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mediumgayitalian · 5 months ago

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“Hello, twerp.”

Kayla grunts at him. She is focused, intently, on something small enough to be covered up by her hands and curtaining hair; Nico decides it is likely some kind of explosive. There is a reason she, Banned From Arts ‘n’ Crafts For Criminal Reasons, is sneaking into the Hermes’ cabin’s time slot and hiding behind Julia.

Instead of confirming that she is, indeed, planning to blow up at least one of her brothers’ bunks in their sleep tonight, because of Plausible Deniability, Nico swings a leg over the picnic table bench, settling in next to her. She spares a second of attention to blow a raspberry at him, seemingly unprovoked. Nico reaches calmly over, plucks a pair of scissors from Connor’s hands, which he allows because of who he is as a person, and snips a piece of her hair. In response she pulls a notebook from her pocket and puts a little tick mark next to Nico’s name.

“So,” Nico says, choosing to ignore that. “I have a Question.”

“Ten dollars.”

“I’m not paying you, you little shit.”

“Then wonder in silence.”

Nico digs two wrinkled fives from his shoe and slams them on the table, scowling. Kayla pockets them.

“Proceed.”

Nico glares at her, noting her twitching mouth, and remembers that he does, in fact, need her help, and her brother is, in fact, his best friend, so challenging her to a duel to the death is a bad idea on both counts.

(Nonwithstanding the part where she has deadly accuracy with any projectile from almost any semi-reasonable distance. And he has, like, a sword. So.)

“Your brother,” he starts, and he does not need to clarify which one, “is always trying to…feed me.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “he is internally a seventy year old Southern woman. He does that.”

“Fruits.”

“Hm.”

“Oranges, specifically. Like, every single meal.”

“…Ah.”

It is a very knowing ah, Kayla’s little noise, and in fact she sets her project aside. (It is, in fact, an explosive.) She turns slightly on the bench to face him, lips pursed, hands folded. She blinks at him for several moments. Nico holds her gaze, remembering he is out ten dollars.

“My dear brother,” she begins, “my lovely, kind-hearted, smiley, morning person brother, is neurotic.”

Nico waits. This is, apparently, the end of her sentence, as she does not continue.

“I am aware,” he says slowly. “I have been present during every rant about Hollywood inaccuracies about medical sciences.”

She nods sagely. “This is true. You have. You are, however, by virtue of his cripplingly low self esteem and fervent belief that his mere existence is a Literal Actual Curse, spared from much of his most…colourful…contingencies.”

“Contingencies,” Nico repeats.

Kayla nods again.

“Yes. You see, dear future brother-in-law —”

“Cease,” Nico snaps, reddening.

“— our lovely William, also known as your Special Guy, according to Nico With Severe Blood Loss.” continues Kayla, not ceasing, “is under the impression that you, like all people, have a Limit.”

“…A Limit.”

“Yes. A point or level beyond which something does not or may not extend or pass.”

“I know what a godsdamn limit is, Kayla.”

“You seemed confused.”

“I am going to strangle you.”

Openly snickering to herself, she moves on.

“He feeds you oranges because he regularly paces around the cabin in the middle of the night stressing about your vitamin levels,” she explains, finally. “He doesn’t know how to tell you that like a normal person because he’s afraid he’s going to weird you out. Ergo.” She makes a flippant gesture with her hands. “Citrus.”

“Why is he so godsdamn cute,” Nico mutters to himself, then remembers to throw out a hasty, “Thank you,” before scrambling away from the table, ignoring the gathered snickers, and beelining for the the Demeter cabin. “Gods.”

It is empty, thankfully, when he strolls in, except for Miranda in the front gardens, who holds up a finger as he gets closer and whispers to a struggling seedling.

“Hey,” she says after a moment, smiling up at him. “What’s up?”

“I need,” he starts. He purses his lips, rocking back on his heels. His hands make some kind of motion. He’s not sure what, exactly, he didn’t give them permission. “I need.”

Miranda, thankfully, has had years of experience communicating with non-speaking entities, and as such is relatively fluent in Nico. She dusts off her hands, patting the spot beside her. Nico sits as indicated.

“Try a deep breath first,” she instructs. “When your brain is back up and running, try again.”

“It’s running. It’s running a lot.”

“Oh. In that case, might I suggest a small shout of frustration?”

“You may.”

He clears his throat, resting his hands on his diaphragm to Maximize the Output, as he has been previously instructed, and yells. A passing satyr jumps a full five feet in the air and flees. Nico grimaces, calling apologies after them.

“They’re never going to like me,” he grumbles.

Miranda pats his head. “There, there. One issue at a time.”

“Solace,” he says at her invitation, gesturing again. “Oranges.”

“…Ah.”

“He is. You know. Right?”

“I must confess I do not.”

He takes a moment to collect himself. Or, well, he tries to. He’s had an easier time trying to wrangle errant souls surfing along the Styx, but whatever. He literally owns his brain. It Shall submit to him, or he’ll get a new one. Watch.

