#does this go under my writing tag?

[23fallencomets]

me rn because i’m trying to write the dad!logan fic from way back when but i have writers block

[planandexecution]

sonic 4 having metal sonic + metal sonic debuting in sonic cd + sonic cd having time travel + leaked storyboard version of the ark blowing up in sonic 3 called space station time travel……. i don’t know what this means but some dots are connecting in some kind of way

[everybodyshusband]

this is technically a request fill for a couple of anons but turned into what's basically a vent fic, so i didn't feel comfortable wasting your requests on it. to those anons, your requests will be filled properly at some point, i promise.

cw for self-hatred, and desires of self-harm and suicidal thoughts while regressed. please also be aware that there is one line where rain considers killing an animal because he's so angry. this work is not suitable for regressed kiddos or littles.

but ! without further ado, 2.2k words of rain trying to hide his regression from dew and having a breakdown about it under the cut.

“Rain?”

The water ghoul looks up from his bass at the sound of Dewdrop’s voice, carefully schooling his expression into something typical of how he acts when he isn’t regressed; when he’s normal, his brain unhelpfully supplies. He clears his throat, giving himself a little more time to prepare himself for the conversation ahead. “Hey, sundew. What’s up?”

The words come out easier than he expected them to, but it still feels so wrong. He’s not supposed to talk like that, he’s not supposed to direct the conversation. He’s supposed to crawl into Dewdrop’s arms and let himself be held and loved, but he can’t. Can’t, because he has so much to do today. Has so many assigned duties on top of everything else he’s wanted to get done all week. He can’t focus on any of it if he’s regressed, so if he pretends to be fine—to be normal—then maybe he’ll be able to do what he needs to.

He’s jolted out of his head by Dewdrop’s voice. “Want a practice partner? I– I’m kinda struggling with some of the solos…”

The hesitation in the fire ghoul’s tone immediately sets Rain on edge. Dewdrop needs comforting, he thinks, but that’s not something the water ghoul is able to do when he’s regressed; not well, at least. Still, Rain tries. He smiles what he hopes is a regular, reassuring smile and reaches an arm out, ushering Dewdrop to sit down next to him. The gestures come to him easily. It’s a relief, but he can’t help the small voice in the back of his mind telling him the reason he’s able to pretend to be normal is because he pretends to be regressed.

(Which isn’t true. He knows it’s not. It’s proven by night curled up in Swiss’ arms, unable to murmur even a single word because he’s just too small to do anything else. By all the times he hasn’t been able to function without someone holding his hand, guiding him through the day. Alas, it’s never been something he can stop thinking. That he’s a fraud; so desperate for the attention of his packmates that he’s resorted to lying, deceiving them, in order to gain a shred of affection, a kind word here and there.)

The fire ghoul grins happily and sets himself up quickly, eyeing the music on Rain’s stand to gauge where he should flip to in his own music. “Rats, eh?”

“Mhmm, wa– Rats.” He turns away from Dewdrop, cheeks burning as he clears his throat and attempts to brush the slip off as something catching in his throat. “Good bassline. Hard when you haven’t played it in months, though.”

Dewdrop hums in agreement. “Mmm, I can imagine.” He fidgets with the tuning pegs, tilting his head in Rain’s direction, silently asking for a note to match. Rain obliges. “D’you wanna start from the start, or…?”

“Start’s fine,” Rain smiles. He knows the start best, he’ll be able to do it, he’s sure. He can ignore the brain fog. He can pretend. For Dewdrop, he can pretend. The fire ghoul seemed insecure and burdened enough when he asked to run through the solos. He doesn’t need Rain’s regressed headspace making anything more difficult for him. “Uhm…” he begins, unsure; failing already. “B– Backing track?” He stutters on the B and the K is over pronounced in compensation of his difficulty with the letter, but Dewdrop understands—and more importantly, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“I think we’ll be fine, right, Rainy?” He turns to smile at the water ghoul, eyes so soft and gentle, but there’s something underneath his tone that makes Rain fumble his bass.

“W– Why are you calling me ‘Rainy’ like that? You only say it like that when I’m… small.”

Dewdrop’s smile falters slightly, but his eyes remain warm. Kind. “Well, you can tell me if I’m wrong, but I thought you might’ve been feeling a bit small, love. Am I right?”

