#getting real social burnout honestly

[shinkei-shinto]

hi little vent

I'm tired of being ghosted. I'm tired of being lied to. I am so, so so tired of the endling showing and god, but does it hurt.

I do art for a living. I have never lied to a client to cover my ass bc I forgot or ADHD'd something or memory problems or overwhelmed. Apologize and make it right.

tried to commission someone else. caught them in a lie. asked for the truth in the future or a refund.

got the refund.

they would rather refund me than tell me the truth in future interactions.

woke up today. okay. too early. did some social media scroll.

and again and again and again seeing some fucking post talking about how the thing that is me is wrong. or bad. or not actually that oppressed. or whatever. I try to flick faster when I realize what I'm reading so I don't remember examples.

I do remember that it happened four times. just in clearing Tumblr today.

again and again.

one of my clients chose to "request" more work. when they were told that they should pay me by others. when they were made extremely aware that I intended to charge for further work (as if, live on stream, designing an entire new look for a character and drawing an entire fully colored piece with background elements, for a paltry fucking ~60 dollars, wasn't fucking enough)

and when I made a nice public post about how this service they were demanding would cost money bc I'm not a machine I'm a fucking person and I deserve that?

"oh nope can't afford it maybe next time"

can't even fucking respect me. can't even fucking treat me like I'm worth anything.

again and again and again. just. completely worthless to the entire social circles I reside in, right now.

and on the other side of the country

and in my partner/owner/love's house

I hear them call me 'pet' to someone who I thought had been preventing that from being used freely in their house

I see them later tell me that's okay now

later, more

I get to be the thing that I am and people like me for it. not just tolerate. not slide their eyes over it uncomfortably and refuse to engage.

not treating me like a machine that makes things for them, not treating me like a thing that doesn't even deserve the barest minimum of respect - not fucking being lied to -

hard to want to get up and go to work when I know how I'll be treated. hard to get up and pull the hoodie of humanity over my head, cast my face in shadow, so none of them have to see it.

12 days until maybe, a break.

[queer-as-used-by-tolkien]

A lot of things come naturally to me that I often downplay or don't discuss because it feels like bragging.

For example, spelling, grammar, and formatting are no trouble at all. My first drafts are in perfect sentences, paragraphs, perfectly punctuated, everything. I didn't have to 'learn' the rules for formatting chapters, etc. or how to italicize direct thoughts. I absorbed it all by osmosis from my voracious reading in early life. Most of what I've written I've done without even touching a grammar textbook.

It sometimes surprises me how bad people can be at spelling and grammar because I'm not aware of how hard it is for most people. I just read so much, so widely when I was younger that the many, many, many examples of how a word was spelled or how sentences were structured just - sank into my brain.

And also, I write down EVERYTHING how I want it to be, right off. It's not hard for me. It's not that I have the full scene in my head and I struggle to put it on paper - it's more that it only truly happens once it's on paper. I'm sitting here writing and I won't know what's going to happen more than two lines of dialogue from now (although of course I have a vague and far-off target I'm aiming for) and then I do another line and the next line comes into view and I'm shocked but SO smugly pleased with myself because it's an AMAZING line and sets up this that and the other down the road. It just came to me. And now it's in the story. Just like that. Two hours later I'm posting the finished chapter.

I didn't even know all this was weird until I actually started getting online. In fact, it made me feel self-conscious and like I couldn't relate to other writers because I never had the same struggles they did. I didn't even struggle with writer's block. I'd see things like 'you are not a real writer until X' and I'd never experienced X? Yet I'd posted four full-length novels on FFN in the space of a year?

But I'll tell you what I'm absolutely ABYSMAL at. Physical descriptions, setting the scene/stage/etc, and of course, worldbuilding (both in my head and weaving it into the story), since I'm scarily new to non-fanfic and have always assumed my readers knew the world of the fanfic they were reading. Character description especially is problematic since I don't visualize characters in my head unless they're making an expression. I just know where they're standing. It's fog-of-war in my head when reading or writing.

Patricia C. Wrede talks about how writers get certain skills “for free”. Certain techniques or elements of writing that come naturally to them, so they don’t have to think about them too much during the process. It can be a skill that doesn’t feel like a skill because you’ve never had to consciously develop it, or it can be a learned skill you’ve internalized so well that your writing process naturally flows along those lines.

Anyway, it’s got me wondering what, if anything, I get “for free”?

Some possibilities:

A semi-detached third-person-limited viewpoint. Something that lets me get inside a character’s head while remaining just far enough outside them to have a separate narrator voice.

Banter

The sound of prose. I’m very audio-oriented, and so I don’t tend to write things that are difficult to read aloud. My initial drafts might be clunky and wordy, but I can usually edit it down into something that flows.

Worldbuilding without info-dumping. Knowing how to weave in the info at the point we need to know it.