“Will is…intensely thoughtful.”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Miranda agrees. “Once he brushed past me on the way to dinner and felt that I was going to get a cold, so he took the food I got and exchanged it for soup and veggies and Gatorade and stuff. He forgot to actually tell me that I was about to get a cold, at the time, but it was really nice of him in hindsight.”

Nico makes another loud, strangled bleating noise. Thankfully, no satyrs are harmed.

“He is so!”

“There, there,” Miranda says again. “You’ll get to full sentences soon, I’m sure of it.”

He takes a few moments to have a minor crisis in the peace and tranquility of Friendship. It’s this new thing he’s been trying. Will tells him it’s usually called ‘trust’ and ‘vulnerability’. It is mortifying for the most part but in small doses is kind of cool. Mostly.

“Who takes care of Will?“

“He doesn’t really get sick. Apollo genes and all that.”

“No, like. Emotionally.”

“Oh.” Miranda frowns thoughtfully. “Um. Chiron, maybe? I’m not actually sure.”

“It needs to be me,” Nico stresses. “He always takes care of me, and I want to, like, repay him. Not transactionally,”Nico rushes to clarify, “but, like, mutual care-ily.”

“I see.”

“You see?”

“Yes,” Miranda says sagely. “You must Show Him. That you are Invested in your Relationship.”

“Yes!” Nico cries, gripping her by the elbows. She meets his gaze head on, eyes wide and wizened. “Yes, exactly. Relationship Investment. You’re so smart.”

Miranda preens. “Thank you.” She stands, brushing off her jeans — fruitlessly, she’s got grass stains on top of grass stains on every piece of clothing she owns — and offering Nico a hand. Together they stand and observe the various shrubs, trees, and vines surrounding the cabin, hands on their hips.

Nico narrows his eyes. “Should I just get him oranges?”

“I still don’t fully understand the orange thing. But Will likes peaches.” She leans up and plucks one off of the largest tree, holding it out to Nico. “They make him think of home.”

Nico takes the peach and inspects it. It is, of course, impeccable — thick and heavy, skin soft and unblemished, full enough with juice and flavour to be fragrant even from the arm’s length Nico holds it. This is the kind of peach that wins fairs. This is the kind of peach that sits, prized, in a market, watching as mothers and hipsters claw at each other. This is the kind of peach that immediately upon first touch strikes within you such an intense urge to chuck it at the nearest hard surface and watch it splat into a beautiful explosion of Squelch that Nico has to, hastily, set it down and out of immediate reach.

“It’s perfect,” he declares.

“Don’t throw it at him,” Miranda advises, eyeing the fruit herself.

“Shan’t,” Nico promises, and it doubles at a warning to his brain because he can’t lie to Miranda, obviously, so his brain better Check Itself. There will be no peach throwing. Peach holding, only, and peach giving.

He waves goodbye to Miranda as he hustles off, headed for the bustling infirmary. There have been no great emergencies today — there would be a lot more of Will’s echoed screeching if this were the case — and many people who have walked in have walked out, minutes later, scowling, so now is a good a time as any. He could of course wait until Will is done his shift and they meet by Cabin Seven, like usual, but this is a Pressing Issue. Will can no longer continue to believe that Nico has a Limit, as Kayla had so unhelpfully explained. Nico is Limitless. He is a sine function. He is an eternal abyss. He is the final end of Chiron’s patience, if the horse is to be believed.

Also, the peach is really really tempting and Nico honestly does not have all that much control over his brain. It usually kind of does as it pleases. That’s why he has so many Situations.

“Solace,” he shouts, banging open the screen door loud enough to make everyone inside jump, “GET the hell over here.”

“I. Am.” Will holds up a patient’s arm, which has been hastily butterfly-clamped closed and is now being stitched. “Um. Is it urgent?”

Nico snaps his mouth shut. “No.” He stalks over to where Will is sitting, still bewildered, on his favourite stool, and stands with his arms crossed behind him. He nods at the injured camper, clearing his throat. “Proceed.”

“…Okay.”

Because Will is a Professional, his gaze remains focused on the gaping wound he is fixing. Because no one else at this camp is, everyone else chooses to gawk. Nico lets the fires of Hell enter his eyes, like Father showed him, and glares them all into subservience.

“Alright,” Will says, several minutes later, patting the patient’s knee with a smile. “I’m gonna wrap this, Jen, and you gotta keep it dry, okay? Have ambrosia twice a day like I told you and come see me at the end of the week.”

“There’ll be no scar?” the young girl hedges.

“Not if you follow my instructions,” Will promises. “Although you’ll be just as beautiful with a scar, kiddo, I promise. Ask your mother.”

Jen looks at him doubtfully, but Will is one of those people who’s unbelievably hard to distrust. It’s infuriating, if you’re Nico and committed to the whole goth/emo lifestyle. Probably comforting if you’re a normal person.

She leaves, and it is abruptly very quiet in the infirmary, which is crazy because it is abruptly never quiet at camp unless people are dead, usually, but no one is dead, and people are too godsdamn nosy to flinch away from Nico’s glare, or maybe they’re not scared of him anymore, and hey, isn’t that something. The world is so busy, all the time. Things keep happening. Who’s fault is that, again?

