#also ik i could just be like a good chunk of fanfic writers and go fuck it i'm writing that fic even tho i don't understand how to write

[friedricebunny]

fanfic writer kdj is a idea that sometimes bounces around in my head but honestly i'd have no idea where i'd even go with that idea (also tbh i'm not confident enough in my understanding of kdj or anybody's characterization to want to write them)

[jewpacabruhs]

I was reading your tags and please, for the love of God, write a Mafia AU. I haven't been able to find any good ones.

i wanna so bad! i find organized crime fascinating, & i’m also a big movie nerd, with crime films being my fav genre, so im super into that sorta thing. definitely would love to see it, but o boy, maybe ill jus write it myself?? gotta do everythin myself haha

i’d def go the historical route, so it’d be interesting to try to both apply characters that are firmly rooted in 90s/2000s behaviors & beliefs, and stick them in the 1900s. oh, boy, writing historical stuff is a pain. so much research. worth it tho, if it’s done well. aye, and it’ll be cool to try to keep it as nonfictional as possible. like, attempting to insert the kids (as adults, obvs) into crime history. i wonder if i could do tht? it’d be fun. it’s definitely uncharted waters. there’s a lot of potential there.

but, hmm, i think mafia aus are so rare in fandom (not just the sp fandom, but across the board) bc they contradict everything that’s popular in fanfic. mob aus would feature violence, business, finances, and corruption. whereas fics prefer cuddles, leisure time, a world where money aint an issue, and wholesomeness. and considering the majority of fic is written by horny and/or love-starved teenage girls who dont know or care about the aforementioned subjects, it makes sense. kinda a bummer, but understandable. in the defense of like everyone, lmao, those sorta fics take a lot of planning, & aint nobody got time. so i get it.

oof i think a major thing too is how gay-centric fic/fandom is, when the mobster world is undeniably a heterosexual one. thats an issue. shit, i wonder how many gay characters i could get away with while keeping it realistic. i mean, im sure there were gay mobsters, in fact i’ve read about a couple, but the lifestyles did not go hand in hand, lol.

IM STUPID NO ONE CARES ABT THIS DUMB SHIT HERES IDEAS

i’m thinking 1940s new york. im inclined towards kyman, as u probs kno, but again, the gay thing. huh. maybe i can figure it out. maybe theyre young bachelors, and theyre business partners & fuck around sometimes. we’ll see. anyway. if we’re gonna include all characters….

cartman would pull a goodfellas - he’s of, what, german descent? hell, considering his parents, he probably wouldn’t even exist in this universe. eh. well. he’d def be from yorkville, manhattan, cuz tht was a german neighbourhood. anyway he’d weasel into the italian mob, bc he’d be into the idea of 1) exorbitant amounts of money, and 2) being feared/respected. his authoritah! psh. and someone would notice how smart he is & mentor him, regardless of nationality. he’d quickly make enemies, though, because he’s rude & brash. he’d also quickly become one of the most respected young dons (would he reach that level, without a family? doubt it. he’d have to become a made man, which i believe is reserved exclusively for italians ….. ehhhh ill figure it out. maybe he’d branch out, start his own crime family. that’d be interesting. ooo.) damn, ukno, i think the 40s would make a real interesting character out of cartman. huh. yah, that’d be cool to explore, how that time period would shape him. like i said, he likely wouldt even exist. did the denver broncos exist back then? doubt it

kyle would get wrapped up in the jewish mob (which existed, and which i’d personally l o v e to be a part of lol - if i was born 100 years ago), maybe while trying to protect ike from getting involved? that’d be cool. maybe he’d demonstrate his brains & be offered a job as an accountant or an attorney, and he’d be forced to comply, either bc 1) his fam was threatened if he declined, or 2) his fam was doing bad financially & needed it. maybe both. hell, maybe he avoids the jewish mob & gets involved with the others. MAYBE IKE IS THE ONE IN THE JEWISH MOB & WANTS HIS BROTHER BACK FROM THE ITALIANS. OOOOOOOOO also they’d be from brooklyn, likely, bc that’s where jews were primarily located back then. u kno there was 400k jews in new york in 1899?? including my great great great grandparents. that’s a shit ton of jews lol. lil fun fact for ya. 