Ideas

These are very specific things. There are a lot of important things that I really have to work for. But it’s nice to consider that there are some aspects of writing that come naturally and help shape the kind of writer that I am.

[bullet-prooflove]

TheStudy! Series Part Three: Deserving - Dean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @helsinkibaby @hufflepuffgirl @mimi-8793

The Study:

Part One: Courting Disaster - Dean realises Jack is courting you.

Part Two: Distance - Dean tries to discuss the distance between the two of you.

At events like the drinks reception with the Board, you’re a show pony. Someone to parade around who can talk the talk and walk the walk.

You’re the Crockett Marcel of the Medical Examiners Service, Jack Dayton’s newest project.

You hate every second of it but the study it’s important, it’s making a real difference in people’s lives. You’ve seen what happens when people don’t get the closure they need, they end up on your table, just like their loved ones before them.

It’s past eleven by the time the reception begins to wind down, you’re tired emotionally, physically. You miss the evenings where you could curl up with Dean on the couch, dressed in nothing but his old Navy t-shirt as his fingers combed lightly through your hair.

You miss your husband a lot actually, the emotional intimacy, the physical aspect. It feels like you’ve barely been in his presence at all over the last few months. You know that’s down to you, this study and everything that comes with it. It steals away your time, your energy and if you let it, it’ll steal away your marriage..

“I’m starting to feel more like your roommate than your husband and I think that’s something we need to talk about.”

He isn’t wrong, he’s supported you throughout the duration of this study and you can barely spare him five minutes. You can’t imagine how much that must hurt because Dean, he’s always made time for you.

You’re staring out of the window when Jack approaches you. The other board members have filtered out of the conference room, there’s just the two of you standing in the dim lighting, surveying the twinkling skyline.

“I need to take a step back.” You say quietly. “Slow down a little, all of this it’s too much.”

“Too much for you or too much for Dean?” He asks and you can hear the distain in his voice.

“For the both of us.” You assert firmly because it’s not just your marriage on the line. It’s your mental health too, your facing burnout. You can feel yourself hurtling towards it because the workload, it’s too much. “I have someone who can help pick up the slack. Her name is Anita Lanik, I can go through her details with you tomorrow. She used to work with social services. She specialised in palliative care advocating for the elderly so she has experience and insight into the challenges we’re facing.”

There’s silence for a moment and in the reflection of the window you see Jack’s jaw clench.

“I don’t understand why you’re with him.” Jack says quietly as he tilts his head towards you. “All he does is hold you back.”

You can understand Jack’s point of view. He envisions himself as a white knight, plucking you from obscurity, elevating you. To him Dean is just a weight around you’re neck, preventing you from putting in more hours, more of your life into the program.

“You don’t know him, you don’t know us.” You chide because honestly you’re getting tired of the way he needles Dean. It’s clear that there’s resentment there, your just not sure where it stems from.

“I know you.” Jack tells you. “I know you deserve better.”

“Jack…” You say but his fingertips are already clasping your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his.

“I can give you better.” He tells you, his thumb trailing over the apple of your cheek. “Let me give you better.”

He kisses you then. It’s confident, forceful, the kiss of a man who  has never been denied a single thing. You pull away and Jack smiles, you place a palm on his chest lightly pushing him away because now you know what this resentment is about, why he despises Dean.

“I’m going home to my husband.” You tell him, picking up your clutch and heading towards the door. “I’ll send you Anita’s details in the morning.”

Love Dean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[painted-bees]

Haha! Okay..! [[deep inhale]]

So, back before Magritte moved in with Raf, when they were first just meeting up for weekly jam sessions at the recording studio, Raf had kinda…only agreed to jam with her on the conditions that nothing would be recorded, no photos or social media posts about it, none of that. Magritte didn't care, she just wanted to play music with someone who was fun to play music with and wouldn't get bored of her after only an hour of it. She never pushed it. It never even came up in conversation. Total non-issue.

Eventually, once Magritte moved in and Raf started getting more confident/comfortable about her, he found that he very enjoyed collaborating with her on compositions, and had found himself wishing he could hear recordings of it. And so, it was him who suggested that they record some of the stuff they played, and–allowed her to post it to YouTube and such, so long as he was left uncredited or given a pseudonym. 

Magritte wasn't comfortable leaving him uncredited, and so consistently credited him as "Albatross" whenever his contributions were present in the work and recordings she posted. Raf knew about this, she never uploaded anything without permission. Her online presence/audience was very small and humble, it was fine.

They began playing at very small venues together, their "band" being named something totally different, and increasingly silly with each new gig. For Raf, this was his deliberate, careful, slow crawl out of a decade of extreme burnout. He promised himself that if it became at all stressful or stopped being fun, then he'd stop--plain and simple. 