“Nico?” Will asks, rocking back on his heels. His hands are suddenly clean of blood and grime and his scrubs have been swapped out. They stand, also, at the other end of the infirmary, right outside of the on-call room. He looks up, and conversations have resumed, and Will is watching him, intently, bright eyes slightly too wide, front teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, Ace bandage winding, unwinding, winding.

“This is for you,” Nico blurts, and shoves the peach at him.

Will blinks. “Oh.” He stares at the peach, a moment, before a smile erupts on his face. “Oh! Thank you!”

He takes the peach, gently, from Nico’s hands, and holds it close to his chest, wide hands gentle so as not to bruise, smile gone close-mouthed, giddy. The rocking gets every so slightly faster, and the slight breeze from the open screen door ruffles his frizzy hair, and his nose is scrunched, just slightly, enough to wrinkle his dotted feathers, and Nico’s mouth is very, very dry.

“I do not,” he tries, and it grinds along his paper-parched throat, near silent, “I do not have Limits, William.”

The rocking stills. Nico mourns it.

“…Sorry?”

“Limits,” Nico repeats. “I do not have them. I am Limitless. Purge the thought.”

“You have limits,” Will says, alarmed. “Um, we had that talk, right? About pushing yourself and why that is generally regarded as a bad plan.”

“That was you shouting at me in between nectar shots and frantic mothering, actually, but that’s not what I meant.”

Will doesn’t answer, only tilting his head.

“You’re neurotic,” Nico attempts to explain, and as could be expected by literally anyone with a brain this goes poorly, and he rushes to amend. “I mean! Well, you are neurotic — but! There is a but! Stop looking at me like that! You are neurotic but!”

“This is a very bad friendship break up if that is what you are trying,” says Will in a small voice, and Nico resolves to kick his own ass later tonight to Atone.

“I like it,” he hurries to explain. “You and your — neuroses. All of you, I like it. There is no Limit. Capital L. You’re groovy. On — point. Fleek? What do the kids say. I don’t —”

“Oh,” Will breathes, thankfully putting Nico out of his misery, “oh, this is about the oranges.”

Nico nods miserably.

“The oranges are —” Will cuts himself off, staring down at his shoes. “Um, scurvy freaks me out.”

“…Scurvy?”

“It — collagen synthesis is an active process? In your body? And scurvy makes it degrade really quickly. Which kind of tears your body apart by reopening scars. On top of other things. And you — were on a ship, you know. For a while. And you sweat a lot. And you don’t take the multivitamins I give you.”

“Because they’re gross,” Nico says, breathless, “and I’m not — sweaty.”

Wherever sunlight touches Will’s skin he tends to glow, slightly, and his freckles fluoresce the longer his hand takes to traverse the space between them, past the open window, resting, lightly, on Nico’s wrist.

“You are,” he says, gently. “You have — really low magnesium and potassium levels. Just, all the time.” He glances down at the inside of Nico’s wrist. “Right now, actually. Will you eat a banana if I go get you one?”

Will will go get a banana, and Nico will follow him, and they will sit, somewhere, probably the big rock by the lake, as Nico eats it, and Will will eat his peach, and Nico will watch his throat bob, and Will will talk, hands gesturing, peach juice everywhere, and they will stay there, probably, way past sunset, right till curfew, and then they will sprint, as they usually do, to avoid the harpies, and they will go to Nico’s cabin, first, because they always do, and Will will snag an orange as they run past the fruit trees by the Demeter cabin, and he will press it into Nico’s hands, firmly, smiling as he says goodnight, and running back to his own cabin. Where he will, according to Kayla, pace, and worry. Where he will rant about Limits, and how close Nico is to approaching them.

“Will,” says Nico seriously, grabbing his hands. Will’s eyes snap to his, wide, wider than usual, and they are so blue, so so blue, are things usually this blue? He’s startled by it every time. “Will, I am a sine function.”

“I don’t understand,” he admits.

Nico nods. “That’s okay! Just — peaches.” He reaches out and pats the fruit, curling Will’s fingers around them. “For you. Okay?”

Will glances down at the peach. He glances back up at Nico. He looks down, finally, at their hands, twined around the fruit, and holds there, one, two, three seconds.

“Oh,” he says, finally. “Oh, you don’t — oh.”

“Peaches,” Nico repeats, “oranges.” He pulls one hand free and draws a line between them. “You get it?”

“I get it,” Will says, softly. He looks up and smiles, small, private; too-big front teeth just barely peeling out. “You never reach your approached value.”

“I really don’t even get that close.”

“I’m kind of losing the metaphor, here.”

“Okay.”

Nico squeezes their hands together. Will squeezes back, shifting his weight.

“I’m still gonna — you still gotta get your vitamin C.”

“More oranges?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He rubs his finger over the backs of Will’s knuckles; he shivers. Nico meets his eyes and he smiles, widely, hurting his cheeks, and Will smiles back, and he rocks, and Nico is an abyss, and he is falling, falling, falling. “I like oranges.”