Rain readjusts his bass on his hip, refusing to meet Dewdrop’s eyes. “N– No… I– I feel fine,” he lies. “Normal. ‘M good. Promise.” He knows Dewdrop doesn’t believe him, but he can’t help but hope that maybe he’s convinced the fire ghoul. After all, Dewdrop has things to do today as well. He can’t blow off a whole day just to help Rain. Rain can’t ask him to do that.

“Are you sure, puddle? You’re not just telling me that because you feel bad about being small?”

“...Oh. Uhm… N– No?” Rain does his best to sound convincing but he knows there’s no persuading Dewdrop now, not when he already knows.

Dewdrop fixes him with a look, still adoring, but stern. “It’s not nice to lie, my love.”

And just like that, Rain’s facade crumbles.

His eyes fill with tears as he curls in on himself, hugging his bass tightly to his body. “I– I’m sorry, Dewy,” he cries. “I– I didn’ mean to! I’m sorry sorry, I’m really, very sorry. I didn’ mean to lie, ‘m sorry!”

He rocks back and forth, doing his best to self-soothe but it’s not working. He doesn’t know how to calm down. Doesn’t really know why his reaction to Dewdrop’s gentle chiding is a breakdown. He knows the fire ghoul was only trying to nudge him out of his pretences but he can’t help but listen to the voice in his head that whispers softly, cruelly.

He hates you for lying to him. He’s never going to talk to you again.

You got too comfortable with him. Shared too much. He doesn’t want to take care of you. He only does it to have an excuse to tell you what you’re doing wrong.

Such a burden to him. To the pack. Why can’t you just stop regressing? Just stop it. Stop being so small. Stop being so fucking weak.

He lets out a panicked yelp when Dewdrop reaches out to comfort him. “Nuh uh! Don’t touch me. I– I don’ deserve it.”

“Wh–” Dewdrop flounders.

That means it’s true; Rain doesn’t deserve it. He curls in on himself even further; he shouldn’t have said anything. Should have kept it to himself. Should have left the room the second Dewdrop entered it. Should have thought about someone other than himself and his own pathetic, useless needs for once.

“What makes you think that, Rainy?”

“Liar get punish,” he parrots as accurately as he can manage. “Only good boy get to be touch.”

“Oh, love…” Dewdrop sounds so disappointed. Rain braces himself for the inevitable. “That’s our rule for when you’re big and we, uhh…” He trails off, clearly unsure of how to phrase what he needs to say. Rain wishes he could rid the fog from his head enough to be able to reassure Dewdrop that he’s okay; it was just a slip of his mouth that made him say that, it’s not what he really thinks. But if he says that, it’s only fuelling the fire, and he’ll be punished more for lying; he’ll punish himself for lying. “Look, Rainy, love,” the fire ghoul tries again. “My point is that those rules don’t apply to you right now. They’re only there for when you’re big and we have our… Our special playtimes, yeah?” Dewdrop cringes at the words special playtimes and Rain knows exactly why; the phrase sounds so forced. He hates that Dewdrop feels the need to mince his words around Rain when he’s like this, as if the water ghoul doesn’t retain his understanding of the world and his own life when he regresses.

“You– You don’ like special playtime?” Rain’s goading Dewdrop into giving him an answer that he’ll hate, that will make him feel worse, he knows he is. But as long as the fire ghoul doesn’t notice, Rain doesn’t care. He deserves to feel bad, he knows that much. But he doesn’t feel bad enough, and it’s going to be hard to sink himself down to the level of bad that he deserves with Dewdrop watching his every move.

“No, no, Rainy,” he disagrees quickly. Too quickly, Rain thinks. “I love our special playtimes. I love them a lot, I promise. But… I don’t think this is something we should be talking about when you’re little, okay? We can talk about it when you’re big again if you want to, though.”

“O– Okay…” Rain’s heart sinks. It’s always like this. The very nature of their ghoul pack results in him being left out of most things when he’s little. Sometimes he doesn’t mind, and he’s more than content to sit with one of his packmates and fill some colouring sheets with bright pencil markings or curl up in their arms and drift off to sleep. But other times? His pack’s refusal to include him in certain activities or conversations feels less like protection and more like a poor disguise of their hatred of him, of their unwillingness to involve him in pack affairs. He understands, really, he does. He knows that when he’s regressed, there are things he shouldn’t be exposed to. Knows that when his pack are frustrated with him, he’s rarely the one at fault, just the one unlucky enough to bear the brunt of their frustration, no matter how much they try to hide it for his sake. But he also knows that the pack’s exclusion of him is because they don’t like him. Don’t enjoy his presence in any of the forms it takes. Don’t care about him enough to hide their annoyance, despite knowing their frustration directed at him can cause him to spiral so intensely that he barely remembers the rest of the day. He knows all of this, but nothing makes it hurt any less.

