#ash: i'm bad at communicating i should work on that

[inkskinned]

i'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. and the truth is that i get frustrated with myself about it - again? we're like this still? again? it's not that i feel weak, precisely. it's just this sense almost like - i've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't i have gained more ground?

i get frustrated because i'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. i get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - i lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. i stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and i let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. i panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when i'm better, i'm embarrassed because how could i let it get that far?

it feels like - i already have done this so many times. isn't there a way out of it? isn't there a point where i've just... won? that it never happens again, that i just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, i guess - that i still (so often!) succumb.

i am used to it, so i forget exactly how hard it gets. do you even know how many times i've laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - i can't anymore. i just can't. i'm not even really upset. it's okay. i've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... i'm just... done.

do you know how many times i woke up and i said - i can't and put my feet on the floor and said i can't, i don't want to and took a shower and walked the dog and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said i really can't, there's no end to this and i went to work and i called a friend and i made myself cookies even if food tasted like ashes and decided that i really should wait for the new album from that artist i love and i thought i can't, it's not worth it and then i washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said i can't, i can't, i won't do this again, and i paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often i closed my eyes and thought this is it i really fucking can't, something has to give and i have nothing left that it can take and then i went to bed and i got up and i fucking survived anyway

yesterday the local ice cream place opened up for the first time this season and they were giving out tiny samples of their new dairy-free options and i tried a mango sorbet. three months ago i was positive that februrary was going to be my last month on the planet. i am teaching my dog a new trick and i just discovered a new band i love. i got a plant from the clearance aisle and repotted her and she's been perking up. i made salmon for alison and we ate it in her new house with her new beautiful baby girl. my manager told me he keeps recommending my work to others just because i always include a stupid number of puns. tomorrow i'm trying a new dance class. tomorrow i'm maybe going to buy more plums.

i forget, you know? it's not some bone-deep strength or some magical power. it's that some part of me knows - i need to stay. in all of this; out of all of this - i just want to choose love.

[neonovember]

Coming in HOT with some ANGST and FLUFF, having SUCH an intense emotional fight with Carmen one night. Maybe you’re both arguing about the opening of The Bear or finances or even just with communication in your relationship, Carmen just snaps about how you weren’t always this hostile. Just losing it on him and in tears crying out “YOU LEFT!! YOU LEFT ME CARMEN!! I understand what happened with you and your brother, but you just fucking left and didn’t even say goodbye!! You know how AWFUL that made me feel?! Like all of a sudden after everything we’d been through! It was like suddenly I was another face you just cut out and forgot about. It took me MONTHS to stop even just thinking about you. And then when you came back? It was as if nothing happened, but I was SO happy you were back….and now you always act like I’m some inconvenience that’s always in the way!!!! So what do you WANT Carmen?! Do you want me to stay or is this another New York situation?”. You can see Carmen’s heart shattering in his face as he just crumbles at the end begging for forgiveness 🥲. It ends maybe with the both of you holding each other in the kitchen “I’m so sorry” “No no….it’s okay….I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that…”

All for you

this request was so good! your brain anon..😍 i hope i did it justice, this is part one of two because i always seem to be extending things that should be a one shot! i'm thinking part two should be from carm's pov? what do you guys think??

warnings: shouting, self deprecation, angst to the tenth power, no happy endings, carmen is so so so bad at communicating, unresolved tension/anger, new york carmy!

Loving Carmen was a lot of things. 

It was the smoulder of colours brushed onto a canvas, it was the crash of waves in the middle of the pacific, fighting and thrashing against each other until it took you under and below. It was the spoonful of honey that eased the bitterness, it was beyond your control. A love so smouldering and bright that you didn't quite know if your heart could fit it all.

But it was also difficult, like dragging a 50 pound steel anchor every way you went. You were forever grateful to have Carmen in your life, again at least, but it wasn’t exactly like the things that he had struggled with before he wasn't struggling with even more now. 

You were patient, you tried to be at least. When he wouldn’t pick up your calls for hours, when he was so caught up with work he forgot to eat, when he was so caught up with work all the last of his energy was spent on you and not himself.

You loved Carmen too hard to let him destroy himself for his work, even if he hated you for it, you couldn't watch him crumble and break from the stress of the restaurant and the overwhelming pressure he put on himself. 

Especially when you saw him begin to unravel before you, melting hot wax crackling and setting form. He had begun to throw back bottles of pepto like it was water, crunching on tums like popcorn any chance he got, and it wasn't like the restaurant was doing bad, in fact it was doing amazing. Yet, it was that fact alone that made Carmen get worse, made him slip into the sinking black hole that told him one moment away from the shop, one glance off of his work and it would crumble into ash.

You had seen this in New York, where he would call you during the depths of the night, the sound of his stuttered sobs breaking any resolve you had left. You had raced to throw on a jacket and bring a pot of soup to his place even when he protested. You fed him whilst he shook against you, you whispered stories until he fell asleep, you kissed his curls.

You wondered if he knew.

You find yourself doing the same thing now, like an endless dance you both are bound to, every rational part of you wants to hate it but you can't deny the way your heart shimmers in want. Your mind moves with the familiarity of it, chasing after him like a game of cat and mouse.

Only this time you live with Carmen and not in a dingy shoebox in New York holding back every ounce of love you wanted to pour into him. 

Carmen’s mind was forever connected to food, it was something so automatic it fell unconscious under his skin. You found amusement in the way he’d stand in the middle of your apartment living room in quick critic over the late night cooking shows that you would turn on whilst waiting for him to come home, or the coffee around the corner he swears isn’t actual beans. 

But your soup, and anything else you made was something he had always reserved with a certain adoration. He’d whisper into the anonymity of your neck under the covers, recounting how your food was akin to a warm hug, coming home to the smell of cookies and a house of laughter and light he wished he had growing up.  

You hoped he had actually eaten something today, but it was that belief that evaded your mind as quickly as it came when you reminded yourself who Carmen was. It was push and pull, and you would be damned if he didn't finish your food and then some.

Your job allowed you to work from home, and you don’t know if it was your laziness or intelligence that enabled you to make it so that you only had to work a couple hours in the day. It was sometimes strange to Carmen, how you could be able to find love and creation in something without putting everything into it.

Carmen was always watching you, he found peace in it, the moves and motions of you all over the apartment, the scent of your body wash, you toothbrush next to his, you were a movie right in front of him and he would watch you for eternity if he could.

You turn into the back of the Bear, parking between the faded white lines before turning off the engine and staying in the car for a moment. You hated the cold, and your breath had already begun to blow out misty clouds every time you exhaled. Collecting the warm container of soup and a sandwich you quickly jog towards the restaurant, taking the back door when you notice Manny leaving.

“Hey Hun, how ya doing” Manny nods towards you with a warm smile

“Hey Manny, just coming to get Carmen to eat something other than tums” 

“Chef is definitely wound tight, mix up on a new delivery of some kind of fruit? Forgot the name.. It's spiky and smells like when we moved out those ovens and found those burnt onions and stock stuck to the floor” Manny replies with a wince as you both recall the devastating smell that hadn’t left your nostrils in weeks during the renovation.

“Uh, Durian?” You reply and Manny clicks his fingers at your reply.

“That's it. That mind of yours is really something. He hasn’t taken a break since the morning, but you always have a way with him” Manny raises his eyebrows and you shake your head with a laugh

You only remember that particular fruit because Carmen had been obsessing over a new menu item that included it as its main component. He had spent sleepless nights perfecting it, despite it being utterly magnificent the first try. You couldn’t shake him from his work, it could consume him for months if he let it, and you feared he was at the precipice of falling into that hole once again.

You walk through the back hallway leading up to the main kitchen, passing by the tired hunches of the shoulder dressed down in crisp white shirts and aprons. The Bear had a late start today, Sydney suggested opening a little later for a full dinner menu rather than lunch as well and the turn out had shocked you all.

It also meant Carmen came home even later than he already did during those nights, you’ve had to damn near carry him to the bath to get him to not drop dead the second he came home. You didn’t mind however, you couldn't deny the faint thrum of your heart content as you washed Carmen’s hair whilst he lay against you half asleep. 

You spot Sydney at her station, and you quickly walk over to see her prepping for dinner, the swoop of her knife cutting into red meat in a kind of curve you knew she had perfected over the years.

“Hey Syd, early start?” You say, once your side by side with her

“Oh don’t remind me, can you believe the L got backed up from all the ice last night? Added a whole 45 minutes to my commute” Sydney groans out, shaking her head as she turns to you. Grateful to have a reprieve from her repetitive cutting.

“Goddam Chicago, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve got a bottle of wine with your name on it in my fridge and it is dying to be opened and shared by two very, very tired women” You reply, smiling at the way Sydney raises her eyebrows gleefully at the thought.

“I am holding you to that, as soon as we get through today. God, this new dish Carmen has thought up is kicking my ass” Sydney replies, and your ears chirp at the mention of the man you’ve been looking for.

“Speaking of Carmen, have you seen him?” 

“Yeah, I think he’s still in the office, been on call with one of our vendors cause of the mix up with the--”

“Durian, yeah. Thanks Syd” You reply, giving her a nod before making your way to the hallway leading into the office.

You hear Carmen before you see him, the sound of his loud voice seeping through the cracks of the door. His voice rises as he gets more and more agitated, and you don’t miss the sound of a cup being thrown against the wall as the phone call continues, not waiting a moment before firing back muffled words you can hardly make out except

“Unprofessional” “waste of my time” “fuckin’ dick”

So yeah, you thought it was definitely a good time to walk in and get your extremely agitated boyfriend to eat your soup.

Just as you walk through the door, you see Carmen slam the phone back onto the receiver, shouting out obscenities at the object as he throws his chair back onto the floor. Years working together has made you unfazed by his outbursts of anger, though you have been sly in trying to get him to go to therapy so that he doesn't get an aneurysm over the phone with the Wifi company or something hilariously trivial.

“Hey Carm” You say, whilst closing the door, and Carmen look up at you in surprise, his features sobering, as his eyes relax into a comforting gaze.