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reverseblackholeofwords · 1 month ago

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You know, for someone who writes often (sometimes) and who is also somewhat cripplingly self-aware, I can still be surprised by what I find out about myself when I write. Sometimes I find a thought inside of me that I didn't know was there. And sometimes it's something sad or angry, some big emotion I'm not usually all that comfortable processing.

But sometimes it's a surprisingly hopeful thing. Sometimes I write a series of words about a character finding hope and joy and love, and I realize that I really do believe in those things and that they're worth persisting for. They're an essential enough part of me that they bloom up through my words in ways that I wasn't expecting.

And that's why I think we need to create, to find those little pieces of ourselves and give them some room to breathe. We might even surprise ourselves.

#writing inspiration #writing advice

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mavaneth · 1 month ago

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sometimes, oftentimes, i'm so horrifically disgusted by the mere notion of myself - a hatred that goes deeper than scarred hips and too-soft flesh.

i want to slice myself open down the middle to find the root of this sickness, palms stained by a self-induced sternotomy. i would pick at my arteries with my nails, plucking out the rot like hungry worms from gray meat - wrenching out whatever it is that drives me to make myself so sick.

because i am cripplingly aware of it: the way i sink my teeth into things as though i am gluttony incarnate, and they are the sweetest rotten fruit. the way i indulge so deeply, sucking the marrow from brittle bones and licking my tacky fingers clean.

i gorge, i devour, and don't even have to look in the mirror to know that i will never wash away the stain of overindulgence.

how painfully obsessive i am, and it is more than in my own head - more than the mold beneath my flesh. it manifests on the outside too, in the crescent marks on my skin like a masochist's brand, seared by my mania of indulgence.

and how i wish i could romanticize my marks enough to not feel like a swine. god, i know i've tried.

but oh, how unbelievable my own gentle lies are when i find myself on the bathroom floor once again, with burning flesh beneath fluorescent lights - for the bites of my own nails have now certainly gone too deep.

#writing #writeblr #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #creative writing #poetry #poem #original poem #original writing

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the-lonelyshepherd · 6 months ago

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1, 3, and 8 for the ask game!

HELLOOO chrome ty for the ask sorry it’s late i was sick so i missed a lot of asks 💔💔

ima call gonna do wof for this one 🤭

the character everyone gets wrong

okay i’m not like. in wof fandom at all anymore but i remember qibli being SO mischarectarizarized bc like. everyone was like the silly goofy charismatic guy and like NOO!!! YOUVE FALLEN FOR THE CHARACTERS FACADE MEANT TO BE DISMANTLED BY THE VIEWER!!!

he’s like a cripplingly self aware constantly on edge little beast who, when we see his internal dialogue, literally carefully plans out every single move he makes from how he talks to how he could kill someone if the situation calls for it. he’s so,,,,, lwk miss his ass #qiblicomehome (haven’t read the books in like a year or two)

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you’ve seen on tumblr

ummm OH there was a recent thing where someone was trying to argue that like certain side characters are actually sooo boring and the fandom is just obsessed w them to be different (ie flame)

which is just. not really true. the real issue is that tui has a problem of setting up really interesting concepts and characters and then going nowhere with them or abandoning them. so fandom just elaborates on that!!

also the nazi rainwing post lol

8. common fandom opinion everyone is wrong about

ummm hmm. again not really in fandom anymore so idrkkkkk OH OH snowflake and snowfox being bad rep bc they’re evil. no wrong i love them #fuckedupgaydragons or whatever

OH WAIT also the darkstalker defenders eeeeesh

okay teehee this was so funnnn also probably inaccurate but wtv. silly dragon books that raised me

#teehee ty for the ask #sheps asks #chrome #wof #wings of fire

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festivalofthe12 · 6 months ago

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just ahhhhhhh it's so INTERESTING when it comes to like Yuki and masking and external perceptions because like

He grows up thinking that his one value in life is being the Rat. It's what makes him useful to his parents, and what makes him Akito's golden child. That's all. Everything he has is conditional on that one specific thing.

And he internalises all of that. He has to act in ways befitting of the Rat, or his parents will reject him - just like he sees with Ayame. He does what Akito wants or Akito will get mad, and pleasing Akito is the best thing ever, right? Being close enough to feel Akito's love first-hand? To be special?

Of course he grows up to be cripplingly self-conscious. To be borderline obsessed with how other people expect him to act and how he can live up to those expectations. To bury any real feelings so deep down he doesn't even know how to admit them to himself, let alone express them outwardly. He has outlets - Kyou is a societally (and Sohma-ly!) acceptable subject of his anger. But he is his performance: underneath that, what is there?

And yet... what he gets from all this isn't even good. His parents suck and never really cared about him anyway. Akito, too, was far more harmful than helpful to him. And he doesn't like being who he acts like. He doesn't want the fangirls to coo over 'prince Yuki'.

He's trapped in this prison that feels like it's of his own making, because he's one acting like this, following this role, even long after it's stopped serving him. And he's in some ways aware of that. But he doesn't know how to stop.