His hard, fast rule with Magritte was "no contracts". If something required his signature, it wasn't gonna happen. He wasn't interested in getting dragged back into the "business" of music and showmanship, but he was very cautiously keen on rediscovering his joy for playing violin, and of playing to an audience. Magritte was, genuinely, the perfect accompaniment to help him ease back into it on his own terms. Though she wanted to make a living with her music, the money wasn't her goal--it was simply a thing that would allow her to keep playing music. If she didn't need the money to live, she'd have been content just playing music for fun every day for whoever would wanna listen to it. There were no dreams of "making it big" just dreams of "doing this forever, without anything else getting in the way of it". 

It's hard to say if it was due to one of Magritte's "Albatross" uploads, or if it was an audience recording from one of their small venue shows, or something else that put them on the radar, but one afternoon, Magritte received a very exciting email from the A&R division of a major record label--and experienced that ADHD bone-rattling excitement that only an impossible dream-come-true email inquiry could provide lmao.

She and Raf stop by a local coffee shop after work most days, and this was when Magritte decided to hand Raf her phone, asking if the email looked legit. He seemed to be in a pretty good mood, and she intended for the question to serve as a barometer as to whether she should suggest giving the label a chance or not. She figured, if he seemed uncomfy just assessing whether the inquiry was real and not a scam, then she wouldn't push it further than that.

But honestly, with a label this big, if it was legit, he'd at least be a little curious to know more about the offer, right?

No.

It's doubtful that Raf had even read past the first line of the email before his "pretty good mood" became stiff and cold as stone. Magritte felt the chances of a receptive outcome drop below zero as she watched the muscles of his jaw tense up.

His response was to ask, "Why are you bringing this to me? It doesn't matter if it's a scam or not, we had an agreement."

Taken aback by his hard, almost hostile tone, Magritte stammered that she thought he'd at least find the inquiry somewhat amusing, but "you're not even going to consider it, just for a second?" Raf repeated to her again that he had already told her contract and such were out of the question. She had been fine with it, she had assured him, even, that it was a non-issue. “Yeah, but–this one’s kind of a big deal.” To which Raf balked, “You thought I’d just change my mind if a ‘big enough’ company reached out to us?” And Magritte, defensively, blurted, “No, because it didn’t even cross my mind as a possibility!”

Raf pushed the phone over the table to her, and leaned back in his seat, stunned for a moment by the onslaught of his own racing thoughts and really, all he was able to say was "Why are you doing this to me? Why you?"

Recognizing that 1) she really stepped in it, and 2) she was too excited about this stupid email to abandon the pursuit of its possible offer as suddenly as the situation was demanding her to, Magritte stood to her feet suddenly, muttering apologies, saying something in frazzled tones about needing to get her thoughts straight before she said something stupid. She took her abrupt leave, but not before telling Raf that she'll meet him at home because she needs to settle her brain over a walk before she can talk reasonably with him about it. A quick “I love you” and she was out. 

Genuinely, it was the best thing she could think to do in order to avoid stubbornly, injuriously digging into the subject deeper while her ears and face flushed hot with both shame and disappointment. It wasn't going to be a productive conversation while her vision danced with black splotches under the intensity of her emotions. 

Unfortunately, removing herself from the situation as suddenly as she had created it meant that she had left Raf to sit and plummet into dread, with no voice to counter the incomprehensibly catastrophic flurry of his thoughts. 

As he had grown more and more comfortable with her, there had been a louder and louder alarm in his consciousness that told him the other shoe was gonna drop, that he had to back off if he wanted to avoid the devastating affirmation that Magritte, too, had only ever intended to use him. God, she played him so brilliantly, too. How had she managed to convince him to let her record? To post their sessions? To play in venues. How had she managed to get him to suggest it, like it had been his idea. It felt crazy to him that he somehow didn't realise it was all leading to exactly this situation. He had considered it, the notion was always there tickling the back of his mind like a persistent rash…but he really, really thought he was just being paranoid. He wanted so badly to believe he was…just being paranoid. Like a fucking idiot.

He got himself home, it was past dinner time, he didn't wait for Magritte to get back. Slammed back some sleeping meds and slam dunked himself into bed in order to avoid losing his goddamned mind.

Magritte's evening was…considerably more productive. The walk back home began with her mulling over all the ways Raf was being unreasonable and unfair for not at least entertaining the email. If the offer turned out to be no good, then it was no good! They should at least be able to discuss and consider it in a calm and mature manner, right? While it was true that he already had (and ended) an extremely successful musical career, she herself had yet to even get her foot in the door. She wasn’t anywhere near close to being able to make ends meet with her music, and her parents would never take her hard work and passion for it seriously until she was able to prove to them that it was actually worth something; that it was a sustainable, reliable path to pursue. It shouldn’t have mattered to her what they thought, but for some reason, she couldn’t help but make their approval/recognition/validation a core motivating factor in proving herself as a ‘competent’ musician. That competency, unfortunately, was measured by income and the willingness of a well known company to invest in her work. Being able to tell her parents that she was signed under something like Universal or such would have definitely turned their opinion around, and maybe…MAYBE they’d even see the value in helping her afford to study music at a university..! And shit, she’d finally be able to contribute to paying rent and utilities without breaking a sweat about it…she might even have gained an expendable income, she could finally start repaying Raf for all those little gifts and surprises he’d treat her with. Imagine.