“Ah shit, sorry bout that, just some stubborn, pig headed vendors who don’t want to fix a problem they fucking caused” Carmen replies, his chest rising rapidly as he takes sharp inhales of oxygen. 

He turns to face you and you take in the sunken look of his cheeks, the skin a little discoloured like he was sick, and his hair dishevelled and falling flat against his face like he's run his hand through it too many times.

“Jesus Carmen, have you gotten any sleep?” You reply, instantly as you make your way over to him, pressing a hand on his shoulder.

Carmen shudders against your touch, shaking his head as he leans back and away from you. You stumble as you look down at your hand now inches away from his shoulder in confusion. Carmen never turned you away from him, in fact during those unforgiving times of anxiety and anguish, when he felt the entire sky falling, you would be his anchor to bring him back.

The fact that he had visibly shuddered when you touched him made your heart ache, and it hurts even more when Carmen notices, the guilt spilling into him.

“Just been so busy” Carmen replies, his eyes darting everywhere but you, as you nod with a tight smile, backing away from him.

You reach for the soup you've left on the edge, placing it on the desk and you nod to it

“Have you eaten today?” You reply and Carmen stops watching you, blinking slowly as he tries to remember the last time he's actually consumed something, before coming up empty and shaking his head up at you with a groan.

“I thought so, you need to eat Carmen, how can you expect to function let alone run a restaurant if you aren't at your optimal level” You reason, leaning against the table, with your arms crossed against your chest.

“It’s fine, I was just gonna grab something small” Carmen waves you off

“Actually, I brought you food right now so I think it would be a perfect time-

“Is that why you came? To micromanage me like some toddler” Carmen suddenly replies, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you through half lidded eyes.

“I- what? I didn’t-”

“I can run my restaurant blindfolded with my arms tied behind my back, alright? I don’t need you to come and patronise me like you know every goddamn thing” Carmen spits out, and you can't help the way your blood runs hot, the rhythmic beat of anger pounding through you like a hammer.

How fucking dare he

“Excuse me? I came here for you Carmen, not some self-righteous moment to say I'm better than you. God damnit, is that what you think? I came here to make sure you didn't faint and fall into a pot of boiling hot water” You spit out, Carmen looks up at you, hes blues swimming in ire as he lets a humour-less laugh rumble through his chest.

You felt all the things you had kept a lid on begin to tumble out of your mouth, and soon you’re anger morphed into a building current. The flashes of everything that had gone wrong, the lack of communication, the coming home late, it all has begun to accumulate rapidly and you let it consume you in its entirety. 

“Sure, of course,” Carmen sings. “I’m not your fucking child alright? You are my goddamn mother so stop treating me like you need to make sure I eat 3 times a day and have my nightly bath. I’m a grown man-”

“Then ACT LIKE IT!”

Carmen looks up at you in surprise, his brows knitting as his head swivels back from your outburst. You had never screamed at him, in fact, Carmen can’t remember a time where you had screamed at anyone like you did now as you stare him down deviantly. Eyes burning with a fiery anger that begged to be stoked. Carmen knows this, your hands shake in tight fists like your seconds away from swiping him, and he resorts back to his usual self destruction of turning back and running away. 

“Yeah, yeah that's right, walk away, walk away like you always do. Carmen, soon enough you're going to have to face it you know? You’re gonna have to face your fucking issues before it destroys us both” You scream, and Carmen pauses, causing you to stumble. Carmen turns around to face you in the middle of the hallway, the rush of anger present on his cheeks, causing the veins to bulge out on his neck and he looms over you

“Issues, I have fucking issues? You’re screaming at me because of goddamn soup”

“It’s more than fucking SOUP!” The screech of your voice bounced across the thin walls of the restaurant hallway, your throat begins to burn as you begin to swallow down the emotion bubbling within you. You want to reach into him and rattle his neck, force him to see the destructive path he was taking, force him to do anything but turn away and shut you out.

A quiet trepidation falls over the entire kitchen as they watch you both fight, it was unheard of, an anomaly that seemed wrong, like someone had gotten a couple from the street and put your faces on it.

Watching you both fight was like watching a performance. The way you both leaned into each other menacingly, neither of you backing down, there was an indefinite energy that bubbled between you both, you were seconds away from shocking each other or making out. 

“What is it then huh? Why are you acting like this? You expect me to read your goddamn mind? You’ve changed alright? Everyone can see it, I can't even recognise the person in front of me half the time” Carmen sneers, his neck turning a crimson red as he clenches his jaw painfully. He’s holding himself back, his body shakes with it, the tight clenches of his fist stopping him from putting a hole in the wall or smashing a chair.

“I’ve changed? Me?” You cut yourself off with a chuckle, Carmen shifted his gaze as his eyebrows knot in confusion, and when you catch a glimpse of his face you can’t help the booming sound from crawling up your throat, keening over as the sick sound of laughter rocks through your body.

The rest of the team now watches on in horror, you were laughing, why are you fucking laughing?

You try and gulp down the uncontrollable fit of laughter, you can practically feel your body shift down into the jagged memories from all those years ago. From a place and time you had shuffled into a no named cabinet and thrown into the deepest depths of the ocean. 

You didn’t want to remember, you begged your mind to forget, but as your laughter slips into sharp inhales, you already can taste the wetness streaming down your cheeks, and slithering down the slope of your neck.

Your sob’s rack through you, winding you until you hunched over, reaching out onto the wall to steady yourself and trying to find footing as the ground caves beneath you.

Carmen recognises it in an instant, taking a tentative step forward, raising his arms before dropping them in a second, like he was approaching a volatile animal.

“Fuck, I’m sorry I-” Carmen starts, but you’ve already raised yourself from your hunched position, the tears dripping into the linoleum floors and splashing onto your combat boots.

You didn’t want to face that time in your life again, but Carmen has practically forced you too, and there's no way in hell you weren’t going to drag him down into that bordered off well. Fuck being the bigger person.

“No no, you spoke, this is my fucking turn now” You grunt out, the rippling grief leaving your body in a flash as you sneer over him.

Carmen gulps back a retort, his mind re-circuiting, trying to figure out your polar behaviour. Carmen knew better to interrupt you now, in fact the restaurants was a pin drop quiet, safe for the whooshing sound of the central air corn, and the sound of Carmen's stuttering inhales.

“YOU listen to me” You spit, pointing a finger, pressing it into Carmen's chest so hard he stumbles back

“You fucking left me Carmen. You! You- just, you dropped everything we had, everything we ever built in New York and you disappeared. And it was Mickey, and you needed to be there and I got that, I get that, but you- you just left me there.” You grunt, biting back the swell of emotion that erupted when you thought about those years ago. 

“You became a ghost, and god,- you could have told me, after everything I thought we had- you could've told me! But then you didn't. And I was left to pick up the pieces, wondering if you had ever loved me, wondering if I should have given half of myself to you whilst you couldn't even call me back” You stutter out, shocking back the onslaught of tears as you swallow around the lump in your throat.

Carmen’s face pales as he registers those years ago in New York, the immediate look of guilt and anguish twisting his features as he leans onto the wall for support.

Even after all these years, all this time, you still felt it like it was yesterday. All your work had become undone, the thin veil of healing had been stripped back to bare bones in an instant, and you hate it, you hate it so much. Why couldn’t you have packed up and moved on? Why did you have to fold back into yourself at those memories? You don't know what you're seeking now, vengeance, restitution, it all becomes blurred in the heat of it, and god have you wanted to strip your skin and wake up restored since that night.

“You ruined me for a year Carmen. I was a shell of myself because of you. And then you called me that afternoon and you know what? I wanted to throw my phone into the fucking Hudson. I wanted to rip my hair out and scream and hurt you like you hurt me because the truth was I already forgiven you before you even apologised. And you never did. And I still wanted to come back to Chicago for you.” 

“Honey-” Carmen's strained voice shudders at your words, and you can make out the red of his eyelids, the tears collecting at his lids.

You hold up a hand, stopping Carmen from speaking, tears begin to form at your waterline, threatening to break, your vision blurs, the features of Carmen’s tormented face becoming wobbly and undefined. 

You were so sick of crying, you were so sick of it.

“And I won’t ever make you keep paying for a mistake for the rest of your life, I let go of that anger because you needed my help and in some way, I fell in love with you all over again, I was able to make peace with it.” 

“But you don't think I know you Carmen? When you overwork yourself to death you can barely eat? When you get bad again at calling me? When you were good, you were the best person in my entire world, but when you're like this?” You shake your head into the empty space between you, hands waving in front of you. 

Carmen looks torn apart, his hair falling flat against his forehead, his hands in tight fists as he shakes his head against your words. Begging, on his knees, begging for you to stop, to stop saying those things that came from your mouth that were not true. His body shakes with it, the gushing feeling of guilt, it washes over him in waves.

His mind is going a mile a minute, every thought of work, of that mismatched order he had to deal with, of the vendor who refused to deliver, it all went out the window the second your face contorted in that heart aching way. He can't lose you, every fiber in his being yearned for you, he lived for you. And here he was losing you, like a brush of paint across a canvas.

You were slipping from him every second you stood there with tears dripping down your cheeks like a stream.

“You’re the one that's changed. You're the one who's always changing. Don’t throw it back at me just because you can’t see it” You mutter with a shake of your head. Your voice carries a finality with it, and you jerk from Carmen when he takes a step towards you. You can't breathe in here, and you pass by the concerned gases of the rest of the Bear, shaking your head and moving away from Sydney, before dipping back into the busy streets of Chicago. You bite your tongue the entire way until the taste of copper fills your mouth.

Folding yourself into the huddled waves of mundanity, leaving your soup and the last bit of your aching heart on the bench of Carmen's office.

[rei-ismyname]

Charles Xavier - Poor Little Meow Meow?

I've been ripping on Count Chuckula pretty mercilessly of late. I don't feel bad, per se (because it's funny) but he does have his moments. A full examination of his actions and legacy is a much larger project, one I've been working on for months. You'll have to wait for that. Here's a couple of recent Professor X moments I think were cool, or at least interesting. Such as his twinkish babygirlification meets beast mode Godkiller.