Over and over, he internalises. He suffers in silence and tells himself he's not. He's stressed out all the time with the effort of keeping up the act and that leaves him irritable in the few situations he doesn't need to. He desperately wants to please people, but doesn't trust anybody.

He doesn't expect anyone to truly care about him, aside from what he Is or what expectations he's able to fulfil, because for years he begged for help and received none of it. He's long since stopped believing that things can really change for the better, even after he escapes to live with Shigure. Even at high school, he's still falling into the same patterns. The best he can hope for is that people are impressed with him and think he's really Special. The idea of people not thinking that way about him triggers that childhood anxiety of abandonment and worthlessness. But he also hates it.

He's so very, very lonely. He just wants to be like somebody else. To connect. But until Tohru, he never really properly got that. (Yes, Haru tried really hard, but he was still too tied up with the Juunishi and the Rat and the Cow to truly break through it all.) He literally never got to make friends and have healthy relationships modelled for him. The world, as far as he has experienced it, is transactional: he is Special, and thus he is kept.

Of course he's so distant and inscrutable and cold. Of course he acts 'like he's better than everyone else'. Of course he struggles to accept that Ayame really does sincerely care about him. (He sure didn't act like it for fifteen-odd years!!!!) He's been masking for so long he doesn't know where the pretending ends and where 'real Yuki' (whoever that even is) begins.

#Yuki Sohma #Fruits Basket #mmmmmmmbgg. character rambling at 11pm <3 #haha boy I wonder why I an autistic like Yuki Sohma so much!!!!!!!!!!!

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wahbegan · 8 months ago

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I do think one of the most ironic and universally worst things about human nature is that EVERYONE thinks 90-95% of the population is fucking stupid and ain't worth shit. The anti-vaxxers and rednecks and boomers and coal rollers and w/e look at you with the same contempt you see them. It closes the door on meaningful discussion, and it just makes people so cripplingly un-self-aware. Everyone thinks some people shouldn't be allowed to run shit. Nobody includes themselves in that group. Believing your worldview is correct is an inherent and inescapable part of human nature, of course you do, otherwise you wouldn't have it, but allowing for doubt and dialogue isn't. It's damaging and dangerous.

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sixty-silver-wishes · 2 years ago

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YALL I found my old diary from when I was 13 and I was NOT prepared for how much it swings between “pretentious wannabe Romantic poet” and “cripplingly self-aware middle schooler”

So right away this is hardcore. Comes with a warning that my ghost will haunt whoever reads it after my death.

“The account of Ocean Waves [for some reason, I was convinced I would be published under that name lol] ^ otherwise known by a less appealing name, is enclosed. Please do not read until you are sure my name is carved into a headstone. If I am killed for the sole purpose of reading this, however far-fetched that may seem, I will hunt you down.”

Happy reading,

- Ocean.

P.S.- You can, however, read this with permission. Good luck with that. Also, if you do decide to kill me, I would prefer a peaceful death. And by the way, I would prefer even more if you didn’t try to kill me. Oh, and if this is read while I’m still alive, I will still hunt you down.”

Already, you can see the makings of a future historian in the works.

“In this somewhat girly journal [it was Disney Princess themed] is the somewhat boring account of a 13-year-old girl. I, Sophia [last name], also known as Ocean Waves, am recording things in here in hopes of future discovery. As I will not share this to [sic] the outside world, I hope this journal will be preserved so that future civilization may find out about my time. However, as a writer and an artist, my goal is to be noticed, not especially famous.”

I give some hilarious takes here:

“I also have artist’s block. I tried drawing a picture earlier; but I didn’t feel like finishing it. I wonder if I’ll ever draw with a passion again.”

(No, younger me, you were just undiagnosed with ADHD.)

Notably, I don’t think I was the Medieval history expert I thought I was at the time:

“I don’t wish to have a boyfriend, and at 13, I don’t think I’m ready to. In the dark ages, girls my age would have already been grandmothers. I think that’s revolting.”

I get very pretentious about my English classes, although I have to say, I still agree with my criticisms of the school system.

“This is my own personal thought, and I prefer it not to be read, as I think differently at night. I think the school system does not have a very good idea of what language arts should be like. We spend hours picking apart and dissecting poems, like they are carcasses and we vultures. Poems aren’t made to be dissected, they’re made to be felt. And all we write are expository essays. Of course this is important, but there’s no way to express how we feel. After all, who decided to put “art” in “language arts” when there is no art to it at all; just mindless examining? I’m sorry for my rant [not sure why I keep apologizing to my private diary], but that’s what journals are for. Until tomorrow,

- Ocean”

I also write about my own art with self-loathing that would put a sexually-repressed 17th century Puritan to shame. You can see me dot my “i” with circles now because I saw a Buzzfeed video once that said people who do that are creative. And I get very passionate about Edgar Allan Poe for some reason:

“I experimented with my new copic markers today, and everyone who saw my drawings seemed to like them. I’m disgraced to say that I had a sense of overwhelming pride, but I’m not used to people noticing my art too often. In first period (aka so called “Language Arts”), we read “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe. Most people in the class didn’t seem to appreciate it, but I did. It tore open the hearts of both the reader + the main character, exposing his grief + longing towards Lenore, who [sic] he can never see again, so much that the stoic raven drives him to insanity and later, death. And to think that Poe got barely any recognition in his time! I’m not expecting much publicity from my books, but I do hope I’ll be able to write gripping + chilling stories like Poe did, without his own troubles (…)”

… In summary, I think 13 year old me would be very happy to know that in the years since, I majored in English, still draw, still single, and own a Poe anthology I bought while visiting the museum dedicated to him in Virginia.