If he were in a better state of mind, he might reach out to Dewdrop and ask to be held for a while. Might sob and scream and cry until there aren’t any tears left but it would be okay, because he’d be safe in the fire ghoul’s arms. As it is, he can’t. He tells himself he doesn’t want to, which is true, in part. There’s a part of him desperately fighting to run away from Dewdrop, to refuse to ask for comfort, to never be a burden, never show weakness because otherwise he won’t love you anymore and you’ll be all alone all over again. The other part longs for comfort, regardless of the negative impact he knows it will have on his relationship with Dewdrop. He wants to be held, wants to be reassured that it’s okay to cry, that it’s okay because Dewdrop’s got him and he’s never letting go, never leaving. And so, he finds himself at an impasse and so angry at himself that he wants to punch something. Scream. Break his arm. Kill one of Copia’s rats. Kill himself.

The only benefit to being regressed that he can think of right now is that if he screams, no one bats an eye; all too accustomed to toddlers throwing tantrums that they don’t seem to care. And so when Dewdrop tentatively reaches an arm out, testing the waters to see whether Rain is ready for touch, the water ghoul screams. And he does it properly.

He doesn’t know how long he screams for before stopping, but once he stops, his throat is raw and aching in the silence of the room. He’s curled in on himself on the floor—bass discarded somewhere off to the side, hopefully in one piece—surrounded by pleasant warmth and pressure. Slowly, he realises that he’s wrapped up in Dewdrop’s embrace, and he begins to panic all over again, throat refusing to make another sound dispute his frantic attempts.

A warm hand cards through his hair, soft voice shushing him gently. “If you really want me to let go, Rainy, I will,” Dewdrop reassures him. “But I don’t want to let go, love. I want to help you, and I don’t want to leave you alone like this, okay?”

Rain turns his head and buries himself against Dewdrop’s chest, sobbing quietly. His emotional regulation for the day has been used up, and he knows that any and all emotions he feels for the rest of the day—or week, probably—will be on full display for everyone to see, no matter how much he wants to hide them. He finds himself nodding along to the fire ghoul’s words without his own brain’s permission. It’s impossible to deny for any longer that he wants comfort—he needs it so desperately it may as well be oxygen at this point—but he can’t bring himself to ask for it. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, and he knows that he’ll only feel worse later as a result of talking to Dewdrop and receiving his love and affections, but for now, that’s a problem for future Rain. Right now, all he really cares about is curling up in Dewdrop’s arms and soaking in the gentle comfort that the fire ghoul seems to be so good at providing him when he’s like this.

He doesn’t feel better about it, and he knows he’s not going to. To be honest, he doesn’t even want to try to feel better about it. But now that he’s here, he’ll accept the comfort of gentle caresses and chaste forehead kisses that Dewdrop seems intent on gifting to him. He’ll work on not feeling even worse about the fire ghoul’s affections another time.

[krikeymate]

I'm actually in love with the Billy kidnapps baby Sam and Tara AU.

How would Sam and Tara's personality change by growing up with Billy? Is he still ghostfacing? Is he still obsess over Sydney? Is Stu or Mrs Loomis still alive?!

I think things mostly go pretty much the same as canon (1-4), only that Billy never got shot in the head, he managed to escape.

Mrs Loomis wants revenge on Sidney not for killing her boy, but for ruining his life and his reputation because now he's on the run. Maybe Sidney spent all that time thinking maybe he had just died in a ditch somewhere, forgotten and unfound, but now she's got confirmation that Billy's alive, and that's what forces her into the isolation we see in 3. Maybe Roman even knows, maybe he gives Sidney a snide Billy sends his regards. Maybe when the Ghostface attacks happen in 4, she's convinced it's Billy.

Billy takes a long time to heal, alone in some abandoned shack on the outskirts of Woodsboro, hidden in the trees on long-abandoned land. He reaches out to his mother, he reaches out to his father, he reaches out to Roman. Only one of them responds, only one of them helps him. He's been abandoned by his family, but Roman was abandoned by his too, he understands him, he helps Billy get back on his feet. He even becomes like a brother to him. It just gives Roman more fuel to his hatred of Sidney Prescott.