Totally wholesome kidnapping

JK, he's holding Mother Righteous accountable here. She's the wooooorst, trust me on that. Very mean and just betrays everyone, but not in a fun way.

Who hasn't wanted to kill God? They definitely deserve it. Especially the Old Testament God 🪓💣that dude sucks. Chuck is super relatable here.

Took the L for all of mutantkind. Martyred himself, rather. It's hard to criticise people when their actions have such high stakes, you know? 'The Butcher of Krakoa' is a wild epithet for Xavier - I wonder how long it'll stick. Not especially relatable to my life experience but I have to respect the difficult position he's in here. Also, despite all that stress he managed to achieve some high quality murders. Credit where credit is due.

Gives Sally Floyd a new personality for a while at her request. It's not quite so cut and dry, but his RotPox actions are recontextualised as scamming ORCHIS (which saved all of existence.) MF just needs to learn how to communicate.

Has a complicated chat with his old boyfriend. There's definitely some bitterness here but he does genuinely wish him well. They should have fucked, but that's not really his fault. Sure, he could have propositioned Mags here but he doesn't look very comfortable and Wolverine just tried to kill him. We all know the Master of Magnetism could crumple his confinement like paper and move dick to mouth in seconds, but maybe they're not into public/dangerous/conjugal sex. *AHEM* I'm sure I had a point here.

I love their conversation so much. Krakoa wasn't doomed to fail - mistakes can be fixed and people grow. It's huge for Magneto especially, and therefore Charles as well. This is the synthesis of both their misguided ideologies. Solidarity, intersectionality, nobody is free until we all are. The oppressors are everyone's enemy. Strength in numbers. It's not an easy fight but it's been won many times before. I'll definitely come back to this dialogue, though I need to see how From The Ashes follows it up. It's a writer's dream, frankly, but fumbles are common and even intentional. Joy is fleeting and the struggle never ends.

I've reached Tumblr's image limit. What are your favourite Chuck moments?

[dontbelasagnax]

MISSION SUCCESS MUHAHAH I'd take any of the prompts from you really, so how about 21? Wildcard! Dealers choice! My only request is that it's in-universe 😚

(if you can't decide then maybe bloody kiss? I did once say that you writing angst would be the ultimate win for me)

Alright!! I've finally finished this first prompt!! Both of you, @lightasthesun and anon, wanted bloody kiss so here we are. Ann, since you wanted angst, I believe I am delivering that. However. You must know I'm not an angst person so I cried three times while writing this despite knowing it has a happy ending. You will pay somehow.

Pairing: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,851

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, First Kiss, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

All things considered, Cody probably should have seen it coming.

[ OR: Cody gets shot off a cliff. This is obviously quite dire. If he's got one chance left to kiss Obi-Wan, he'll take it. ]

(fic under the cut if you wish to read here on tumblr)

All things considered, Cody probably should've seen it coming.

He didn't.

There was a moment, just one, where he looked over his shoulder at his General and their troops. It was oddly peaceful, trudging forward together. He had a passing thought that moments like that were rare.

He was on a cliff. And then he wasn't.

Somewhere amidst the blast, the rush of blood in his ears, the icy lurch of his stomach, and a panicked thought that he really should've worn his jetpack, he heard a shout.

It might have been his own voice. He couldn't be sure.

The fall was rough. His body seemed to find every jutting rock off the side of the cliff to bounce off of. He says bounce. The gravity on this planet is stronger than most. It was more of a solid collision straight down with the weight of his body rolling him off every surface he met until he fell straight through air to what he thinks is the ground.

He blinks rapidly, spots of black dancing across his vision. Breaths come out shallow and laboured and- is it silent? Where's the sound? Is it- there's a high pitched ringing and-

"-ody! Cody!"

The spotty sky is cut by blurs of Obi-Wan. There are lines down- oh. His visor must be shattered. Nevertheless, he doesn't like the expression on his general's face.

"Cody," it's husked out, too harried and somehow gentle at once.

"Sir," Cody tries to say. It comes out raspy and gurgled. His mouth tastes of iron. This isn't good. "Did you-" a cough wracks his body and it's perhaps the most painful moment of his existence, "jump?"

"You know the answer to that."

Against his better judgment, Cody feels compelled to sit up at that. He can't quite pinpoint which part of his body protests most. It all turns into one searing blaze of pain. His vision blurs.

He heaves a great stuttered breath which seems to hurt almost as much.

He knows it's bad.

"The men need you," he tries.

"At the moment you need me more."

"Sir."

"Cody, please."

Cody closes his eyes. Breathes as shallowly as he can. A tear trails down his cheek. He swallows dryly. "Can't move."

"Oh, Cody."

"Can you- helmet?"

There's the hiss of his bucket coming unlatched and then it's tugged free.

With the increased range of vision, he glances down at whatever he can make out of himself. It's not pretty. Plastoid is somehow painted red and his left arm seems to be twisted at an unnatural angle.

Yeah. He's not making it out of this alive.

He drinks in the sight Obi-Wan makes above him, hair flopped over his forehead, a smear of ash across his cheek. He's beautiful.

The warmest, kindest hand cradles Cody's cheek. "I'll get you a med-evac-"

"They cut off," Cody fights a wheeze, "communications, remember?" A wet cough erupts violently- shaking him from the inside out. Time ceases through the blinding pain. When his lungs quiet there's wetness falling down his face. Blood and tears. "You've gotta go, sir."

"No, Cody. No."

"Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan goes stockstill, staring with wide, wet eyes. Too soft. Too full of urgency and pain and yearning. He's always trying to get Cody to refer to him by his first name.

There's always a first time for everything. And a last.

"C'mere."

"Cody," Obi-Wan says even as he leans in closer and rubs a thumb across Cody's cheek. Their foreheads meet. He can't decide if Obi-Wan’s breath on his skin is comforting or exhilarating.

With all the strength he can muster, Cody tilts up his chin and closes the remaining distance between them.

A kiss.

Warm press of lips to lips. Just the hint of facial hair brushing against his skin. He can't imagine it gets better than this, even with lips as cracked as they are and wet with blood instead of a balm or saliva. It's not as if he knows better. It's his first kiss after all.

Another first and last.

It's only fitting for it to be with Obi-Wan. The person he's very privately begun to think of as the love of his life.

In another life, when he opened his eyes after their first kiss, the cause of his blurred vision would be Obi-Wan's fault alone. "Always wanted to do that," Cody croaks.

It's true. He's wanted a lot of things. A lot of simple, impossible things that will never be. But. He's dying here and now. He knows how to make the best out of a bad situation.

Obi-Wan’s expression is nothing short of cracked through and through with devastation. "I won't leave you here."

He doesn't think he's ever heard his general’s voice clogged with tears before.

"You will.”

And because he doesn't have to pretend anymore that he doesn't want to touch his general--that he doesn't want to feel his skin and share his breath and know him in the most intimate of ways--Cody reaches for Obi-Wan's hand.

In an instant, his stomach churns as his vision swims, he realizes his mistake. That was his mangled arm he tried to move. The tide of the pain is too strong to fight. Obi-Wan blurs to nothing but a smear, words turn to garbled noises and-

The world goes black.

[Beep]

[Beep]

[Beep]

Cody comes to with the groggy need to open his eyes. It’s a struggle. Seemingly with the weight of an AT-AT upon his eyelids, he blinks his eyes open to searing bright white. Immediately his eyes shut. Not to be deterred, he tries again, blinking steadily until he can see.

Sterile white ceiling. Fluorescent lamps. A flimsy curtain. Annoying beeping.

He's in a med bay.

Tubes and wires. Barely patterned sheet. A hand holding his own-

A chunk of unmistakable ginger bangs flopping onto an eyebrow. Tired eyes looking at Cody so fondly, creases of a smile drawing from the edges of his eyes down his cheeks.

“They said you'd awaken soon,” says Obi-Wan. A thumb strokes Cody's wrist.

"'m I dead?" Cody croaks. His throat is drier than the heated days on Geonosis. He frowns. Obi-Wan is here. That isn’t right. "Are we both dead?"

"I should certainly hope not.”

So. Not dead.

Well.

That's unexpected.

“Wha-” Cody's throat catches on a cough and he splutters roughly.

“Here, here, dear.” Obi-Wan’s there with a cup of water, directing a straw past his chapped lips.

He sips the water down gratefully, satisfied as it soothes the parched gravel of his throat. He tilts his head away when he's done and Obi-Wan puts the cup down.

“What happened?” Cody tries again.

“How about I tell you later? After Egg has checked you-”

No. That won't do.

“Sir,” he interrupts, unyielding, “Sitrep.”

Obi-Wan must be tired because he doesn't even try to do their usual mutually stubborn staring match; he just sighs. “Ghost company managed to infiltrate the Separatist base and contact the admiral to request reinforcements and med-evac.”

Cody narrows his eyes. There is a glaring gap of information. “Where were you?”

“With you,” he says plainly.

Cody opens his mouth to say something but Obi-Wan effortlessly silences him by placing his hand over Cody's once more.

“I wouldn't leave any of my men behind to die, but, you- Cody.” There is a deep ocean of emotion pooled in Obi-Wan's eyes and spoken in the two syllables of Cody's name. “I couldn't leave you. Not like that.” Obi-Wan sighs as if expelling the weight from his shoulders. "And,” the corner of his mustache twitches upwards, “personally, I think I deserve a better kiss.”

“You- what?” Cody's brain flickers mid thought.

“The kiss. I deserve a better one, “ he says with near haughty conviction. “It was rude, quite frankly, to kiss me and nearly die. Gave me quite the fright.”

Cody swallows, his mouth suddenly dry again. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

Cody's eyes cannot be dragged away from Obi-Wan's lips. As Obi-Wan sits on the edge of the bed, all Cody can see is the hint of teeth catching on Obi-Wan's pink bottom lip.

He's closer now. Closer still as he gently pitches himself over Cody.

