#but the catastrophe never happened and instead i just turned myself into—

[roboyomo]

me when i sacrifice my life trade my humanity for the machine to keep the world from dying

[doux-amer]

And look, I know I'm focusing on fun fun fun fun fun, but it helped because uh, the things that have come out about Yoon Suk-yeol's coup attempt are frightening and frankly more insane than you can even imagine.

(Just to keep the record straight, the bit about the DPRK uniforms is complicated because it hasn't been confirmed but hasn't been debunked yet either: x. We'll know for sure once the investigation starts.)

[foldingfittedsheets]

A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

[chuellas]

Auld Lang Syne | You never thought you’d make it to the New Year after the events of this previous one, but here you are spending it with both new and old acquaintances.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, mentions/consumption of alcohol, terms “Doll” & “Baby” used, Dazai makes a questionable decision, WC: 1.8k

A/N | I am so incredibly late to this but I’m a sucker for a good New Year’s kiss fic >.<

It’s strange to be celebrating after all that’s happened in the last year. There is certainly plenty to celebrate, but there’s also plenty to mourn over too. The feelings are conflicting, however, the more you drink the more you’re leaning towards the former. Maybe you’ve done enough grieving.

The other odd thing is the presence of the Port Mafia, in fact, the event you’re attending with your colleagues is being hosted by the very organization your president had previously declared an enemy. Sure, both the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia had worked together in order to stop the catastrophe that was Fyodor Dostoevsky, but that was only circumstantial — “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” You had thought it was one of those situations, but maybe Mori and Fukuzawa saw a benefit of everyone working together.

It’s not often that you agree with Dazai, but the two of you are on the same page as you lurk in a corner, unhappy with the situation. You both should have taken a page out of Yosano’s book and faked being ill. Although you think if anyone deserves to play hooky this evening it’s her. The one truly jarring thing about this evening is just how many wary looks the two of you were getting. Most are being directed towards the former “Demon Prodigy” but considering your past with the Port Mafia, quite a few were directed towards you as well. 

“How far into the fall do you think someone would get before passing out from shock?” You side eye Dazai at his words, only to find he has turned around and is now leaning over the ledge of the highrise you're on gazing down at the street far below almost longingly with his champagne glass still in hand.

Normally you wouldn’t entertain his intrusive thoughts but you’ll take the morbid question as a distraction from the pair of bicolored eyes that have been glued to you all night, making your skin itch with anxiety. Beggars can’t be choosers, right? You turn your head to peer over the ledge yourself and let out a breathy snort.

“Would a fall like that even scare someone like you? Most people that fall from this height pass out from shock because of how scared they are.” You take a sip of your champagne, the back of your head burning from the hole being seared into it.

Dazai turns back to you with an exacerbated expression on his face. As if he isn’t the one that brought up the subject. This is what you get for humoring him instead of just continuing to side eye him like you usually do.

“I wasn’t talking about just myself!” The brunette looks like he’s about to protest more but he goes silent when something behind you catches his attention and suddenly his face shifts into a dangerously amused smile.

You shiver and it’s not from the cold. “What? Quit smiling like that, you’re freaking me out.”

“You have an admirer.” He practically sings the words and you’re once again acutely aware of the gaze that’s been almost glued to you all night. 

“I’m quite aware that he’s been staring but thanks for reminding me, Osamu.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm as you scowl and take a generous sip of your champagne, finishing it off, while Dazai’s grin only widens. 

Chuuya has been watching you all night. He tried approaching you earlier, thinking he could just smooth talk his way back into your good graces, but you pointedly avoided him until he got the message. You didn’t want to talk to him until you were inebriated enough to not care. So far you’re at 3 glasses of champagne and the thought of the ginger still irritates you. The thought of him plotting with Dazai and packing up to go to Europe and try to play hero still pisses you off.

Dazai got a mouthful from you when he got back. He was apologizing to you for weeks before you finally let up and forgave him. But Chuuya has apparently been too busy with Port Mafia matters to put in more than half of the work Dazai did. 

The Port Mafia executive has a long way to go until you’ll willingly give him your attention. 

The problem is, you don’t want to be mad at him. You want to ring in the New Year with him. You want him to be your last kiss of this year and the first kiss of next year. You want to be securely in his arms, the place you feel the safest in this world, when the year starts. You want to start it off right. 

You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, too stubborn and upset to approach him but internally yearning for his touch and attention.

You should have just stayed home. 

Dazai’s cinnamon eyes flit between you and what you can only assume is his former partner behind you. You watch as something washes across his face in a short wave, something so small that you would have missed it entirely if you didn’t know Dazai as well as you do. Guilt. He still feels guilty for several things but you think this time specifically is for taking Chuuya away from you and not cluing you in on any of their plans. Dazai would never in a million years admit that, though.

So instead he says, “Y’know…I’ll never understand how the slug ever managed to captivate a girl as beautiful as you, but I do understand just how much you mean to him. Maybe you should cut him some slack, for both of your sakes.” 

His words elicit another side eye from you, this one far more suspicious than the others. He puts arms up in mock surrender, a goofy grin spreading across his face when he looks behind you again with a nod. He’s up to something but before you can figure out what it is, Dazai is hoisting you up and unceremoniously tossing over the railing.

You’re falling, plummeting to the ground and suddenly his question from earlier made sense. You shouldn’t have entertained him, you should have scolded him and walked away. This was another one of their plans. Somehow you weren’t scared, you knew he would come catch you. He always did. 

Your body, however, didn’t have as much confidence in Chuuya as your mind did. You feel an unsettling queasiness wash over you, waves of panic thrashing inside your stomach. Vertigo is surely fast behind with the way everything is moving around you in a blur that’s disorienting. But before it can barrel over you, a familiar sensation spreads across your skin, it’s warm and familiar. Almost like home.

Gentle, yet firm hands grip onto you and slowly halt your fall to a stop and suspend you in the air. 

“I’ll kill that damn Dazai for pushing you over like that. Are you ok? Didn’t hurt yourself while falling did you?” His voice drips with concern and you can practically see the crease in between his brows. 

Somewhere in your free fall you had screwed your eyes shut. You hadn’t even realized you’d done it or why. Maybe to try and settle the heavy nausea you were experiencing or maybe because there was that small part of you that was whispering in your ear that Chuuya wouldn’t make it to you in time. 

You take in a stuttered breath, grip instinctively tightening on his arms as he shifts gravity again so the two of you are standing comfortably on the side of the high rise you were just pushed off of.

You open your eyes to find one brown and one blue eye watching you cautiously. “...You didn't put him up to this?”

Your tone is accusatory and Chuuya flinches at the implication. A flash of hurt displays on his features before he looks away with a frown. 

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d go along with a plan that insane. I know you’re pissed at me but c’mon, Doll, d’you really think I’d risk your safety like that?” 

The answer is ‘no, of course not’ but the words get caught in your throat for some odd reason. You try to form the words but your vision blurs and throat spasms. When you finally get your lips to part a hiccup spills from them and you find yourself crying. Your fingers sink further into his arms, biting into the cloth. 

Gloved fingers are instantly caressing your face, wiping away at the tears spilling from your eyes. You lean into his touch, finally giving into him. You come to the realization that Dazai was right, of course he was right, you hate that he usually is. You’re never going to hear the end of it from him. You know he’s watching you admit to yourself that you miss Chuuya more than you’re upset with him. 

You melt into the Port Mafia Executive and let his ever present warmth sooth your distress, within moments you’re calmed down enough to form an actual response. 

“I know you wouldn’t.” You look up at the ginger and smile weekly at him. “Make sure to thank Dazai before you kill him, he pushed me, quite literally, to forgive you.”