Even before she had attempted to approach Raf about the email, she already had the picture of their life making music together as they have been–but with a more tangible goal/purpose, and without any outside obligations taking them away from just waking up and jamming every day. Playing music that just…paid for itself. Stress free!

But Raf couldn’t even entertain it. He was so upset that she’d even bring it up at all. Did he even read the email? Or did he see just the subject line and shut down?

She elected to read the email again, an effort to soothe herself by finding any reason to believe it was just a scam; that all her excitement and fanciful thoughts of the future were just her getting childishly ahead of herself. She didn't find what she was looking for. The name of the scouting agent was legit, there was no mention of money nor a fee, the email was clear, straightforward, and without any hype-y language. But what Magritte did notice–that she had somehow missed the previous fifty times she had read the email–was that the email didn’t refer Raf by his ‘Albatross’ pseudonym. It had named him in full; Rafael Ephrem. Somehow, -somehow-, the person who sent the email had been able to identify him. And–if they knew who he was… Magritte considered…The inquiry was sent to her email but the offer, specifically, was likely much more interested in him. It made sense. Magritte herself was untrained and unproven; a literal nobody. But, she was the only person Raf was making music with, and his name was very provenly bankable; a safe bet. Magritte had been so flattered and excited by the notion that she was being noticed and contacted by a label, it had been such an uplifting validation–but… The simple fact was that they likely would not have given Magritte the time of day had they not, somehow, recognized Rafael’s involvement in her work.

The offer was about him, not her. She was simply easier to get in touch with.

When she considered the situation from that angle, other aspects became apparent. Raf had, in no uncertain terms, been very clear from the beginning that he would not be signing anything with her. She knew that he was recovering from burnout, that he was wholly disinterested in pursuing music in any kind of professional capacity. Even if he had gone along with indulging Magritte’s excitement for her sake, would he have been sacrificing  the joy of making music with her, and surrendering himself to the labor of it, instead? Would it have slowly soured their relationship? If he felt obliged and pressured to create and play, would that have leached the joy out of it?

By ignoring the inquiry, Magritte wasn’t actually losing anything, herself. There was much to gain, potentially, by pursuing it–but she lost nothing in ignoring it. Things were already really good. She liked the relationship she had with Raf, as it was. He had given her a place to stay, and encouraged her near single-minded focus on music, allowed her to compose and play music as much as she wanted without pressuring her to divide her focus on other, more ‘important’ things. He didn’t take offence or feel ignored when she’d spend an entire weekend in her room just doin’ music stuff. He’d never even startle her out of the productive flow by shouting her name from the kitchen, in annoyance, to tell her for the upteenth time that she needed to clean the dishes right now. He let her pursue her joy and, often, he’d delight in joining in on it as well. This was the happiest, most comfortable she had ever felt in her life. In her mind, signing onto a label would have just let her continue doing that, but more securely.

For Raf, though…signing onto a label, being forced to take the work ‘seriously’, it likely felt like a tremendous loss to him. And–she had put him in an unfair position. If he signed on, he’d be surrendering himself to the work he did not wish to do, and would be inching ever closer to the life he had worked so hard to escape and recover from. But–by defending his own desires, comforts, and boundaries, and shutting down this whole label thing without giving it any space to sink roots as a tree of possibility, he risked planting the seeds of resentment into their relationship by denying her a potentially life-changing opportunity that he, no doubt, knew was of tremendous significance to her. From his perspective, it must have looked like a lose-lose situation. A situation that he had foreseen and took fair measures to avoid long, long in advance. He had already told her from the very beginning that this was something he would not do. But she had to test it anyway. Because she got too excited. Because of course she did.

Nah, she decided. She’d just get back home, tell Raf she was suffering excite-brained tunnel vision, wasn’t thinking realistically, and that she had therefore agreed with him that they’re much better off to just keep doing what they’ve already been doing–because that’s been working out just fine and she’d rather not introduce anything that could ruin it for them. She shouldn’t have brought it up. Even just the fact that she felt she needed to ease him into the conversation as softly as possible–by asking about the legitimacy of the email instead of diving into the meat of the matter–should have been enough to tell her that she was pushing it. She had known she was–but she bulldozed ahead with her excitement, anyways. And it had upset him. Hopefully not too much, since she felt she had taken some care with her approach, but yanno. He was clearly upset–and after going through such clear, careful measures to avoid this kinda thing, he kinda had a right to be. She needed to apologise.