wait ok so oof this is hard now, bc the mob was primarily divided into three chunks - the italians, the jews, & the irishmen. there was also the puerto ricans, but that was, like, a different division. i’m mentioning this because nationality was important to mobsters, to all organized crimes groups actually, but south park doesn’t make a habit of mentioning what countries each character’s ancestors came from, lol. so it’d be a lot of writer interpretation. and that’s cool and all, but doesn’t give me much to work with, considering most of the kids are white and likely german/england-descended. 

i could make kenny & butters irish. that’d work. i think kenny’s last names irish, actually. they could be from hell’s kitchen, which had a p hefty irish-american population. maybe i could make stan irish, too. wendy might be able to pass for italian (little italy manhattan??? maybe the bronx??? im tryna think geography lol. for scale.). that’d work, if i wanted to put some stendy in there, bc i love making stan the token het guy, haha. maybe wendys dad marries her off to stan to form an alliance between the italians & irish. that’d be interesting. maybe cartman was rallying to get wendy to marry him, bc he needed to marry someone bc of, like, societal expectations, & she was the only girl who caught his interest. maybe he declares war on stan, to win back the bride he wants. maybe kyles best friends w stan, tht happened somehow, & interjects. goes to meet cartman to discuss a way out - ohhhhh theres my kyman babay!!! oooooo!!!

omg. plot forming. this is def an interesting concept. maybe i can use it as a chance to write a plot-oriented fic that doesn’t rely heavily on ships. that’d be awesome. i’ve wanted to do that for ages.

maybe we can squeeze christophe in as a french immigrant, maybe an associate of someone. same with gregory, but, like, british. that’d be fun. craig & tweek can be somewhere in there, too. associates of cartman or something. maybe they own a brothel. oooh. who else. bebe! maybe she can be a cabaret dancer who someone falls for. nothin wrong w hetero nonsense if it’s done right & if it aint nonsense. yah? maybe she can be ken’s love interest. also maybe token & nichole can be in there somewhere, from harlem?

this sounds fun as fuck, though, def. im really obsessed with new york right now, so maybe writing this could be a love letter to its history. that’d be dope. ooh, and im from las vegas actually, born & raised, so maybe i could do a chapter set there, considering the mob was very influential in the strip’s development. that’d be rad. holy heck. im excited abt this now. gotta finish oboitd asap & get into this, haha.

o shit. i jus realized, like, just how much research i’d have to do. like, not only about organized crime, abt 40s slang & dress, abt new york, abt everything. oooh boy this is a Project

ill get on that eventually haha, im into it now. it’s 4am rn tho so ima sleep, gnite anon

[bakugou-ou]

Ik I'm anon and all, but I don't wanna get off it because the embarrassment would probably make it worse. I'm just tired of life… mines is pretty useless if you ask me, and according to everyone else who if ever met, I'm ugly too, I wouldn't kill myself because I'm too much of a coward to do that, but I don't know what I wanna do with my life and I can never be happy without someone ruining it That's why you and other creators' story helps me, it makes me think about my dram life I'll never get

Listen, friendo, whoever you are, you’re not ugly, and not useless. You don’t need to come off anon if you don’t want to, I get it. This is gonna get v personal here in a sec, so I’m putting the rest of this down under a cut in case no one gives a shit about my personal life and doesn’t wanna see my tragic anime backstory, but I’m sharing it with you because you said that you like my writing. This is the story of how I ended up running this blog, it’s got lots of talk about suicide, mentions of rape. It’s not pretty, so read at your own risk. Also, it’s long.

When I was four years old, I tried to jump off the balcony of my apartment, I wanted to die. It wasn’t a kid doing a stupid thing, I literally thought if I fall from this height and hit my head on the ground, I will die and then went for it. I fell onto a 7ft tall cinder block mailbox on the way down, four feet below my balcony, crawled off of it, and walked back upstairs to my parents like nothing had happened. 

What was wrong that someone barely past toddlerhood wanted to kill themselves over? I don’t know, maybe it was just that my parents were fighting all the time and hated each other, maybe it was because I have the genes for it. More on that last bit later.