Chuuya rests his forehead on yours and lets out a relieved but tired sigh. “I missed you-”

He’s cut off by the whole city erupting in cheers and fireworks going off, a signal that the new year has started. Chuuya searches your eyes for a quick moment, looking for any possible opposition to what he was about to do. He doesn’t find any.

The executive is quick to lean in and tenderly place his lips atop yours in the sweetest kiss you think you’ve ever experienced. It’s gentle but filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. Before you can figure it out, Chuuya is pulling back with a smile.

“Happy New Year, Baby.” 

Your smile is wide when you reciprocate the sentiment. “Happy New Year, Yacchan.”

The ginger opens his mouth to say something else but is cut off once again, this time by a mess of tousled brown hair peering over the ledge again and a sing-song tone. “You guys owe me! I think I should receive a New Year's kiss too!”

You watch in amusement as Chuuya’s brow twitches and his jaw clenches. “How ‘bout you kiss my damn fist you jackass!”

Dazai sticks his tongue out at him, taunting him like always — knowing exactly which buttons to push and you can’t help the light laughter that escapes your throat. You missed this. You missed them, despite how much they make you worry. The familiarity of it all spreads a warmth through your chest and you can’t help the feeling that this will, in fact, be a good year. Maybe the best you’ve had in a while.

[swaps55]

I lost my friend to cancer yesterday.

I’d really like to tell you about her.

We meet people throughout our lives who change it, in big ways and small ways, and ways we will never forget. Sara/ @dearophelia was one of those people for me.

I met her here, on tumblr, about 10 years ago. I wish I could remember what piece of writing I stumbled onto first, but she was such a gifted writer that I immediately wanted to see more. I somehow wound up following her live blog of a road trip, which was full of uproariously snarky jokes about Ohio. I had the courage to reach out and tell her how funny I thought she was, and how great her username was to this fellow Mass Effect fan who lived right down the road in Kentucky and got all the Ohio jokes.

We talked. We chatted. I introduced her to a group of people I played Mass Effect 3’s multiplayer with. She grew from a level one first-timer to a total badass who could carry a team and taught other people how to do the same thing.

And then my life fell apart.

Everything fell apart for me. Turning to my family wound up being a catastrophe, and I didn’t have local “real world” friends I could turn to.

So I texted Sara. Told her I needed somewhere to go, and asked if I could stay with her that weekend.

She texted back, “Yes.” Sent me her address, and said to ping me when I got there. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t ask why. She just gave me shelter. So I showed up on her doorstep, and she listened while I told her everything. She didn’t judge me. She didn’t think I was insane. She had every right to think both things. Instead, she gave me safe harbor at a time when I had no control over my life and didn’t know what was going to happen to me.

For the next several months, I made frequent trips up I-75 to Ohio. She kept an air mattress out for me. We played multiplayer. We talked about Mass Effect. We talked about life. We bitched about all the people who hated on one of our favorite characters. She introduced me to Babylon 5. I have so many memories of sitting on the couch in her apartment, with her cat Odo crawling around behind my head. When I eventually pieced myself together enough to leave Kentucky and start the work of starting over, it meant leaving behind that sanctuary with her in her apartment, and it was something I had to grieve along with everything else.

And now I am grieving it again, and so much more. I am so lucky I was able to fly back to Ohio a few weeks ago while I had the chance. Hugging someone goodbye, knowing it’s the last hug you’re going to get….well, it sucks.

But I got that hug.

Sara was so many things. She was a gifted storyteller with entire worlds in her head. One of the weekends I stayed with her, she had recreated the Mass Effect galaxy map on her wall with notecards and string to help her tell a story. She could create a character and make you fall in love with them in a matter of sentences. Because of her stories, I binge watched all ten seasons of Stargate SG-1.

She was also not afraid to unapologetically be herself. I had a lot of things to learn and unlearn about the world, feminism, gender, and sexuality, especially in those days. Listening to her fight for her space in the world and refuse to be told she was anything less than who she wanted to be helped me learn some of the things I needed to learn, and embrace the things I discovered about myself.   

She loved music. She made the best fucking playlists. She taped inspirational notes around her condo. She sent me a set of coasters that say, “Fuck It,” and “Nah,” and I use them every single day. Her smile was gorgeous. She lit up a room.  

And now she’s gone. I won’t see her in my tumblr notes anymore. I won’t see her on my dash. I won’t get pinged with new Odo photos. She won’t get to hear the new music I listen to that shows up in our Spotify blend. I won’t get to talk about the next Mass Effect game with her. I won’t get any more Ao3 updates in my inbox.

I wanted you to know about her – this pocket friend of mine who impacted my life in ways that I won’t ever forget.

I hope you will read her stories. Listen to her playlists. She was a brilliant human being. She should still be here. She isn’t.

And I miss her.  

[strawberryshortcake1495]

Stranger Falls AU 10

Excerpt from Journal 3:

All my grandnephew’s fears are unfounded. All I feel towards him is love and pride. He is a wiser man at twelve thirteen than I was at thirty. He has an incredible future ahead of him, his mother would’ve been so proud.

Speaking of parents, I learned from Stanley that Dipper and Mabel are adopted, and that their parents had tried to keep it a secret from them in order to protect their “innocence”. I do wonder about their biological mother, Terry Ives. That poor woman, I hope she didn’t feel any pain in her final moments.

Looking back on my own catastrophic mistakes, I realize one great pattern in all my follies. I thought being a great man meant being alone. Apart from the crowd. I bristled at the idea of sharing my accomplishments with anyone. I shunned my brother for one dumb mistake, and I shunned Fiddleford for having the sense to try to stop me from dooming the world. Even when I was given a second chance, I still held others at a distance. If I had been able to widen my circle of trust… if I had just told everyone about the prophecy sooner… we might have gathered everyone together and banished Bill before he was able to strike. I just couldn't get over the idea of myself as the lone hero… and it was Stanley who paid the price.

"Trust No One"

What an absurd and paranoid idea. Trust shouldn't be given unconditionally, but it should be given a chance to be earned. There is strength in having the humility to work with and sacrifice for others- a strength I now realize was in my brother all along.

Stanley Pines was the man who saved the world, not me. I spent so long thinking he was a selfish jerk, and he turned out to be the most selfless man I've ever met in any dimension. If I'm totally honest, I must admit that he's a hero and I'm… a hero's brother. And I'm okay with that. Thank goodness he is recovering his wonderfully twisted mind. And I vow to spend the rest of my days making things right between us…If only he gives me a chance. . . .

It is a beautiful summer day. Everyone is packing for their respective futures, but I have found my mind drifting to how lovely the cloudless sky looks beneath the August sun. I've spent too long with my head in a book; it's time to look at the world- and people- around me once more.

But what to do with these journals? They've been created, destroyed, lost, found, buried, and burned, and yet, somehow, despite everything, they remain here like a curse I cannot escape. I had suggested to Dipper that because of all the misfortune caused by them, we burn them in the last campfire of the summer. Mabel, Soos, & Stan all seemed very excited by this notion. But Dipper had a better idea: we burn all my Bill Cipher artifacts instead. So we did. My scrolls, carpets, window… everything I'd ever collected with Bill went into the fire. We made s'mores and told stories until sunrise. It was Mabel who ultimately came up with the best solution of what to do with the journals….

