

3. Favorite character dynamic?

I genuinely love the Tara-Dawn dynamic. Tara and Willow raised her for months while Buffy was dead. But the Giles-Anya dynamic is also so great – I'm very soft for the way Anya points out her hair is blonde in the finale like “Buffy is getting hugs for short hair. I too would like a hug”.

4. Favorite canon romantic ship?

Buffy and Spike... in the first half of the season. The way she found him to open up to, he was the only one she voluntarily told about having been in heaven. She finds a connection to him. The way he loves her – that he stayed, for months, even though she was dead, because he had promised her to take care of Dawn and he didn't just do that, he helped the Scoobies protect Sunnydale. He had no reason to and it still... it bothers me so much that everyone continuously belittles Spike's love for Buffy like it's not there. If he was only lusting after her, he would have ditched town after her death, he wouldn't have helped defend Sunnydale and take care of Dawn.

5. Least favorite canon romantic ship?

I'm having flashbacks here but it's a tie and it's because of shit decisions Xander and Willow made.

It's strange, I want to love Willow and – as a friend – she is a great character, but she's just... a shitty partner? She cheated on Oz for weeks or months with Xander and now she used magic to play with Tara's mind. That is so... violating and disturbing and that, after Tara found out and confronted her about it and pointed out how incredibly wrong that was, even more so with Tara's past, Willow just went and immediately did it again. And this isn't something you can blame the addiction for; this was just “I don't want my girlfriend mad at me so I'll erase her memories”. It's... just so bad.

The other being Xander and Anya, even though I love Xander and Anya together, but... the entire season was a steady build-up to “Xander REALLY doesn't wanna get married”, literally from the first episode on. He tried to hide the engagement as long as possible. Then he just... makes these disturbed faces every time someone brings up the married life. They had a whole sing and dance number about their doubts. It's just so very evidently clear that he doesn't want to get married, but he takes until the wedding itself to realize and just... leaves Anya at the altar and then thinks he can get her back? Genuinely thinks they could just go back to being in a relationship? But after leaving her at the altar acting like she owes him something – when he watches her and Spike have sex?

Sometimes, it feels like Xander and Willow really live to sabotage their own happiness.

6. Favorite episode?

Once More With Feeling – it's just one of the most outstanding episodes, really! The songs are so brilliant, the emotional arcs this episode for everyone – from the Spuffy to the per-marital issues between Anya and Xander to Tara and Giles' doubts. It's really brilliant. Many shows after have tried to make a musical episode happen and, with luck, they're fun or comic-relief, but... none have lived up to the standard set by this one.

7. Least favorite episode?

Oh, that's an easy one. 6x19 Seeing Red, where they made... Spike, at this point honestly, completely OoC by having him try to rape Buffy. That will never come off as anything but OoC, not after all that has happened between them. Yes, they are violent with each other – but that's a mutual thing, they hurt each other. This was... terrifying to watch as a teen and it hasn't stopped being upsetting and disturbing. And then they top the episode off with Tara being fridged.

I know fridging is technically the act of killing a female character for the sake of a male character's suffering, but... it's gay fridging? It's not even entirely a Bury Your Gay; Tara dies specifically for the pain and suffering of her lover. After everything Tara's been through in life and after everything Willow has put her through this season, they barely just rekindled... and she gets killed off.

8. Favorite Monster Of The Week?

Aesthetically and what he brought to the show? Sweet from Once More, With Feeling.

But I think that Stewart from Hell's Bells also really stood out. The fact that Anya's past came back to haunt her – because she was a demon for a century and she tortured people for a living. She doesn't even remember this guy whose life she ruined and he comes in to ruin her wedding. And in the end... he wasn't even the one to ruin it, the viewer gets one last moment of hope when it's revealed this was a fake-out, that he was not “Xander from the future” but a vengeful demon... but even without Stewart, the wedding didn't happen.

9. Least favorite Monster Of The Week?

Not too many monsters of the week going on, really. Probably Wig Lady from 6x12 Doublemeat Palace, because all the implications of cannibalism in that episode were really very disturbing.

10. Rate the overarching villain!

Brilliant. 10/10. Holds up so well.

Seriously, there is this... frustrating part where Xander's character just does not hold up at all because of the casual sexism and gross over-sexualization of his female friends. Which figures, because that's how a Nice Nerdy Guy was defined in the 90s (and, if you look at modern TV aimed at nerdy guys like The Big Bang Theory, still is). It's just a trope from TV and movies that for some reason really worked back then but nowadays when we look at sexism and the behavior of men toward women with different eyes, it is really appalling and upsetting.

In the case of the nerd trio, this worked out really well for the show, because it only makes them even more effective villains. They are ridiculous losers, total nerds who think they are owed womens' attention. Their schemes are literally straight out of comics but for the dumbest purposes – they make an invisibility ray so they can go into a women's only spa to spy on naked ladies. They create mind-control devices but for the purpose of enslaving women into their sex-puppets.

It is so gross, so ridiculous and inexplicably still somehow funny, because it's straight out of comics. Freeze-rays? Invisibility-rays? Self-destructing lairs? Jet-packs? It is not out of this world, this isn't how Buffy the Vampire Slayer operates, this is a show about monsters and demons and they're turning it into a whacky scifi show and it works.

Then there's the fact that they're just... three dumb losers? I mean, last season, Buffy literally slayed a god. Shows like to escalate. The Big Bads become bigger and badder each season, but... where do you go after you killed a god? Instead of trying to immediately one-up the villain factor, they did something incredibly brilliant. They took all the steps back.

The villains aren't the focus of this season. The focus of this season is what I answered in the first part of this post. Buffy's mental health and readjustment. You can't only focus on that though, you do need a villain and for that, an overarching villain of some loser nerd bois who fail the majority of time are perfect. They're nuisances that make Buffy's life marginally harder at times, but they're not an overall, serious, actual threat that may end the world.