Fuck. Fuck.

“Kiss me,” Obi-Wan breathes.

It's not an order. Not really. Cody is helpless but to obey.

He makes a wounded noise into the meeting of their lips.

Obi-Wan is so soft and warm- his lips, his beard, the nudge of his nose. His hand slowly trails up Cody's good arm, bare as Cody seems to only be wearing a med gown. Sparks dance up his skin.

As their lips push and pull into kiss after kiss, heat grows inside Cody's chest and belly, competing with his fluttering stomach, elated and happy and-

“Ahem.”

Their lips separate with a smack. Reality filters in alongside the sound of rapid, high pitched beeping. Obi-Wan pulls away, expression nothing short of sheepish.

Their highest ranking medical officer, Egg, approaches the bed. “I see you're awake and someone failed to notify me.”

“Yes, well-” Obi-Wan starts, face adorably growing pink.

Egg ignores him. “Commander, how are you feeling?” As he speaks, he taps buttons on a machine attached to the wall which blissfully makes the beeping stop. “Any discomfort? Nausea? Pain?”

Cody sets aside the embarrassment of being caught and evaluates himself. He feels… surprisingly fine. “No, nothing.”

“Good. If that changes you've got a button you can easily request more meds with. Use it; there's nothing valiant in unnecessary suffering.”

Cody nods, fully aware he needs to cooperate if he wants to stay on Egg’s good side.

"And, General,” Egg looks directly at Obi-Wan for the first time, “stop making my patient tachycardic."

"I make no such promises.”

Cody shoots him A Look.

“Darling,” oh Force- this is a development Cody had not seen coming, “I do endeavor to never make a promise I can't keep.”

Okay. Well. That's-

Egg sighs, long and weary. “I'll be back in roughly two hours for rounds. If you spill any body fluids in my med bay I'll be requesting your transport to The Resolute med bay. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” both Cody and Obi-Wan respond.

With that, Egg makes his departure, fully swooshing open the privacy curtain before leaving the room.

There is a moment of relative silence. Cody realizes that Obi-Wan is once again holding his hand. He likes it. He likes it a lot.

“That couldn't have gone better,” Obi-Wan announces cheerily.

Cody can't help it.

He laughs.

It starts small, just a huff of breath out his nose until he's wheezing, lips stretched over gum and tears dripping down his face, clutching Obi-Wan who similarly chortles. His laughter is the most joyous of music.

He's alive. Miraculously. And somehow- somehow they're doing things like hold hands now.

It strikes Cody that, although he's confined to this awful med bay bed, for the first time in his life he feels happy. He's actually, truly happy.

There's no way it can last but he hopes he'll remember this moment forever. Acting an absolute fool with the man he loves most. Happy.

[fellamarsh]

another thing i've been trying to do recently is read more self-published stuff. "but fell," you say, "you're a self-published author. surely you've been reading self-published stuff all along" and then i laugh for so long in response we both become uncomfortable.

see, the fear (which has for a long time been killing my mind) that i'll read other self-published stuff and find out that it's so much better than mine that i might as well stop writing forever kept me from doing that basically ever. i have a hard time not unfavorably comparing my work to others and had convinced myself i was being smart by withholding an avenue of de-motivation (reader: i was not being smart). it also doesn't help that i'm pretty low income and have a hard time spending money on books i haven't already read, and that self-published stuff isn't always available at the library---but really a lot of it was just me being a coward. which i'm working on. i could talk about how this particular cowardice is Very Silly, but i think enough has been said about it on writeblr and in the Writing Space in general that i don't feel the need to (though i will if anyone wants me to).

instead, i wanna talk about the self-published things i have read in the past few months and ask about the self-published things you love!

so: what happened was i got real sick, and while i was real sick i (naturally) read over 200,000 words of ace attorney fan fiction in the span of a few days. eventually i got bored of it (and also maybe annoyed at how people were characterizing some of my guys), but i still wanted to read something gay and romantic and nice, something i knew was gonna end happily, which isn't my typical fare.

now you may be saying (having gotten over all the uncomfortable laughter from earlier) "fell, you write gay romance. what do you mean that's not your typical fare?" listen. until a couple months ago i hadn't read a cut and dry romance novel since before i finished college. for context: i graduated in 2015. i know it doesn't make sense. i'm a guy who doesn't make sense.

but in this case it worked to my advantage. not the not making sense thing, but the not having read Published Romance in 1000 years thing. I didn't know where to start. I was very skeptical of everything the library had Available Now in the Gay Fantasy Romance category. what if it was all bad and also not good?

and then i scrolled past the familiar cover of our very own @ashen-crest's A Rival Most Vial.

now this was comfortable territory! this was a novel by a very nice writeblr person whose posts i enjoy! i already loosely knew the plot, i was familiar with the characters, i knew the names of things like rosemond street and the griffin's claw and that ambrose had blue hair and that at the end of it all there would definitely be Boyfriends. i didn't have to worry that this would be bad! i only had to worry that it would be really good!

but i wasn't worried about that, because i was officially Not Writing at the time, and because why the hell hadn't i read this book yet Ash literally emailed me some very kind words last year when my cat died??

Y'all, I devoured ARMV. If you haven't read it yet---especially if cozy fantasy is more your thing than it is mine---you should check it out Immediately. It was fun! It was heartwarming! It was sweet and earnest and confident! I was delighted to find it was occasionally hot! Ambrose and Eli snuggled up into my sick exhausted heart and found a permanent little place there. (Especially Ambrose. I have such a thing for Stiff Guys who Kind of Suck for Tragic Backstory Reasons and are So So Lonely They Don't Even Realize It. gawd)

(And a very small part of my brain spent the whole time wondering why I had been so afraid to really engage with the work my community is doing. The community that I'm in. The one I'm a part of. Why?! Maybe more on that later.)

But from there the curse was broken! I immediately devoured @stjohnstarling's What Manner of Man in a similar sort of frenzy (and hooooly shit guys am I excited for the expanded, finalized version to come out at the end of next month!) and started digging into @lurinatftbn's The Flower that Bloomed Nowhere (which I can already tell is going to be an All Time Favorite).

And now I want to ask you what your favorite self-published books are so that I can read them, too, but I think I will in another post that doesn't dedicate so much space to talking about my various and sundry Issues and isn't Terminally Long

[ominous-feychild]

✦ Writer Questionnaire 2 ✦

Thanks for the tag, @the-golden-comet! (And @the-letterbox-archives tagging me when I was almost done here, haha)

Heads-up! Long post!

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr? A fast and loose estimate is fine!

Two months ago to the date actually??? Or, at least, that's when I first uploaded a story here. My first actual Writeblr post was me hopping in on an open tag on the 6th of June, haha. I thought it was just a month, but looks like the summer's gone by in a flash! 😭

What led you to create it?

So, I'm a writer on Tapas! I'd been attempting to social network on other social medias (twitter and bluesky) but wasn't getting anywhere, didn't like the general formats, and uh... I'm sure I don't have to explain why I don't want to touch Twitter with a 10-foot-pole anymore. Let's just say, if you haven't seen, it's just as bad as (if not worse than) everyone says. Anyhow, I'd seen lots of Tumblr short stories on other platforms and started investigating what it's like here. Didn't know what "Writeblr" was or that it even existed, but eventually stumbled into the field after posting my short story. Thanks, @darkandstormydolls! ❤️

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

How supportive everyone is??? Like omg you guys are so sweet, idk how to take it. Also I love seeing how much passion everyone else has for their writing, haha.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

Uhhhh, I think I'm pretty open about the things I'd like people to know about me, haha. I never mean to offend, so if I accidentally say something wrong, please tell me! I'm autistic and very dumb.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

I'm ngl I keep meaning to build out my followed tags for my fandoms, haha. The only fandoms I really see things for are TMAGP (10/10, TMA is my obsession. I am obsessed. It is one of my Special Interests and I love it with all my heart) and House of the Dragon??? Except I'm not even a fan of HotD??? So that's kinda annoying, haha. (Aka, my fandom stuff, but that's on me.)

WIP it Good

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Rising From the Ashes, tragically. (Because it's one of the LAST things I should be working on right now, haha.) Otherwise, I'm of course always obsessed with the Arcane Rifts. Then I force myself to be obsessed with Sun and Shadow, though it's slowly growing on me, haha.

How long have you been working on them?

Haha, so I've historically jumped around a lot in working on different things, so these are approximate guesstimations!

Rising From the Ashes has likely had 3 or 4 years put into it/the characters. If you include the Calamity Crew (which overlaps with it in the timeline and originally ended up merging with the cast of RFtA), I'd say definitely 4 years!

The Arcane Rifts has had 5 years put into it.

Sun and Shadow is very new; I'd say it probably only has about 4 months of work in it? It's part of why I'm less interested in it, haha. Less I've put into it and less I'm attached to.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

Oh... oh dear. How could you ask me this??? 😭😭😭

Rising From the Ashes has existed since, I think, 2016. It started (tragically) as an RP starter on Google+. I wish I was kidding.

To those unaware of how it worked in that space (and likely similar ones to this day), you'd post a starter and people would join in with their own characters. 99% of the time, they'd drop out before long. However, I'd work out details of the characters in the process and carry that info over into the worldbuilding. I eventually stopped RPing with the masses and settled down with a single "partner" who I'll call Kris.

She's the one who stole my docs.

The Arcane Rifts technically originated as another RP starter? It never got attention, though, and instead my ideas for it simply carried over into the worldbuilding in general.

One of the characters of the original starter was important in the worldbuilding. It was not a character you see in the early books of tAR, though, so don't bother trying to figure it out. But, since he was so important, his origins were also important.

The Arcane Rifts started in 2019, as I wanted to make a story building out said character's origins. It was originally going to be a duology, the first book being Gene's backstory and the second being how Gene and The Other Guy's lives intertwined. (No, they were not gay for each other! 😂) It's since changed a lot, and focuses basically exclusively on Gene, haha. The last book in the series will probably be focused on the other character, though!