When I was six, I tried to throw myself in front of a car, thinking that if a small child like myself got hit by a car going 25+ mph, I’d die. The driver hit the brakes, I played it off like I’d tripped into the road, no one knew how I really felt. When I’d told my parents I wanted to die, they thought I was being dramatic, they didn’t think a kid my age even knew what that meant, the finality of it. But I knew, and I craved it.

When I was eight, I tried to hang myself in my older sister’s bedroom with her sheets. She found me, took me down before I blacked out, and we never spoke about it again after that night. I was pissed with my sister for saving me, I cried and punched her as she held onto me.

When I was twelve, I tried to eat a bottle of Xanax, thinking it would kill me. It didn’t, it just made me really, really fucking sick. Not sick enough to go to the hospital, but very sick. I had no lasting organ damage, but I still wanted to die.

When I was fourteen, my boyfriend dumped me over the phone on a day he was supposed to come to my house, and ignored me while I cried. He had me on speaker phone, actually, and his friends were laughing about it and I could hear them. I could hear him laughing along with them. So, I decided to eat a bottle of asprin for dinner a couple of weeks later. I was stupid, it didn’t work, and I was hospitalized in the mental ward for 2 weeks.

When I was seventeen, I had just left an abusive relationship, graduated high school, and my mom told me that my ex raping me repeatedly for 9 months was my fault and that I was asking for it by continuing to date him the whole time. I was too scared to leave, I had been told by a counselor at school that no one would believe me. I tried to eat all of my antidepressants. I was hospitalized for 3 weeks in the mental ward.

When I was eighteen, I tried to do that same thing again, in conjunction to another thing my mom said about my abuser. My cousin had been raped while studying abroad, and she was talking about poor cousin, your poor cousin, it’s so traumatic, but when I mentioned that I’d been abused for three quarters of a year and no one batted an eye, she told me I was being selfish, and that my time for being the victim was over. How dare I detract from my cousin. So, again, I tried to eat a bottle of pills. I was hospitalized for one week in the psych ward.

Earlier this year, at the age of twenty, I was hospitalized because I felt like I was going to slit my wrists if I stayed home. So I checked myself into the hospital. I was there for a week while my doctor tried to find better meds for me because clearly mine weren’t working. My mom had told me that she was ashamed of my sexuality and my gender identity, and the rape issue came up again, with her saying I wanted it, that I let it happen.

I have bipolar II, borderline personality disorder, OCD, PTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, and selective eating disorder. A lot is messed up with me. I get the anxiety from my mother, and the bipolar II from my father. The PTSD was a gift from my ex boyfriend, and the rest I just ended up with.

When I was a little kid, I loved books; my father read all sorts of books to me, all the time. Artemis Fowl was the first series we read, then Harry Potter, then my mother read me the Chronicles of Narnia, then my father read me A Series of Unfortunate Events. We also read other books, things that weren’t series. I loved reading, and I wanted to write things that made people feel the way I felt about the stuff I read. 

Both of my parents are naturally talented writers. At the age of six, I began to write fan fiction for Harry Potter. I was way too young to be on the internet, but I was online writing fanfics on snitchseeker. Some of the only validation I found in my life was from random strangers on the internet, encouraging me to continue writing and complimenting my plot lines, even if my grammar and spelling were atrocious; on the internet, no one knows you’re a little kid writing Drarry fanfic.

I was a really athletic kid, so I didn’t spend all my time writing, but a good chunk of my free time was spent writing if I wasn’t surfing, playing soccer, or skateboarding. I didn’t have a lot of friends, I wasn’t likable, apparently, and I had a really hard time in school. I got into a lot of fights because people picked on me, but I was always the one who got in trouble for defending myself. It pissed me off. I developed issues with authority. I wrote in composition books to escape all the crap around me.

By the time I turned 11, writing was my life. I had just moved to California from Hawaii, my life was basically turned upside down, and I was miserable. So, I made a myspace account, wrote fanfic on there, and threw myself headlong into it. I have a fanfiction.net account I’ve long since forgotten my username and password for, but it’s out there with dramione fanfic, sasusaku, things that I liked at the time. I need to escape everything happening around me. My dad, my best friend, wasn’t anywhere near me, my mom was a bitch, and my demented grandmother moved in with us. It was miserable.

