#but like for my personal life i don’t need that skill to make myself happy and i only now know that

[virgoes]

this week on the virgoes show: realized i’ve been “people pleasing” my whole life because i am so good at reading what other people want and providing them just that, and as a result have no idea what my identity is.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 21

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: hard conversations, angst (minimal comfort), boundary breaking wc: 3.2k

Chapter Selection

A thin beam of soft yellow light spread across the bed, and I turned to face the door. Damian stood, gripping the doorknob. I sat up, gesturing for him to come in. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, but didn’t step away from the wall.

“... I need you to know that I would never have hurt you.” He whispered wetly.

“... What?” I frowned, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“... Father told you about us. … You know I was trained to be a living weapon. A remorseless killing machine. … I broke into your apartment, and you barely batted an eye. You let me come back, over and over, and I … It is important to me that you know, I would never have hurt you. I will never hurt you. I … I’m good now. … I promise, I’m good.”

“Oh, Damian…. Come here sweetheart.” I patted the bed next to me, and he slowly approached, sitting next to me. I held an arm out, letting him decide if he wanted to accept a hug or not. He considered me for a moment before leaning in and I wrapped my arms around him, stroking his back gently. “Of course you are good! You are so, so good, Damian. I promise you, I am not afraid of you, or mad that you didn’t tell me, or anything like that.”

He slowly wrapped an arm around my back. “... You’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad at you, kiddo.”

“... You were screaming at Father.”

“Well, I am mad at Bruce.”

“Why?”

“Your safety is his responsibility, and he’s letting you spend your time fighting criminals … Jason died doing this, and Bruce did nothing about it. He let another kid come in and start the process all over again. And now you …”

Damian frowned; “Father couldn’t stop us if he tried. We choose to do these things, he doesn’t make us. If I said I didn’t want to anymore, he would be thrilled.”

“ … Then stop. Please, stop. Please, Damian, be safe, and happy, and free, let someone else clean up the messes. They’re not your messes…” Tears filled my eyes again and I shut my eyes, silently begging him to agree. “You’re not obligated to do this. You’re just a kid… You deserve to be a kid. I don’t care what anyone else tried to make you be, you are good, and you are kind, and you are a person. You aren’t responsible for the world’s problems, Damian. Please…”

“... I can’t. I’m sorry. … I have the skills necessary to help people survive the worst days of their lives. There are people who are living normal, happy lives because I made sure they survived their worst day. … I’m proud of that. I’m going to keep doing it. I’m not alone, I always have a team. We make a difference, and I … my dreams aren't filled with the screams of my victims anymore. … I don’t ever want to hear those screams again. … I’m going to keep fighting…. They taught me to be a monster. I’m going to use it to be a hero.”

I took a deep, shaky breath, kissing his forehead. “I … I don’t know what to say to that … I … nothing in my life could have prepared me for this … Just … please, please always come home to us. Ok? … I … I won’t be able to take it …”

“I will. I’ll always come home. I know how to take care of myself, you know.”

I nodded slowly. “... I know you do. ... But worrying is part of the job description for being an adult in a kid’s life. So I’m going to worry, and sometimes you’re going to entertain my worries without fighting me on it. Ok?”

He smiled a little and nodded, letting me hold him like that for a little while before he finally pulled back. “... Can I stay?”

I nodded, scooting back to make room on the bed. “I’d like that.”

The bed was big enough that we didn’t have to cuddle close like at my apartment, but Damian did set his hand near mine. I could feel his warmth on the side of my hand, like a guiding light in the darkness. We laid in silence for a long while, just existing in the moment.

“You’re going to keep dating Todd?”

“...If he’ll let me.”

“Why wouldn’t he let you?”

“... Among other things, I … I used what happened to him in the fight, and how that was making him act, to manipulate him into letting me take the blood sample Tim and Babs needed. … It was for his own good, but I still knowingly crossed his boundaries. And I … don’t know if he’ll forgive me. … I don't deserve to be forgiven.”

“... He might not remember.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll tell him.”

“Why?”

“Because keeping a secret like that from him would be cruel. He deserves to know what kind of person he’s dating, … if he’s going to continue dating me at all…”

He regarded me for a moment, frowning deeply. “... He’ll forgive you.”

“You think so?” Damian nodded. “... I really hope you’re right. …”

“He will. And that will make you my sister.”

I blinked a bit; “... You want me to be your sister?”

He nodded. “It’s the appropriate title, given our situation.”

“Situation?”

“If you marry him you’ll be my sister-in-law. It may not be an official title yet, but you have more than earned it. So, … unless you object, … Todd will stop making his ‘mommy’ jokes, and I will call you sister.”

I shook my head quickly, sniffling; “No, I don’t object at all!”

He nodded, gently squeezing my hand on the sheets. “.... Can Jon still sleepover next weekend?”

I chuckled, brushing my tears away; “Of course, sweetheart. Nothing about our plans has changed.”

He smiled a little and nodded. “Thank you, Sister.”

“You’re welcome, baby brother.”

Dick had been right about things looking different in the morning. But they certainly didn’t look better. In the light of day I saw Damian, curled up next to me. He was small for a fourteen year old. He could pass for ten effortlessly, younger if he played it right. He was so small, looking so fragile, and there on his arm, peeking out from under his pj top, was a crisp white bandage. That hadn’t been there when he left my apartment the night before. Which meant he had been injured fighting Mr. Freeze. 

He was injured. … And Jason was in the Batcave, fighting the effects of Mr. Freeze’s experiment. … It was morning, and my boys were going to have to deal with the consequences of last night for the next several weeks, if not longer. Was Steph injured? Was Dick? The only one I hadn’t seen on the news was the Signal - Duke. He was the only one who was definitely ok, from last night. But was he nursing any injuries from his patrols? It was entirely possible. Surely they all had some scars, but Jason was the only one of them with such obvious ones … It seemed improbable that the others had avoided being hit so much more often than Jay. … Which probably meant that most of his scars would look more like theirs if … what? … What was the missing variable? …

I slowly slid out of bed, making sure Damian was tucked in comfortably, and slipped out of the room, going back to Bruce’s office. Before I got there, I ran into Alfred in the hall. He smiled gently, calling me Miss; “is there anything I can do for you?”

“I need to speak to Bruce, Alfred. Do you know if he’s up yet?”

He nodded. “I believe he’s checking on Master Jason. Would you like me to show you the way?”

I thought for a moment. When Bruce had led me up to the mansion the night before, Babs and Tim had been stripping Jason for treatment. And he still hadn’t shown me his chest yet. I had crossed so many of his boundaries last night, I was not about to cross another. “... No, Jason wouldn’t want me down there until he’s awake. Can I just wait for him in his office?”

Alfred nodded, gesturing for me to go inside, and turned on his heel to let Bruce know I was waiting. I sat in the same chair from the night before, watching the birds outside the window. When Bruce finally arrived, he took a seat on the other side of his desk, frowning slightly.

“... Why are Jason’s scars so prominent?”

Bruce frowned more; “... what do you mean?”

“Obviously all of you get hit, but only Jason has so many, and his are incredibly visible. Why does everyone else have normal, healed scars, and he has those?” I watched Bruce’s face.

“... Jason doesn’t seek medical treatment. Not here, not at the hospital. If he can handle it himself, he does, no matter how poorly. He only gets professional care when he’s brought in unconscious.”

“Why?”

“... I don’t know. He wasn’t so opposed to medical attention before … the Pit.”

I sighed softly, nodding once. “... Ok. … You said that when I had a trajectory, you had funding available for my education?”

Bruce tilted his head, curious. “Yes?”

I nodded. “If Jason can forgive me, … if he can ever trust me again, I want to be able to help him. And the thing it looks like he needs most is someone he trusts with medical equipment. So, if he somehow finds it in him to trust me, after everything I did, you will fund my medical training.”

Bruce nodded. “You want to be a doctor?”

“No. I want to take care of Jason. And Damian. … Any of them really.” I frowned. “Dick, Steph, Tim, Duke. They can all come to me, if they wish.”

“... A sort of … vigilante clinic?”

“... Call it what you want. … But, let me be perfectly clear on one point. I want you to fund this. I do not want you coming to me for treatment. Not ever. … I will never be able to forgive you for what those children have been through, Bruce. I will never forgive you for Jason’s pain, or for how brave Damian has had to be to survive the life you have subjected him to.”

Bruce nodded slowly. “... I do not seek your forgiveness, young lady. You have no idea the choices I have had to make. … But I have seen first hand that you are good for Jason, and Damian seems happier with you around as well. And their happiness matters to me more than you could know. … So, yes. I will fund your medical education, and when you are ready I will keep you stocked with the supplies you will need for them. You'll have a salary, so you can be available when you are needed. … You will need better security as well, it will be taken care of.”

I nodded slowly. “Two more things. First, I will need more self defense training if I’m dating a vigilante.”

He nodded. “You would be welcome to join our household’s Thursday training sessions. … What else?”

“... I want to be added to the emergency contact list at Damian’s school. … Frankly, Bruce, the ways you have failed him terrify me. I can’t fix that any more than you can, but I can guarantee that at every school event parents are meant to go to, Damian will have at least one adult in attendance. I will go to his parent/teacher conferences, whether you’re there or not. I will go to after school activities, PTA meetings, I’ll chaperone field trips and dances, whatever it takes to make sure he knows that this part of his life matters… And I don’t want you to do anything to discourage him from spending time with me either. If he wants to spend the night at my place on a school night, I will make him dinner, help him with homework, tuck him in, make breakfast, and get him to school on time in the morning. And you will say nothing about it.”

Bruce frowned. “Damian is perfectly fine here on school nights.”