Sun and Shadow started for a romance novel competition on Tapas which has since ended. I didn't get to finish it in time for a lot of reasons, but I primarily cite stress and exhaustion from working full time at a physically-intensive job. It grew shockingly quickly and I had some fans donate to me related to it, so I'm kinda forced to work on it, haha. Dw--I like it! It's just harder to work on for a number of reasons, haha.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

Tragic, the questions you're asking me--

It depends, haha. I'm autistic and hyperfixate a lot. Also, for one, that's a suuuuuper vague question??? Like what do you mean "how much time"--how much time within the day? How often in general? Idk, man, haha.

I think about the Arcane Rifts a LOT!

I've put an incredible amount of time and effort into it, and I'm in love with 90% of the characters there. Even the background characters have had a lot of work put into them, getting relatively fleshed-out backstories to make their motives understandable (even if not agreeable!), and I love them all so much, haha.

Except Katerina. She's a bitch.

I also think about Rising From the Ashes a good amount, and it's invaded my brain again lately, haha.

I took a step away from RFtA and basically all of my other stories late 2021 when Kris (my ex-writing partner) and I had a falling out. It was incredibly difficult for me emotionally to look at anything I worked with her on, and obviously RFtA was a huge one (actually, tAR was the only thing of my early works she had nothing to do with). Since early this year, I've finally been able to work on it again and it's been incredibly fun removing her stuff, actually!

I think all that is a good part of why I keep randomly getting obsessed with it again, haha. It's like looking at old friends (the characters, not Kris) and being all "omg??? I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN FOREVER??? PLEASE TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU'VE BEEN UP TO!!!" except it's removing Kris's stuff, haha.

I think about Sun and Shadow a lot more than you might expect with how much I talk about not preferring it, haha. I love the characters! Crow and, actually, Valyarus especially. They're both super interesting characters, and I'll randomly find my brain working out scenes between characters interacting with them.

(The problem with SaS is that, as a book, it's incredibly different from my usual works. It's a small cast of Frey/Crow and technically Daleira, while most of my stories focus on larger casts. It makes for a VERY different experience, and so it's a lot harder to work on)

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

Actually, I've got a ready answer for this one! Until SaS, I was dedicating my time to the Arcane Rifts and had prepared the answer:

Percy Jackson meets Lord of the Rings in a steampunk fantasy world full of ✨mysteries waiting to be uncovered✨

(I'd say the "mysteries waiting to be uncovered" part ironically/accidentally mockingly most of the time, whoops, haha. I always feel awkward advertising my works.)

It was awkward when people would get actually interested in it from there and ask more questions, haha.

To clarify: that's my tagline for the Arcane Rifts! The story has gods and demigods messing with mortals, using them as their playthings and being REALLY immature babies because they don't really face consequences for their actions like PJ. Then, it's a lot more "grounded yet fantastical" like LotR, where magic is kinda infused with reality and yet you still have issues like starving to death and whatnot.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos

Name any characters you created.  Side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your ass; whomever you’d like!

UHHHH THERE'S A LOT TO LIST???

Try this for a taste! These are just the guys I've gotten colors for!

Freya, Crow, Daleira, Valyarus, Grimnir, Soren, Gene, Tazin, Mislav, Adilzhan, Ludmila, Rada, Caspar, Nikolai, Gennadi, Oska, Rieka, Liesel, Carmin, Nora, Sammy, Kieva, Caron, Varik, Elazi, Riaan, Roman, and Tiberius! (Though Tib is getting a name change sooner or later)

Who’s the most unhinged?

Unhinged in which way? There's a lot of options there, haha.

I'm going to give honorary mentions to Valyarus, Gene in the later books, Tazin, Rieka, Gennadi, and Tiberius ! (Why does it not surprise me that most unhinged characters are from tAR? 🤣 Also I swear it's a coincidence most of the unhinged characters are red.)

(... Probably.)

In general, I'd say that, incredibly ironically, the Existence of Order is the most unhinged of all my characters. She's just incredible at hiding it.

(Tbf half of the Existentials probably belong on the "unhinged" list anyway but eh. They still don't compare to Order!)

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

I'm going to give this as a tie between Gene and Sammy!

Gene has my 'tisms and just about all of my trauma, so we have a lot in common, whoops, haha. Also there's a... very specific detail about his character that makes him easier to write in general. It's just a major spoiler. 👀

Similarly and actually identically to Gene in some ways, while Sammy has a lot in common with me, he's also incredibly perceptive! (Although we don't share that fact.)

Due to the way I write, their analytical natures allow for them to spit straight facts about the worldbuilding and the people around them rather than beating around the bush, haha. Both are highly investigative, try to learn and understand everything around them, and notice small details other characters wouldn't! It makes it much easier for me to write, because uh... well here's an example of what my outlines look like.

Long story short: I include a lot of detail which I then transfer into the POV's character narration, cutting out details which they wouldn't notice or think about, haha. In Sammy's case (which that scene has Sammy as the narrator/POV character), very little information gets cut out because he's so perceptive!

(Here, as a treat--have another example!)

(In this scene, Nikolai is the narrator. Even the outline gets "filtered" to mirror the characters' way of thinking--like it's Nikolai himself seeing Caspar as "doll-like". The crossed-out stuff is details I most likely won't mention, but noted for myself, haha. I do the same thing if/when including details about the motives and thoughts of non-narrator characters.)

Do you ever cringe at them?

Gene and Sammy?

A B S O L U T E L Y .

Gene is a wreck in basically every way and desperately needs help (that he won't get until he meets Dimitry). As much as I love him, there's a lot of moments where you just can't help but wince and be all "shit, did you REALLY have to do/say that?"

Sammy on the other hand? He's a terrified, control freak manipulator who panics the moment he feels like he's losing control of a situation. It can be painful to watch, even if simultaneously fascinating.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?  AKA, do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? To what degree? Are some less cooperative than others?

I explicitly go out of my way to add backstory to and develop each and every one of my characters until they "write themselves", haha.

I want my characters to feel like real people, so I do my absolute best to make them as real as possible. (That's part of why tAR is so massive...)

Special shoutout to Dimitry here, btw. Dude COMPLETELY screwed over the planned and intended from the earliest days path of the Arcane Rifts. I've mentioned before that Gene is villain-coded, yeah? Want to know why?

Because he was MEANT to be one! Then Dimitry had to come along, be the sweetest, nicest fucking person around to Gene while he was going through the worst part of his life, and keep Gene from slipping off the deep end!

MITRY, YOU PIECE OF--

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? And do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? For example, as Asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on AO3, etc.

I absolutely love, love, love!!! people asking questions about my characters!!! 🥰

I would absolutely prefer them as Asks sent to me, and especially would prefer if separate subjects/questions were sent in separate Asks! Like, say you were going to ask me about Gene and Dimitry. I'd rather two separate Asks, one asking for whatever you wanted to know about Gene and another for whatever you wanted to know about Dimitry, haha. However, if you wanted to ask a single question about both, that obviously is fine as a single Ask!

On writeblr engagement

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account? Do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? Do you follow based on WIPs, or vibes?

I definitely scope out before I follow, yes.

I choose based primarily on the personality of the person behind the blog, but the WIPs/vibes can also have an influence on my decision, haha. I'd rather follow people with kind/supportive personalities, and I'll eventually start liking their stories even if they're not initially my thing!

What makes you decide against following?

Bigotry. Moment I see it, I'm on the lookout for even the slightest hint of more and, if I see it, I'm OUT!

(That includes things like: homophobia, transphobia, TERFs, ableism, racism, xenophobia, etc.)

Also, while I include angst in my stories, the people who are big on "I have nothing but bad stuff in my writing and I'm proud" are, uh... not on my "follow" list. While they can write what they want and enjoy it, grimdark is not my thing. Angst is best in moderation and I very purposely control the amount of it in my life.

(Also Kris's--my ex writing partner's--obsession with "grimdark-ness" is a good part of why I'm so ecstatic to remove her stuff from my writing. Yes, I've tried it. For years. I hated it. Please and thank you. Also note that I proudly call myself an evil writer, so it's not like I don't love angst, it's just--moderation. Seriously.)

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

Yes! I think a good 50-30% of my interactions are with non-moots, haha. I go out of my way to try to support my moots, but I'll definitely share support with anything that catches my attention, no matter who it's from!

To be fair, though, I think a majority of non-moots I interact with are on my mental "probably going to follow soon" list. I can be slow to make decisions, haha. It doesn't help that I try being active with my moots, so I'm trying to avoid growing that list too quickly!

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

Haha, depends what you mean by that? My brain is definitely too full of my own characters to have any space for anyone else's, but I definitely do think of others' characters at times! There's plenty of y'alls characters I really like, haha.

Just... omg, my hyperfixated AuDHD brain refuses to focus on anything except for the Hyperfixation of the Moment™.

This was a huge one! Hopefully I'm not screaming into the void with this one, or you guys enjoy finding out more about me and my WIPs.

If you're curious about the reason this is labeled Writer Questionnaire 2... well guess what!

Tagging (gently! This is a lot, haha): @honeybewrites @yourpenpaldee @paeliae-occasionally @mysticstarlightduck @illarian-rambling @.darkandstormydolls (tagged you earlier in the post haha) + open tags!

Divider from @cafekitsune!

[opossumanon]

I was reading the reblogs of a post that basically said "Don't be a doomer about Kamala Harris being a black woman and worrying that racism and misogyny will lose her the vote, go out and campaign and vote and she'll win because we made her win" (Correct) and man...

The amount of people who get so obnoxious screaming about how voting for anybody in this election is morally horrible (No, it's our basic right and duty as Americans), how the rest of the world matters too (No shit Sherlock) and how "The leftism is leaving your bodies the second your rights are being threatened" and no????? Since when did being leftist mean shooting yourself in the foot to protest someone else being hurt????

To be clear, leftism is at the end of the day the belief that all people matter, all people deserve rights and happiness, housing is a human right, food and water is a human right, self-determination is a human right, war is bad, billionaires should never exist, etc. etc.