By the time she got home, Raf had already put himself to bed–which worried Magritte somewhat. She never liked going to sleep without closure. But, she resolved to tell him her conclusions in the morning and hoped for an otherwise normal day.

And so, when the morning rolled around and she found Raf making coffee in the kitchen, she began with a “good morning”, an apology for not getting back home before he fell asleep, and then she simply unloaded the entire content of her thoughts and conclusions from the previous evening. She felt proud of herself for being able to reassess things with as much fairness and objectivity as she could manage, and she was confident in her choice to completely ignore the whole ‘email inquiry’ thing. More than that, she was beyond apologetic for even asking him to consider it, admitting to him that she realised it kinda put him between a rock and a hard place. She then suggested it’d be best just to assume the email was a scam anyways, “is that ok?”

Raf, who listened to her whole spiel without a single interruption, watched her for a silent moment with half-lidded disinterest (or was he just tired?) before replying with a flat, “mmhm.” 

“Okay.” Magritte had been hoping for some assurance that her reasoning, her apology, and her resolution were…yanno…adequate or somthing. But, as Raf sipped his coffee with an unconversational, chilly demeanour, Magritte wasn’t feeling assured by any measure. And so, to find an emotional baseline, Magritte offered a mousey, but genuine little “I love you.” To which Raf replied with a slight twitch of a smirk and an avoiding gaze, “Yeah, I’ll bet you do.”

Immediately, Magritte felt as though she had been tossed whole-bodily off a cliff, and didn’t pursue the conversation further. Shut right up, and spent the rest of the morning very quiet and withdrawn. Too uncomfortable and ashamed to take up space in Raf’s apartment for very long, she headed out to find a quiet, isolated park bench or something to cry on lmao, ‘cuz whuff.

Raf, who had fully expected that his snipey reply would coerce Magritte to trade out the ‘timid sad mouse’ act for something a lot more angry and defensive, was largely unsure of what to do with a Magritte–that instead–seemed to have completely shut down. Before she left, while maintaining his defensive coldness, Raf bothered to measure her vitriol by way of asking Magritte if she needed a ride anywhere. As delicately and sweetly as she could–Magritte declined, telling him it was ok, not to worry about it. And that was really the only additional dialogue they had together that morning. She should have been mad at him. She went through all the trouble of explaining things, apologising, and capitulating to him–and he deliberately stonewalled her in an attempt to get her to unmask. He had called out her bluff; she wanted something from him, he refused to give it to her, she attempted to take the higher ground, putting him in the position where the kindly, good response would have been to capitulate in kind–at least by confirming that the email wasn’t a scam after all, and reopening that dialogue for a more ‘level-headed’ conversation. But he identified the manoeuvre and deliberately shut it down. And then–out of pure spite–he refused to provide her the simple reassurance that a half hearted ‘I love you, too’ might have provided. Because he had spent the entire night and the whole morning fretting, and questioning, and dreading everything–and being the source of it, she deserved to feel it, too. But then her response had been to … ???? ????????? She left, but she didn’t take anything with her, she didn’t pack her belongings or make a show of wanting to move out, none of that kind of thing. She didn’t tell him he was being unreasonable or unfair, or that he needed to think things over. She just sorta–disintegrated in front of him. Just completely wilted. Wtf did that even mean??? Was she trying to guilt him? What else was she going to do? Likely, she intended on just avoiding him until he was ready to apologise or something. Like–if he phoned her right now, she wouldn’t answer. Right? To test his “punishment by avoidance” theory, he called her number–only to hear her answer on the second ring. And–after he hesitated for a moment too long, she asked if he was okay–if there was anything she could get him while she was out. Not having planned to actually say anything, Raf grasped for something believable to ask, landing on “Do you have your keys with you? I’m going to be at my uncle’s so the door will be locked.” To which Magritte assured him that yes she’s got keys, no worries. Say hi to uncle Bill for her.

This kinda sent Raf’s thoughts scattering. She was upset, she was -clearly- upset, he gave her reason to be upset and then he gave her more reasons to be upset. She had spent the whole morning looking downright miserable. She WAS upset, but she wasn’t…putting him through it. She wasn’t punishing him or reasoning with him or trying to position him. She wasn’t worried about him talking to his uncle, which means she hadn’t gone to him herself to get him on her side of this whole thing. What the fuck did she have on him? If she–worse case scenario–decided to get back at him by getting in contact with his mother, then she’d have to–