And so here we are at the Bottomless Pit, a mystery of Gravity Falls that I still have never fully solved. Based on my investigations, tossing these journals inside could land them just about anywhere. They may end up in the center of the Earth, being devoured by a subterranean dinosaur, or in another dimension, or somehow in the hands of another curious young mind whose adventure has just begun… perhaps someone who will find secrets in this book that were hidden even from me…

And that brings us to you, dear reader. If you are holding this book in your hands, you hold something more than a record of the curious happenings of a town called Gravity Falls. You hold a record of one man's folly and the journey of his family who saved him from himself. It's never too late to learn that growing old doesn't have to mean growing up.

Stay curious, stay weird, stay kind, and don't let anyone ever tell you you aren't smart or brave or worthy enough. If you have come on these adventures with us, then you are an honorary member of the Pines family, and your adventure starts today.

And if anyone ever gets in your way- well, we have an entire section on Curses. Have at it. For the last time, unless we meet in some distant world, this is Stanford Pines, signing off.

THE END

[mizimuse]

Tragic brow adventures || Slytherin boys+Pansy edition

1.Mattheo Riddle

So, Mattheo walks into your room, strutting like he’s on a runway, and spots you trimming your eyebrows. His eyes light up like he’s just found the key to the universe. “This looks easy. I’ll be the first Slytherin with brows sharper than my wit!”

He snatches your razor with a dramatic flair, flexing like he’s about to perform a spell. “Watch and learn, peasants. I’m about to become Hogwarts’ brow god.”

Fast forward five seconds, and he’s holding the razor in horror, staring at his reflection. “What in Merlin’s name happened? I’ve turned myself into a half-crazed troll!”

You walk in, and there he is, practically hyperventilating. “Help! I look like I lost a duel with a bush!” He gestures wildly, and all you can do is laugh.

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” you tease, and he shoots you a glare. “Not that bad? I can’t even take myself seriously with one eyebrow! I’ll never live this down!”

2.Draco Malfoy

Draco’s lurking in the corner, looking all judgmental as he watches you. “Seriously, it can’t be that hard. I’ve got this.”

He grabs the razor, eyeing it like it’s a deadly artifact. “Prepare for the debut of the new Draco Malfoy—brow edition.”

Next thing you know, there’s a gasp, and he’s staring at himself in sheer disbelief. “What have I done?! I look like a deranged gnome!”

You find him in front of the mirror, hair tousled and brow half-gone, practically whining. “This is a catastrophe! I can’t show my face at breakfast looking like this!”

When you chuckle, he narrows his eyes. “It’s not funny! I’m going to be the laughingstock of the whole school! Someone get me a potion to fix this disaster!”

3.Theodore Nott

Theo spots you trimming your brows and thinks, “How hard can this be? I’ll just take a little off the top.”

He grabs the razor, looking way too confident for someone who’s never done this before. “I’ve got this; I’m basically a grooming expert now.”

A few seconds later, he’s staring at his reflection in horror. “Uh, wait a minute. Where did my eyebrow go?”

When you find him, he’s staring into the mirror like he’s just seen a ghost. “I’m going to be bald on one side of my face! What will my mother say?”

You can’t help but laugh at his panic, and he huffs in response. “This is not amusing! I was trying to look good for once, and now I look like a horror show!”

4.Blaise Zabini

Blaise casually strolls in, glances at you, and thinks, “This looks simple enough. I’ll give it a go.”

He grabs the razor with a nonchalant attitude. “I mean, how hard could this possibly be? I’m practically a wizard stylist.”

Fast forward to him standing there, eyes wide as he realizes he’s just created a bald patch where his eyebrow used to be. “Uh-oh. This is a problem…”

You find him staring at his reflection, scratching his head. “Well, this is awkward. Did I just invent a new trend? Because I don’t think this is going to catch on.”

You can’t help but chuckle, and he shrugs. “Okay, maybe I should stick to just being naturally good-looking instead of trying to be a beauty guru.”

5.Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo sees you grooming and hesitantly thinks, “Maybe I should try this too? Just a little touch-up, right?”

He takes your razor, looking like he’s about to perform a very dangerous spell. “This can’t go wrong… can it?”

A few seconds later, he realizes he’s just completely removed one of his eyebrows. “Oh no, what have I done?”

You find him standing there with a deer-in-headlights look, practically on the verge of tears. “Please tell me this can be fixed! I can’t walk around looking like this!”

You laugh, and he blushes. “Why do I always make these choices? I just wanted to look decent for once!”

6.Pansy Parkinson

Pansy struts into the common room, eyeing your freshly trimmed brows. “I’m totally going to steal your look,” she declares, armed with your razor like it's a wand.

She goes in for a little trim but somehow ends up with one perfectly shaped brow and a completely bald patch on the other side. “This is fine, right? I’m starting a new trend,” she insists, batting her eyelashes with the one brow still intact.

Draco walks in and freezes. “What happened to your face?” he exclaims, looking like he’s about to faint. Pansy just smirks, “Oh, you’re just jealous that I can rock the one-brow look better than you ever could.”

Not one to back down, Pansy grabs your eyeliner and goes full goth. “Who needs brows when you can have dramatic eyeliner?” she shouts, striking a pose. “I’m practically a work of art!”

After a solid five minutes of her trying to convince everyone that her look is “totally intentional,” she finally concedes. “Okay, fine, help me fix this disaster,” she says, trying to hide her laughter.

7.Tom Riddle

Tom, always convinced he's the best at everything, sees you shaping your brows and thinks, “I could do that.” He snatches your razor, ready to show off his “skills.”

He trims a bit too much and suddenly has half an eyebrow. “Perfectly executed,” he declares, admiring his reflection like he’s just won a Quidditch match.

Draco storms in, looking flawless. “What are you doing, Riddle?” His eyes widen at Tom’s disaster. “You look ridiculous.”

Tom shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s a new trend. You wouldn’t understand, Malfoy.” He strikes a pose, clearly feeling superior.

Draco’s face turns red with envy. “Why do you think that looks better than mine?!” he snaps, crossing his arms dramatically. “You just look confused!”

"Shut up before i turn you into a ferret"

[happy-mokka]

Hi there.

I'd like to start with a warning first: Beware!

I'm rather new to tumblr, so if what will come next turns out to be total bs, I hope you all get out of this unscathed, forget we ever crossed paths and will be able to go on with your beautiful lives.

If you're still here, you'll about to hear the nice and accurate story of a guy that stumbled naively into a Good Omens binge watching weekend and came out forever changed.

Roughly 4 weeks ago I was asking friends what they were watching currently. I needed new material to turn to.

That's when it happened.

One of them casually brought up Good Omens on Prime.

I should give it a try.

Angels, demons. Terry Pratchett. Neil Gaiman.

Ok. I like fantasy. I like good story telling. I have an odd sense of bad humour.

I decided to give it a try.

To my eternal shame I have to confess, that until lately I hadn't read a single line written by both Pratchett and Gaiman.

I've read thousands of books. My love for them is so widely spread over all genres, that it simply did never happen. There was always some other book and author that came next.

Oh, how blind and ignorant I have been. I now clearly see the grave error of my ways.

If you can't forgive me, that's ok. I'm having a hard time myself doing so.

Be that as it may, I'm currently reading Good Omens and won't stop there. I promise.

Update notice 2024-06-03 I am now 6 books into Neil Gaimans works, last one was this...

Update notice 2024-08-02

It's been now a few weeks since the allegations on sexual abuse by Neil Gaiman came to light. As a fan of his work I am devastated. As a decent human being I absolutely stand with the victims. Will I continue reading or watching his work? Well, I still have some books on my to-do shelf stack that I already bought and would not want to waste them. So I will read them at some point. Won't buy new ones, however.

As for shows he's involved with, I will continue watching them, if with the given circumstances anything new comes out at all... Too many good people are involved and invested in the works, that don't deserve punishment for his doings.