Billy meanwhile, he's kind of tired. His body heals, but his mind stays tired, especially after Roman's death. He didn't feel better for killing Maureen, his family still stayed broken. He didn't feel better for any of those he killed, just angrier and angrier. Stu, his mother, the lunatic she hired, now Roman... it's very sexy of her, he thinks, but he's not going after Sidney Prescott again. He's no desire to get himself killed, and he's not an idiot, the odds are stacked against him. She's got a death count as high as his.

Roman names Samuel Carpenter, the man who is like a brother to me, in his will. With cropped hair dyed black and a beard, he's unrecognisable. He begins life again. One day he's bored and goes looking through the abandoned contents of what remains of Roman's effects. He finds a box of files, Roman's research. He skims through it all, feeling something like nostalgia. Inside, he finds a birth certificate for one Samantha Carpenter born May 1997 to Christina Carpenter. It feels like fate.

Billy's hardly some upstanding moral man now, he has no problem with killing, and enjoys it. But he's not going out of his way to do it. He's worked too hard to forge a new identity, he's not going to put himself at risk. Not now there's no one left to help him pick himself back up.

So, anyway, this AU has two paths. There's 'Uncle Sam' path, or there's Billy takes the girls' path. I'm leaning towards Uncle Sam path being the better one, but let's take a look at the other one.

Billy tells Christina to sit down. It's authoritative. He leans back and makes himself comfortable on the couch as Christina perches herself on the armchair, Sam, frowning, hovering beside her, glancing between her mother, her sister, and the intruder. He observes them, watches as Christina slaps away Samantha's hand as she tries to take the fussing baby back. He laughs and tells the woman to give the girl the baby. It wasn't a suggestion, and the deer-in-headlights look she shoots him reveals she knows it. She hands it over. The baby stops fussing, and his daughter softens. He pats the couch beside him, telling Samantha to come here. She sends a nervous look to her mother, and she gives a stilted nod. He pulls the girl into his side, wrapping an arm around her, and tells Christina to tell their daughter the truth. She shakes her head, and begs him no, but he tuts at her, unamused. Tell her the truth, or I will… and you won’t like the way I will. So, Christina reveals the truth, that her father isn’t her father. Billy makes Sam go upstairs, tells her to pack a bag for herself… and her sister. Christina leaps up at that, gets angry, tells him that he can’t just take her. He asks her what kind of loving mother leaves a baby home alone. He sees the way Sam curls herself further around the baby as he speaks the words. Samantha is my daughter, she continues, and oh, it hits him, she wasn’t even talking about the baby. If he hadn’t have already made up his mind, he would have made it then. He tells Sam to go upstairs once again, and this time she does, leaving her mother to argue with the man who calls himself her father. She’s scared and confused and crawls into her bed with her sister, taking comfort in the way she doesn’t understand anything that’s going on around her, just happy to be with Sam. Billy comes upstairs a little while later, smiling. He smells kind of funny now, and there’s red on his t-shirt, was it red before? Together they pack. He puts it all on the backseat of her mother’s car, and has her sit in the front with her sister on her lap. He drives them away.

Wildly enough, this is actually one of the most well-adjusted timelines that Sam & Tara can have, as I've decided Billy isn't just going around Ghostfacing up the place. Sam will still have a bit of a breakdown at the realisation of who her father is- was at some point (the news surrounding the 2011 attacks), but she's had years with this man, seen who he is with her own eyes, seen how he is with her sister. She struggles to merge the two men in her head. Tara gets a well-adjusted and stable childhood where she's cared for.

Billy's definitely a no judgement kinda parent, who encourages anger and retaliation and smart thinking. He's not the type to encourage them to hurt others, but he will certainly provide advice and help, and he doesn't not encourage it either. Just reminds his girls not to draw attention to themselves. Sam still ends up mostly raising her sister because Billy knows shit all about kids, but he does patiently listen and take instruction from Sam on how to do things, so it's not like a total lost cause.

Tara never knows any parent other than her father (as Sam), and knows nothing of the mother than abandoned them. She doesn't know about Billy, until...

One day, Tara is home alone when someone in a Ghostface mask breaks in and nearly kills her. Someone knows the truth about Billy.