And still they... got Tara killed. In such a... human manner. An angry man-child who hates women comes in with a gun and shoots her. And there's nothing the demon-slaying good guys can do about it. The bullet hits – not the target it was intended for – and takes an innocent life. Just like that, Warren manages what the hellish bad guys from previous seasons hadn't managed; he kills a Scoobie. Angelus killed Jenny, Drusilla killed Kendra, those were the only major deaths at the hands of villains that we had on this show so far and both were minor characters.

Bonus: Other thoughts?

Dawn was so draining this season; she got better in the last quarter of the season but the majority of it... The stealing, the behavior, the blaming Buffy for absolutely everything – Willow got addicted to magic, it's Buffy's fault, they have no money and Buffy has to go and work to earn money and it's Buffy's fault that she's not home, Buffy died to save Dawn and somehow it's Buffy's fault too because she left Dawn. Just... how can you possibly be this self-centered...? It's so exhausting, even more so in the season that has Buffy suffering the most and instead of being a supportive, helpful sister, Dawn acts like she's the victim of everything...

And I understand, Dawn has been through a lot too – losing her mother, losing Buffy, learning she isn't human but just a mass of energy – but there is a difference between suffering yourself and placing all the blame on other people and pretending that the world is against you, instead of tackling your own issues and problems yourself? And stealing from your friends, at that.

And no, being fifteen isn't an excuse for not seeing beyond yourself. Fifteen year olds are sure old enough to be self-aware... This “fifteen year olds only see themselves and only care about their own suffering and everybody else is to be blamed for how shit their life is” is just... another cringey Teen Girl Trope. Seriously, why did they just cram every single bad trope into this character...

[immawritethat]

Falling Back for the Craft

Hello friends. Over the past year or so, my relationship with writing has become…complex. Back in November 2018, I finished the second draft of my novel, which was essentially a complete re-write aside from the last few chapters. I’ve been working diligently on this piece since January 2015, save from a month or two gap at the beginning of the process and a six month break between drafts.

Towards the end of the draft, I found myself writing more than I ever had and I was thriving and living off it. Most of my thoughts were consumed with my novel and finishing it before Camp NaNoWriMo (planning a partner project with a friend, so as to trap myself into a committed deadline) and although I failed it did push me faster. Upon finishing, I forced myself to take a break, despite wanting to remain on my writing high.

I ended up taking too long of a break. From writing everything. I began struggling to do much writing at all. And I really started to just miss it. I’ve been relearning how to fall in love with writing and with words and the whole of the craft. I’ve been working on this post on-and-off over the past few months to document my experience, just in case anyone else might be going through the same thing, and I think I’m finally getting back to the place where I can publish this earnestly.

Consume fresh content.

Without fail, enjoying something new sparks a creative drive in me. This can be anything from a book to television show to video game and more. Fresh is the keyword here; re-reading books is great, and reading your usual genres and authors is always great, but I’ve found that taking a chance on something different has helped a lot. For me, that’s happened to be a historical fiction and books that are new adult rather than young adult, because I’ve read pretty much just YA fantasy and scifi for quite some time. (I’ve also been consuming a lot of historical costuming/vintage fashion videos, and playing non-Nintendo video games)

This can also be as simple as following new writblrs and appreciating their ideas and content, as well! Passion tends to feed off passion!

Make time for your writing.

I know it sounds simple and obvious and cliched, but this is the one I've actually struggled with the most. Once you’ve broken the habit, it’s very difficult to build back up. I recommend small, simple goals. Something as minor as “write a paragraph before opening up Tumblr” or “turn off your phone for ten minutes and try to write during that time” can become surprisingly effective. It doesn’t feel like much, but it’ll add up, and it’ll help get you back into the headspace of not only wanting to write, but actually writing.

I know some people who even ritualize the act! Make yourself a cup of tea or coffee, sit down at a desk, table, the floor, whatever, and make a moment of it if that helps! If you happen to have a consistent time off (a free hour between breakfast and getting ready for work, after school before anyone else gets home, after dinner is cleaned up and before bed, etc.) that would be a good time to make this a regular or semi-regular habit!

Get yourself in order.

I tell myself time has been the leading factor in writing rut, but I know that if I’m honest with myself, it’s directly related to my mental health. (Now whether lack of time directly correlates to my mental health is a complicated issue that I won’t address here) Keep an eye on yourself, your signs, and your surroundings; do you not have the same energy and spark about most things? Is your typical workspace cluttered and unappealing? Are your creative ideas and impulses at a standstill?

If this is the case, I can’t give you some perfect answer; mental health and motivation is something incredibly personal and impossible for me to tell you, but some things I found helpful were:

Getting to bed at on a consistent schedule (I found sleeping from 10:30 to 7:30 the best for me personally! Going to sleep after midnight is rough for me)

Limiting time spent online

Making small changes (adding a decoration here or there, rearranging things, wearing a different color of lipstick, anything small to add variety and a sense of control!)

Making time to go outside (Vitamin D is important!)

Making lists

Talking to trusted loved ones

Be kind to yourself, while holding yourself accountable.

I’m still trying to figure things out again. I’m putting up this post because I’ve had it sitting in drafts for so long and I just want it over with. It’s an uphill battle, that’s for sure. I tend to get my shit together for a few days at a time, and then things get busy and suddenly I haven’t written for a week...or two...again.

You might have to (and probably should) to readjust expectations. I used to write anywhere from 250-600 words a day, nearly every day. Now I might get that much a week, if I’m lucky. Admittedly a lot has also changed; for a few months I was working five days a week and attending school four, which makes a huge difference in available time/energy, and plenty of free time is dedicated to maintaining relationships and attending to chores and other needs. The reason I think I’ll be able to get back on track is because school is only going to be two days this semester, if I’m honest. Time is an essential part of productivity, and if you don’t have time and can’t allot more time, then that’s just how it is. Don’t beat yourself up over circumstances you can’t control, and don’t belittle yourself for not getting more done when you do have the time.

It’s not going to make you any more productive, it’s going to affect your self-image, and there’s simply no need to be cruel.

------------------------------------

That’s all I can think of for now! Happy writing, and here’s to our passions lighting once again.