“Oh. I’m being crazy.” It was almost like a record skip. Any time ‘his mother’ popped up as part of a ‘logical course of action’ in what ever the fuck he was freaking out about, it served as a blaring alarm signaling that he had left grounded reality behind. No matter how much fucking sense it made to him, or no matter how careful his thoughts were in framing it as ‘unlikely’ or ‘worst case scenario’, any, ANY consideration of ‘his mother’ as a thing that could happen to him was a signpost that he had left the realm of reasonability. He made it a deliberate rule that the moment she popped up in his brain, he needed to assume he was thinking irrationally–until he could get a second opinion (and maybe a third, if he didn’t like the second). At least in this way, ‘his mother’ served as a helpful guiding figure in his life. Christ. Alright, alright. At what point did he fall off the rails, though? Magritte DID come to him about a…fucking A&R inquiry of all things. That was real, that happened. She got upset that he wouldn’t entertain it. That was also real, that also happened. How was he supposed to take that? She knew, she knew–it was something he would not do. He had told her, he had told her more than once–he was so clear about it. The rest made no sense to him, if his assumptions from that point forward were in fact…ungrounded.

And so, while he hadn’t actually planned to visit his uncle that day, Raf showed up at his door anyway. Sat down with him, and walked him through the events; the actual, physically observable things that happened, and the things that were said out loud. And Uncle Bill kinda made the “yikes” face, because…yikes.

So, uncle Bill attempted to recount from his perspective; Magritte pushed a boundary, no question. But–the assumption regarding why she did that needed to be challenged. Was it something she had been actively planning for and waiting on? Did she manipulate Raf into feeling safe enough to shed his boundaries? Did she use Raf as bait to reel in offers and interests she wouldn’t have been able to get otherwise? Well…What do we know about Magritte? We know that she’s excitable, impulsive, she projects and assumes the best case scenarios and constantly counts her chickens before they hatch. She can’t keep a secret to save her life. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, which makes her a terrible liar... Bill recites that, according to Raf, Magritte cited  excitement, impulsiveness, and the thought of being able to make more music with the added benefit of financial security as her reason for bringing the email to  him in the first place. She liked the idea of being able to help pay his rent, she wanted money to buy him gifts the same way he had bought gifts for her. Bill suggested that, if they were to read her motivations in a manner consistent with what they know and have seen about Magritte as a person, the future she was projecting on this inquiry email didn’t exclude him as a beneficiary, he was very much included in her happy little fantasy as someone she wanted to share the experience with. Magritte’s excitement had given her this same kind of tunnel vision before, preventing her from seeing other perspectives or outcomes of a captivating situation. And–they’ve seen that go both ways for her. It’s worked out before, but more often, it really doesn’t, and the fallout usually hurts her more than it hurts anyone else.

So–what’s more possible? That Raf has now found himself in the splash zone of this kind of…hypomanic/giddy impulsive behaviour they’ve seen from Magritte a few times already? Or is Magritte finally showing a more selfishly machiavellian side of herself that she was so good at hiding, it was barely comprehensible? “Okay, but…” Raf asks if his uncle had any explanation for why Magritte, despite being obviously upset, was putting an effort to act as though he wasn’t the reason for it? To which Bill was like, “well, have you asked her?” before, maybe a bit foolishly, offering up his best guess of “She already told you she knew she was in the wrong. She apologised. You didn’t accept her apology. My guess? She’s just gonna do what you want her to do. Stop making music with you? End the relationship? Get her to move out? I don’t recommend testing it unless it’s what you actually want.” Bill offered his honest opinion to Raf, that Magritte’s a good one. A very good one. And Raf needs to talk to her–about all of this. They’re both good kids, they’ll figure it out.

When Raf returned home, the door was unlocked and Magritte’s shoes were on the boot rack. He didn’t see her in the kitchen nor the living room, and so knocked on her bedroom door, asking her to sit with him on the couch when she had a moment to do so.

He had barely sat down before he heard the door to Magritte’s room creak open. Soon after, she sat curled into herself on the opposite end of the couch from him, eyes and nose peeking out from behind her knees. Small.

There was a moment of silence between them before Raf asked, “Honestly, now; are you pissed off at me?”

Magritte answered, “No, but you are, at me.”

 He elected to make no platitudes about it, “I was. I’m trying not to be. What are you expecting me to say?” To which Magritte replied, muffled into her knees, “I don’t know…don’t make me answer that. I don’t know.”

And so Raf asks instead, “What are you hoping for?”

“I don’t know, I love you. You don’t even gotta love me back but I wanna play music with you and I want us to keep having fun together and I want to delete the whole past twenty-four hours from my brain. That’s all.” And, while Raf paused to weigh that in his mind, Magritte hesitantly added, “I think there’s something wrong with me.” “With you?” Raf was taken a bit aback by this.