[storiesofaot]

Gee, it seems that I was having a lot of trust in myself a few days ago. What do you mean, "idk I'll figure it out ", my dear past self? 👀 I still don't know... 🤓

[littlestsnicket]

eeee!!

[lousylemonseminar]

Gawwshhhh darrnit I had this post about

IM NEVER GONNA COOK LIKE THAT AGAIN it like left my mind as soon as I had it written down And it’s not loading in But I had this post about how

Wild comparison but how suckenings Edward and Jimmy mouthwasher fuck are both these derrangged egoists

How they both thinnk theyre so untouchable And Individual in this. Corrupt mind boggling way

I NEED IT TO LOAD IN CAUSE I FONT THINK I CAN PHRASE IT AS GOOD AS I DID

Like how did you get that perception of yourself Do you care if that’s the reality? If anyone outside of your delusions think You’re A Hero or Your

I don’t even actually really know what Edward’s deal is Handsome???? (He’s kind of just a man baby but they both are I think it’d be easier to understand how Jimmy would inadvertently perceive himself Despite that being what he’s trying to prove throughout the entirety of mouthwashing)

And if so Then Why are you going so desperately to prove it by harming and violating literally everyone else?

It’s so

Fascinating to study villains I guess in these instances And to understand how they get to making irl fortnite like WHAT ARE YOU DOING (documenting its process)

They’re trying so hard to prove these grandiose versions of themselves, never realizing that they are The Only People they’ll ever prove that to

How both of them started at such a bottom feeder level Taking shortcuts to get someone anyone to think theyre more than they actually are But they’ll never be more Because theyre focusing on the wrong thing!!

They’re trying to get people to see them as this omnipotent god when all they’ll ever be is people!!!

The control they try fastening into anyone they have this Deluded sense of power over or “is the weakest” is like….. So abjectly incomprehensible and pathetically cruel

I NEED to understand how they get the notion they can do whatever they want and crash the space ship to avoid consequences…….

[ian-galagher]

HORROR MOVIE WRITING CHALLENGE

Thank you for tagging me! 🥰🧡 Nosho @creepkinginc Julia @juliakayyy Evie @energievie and Auds @auds-and-evens

Not tagging anyone cause I'm super late and I don't know if people like horror or not, but if you see this and want to do it, please do! It's super fun!

@michellemisfit 😁you might like this 😁

Rules: use this quiz to find out what role you'd play in a traditional horror movie group, then write a drabble about a character of your choice in that role!

I got.... 😁

the comic relief you're the jokester, the prankster, the funny little guy who has the meta quips to ease some of that delicious tension the narrative's been building. you're there to lure the audience into a false sense of security so they don't see the next gruesome kill coming. you're probably pathetic and weird but your friends love you. unfortunately, you probably die in the end or you fake everyone out only to die for real in the sequel.

That's me! 😂

~

He was in real trouble now.

Ian couldn't possibly sink further into the wall but even if he could, would it have done anything to stop the vampire currently leaning over him?

He'd close his eyes to avoid having to watch his own demise but damn it if this wasn't the sexiest vampire he'd ever seen.

Just his luck, getting a boner as he was about to get killed.

Blue Eyes got frustrated when Ian didn't seem as scared as he clearly expected him to be.

"The fuck's the matter with you?" he barked, his fangs shimmering in the moonlight.

"Nothing, please proceed," Ian said, craning his neck to give Blue Eyes better access.

The pressure increased when the vampire leaned in closer but nothing happened.

What was he waiting for?

"Do you need me in another position?" Ian asked, though he was unable to move with the vampire keeping him pinned to the wall. "I can turn around if you prefer to take me from behind."

"No thanks," Blue Eyes said, quirking an eyebrow. "You gonna offer me some napkins next?"

"Would you like some?" Ian asked, thinking of the diner he'd past by earlier. It looked like they did good burgers in that place.

"You carry napkins on you?"

"No, but I do have some condoms on me, actually."

"Oh, so that what's in your pockets," the vampire said, his eyes moving down. "I was wondering what that bulge was. Seemed too big to just be your cock."

"The condoms are in my back pocket."

"Oh." The vampire seemed to rethink his decision to have Ian as a starter tonight. "How about you invite me back to yours and you show me everything you've got hidden away in those pockets, huh?"

"Deal," Ian said, happy to fuck his way out of a sticky situation. "And maybe I can be the vampire and you be my victim?"

"Only if when you bite me, you do it from behind, fire crotch."