Leftism also means THINKING instead of just acting emotionally. Gaza doesn't benefit if we refuse to vote for Harris. The Democratic Party won't go "Oh no, the people are mad we didn't support Palestine :C" and even if they somehow did it wouldn't matter because Trump would be President and we'd all be fucked and he'd bomb Palestine anyways and then take a piss on their ashes.

Also it's important to note that Harris was part of the reason why Biden started to swing to the middle regarding Palestine and Israel. Harris pushed Biden into doing a lot of the leftist things he's done. Harris can be pushed too, we can elect her and say "Congrats on winning the office, now do these things for us" and she'll be more likely to follow through than fucking Donald "I can shoot a guy in the middle of the street and people would still vote for me" Trump.

I won't be able to vote in this election, but my goals/hopes for our future as a country are

Elect Harris

Bully Harris into cutting off support to Israel and pressuring them into returning the land stolen from the Palestinians

Make ranked voting a thing

Demolish the Electoral College with exploding car hammers

Get Trump tossed into prison for his countless felonies, plus treason

For fuck's sake people, please understand that the best way to help Palestine and the rest of the world, as well as ourselves, is to strategize, and voting for Harris is the best strategy we got right now, because "lol I'm gonna firebomb a Walmart" is never helpful. It's just talking the talk to sound all high and mighty while being a lazy shit and doing nothing of import.

Anyways before I dip remember that voting is harm reduction, especially make sure to vote in all your local elections, donate if possible, be an active member of your community, pick a particular cause you can fight for and fight for it, and you'll be way more helpful than any of the dumbasses screaming and crying about "boycotting" voting...Cuz that's totally how this works [insert facepalm emoji]

[elucienweekofficial]

Elucien Fanfic Crossword Answer Key- Smut Day One

How did you do? It's our hope through this week of puzzles that folks are able to find an existing fanfiction that speaks to them! Consider these a small masterlist filled with recommendations from the community itself. Below you'll find every fanfiction recommended attached to the author who created it, added in the order they were submitted! Fics were also categorized to their best of our ability. Check them out below!

[Please check all tags before engaging!]

You Look Like Bad News by @the-lonelybarricade

I gotta have you, I gotta have you - Elain hated living next to Lucien Vanserra. Almost as much as she hated the girl he was fucking.

When You Move, I'm Moved by @ataraxiasflame

When Elain Archeron flees Nesta and Cassian's Mating Ceremony for a moment alone after an emotional experience, her mate follows her out of concern for what he feels through their bond, resulting in an evening neither had planned, but both had been wanting for ages.

I've been lost to you, sunlight (flew like a moth to you, sunlight) by @whatishowedyouinthedark

In all of her dreams, there is sunlight. That is the one constant in every single one Elain remembers after waking. And if there is no sunlight, she can still feel it beating against her skin in time with the heartbeat that has become a steady, comforting song in her mind. Sometimes it feels as if, when she dreams, she has woken from the sadness that is her reality into what should be her life.

-

or, the elucien breeding kink one :)

What We Wanted by @valamerys

Lucien’s first Fire Night as High Lord of the Spring Court puts he and Elain’s fledgling relationship in an awkward position.

The Fires Of Eventide by @animezinglife

A quiet evening. A secluded cottage in Spring.

Beasts Inside Us by @crazy-ache

“If you so much as spill a drop of her blood, I will gladly show you just what kind of beast I am. And you will find, once I’ve ripped your throat out with my bare hands, and burnt this manor and everyone inside to ash and bone, that I am something far, far worse than just a beast.”

While staying in the mortal lands with the Band of Exiles, Elain Archeron stumbles across a familiar face from her past. Only Graysen wants revenge. Her only hope is that her mate, Lucien Vanserra, can save her—in more ways than one.

About Damn Time by @strawbrerian-writes

Elain planned to have a quiet, cool day off. The universe took one look at her plans and said "bet."

They Say I Did Something Bad by @separatist-apologist

Then why's it feel so good?

Elain Archeron's fiance is a total stranger to her, though his family's reputation for cruelty and avarice is not. Dreading a lifetime with a cruel, cold man, Elain decides to have one last night of freedom. Attending an infamous masquerade ball, Elain meets a stranger who offers to show her pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. It's just one night of debauchery. What could possibly go wrong?

Oh, Lord Save Me by @separatist-apologist

“How come I never see you at confession?” he pressed. Elain almost screamed.

Lucien never saw her at confession because the phrase "forgive me father, for I have sinned," was the start of every filthy fantasy she’d ever had about him.

I'm Going Out Tonight by @separatist-apologist

He rolled his neck and Elain paused, drinking him in. Even with his red hair plastered to his face, sweat soaking through his thin band t-shirt, Lucien Vanserra was the hottest man she’d ever seen.

And bass players were so her type.

“What did you say?”

He grinned, resting a broad hand over his muscular chest. “I asked if you had a man.”

Her mind flashed an image of Graysen. Too busy with work and the woman he was sleeping with on the side. She was there to pretend she didn’t know about that, wasn’t she? Did Graysen ever answer that question honestly, besides?

Holding up her drink, Elain ran her tongue suggestively over the straw. Lucien’s smile sharpened, those russet eyes darkening with obvious want.

“I don’t remember.”

Sharp as Glass and Twice as Bright by @valamerys

When he speaks again, it’s a low rumble in his chest. “If you keep doing that, dove, neither of us is going to get any sleep.”

Heat coils in Elain’s stomach. “I’m not tired.”

[Elucien + classic THERE IS ONLY ONE BED WHAT DO.] [yes i just did one for each of my ships dont look at me im a monster]

End Game by @separatist-apologist

Lucien Vanserra has been in love with Elain Archeron for as long as he's known her. With time ticking down before her inevitable engagement to Graysen, Lucien only has one goal: convince her to be his

But Only If You Dare by @kingofsummer93

It all started innocently enough. A silly game, a drunken dare.

Except now Elain can't sleep.

And it's all because of him.

I'm Damned If I Do by @separatist-apologist

“Get it off your chest,” he told her dismissively, returning to his work.

Let her scream and yell. It would change nothing given Rhysand and Feyre were doing this purposefully to push them together. Had Elain guessed that, too? Had she decided he was the safer person to vent her rage into?

She strode into his office and, like a petulant brat, swept everything off his desk. Lucien glared, irritated with the mess she’d made—she’d inadvertently shattered a rather nice crystal vase he’d gotten from Dawn, wrecking the little blue plant within in her recklessness.

“By all means, get it off my desk as well,” he told her dryly. Her chest heaved in the pretty silver dress she wore, pressing her breasts up against the neckline. Lucien had to look at his hands to stop looking at her body, though she was closer than she'd ever been

Our Hearts Still Beat The Same by @zenkindoflove

"She stood on the bridge for a few minutes, hoping that the rain might wash away the seething anger and bottomless anguish that crackled under her skin. More, more, more, repeated again and again to a steady beat. His heart beat."

Elucien, Two-shot, Post-ACOSF. Part One is Cozy Tension. Part Two is all smut.

Can read this fic independent of the series. They are separate stories but connected by song inspirations.

Both Forever and Rather Die by @foundress0fnothing

Elain runs a sex cult. She’s looking for something new. Lucien is new.

save the date by @thelovelymadone

Elain Archeron has had a perfect life.

Prettiest girl in her grade, first sibling to be engaged and living thousands of miles away from home. But then, her then fiancé cheats on her at their engagement party after she cajoled her entire family to come thousand of miles for her engagement.

Now, after four years, she’s going to be brave. She’s going to go to her eldest sister’s wedding as the maid of honor and bring … a paid actor to be her boyfriend.

Despite the lingering trauma of her ex-boyfriend posting her phone number on Internet forums and refusal to share how her childhood crush broke her confidence at her engagement party—what could possibly go wrong?

Call Me Selfish, Call Me Wrecked by @crazy-ache

Like countless times before, they’re dangling Elain in front of him without a mention of her name. And for once, Lucien decides to selfishly take it. “I’ll marry her,” he pretends to investigate his nails, even if his heart is about to burst from his chest. “But only if she agrees to it as well. That’s my only condition.”

Elain agrees. Lucien learns the consequences of not shutting up.

A Dance In Winter by @animezinglife

While visiting the Winter Court leading up to Solstice, Elain and Lucien find some time alone.

talk refined by @temperedink

Newly mated Elain has pretty much adjusted to being fae after all this time. What she’s still hung up on? Being able to express things in the bedroom. Luckily, Lucien is totally willing to let her try that out on him.

[raccoonfallsharder]

I think I just realized based off of one of your reblogs that one of the biggest reasons I like Rocket so much is because his backstory is too fucking relatable for me

i have too many reblogs to know which one you are referring to but

i think a lot of us who love rocket do so because some part of us relates to him. i'm not saying that we feel like we are rocket (though some of us probably do) but there's a sorrowful number of people out there who know what it's like to feel unloved, unappealing, unworthy; who have been convinced (or who have convinced ourselves) that we are too ugly or petty or small or flawed to be truly accepted or to deserve acceptance; who have been alone for so long or hurt so bad that we fear togetherness; who have gifts that have gone unappreciated by those closest to us; who have had our trust betrayed by those who should have protected us; who have held ourselves up to impossible and arbitrary standards. and that's not even beginning to count those of us who have chronic pain, chronic illness, visible or stigmatizing injuries and appearances, visible or invisible disabilities, and/or just don't feel at home in our own bodies. it doesn't count those of us with some version of survivors' guilt, or those of us who have felt like we used to have people to save before we failed them.

maybe this is why (imo) the folks in the rocket fandom so often to prove to be some of the kindest and most empathetic folks on the internet

when i (we?) write rocket getting an opportunity to heal - to give kindness or love and to be able to receive it - i heal something in myself, too. selfishly, grandiosely, i hope i get to offer a little healing to other folks, too.

and. beautiful blazing bby firebird. not to be, like, combative lol but tbh it's not surprising to me that someone who identifies with the idea of a phoenix would also identify with rocket. literally his whole arc is about rising from the ashes

anyway all this to say, rocket is deeply relatable and you are in very good company if you relate to him, darling sunshine. and i believe in you. i believe that you'll find ways to overcome the things you've gone through. i believe you'll work through the impossible standards and self-doubt you've placed on yourself, and the bad things that were done to you by others. and i believe that you deserve good things - like connection and community and joy. and if you don't already know that - if you're not yet at the end of your volume three - i believe you'll get there someday too. and if you DO know that, then i'm so glad your dog days are over, bby.