“Damian thought your public persona was more important to you than his emotional wellbeing. That is what you have taught him; that you don’t value him as your child, just as a soldier. He needs to be allowed to be a child. If he wants to spend time with me, I will be there. If it’s on a school night, I will make sure he’s ready and at school on time. He feels safe with me, so I will be available to him any time, day or night. Because he may be your son, but I am his adult. If you have any love for him, you will not make it harder for him to have a childhood than you already have. You will put your ego aside, and let him have this. Because you know, in the end, I will be better at this than you are.

You are consumed by the Bat. That’s the way it is, and there’s no changing it. If you were to step back even for a moment, every psychotic clown, mad scientist, and brightly colored sociopath out there would drag everyone into the darkness. That’s the world we live in, the world you have established for yourself. There is no space left in you for Damian's ordinary childhood needs. But I can and will dedicate every moment to my boys' emotional and physical wellbeing. That can be what my life is, and I will be happy to do it. So, you can be consumed with the Bat. And I will be consumed with them.”

Bruce stared me down, frowning deeply. “... You are an incredibly intense person … I hope you know what you're doing.”

“Does that mean…?”

“I’ll have you listed as the primary point of contact for Damian’s school.”

“Thank you.”

Jason woke to the smell of a sterile room, and the sound of his vital signs being monitored. He ripped the monitors off, climbing off the table. The memories from the night before flooded his mind, leaving him a bit nauseous, but he continued staggering away. He found a pile of his clothes, pulling them on quickly, and stumbled out of the room.

The cave was empty. But she said she wasn't leaving … So where was she? Was it a lie? Had she gone home? Her helmet was still on Dick's handlebars. He found his phone and checked his texts.

💖☕: Hey baby, lockdown's pretty scary, huh? Hope you're safe! ❤️

5:40pm

💖☕: Jace? You safe?

6:30pm

💖☕: … Jason? If you're getting these, I'm getting really freaked out. Please tell me you're ok.

8:45pm

Her most recent messages were all from before she found out he was Red Hood. Maybe it was too much for her … He had been so entirely out of control, maybe she didn't want to be with him anymore. God, had he really tried to get her to have sex with him? Fuck, that was humiliating. Maybe she didn't like him pressuring her like that … Maybe she hated him for lying for so long. He should have told her before the gala.

He gasped for breath, shaking. She was gone, wasn't she? She hated him now, and she was gone. He was alone … alone … so alone …

He didn't feel his knees hit the cold stone floor, or hear his screams echoing around the cave. He didn't even register the tears running down his cheeks. He only felt his heart shattering.

Small feet slowly came into view, and Damian crouched in front of him, frowning. “... I heard you from the kitchen. What's wrong?”

Jason's hands fisted in his hair as he took a gasping breath; “... Sh- she's gone … She's gone …”

Damian frowned more. “She's in the sitting room, Todd. She didn't want to check on you herself; something about you not wanting her to see your chest.”

Jason's head snapped up to look at Damian's face; “... She … she's here? She didn’t leave?”

Damian nodded, standing, and offered the large man a hand. “Breath, wipe your face, and let's go.”

Jason frowned, taking a deep breath. “... Why are you … being like this?”

“Sister thinks she broke your trust. I'd put her at five, maybe ten minutes from a full panic attack. Now fix your face, get up there, and tell her you love her. … You do still love her, don't you?”

Alfred gently pressed a cup of tea into my hands. Tim and Dick stared at me from across the sitting room, sipping from their own cups. I simply stared into mine, going numb again. It had been hours, but Jason was still unconscious.

“... You seem … upset. … In a way I wasn't anticipating.” Tim frowned.

“I am upset, Tim.” I sighed.

“... Do you want to talk about it?”

“... No.”

Babs reached for my hand. “You did well, yesterday…”

I snatched my hand away, growling; “No! No I did not! How can you even say that?”

“You probably saved Jason's life.” Dick frowned.

“I used the position of power I had over him to force him to do things he didn’t want to do! Things he wasn’t ready for. He begged in that alley, begged, no needles! And I made him give me the blood sample you wanted. … He was all over me, it was uncomfortable and weird, and I knew it was the pheromones, but I didn’t even try to stop him! It was easier to just keep him calm! … He hadn’t told me he’s Red Hood, I told him to take his helmet off, and he didn’t even hesitate. Because he couldn’t! … I took his choices from him. And I did it because it was easier. … How can he ever look at me the same ever again? How can he trust me? How can I ask him to trust me?! I’m not the safe person I promised to be! He shouldn't trust me!” I buried my face in my knees, sobbing. “I promised him, every single day since we met, we never had to do anything he wasn't ready for! I promised! And the second I had the ability to make him go against his own wishes, I broke my promise! H- how can I claim to love him when I did that?! How do I even start to apologize??”

I shook violently, sobbing into my knees, until a large, familiar pair of arms wrapped around my shoulders. Jason's chin rested on my shoulder as he pulled me close. “We talk it out. Just like everything else, we'll figure it out together. Right, princess?”

I gasped sharply, turning toward him. “J- Jason? … Y- … you're …”

He gently cupped my cheek, smiling gently. “I'm ok, doll. Come on, let's talk.”

Next->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm

[tanzakukun]

Yoojin’s built is scrawny. He doesn’t have a degree. He’s an F-class and a support at that. He wants to be the protagonist, because then, he would be strong. And he would be so strong he can protect everyone and no one else has to suffer but him. Most importantly, as the protagonist, he would always be needed by others.

But he wasn’t made to be in that spotlight. He sees Sung Hyunje, handsome, powerful, experienced, mature and skilled in everything he puts his mind into. Everyone is naturally drawn to him. Everyone finds Sung Hyunje useful. Sung Hyunje will always be needed by others, and he will always appear impeccable while at it.

But the picture-perfect protagonist is tired of the genre he was nurtured by his transcendent step mom god to fit into. He doesn’t want to be a puppet of someone else’s will, of a world and society accepting him only for the roles they have for me. The protagonist is a free spirit who has been killed by being turned into someone who can move others but cannot be moved by the very people who he’s been destined to protect.

The closest to Sung Hyunje’s existence is Han Yoohyun, an incarnate of fire forced to live in the shell of human. Yoohyun is driven by his instinct, no different than Hyunje being controlled by his destiny. In another story, they would have been each other’s nemesis. The protagonist who watches over others because he was chosen by a higher power to do so, and the villain whose nature is to destroy and burn all creations down until his life sizzles out. But the villain doesn’t. He fights his nature. He willingly puts himself through the suffering of rejecting his instincts to stay close to a scrawny F-Class without any notable achievements.

Yoojin loves the attention Hyunje gives him and is taken aback when the ahjussi protagonist isn’t the benevolent protector he was shaped to be. When Hyunje, who was made exactly as the protagonist Yoojin imagined, rebels by craving to be an individual of his own choices. He’s whimsical. He gets bored easily. He peels the crusts off his bread. He’s never had anyone sing him “Happy Birthday.”

Yoojin makes fun of him, and Hyunje goes, “lol fair”. Yoojin sees holes in the protagonist, and he’s thrilled by how he can put down someone whose very role he wants to be. He’s envious of Hyunje. He wished he was Sung Hyunje. Resentment doesn’t grow. Instead, there’s only Yoojin’s self-hatred being fueled by seeing on Hyunje, who has everything, how Yoojin is sorely lacking.

He doesn’t put himself against Hyunje, only against himself. Yoojin is his own worst enemy. When he relishes in criticizing Hyunje, it’s soothing his own ego being constantly bruised by his ideals.

“You’re exactly who I wish I was. But I see you’re not perfect either, which also makes me feel good because it means that maybe, I don’t have to be so hard on myself. If Sung Hyunje, the protagonist, isn’t all that in reality, then my unreachable expectations of myself seems rather foolish now.”

Hyunje makes Yoojin feels more at peace with himself this way. And when Yoojin pities Hyunje for the small wonders of life he’s not known, it’s an act once more that soothes Yoojin’s own ego. The understanding and humanity Yoojin directs to Hyunje are - subconciously - also acts of kindness toward himself.

And we all know how Yoojin is exceptionally struggling with self-love.

Hyunje picks up on the bits and pieces of the person known as Han Yoojin. He is a complicated soul who deserves love and care. He is an ordinary person who is seeking a way to be happy, just like Hyunje. Hyunje, who had always put himself first, having lived lives chained to someone else’s desire, chooses Yoojin’s happiness over his own. This isn’t a form a sacrifice. It doesn’t go against Hyunje’s personality. Hyunje seeks to make decisions of his own, and Yoonjin is simply that choice he proudly decided.

For the plot, the protagonist has accomplished his heroic deed. This was the story Yoojin wanted for himself as a main character. Someone who would give himself up for someone else’s happiness. Hyunje made him realize this was not the story he wanted for himself, nor a story he would want for anyone. If lets Hyunje do exactly what all main characters do, then Yoojin’s demons that he had been coming in terms with would win.