[24hourdinerandotherhorrorstories]

The Letter Forever Remembered

Dear (name is smudged out),

My story is an odd one. Most would even consider me the bad guy along with my family in my story. However, at the end of the day I'm so happy with my family and with the love of my many lives. Yes, you read that right, I have lived many lives with the same memories and the same needs as the one before. Always hopping into some sad little child corpse and taking it over. Never quite mentally growing, always flipping between childlike and forcing myself to be an adult without understanding what it really meant to be an adult. It never got easier and it's not something you can just get used to especially when your mind is mostly feral from isolation. My mind was broken after so many jumps between bodies and people rarely take in children that are damaged. Sometimes my adopted parents were human and feared me to a certain extent but many times after they were not and didn't fear me enough. However, they found me, the dark followers, they saw what I was and gave me a proper caregiver. I called her Mother, for she was the only one I ever considered true family.

Most humans around her couldn't understand why she would adopt and foster damaged children when she could have her own. But she always looked at us with happiness and pride. She told them we were children of her soul and called to her like no other, how could she deny that call? People would go quiet after that, mostly at how intense she was about us. She was patient with her broken children and we saw her as a divine being finally delivering us the peace we so desperately craved. We as her children could never quite figure out if she was human or something more, much like the dark followers that visited our home while we grew up. Growing up in such a dark home had it's terrifying moments. Even for one such as I, who had seen so much, was scare of some of the things I saw. I do not know how to begin this part of my story but I will try.

The one moment, the one special thing that always pushed me to live through all these horrible lives was her. I met her in my third...or was it fifth life and she was my everything. She was my soulmate, my twin flame, my sanity and the sweet love of my lives. Every life I met her, I would able to breath again. It was both a blessing so grand it brought me to tears but a curse so foul that physical torture would be better than the pain of seeing her die. She always dies before me in some horrific fashion. I would see the life leave her eyes as she told me she would find me again. She always did, no matter how much I hid, she would instantly grab me in a hug and happily say "where have you been hiding" before kissing me like she couldn't get enough of me. She never blamed me for her deaths, I sometimes wished she did. We both know our relationship was cursed to fall before her 30th year. Someone or something would tempt a friend or sibling into a jealous rage and they would kill her. It was just how it was, no matter how much we protected ourselves, she always died as blood would cover the ground while I wailed into an unseeing void. So it was a painful surprise when mom came in one day, with my love gripping her hand tightly. She looked so small then in her child body but her eyes shown with dark humor at her situation before she tackled me to the floor. Only words leaving her as we hugged were "going through puberty again and remembering, is going to suck".

Things were great at first. We did everything together and slowly relearned our love for each other from friendship to a romantic relationship. We got into a lot of mischief which led us into many punishments and awkward situations. Mother grin at every moment of it and was happy for us. I couldn't have loved my mother more in those moments. But something started hovering over us when we turn 21. Mother started getting more protective of us and my siblings. Mother's eldest children were always seen coming and going rapidly through the week. Some of her eldest children seemed to grow more and more vicious as they stole money from the house. The dark followers would yank them away from us when we would work outside in the garden, speaking in harsh voices as they went into the house. Mother's face was constantly forced into a frown as her eyes showed deep sadness and disappointment. It was odd to my slightly fractured mind how mother could raise such horrid people. But my soulmate always told me "you can't blame everything on the parent for how their child turns out, sometimes things are just outside of the parents control."

When we turned 30, my soulmate was brutally tortured and murder by some of Mother's eldest children. The pain of feeling her life slip away all over again was excruciating because she thought this was going to finally be our happy ending. She strokes my cheek as she choked on her blood, her body was carved up in symbols. The carvings were so deep that I could spot her bones underneath, not that she had much weight on her in that moment. Something in me broke completely at seeing her that way. I'm not proud of what I did but damn did i enjoy it. The dark followers and Mother brought them to me, passed out and threw them at my feet. I looked up in surprise mostly because these were her children. Mother gave me a dark look full of hatred as she said they weren't her children but they are your blessings. I didn't understand completely what she meant but I also didn't care.... I enjoyed smashing their heads under my foot, I enjoyed ripping each and every bone from their screaming bodies before looking into their eyes as they breath their last breath. I painted the walls in there blood as Mother watched with a sad smile. I destroyed them through the night as I couldn't be bother to shift back to my human form. At this point I was just a feral beast mourning their soulmate. I passed out as the sun greeted the day, in a pile of bodies and broken furniture.

I didn't talk for years after that day. I hid away with Mother, only working around the house but remaining unseen. I couldn't look my siblings in the eyes after everything even if they understood. They gave me the space I needed but always left me gifts or snack with little notes attached about how they were doing and how much they loved me. I cried so much those years, I couldn't even pull my self out of my isolation to greet my nieces and nephews. Everyday it took longer and longer to change into my human form and even harder to hold together. This time it felt like I lost far more than I ever imagined.

When I was 40, Mother said it was time to finally get my blessings. I still didn't know what she meant so I just shook my head and curls up in my bed and wrapped my wings around me. Mother wouldn't take no for an answer and lifted me out of my bed. I panicked because Mother was never forceful with me even after everything. I couldn't stop the panic attack that invade my mind and didn't hear my mother trying her hardest to calm me while I screamed then everything went black. I awoke in a soft bed with silk sheets, clothes set out to be worn and robes hanging behind the door. Mother was sitting in the chair near the bed I was in, her eyes were closed but she was not resting. I whimpered because I thought I was finally being punished for everything that happened but Mother just pulled me to my feet, told me to get cleaned up and dressed. I obediently did as I was told and even made sure to groom my damaged wings. Wings that I had to grow back after in a moment of weakness and too many bottles of the strongest alcohol I could find.