#diary #my diary #childhood diary #edgar allan poe

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thisloveforyourmom · 1 year ago

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been reflecting on yuri plisetsky's role in yoi recently because on the surface it's kind of weird that he's one of the main characters....like victor and yuuri, clearly, but yuri's not just a main character, he's one of only three characters that get to be in the title sequence. there are several episodes he's just not even in. he's not the love interest or lead. why him specifically

and i think more and more the biggest theme of yoi is inspiration. yuri's initial role is to create conflict and make us really believe and understand that yuuri feels like the skating world has it out for him - that his competitors are cold, that he is taking up space in a major scene in which he doesn't belong.

and then...yuri plisetsky gets put on a narrative bus back to russia. why? because yuuri isn't ready to confront the true nature of their relationship. it's not time for that yet.

in early story, we see a lot of yuuri finding inspiration in the people around him. in victor most of all, because he's always found inspiration in victor, but in yuuko when he first performs stammi vicino, and in his family when he needs a reminder that he's valuable outside of skating, and in the love he's been shown from various sources all his life.

except...not various sources, exactly. sources that inspire him, but in a one sided way - sources he feels intrinsically lower than or, for lack of a better word, submissive to. older people. family. people with seniority. he sees that relationship as one-sided. victor inspires yuuri, but of course he does - victor is victor! but yuuri couldn't possibly inspire victor. yuuko inspires yuuri, but of course she does, she's kind, stable, successful, in a loving family. yuuri is just yuuri.

and that mindset is painted as something that affects mostly just yuuri. it poisons his relationships, but only because he can't see how kind and selfless and successful he really is, right?

well...no. because in the regionals, we meet minami kenjirou for the first time, and get to see a side of yuuri that even yuuri, with all his issues, isn't aware enough of to beat himself up for: his selfishness.

and it is selfishness. it's selfishness inspired by such cripplingly low self-esteem that he doesn't see how he could have an impact on other people, but still selfishness. and it's not really a red flag to yuuri - or to the audience, who sees things through his eyes - until victor gives him a wakeup call and gets genuinely upset with him for some of the things he's been saying and doing with the younger skaters. it's how insisting like he doesn't matter hurts more than just himself; it hurts everyone he's close to by invalidating everything they're trying to communicate to him.

it's an issue yuuri doesn't fully solve in the series (hello, being shocked that victor, his fiancee, cried when he said he wanted to end their relationship in episode 11). but it's the start of yuuri seeing for the first time that his responsibility to be kind to other people extends into and influences his responsibility to be kind to himself. and it begins here, with minami.

doesn't it?

well, no, actually. because later on we find out that yuri plisetsky was inspired by yuuri, too. that he thought his step sequences were amazing, and only followed him to - like yuuri did with victor at the banquet night - spend time with him. meet him. see what he was really like. and the angry, dismissive yuri we've seen thus far in the series isn't just teen angst, but another result of yuuri's improper understanding of his own position in skating. he's not jealous, he's disappointed, because he's the kind of skater who'd never give up, and hoped yuuri would be that person too. no matter how valid yuri's disappointment with yuuri is or isn't (and much of it isn't - but he's only fifteen, and he's going to have emotions that aren't as fair to other people as they ought to be), the fact remains that it was inspired by yuuri's behavior.

and does yuuri need to be an entirely different person because of yuri's expectations? no, of course not. yuri does have some unreasonable expectations for him, and they met at yuuri's lowest, in a mental state where his only priority could be himself. and growing past those expectations is yuri's character arc, as we see later on when he admits to himself that he wants to keep skating with and against yuuri even though yuuri still very much struggles with his mental state.

yoi as a whole is an exploration of inspiration, how it influences you, how it influences your loved ones, how important it is to nurture and respect and protect even in the smallest of ways. and victor and yuri are two sides of the same coin with regard to yuuri. victor is someone he's inspired by, yuri is someone he's inspired. yuuri's arc is learning to use that inspiration responsibly - not as a yoke to be feared or a standard of comparison, but as the precious gift that it is.

#yuuri on ice!!!#yuuri on ice #yuri katsuki #yuuri plisetsky

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joydivisi0n · 2 years ago

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what is it like to not be so cripplingly self aware?