I absolutely love jinjae for being two souls who have not been made for each other, but are encounters at the right time and moment that helped the other grow.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

how do you fall in love with yourself

unlearn the idea that confidence is conceit. i see this belief imposed on women especially, that if they’re very unapologetic about loving themselves it automatically means they’re narcissistic / think they’re better than everybody else. that’s not true at all. you can love yourself while also acknowledging you’re not inherently better than anyone else. you can love yourself while also being kind & supportive to others. it’s okay to be both of these things at once.

let go of the scarcity mindset. women (everyone really, but especially women) get pitted/compared against each other all the time. you see it w female celebrities in the media, but it’s very prevalent in real life as well. this is very much years of societal conditioning & both women & men partake in this behavior. ignore it. rest easy knowing that there can be multiple beautiful women, multiple smart women, multiple funny women in any environment at any given time. there is enough clout to go around; you don’t need to feel like if there’s another pretty/smart girl it means you no longer have the space to also be a pretty/smart girl. instead operate from an abundance mindset: always (alwaysss) be happy for other girls when they succeed, when they’re praised, when they’re loved, whatever. see them not as competition but as inspiration. envy is such a colossal waste of time bc nobody else’s accomplishments have any bearing on your own!!

get to know yourself more. i love the analogy of dating yourself bc it’s true. i went through a rough period of being around my ex 24/7 to the point i didn’t even know myself, and then i spent the post-breakup year hanging around everyone else constantly to numb my thoughts. now i’m spending more time alone than ever & i’m getting to know myself so much. learning about my taste in fashion, music, everything. and i’ve had so much more time to invest in hobbies & skills, which is very instrumental to building healthy self-esteem. ofc there’s a more balanced way to do this, but make sure you’re not running away from yourself!

what do you like outside of everybody’s opinion? don’t interpret this the wrong way—it’s completely fine to be inspired. every single person you know has copied someone else to an extent. but if you find yourself going too far, not trusting yourself to make the simplest decisions, just following trends blindly and nothing else, you’ve left the inspiration territory and started crossing into plagiarism. move from a place of self-direction and really think about what is naturally appealing to you. it doesn’t matter if it’s not popular or nobody else likes it. if you like it & if it makes you happy, that’s all you need.

practice self-love! i had to do this lol but it works wonders. i started intentionally telling myself that i trust my own taste, that i trust my own choices, that if i think something’s cool it’s good enough, talking to myself kindly etc etc. eventually all this stuff will become natural to you & you won’t find yourself having to expend so much energy into simply loving you for you. don’t give up even if it’s hard to believe at times.

don’t give a fuck. seriously. just don’t give a single flying fuck what someone else has to say. there will always be That One Person who tries to tear you down, belittles you, gaslights you etc etc and if you know in your heart you’re not doing anything wrong, just ignore and keep it pushing. you can’t be everyone’s favorite person (nor should you want to be). think of your favorite celebrity. anyone ever. they probably all got subjected to hate. now think of how they’re successful still & how it didn’t take anything away from them. there you go <3

if literally everyone on this planet starts hating you, loving yourself is still the antidote. to clarify, how others perceive us does hold weight. but if legit every single person i know started hating me, and i still loved myself, i’d probably still live a full life bc my perception is all that really matters in the end. i don’t need anyone else to be my #1 fan—i can do that myself just fine. it technically is actually your world & everyone else is just living in it. so enjoy that! stop giving a hard time to the one person who will always be w you through thick and thin (yourself). eat good food & watch good shows & read good books & just have fun. i love u

[moxanji-real]

💖Introduction 💖

To my non sharing Sanji doubles..

*non shares harder* >;)💞

No, but seriously block me. Please and thank you 😭

StrawPage is a wip!

Banner arts are made by grubcakes

Before you interact PLEASE remember OP is very uncomfortable with NSFW. No NSFW jokes on OP’s posts or NSFW dm’s. Please respect OP’s BOUNDARIES.

💖Hello I’m Moxie. You can also refer to me as Fork. (I use the name as my self insert cause I kin her) I’m an 18 year old bisexual lady thingy. I have a slight personality disorder so if you see me texting in a tone that is different or acting in a way that is different, it’s NORMAL. I just can’t really decide on my personality somedays XD.

💖This entire blog is a self ship blog. I kin my one piece self insert and will often “pretend” to be her and talk like I am her. I ship Moxie with Sanji from One Piece and consider myself a yumejoshi, selfshipper, oc x canoner and fictosexual. I’m in LOVE with Sanji and consider him my soulmate to put it simply. And yes, I am caught up on One Piece in case you’re asking.

💖My blog is 100% SFW! I don’t do NSFW! I’m too shy to post that stuff. Also I won’t be reblogging nsfw too! Minors of all ages you’re free to interact! Just don’t make any… sexual comments/jokes please and thank you. The same rule applies to adults too! That’s my only big rule! I prefer wholesome shit on my blog! 😤💞

💖Asks are open. I have a lot of lore of Sanji and my One Piece self insert. Keep in mind my One Piece self insert isn’t me irl but I do kin her. That's why I’m called Moxie.

💖 I’ll only follow back if you have a solid introduction posted. I need to see your f/o list first! I’d prefer to only have self shippers follow me but if you like my content hell idc what you are. I’m just grateful.🤣

💖Sanji is my only f/o and I’m madly in love with him. I’ve shipped with him since I was 8 with my self insert and as years passed I still did. (Obviously I had done a lot of work on my self insert over the years but shhhh) I loved him for more than half my life and I still love him too. I’ve loved him before One Piece became super popular in other countries so I consider myself a true One Piece fan and Sanji lover. Without Sanji I don’t think I’d still be alive, he saved my life, my little hero. :’D💞

💖 I’m autistic as absolute fuck and I LOVEEEEEEE giving people my love and support. I NEED to make others happy- y'all don’t realize! 😤💞

💖If you have a One Piece f/o or if you are just a casual self shipper or do oc x canon please interact with me! Seriously, it would make me so happy!!! I’d love to be your friend! And don’t worry about me not responding, I’ll fucking respond and I’ll respond amazingly too 😩💞. I’m an extrovert! I know… spooky… we don’t see these a lot online lmao.

💖My current hyper fixations are One Piece, The Golden Girls, the Sims 4, Bleach, LPS, Sanders Sides and the X files

💖 I’m an artist, (not a really good one) and I do art trades and draw my self ship. Yes you can ask for an art trade and no I’m not picky on skill.

💖DNI: If you’re a Proshipper who supports incest or pedofillia or beastility. NSFW BLOGS or NSFT ALTS (if you are a sfw account but post nsfw content sometimes that’s fine! I just need tags!) If you’re a Minor who self ships with Sanji or simps for Sanji and posts nsfw content about him etc (Minors themselves can interact but NOT minors who are weird about Sanji.)If you write Sanji x reader fanfiction. If you constantly reblog Sanji x oc/self insert content from other people or the ships Sanji x Zoro, Sanji x Pudding and Sanji x Ace.

💖Policy on Doubles: Doubles? Yeah you can interact. Might not support your relationship but you can interact! If you’re comfortable with it give me a Sanji tag to block from your account if he’s not your main f/o. I am NON SHARING with Sanji, however I am very respectful about my relationship with Sanji and other people who have them as their f/o I don’t have any beef with. I’m chill… but however… Oc x Canon with Sanji? I do NOT wanna see it and will block on the spot if I come in contact with Oc x canon art of Sanji if I don’t know you. But if you want to support me you can because I do appreciate the support! (And hell, I’ll be willing to support your other ships. Just not the Sanji one unless I feel comfortable maybe to make an exception. But the possibility is rare Xd)

💖 Sanji and Moxie’s self ship tag name is Moxanji and all Moxanji related content will be tagged (some other tags I use are “Moxie rambles I guess” and “Moxie simping for her own man” )

⚠️Also before you engage with me.. if I ever do even the slightest thing wrong. Please confront me about it. I prefer confrontation over random blocking. I’m 18! I’m still young! Let me know what I did wrong so I can change and be a better person. I can’t be a better person if you don’t tell me what’s up and leave me in the dark. Please and thank you!⚠️

Moxanji fanfics

Forever yours,stinky baby

The touch starved firecracker

[borderlinereminders]

I post a lot about self-soothing and working on needing reassurance. And while it’s important to do, it doesn’t mean that’s how it always has to be.

I try self soothing first. Sometimes with my best friend, I know my feelings at her aren’t her fault. It’s something small that’s triggered insecurity even though I know it’s not rational. And I try to deal with the feelings myself first. But sometimes I can’t. And it’s okay.

In these cases, I usually go to her. I’ll tell her “I know it’s not rational and it’s not your fault. But I’m having feelings about x, y and z”. If possible, I’ll tell her what I’m looking for (like reassurance).

She’s always very happy to offer me that reassurance. She knows that I’ve come so far and worked hard and if she can reassure me, she’s often happy to in order to make it easier for me.

I’m going to share my most recent example under the read more for a real life example of how I applied this.

But my overall point is that it is absolutely okay to ask for reassurance and sometimes you need to. It’s just important to do it in a healthy way.

A few weeks ago, she was overwhelmed and busy. I offered to watch her dog for her while she was working. I didn’t get a response back because she was thinking about it.

And then I found out someone else was watching her dog.

I felt a lot of confusing emotions. I felt angry. I also felt insecure, like she didn’t trust me. I was frustrated at her and the person now watching her dog. I felt jealous.

I used skills to try and cope with these feelings. I didn’t lash out at her. I tried using logic to suggest alternatives to myself. Perhaps it wasn’t personal that she picked someone else. Maybe it was for logistical reasons. It was probably just easier for her.

I tried to sleep on it, but the feelings were growing. No matter what coping skills I used. Sometimes, the coping skills don’t work to self soothe or talk myself through it.

I was feeling annoyed for small things and I knew that it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t done something wrong. But I decided to talk to her about it. I didn’t want the feelings growing and causing issues and they weren’t going to sort themselves out.

Here are copy and pastes from our actual conversation :

Me: My explanation for feeling hurt is that **** told me she was taking Storm and I felt hurt because I offered twice and you didn’t respond at all to it. It made me feel like I did something wrong to break your trust. I am really emotionally sensitive right now and I know I’m having an *extremely* heightened emotional reaction to it but I can’t seem to let go of the bad feelings. And I know it’s not your fault. But also it just feels bad and I feel like I need to tell you about these feelings because I can’t let them go on my own. I could really use some reassurance.

Her: That’s so valid.

If context helps you feel less BPD, I was actually trying to figure whether to leave Storm at home or bring her to you but I needed to know my new start time at work with the new schedule before I’d know if I could make the timing work to drop her off with you after the ferry.

Then *** was sad about the breakup with *** and I offered to lend her Storm as an emotional support animal. I know she really struggles with being alone when she is sad. And I decided I could do without my dog temporarily. I can see how it would’ve seemed like I preferred having **** watch Storm.