By the time I was 15, the only hobby I had outside of practicing for orchestra, was writing. I laid in bed on days off and just sat on my laptop, writing. I stopped publishing things after I got a mean comment once, my first one ever. It bruised the ego I didn’t even have so badly that I refused to publish anything for three years.

When I was 18, I published my first fanfic in 4 years. It was a Criminal Minds fanfic, featuring an OC and Spencer Reid. I was so fucking proud of it, and while lots of people loved it, a lot of people said mean shit. So, I posted Loki fanfic, which got infinitely more love, and then I did an alternate version of my Criminal Minds fic, that one got even more hate than the original. Then I published a Wallander fanfic. I haven’t touched them in 3 years, despite people asking me for more.

Up until this time last month, I never showed my writing to anyone. I kept everything to myself, hidden, I was ashamed of it. It is my only coping mechanism, but I couldn’t share it with anyone. My parents had my computer passwords up until I was about 16, sometimes they’d look through my text files and come to me later and tell me how amazing my writing was, and encourage me to publish it. But I never believed them.

On a whim, I started this blog; I love Boku no Hero Academia, it has given me something to look forward to every week. I live Chapter to Chapter, episode to episode, I track my time with it, it’s a coping mechanism. I saw that there was a decently active fandom on here, and I wanted to be a part of it. I hesitated on making the blog for a few weeks, thinking that no one would want to read my writing.

A month later, there are nearly 600 people here, constantly asking me to write scenarios and headcanons for them, telling me they love my writing, and think I’m a nice person, and that they’re glad I’m here. Every time I get a message like that, I cry. I never thought anyone would ever care about my writing, let alone write it. When I got a single follower that wasn’t a friend I know in real life, I cried. I was so excited. When I got my first request, I was so, so excited. When people began sending more stuff in, when people started talking to me and wanting to be friends, I cried. I’ve made a dozen friends on here as a direct result of their writing, and my writing.

I love running this blog, and I love writing for everyone. I have felt useless and like a waste of space my entire life, I’ve been told that my entire life, I’m made to feel like that every day of my life even now by the people around me, save for my friends, but when I log on here, I’m reminded that hey, maybe I’m not useless. If I manage to make even one person happy with what I do, that’s all I want.

So, you saying that my writing helps you, helps me. All I’ve ever wanted in life is to make other people happy, to please them, and my writing is apparently doing that. I’m really, really lucky to be in this position.

Even if you don’t have something like this, you’re not useless. You should be here. I know you said you’d never kill yourself because you’re too cowardly, but I’ve never seen suicide as cowardly, but that’s probably because I’ve tried to do it so many times. I’ve made a total of 8 attempts in 21 years. I don’t think I’ll be trying it again, though. It’s taken me 21 years to find something that I’m kind of maybe a little good at, that makes me even a tiny bit happy, and that does some good for other people, too.

Shit sucks, life is really awful, and I completely understand the plethora of reasons any given person would feel like wanting to die. I’ve never thought it unreasonable or dramatic to feel that way, it’s just how some people feel. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life until 3 years ago, and even now I’m unsure if it’s really what I want to do with my life. I’ve got a lot going on behind the scenes that makes me feel like shite, and a lot of the time, the people around me try to ruin what little I have that I enjoy and that makes me happy…

Even with all that happening, somehow, I’m still here, and I’m writing this. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I get your feelings, I hear you, they’re valid, and I love you, stranger. Because I feel the same way as you all the time. This blog is my escape from that. It’s really the only thing I have keeping me from my intrusive thoughts.

If you never come off anon, that’s fine, but if you need to talk about things, I’m here for you, or anyone else who needs it. Really, if I can even try to help, I’ll do my damnedest to help. I hate seeing other people feeling as junk as I do on a daily basis, I want to try and make it better. If being a friend, even if I don’t know who you are, helps, I want to help. If writing things helps, I want to do it. But, for me, it’s not just helping other people, it’s helping myself. You coming into the box helped me. So, you’re not useless. You’re keeping me here, too.