Good Omens was nothing short than life changing for me. I will never stop cherishing it and the person who brought it into my life (and I certainly don't mean Gaiman by this).

So, where was I?

Right.

Binge watch session of Good Omens season 1.

Saturday evening. Around 9:30pm.

Episode 1 wasn't even running for 5 minutes and I was already sucked right into it.

Frances McDormand's God intro and the garden eden scenes.

I was instantly in love.

Michael Sheen had already been one of my favorites. His first minutes as Aziraphale directly hit home.

David Tennant was familiar but I also hadn't been into Doctor Who, so it took another 5 minutes to also fall for Crowley...

The path was set and I started to deep dive in.

6 hours, 6 episodes, 1 Antichrist and 1 almost Armageddon later I crawled into bed on early Sunday morning to get at least a few hours of sleep. I fell asleep with an almost idiotic grin on my face and a feeling of deep content.

Only 5 hours later, technically still Sunday morning, I woke up, prepared a coffee infusion and switched the TV back on.

There were important deeds to be done. Episodes to be watched.

I could sleep later.

Narrator: No, he would NOT sleep later...

I again immediately fell for the 2 celestials.

The slightly different arc, no dramatic catastrophe on the horizon, instead beautifully written side characters and wonderful new details on the two main protagonists...an evolving love story that had already been clearly visible in season 1...

And god, or Satan, HOW I LOVED JON HAMM as Jimbriel...

I again ended up binge watching the whole season, only interrupted by a few coffee and bathroom breaks.

6 hours later. The end credits were already over for like an eternity and I hadn't moved. Just sitting there, all goosebumps and teared-up.

I ate something. Had to. Don't really remember tasting anything or remembering what I actually had.

I was dumbstruck.

The friend that had suggested to start watching GOs, hadn't let out much more detail, so I hadn't been prepared in the least, for the emotional train wrecked state it had pushed me into.

Hours later I finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning before work I just sent Tori Amos' Nightingale in Berkeley Park to my GOs friend followed by a ❤️, as a signal that I had watched it all and let her know that there was no need anymore to hold back with talking out of fear to spoiler me.

We had lunch together and spent the whole time rambling on our GOs induced emergency emotional state and the whole beauty of especially Gaiman's season 2.

The next days we kept randomly talking about GO before she pinpointed me to tumblr, in case I wanted to dare a real deep dive into GO fandom.

So here I am now. A week's passed. I've spent hours of reading so many amazing posts around here. So many eye-opening moments.

I'm not only speaking of all those perfect interpretations of GO and it's characters.

What impressed me so much more is the fabulous energy especially radiating from the queer community.

Not being queer, only having a few queer friends, I hadn't really realized, just how big a thing GO in general and season 2 in particular was for you.

Update notice - 2024/04/10

Attention! This installation of base module "Sexuality" is currently being updated to a more flexible one...work in progress...

Update notice - 2024/07/03

At an age where my eyeglasses turned bifocal, I finally came to the realization, that not only my eyes celebrate the duality of life. In fact my whole being did it for as long as I can think back. It is astonishing, how efficiently one can get used to ignore feelings, that society considers unseemly. So, finally, this is me here, bi and queer🌈.

I was raised to walk earth open-minded, to respect everyone, no matter of religion, gender, nationality and sexual orientation. This is so deep a part of my DNA and personality, that GO for me was just a beautiful story about the blind following of religion, the meaning of life and, most of all, love.

Both protagonists are played by male actors and apparently being in an ages long repressed gay relationship? I didn't even consider this unusual or anything else than normal.

2 immortals fall deeply in love, first into humanity, life on earth and then finally into one another, while trying to overcome all the madness of belonging to two opposing sides of the same medal.

A great parable on the pursuit of happiness. Skillfully written for the screen and perfectly casted and played.

Well that was then.

Now I see you and I have to thank you, for opening my mind even further.

For giving so much joy so generously, although every day is still a fight for your rights.

For giving me a space here among you and the chance to delve some more in beautiful minds and fanfiction.

So, if you're still here and reading this, maybe it was not all bs. Maybe it gave you some minutes of entertainment and distraction from every day's stress and problems.

It sure was for me.

I'll end this with some favorite Shakespeare quotes, although now I'm not so sure any more, if not some red haired demon might have actually written this...

"If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber’d here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends."

☘️

A Midsummer Night's Dream - William Shakespeare

🔻🔻🔻

More personal middle aged ramblings:

👉🏻 birthday meldown 2024 🔥

👉🏻 my year in books 📚

👉🏻 1 year anniversary of Good Omens 😇😈

[idontmindifuforgetme]

how do u cope with being betrayed or scammed or played, it happens to me so much, i don't want to change who i am to stay safe, but i am so angry and devastated and hurt, i want to cry, i feel like it triggers my cptsd, i feel so unsafe and don't trust anyone.

it has really helped me to reframe misfortune: instead of going “bad things always happen to me,” i’ve switched to “bad things always happen for me.” have i been through some shitty experiences i’d rather never repeat? totally. but it doesn’t make it any less a fact that they did happen—so i might as well learn something from them. every time someone walks out of my life or i get unlucky or i have to deal with an unfavorable situation, it’s for the purpose of my growth. it’s to get me to the place i need to be. this growth mindset stops me from catastrophizing situations or thinking i’m doomed to tragedy. life really is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.

i’m also a fan of holding myself accountable. if it’s a continuous pattern in your life to allow people to betray you or scam you or play you, maybe it’s time to turn the focus on yourself and go “why is that the case? what can i do to prevent this? what errors am i making that allow these people into my life in the first place?” there’s absolutely no shame in that. i just think it’s flawed to not change, to do the exact same thing you’ve been doing, all while expecting the end result to be different. absolutely do not self-flagellate—some people truly are shitty & there is very little you could’ve done differently to prevent that—but you are a locked gate, not an open entrance with no door. you’re not hopeless. you allow people in and out of your life at your own leisure. better yet, maybe it’s time to learn the warning signs so you don’t let these people past the gate in the first place. understanding you have agency is so instrumental in preventing these things from reoccurring.

finally—cptsd is very complex. it’s beyond the scope of anyone who hasn’t gone through it themselves, me included. it’s totally okay to go “maybe this isn’t something i can control all by myself” and to invest in therapy, in a support system, in anything that could mitigate it. don’t be afraid to admit to yourself that you need help. and please don’t be too hard on yourself friend, this all happens to the best of us. i hope you figure it out and find the people who’re right for you & with whom you can feel safe x

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Thinking about the the worst Hokage, minus Hiruzen is really difficult… it’s a bit like trying to make a mortal rating of characters based on decisions they made when they were in power. Problem with that is assuming that they are above human feelings and bias… No one is going to be completely good or completely evil, and while an improvement may not be perfect it can still be better than the previous situation.

Hashirama made a school to teach kids how to fight, yes. Which was better than what was happening before where they were sent off to “learn” on the battlefield.

Tobirama had very strong prejudices against the Uchiha, which were deeply ingrained in him as a means of survival after a lifetime of fighting against them. He also advanced a lot of the institutions and systems that set Konoha up to thrive.

Minato may not have done much but when faced with a catastrophe, he did his best to minimize the damage and casualties.

Hiruzen (and I say this as really despising him) probably genuinely thought he was doing the right thing when he took over as Hokage again after Minato’s death and in all of the terrible things that happened after.

Tsunade was doing the best she could moving from crisis to crisis but it was also a job that she didn’t want, and she made that known.

I don’t know enough about what Kakashi does as Hokage but there will certainly be things in it that weren’t the best option.