But your BPD is very valid, I probably would’ve felt the same way under the circumstances. I hope you have a great day and I hope you know I love you. Also that I think you’re great with dogs and would have 100% wanted you to watch Storm this week.

-

( The name of the person watching her dog are blacked out for privacy reasons.) While she didn’t need to share the context, she chose to do that so she could better offer reassurance. I also want to point out that she validated my feelings. My emotional reaction was heightened but she still validated me. She also then offered reassurance for my specific concern (that I wasn’t trusted). She was patient and understanding. I was valid to need reassurance but her reaction to it was super valid and why it felt so safe to seek reassurance from her.

[kamidukki]

[AKNK] Berrien’s Daily Life Memories [BOX vol. 1]

[Note]

Long time no translate, so my skill gets a bit rusty.

The beginning of a day

(Yawns) My eyelids are still heavy… On such mornings, let’s have a cup of simple, plain tea, shall we?

(Inhales) How relaxing… There is something special about drinking tea while watching the sun rise.

Well then, now that I’ve felt refreshed, I have to go get ready to greet the Master.

Today, a new day has begun, hasn’t it? ♪

I want you to get well

Lono-kun, how have you been feeling physically?

[Lono: Oh, Berrien-san… Sorry that I’ve caught a cold.]

It’s fine, please just lie down.

[Lono: S-sorry…]

Do you have an appetite, Lono-kun? The truth is I cut up some oranges for you.

[Lono: Thank you so much. I’ll eat them. …Huh, their shape is…]

Correct. They’re rabbits. Don’t they look cute? I thought it’d make you happy.

[Lono: Happy you said… Ha ha, I’m not a child you know]

(Chuckles) But aren’t you laughing, Lono-kun?

[Lono: Of course, I am. Did you peel them for me, Berrien-san?]

I did♪ Thanks to that I was able to see your smile.

Looks like my efforts paid off♪

For other’s sake

Hmm~ I wonder what I should do for my day off today…

I was thinking about helping others, but…

“Get a proper rest on your day off at the very least!” was they told me instead.

(Chuckles) It seems like I’ve caused everyone concern.

But when I see someone in a trouble, there’s no I way I can just walk away.

[Ammon: Argh~! Cleaning this up is gonna be rough…]

Oh? Just now, I heard Ammon-kun’s voice…

He sounded in need of help. I shall go see him and lend my aid.

(Chuckles) As I thought, working for other’s sake suits my personality better♪

Bedtime routine

(Yawns) Now, let’s get some sleep… I’ve prepared tomorrow’s attire. Put the doll charm here, add the cologne on it… Done.

(Inhales) This scent gives my mind a sense of security, after all.

Tonight too, may I sleep in peace without having a nightmare...

Well then… Good night.

Overcoming fear of bugs

(Sighs) Even I know how pathetic it is... If my fear of bugs remains as is, the Master may think of me as an unreliable butler one day.

I have to get over this fear by any means… And for that reason…

First, I’ll start by familiarising myself with the bug encyclopaedia...

Ugh…! Gh… (heavy breathing)

Uh… it’s more realistic-looking than I thought…

I will stop here for today. Any more than this will probably hinder my works.

Ugh… I pray the bug pictures I saw just now won’t appear in my dream tonight…

On weapon handling

Haa~ today’s training is tough too…

That being said, compared to everyone else, I’ve become more accustomed to handling a weapon.

The first time I held this spear in my hand... Rather than swinging it, I felt like I was the one being swung by it.

…Now, I can handle it well, as though it’s a part of my body.

This must be the result of my daily training.

With this spear, I shall be able to protect the Master when necessity arises.

(Chuckles) Let’s keep on training for a bit more today, shall we?

Beloved Teacup

Ah… How did it come to this… For my beloved teacup to end up broken…

It’s been my favourite for a long time, what a shame…

Now that I think about it, this teacup holds a lot of memories... From the day I finally bought it, having been so taken with it at first sight in the shop... It is also with this teacup that I've tried out several new blends...

We spent teatime together each day...

Today, the time to say farewell has finally come. What a shame…

Goodbye, my teacup of memories…

Thank you for everything…

…

I can’t bear to throw everything away after all. At the very least, I shall keep the pieces.

Peaceful time

Ha~ the weather is great today.

Since it’s time for break, I might as well stroll in the garden.

Fu fu. It looks like Ammon-kun is working hard to take care of the flowers like usual.

On the other side is… Haures-kun, who is giving Lono-kun and the others a training.

Oh? Over there is… Oh my. Lamli-kun seems to be chased off by Nac-kun again.

(Chuckles) It's just the usual, peaceful, scenes of our daily life.

However… Until the angels come, it is a brief moment of peace.

Considering our battles, I value these moments even more.

May this time of peace continue for as long as possible...

Berrien’s Sigil

D-do you want to see the sigil on my body…?

[I want to see it]

…Understood. It’s a little embarrassing, but if that’s what the Master wishes…

Then, I beg your pardon, for I have to take off my tops…

…

Err, well…

If the Master would like to touch it, I also do not mind…?

A smile for you

Berrien Cliane is… a very kind-hearted butler.

Whenever I feel tired, he’d serve me a tea, all while giving me the soft smile of his.

[Berrien: Master, you seem tired. Be it unease or restlessness, I know it’s all difficult in more than one way. Even so... whenever that happens, please think of it this way. ‘Do I remember my grievances from a year ago? Or even ten?’ That’s right… most worries will be forgotten as the time goes. That’s why, Master, please show me your smile. Whenever you do, it brings me a sense of joy.]

[Thank you, Berrien.]

…While saying so, Berrien smiles at me like he always does.

When I'm with Berrien... a smile just naturally comes to me.

Berrien is… a gentle butler, who’s always there for me.

[books]

Writing Workshop Week 1: Show & Tell

Hello, writers of tumblr! It’s @bettsfic again with this week’s generative workshop. 

Today we’re doing what might be my favorite class activity: Show & Tell. 

You might be thinking, do you teach kindergarten or something? No, I teach college. But my students are often weary, downtrodden 20 year olds who are more than happy to go back to basics. Tumblr—being a website of people who care deeply about things and share that passion with others—seems like a great place to host Show & Tell.

Speaking of basics, let’s first talk a bit about…

The Writing Identity

The goal of many writers is to become better at writing. While I think this is an admirable goal it’s also a complicated one, because good writing is entirely subjective. Everyone has their own definition of what good writing looks like based on their knowledge base, history, and personal tastes. And so I often encourage my students, before they begin their journey of becoming a better writer, to step back and ask themselves, “What does good writing look like to me?”

And that’s the thing: you can’t really become a better writer. You can become a more patient writer, with the ability to write and revise multiple drafts of a work. You can become a more ambitious writer, with the ability to write longer stories and deeper themes. You can become a more detailed writer, with the ability to render images and the small details of living that maybe other people don’t notice. Writing is a skill that requires practice, but it also requires joy. You have to enjoy the work more than you fear the potential for failure. And to enjoy the work, you need to honor yourself, your interests, and your ideals. In other words, to become a better writer, you have to become more you.

I remember when I first started writing, I frantically sought out writing advice. I clung to simple adages and rules: active verbs are stronger than passive verbs; remove words like “think” and “realize” and other indicators of your characters’ interior experiences; take out adjectives and adverbs. If you were to adhere to all this advice, your writing wouldn’t become stronger, it would become colder. You would write like Hemingway. There’s nothing wrong with Hemingway, but Hemingway already did Hemingway, and that means you’re free not to be Hemingway. 

Don’t we read to feel closer to people, to experience that which we couldn’t otherwise experience? The beautiful thing about prose is that it’s the only medium that conveys consciousness, because language is the way we contain our thoughts, and writing them down offers others the chance to understand them. E.M. Forster in his book Aspects of the Novel says that the only difference between a character and a person is that a character’s secret inner life can be known, but a person’s can only be understood in observed behavior. Novels are stories of consciousness; biographies are stories of deeds. 

In my early days as a writer, those inane adages of “good writing” began to weigh on me, and I found myself frequently opening a blank document and telling myself, “I’m just going to write something for fun, for me, and so I don’t have to follow any rules.” Every time, that lawless thing I wrote would become better than anything I’d written when I followed the rules. And in this case, “better” means I was proud of it; in writing as close to myself as I could, I was able to help my technical skill reach the level of my personal taste. 

Good writing advice doesn’t spout shallow adages of what should be, it tells you all the things that could be; it opens your mind to possibilities and techniques. “Should” restrains creativity; the entire point of writing is to be creative. To be creative means to make something that has never existed before. And so one of the first things I tell my students is: You already know everything you need to know about your own writing. You already have good and important stories in you. You just have to sit down and write them.

“Show, Don’t Tell”

One such adage that still really gets to me is “show, don’t tell,” which a lot of writers believe. Many people take it to mean that you should describe the exterior circumstances of your narrator in order to allow the reader to interpret meaning. Instead of describing how your narrator feels, these people would rather have you describe their facial expression. But if you’re so interested in rendering the exterior rather than the interior, you’re better off becoming a director. 

Others take it less literally: you show your story instead of tell your story, which, sure, is a valid personal belief for your own work but it’s ambiguous and impractical, and also denies the nature of people to tell stories. Fairy tales and fables are stories that are told. Telling stories came long before showing them.  

In some ways, “show, don’t tell,” can be useful. If you spend a thousand words of character A lovingly and carefully describing every detail of character B, you don’t then need to say something like, “She was pining for him,” because you’ve allowed your description to do that work for you. So no, you don’t need to say it, but maybe you want to. Maybe you want to make it inarguable that character A is pining for character B; you don’t want a reader to say, “I think she’s paying that much attention because she wants to kill him and she’s looking for his weak points.”

And so that’s what it comes down to—choice. Ultimately, writing is about making decisions, and those decisions are stronger when you understand all your options.