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uwusillygirl · 2 years ago

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Ok feeling v validated at you posting a normal people gif bc it literally hit me when reading for service and devotion the other day (and then subsequently rereading a better taste as part of a "Chrissy's Boss Is A Dick" edit) that this Chrissy and Eddie give me BIG Marianne and Connell vibes with the way Chrissy's subservience could maybe be kinda dangerous (seems like a dramatic word but can't think of a better one) in the hands of someone who exploited it but with Eddie she's able to deal with it in a much more healthy way, and even though it's not something he really wants (although I think Eddie enjoys it considerably more than Connell did) he's happy to explore it for her. When the book first came out I remember having a discussion about whether Marianne and Connell actually make a "good" couple, whether we really want them to be together in the end, and a friend said he felt the relationship was good for Marianne but not for Connell and so ultimately didn't want them to stay together as it was kind of unfair on Connell, even if it was by far the best outcome for Marianne and the negative effect on Marianne from not being with Connell is much greater than the negative effect on Connell from being with her (I don't necessarily agree but I do get his). This series forms a nice little alternative to that in which their relationship genuinely feels like a positive for both Chrissy and Eddie and there's no real need for that debate.

Idk this is rambling and not super exciting but it just felt very nice to see that you are aware of normal people and maybe it was something that might have been playing on your mind subconsciously whilst you were developing this relationship so it wasn't so ridiculous for me to have drawn that parallel myself.

No need to respond, in fact the main thing I came here to say is that I'm really excited to see you on here. I never have anything particularly interesting to say on AO3 except that I love everything you've ever done but I do enjoy reading all the comments and the way the discussions you and others have enrich the characters so much - I'm hoping there will be more of that on here too!

"no need to respond" like i could ever possibly resist an ask as fucking JUICY as this... and i am LITERALLY in the midst of a normal people reread right now like this could not be more perfect.

okay so in terms of first one's free, normal people was absolutely sort of stewing in my brain subconsciously as i wrote it, but only because i'm like always thinking about it lmao. but EVENTUALLY it actually became sort of active when i started reflecting on that one line everyone screams about all the time the "sometimes i think god made you for me" bit and how it's like... is there ever a way for that to be a positive? like how are you not meant to mistreat someone custom made to your preferences? (so in short your parallel guess is like so right! though most everything i reblog on here and intend to reblog i think can be at least tonally tied to my writing lmao)

anyways so i tried to see how that would look like in a slightly less miserable way than normal people and how even if chrissy is like all american dream girl she's also like intense and often unwell enough that it takes effort on the part of eddie to like ... care for her (which connell, i would say, doesn't take with marianne because he's less self assured, so cripplingly afraid of other people's perceptions, and has a sort of irrational fear of catching marianne's "damagedness" like a flu).

it's extremely interesting the way we all sort of have different reads of normal people and who the relationship "works better" for/who would be ultimately happier in it (like it blows my actual mind that someone u know read it as "unfair" on connell more so than marianne like that actually fascinates me).

and it's also interesting that you mention the idea of like a "safe" space to explore inherent subservience, because "safe" means so many different things when it comes to that urge. i always am struck by the way that while they always have that sort of fucked power dynamic that turns her on, marianne's masochism, to me, only ever gets truly fulfilled with connell through their sort of fucked up pattern of him leaving her every once in a while/only wanting her for support and sex. it's like the purest form of masochism to her. and when they're relatively happy and she sort of wants him to handle it through more traditional bdsm routes (which i am so conflicted about the presentation of that in the book, but anyways. and yes eddie def enjoys all that way more lmao.) he sort of blanches and that's like "too much" for him but her groveling for him, claiming she just wants to make him happy, and all that less official but more soul-sucking subservience like really gets him off.

okay WOW so many thoughts, many of them self-indulgent, thank you SO much for reaching out! and thank you for the kind words about my stuff! i'm so happy to be here and chatting with some of u!

#ask #partial first one's free inspiration

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zkzm500a2 · 10 months ago

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feel like answering them but nobody ever asks so i'm going to pull a major funny and just answer them all here

1. yeah for the most part

2. my girlfriend

3. who doesn't

4. yes, not cripplingly so but definitely notably so

5. taken, i have a girlfriend who i love

6. gunshot to the head. 9x19mm or .45 caliber preferably

7. slice o pizza from my work

8. no, but when i was in high school i signed up for my school's CS:GO comp league and then never participated

9. not compulsively, but i do usually bite them off instead of clip them off

10. good question, probably back in elementary school. 4th or 5th grade

11. as in, do i have a crush on someone? or just a general positive opinion of someone? elementary school ass question. anyway i have a crush on my girlfriend whom i love

12. i've gone over 24, but never hit 48 (and don't plan to)

13. public figures yeah, but nobody i know personally

14. who doesn't

15. two cats :)

16. pretty neutral, not stoked about going back to work but definitely not bad

17. not yet, but i can see it happening

18. i mean i'm not arachnophobic but i think i have a normal human level of fear of spiders. i respect them and their space and go out of my way to avoid killing them

19. yes but only to shoot my past self in the head. oh and to see the Crab Nebula in person :)

20. my girlfriend's bedroom

21. work son!!! today's saturday and i have work tomorrow too

22. i've long said it depends on who i end up with

23. no i do not, i wouldn't be opposed to getting my ears pierced though

24. history and other social studies. i'm not a r/history guy but i've always liked it

25. isn't this also question 14?