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

[transmiqote]

it’s been over a year & a half since endwalker but the in from the cold quest is still living in my mind rent free

[seventh-district]

wow!!! nothing better than watching your AO3 subscribers stat go down every time you post a new chapter of your current fic!!!

[highlifeboat]

No thoughts only under appreciated OC Elizabeta

[boomingsmile]

who gave sharp the audacity to be so kind, loving, sweetest person. D:< no amount of words i can put up will ever be able to contain the vibe he has; i desperately need a drink with him and i dont even drink and he doesn't even exist!

[catlokis-blog]

When Bubby accepted the position of "The GMan's Boyfriend", he had honestly expected it to be... Different.

The GMan seemed like and worked hard for his appearance to be closed off and withdrawn. Bubby was prepared for the distance, the averseness to touch the government man seemed to have, and the silence.

Though, he got neither of those things. The opposite, if you could believe it.

Here Bubby was, dangerously close to missing an important meeting Black Mesa had warned him about, and GMan was going to be the reason for it. He almost couldn't believe how ridiculous the situation was getting to be. Bubby huffed as the GMan held his wrists in his grasp, the man bending over ever so slightly to peer down at his partner, curious grin lacing his face. "Why the... Rush?" The GMan hummed, as if seriously pondering said question.

He got an unhappy eye roll in return. "Really, GMan?" Bubby scoffed. "I have a meeting. I know you're feeling extra handsy today, but can't it wait? Or better yet -- use that freaky time stop ability of yours!" Bubby tried yanking his hands out of GMans grasp to no avail. "Mmmm... I would, but, you see- They would... know if I was to use it, too often." A wicked smile replaced his previous grin. "And I know you enjoy this, just as much as I do."

Bubby gulped audibly.

"Oh, you rat bastard." He growled, and GMan chuckled almost breathlessly as he pressed a kiss to Bubby's temple. "Although, if I am bothering you... That much... I can take my leave, then." Bubby almost thanked the Lord as GMan backed off, letting go of his wrists in the process. Instead, GMan caressed Bubby's face with one hand, drawing his thumb across the underside of Bubby's glasses, and Bubby had to fight to stop himself from leaning into the touch. "Enjoy your meeting, hm?"

And just like that, GMan was gone.

Bubby set to work on adjusting his tie, glancing at the clock to see he only had a couple minutes to race down to the other sector, but couldn't start his journey as he felt a cold gust of wind from behind, instinctively shivering. He felt the impression of lips ghosting kisses over his neck, the feeling all too familiar. There was a whisper right in his ear, as if the man was leaning over him again as Bubby cursed GMan's name (that rat fuck), cursed Black Mesa, cursed whatever could come to mind --

"This is not over. Find me, after your shift."

[trashbaget]

temptation tuesday ✨

indirectly tagged by somebody out there for sure :D

i’ve been trying to get back into fanboy, and hopefully start up a more consistent writing/posting groove (definitely planning to finish up ch3 AND write ch4 before i post ch3 tho!!) but here are some other projects that have been Looking At Me

(some) 911 wips (of many) that have me by the throat:

driving west at sunset — a sweet little one shot where eddie and buck are on a drive back to california after helping abuela move back to the texas. partly inspired by the now ancient buddie bingo 2022 bingo prompt “overheard love confession” the two hear all manner of declarations on the road, prompting them to reminisce about the times they too have told someone they were in love

the elasticity of denim — another one shot partly inspired from a bb22 prompt, this one is enclosed space BUT with a twist because they are stuck on top of a rollercoaster in the middle of an accidental date wherein somebody admits to to their attraction just before the coaster is supposed to go down—but doesn’t. also the theme park’s probably cowboy themed

the universe does not scream — an idea a long time coming, the universe herself plays matchmaker and keeps a diary of all the times those two foolfighters firefighters keep ignoring her calls. (this one requires an extensive rewatch in which i take active notes of every relatable quote and moment, which the recent group rewatch has been actively reminding me of)

non-911 wips that have been staring me in the face:

south side (stupid) musical — this playlist is nearing 6 hours long already and i have yet to write more than one episodic intro and one dickensian opening line BUT i cannot stop thinking about it because it is ridiculous and campy and i love it. set between s10&s11 (i think), the gallaghers and company stumble upon a cursed karaoke machine which forces them to burst into song at random moments…….also some weirdos are putting on bootleg high school musical show at a local theatre that they get swept up in.