I think that sometime people forget that leaders are human too, capable of making less than perfect decisions or able to turn things into a perfect utopia in just a few years. There is another problem in there where changing people’s takes an incredibly long time and is a very slow and painful process… but I’ve already already dumped a bunch of stuff here.

See i don’t expect any of them to be perfect. I don’t think Kakashi is a ‘perfect Hokage’ as there is no such thing.

But i do hold a certain standard and ‘clan Massacure’ is far below that standard.

Tobirama loses points for admitting he thinks that ‘if the Uchiha clan died to protect Konoha then it’s a good thing’. That’s never an acceptable stance to have. Children were killed and there’s never an acceptable time to agree that it was alright to Massacure children.

As you said Tsunade was just trying to survive and keep the village going for the five years she was in power.

I’ve said it myself, Minato wasn’t Hokage long enough to be a good or bad Hokage. He never got a chance to do anything meaningful.

Kakashi’s time as Hokage are only really addressed in ‘Kakashi Retusden’ so you’d have to read the book, but even he’s bias against himself. Like this man actually did do some meaningful good changes (capture enemies instead if killing and even going so far as having iruka teach him how to knock an enemy out because he’s only ever known to kill. The Acadamy being open to everyone even if they’re not going to be Shinobi and just want to learn things that can help them in their every day life, creating trade agreements with the other villages and helping Konoha become an economic giant instead of just being a shinobi village). Kakashi did all of this and still craps on himself so much that he thinks Minato, a man who had no opportunity to do anything as hokage, was more deserving of a book than him. He also never expected anyone to like him. He thinks about an old woman in Kiri who spit on him during a visit and he holds no anger toward her because he understands people are going to be angry and hurt after all the war. Her son died to a Konoha shinobi and Kakashi accepts her anger being directed at him)

I will say that Tobirama making the system as is is honestly not something i look up to. Like, i know he may not have intended it to be used the way it was, but five year olds at the acadamy learning to fight? Six-ten year olds doing the chunin exams? He set those things up and as someone who was a child soldier for a war against the Uchiha i HATE it. His brother wanted so much better for future generations and Tobirama focused soley on making Konoha a military village and nothing else

[enchanted1waters]

{Dancing on blades }

Ellie williams enemies to lovers x f!reader

Warnings: smut in the next chapter 👀, gotta build up that tension fr. VIOLENCE. minorsdn! GORE.

Idfk how many words <3 enjoy

Fog and storm clouds slowly crept in as the sun began to set, leaving only a sliver of light to cascade over and through the leaves of the tall trees and vines. I slowly crept through the brush, spacing out the entire time we walked. I was an offensive general mainly, I owned two katanas. Certified in aim and precision in my blade work. Not a single soldier has had a chance up against my rage. My sister was recently killed, 1 month, 2 weeks, and 1 day. She was my other half, the only symbol of life worth living since our parents passed. Until I heard a twig snap in the tall grass.

Up until this catastrophe of a meet cute, I was a part of a group called the shadow stalkers, now before you go saying oh my god, why the hell would you guys name yourself out of the most creepy creature- well to start off my rant, ehm I DONT FUCKING KNOW ASK THE GODDAMN LEADER, HELAGIN. MAYBE BECAUSE WE'RE HUGE ON STEALTH? WE LITERALLY AREN'T HEARD OF UNTIL WERE SLITTING YOUR THROATS IN YOUR SLEEP? Sorry, I quite hate that question. It's a very frequent question for newcomers. Even the idiotic newbies they continue to put on my assigned missions.

Carrying on my ignorant group I was assigned to consists of 3 poorly trained men, all which I hate expect one. The rest contains 2 women who are pretty educated just not physically. The qualified being posted at base considering the current outbreak of violence following my sisters death. All of these people quite literally never stop talking, hence me not hearing their signaling in my ear piece. Ya see I sent myself off to take my total happy ass up to find a place for my quadrant to sleep tonight, secure it and radio it in to the team. One that was being led by sergeant l Adams, a white, blonde, blue eyed, 5'10 on a good day man. "Better get a move on, General Vilaria." His egotistical voice boomed in my ear piece as I walked up the street scouting. "Watch it Malibu Ken, wouldn't want you to hurt your plastic voice box running your mouth." I retorted back in a mocking matter, causing a lot of them to respond with giggles and chuckles over the line. Which led me to switch it off.

So I then took my sweet time. Walking up to the Seattle hotel, and walking right in, my eyes caught a glimpse of the chandelier. Gears turning in my head, took only two minutes for me to block the entrance, set the traps by the hallways and aim for the chain holding up the gigantic crystal light fixture. My finger squeezing the trigger followed by the bone rattling sound as the masterpiece shattered, alarming everything in the building to come flooding towards me. About 4 or 5 runners instantly blown up on the traps, one clicker left crawling it's way towards me only to then be fed my blade down it's throat.

Hotel cleared, secured, now to scavange, but first I needed to turn my ear piece on to radio in. Then a very strange noise filled my ear as I flipped it on, static. Nothing, this wasn't new. This happened sometimes if our directed quad was out of range, nothing a few flights of stairs and finding a lookout point wouldnt solve. I quickly found a ledge to search from. I saw officers 16, 23, 72, 54, and.....9 was no where to be seen. My eyes showered intensely over the valley attempting to find the number 9 desperately. That's when I saw leaves moving. Yet I couldn't make out what was causing this, so I pulled out my sniper rifle off of my strap back. Focusing in, my eyes sadly didn't find 9 getting up but instead sliced by the neck in one swift motion by a figure. A gasp fell from my mouth, not from horror and the desensitized gore but the sudden attack and not being able to radio it in.

Not wanting to let the intruder know of my awareness, I threw a rock towards a van next to officer 56, Adams. He quickly jumped back, following my line of sight, to which I subtly coaxed my forced companion towards the figures whereabouts. The blonde boy instead just swatted his hand and turned back around. I swore at least 50 times. Looking through my scope in frustration, I hit my knee once more. Fuck, he isn't gonna listen and get the rest of them killed. As I moved my scope slightly over the horizon, I was met with reality hit straight to my face, seeing as all 4 remaining quadrant officers were already face down or slit open. When I attempted to relocate Sergeant Adams, the figure had him in a chokehold. Then only was my vision met with brown, cold, hard eyes.

Fuck.

I had been alone plenty of times, but knowing I had now made eye contact with the successor of the fallen teammates. That sent chills on my fight or flight instincts.

That's when my senses rang a sound from the bottom of the building. Heavy footsteps. My adrenaline suddenly coursing through my veins. As I counted the footsteps and voices. I felt the strategy in the air, quickly throwing my past objective out of the window. I found myself listening for the door to click, and it did.

"You sure it was a girl? We had a male kill 12 of our soldiers." The man's voice grumbled through the air. "Yes. Nora reported a brunette with short hair. Girl that was with the bastard Abby bashed in." My heart pounded, hands starting to slip from my hiding place. That's when I heard the floor creak as the man entered the bathroom. "I can still hear her begging Abby to stop, boo FUCKING hoo." His laugh rang like poison in my lungs. The taste sour on my tongue. The millisecond he stepped beneath me, I let go of the ceiling's inner walls. In the brief falling action, I felt free, yet so spiteful. Every tear spilling into this moment fed a booming monster of grief. Leading to taking to it out on every goddamn being that stands in my waym

As I made contact with the muscular man Imediately began to claw at his eyeballs, causing him to send me flying back sandwiched between his back and a tile wall. My ears ringing at the crunch of tile and a rib of mine. The squash of his eye as my left hand finally dug it's burrow, I seized his moment of agony to grab my dagger attached to my belt. Swinging my right arm across his entire neck, yet just before pulling back I was cut off by a loud. "WAIT!" a woman, finding herself walking in on an intense battle, pointing a gun at me. "Don't you dare you little bitch", she says. My eyes met hers; in moments like these I experience dissociation. Yet for viewer experience, here I was eyes blown wide with blood lust, blood gushing down my hand, as I held a blade to a man's jugular, spitting the words, "or what." This version never met my sister except once. Once when we were still on the ranch. I still remember the fear in her eyes and she pulled my relentless 13 year old self off of the coward of a man. Snapped out of a trance as my eyes met hers. My soft skin now tarnished with blood stains. Yet Kai held me so gently. As if I would break if she held me a smidge firmer. "It's okay, little butterfly. He's not gonna hurt us anymore. We're safe. I promise."