Behind the adage is a more difficult truth to swallow: prose is both infinite in its potential and also frustratingly limited, because you have no control over your audience. You can lovingly describe every snowflake that falls in a blizzard, and your reader will be taking their own meaning from it—for people who can mentally visualize things, it’s the images their mind conjures; for those who can’t, it’s a mass of facts. And there are also those who are sleepy and missing details, or who are skimming to get to the bits they’re most interested in, or who accidentally dropped their book in the bath and now the bottom half of every page is warped and unreadable.

Or you can say, “It snowed.”

No matter what your beliefs are on “show, don’t tell,” the truth is that it’s a false dichotomy. The very nature of prose is to navigate this divide. Some stories call for more showing, for example when your narrator is at a distance, when we don’t have much access to their thoughts or feelings. Other stories will ask you to tell, especially if we’re deep in your narrator’s head and they’re giving us everything. Showing lends itself to setting, imagery, and plot. Telling lends itself to character, voice, and style. One is not inherently better than the other, in the same way that a screwdriver isn’t better than a hammer—the tool you use depends on the task at hand.

Any time you encounter a trite rule in writing, it’s usually pointing to something much greater and more fun to think about. In this case, showing and telling are two integral tools in meaning-making. For this week’s activity, we’re going to use both show and tell to make meaning.

Prompt time!

In Donald Barthelme's essay “Not-Knowing,” he calls objects magical. “What is magical about the object is that it at once invites and resists interpretation. Its artistic worth is measurable by the degree to which it remains, after interpretation, vital.” 

So what does that mean? Although this essay is a hot mess (lovingly), part of its intended work is to be a mess. In fact Barthelme describes the mess of his desk and allows it to define him. It’s covered in coffee cups, cigarette ash, unpaid bills, and unwritten novels. In reality, those objects are just objects, but when rendered in prose, they give us an impression of this particular world and the character within it. The writer renders; the reader interprets. The things we own, that mean something to us, are also things that can define us. Who is the person who carries a leather wallet embossed with their initials, with the inside holding credit cards and a stack of neat bills? Who is the person who carries a canvas wallet with a faded Punisher logo on it, attached to a chain, and the only thing inside it is a Subway rewards card?

Objects are important. Especially in this world we live in where so many things have become virtual, tangibility will always be integral to us. We are a species that reaches out and touches. We like to hold things in our hands. We love things which cannot love us back. 

For this week’s prompt fill, I want you to find a magical object for Show & Tell. Ideally, it’s something with a long personal history that’s important to you. Maybe it’s the object you would save in the event of a fire, or maybe it’s something you lost long ago. 

First, I’d like you to show us the object by describing it. Then, tell us the story of it.

You can write about how you acquired it and the memories it conjures. Allow yourself to link and associate memories and feelings. Don’t box yourself in too much—just see where it takes you. 

But you can also put a spin on it. Here are some ways you can do that:

If you want to try fiction, you can write the same story about your favorite character’s beloved object, or you could completely make up an object and its history. 

If you want to try something experimental, you can write a story from the perspective of the object, and maybe its beloved thing is you. 

If you want to try poetry, write a poem of your object. This is a separate lesson, but T.S. Eliot’s concept of an objective correlative may be illuminating to consider. 

The purpose of this activity is to dig through your memories and/or observations, connect them, and use something external to conjure meaning from them. You begin with what your object is and it will eventually lead you to what it means.

Questions? Ask ‘em here before EOD Tuesday so @bettsfic can answer them on Wednesday. And remember to tag your work #tumblr writing workshop with betts if you want her to read your work and possibly feature it on Friday!

And, for those just joining us: @bettsfic is running a writing workshop on @books this month. Want to know more? Start here.

[strxnged]

TIGHNARI: # the roots of ambition.

CHAPTER I. In which you meet the Forest Ranger of legend, a former student of your Darshan, who causes you to interrogate your life choices.

Word count. 2.4k. Genre. Found family, gn!reader.

Table of Contents. / Next chapter.

By your age, Eleazar should have affected more than the tips of your fingers. The cureless, Withering-born disease crept from the farthest limbs towards the organs and mind at a gradual but unstoppable pace. Only with the frequent treatment from Nilotpala Lotuses and immersion in the rainforest could your body find the strength to delay the progression of ash scales and numbness across your body. Still, as you knelt at the foot of trees with your hand wrist deep in miniscule roots and a magnifying glass grasped carefully by the other hand, you wished vainly that you might be able to feel the bumps of the fractaling extensions with more sensitive appendages than your own.

You were focused on as much of the texture as you could gather with your palm and knuckle, leading you to ignore, at first, the rustle in the leaves around you of much more than a squirrel or bird. You were faintly aware and had been reminded by peers many times that with the way you became mesmerized by whatever microorganism you found yourself immersed in the “mind” of. However well-meaning the scares they would pull on you to snap you out of it, staying aware of your surroundings really wasn’t a lesson you had yet learned.

A clear voice, however, was enough to rouse you from your trance: “Pardon our interruption.”

You took in a breath—the first you had taken for awhile, you realized—and then stood, turning around.

Three Forest Rangers had gathered a few feet behind you. On the left, a shorter girl tilted her head at you, purple eyes shyly gazing out from beneath green bangs. She had one hand clinging to the sleeve of the middle figure and the other to the corner of her own shawl. To the right of the middle figure, another Forest Ranger leaned against a tree with his arms crossed, looking vaguely interested in you and your circumstances. He also looked like he’d had enough time standing there to make himself comfortable. In between the two was the presumed speaker. He wore a colourful adventuring outfit with a distinguished sash and puffy striped pants. Above lime-streaked dark hair, two fennec ears were erect, alert. Something about this person felt familiar.

“Apologies,” you said, “I didn’t notice you three at all.”

“You’re in a very dangerous area,” the middle one continued. “Not having noticed us is an augurous sign for your safety, so we’d be happy to escort you to somewhere safer if you are willing. Especially since you don’t appear to have a Vision.”

You made no movement to leave. “I have to stay here. It’s for my research.” 

He smiled gently. “My name is Tighnari. You may know me as a fellow Amurta scholar, however tainted my reputation and relationship with the Akademiya may be.”

You told him your name.

“It’s lovely to meet a scholar who loves to get dirt under their fingernails like myself,” he said. “But I’m sorry, it’s just too unsafe for you to hang around here. We’re here to start clearing the nearby Withering Zone.”

The relaxed Forest Ranger stood up straight and interjected, “Gener— Er, Forest Watcher Tighnari, I think it’s about to clear us out first.”

 Sure enough, several scorched animated fungi were emerging from the trees a few yards behind you. You quickly knelt at the roots you had been inspecting a minute before and took a rushed but measured sample of soil, sealing it in a jar of water. You set the jar in your bag, threw the bag’s strap over your shoulder, and ran.

A braver, more well-rounded researcher might be able to pull out a shortsword or a bow in this situation, as the Forest Rangers were doing, but you were not the type of person who could dabble in a lot of skills. Running came more naturally, and either way you would need to abandon the site. Climbing trees, too, was a handy skill, though both of these you were bound to lose in a few years.

That was why you had to hurry.

Dashing past the many trees and up a slight incline, you kept an eye out for a climbable tree. Just a few good, strong lower limbs, and you’d been out of monster’s reach in no time. There one was—you leapt—you reached—you pulled—and slumped your body against the trunk, legs on either side of a limb. 

Finally, you peered back the way you came to see if you’d been followed, or if your friendly hecklers had slain every enemy. You noted with a sigh of relief that all seemed serene for a second. That was, until a Dendro-variant fungi flapped its fleshy wings up the hill towards your hiding spot. You began plotting your next escape.

A flurry of green darts surrounded the fungi and enshrouded it in glowing mist. Discombobulated, it made a clean “bonk” sound as it hit a tree not far from you. The darts hit the monster then, striking it repeatedly until it stirred no more. You observed the forest watching for the next threat that would be destroyed by thin air, or perhaps for your hero.

“Let’s try this again,” Tighnari’s voice said—but this time from very, very close by. You whirled your head to see him smiling a little smugly from a limb above you. How had he— “Your research—does it really compel you to put yourself in such a precarious situation?”

Your mouth gaped at him.

“From how quickly you run and climb, I expect that is the case,” he added.

“The forest is dangerous,” you deflected. “It’s not hard to wind up in that sort of situation, with Withering Zones popping up everywhere.”

“I’ll grant you that,” he said. “Your methods could use some guidance, though.” At the raise of your eyebrows, he added, “I’m sure it isn’t your fault. The Amurta professors aren’t what they used to be. What you need is someone to guide you in the field. Someone to tell you to wear gloves when collecting fungal mycelium samples. The oil from your hands is enough to taint your samples beyond recognition. If you’d like, I can lend you some.”

The last thing you would want to do would be to wear gloves and fully barrier your fingers from any remaining sensation, so you ignored this, and eyed him up and down. “You’re really Tighnari, huh?”

“Well, I think so. Unless I’ve consumed a very, very psychoactive mushroom recently.”

You slowly got to your feet, balancing on the limb with a hand to steady you rested on the trunk. Tighnari, sitting casually on the next limb, was at about eye-level, so you could peer into his hazel-green gaze.

“Then, you were a former student of Sage Naphis. Is that so?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, “upon my graduation, he encouraged me to join the faculty. I’d had quite enough of the Akademiya by then, so I politely declined.”

“That seems about right. He thinks the Forest Rangers are in good hands.”

Tighnari looked incredulous. “That’s all?” 

“No,” you admitted. “Actually, he gets somewhat sulky when he brings you up. ‘An unfortunate loss,’ he says. He likes to tell students to beware the persuasion of the forest-dwellers.”

He laughed. “Will you heed his warning?”

Before you could reply, you heard a girl’s voice. “Master, we eliminated the last of them!”