She put a blindfold over my eyes and held my furred hand as she led me around. I had no clue where I was or who was there, the scents were so new that it felt like the place popped up overnight. When we came to a stop, I tensed at the one familiar scent. I started crying, sobbing at what mother was doing to me. I couldn't understand why she was punishing me this way before gently hands removed my blindfold. I gave a shaky gasp at the sight before me. It was a my beautiful ethereal soulmate, the love of my many lives, right there in the flesh, with tears of happiness in her eyes. Her eyes are what threw me off, they were a misty green color which was a contrast to her deep brown almost black eyes of before. I flinched at the voice that spoke to everyone in the room. My soulmate held me close as the being spoke. The being was named by the dark followers as The Guardian. I thought it was a myth of some crazed but loving cult. I was terrifyingly wrong, this creature was all consume like the void given form. They spoke about my pain and how my family step in to bring me peace. They told me the woman at my side was my soulmate brought back from death through a union of souls. The union was so deep that no matter the situation neither will pass on until they chose to and that they will never feel the pain of heartbreak ever again. I though I would pass out at the amount of information being thrown at me by the being holding my future. I shakily asked what the catch was and they grinned back along with the woman and teen at their side. The smiles should have been horrifying but all I could do was calm down and give a small smile back.

After the events of that day and getting my love back, things have been great. I still have a lot of setbacks but The Guardian and Mother found me a great therapist who also happened to be the same breed of creature I am! I'm still growing as a person in many ways even if I feel older than the trees in my front yard. The pain still comes back from time to time but my family takes care of me well and I'm really and genuinely happy for once in a long time. I guess this is my first and last letter to you but I just wanted to thank you for stepping in when you did and bringing me to Mother so many decades ago. I know you paid a price to force me into this life as a way to give me happiness. I hope to one day see you again my very first father and I love you even if I do not know you.

Sincerely your beloved daughter,

Akasha Dawnshard

[pcndemoniums]

Skins inspired series: Our Youth (1999 - 2002) / Our Wasted Youth (2020)

This is a loooong request so bare with me. Be aware that these guys have known each other since the age of 16. They’ve had their ups and downs through the years but in the end they have managed to stay friends. 

[ tw: mentions of underage  drinking, sex, mental illness, eating disorder, substance abuse, suicide, overdose, bullying and death ] 

The Shows

Our Youth was an American teen comedy-drama television series that followed the lives of a group of teenagers in the fictional small town of Madison, California. Its controversial story-lines  explored issues like dysfunctional families, mental illness (such as depression, eating disorders, post-traumatic stress disorder and bipolar disorder), adolescent sexuality, gender, substance abuse, autism spectrum disorder, death, and bullying. In a time where most TV shows about teenagers were unrealistic affairs propped up by a cast of actors at least 10 years older than their fictional age, Our Youth changed all that by depicting realistic portrayals of teen characters who slept with each other, went to parties, drank a lot, smoked weed, and talked like the kids they were. Much of the controversy around its early episodes criticized its portrayal of sex, bad language, and explicit drug use but it was always careful to temper the hedonism with consequences, the comedy with tragedy. The show premiered on 25 January 1999 and went on to be a critical success. However, real life drama became too much for show runners to handle and the show was cancelled after three seasons. It ended on a shocking cliffhanger that left most viewers outraged and heart broken. 

After the show ended the cast went their separate ways, trying different things to maintain their success but the bad reputation that came from the show seemed to follow them around. Some of them went on to star in low budget films and others completely fell off the radar. For years there have been talks and rumors about a possible fourth season of the series but it was not until early this year that it was announced that the show was going to be getting a second life. Netflix acquired the rights to the show in 2018 and finally announced that they were starting production at the end of 2020 with the original cast in tow. The fourth season of Our Youth has been renamed Our Wasted Youth and will take place 20 years after the events of the third season finale and will chronicle how the teens, now adults, are dealing with the ghosts of their past. 

Behind The Scenes

So this show was a big deal back in the day. As far as aesthetics go then think of the show Skins, the UK version. It was mostly based on a group of kids who lived in the same neighborhood, went to the same high school and were involved in a lot of shenanigans. They partied a lot, got in trouble, sometimes they learned a lesson or two - most times they didn’t. Some critics loved it because of its realism, but others found it too controversial for television. It did not help that the cast, all between the ages of 14 and 16 at the time, were pretty much left unattended to do whatever they wanted and they didn’t choose to sit and study. There was a lot of bad behavior behind the scenes, scandals, fights, drama, etc. Life imitating fiction if you will. To the point where the show was cancelled after three seasons. They decided to end the show in dramatic fashion with the hits involved in a horrible car accident. The last shot of the show was that of the car wreck and the fate of the teens was left to the imagination. Yeah, people were pissed, demanding a resolution. Honestly at this point there was so much hostility that the actors were just glad that it all ended. I mean these guys were all hormonal teenagers, getting fame and money, so you can imagine what went on behind the scenes.

The show still had a huge fan base, even if the actors were not particularly famous anymore. They all had a hard time getting decent work because they had this very bad reputation of being disruptive. In 2010, Kurt Davidson, who portrayed Gus Chandler, was found dead in his home from apparent drug overdose. The actor had been fighting a long battle with addiction and it was during this time that the actors got together and had a little reunion with fans. They resolved their issues and started to become really good friends. There was a media outcry surrounding Kurt’s death though and an article was published on various news sources about the dangers of exposing actors to the drug culture at such a young age. Any hope that the show would come back was lost after the death of Kurt Davidson. But then in 2018 it was confirmed that the show was coming back to Netflix and was scheduled to start shooting in 2019. However, things got a little sidetracked and people started to think that the show was already doomed even before they started shooting. Thankfully things started to brighten up and the show started shooting in January of 2020. This new season will deal with the repercussions of the accident and how the characters are dealing with adulthood. It will have 10 episodes and they are currently shooting episode seven. Because of the tight schedule, these guys have been spending a lot of time together and who knows, maybe there’s the chance for a lot of new drama. 

Now because I’m crazy, here are the characters of the show and their little arcs, just so you can get an idea of who you’d like your character to play.