[kitkatopinions]

Guess who saw another rwby Stan in the rwde tag again complaining about how rwde are using the block evasion just to freely "complain everything about the show" and how tumblr needs to fo better.

You mean like how the recent "complaint" about rwby was stans harassing a queer black woman because she criticized bumblee and many rwby stans here on tumblr were celebrating their victory of removing her video and even blocking her channel because if that criticism?

Bro, "Tumblr needs to do better?"

This is why people say that anti-rwde posters feel like a cult. What is Tumblr going to do? Posting criticism of RWBY is not hate speech or bullying lol, and that's what these guys don't understand. Yes, some rwde posters occasionally get into bullying and hate speech when they do things like say people should die or use slurs or make homophobic comments, all of which I've seen and condemned from RWDE posters AND RWBY fans (so if all rwde posters are condemned over the actions a few, so should all RWBY fans.) But the act of criticizing RWBY in any form (which is what "rwde" is) is not that, it's not the same thing no matter how many times these obsessive overly sensitive people say it is. To them, saying "I don't like RWBY" is the same as saying "I hate women" and saying "I think the romance writing for Bumbleby is forced" is the same as saying "I hate queer people," and saying "I think this show has bad and sometimes bigoted writing" is basically saying "nobody should be allowed to like this show and I'm going to do everything in my power to ensure it burns in the fiery ashes of Hell." I know this, because you can do things as simple as say "the merch in the stores isn't good" or "I'm interested in a creative re-write" or "I think Bumbleby I'd over-hyped" and you'll be sent death threats and harassed and told to stop watching and stop posting and that you've laid down with the dogs and 'fallen' and are now 'rwde' and therefore an enemy that must be purged.

Every fandom has groups of critics, every fandom gets roasted, much better pieces of media than RWBY have been dragged to Hell and back. People have to learn that no one is obligated to like or go easy on their favorite show, and disliking it or something in it is not automatically a sign of some darker bigotry lol, especially considering what company made it and that Miles Luna has a history of bigotry. Like

Tumblr isn't going to make 'don't post rwde' part of the community guidelines or stop rwde posters from blocking people so that we can be harassed. Once again, I used to be VERY choosy over who I blocked until I realized that the majority of the people who debated any of my posts weren't even sort of using logic or reality.

They're just mad that it's harder to bully us. The thing is that I would debate any anti-rwde poster that came at me but wasn't irrational and would actually address my points, but I'm not here to debate. I'm perfectly happy letting the people that enjoy RWBY and want good vibes and just like talking about how good they think the show is CONTINUE to do that. We disagree, but I'm happy they can find enjoyment in it. But they're NOT happy just enjoying the show and letting us be over here in our little corner talking about how we don't like this or that in RWBY, the fact that people are ALLOWED to criticize something they like is angering to them and something they're just and right to bully people over, because they think their show is above criticism and that they're the poor martyred heroes out here doing the Lord's work lol.

[tododeku-or-bust]

I'm not Black, so I don't want to butt into a community discussion, but I was curious about the popularization of the term African-American.

https://www.nytimes.com/1989/01/31/us/african-american-favored-by-many-of-america-s-blacks.html

This story attributes the promotion of "African-American" to Rev. Jesse Jackson and academia.

My recollection of the time is that the term African-American rapidly became both performative (the way pronoun circles are weaponized today/used instead of anything meaningful) and mocked (used by white racists when they meant the N-word).

Thank you for linking the article! I will say this; based on my current experience of the Black bourgeoisie (or should I say, African American) and who that includes in this article, I can say with 100 percent confidence that they do not always get it right nor do they always make decisions that are best for the community overall 😅. Respectability politics are a dead end and they always have been. One major example of that is how they continue to push for Kamala (and Israel) as "support of the full Black community" despite a strong presence and history of activism for Palestine. BUT THATS A DIFFERENT CONVO.

I'm not saying that African American is a bad term. If you prefer it, use it! I just... prefer Black. Even in this article, it reveals that the reason people went to AA is because there was a negative history behind "Black", and there was a need to "connect with roots". Frankly, saying "African American" is not going to change the way that they'll treat you here, connection to roots or not. They're gonna treat you like that original N word they can't use. They don't care if you're from America, the Caribbean, wherever- they see Black.

Second, they mentioned how Africa offers a place to identify with, and yeah but like... Africa is a continent. Yeah there's Asian American for example, but a lot of Asian-Americans can specifically say where their ancestry is from (Chinese, Korean, Thai, Iraqi, Iranian, Indian, etc.). For me, it reminds me of my past (which I do acknowledge), whereas Black American reminds me of what we built from the ashes. I'm proud of that identity, I'm proud that the people that were all forced here under the worst conditions imaginable found a way to work together and forge a completely new identity through the fire, and continue to do so! Yes I'm African American, but I'm also Black American, and to me, treating it as an insult or "less preferred" only reinforces that white supremacist belief that Blackness is lesser.

There's also Soulaani, I learned!

But yeah I'm not gone argue with anybody about which they prefer and why they like it. I just know that if you asked me what I want to be called, I'm going to say ✨Black✨☺️ and I can still tell when people are nervous using it.

[pokemon-ash-aus]

Ash after going on vacation from streaming to go on an adventure, then dying and coming back three times during, coming back to streaming: "Y'all won't guess what happened AGAIN during this times vacation!"

(dunno why but I'd like to think that in any pokemon world where Ash Ketchum is a streamer he's told his followers and subs about his deaths. So like him dying during vacation happens so often that there is now an emote for when he says it and the emote is just him in the family guy death pose)

It's consenually assumed that Ash is fibbing the 'death' count and legendary count, No one is THAT unlucky.

Ash ends up being known as the Exaggerator among the streaming community. Cancel culture left and right to take him off the platform because he's lying. But everytime you send a hate mob, Ash shuts that shit down fast.

"Just cause you guys don't believe in me, doesn't mean im lying." He scowls one day in the middle of a CraftMines game (tm). "Fuck off and eat shit, I just wanna play games, train and tell you all stories."

The scowl on his face ends up being a reaction meme for awhile, usually followed by *The only time i cuss.*

I just imagine in Kalos, Right after the Yveltal situation, he streams directly after it. It's only his face, but you can hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital works.

"Alright, Who bet on this one being worse, Pay up cause wowzers."

And the chat floods with

Wowzers?

Did he say wowzers?

Dude what drugs are you on?

Yo, are you in a hospital??

Motherfucker said "wowzers" okay old man.

"I'm on Morphine, and i took a pretty bad hit to the head, excuse me for being lingolistic of the last century." And the camera tilts before he rights it, just as pikachu comes onto the screen, looking battered and bruised and a helluva lot more gray than before that's only barely receding. "Why did i do this again? Oh- i was gonna say im gonna take a break from streaming for a bit."

"Why did you stream to say that then?" A voice offscreen asks. "Why not like, send a Pidge?"

"It's actually called Z now." Ash quips back and his eyes are closed. You can see the bruises underneath his eyes. "probably should of- i dunno Clem my head hurts."

"Okay, say bye then."

"Bye then."

The stream doesnt end right away, Ash sort of doses off with Pikachu nestling on his neck. His fur is noticeablly less gray, but no one will figure that out until they compare

At First, there are skeptics all around. Loads of people calling it a publicity stunt cause - who the fuck streams in a hospital for crisis sake!!! Theres like a hate mob for awhile, and his numbers drop wildly.

Until a video comes out, it's clearly a bystander that shows the blurry images of a Pokemon. You can see the camera desperately trying to focus but it can't. You can also see it attacking groups of people, so the camera focuses on them.

You can hear Ash screaming for his pokemon, for Pikachu, before the video cuts out.

The numbers sky rocket, abd everyone desperately awaits for the next stream. Except the Kalos League hapens, and they're all left in the dark until Ash goes back home to Kanto. His arm is in a cast, his face is bruised along the left side of his jaw, and his nose has a plaster over it.

"So." He starts the stream, smiling brightly. "Trainers and Entertainers, guess whose not dead!"

And the stream skyrockets to one of the most viewed for the time.

I went wild but like- thinking on it, Streamer AU has got me. XD

[starstuffandalotofcoffee]

I threw down pretty heavily with SURJ this year, and also wasn't particularly happy with their post-election analysis. I'm not necessarily looking to move orgs, but I'm curious what the takes on the WFP/Move On call were. I'm in the contacting them to see if I can get the recording, but I'd also love to get your deeper opinion.

the recording of the mass call is here (I couldn't recall the coalition name while drafting that post and was in a rush to get to something and probably should have waited). I will admit I was not in like, a great headspace to remember details, and I had to drop off early, but I have signed up for my local meeting which is tomorrow (check your area! there's links on the same page). It focused a lot more on community building and tangible plans put in place and a lot less about Our Fellow White Women coming from educated lefty white women in Brooklyn who only have access to other educated lefty white women in Brooklyn. I also think that it did contain some useful post-mortems. I do not think it's correct to say Democrats made all of the right choices over the past 4 years but the issue is less "we have abandoned the working class" and much more "messaging is fucked, a lot of programs move too slowly, and we should have prosecuted Trump much more quickly." Like, more generally, I think that capitalism is a massive problem and is a major factor why we're at where we're at. but SURJ felt like, well, Very Online Leftists who are like "under late stage capitalism we are all fucked" and when you ask "ok what should we do about it" they're like "stop capitalism" and when you're like "ok what are the actionable steps" they're like "CAPITALISM BAD". Or to put it another way, to reference the Daniel Hunter 10 steps article, it felt all very public angsting, no action. And perhaps it was just that that call was Wednesday Night and Worth Fighting For was Thursday and they'd had another day to pause and grieve and breathe but the former just made me feel like they were wallowing and the latter was the first thing that made me feel better that wasn't pure distraction.

also: Judith LeBlanc was a smart choice. I feel better today for having gone to my synagogue and talked to old left-leaning Jewish people. I think you need to spend time with people who can say "the steps backward are unacceptable, and also, I have gone forward once and I will keep doing it and I know the work might not be done in my or your lifetime and we still do it." I also think it's a key point in coalition building to have the former head of the Communist Party given an equal platform as Jamie Raskin and Pramila Jayapal and Leah Greenberg. (I also found Ash-Lee Henderson to be a fantastic host/moderator here; again, I think SURJ's mission isn't inherently bad in theory but it really does turn into a lot of Liberal Urbanite White Woman (and sometimes men) self-flagellation. Like...you should not make women of color do the work, but you should fucking listen to them instead of talking forever about how bad and sorry you are about other white women.)