“Thank you, Collei,” Tighnari dropped from the tree, landing eight or so feet below you with ease and addressing the green-haired archer from before. “Let’s set up camp, then, the sun’s threatening to disappear. To the river!”

“To the river!” The third Ranger echoed. As he and Collei proceeded, Tighnari hung back, peering up the tree at you.

“If you’re anything like me, Y/N,” he said, “field research has a way of making you forget the meaning of hunger. Let us take care of you for the night.”

You humphed. “No, you’ve taken quite enough care, thank you. I must heed the warning indeed, and I’m hardly hungry.”

Your stomach, in defiance, growled loudly.

Tighnari smirked, waiting patiently. You climbed out of the tree.

|

⸙

|

“You can’t force me to stay here with you guys until the night is through. Unless you want to help me filter my sample.” 

“We could if we had put something in your stew,” Tighnari joked. At your sour look, he apologized, “Sorry. You were asking for it.”

“I’m confident the General Watchleader would be more than eager to look at mushrooms with you all night,” the third Ranger, whose name you had learned to be Amir, said. “He’s a little strange in that way.”

“Come now,” Tighnari said. “I was getting to that. How many times do I have to ask you to please not call me that, especially in front of strangers?”

“Strangers!” you cut in. “Surely you three are not still wary of me.”

Amir raised an eyebrow at you. “You are certainly strange. Maybe in the way Tighnari can appreciate, though I’m far removed from the whole mushrooms scene.”

“Are you?” you queried.

“I much prefer the study of medicinal herbs.”

“Oh, that’s not so independent of fungal ecology.”

“Maybe not,” Amir conceded, “But fungi are just so complex. There’s no one way to define them, so where do you even start?”

“As I was saying,” Tighnari said. “There’s a great many things I still wish to understand about fungal mycelium, and it would be my utter pleasure to work with you in your research.”

“I—I didn’t ask for help with my research as a whole. Just the sample would be more than enough help.”

“Do you think you would like more help?”

You pondered this. “I… I am limited in my capabilities. I don’t make the best project partner. I like to… work at my own pace, which tends to fluctuate.” You bit back any words that might directly indicate the seriousness of your condition. The actuality of your terminal disease. People acted—differently—once they found out about the Eleazar. You liked the thought of these new, adventurous friends, especially while they didn’t know about your prognosis.

Tighnari sucked air through his teeth. “That damn Akademiya. Shame on them.”

“Sorry?” you said.

“I just—” he shook his head, disappointed “—can’t get past the way they treat students. Not half a thought for real, field safety, and a hell of a lot of energy put into murdering the autonomy of passionate learning. It’s rare that I meet a student these days who has any self-respect left at all. Do you sleep at night, Y/N?”

Your eyes widened. No, you didn’t, but you weren’t about to say so.

“My apologies,” he said. “You’re trying to dissuade me—but it isn’t your fault. What I mean to say is that you would benefit from stepping a little further away from those sage pricks—forgive my language—and accordingly stepping deeper into the roots of your studies.” 

“I do study roots.”

Tighnari scoffed. “Oh, my. Cyno would like this one.”

Collei, who had up until now watched the conversation with silent, interested eyes, let out a giggle. Tighnari beamed at her tenderly, and you sensed that she was a little more family than apprentice to him.

“Cyno?” you asked after a moment. “You mean, the General Mahamatra?”

“Cyno tells the most awful jokes,” Collei explained excitedly. “He especially likes puns. Ooh, they’re so terrible!”

Tighnari’s tone was dripping with sarcasm as he said, “Yes, and those closest to him earn the pleasure of his attempts to lighten the mood.” He smiled more sincerely. “He’s a dear friend to me, and a valiant protector of the law. He’s also the reason Collei came to be a part of our team.”

Collei’s expression returned neutral.

“She’s a complicated Eleazar case. We can only take care of her as much as she lets us,” Tighnari explained. “But she’s found a home here in the forest. Gandharva Ville wouldn’t be the same without her.”

You nodded, trying to keep your face detached. You felt the implication of the words—the unbearable, inevitable future of when Gandharva Ville would forever be transformed by their loss. 

You hadn’t met many other cases in your years. Those who you knew with the disease were either miserable or hiding their misery with saccharine charades. You felt all the empathy in the world for them—but you couldn’t stand their haunting company. A part of you expected that that was how others felt about you, but it was no matter when the majority of your company were emotionless and eternally mysterious microorganisms. 

“As you may or may not know, Eleazar symptoms can be better managed in the forest. Nilotpala Lotuses, a useful treatment for the skin conditions that develop, are also far more accessible away from the city.”

“I’ve heard something of the like,” you replied. ”I wonder why the disease behaves differently.”

“If there’s one thing I hope they’ve taught you,” Tighnari said, “it’s that context matters greatly for all types of ecology and health.”

You agreed.

“And for learning, as well.”

You supposed so.

“Don’t you think you might learn more—learn better—living safely immersed in the subject matter?”

Didn’t you think so, lying sleepless beneath the stars later that night next to the three of them? Didn’t you think so with the timer in the back of your mind counting down the remaining moments of your life? Didn’t you think so, hearing the ground move beneath your head—so much more alive than you could ever dream to be?

In the night, the loud silence of a million living things was sliced through by one human’s cries. Collei, suffering night terrors associated with clear physical pain, woke Tighnari and Amir from their quiet slumbers. You lay frozen, listening alertly, as Tighnari talked her back to sleep with descriptive details of flowers in the area, of birds soon to beckon dawn, of histories encoded in botany and zoology. Collei had calmed down and nodded off again, but the General Watchleader kept on until you could not hear him any longer. Your thoughts animated and blurred together, and you were lost in green dreams of life.

In the morning, you told Tighnari that you did, indeed, think so.

Table of Contents. / Next chapter.

[ragingbookdragon]

She drummed her fingers against the teacup, watching as her brother disappeared into his bedroom, the door shutting behind him. Her heart sank for her dearest brother, and she drew her gaze to the disappointed stares of the dwarves at the table and she looked at Thorin. “I’m so sorry for Bilbo’s answer, Thorin. I was sure he would take a leap of faith at such a chance.”

Thorin merely sighed deeply. “It matters not, we will do without.” With a glance to the others, he said, “We will leave before dawn’s first light.” Turning back to her, he asked, “Might we settle in for the evening?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” she answered, hurrying to rise and show everyone to couches and chairs. She led Thorin to the guest room and showed him in. “The bed is here, extra blankets in the cupboard. Is there anything you need before I go to bed?”

“Nothing, thank you,” he replied curtly and turned his back on her, starting to unfasten his armor. Her cheeks flushed and she quickly averted her gaze, but stayed, feet shifting nervously in the carpet; Thorin looked over his shoulder with an expression of irritation. “Is there something you need, Miss Baggins? I would very much like to rest before starting my journey.”

“Yes, I—I know.” She swallowed thickly and bowed her head slightly. “I know I’m not the one that Gandalf wanted for the company…but if it’s all the same, I’d be honored to accompany you to take back Erebor.”

Thorin blinked and turned to face her. “You?”

She had half a mind to be offended by his doubt. “Yes? Is that a problem?”

“Can you even fight?”

She cocked a hand on her hip and retorted, “I’m fairly handy with a frying pan, if I do say so myself,” she nodded firmly. “You should’ve seen me when the badgers began digging through the side of the home last summer.” Thorin chuckled lowly in his throat, and she smiled. “Thorin, I know you’ve no reason to trust nor even believe that I would be of any worth, but if there is a chance that I can be, I ask that you give me it and let me prove myself to you.”

He gazed at her. “Is this truly what you wish? To travel with a bunch of men? You know you’d be the only woman with us.”

“All the same, I wish to partake in this adventure.” She stuck out her hand. “Thorin Oakenshield, I formally request to join your company.”

He grasped her hand in a gentle but firm grip and shook it. “Miss Baggins, I accept your request. Welcome to the company.”

Her face erupted in excitement, and she hurriedly pulled back with, “I’m going to pack right now!” as she rushed for the door, she turned back around ran back and hugged him tightly adding, “Thank you so much, Thorin. I won’t let you down, I swear it!”

***

“I’m so sorry to bother you with having to ride with me, Thorin,” she said bashfully. “I don’t think the pony liked me very much.”

He had to hide the smirk at remembering how she’d practically wailed bloody murder when the pony became skittish and took off with her. “It’s fine,” he gruffly stated.

She looked down and cleared her throat, trying to ignore the warmth from his back bleeding into her. “Might we play a round of questions to ease the silence? I can’t imagine it would be very fun to ride in total silence.”

“If we must,” he replied as if annoyed, and perhaps on some level he was, but she did have a point that complete silence was sometimes tiring.

“Perfect! Since you are the esteemed company, you go first!”

He thought a moment. “What is a skill you’ve always wished to master?”

“Oh…I would say sewing. My mother could sew like no one I’ve ever seen.” She smiled fondly. “I can sew well but nothing compared to the clothes she could mend and make. My turn! When was a time in your life that you felt truly happy?”

“I was ten years of age. I had just received my first real sword. My grandfather had made it for me. Silver blade, sapphires in the hilt.” He frowned. “What qualities do you believe makes a person good?”

She paused. “Well, that is a tough one, especially if you believe that people have inherent evil.”

“Do you?”

“Of course not! I personally think that everyone is capable of good, no matter how bad a life they have lived.”

“A bit naïve don’t you think, Miss Baggins?”

“Perhaps. But if you go around distrusting everything that breathes, you’ll never be able to trust anything when it comes to truly needing it.” She inhaled. “Honor, loyalty, kindness, selflessness, love. Those make a person good. Someone who would put the needs of others above themself and go above and beyond for those they loved. Even if it meant they would be left behind.”

“Now that is truly naïve.”

“I know,” she said with a smile and before she could even open her mouth again, they heard,

“WAIT!”