Main Cast

Lukas Larsen ( 35 - 36 yo - character name - open face claim ): Lukas Larsen is an attractive, intelligent and popular boy. His manipulative ways often go unnoticed by many, and are a catalyst for the majority of the events in the series. At first he appears to have complete control over his friends, exudes confidence and has an answer for everything. He enjoys being the driver of drama and prides himself on being some type of puppet master. In the effort to keep his life perfect and interesting he does things that even the most self serving person would never do. He plays with people’s emotions. He plays games because he can. Furthermore he does not feel bad about those things until he loses control. As the series progresses we see Lukas lose control of himself, his friends and of the situation due to a distorted sense of self and an exaggerated sense of importance. We end the series with Lukas behind the wheel of the car and driving everyone into a ditch. NEW SERIES: In the new season Lukas is a lawyer, married and with kids. However, he is incredibly unhappy, cheating on his wife with Evie Nixon and getting involved in scams. We learn that the accident left him in a coma for seven months and that he had to relearn to do everything. Even though it looks like he has not learned anything on the surface we see that Lukas is carrying a lot of guilt for what happened and is seeing a therapist in order to cope. 

Evie Nixon ( 34 yo - tbd - Kat Graham ): Evie is  the youngest of the group as she skipped 9th grade. She is initially described as being "the sweetest girl you will ever meet". However, it is shown that underneath her sweet exterior, she will resort to anything in order to keep the power in her grasps, even at the expense of others. She starts the series off dating the head jock boy of Madison High. However it’s quickly revealed that she’s dating him more for status than for romance. When we meet the couple, they’ve yet to have sex and t is revealed that Evie is actually a virgin and is scared to ‘give it away.  She faces a lot of criticism throughout the series, having to deal with her parents divorcing, an abusive older boyfriend and an addiction to antidepressants. However, she eventually learns that her manipulative ways are damaging to others and by the end of the series she becomes a much better person. NEW SERIES: The accident changed Evie. She became angry and distant. Evie is divorced and has a seven year old boy. She has two jobs and no apparent social life which makes her a little bitter. She is having an affair with Lukas Larsen but hates every second of it. 

Gus Chandler ( 35 yo - Kurt Davidson - NPC ): Gus is Luka's best friend, but has an entirely opposite personality. He lacks confidence, is socially uneasy and struggles with school work. He often suffers from panic attacks that he learns to control over the course of the series. He tends to put himself down a lot, especially when it comes to his relationship with girls. He loves comic books, loves science, is very friendly and playful and treats everyone with respect. Gus learns to be more self confident and to stand up for himself which earns a lot of respect from his friends. By the end of the series Gus is engaged to Nancy Buckley. NEW SERIES: We learn that Gus died in the car accident. Some people believe the decision to kill off his character is a bit polemical since the actor died in real life. However, the series creators have stated that having another actor play the part of Gus felt wrong and that they needed the accident to have a serious consequence. “Kurt Davidson is still a huge part of the show and his character’s death  is the driving force of the new season.” In some way that is true since a lot of the show revolves around the 20th anniversary of Gus’ death. 

Nancy Buckley ( 35 - 36 yo - character name - open face claim ): Luka's girlfriend. A girl who can never stay angry at his mischievous behavior for long. Outwardly, Nancy appears shallow, vain and conceited but she works hard and is emotionally mature. She is seen by most as a beautiful and confident girl but she suffers from the same insecurities as everyone else. At the beginning of the series she is dating Lukas and is always trying to make him happy. Eventually she realizes that the relationship is really toxic and distances herself from him. She and Gus start to get closer which causes a lot of complications and arguments between him and Lukas. By the end of the series Nancy learns to value herself more and she and Gus form a beautiful and healthy relationship. NEW SERIES: Nancy suffered a lot after the accident and the death of her fiance and that includes reconstructive surgery on her face which has made her feel really self conscious. She hasn't been able to keep a serious relationship and is emotionally closed off. Currently she works in real estate and seems to be leading a successful life. She has decided to be a surrogate for Ivy and her wife's baby. 

Ben Morrow ( 36 yo - Dean Montgomery - Paul Wesley ): Ben is the party animal of the group. He has a difficult home life; he lost his brother to illness at a young age, and is an emancipated minor due to his ambivalent father and absent mother. When we first meet Ben he is presented as a fun loving pill popper who is always encouraging his friends to have fun. As the series progresses we learn that this attitude is just a front and that Ben’s life is actually filled with pain and rejection from his parents. His father is a crook and his mother has done porn her entire life, which has been a constant embarrassment for Ben. Ben is very volatile and unpredictable and unlike Lukas he very easily loses control of the situation. It is hinted that he is bisexual but it was never fully confirmed. By the end of the series they are rushing him to the hospital as he is overdosing inside the car. When we see the car crash we are left to assume that he definitely died. NEW SERIES: Shockingly Ben survived the accident but it left him with a lot of emotional scars. Unable to find a job he has turned into a life of crime that includes petty theft and drug dealing. The first time we see him again he is getting out of prison after spending six months behind bars for robbing a liquor store. We learn that Lukas helped put him away and that Teddy posted his bail. He also has a lover named Sean who also provides him drugs.

Cara James ( 35 yo - character name - open face claim ): A friend of Emily, an odd girl who suffers from an eating disorder. Cara attempts to hide her own struggles with mental health while her flamboyant parents ignore her in favor of their new baby. We first meet her as she returns to Madison High after spending months in a rehabilitation center. Cara is very observant, aloof and incredibly understanding. To her everything is magical. Her positive attitude gives the show a sense of hope when things get really bad. She and Ben Morrow have a very close relationship that was a constant will they/won't they throughout the series.  By the end of the series she manages to overcome her disorder, and makes plans to leave Madison and travel to Europe. NEW SERIES: Cara made it to Europe after surviving the accident and became a famous model which caused her eating disorder to resurface. After a few scandals and the fact that she is not as young as she used to be, Cara returns to Madison and tries to reconnect with her friends. She finds out that this is easier said than done. 