Snapped back to reality, I flung my left hand from his eye and straight to his hand limply holding a smg to which I stocked the woman fill with many bullets. The man screamed In despair, but the butterfly that once would hold this man through his heart break now kicked him over, tied him to a chair, and leaned on the counter. "Tell me where the fuck Abby is." His lip quivered. He shook his head slightly, "don't play dumb, I see your wlf intials." I said firmly crossing my arms. "Why I do such a thing when you spend an entire clip on my WIFE." He called out with tears running out of his wounds. "It was half, ass hat. And you're lucky I made it quick. What did you say?" I lightly tapped my chin, "ah, yes boo. Fucking. Hoo." This sentence brought the grown man to a Hollar as he scream cried. I walked over to him putting a knife into his mouth in between sobs, lightly wedging between teeth. "You tell me now, and I'll kill ya fast. Resist and I'll take each accessory out one by one like a mother FUCKING Polly pocket." My eyes burned into his, a silent promise of my words. Tears streaming down out of his eyes, my gaze adverted, "that's actually disgusting. It's a shame your eyes aren't as sealed as your lips. Maybe if we take them too, hmm? Replace them to take duty as your eyelids?" I say with a growing smile. He quickly shakes his head avoiding puncturing his mouth with the blade.

Ten seconds later, his words are on a sheet of paper and someone's bursting through the door. My instincts spring into action, my boot positioning the still screaming man in front of me as a shield as I throw the dagger towards the figure, landing in the doorframe, cutting a piece of auburn ish hair. Taking my spare knife out to play, I stab the man in the head as the figure ducks behind a couch.

"I'm so sick of people crashing my shit, fuck off would you? Especially if you're with the wlf, then I'm gonna slaughter EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU" I say throwing a bottle of liquor onto the couch and throwing my lighter towards it. "I HATE THEM- SHIT , ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?" a raspy feminine voice booms from behind the flames. My mind blinks for a second at the fact she isn't one of them.

I'm halfway across the living room running for my blade in the frame, before im tackled to the floor. The impact causes my head to go a little fuzzy, the weight on top of mine, the heat all kick starting a part of me which is completely irrelevant in my current situation. "Halfway there sweetheart." I reply causing the auburnish brunette's kinda beautiful eyes to go wide eyed as we make eye contact, and a little flushed at my use of words. Allowing me to pin her legs against each other, flipping her over. She attempts to sit up, to which I use brute force to slam her back into the hardwood. "Sit. Good girl." I say with a slick smile as I reach for the blade she grabs my hand and pulls it the complete opposite direction. Hurdling me against another wall, slamming me against it.

Her vieny, calloused, tattooed hand wrapping around my throat as I look seriously finally into her eyes. Both now firm and cold. "If you aren't Wlf, who the fuck are you." She says. My eyes try to stay focused on her eyes, yet my gaze slips to her freckles. All spread out waiting to be counted and kis- "fuck you, and FUCK this." I said kneeing her in the stomach and elbowing her back as I grabbed the dagger out of the door frame. Quickly grabbing my strapped bag with all of the weapons and supplies. My cold walls starts to close again, as I'm outback into survival mode once again.

As I take one last look at the figure on the ground gasping for air, pointing my knife I promise her if she follows me. She won't be able to see which limb will be cut off next.

^~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~^

Many days fly by, every night that passes. I lay strapped to a tree limb up high, forced to look at the stars. Every constellation reminding me of the threatening girl I had met and her freckles. I curse myself out of the intrusiveness. Drifting off to sleep once again after looking over my route to the target of my grief. That is until I'm awoken.

The sounds barreling through the corridors, tripping over each other , limbs flying, spores airborne. I look down the street a couple hundred yards to see a total of three people, running, struggling to get a break from the hoard. I try to shift and ignore the sound. But the thought and sounds continue to eat away at my chest.

Cursing myself to hell I hurdle my way towards the warfare. Climbing up a fire escape and through the old ladder bridge I had set a couple days ago, I made it to the church bell, where I had tied a rock to the pendulum in the middle. Grabbing it I swung it causing a distraction long enough for me to get down to the three blind mice. Following closely behind as two of them started to notice why their luck had changed. As one of the girls, a new one with a darker skin tone and pretty dark eyes smiled gently at me as if I was a saint. I felt guilty twang in my chest for I was not worthy of such kindness with the amount of blood I've spilt.

Directing them to a daycare I had found on a supply run, me and a taller handsome man slammed the door shut behind us. "Hurry- shit. Get that desk!" I said in a struggle towards the woman who wouldn't stay off of my mind. She easily pushed it towards me with a few grunts. After a few objects stacked on top of each other, I noticed the windows just a clicker busted through. Throwing its limbs around sporadically at the nice woman I had just met. Before it could lay a hand on her as she backed away, I stabbed right through its skull with my katana.

"Jesus, you KABOBBED that thing. Thank you." The pony tailed woman smiled and laughed, laying a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I nodded in acknowledgement as I looked over at the other twin "help me, hammer up some boards. Now." I cocked my head towards the play pins we would later use as security on this task.

As I hung the wood, secured the strength, and calmed my breathing. Not a single thought didn't include the stupid attractive woman. I'm so fucked.

[something-like-a-heart]

I just reblogged something that made me think a little bit about my personal experience of neurodivergence, that thing about how autistic characters on TV insult people, argue with the characters they’ve insulted (usually unintentionally) instead of apologising, and seem to be incredibly confident like they’ve never had to learn that people will get sick of you and abandon you at some point, once you’ve crossed a particular line in the sand through one of your behaviours, and you won’t see it coming until after they’ve done it. So you try your best not to be accidentally annoying or insulting or “too much” in any way, but it still happens and it’s your fault; when you get lonely, and people tell you that you’ll have to “be yourself” to make friends. Meanwhile, “being yourself” is what lost you these people in the first place. “Being yourself” is dangerous. Shall we say, it touched a nerve.

Anyway, it largely tracks with my experience of neurodivergence far more accurately than most of what I’ve seen in neurodivergent representation onscreen. Even when characters who read as autistic or otherwise ND on television or in the movies do cross that line, their friends will usually take them back. Meanwhile, I’ve had friends, good friends (or at least people who I thought were good friends) suddenly just cut me out of their lives for no apparent reason—at least, none that were apparent to me. Sometimes it gets back to me that they thought I was annoying, that I was too weird, that I laughed too hard or didn’t smile enough or that I had insulted them somehow (though I never really find out how, because apparently I already know what I did, which is ridiculous; I would not be asking if I actually knew what the issue is). I do my best to be polite and not show it when I’m in a state of sensory overload or I’m emotionally overwhelmed (and that last one has been harder to deal with than usual since my mother died five months ago). I try to act appropriately at all times but damn, is it HARD. And no matter how “normal” I try to act, some of my less “normal” traits always come through.