[melancholic-pigeon]

During my class, we talked about the difference between like, Catholic guilt versus the kind of atonement that's associated with Yom Kippur. The phrasing that was used was "course correction", which my moral OCD really found helpful. It's not "you're a terrible person who must suffer in repentance", it's "Who do I want to be? Where did I stray in being that person over the last year? How can I correct my course so that I am closer to the person I want to be next year?"

I talked to my therapist about certain things that recently happened that I won't devote any more air time to specifics on unless I'm forced by someone else's actions. And I've been thinking about it and turning it over in my head, because it still has me pretty shaken!

But basically, I got a very clear, very vivid image of the kind of person who says "Kindness is so important, unless I'm the one being unkind, then it's okay". I found a pattern of unkindness and justifications afterwards for said unkindness. I realized the path I've been going down this past year leads to a destination I find revulsive.

I don't want to be mean. I don't want to let my anger eat through my load bearing walls. I don't want to be the kind of person who snaps in anger, who defends others snapping in anger, who spends her time justifying her outbursts of poor emotional regulation and who blames everyone but myself for my own big feelings.

I've been down this path before, and it's something I'm ashamed of. I don't like being full of rage, but it's way too easy for me to get swept up in someone else's excuses for why their own uncontrolled rage isn't destructive and totally won't ruin all their relationships or give them a reputation for being a combative hair-trigger who will scream at people over innocuous things or miscommunications and then scream at them more for tone policing when told screaming at people for misunderstandings is rude.

I don't want to be fueled by anger. I don't want to be bitter and mean and judgmental and suspicious. I don't want to turn into the kind of person who spends their day arguing on tumblr dot com about how actually I am special enough to be trusted with the death note because I am a Good Person who would only use it on evil people. I don't want to be the kind of person who lashes out every time I misunderstand someone and then punishes them for clearing up the misinterpretation because it made me look bad.

I don't want to be a bully. I don't want to enable bullies. I don't want to defend bullying. And I want to get better at actually listening to the voice in my head (maybe the voice of HaShem) telling me "Hey, you know better than this, you know this is wrong, why are you letting a charismatic bully sway your actions and pull you along to defend them?"

So, yeah. This year I'm working on improving my de-escalation skills and getting a much tighter rein on my anger. Rage is like fire: it's a great source of energy, but it will also destroy you completely and turn everything you love into ash if you don't keep. it. controlled.

I want to reaffirm that it's not okay to blow up at people because you're having a bad day. That if I've done this to you, I'm really, deeply fucking sorry, and I use that in the New England Intensifier way. I fucked up a number of times over this past year, I'm not okay with it, I don't WANT to be okay with it, and I'm just...sick of being angry. I'm sick of watching people hurt each other. I'm sick of being complicit. I'm sick of holding the idea that "being mean is not praxis" is a controversial viewpoint that should be kept away from activism rather than a preschool level ground rule for how not to actively make your community worse and more hostile.

I'm tired of all of it. I don't want to be in this place anymore. It's dangerous to all of us when we lean into the idea that our anger is paramount and angry responses are always justified.

I just....if your behavior towards other activists on your side is to treat them like you're the mustachioed villainous husband in a lifetime movie about an abused soccer mom and then criticize others for telling you that's shitty, that's a bad thing! But I've historically been way too easy to shame into accepting this premise, and it doesn't matter why I ended up there. What matters is that I did, in fact, enable this behavior from people, excuse this behavior from people, and defend proponents of this behavior. And I hate that I did it, but I did.

Frankly, it makes me ill to think about. But it makes me more ill to think about not even trying to do better.

This year, I'm trying to do better.

Fast easy if you're fasting, everyone ✡️

[astridellejo]

A list of a few neurodivergent behaviours I've been known to do.

A Simple Wardrobe Me: All of my clothes are black and I have multiples of everything because trying to coordinate an outfit with colors and textures and patterns is just exhausting and not something I want to deal with when I get up in the morning. Or ever.

Infodumping Me: Can I talk to you about the different varieties of image file formats and data compression, the companies that made them and why, and their particular uses over the history of the internet? No? Oh. Okay.

Darmok Moment Neurotypical (discussing a character in a recent show): His attraction to her got complicated once he discovered she was a villain. Me (referencing a show you've never heard of): Ash. Her symbol tattooed over Stone's heart. Neurotypical: What the fuck?

Sensory Input Good Except When Bad Me: Sound is awesome! I fucking love sounds! [hears ASMR] Me: MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!!!!!

Can't Directly Answer A Question Neurotypical: Did you do the thing? Me: Okay, so … Neurotypical: Stop. Just stop.

Reassure Me Me (feeling insecure): I'm not being a bother am I? I know sometimes I can be a lot. Friend: You're fine. Me (not feeling very reassured by that noncommittal "You're fine."): Are you sure? Because I've been known to drive a lot of people away with my constant… [etc]

Speaking Is Overrated Me: Sign language is awesome because I can communicate and stim at the same time! Stim-com! Neurotypical: Please use your words! Me: Fuck you! Learn sign language.

Music Lover Me: I've listened to this album 62 times in the last five days, and I'm about to listen to it a 63rd time.

/s Neurotypical: [uses sarcasm] Me: [takes it at face value]

Expressing Emotions Friend: Someone very dear to me recently passed away. What I'm supposed to say: I'm so sorry. What I'd rather do: [WAIL AND SOB AND GNASH TEETH AND POUND FISTS TO THE GROUND AND SKY AND YELL INCOHERENTLY BECAUSE SOMETHING VERY TRAGIC HAS HAPPENED TO A FRIEND AND THIS IS WHAT FEELS EMOTIONALLY APPROPRIATE EVEN IF IT'S NOT SOCIALLY APPROPRIATE] What I actually do: [go completely stone-faced and not say anything]

Time Management Me: I can't get started on this project because I need to be somewhere around five minutes or twelve hours from now and I don't want to be late.

Working On Projects Me: I don't wanna draw the work art. I wanna draw the play art. Neurotypical: But it's all drawing, right? Me: [wiggle defiantly]

Realizing This List Is Getting Long Me: I should probably stop. Me: Oh wait, I thought of something else to add!

Relating To People Neurotypical: And then she just walked away like nothing had happened. Me: Oh yeah. It's like that time when I... Neurotypical: This isn't about you. Me: But I'm trying to relate to you by describing a similar experience I had. Neurotypical: Well stop.

[kojoty]

The thing about identity is that it changes with the tides of what is happening to you, just intrinsically, so it is very difficult to pattern map exactly what is exacerbating what facet. But, astutely, it has been made known to me that summer Michael is far more stable in identity than winter Michael. Which makes sense. Because when I over book myself to the brim with friends and community and outdoors and tasks in the caliber that one can in the heat and sun-- going honeybee mode-- a lot of the dips and crests even out through sheer pleasant and earned exhaustion by the end of the night. Whereas in the winter.... Not as much to do and far more time spent stuck inside my own brain and head landscape. But then also it is true that I pretty much...... Hm

To say I'm different than last year is no joke, and to say that the me from before June 8th feels like a Ghost is also no joke. But it's not as though I'm completely fresh and new--phoenix rising metaphor and all, even if I cauterize and burned myself down to the ash, the ash still had.... Me...? Inside it. It's like taking a sickly tree and cutting it down to the trunk and letting it grow back stronger. It's different! But the same in many ways. And I have spent month-- 12of them-- crawling out of the controlled burn and trying to map myself. So the 'patterns' I'm noting are, to an extent, not just new, but patterns that I am cultivating and honing and shaping. So much of this is new again. Even without a dissasociative condition-- of which I generally exist in shades and facets of three different main Genres , I've found-- so much of post addiction is looking back at your self in addiction and not recognizing the person in the mirror. Many memoirs and accounts of addiction talk aboht this. They feel alien to you even as they feel the same as you. It feels like a version of you that lies dormant. A bundle of every bad habit and unhealthy coping mechanism rolled into one person that becomes VERY good at lying. But when you cauterize that, you don't just *develop* health over night. You have to work on it.

And that's what I've been doing and will continue doing. Sobriety has helped me prioritize the greatest and most personal project I will ever have the honor of completing-- me. This is all over the place. I guess.... Pattern mapping and finding the patterns in yourself is cool. But I'm just now, a year in to Michael Whit Misha whatever able to see just the beginnings of what that looks like, with a healthy body, a healthier mind, a more keen outlook and insight.

Identity is funny and silly and if nothing else, the freedom to demand and assert that I can be whatever identities I choose to form with deliberation has been monumental in letting those cauterized ashes lay to rest, because at the core of it, addiction personalities are formed from a desire to not just appease those who aren't you, but to delete the aspects of yourself that ARE authentic. And in authenticity I have lost some of those that aren't me. But I've gained a hell of a lot meaningful relationships the more I've been unapologetic and taken accountability for the spaces I should and shouldn't inhabit. And my community and my relationships are the reason for doing it and I am so full to the brim with love every day of my life now. Even on the hard days, at least, I can say without lying that I am trying my fucking best. And I can mean it. Anyways.

Project year 1 complete 👍