Thorin pulled the reins, and everyone turned to see Bilbo running over.

“WAIT!” Bilbo called again and her face lit up.

“Brother!” she greeted as he came to a stop.

Bilbo panted heavily. “I signed it!” he handed it off to Balin who looked it over and smiled.

“Everything appears to be in order. Welcome Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin rolled his eyes and started to turn his own steed around. “Give him a pony.”

“Oh no-no-no!” Bilbo immediately said. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. I’m sure I can keep up on foot. I-I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays, y’know? Even got as far Frogmorton once—WUGH!”

She giggled when Fili and Kili hefted him up by his pack and buried her face in Thorin’s back to muffle her laughter; when she felt Thorin’s back rumble with his own chuckle, she couldn’t help snort even harder.

[starhaloeklypse]

Ladies, Gentleman, Those who identify as neither or both, It is FINALLY here. I am so excited to bring this comic to you all and I hope it resonates with many of you out there. Here is my cover of the Undertale Fan Comic I’m working on; “JigsawTale : The Ascension of the PuzzleMaster”. A Post-Pacifist ending long-running Undertale fanwork that centers the perspective of Papyrus. He’s our main character, and we’ll get to see how well he integrates into life on the surface in the human world , along with all of his friends and found family. How difficult is life for monsters who are perceived as even stranger than the average monster is ? He’ll have many obstacles to overcome because Papyrus just isn’t like most monsters. I’m very excited to share my work with you all, this story means so much to me and so much of it is inspired by and informed by my own lived experience. Papyrus is the character I relate to the most in pretty much all of fiction and I feel like I’m telling my story through him, sort of, but also his own at the same time. He’s my favorite for a reason and I think it’s time we give him a moment to shine. The story may contain some potentially triggering topics and events , but when the time comes I’ll be sure to give multiple detailed warnings for anything that needs it. It’s also meant to be viewed by older audiences as such, I’m not really intending for this story to be viewed by kids, it is a story that centers the perspective of an adult who doesn’t always get to feel like one and not only do I think it’ll resonate with that audience more, but it may not be suitable for those who are younger at all times, so I’d proceed with caution. Also I feel I should clarify, I don’t personally see this as much of an “AU”, To me it’s not an alternate universe, so much as it is an extended timeline that asks “What happens to everyone after the end of the ‘pacifist’ run, and what if we looked at all of that from Papyrus’ perspective ?” It’s closer to an epilogue story. Outside of Asgore and Toriel not being immortal in my version of the story and closer to middle age, there are no major differences to the original game, not enough to be considered an AU anyway, but if you see me tag it as one, that’s just to make it easier to find. Regardless , I hope everyone who’s interested gets a chance to read my story when it’s out, it’ll still probably be a while before that happens as I have a lot of things to work on and art skills to improve , but when the day comes , you will know. I plan to continue trying to update when I can. This is just to promote the comic and I hope it reaches as many people as possible. Thank you all for your time and patience, I’m beyond excited.

If you’re interested in the comic and would like to support its development financially , considering I’m a one-man band working on all of this by myself, I’d really appreciate it. If you’d like to request art from me I’d be happy to do so in exchange for donations as well. Any amount helps, and I’d be eternally grateful. Of course however, do not feel pressured to donate. I appreciate you tuning in either way and I hope you all enjoy the story.

[princessbrunette]

im not a big john b girlie but you write him so well! your most recent one w toxicex!reader n all was so well written!

you seriously nail dialogue so well, they feel so human and their dialogue conveys such nuance and glimpses into their personality and motivations. i'm genuinely such an impressed by writing and incredible skill, you have such a seamless way with words, painting a really charged, and clear image of these characters and scenarios.

p.s some questions if youre willing to answer !

what got you into writing fan fiction?

do you write your own original stories, or are you more happy and comfortable exploring these fictional worlds as is?

would you say writing is an outlet for you, from life, or drama, or work?

when it comes to dialogue, what do you think is more important - what is said or what isn't and

do you have any particular literary inspirations for dialogue (i.e a film with good dialogue like 'before sunrise' or a novel like 'normal people' or something) or are you more thinking of just real, conversations or straight from shows (like outerbanks, and etc) and watching how they talk rather than trying to emulate any other style?

sorry if this sounds like an interview or if this is a bit much or overwhelming. i've been reading your stuff for like a good year now, and i'm just curious!

adore your work, hope all is well sending hugs n love :)) x

this is literally so sweet <3 made me so happy tysm!! of course i’ll answer ur questions ♡

what got you into writing fan fiction?

well tbh i’ve been writing ‘fanfiction’ since before i knew what it was. i’ve mentioned a few times on this blog but i had this little notebook (that i still have!) where i’d write loads of self insert stories when i was roughly 9-10 years old. i would insert myself into my favourite disney shows with the characters i had a crush on etc. it was my favourite thing to do, id bring my notebook with my everywhere and it could keep me entertained for hours! that’s probably where i got my start.

do you write your own original stories, or are you more happy and comfortable exploring these fictional worlds as is?

on tumblr particularly i’m more comfortable adapting universes that already exist because i enjoy the community i can / have built off relating characterisations with other people on the internet. i can have some sort of semblance of whether or not im doing an okay job based on the feedback. however, i grew up writing for a stage / screen too, which i’ve recently gotten back into and i do deeply enjoy creating a universe from scratch.

would you say writing is an outlet for you? from life, drama or work?

not particularly! moments in my real life have absolutely inspired by writing but i’m not sure i use it as an escape. as someone with autism, routine is really important to me. i write as part of my routine mostly every single day whether i post something or not — and if i don’t write i actually feel pretty thrown off. i also write in other forms, for example i love journalling. i think if anything were to be an outlet it would be that.

when it comes to dialogue, what do you think is more important? what is said or what isn’t?

that’s a really interesting question and honestly i’m not sure! i think it varies from fic to fic. i do think what isn’t said can be very powerful, however i believe in order to grasp what is being conveyed without words the reader would really need to understand the character — and to my understanding not every reader does. not only do i know that based off requests i receive occasionally trying to force characters into boxes i personally think they do not belong — but not everyone is here to understand, period. some readers are casual readers, just here to thirst because they saw a couple of edits they liked (which is great, no problem with that!) in which case i like to make my writing accessible to everyone and i try to make their intention as verbatim as possible.

do you have any particular literary inspirations for dialogue (i.e a film with good dialogue like 'before sunrise' or a novel like 'normal people' or something) or are you more thinking of just real, conversations or straight from shows (like outerbanks, and etc) and watching how they talk rather than trying to emulate any other style?

not any that i can remember! i focus more on trying to make my characters seem like they stepped directly off the show even if it’s based in an au. i want readers to be able to hear the intonation in their voice, understand why they’d stutter when they did, see their facial expression as they say it in their head the same way they would if they were watching outerbanks. however, when i read over my drabbles — i often reimagine them as if they were adapted to a film instead. i would give anything to watch all of my drabbles on a private screen, each of them produced in a sofia coppola style of cinema. that would be really fun and girly and aesthetically pleasing i think.

i hope that answered your questions adequately !! 🩷

[ghostinthegallery]

I can't believe The Silence and the Storm is over a year old! The first anniversary was May 27th (yes I missed my own fic's birthday in my defense I was traveling and forgot how time works).

I'm trying to compose my thoughts because this sure feels like a time a blog post would be fitting. However, my engrams are scrambled because...wow do I have too many feelings.

As some background, I've been a writer for a long time. And I've written 3-5 books (depends on how you count "completing" a book but it's 5 full drafts, 3 of which were heavily edited). I wanted to be a trade published writer (still do) and for a while I was feeling good about my chances! I got lucky and received some wonderful professional mentorship (and met one of my best friends during that program!). I took that guidance to query agents (a necessary step for access to most big/medium US publishers). I knew it would be hard and take time but...4 years later all I have to show are a few requests, hundreds of rejections, and one agent who asked me to rewrite my entire book only to reject me anyway (me, bitter? No not at all nooooo).

I'm a creative person and sharing my work feels like sharing a part of myself. Something that is not easy for me to do. After a while I just assumed I was missing something necessary. My work didn't resonate, but I didn't know how to fix it. I’d never reach anyone in the way I so desperately craved, and it was my fault for not being good enough. I felt broken.

During one of many major depressive episodes my spouse bought me a copy of The Infinite and the Divine. That book has changed my life. I was never much of a fanfic writer before. Either I thought the original work was too good and I didn't think I had anything to add or it was too bad so why would I bother with it when I could just go read/watch something better? 40k inspired me though. The ideas are incredible but underutilized enough that I felt like I had something to add.

So I started writing necron fic because why not? There wasn’t enough for me to read, and I needed more robot stories. Maybe I could rediscover my love of the craft, make some friends, make some robots kiss. Distract my mind from the horrors. So I posted a little OC fic and actually got some nice comments. Hey! Positive reinforcement! Hadn't had that in a while.

Emboldened, I continued in the most normal way possible. Going from a 7 chapter OC story to a giant civil war epic including every named necron character I could find with 6 (then 7...then 9) POVs. It was the type of grand space opera I've always wanted to write but never did because I didn’t think I had the skill and it's harder to sell. Luckily AO3 is free. Ain't no playing to the market there!

Now, a 40k necron civil war space opera is...niche. So I wasn't expecting much. I would have been happy with some kudos, some comments. Fan art felt like a pipe dream, but what are writers if not dreamers? The main goal was to enjoy myself. It was low pressure fun, I love the characters, what could go wrong?