charlie dalton’s rules for a successful hookup — i recently uncovered the notebook i spent an entire week in december 2020 furiously plotting this and fell in love with it all over again so i would LOVE to get to this at some point. a university au—bc there is no more perfect au for dead poets society imho—wherein charlie writes a list of rules for himself so he can hookup in college without getting his heart broken (again)

i am so far out of every loop that idk who i interact with that makes things anymore lmao so let me know and i’ll tag you in any future ones i do lol also @enbyeddiediaz hi lizard emojis

[mangled-by-disuse]

I have such mixed feelings about the love languages thing specifically, because, like, gary chapman fucking sucks and there's no scientific validity to his work BUT

at the same time, i do think there's some value in recognising and discussing the fact that different people need different expressions of love in different amounts? Especially in relationships.

Like, I have just recently been having a discussion with my partner about how he really doesn't tend to express his affection through gifts, whereas (as someone who is mega-bad at expressing sincere feeling) I do rely heavily on giving gifts and doing things for people as a less scary way to express love. Joe doesn't like giving gifts, because he's scared he'll do it wrong, and is only so-so on receiving them. He prefers to express love through physical contact and saying nice things. I hate having nice things said to me unless I am allowed to immediately rebut them with a joke or sarcastic comment that makes them less scarily close to emotional honesty. too many words of affirmation and i will genuinely just start avoiding you because it is painfully awkward to me.

and none of that means we are fundamentally different categories of people, which is where the 5 Love Languages stuff falls into being absolute bollocks. but I have seen, and done, enough throwing the baby out with the bathwater on that to be a little defensive - I think reasonable applications of the concept are actually really quite valuable. and for me, the taxonomy Chapman suggests (words of affirmation, quality time, gifts, acts of service, physical touch) while not at all exhaustive or thorough, is a useful framework to hang those conversations on. bc, like, no, the way people communicate and receive affection is not universal, and from personal experience, assuming that it is can have really significant problems for a relationship.

...you could argue that this is parallel to BMI in terms of "tools being used in totally not the way they should be used" though, tbf.

I can't keep having the same conversations about love languages, mbti, iq, bmi, "brain fully formed at 25" and shit over and over again...

[late-stage-lesbian]

Sorry if this is overstepping or anything but I saw your question in the tags of a post(the one about white people and reblogging poc posts) and I wanted to give my 2 cents ok it if that's ok(sorry again if it's rude)

So while it is appreciated that you do agree with OP and are adding something to the conversation, most times serious posts about racism are meant to serve as a beacon for poc, to bring attention to issues that were facing or that white people may be causing. By adding a white voice in there, even if it's agreeing it does take away some focus from the poc perspective on the issue in favor of a white person's perspective. It's unfortunate, and sometimes you can bring up a good point or raise awareness, but usually it's a good idea to do so on a separate post, or a post designated for both poc and white perspectives rather than a post made for poc experiences.

Sorry a final time, I hope this made sense? Either way ur question is valid and I hope this was at least kinda helpful!

This makes sense, and I really appreciate your taking the time to explain your perspective. Please don’t apologize for engaging in a productive discussion with me, I’m really just surprised that anyone read the tags at all 😂

I guess my question really should have been more focused on whether or not this still holds true if the commentary is in the tags of the post, because I always perceive the tags of a post as separate to the post itself. Like I treat tags like I might treat annotating a text - I’m drawing connections or notating where my personal experiences line up with what’s in the post. It’s almost like I’m talking to myself, and people can read them if they want but they also aren’t meant to be for anyone as much as they are meant for me to kind of process what I was reading and sometimes to signal to the OP that I was listening. And I put that in the tags specifically so that it doesn’t have to travel with the post if it ever gets reblogged from me.

But it occurred to me while reading the original post that I might be treating tags very differently than other people, and I wasn’t sure how that matched up with the post. And I don’t know how much of that is just my Autism manifesting in a way where I have misinterpreted the way this tool is meant to be used, or how much of this is my AuDHD having to process all of my thoughts to other people in order for me to understand them, or how much of this is just internalized white supremacy culture making me think I’m entitled to a part of the discussion.

TLDR; Do other people consider tags to be a part of the conversation? Or do other people consider tags to be independent of the conversation unless otherwise stated (like with ‘prev tags’ descriptors)? Or is there some other third thing?