I’m extremely fidgety and always have been. It’s difficult for me to figure out when it’s actually my turn to speak in many situations, leading to me either being ignored or accidentally interrupting. I feel emotions very powerfully—the problem is that I’m not great at expressing them until they reach a point where they’re damn near unbearable. I over-explain because I’ve been misunderstood too damn many times throughout my lifetime, but people don’t listen because an explanation is considered to be little more than a poor excuse at best and passive-aggressive at worst. I’ve also been accused of passive-aggressive behaviour when attempting to take responsibility and make amends for something that I know I’ve messed up. When I’m emotionally overwhelmed or in a state of sensory overload I temporarily lose the ability to speak. I am always as precise in my words as I am able to be (again because I’ve so frequently been misunderstood) and although it’s been the source of some of my funniest jokes, I’ve also often been accused of taking things too literally; people sometimes assume that I’m actually too stupid to understand figurative language. I can be extremely blunt if I’m not careful, and I have to focus on smiling because my natural tendency is to have a very neutral expression on my face, especially when I’m in a state of hyperfocus. I misread situations badly if they don’t resemble things I’ve encountered before. And no matter how much energy I put into making myself acceptable, I never quite seem to manage it. I mean, I do my best not to be an asshole, but I just don’t, and probably can’t, perceive things from the same perspective as most people, so sometimes I get it horribly and catastrophically wrong.

This is why I don’t like playing new-to-me board or card games with people who already know the rules very well. It’s a bit too much like the most frustrating parts of my everyday life—everyone else already knows the rules, but if I make a mistake because of a rule that I didn’t know, or that I forgot because I had to absorb a lot of complex information all at once, people get mad at me and accuse me of trying to cheat.

And yet, I feel like I’m not actually allowed to claim neurodivergence. I’ve never been formally assessed or diagnosed with anything. That’s why I often tag my posts and reblogs about neurodiversity as “probably autistic”—I’ve been told by a few people who have a good reason to recognise the signs of certain types of neurodivergence that I probably am on the autistic spectrum, but without a proper diagnosis I can’t help but wonder if maybe I’m just making excuses for inexcusably immature attitudes and behaviour. Either way, I’ve gone through a significant amount of my life feeling like I have a defective brain, and I can’t help but be angry at myself sometimes for just not working the right way.

[jujurose222]

Holy Grail

I don’t remember a single thing from any movie we watched. All I remember is how your body feels and how you made me feel. All I remember is your body being like a big red button that says, “DO NOT PRESS.” Because, if it were pressed, the world would be destroyed, ending in catastrophic damage. But the urge, just to see what would happen, it whispers my name. “Press ittt! See what happens!” The impulsivity travels incessantly. I love the feeling of “you’re not supposed to do it, but you are going to secretly do it anyway. You will get away unseen, you always do.”

Nobody ever knows it was me, it’s so funny. I usually get away with everything. I always have, my parents never cared. Secrets are the backbone of my family, of course I am a pro, the youngest gets the best of all worlds.

I remember a few things that’s a lie. I remember Jason Bateman being a pervert. I remember being attracted to it. I remember being ashamed of that. That’s all I remember. I remember faces.

Remember. Member. “What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot, Nor arm nor face nor any other part / Belonging to a man.” Comedy.

I remember your skin. I remember your hands. I remember your hair. I want to run my fingers through it forever. I remember your eyes. I see them everywhere. I remember your feet, I want to tangle with them, like roots.

I remember your smell. I want to eat you. Never got my chance, I was scared I would fail. My dentist said, “if anyone tells you that you have a big mouth, they’re lying.” Toothy, practice makes perfect. Fear. I could not have done it with braces anyway. My dad called me “bucktooth” growing up.

You ignited my true appetite. So when you were gone, I starved. Not on purpose, on complete accident. Food was nothing anymore. I was so hungry for something else. But circumstances just fought me.

I remember your warmth. I remember you spilling on my stomach, I want to bathe in it. I want to paint my body with it.

I remember it on my hand. I wish I never washed it. I wish I could have kept it to moisturize my skin. I want it in my bathroom cabinet in a glass mason jar.

I love the texture. I love how warm it feels on my skin. I want to sip on it like a glass of wine. I want to wash my body with it. I want to cook with it, the secret ingredient.

Most of all, I want to feel it spill inside of me.

I want it all to myself. Nobody else. It’s too precious to be enjoyed by just anyone. I will guard it with my life.

Like a dragon, turning anyone to ashes whenever they get too close. Like a lioness ripping faces to shreds. Like an angel whose presence kills.

It is my holy grail.

If they can fight the battle and win, I would allow it. But trust me, that will not happen.

“Nobody wins in an argument against you.” It has been said again and again.

I will never argue with you, I cannot be mad at you. Instead I argue for you, despite what they all said. Insane I have always looked, because I always tell the truth.

“You do not understand. I see something so great within him.”

I defend you to everyone. Only I am allowed to say cruel things about you. Maybe that is cruel of me, but the cruel things I say, I love to say.

If I am saying something cruel about you, it is because I love it. I want it. I need to experience it.

The cruel things you do turn me into a dripping mess.

I love to speak about you.

You are my secret. You are not actually, everyone I love knows I love you, but they think I’m talking about their kind of love. So they think I should be getting over it soon. They are so funny.

They cannot even comprehend how much you mean to me.

You mean everything to me. They have no idea what everything is. I do.

I have looked it in the eye. I have felt it in my spine. I have touched it in the dark, and felt the light.

[darkwitchhideout]

It is what it is

“I think people would be happier if they admitted things more often. In a sense we are all prisoners of some memory, or fear, or disappointment - we are all defined by something we can’t change.”

- Simone Van Booy, The Illusion of Separateness

I spent four days speaking to no one, meeting with no one, texting no one. I wasn’t on some sort of meditative assignment; on the contrary I was falling apart, but it was inward. I don’t know how to explain - imagine an explosion happening inside a tightly shut container. And I didn’t know how to open that mess up for anyone to see. I didn’t want to. I wanted to be the only witness to my own catastrophe.

I often translate my pain into words, beautifying them to smooth the edges, conceal the bruises and yet keep the face of the it under a transparent veil - for you to see just enough of the cracks and not the shattering beneath. I know the trick. I’ve been in the trade for too long. But in these four days, I lost my language. I lost my words. And I didn’t even want to find them. No concealer, no touch-up; just bare, raw, filthy grief, pain, and anger. I won’t sugarcoat it, it was terrifying. It is terrifying.

I kind of get it, why people tend to retreat into their shell or silence in moments of acute pain. As adults, we learn to perform in order to belong. And the most popular act is to create performance out of pain - you can’t just feel the hurt, that’s weak and depressing, and please don’t we already have a whole lot of depressing? You need to create something out of that hurt - try poetry, or a story with a character arc and tragedies and a happy ending! Oh how about comedy? That sense of humour really charms people, you know? You’re a writer for f*cks sake. Laugh at your pain and watch how people turn in awe of you. “God! That’s hilarious! How are you so funny!?” How am I so funny, yes. How am I so funny when I’m hurting. “What is so funny about it?” my counselor always asks me when I laugh while sobbing. And I just shrug. I don’t know. There is nothing funny, but I laugh. I perform.

I rarely see happiness transform into something else - not to say there isn’t any art created out of joy, but joy unadulterated is always welcome. When I want to laugh, I don’t instead contain or morph it into something else. I just laugh. News of promotions, birthday wishes, congratulatory messages don’t require reconstruction. That is why they have template greeting cards for each of them. But a heartfelt apology won’t fit in a template, an “I love you,” will take you years to vocalize, try writing about/to a person you dearly miss and your fingers would tremble.