Nothing, but I was wholely unprepared for things to go as right as they did. Y’all have been amazing. So many great comments and ideas exchanged, gorgeous art, fun asks, a lot of screaming (it’s fine probably don’t worry). I’ve never had such a strong outpouring of support for my work. It feels incredible. But also sometimes confusing. I’ve trained myself so well to handle rejection that I kind of forgot how to handle acceptance. Especially for something so personal. This is a weird story about undead space robots, there’s a lot of politics, sometimes the robots have sex. It’s got out there head canons, and 99% of the tyranid parts are pulled out of my ass because nobody knows how the space bugs work okay. My weirdness being embraced on this scale is one of the greatest feelings of my life. But it’s also new, and way out of my comfort zone. I’m being seen and adjusting to that.

Still, writing in this space has been one of the most consistently joyful things in my life for…well, over a year now! It’s changed how I view my art. I actually can create stories that touch people and make them feel things. I can take risks and have them pay off. I know not everyone will love this, but some people really seem to love it. That is mind blowing to me.

It’s making me reassess a lot about how I approach my art. Writing and other. I still plan to pursue publication. I want to get paid for my work, but this is making me consider alternate paths that might fit my style (and psyche) better. I don’t know what the future holds, but if you’d told me a year and a half ago that a big part of it would hinge on an AO3 gay robot skeleton space opera…I would have thought you were nuts, but also hoped you were right because that sounds rad as hell.

So in conclusion, thank you all so much for reading <3

[demontobee]

Autism and Invalidation

I just can’t believe how QUICK people are to invalidate your experience. Which is why it is so important to learn to love and validate yourself.

I was diagnosed with autism earlier last year, because I had done tons of research on the topic and I had gone through the arduous process of finding a place to get the assessment done. During this process, I constantly doubted myself, and I went through loops and loops of feeling like an impostor but also the need to get answers. The assessment process itself was hard on my self-confidence as well, since I felt weird and out-of-place as an afab person assessed by the white male boy standards of autism research. Nevertheless, I got my diagnosis after weeks of filling out questionnaires and feeling uncomfortable in interviews. Having a formal diagnosis relieved me to some extent, but it has not yet cured me from self-doubt and the feeling of shame that washes over me at the thought of feigning it just to get attention, to belong somewhere, to have answers. Since I got the diagnosis, I have made huge changes in my life, which has been wonderful and terrifying at once, and I’ve had more meltdowns than I can count. And I should be proud. I have managed to overcome hurdles like my life-long comfort zone, I am trying to set boundaries and I want to find out what really makes me happy, what I was made for.

And it is exactly this achievement that makes other people doubt the validity of my experience as an autistic person.

My current therapist, who has no specific expertise in autism (especially not in afab queer autistic beans), told me last week that she thinks I was misdiagnosed. Why? Because I am able to handle change so well, because I am a very reflected person who knows exactly what their problems are and how I am harming myself, because I am able to think critically about my parents and the way they raised and treated me. An autistic person, it seems, would not be able to so that.

Bullshit.

You know how I am able to do all these things that she apparently thinks are reserved for neurotypical people? I have been teaching myself, in an ongoing and nerve-wrecking process, how to handle change. I have been working on loving myself and respecting myself enough to want to make changes that benefit me and my well-being. Setting boundaries is a hard and heart-breaking process for me. It doesn’t come naturally to me and I often feel lonely or guilty. For as long as I can remember, my mind has been going round and round reflecting on my actions, other people’s reactions, normal behavior and so on. Reflecting for me is not a skill that proves how “normal” I am, it is a survival strategy. And it is about time I put it to good use instead of fueling my anxiety and my self-criticism with it.

Just because you are developing skills that help you learn to love and validate yourself does not mean your experience as an autistic person is not valid. Formally diagnose or not. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

[pebiejeebies]

Uhh weird chat abt why I think nickel’s apology was sketchy

NICKEL.. wasn’t the one who said sorry.

AND BEFORE YOU SCREAM AT MY FACE ANYTHING LET ME SPEAK!! I HAVE A REASON!

let’s talk about clover.

remember an/some episode(s) ago when nickel went on a therapy session with clover? Right?

she told him to rethink his whole life right??

NICKEL DIDNT RETHINK HIS LIFE. CLOVER DID.

It was all clover. Think about it

she’s lucky. She gets whatever she wants because of it too.

if she WANTS nickel to be friends with balloon, she will WISH that he becomes friends with him.

WHICH MEANS. there’s a high chance this whole apology was all just clover’s luck

we’ve seen how that stupid box was forced to do something it mentally/physically couldn’t. And it ended up doing what clover wanted (or at least keep her safe)

think about it. One episode, therapy with clover, next episode? Magically becomes the most nicest man ever and supports balloon while giving him his own space.

His apology felt so off, at first I was like YOOOO NICKLOON!! But in reality it was all clover, it’s just so off to me man.. maybe I just hate nickel or smth

But really think about it, there’s no way ANY person or object would do a full mental switch up THIS EASILY?! I took YEARS to stop abusing my sisters mentally and physically. There’s no way a fucking month will change him this quick. TRUST. ME.

I was as horrible as nickel and even worse too, it took years of struggle and patience to obtain what I have today! But nickel? NICKEL? NICKEL?!?! makes the luck do it all for him.

and that made me so fucking angry. you made me question myself and why I took so long to change, you are making other people think change is THAT EASY. you PEICE OF SHIT. (Not you dw, I mean AE)

Literally to the point I feel like nickel was like some sort of puppet or smth

Clover: do this

Nickel: alright

AND EVEN WHEN HE DOES IT ISNT EVEN HIS FUCKING CHOICE. IT ISNT. ITS HER LUCK. NOT NICKEL. now nickel feels like he fucking achieved something, when it was all clover.

LIKE COME ON. you made the fandom happy over something that could potentially be a lie?? There’s no way he magically becomes all cute and sweet and STAYS like that after her luck goes away. There’s just no way.

and ofc it had to be clover, it was all just to say “Oh he changed so quick because of—“ EXACTLY. they are cowards. they don’t wanna make the character slowly struggle and try to get better

they wanna get to the point and that’s it

so everyone goes WOAHHHH NICKLOON!! YAYY!! (no hate to the nickloon shippers btw) without taking so long, because they don’t know how to write any characters without some big flaw

So let’s just make clover “help” him!! Cause she’s lucky!! Yay!! And he can just change in a day or two!1 YAYY!!!/s

HERES ANOTHER POINT TOO. SHE CAME OUT OF THE FUCKING BLUE IN THAT EPISODE. “oh I just wanted to be a detective” yeah sure ae. Sureee… sure thing mf. Just solve one fucking word puzzle game and call yourself a detective. Idiots. (Again, pointed towards ae)

take a moment and think about this. Because maybe I’m just wrong, I’m usually wrong anyways. I just need to know I can’t be the only one who thinks that clover was the one who apologized, not nickel.

But for once I feel like I’m right about this, and if I am.. AE im fucking onto you. You fucking cowards.

(and before you ask, no. I’m not okay. I hate how they made me question myself. And I hate how they’re saying it’s so easy to change, and I hate how they’re so lazy about someone’s personality shift)

I don’t hate the animators. I don’t hate the storyboarders, I don’t hate the voice actors, I don’t hate ANYONE in ae. EXCEPT these fucking writers. There are so many better writers out there with ACTUAL ideas and ACTUAL talent, and experience and so much more about life and personality.

even I can write better characters without even planning it out. Imagine. Skill issue fr.

Please note that this isn’t targeted to you either, your opinion on this is valid, so is mine. Let’s keep this chat friendly though.

[hazelfoureyes]

Why do I keep disappearing into fantasies and stories about fictional characters? When will I become happy and stop reading them to feel at least a drop of warm emotions?

Perhaps the life you’re in now isn’t fulfilling and stimulating enough? Maybe it’s better in your head.

When I was my most depressed I always stayed in my head. If I wasn’t asleep I was far away in my mind doing anything other than addressing the reality I was physically in.

There are signs here on the river banks warning people to stay away when it rains. Because even though you feel safe on the grass, it’ll become slippery and you can slide into the raging waters of the river and drown.

Fantasy can be like that for us who are lacking things in life. We’re on the grass, a safe distance from the depressive and consuming currents. But we’re just a shifting weight from falling down the hill.

From my personal experience, I had to fake those warm emotions in myself before I could even try to find it elsewhere or even actually make it myself. Before I could escape the allure of fantasy.

If I’m going to spend all day in my room then I made it feel like somewhere worth being in. If I’m going to be alone I want to enjoy my company, so I took time to try and dress like someone I’d be happy to pretend to be. Whether it meant trying harder to accessorize or just meant washing my hair that day and brushing my teeth. I made up things to be happy with, I romanticized the otherwise unappreciated things. I’d take myself to the beach or on long walks in safe places. Id get a hot chocolate and hold it with both hands and feel that warmth until it faded. Id microwave it so many times to get it back to temperature, even in the Florida summers.

I needed distractions so I’d ride a cheap thrift bicycle I got for 10$ for hours. I painted. I did these things and still daydreamed and fantasized about other places I could exist in, but slowly found myself proud of the strength in my legs and the skills I was making while I was still in my head.

But that’s what it’s about, right? Distractions and making up what you don’t already have but really want. Excitement, love, sex, power, allure.

Maybe you need a distraction of a different form? Maybe it would help to distract your body while your mind is away and maybe you’ll like this reality more and find your brain making better chemicals. Maybe it’ll lead to meeting people with similar distractions who fulfill you more than your fictional darlings. Maybe you’ll just enjoy being here more, in this world. Sometimes that doesn’t help. Sometimes we need different help. I have OCD and take medicine to manage it, because my brain needs the extra help.

Maybe your life needs more outlets for that creativity in your head.

I could be totally off base and entirely misunderstanding what you mean, so forgive me if I just went off in a useless tangent. Maybe I don’t understand all, in which case, I am sorry.

I hope you have the resources, will, and energy to find ways to get what’s missing and get those warm emotions in this reality.

I hope you’re on the river bank still, and not already sliding down the wet grass.

(Sending long distance hugs, warm and sweaty)