Magritte continued, “How does anyone get so excited and eager about something that it ruins everything? It didn’t even exist, it wasn’t real, there was no deal. They could have come back with an offer that was like ‘we want all ur music for zero monies’, ‘we want full, exclusive rights to your name, likeness, and social security number’, ‘we will provide you a $2 advance in exchange for your first born child’. Like–it could have been total garbage–I don’t know, it didn’t exist. But in my mind, it did exist, it was gonna be great, and–we were gonna be able to make so much music together, just like we are already, but without any of the stress. That wasn’t real, either. There’d have been so much more stress.” As she sunk further into herself, she concluded, “This is real. This sucks. I put us here.”

At this, Raf couldn’t help but let a genuine laugh escape through his nose as a little snort. “Actually…This isn’t so bad.” It wasn’t meant to be an insensitive snort, the irony had simply struck him. While Magritte had been carried away by dream situations, Raf had been consumed by nightmare scenarios. For him, the reality of sitting on the couch with Magritte, trying to come to grips with the fact that she hadn’t been trying to manipulate him like a tool, that she had been operating on the pure puppy-like head-empty jovial excitement that he was usually so fond and protective of–was a huge upgrade from the situation he had been imagining in his head. For Magritte, sitting on the couch with him, trying to come to grips with the fact that she may have negatively impacted a relationship and living situation that she had enjoyed dearly–was most certainly a gut-wrenching downgrade from the rosy “make music, get money, laugh and play” dream she had been imagining in her head. Raf had to be honest with her; he was still entirely firm on his stance of no contracts, no labels…and now–probably no live shows nor online media posts featuring him in any capacity. At least, not for a while. It would be too much of a raw nerve for him, and not something he wanted to stress over. They could still jam, and record–for themselves, privately. And sincerely, this was all it took for Magritte to uncurl her knees from under her chin, and perk up with hopeful gratitude. That she didn’t look as though she were being punished by Raf’s backsliding into old restrictions, and instead appeared genuinely surprised and happy that they could still just make music together–convinced Raf that Uncle Bill’s assessment had been, as usual, spot on. Magritte was a good one. A very good one.

 He couldn’t stop himself from asking though, “If I said no more music, full stop–?” “Could I still play music?” “Well–yeah.”

“Would you let me make you listen to it??”

“I like your music, Magritte–”

Her big, happy grin said plenty, before it dissolved into big, blobby tears and wet sniffles. 

She admitted that she was so scared he was gonna tell her the whole thing was over, but he didn’t and she’s so relieved, and she loves him so much and she’s so sorry.

Struck a bit numb by the notion that ‘ah, I’ve been a complete asshole’, Raf pulled her into a big ol’ hug, buried his face into her hair, and apologised in kind for his deliberate callousness in the morning–and more than that, for allowing his fear and suspicion convince him in the first place that she was something she wasn’t. It wasn’t right of him, it wasn’t fair to her, and this whole situation could have been resolved over breakfast if he had just…believed what she was saying at face value. Or at least he could have tried not to be a dick about it until he talked it over with his uncle. He couldn’t promise that he’d never fuck up like this again, just like she couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t get carried away either–but he promised to always return her statements of affection, especially in moments when he’s mired in panic and suspicion… to serve as a reminder to himself as much as to reassure her.

Because, in truth–though he’d never saddle her with the knowledge of this–she’s the closest he’s ever felt (outside of guilt-motivated blood relatives) to believing that someone could afford him genuinely unconditional love. A great deal of his fear is rooted in the understanding that–if she was proven to be playing him, there was absolutely no hope–zero chance that he’d ever be able to convince himself that he could just be–loved like a normal human being.And that’s not a state of mind he thinks he could confidently survive. For Magritte’s part, any music or career-related thing that requires his involvement–she just doesn’t entertain unless he’s the one bringing it to her. Raf has never stopped her from pursuing music in a professional capacity where it didn’t involve him–in fact, he has always been extremely eager and supportive from the side-lines. She is literally, without any question, his favourite musical artist. Most of her equipment these days is bought and paid for by him, any opportunity he can find for her, he brings to her–and he is only able to comfortably, confidently do so because she never asks or expects it of him.

 Her favorite music is the music she makes with him, and eventually…eventually…they do end up performing shows together again (along with Cortes). But their music is theirs first and foremost. For themselves, before anything else. And it is a gift more precious to her than anything.

[buttercupshands]

Hi hello

I'm... Taking a bit of a break, from social media and fandom related stuff aka isat fandom first and foremost

These two-three months were great, don't get me wrong, but...

I didn't really get anything form it other than a ton of irl problems, because of the priorities mixed in my brain

It's fine, everything's perfect even

Haven't felt like my art is liked this much... Pretty much basically never. Not even long ago.

I do enjoy sketching for myself, but that all was low effort and low interest in return and began to become more and more passionate about anything as a result

And... I think I burnout myself for real this time, both fandom wise and emotionally.