Teddy Vargas ( 35 - 36 yo - character name - open face claim - latinx ): is an easy-going skater who likes to smoke weed, and as the more sensible and responsible friend, he is often put out by Luka’s behavior. Teddy is forced to act as the leader of the group whenever Gus has a panic attack or when Lukas takes things too far; he is by far the most reliable in a crisis. We learned that his mom took her own life after battling depression and he has always resented his father for not getting her help. He has a very ambitious sister who always looks for the spotlight and manages to get all the attention from his dad. Teddy is always looking to save people and wants what is best for everyone. He is very compassionate and selfless but at the same time he knows when to put his foot down and always stands up for himself. NEW SERIES: Teddy suffered a leg injury and therefore he has to wear a brace. It was hard for him since he was always into sports, especially skating. He became a teacher and is currently the new high school principal at Madison. He tries to guide his students and keep them from doing the same mistakes he did as a kid but he is finding that to be challenging. He and Ben are good friends and we learn that he posted bail for Ben’s early release. Teddy is engaged to Molly Larsen.

Ivy Porter ( 35 - 36 yo - character name - open face claim ): Ivy is coming to terms with her identity as a lesbian. She is used to being the shadow of her sister, and is sulky but perceptive. As the show progresses, she begins to come out of her shell and strives for individuality. Much of this is due to her becoming okay with her sexuality and her feelings for Poppy Drake. She’s a kind and idealistic person but at the same time she can be selfish and passive aggressive. Her relationship with Poppy has its ups and downs but by the end of the series they had decided to stay together and make things work. Ivy was the only one who was not involved in the car crash because she and Poppy were spending the night together. NEW SERIES: Even though she was not involved in the accident Ivy was still affected by it since she was very close to Gus. We learn that she and Poppy broke things off and decided to stay friends. We also learn that Ivy married a woman named Susana and that they have asked Nancy to be their surrogate. Ivy struggles with the idea of starting a family but doesn't know how to talk to Susan about it.

Supporting Cast

Molly Larsen ( 33 - 34 yo - character name - open face claim ): is Luka's younger sister, and shares many of the same qualities as him. She is mysterious and manipulative, but almost mute. We see more of her in season 3 where she is involved in a love triangle and gets involved with a teacher. NEW SERIES: In the new series we learn that she managed to get her life together and is soon to be married to Teddy Vargas. 

Poppy Bird ( 35 - 36 yo - character name - open face claim ): Poppy was Ivy’s on and off girlfriend during the first three seasons of the show. She is very carefree and open minded but at the same time very guarded. She had a difficult time coming to terms with her sexuality which was the cause of a lot of drama between her and Ivy. Eventually she accepted who she was and declared her love for Ivy. NEW SERIES: We learn that she has moved away from Madison and is currently living in Arizona. However she comes back for two episodes to tell Ivy that she has a terminal illness. 

Susana Santoro ( 35 - 36 yo - character name - open face claim - POC ): Ivy’s wife. She works as a veterinarian and has three younger sisters. She is very cheerful, caring and incredibly perceptive. She wants to start a family and knows that Ivy has her doubts about it. 

Tommy Mills ( 35 - 36 yo - character name - open face claim ): Evie’s ex husband who works as a bouncer at the local strip club. He comes off as being extremely rude and seems to have a violent streak. We learn that Evie left him because of his constant drinking and cheating, which is ironic considering she is having an affair with a married man.

Sean Michaels ( 35 - 36 yo - character name - open face claim ): Ben’s lover and drug dealer. Definitely a terrible influence in Ben’s life but at the same time he seems to actually care about him. We learn that he has a sick daughter and that he started to deal drugs in order to pay for her treatment.

Other Cast  

There are other characters on the show that have minor roles like Luka’s wife, some friends, enemies, whatever. Let me know if you’re interested in playing a minor role. 

Crew

Executive producer ( s ):

Director (s):

Writer (s):

Casting Director:

Costume Designer (s):

Make up artist (s): Margot Montgomery, Ashley Benson, 29

[mindofanaturaldisaster]

People can’t change unless they themselves want it. There is beauty in the vast way people can be different they can have different ideas, opinions, attitudes, styles, mindsets and dreams. I embrace the beauty in the difference.We all have our own dreams some might be similar in some ways but each are molded to each of us. And we take certain steps to reach for them maneuver different ways depending on our way of being.

My dreams are to be happy to travel the world to have my own space aparment or house that is mine. My dreams are to manage my adult responsibilities like paying my bills. Also making time to go on adventures try new things meet people from around the world. And one of my big dreams is to be loved completely and give that same love in return preferably a single person until death do us part is shit you know the long hall. I had always dreamt of traveling the world so I took steps I joined the navy and experienced a lot and also realized if I’d be exploring the world I want to do it on MY terms no restrictions. So I decided I am going to get my passport save some money and travel when I can. It took me forever to finally travel anywhere that wasn’t in my own state. I traveled to Miami and Vegas and they were both so fun times but I realized my ultimate dream is to leave so I ordered my passport express and now that this global pandemic is starting to open up the world again I will chase that dream and use my passport and reach that goal not for anyone else but for me. And I hope to have many stamps.

I want my own space and be responsible unlike others in my family who decided to move with no money and had been evicted or are constantly struggling to pay rent. In order to do that in order to have my home my space and live comfortably. I need a good career a good job and a good flow of money that can help me pay my responsibilities and have more than enough left over to put in savings and to live my life. So I found a career that interested me which was a hard part. I went to college 4 different ones had to pause while in the navy and had to push myself so much mentally to not quit and I got my degree an internship and now Steady job offers and I have options to start my career or take my education up a notch with my masters and or possibly take advantage of a paid educational opportunity that would change my path alittle but at the end I would be an MD. I have time to choose and decide what I want for ME without pressure from anyone to decide because I need to choose something that will serve ME not anyone else. So I can have my home or apartment and no major financal stress or be drowning in bills. So I’m still reaching for that dream and I know I will get there because I want it.

I want to be loved completely for myself not for how I dress how I look what I have achieved or what can be potentially taken from me or what I can give to someone. For the person deep inside which is flawed in some ways because bobodys nerfect is ultimately a beautiful genuinely good person at the core. I have loved and been loved. But I want the that forever love. That won’t be easy as I know I have stumbled I have fallen and I’ve hurt and been hurt. But it’s what I want what my dream is, is to one day be with someone that loves me and that I love too. Slowly learning each other then livng together, Travel together and eventually way down the line get married and even further down the line when WE are both ready or at least we think we are because I hear you can Never really be ready have kids to have maybe one and to love them completely and protect them as best we can.