26. some fuckin... gotdamn uhh... not much really

27. yeah

28. not that i'm aware of

29. yeah

30. my shoes!!! my work shoes fucking suck i'm getting new ones asap

31. yes. go ahead and guess who it is

32. yellow orange

33. nothing too extreme i don't think

34. hell if i know, i rarely remember my dreams. last one i remember involved a former coworker flirting with me and i was like "woah hey i have a girlfriend"

35. hard to remember. my mom, probably

36. i mean i give them out but only when reasonable to me. also i don't have such shitty friends that i need to give second chances

37. forget!!! i don't remember a goddamn thing

38. i mean statistically yeah but we're only six days in. 2023 was pretty solid for me though

39. Twenny

40. not completely naked but i have been in my backyard naked from the waist down before

51 (it jumps from 40 to 51 lmao). idk man i can't pick favorites. americans do be eating cheesed burger though

52. yeah but that reason isn't spiritual

53. drew a fake website named "i love you dot com" in ms paint and sent it to my girlfriend

54. i want to say no but my parents got together through cheating on their previous partners and they've been together the whole time. so like, in 99% of cases no

55. no i'm niceys :) i used to be a dick online but i've always actively tried to be nice in person

56. one guy, but at least twice

57. i mean i guess it depends on your definition of "true," but generally yeah

58. overcast and chilly is a go-to but i also love the sunny and chilly that comes after a storm in the winter or early spring

59. conceptually yes, but i would never want to drive in it

60. yeah

61. depends on the context of course but generally i'm into it

62. bideo games give me pleasure, but hanging out with my friends or my girlfriend makes me actually happy

63. i mean i'd prefer to keep my current name but in the event i had to, i have one in mind that i like

64. absolutely not, it's easy as hell

65. i'd be like "sorry i have a girlfriend. and you know this. she's all i talk about"

66. yeah

67. my girlfriend

68. how deep are we talking? probably my girlfriend though no matter how you define it

69. in a spiritual sense no, but it's still a helpful term

70. man i'd die for 20 bucks. but yeah there are several people i'd die for

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

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little-anxieties · 5 months ago

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#08: first year

It’s been more than a year since I received news of my acceptance into medical school, but the memory of it remains fresh and unsullied. What would have otherwise been an unremarkable walk back to my college dorm after flunking a Bio quiz was interrupted by vague congratulatory messages from friends, a sudden downpour, and my desperate attempt to get a good signal while running to the nearest waiting shed to shelter from the rain. Recalling it now, the moment had all the necessary ingredients for a dramatic core memory. It reminds me of a discussion we had in my undergrad Positive Psychology elective where we talked about “turning points” in life, i.e. those distinct moments of existential redirection. I couldn’t think of one single “turning point” in my life back then but this, getting into my dream medical school, certainly was one.

And now, a year later, I can finally say that I’ve completed my first year of med school. There’s no use to sugarcoating things—this has been the toughest year of my life. The impact of being catapulted into a largely unfamiliar field that demands rigorous training has only been partially cushioned by my being cognizant of the fact that this was never going to be an easy journey. I welcomed my new reality without resistance, well before I stepped foot in the halls of [redacted], for it was simply inseparable from my goal of becoming a physician.

But of course, awareness and anticipation has its limits. This, too, I knew. Nothing ever really prepares you for the long days and the long nights, the heaps and heaps of information that you need to understand and retain, the wide range of skills that you have to gain and sharpen like a mad blacksmith, all while you face endless battles with self-doubt and anxiety and the day-to-day feeling of being wrung dry.

Despite it all, however—and this was the greatest shock of all–I never felt lost. At least not for a prolonged period of time or cripplingly so. For most of my life, I had never really been sure of anything. I had trouble finding the path that was for me, always falling short of the notion that I wanted to be or to do this one particular thing. That was probably one of the reasons why I had so many hobbies. I was constantly looking for that thing called passion but it was always so elusive. It felt as if the peace of certainty was a luxury that I had no means to afford. So I made decisions based primarily on the looming ambivalence of my future and my own inability to feel sure about anything. This was the core of my biggest anxiety.

But in medical school, I felt a sense of direction, one that I had never experienced before. I felt like I belonged, that I was in the right place. The work was tough but never devoid of a sense of purpose. My future no longer looked blurry, like pictures shifting simultaneously at lightning speed, but rather, gained a resolution that was at once dizzying and sobering. I’m struggling to put into words the feeling that filled me up and fueled me during the toughest days, but it was a certainty that I’ve never felt before. Here, I was, finally, at a place where I felt like I was doing something that was meaningful to me. How fortunate I am to finally find my own little space in the world, to be where I am needed.

This, I realize, is the greatest gift I could give to my younger self. To her, I want to say: You no longer have to worry. Yes, this path is not easy. Your body and mind will grow weary. But, finally, your spirit can rest.

#reflection #medschool #studyblr

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