It’s scary. It’s scary to see pain as pain. Hurt as hurt. They’ve all been saying and writing about vulnerability being brave and boy, are they right about it! Being both the holder and the witness of vulnerability requires grit. In a world, in a society that continuously and consistently breaks you in one way or another, isn’t it ironic how we try to avoid the most natural response to it? It is also natural to see more artists, more writers, more comics taking the stage. There is so much tragedy, so much pain to transform. We are in abundance of material like never before.

Have you seen how it slightly shakes people up when you are honest about your feelings? You might not even be addressing them or their reality, but even bearing witness to raw emotion spooks people. Even if that emotion is their own. I am a writer and i love to show my poems to everyone, but the most difficult things I’ve written aren’t published anywhere - an unsent letter to my mother, a series of emails I wrote to save a dying relationship, a small letter I wrote on a piece of tissue paper while I sat crying in a cafe, a mail confessing my feelings to someone who walked away, some random words I scribble and scratch in my journal in a fit of tears, texts I type to myself in the middle of the night. I cannot even imagine putting it out on display. On some days, even I can’t read what I wrote. I just put it aside, pretend like it doesn’t exist. Reading difficult things is as scary as writing them. People turn away - writers after writing, speakers after saying, readers after reading. But what shall we turn to instead? Pretence? Avoidance? Positivity? And for how long? I’ve gone through a lot of pain to know pain. But, I don’t know how much more pain will I need to go through to know how to feel it.

There will always be an audience for the performance. Hope sells because pain sells. But what is pain when it’s not selling? It’s just pain. And I’m trying not to be scared by it. I’m hoping you don’t get scared by it as you read this. Because there is a lot to feel, and it is only going to increase. Like I said, we are in abundance of material like never before.

[13xwishes]

@wickedlyxcreepy: [ Catastrophe Pt 13 ]

Toralei growled as she found herself surrounded on all sides. These ghoul-damned goody-ghouls! Couldn't they just for once leave her alone?

Not that it really mattered, in the end. Despite what she'd promised Gigi -- with her claws crossed behind her back -- Toralei had never intended to really keep Catty's little relationship a secret. Catty Noir was a big name star, after all -- the world deserved to know those kinds of details about her life!

That's why Toralei had already scheduled the pictures to go up online. She had anonymous accounts across a few websites, and she had selected a handful to post the pictures to, just to be sure that the cat got out of the bag. They were all due to go up in a matter of minutes…

… and there was nothing the goody-ghouls could do about it.

The sound of someone's voice besides Cleo's brought Toralei back to the present. Catty was talking to Gigi, and Toralei's ears twitched as she focused on them instead of that jabbering mummy. When she could make out the words, the orange werecat rolled her eyes, huffing out an annoyed sigh.

"'Please don't shut me out,'" she mimicked, moving her claws like an additional mouth. Claw-d, how had she ever looked up to that silly singer?

"Honestly, I don't know why you even bother with her," Toralei said to Gigi gesturing dismissively toward Catty. Her fellow werecat didn't deserve any more attention than that. "I can't imagine saddling myself to a mewling kitten as pathetic as that."

She shrugged. "But, on the other hand, look who I'm talking to! It makes sense that one pathetic weakling would attract another pathetic weakling. I shouldn't really be so surprised."

Catastrophe P1 13 || @cxttynoir / @wickedlyxcreepy

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Mentioned: @muralmxse

       ❝ I'm sorry... I promise I won't. Never again... ❞

Gigi only was listening to Catty, showing a small smile but her worries were threatening to crawl out. She only wanted her safe and yet she pushed her away to do so. Just like she tried to do with Whisp...

She hopes her kitten would forgive her for doing so. Gigi would make sure she would do right by Catty.

Toralei's last few words though... struck a bit of a nerve. The genie didn't care if she was insulting her own being, but for Catty...

She didn't know what or why it came out... but even Allah's patience had limits...

❝ Maybe if you had someone who actually loved you, you would understand. ❞

The jeers and callouts behind her from the other ghouls towards Toralei were ignored by Gigi as she embraced Catty with all her might...

... and then the moment was interrupted by the sounds of phones going off all at the same time.

Gigi pulled away as the ghouls gasped behind her, Frankie being the most vocal. Seeing the looks on their faces, Gigi's dread came back all at once seeing the headlines...

[ QUEEN OF LOVE SONGS FINALLY SNATCHED UP? ] [ POPULAR POP STAR'S SECRET FLING? ] [ CATTY NOIR OFFICIALLY OFF THE MARKET? ] [ MYSTERIOUS GHOUL AT CARNIVAL WITH CATTY! ]

No... no... despite all she had done... Toralei let it happened anyway?

A mixture of emotions swirled around her right now that Gigi' barely heard anything before she turned to look to her ghoulfriend...

       ❝ ... Catty? ❞

What were they going to do now? Their secret was out!

[copperbadge]

I got my diagnosis back from the ADHD testing. Diagnosis is indeed ADHD, inattentive-mild. Although at this point, that’s one data point in about eight they gave me that I didn't ask for, and it's now the least of my worries.

I'm going to talk about some pretty sudden and heavy shit behind the readmore and probably say some things that people who've had a lot longer to get comfortable with their neurodiversity and/or mental illness than I have, which is roughly an hour at this point, a) shouldn't have to hear and b) may find offensive. But I'm trying my best to dump a bunch of feelings somewhere least harmful and Tumblr is it (ironic). Sorry if I fuck this up. Please don’t feel obliged to read this or to respond, I don’t require response, all you really need to know is “Yep I have ADHD, looking at next steps now, and I’m okay.” 

It is possible that I was subconsciously trying to prove to myself that I don’t need to get a therapist because actually cognitively I’m totally ordinary and can be scientifically diagnosed as neurotypical*. If so, that backfired pretty badly.

* A good grade in being average, something it’s both normal to want and possible to achieve etc etc

It turns out that regardless of a diagnosis of ADHD I have chronic severe anxiety (!! something they didn't even intentionally test for) which is making the mild ADHD diagnosis seem really Not Mild in day to day life.

I genuinely thought they were just gonna tell me I was an average human being imagining things because I’m Extremely Online. Instead they basically said "You have ADHD and are otherwise an off-the-charts intelligent person that probably people like very much and you are never going to believe that about yourself" which, mood. Trope, even. And the stress of managing this contradiction between “very intelligent and reasonably charismatic” and “Does not believe he is either” is really, apparently, fucking me up.

Now even if I don't want to learn new skills for managing any of the issues that I've just found out I have, or work through whatever's making this shit happen, I still have to go to therapy if I want any kind of medication for the actual diagnosis, and apparently I’m so obviously fucked up that no therapist in their right mind would medicate me without making me work for it first (nor should they, I get it, I’m just saying).  

But it means my options are 1. Therapy, with all that entails, or 2. Continuing to handle it myself and hoping it doesn't result in a long slow tailspin where I lose my job and end up homeless. The evaluator also told me I have the impulse to catastrophize...

In any case, I can't tell if this comes across as me being funny or me being emotionally devastated, so to be clear: I am okay. I'm just processing and that usually involves me yelling a bunch. I'm not at this point looking for advice or even validation or reassurance, I do actually know that I have many people who care about me and they care because I'm a good person they love and will love even if I don't turn in work on time.

But I had to assemble my thoughts somehow and also felt like you guys deserved some kind of catharsis-resolution after hearing me talk about the testing, so I'm multitasking. 

Something I'm now diagnosed as being good at doing, actually, that part of the evaluation was very flattering.