Love is tricky Its a complicated dance. I can love people the way I wanted to be loved. But never take the time to carefully see if the person I am giving all my love to ONE can handle the love I am giving. And TWO can handle giving me the love I want back. And the most complex thing about love is that people define it DIFFERENTLY keyword. And you can find someone who loves you and you can love them but do your visions of love match? There are different love languages too, in which people show their love and affection in different ways. which is tricky too trying to find what yours is or whichever you lean to most because even with that isn’t definite and also balancing that out with some else. I define love as this. Love is a dance it’s a balance of give and take. Not all take not all give. And even not always giving the same amount at the same time. Sometimes a partner may have days or weeks where they need a little more and vice versa. Love is respecting each other. Love is caring for each other. Love is being faithful and loyal to one another. Love is helping each other. Love is growing it’s changing and it’s about balancing the changes when they come and making sure when the waves of change come and shake things up each is willing to keep each other from drowning. Love is a commitment that shouldn’t be entered into lightly. Love is a commitment to learn the person in all their goodness and even at their worst. Love is being honest. Love is trying. Love is loving someone enough to know if you can give them what they want and knowing if they aren’t giving you what you want. love is know when you can’t give and being honest about it.

Loving people can hurt and for most people WILL at one point or another. Loving someone is knowing how to love yourself. Because with out love for yourself how do you know If you are really even being loved? Some people prey on the loveless and take advantage of that for their own gain. It’s sad but true. Without love for yourself how can you tell if you are really even giving love? Without love for yourself the love given to you is a foreign language thus untranslatable. Without love for yourself it is Easy to be fooled into thinking you are being loved. And it’s easy to mold and trick people into thinking you are giving them genuine love. Being without love for yourself can make it so you actively do things that harm yourself. You can surround yourself with harmful people or put yourself in harmful places.

So I want to love myself which I thought I was doing just fine but realized I need more work. More work to fight the demons that can change my whole person. That make me angry with the people around me. The demons that don’t want me to have love to be happy. I have to constantly talk about my issues (with professionals) and uncover all my skeletons and face all my issues. I need to change my own harmful behaviors and habits that reenforce hurt. I had and realized that some part of me deep inside wants me to hurt wants me to struggle and I have to take my time to relearn how to be. So that part of me changes and doesn’t exist anymore. I do that by knowing what I want. I want to be happy, and I want to be loved and love in return. So even if it scares me and makes me uncomfortable and leaves me so far out of my comfort I want to get there . Because sadly being hurt and hurting is my comfort I push people away when I’m scared I argue and try to find reasons why the love and happiness I’m feeling aren’t real. I dig and look for things that can potentially hurt or end up hurting people in the process. I’ve gotten comfortable being alone because I know how to hurt me the best. And I’ve gotten good and pushing people away. Because I don’t want them to see me or know that I hurt myself or I didn’t want to be so vulnerable and let them hurt me. It’s control & pain. I both things I still actively need to work on.

So I will change Me. Changed the bad habits I learned. Changed the things I had gotten used to doing that would cause the same results. Let go of the things I cling to because with attachment comes pain. And I will change me because that’s the only thing I can do to get to my picture of happiness which can also change with me.

I will remove constantly negative people who drain me of my energy. I will remove myself from harmful scenarios and harmful people because although I do see good in people and try to give people chances. Others don’t think the same and others wouldn’t think twice before saying something or doing something that would hurt me. So I can be kind but I will protect myself at all cost. I will remove myself from people content with having no dreams or ambitions. I will remove myself from Those content with coasting through life with dreams they will never even try to chase or ideas or goals they have but never try for. I will remove myself from people who expect the world handed to them without even trying to put in effort. I will remove myself from people who have given up on themselves, because I want everyone to try and I have used up my energy trying to motivate inspire and encourage people who just don’t see it in themselves. As much as it pains me not to try and hold on to hope for them it cost me my energy and time and I can’t be wasteful with such precious things and I cannot waste it trying to encourage change in someone not willing to live for themselves.

I will surround myself with people who are dreamers even if they have dreams some might consider crazy they still have dreams aspirations and goals for themselves and for the future and are actively trying to reach them. want the people around me to be dreamers. I want the people I love in my friendships and in romance to have ambitions and always be reaching towards them even if they stumble or take a break for themselves at times they never give up and they always get up and keep reaching. I will always be a dreamer I will always be someone who fights for myself with myself to change and get to my goals and dreams that will always be me. That is me. My best friends have been and now will always be dreamers. the woman who comes into my life that I will want to spend my life with will be a dreamer who doesnt give up who doesn’t need to be taken care by me or anyone. She will be a fighter for herself and her dreams.

I will continue dreaming and reaching for my goals for happiness and for ME.

[splintersfeelings]

A Story about my Father - first draft, 3/11/2020

I smiled a smile of relief, a relief born of a year of work and growth.

“I made it. I graduated. I’m going to be teacher.”

I want to remember the path I took here. Remember, remember, remembering…backwards, because the cause is always before, buried in the clues that had no meaning except in hindsight.

 Like all stories, we start at the beginning. Away from this bright summer sun.

 A little boy was born in a hospital into a loving family, followed by his two younger brothers. He was an energetic, playful kid, a bit of a prankster. The nuns never liked him in school, and he was always getting in trouble for his practical jokes. He learned his sense of humor from his own father. The nuns called him Felix, because in this place, it wasn’t enough for the colonizers to take money and lives – they also had to take people’s names.

 I sat in bed, reading webcomics off my phone, basking in the artificial glow. A long day teaching, a short night to rest. How did I get here? What was I doing? Thinking back to all those mistakes, all those missed opportunities. Things that could have gone better, things that could have gone worse. Getting ready for another long day, I leaned over and shut out the light.

 As I dreamed, I wondered if this was the right path for me. Sneezing, I popped a pill to manage my spring allergies. Ready to leave. Ready for another day.

 A student cries during math. They’re afraid and unsure. They think they can’t do it.

 But they can. The work is hard, I tell them, because we have high expectations in this room. We work on adding and subtracting decimals.

 At the end, the student smiles.

 He was happy growing up. Or was he? It was hard to remember. When his father died, it tore his family apart. The three brothers slowly grew apart over the years, pushed by a grieving mother. She wanted him to be the head of the family. But it was a weight that no one, especially not one so young, should have to bear.

 The first day of student teaching.

 He didn’t want to let it consume him.

 The snow fell outside. I sat at home sick, waiting down the hours until it was time for my next dose of antibiotics. But all I really wanted was to be back out there, in that classroom, starting winter quarter, growing and learning and teaching. Giving back some of those opportunities that someone else gave to me.

  He didn’t feel safe at home, where he knew there was abuse waiting for him. But there was no safety at school either. Not from bitter and jealous classmates. Not from the unsympathetic nuns. On a bad day, maybe the cold, hard slap of a ruler’s edge along his bruised knuckles.

 What is a good teacher? The leaves were red, dropping from the trees onto the damp, Seattle pavement. I want to become a teacher that empowers students. I want students to learn to learn, to teach themselves. That’s a bit of an irony. A teacher’s goal is to make themselves obsolete. To put themselves out of a job. Build a world where everyone has access to learning, where everyone can learn from themselves and each other.

 Fortunately (or unfortunately), making yourself obsolete as a teacher is a tough job. So – we work, we scaffold, we learn to speak oceans in 2 short sentences, we ask questions that are simple. So simple. And yet, they must carry the weight of the world.

 He kept getting told that he was stupid. That he was lazy. Why didn’t he study? Why couldn’t he memorize? He was almost ready to believe them. Maybe he was stupid. But he didn’t believe them. Not even after they made him repeat a grade.

 It wouldn’t be the last time.

 STR? What is STR? I flipped through the website application. It would be good to move back to Seattle. My leave of absence had made me bitter. I was feeling sick of feeling stuck in grad school, of finding no passion in the research that had once excited me as an undergrad. What was the point of studying race, of studying injustice, of studying power, only to write papers that only 10 people would read?

 I attached my resume and hit submit.

  It wasn’t as if he wasn’t trying. But he just couldn’t sit down and read. When he looked at the words, they began to swim and blur together, and he’d simply doze off.

 But his creative energy wasn’t put to waste. He developed progressively innovative strategies to cheat on his exams, writing scraps of paper and tucking them into shirt sleeves, books.

 He only got caught some of the time.

 When I got accepted to UW Early Entrance, I cried. It was a big oppurtunity, a chance to escape from the terror of high school. A chance to prove myself. I knew I had to go, because if I didn’t try, I would regret for the rest of my life. I was hungry to learn, to read, to solve, to grow. I just needed to place and the people to help me do it.

 It was a big adjustment, moving to Canada. A strange place, with even stranger people. Hong Kong’s humid, tropical climate was a whole different world than the icy snow in Edmonton. He met the woman who would become his wife there, two diasporic roots. Interestingly, they would probably never have met back home – they lived in different worlds, one in Kowloon and one on the Island.

 Many nights, he went to sleep hungry.

 He repeated two more grades.

 It was hard to practice English. But he’d already gotten used to being called stupid, and lazy. He didn’t need anyone else to tell him he mattered, because he knew it already in his heart.

 But it would have been nice to hear it from someone else. Just once.

 The thing I remember most about getting kicked out of school was the shame of telling my dad. I was worried about what he’d think about me. If he’d think less of me for finally failing to live up to his high expectations. But he surprised me by giving me a hug. He told me that he was proud of me, and that if I did what I thought was right I should have no regrets. This was the turning point when our relationship started to improve, and I learned to see him as a human being. Someone with their own, silent story. Someone with their own ghosts, their own demons, their own long forgotten battlegrounds.

 His TOEFL scores were too low to get into University of Alberta, where his then-girlfriend was attending school. He ended up at the University of North Dakota. He had always loved tinkering, putting machines apart and putting them back together. He ended up studying computer science.

 When I was in 3rd grade, I stopped writing. I didn’t do my homework beyond short, terse, one-word responses. My mom was distraught because she knew I was able to say so much more verbally than I could show in writing. She spoke to my teacher, who had noticed a similar pattern. What was holding me back from writing, when I was reading more than a year above grade level?

 I didn’t know how to express it at the time, but writing was physically painful for me because of how hard I had learned to grip a pencil.

 I relearned how to write cursive. My teacher let me type up homework assignments instead of handwriting them.

 I had people who believed in me.

 He graduated from UND in 3 fast years, cramming in coursework to make up for lost time. His student visa expiring soon. He advanced 400 dollars on credit, took a train to Seattle, and declared he would work for Bill Gates.

 A week later he got hired at Microsoft, just before his student visa was expiring. He would stay there for decades.

 In 1st grade, I was behind in reading. I loved my phonics group with all the other Asian kids, working on sounds and letters while the other students read easy texts. When I was graduated into the grade level reading group, I was upset at not being with my friends. But I grew quickly.

 Even though I didn’t enjoy reading, I loved being read to. I had adults at home who read to me all the time. And I spent all that time listening, thinking, learning.

 When he got married and his wife moved to Seattle with him, they knew they knew they eventually wanted to have a family. He wanted to raise a child who was loved, who was believed in, who was surrounded by adults who would help him reach his full potential.

 The bright light shined in my eyes. First breath. Faces. He looked at this child. Who was this beautiful boy? Who would he become? There was so much going on. So much change. Would the boy become like him? Would he struggle the same struggle? Would he repeat as many grades? It’s scary, to have so little control over your body, to be exposed to so much beyond comprehension. A blur, a smell, a sound. Small, pudgy hands waving. You don’t need to cry. You don’t need to worry. You’ll learn so much here. I was passed to warm, waiting arms. Your path might be hard. But I’ll make sure it will be just a little bit easier than mine was. Because I’ll always have at least one person who always believes.