There were no conflicts, really, like yesterday was the most fun I had in years compressed in one day

And yet. It doesn't affect anything in my real life. Even more so my hyperfixation affected it super negatively and if it was anyone's fault it was mine.

So. I think it's time to set one thing straight - so I'm taking a break. Not deleting anything here again, just probably going silent aside from my scheduled 3 pm reblogs I've gathered in last 6 months.

I'm awake not, at 4 pm (or more like 5 pm) because I fell asleep at 8 am drawing and drawing for no reason. And it wasn't really worth all that effort. Nothing ever was worth any effort honestly.

And when you start questioning to yourself if it's worth it and can't find the excuse to continue on going and burning yourself away until you finally choke from your own grip on your useless neck... Isn't it better to rethink last choices?

I'm long past the point of having a mental break and cry that life isn't fair or something. And more than that I don't need help.

Honestly this little post is really just a quiet vent while I sort my thoughts.

And I've sorted them. Isat is just... To good to be true right now for me. Undeserved.

So a break, and I can thing of so many reasons while never believing any! But right now the effort it takes is not worth it, sorry. And I'm not scheduling again because that just resulted in me being scared that I posted one post twice

And now... I don't have that post anymore. And it did shook me, and it's still there.

Does it matter that the original post is deleted? Nope. You might never find it outside of reblogs with a wrong looking text and that's it.

And I hate thart. Have that so hard because I worked so hard on it.

Haha. Anyways, I'm still talking and talking....

Why am I doing this, again?

[yutaholic]

Thank you for even making that post because I honestly feel like I’m going to explode!! Championing every issue is EXHAUSTING. I have such empathy fatigue. Bombardment of “rules”, behavioral guidelines, services, companies, networks + food brands & PEOPLE to boycott ALL THE TIME. Fandom is space many of us come to unplug from reality…it’s certainly my hyperfixation & ppl be like “well then get another one because you shouldn’t support–” IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT. Fuck. I can’t take it anymore. Calls to action being in EVERY single place have weakened my mental state even more than it was before which was already on “pending disability” level of severe & now I’m just. burned t-absolute-f out….at everything!! I can literally FEEL myself unraveling. Kpop stans & their toxic activism can go to hell. They’re so worried about making sure to condemn others for “not doing enough” or being bad people, that they don’t even realize their actions are making them into bad people. This shit takes a toll on mental health, there is science behind this, it is real and what happens to human beings when inundated with constant terrible news, and it’s not just being ~too privileged to care~ but these performative mfs have no concept of blacklisting anymore and just want to assume the absolute worst about someone, call them names & wish harm on folks who are at the end of their ropes! It’s maddening! So even if compassion fatigue isn’t why you didn’t go out of your way to Denounce and Drag™️ him (bc you totally have the right to simply not want to do that on a fanfic blog!) I’m just glad someone else stated that this is supposed to be an ESCAPE. fuck.

Baby, burnout will fuck you up. Don't do that to yourself. Take the time you need and recoup. Life is a constant war and you can afford to lose a battle here and there to focus on your own health and well-being. Getting yourself back into a good place mentally will be a huge win. We both know the ppl obsessed with performative activism aren't doing anything from a place of compassion. The real ones are out there making change, not sending people death threats online from the comfort and safety of their mommy's basement.

When I posted the pic of NCT Dream and Big Time Rush, I wrote in the tags how BTR was something my sister and I loved and bonded over. We watched the show even though it was obviously a kids show and we were both adults. It was just something that gave us joy. My sister passed away years ago and anything BTR-related will make me teary because I think about how much we laughed together over it.

So the first thing I get are messages over how problematic BTR is, that I should delete the post or I'm pro-genocide if I don't dislike them. Ngl that made me so upset because I got a bunch of faceless people trying to taint some precious memories of me and my sister. If they came at me trying to educate me on things I didn't know that would be different, but it's straight to judgment and hatred toward me over something I posted that was totally innocent.

Meanwhile I get criticized for posting about a kpop group instead of reblogging every call to action post. I donate my money to these causes, but I don't post about it because I don't need my ass kissed for doing what I know to be right. I am 1000% sure the anons in my inbox that try to police me have never given a dime to anything, but are policing people's blogs for not reblogging posts or talking about it more.

I feel bad that I haven't been very active on here this year so I try to come on when I have some free time to interact with you guys. I make a silly post about Doyoung and get anons tearing into me for it like I'm his social media manager. Okay so because the world is going to shit we aren't allowed to enjoy anything?? Can't make jokes about anything. Can't show support for anything. Just wrong on every fucking count.

Believe me I am so goddamn aware of how lucky I am that I can sit here and say I'm very privileged that I live comfortably in the life I have. I know what's going on in the world and I do my part to help where I can, but I also have to keep functioning. I don't want every minute of my life to be seeped in anger, I did that for a long time and it not only eats away at you, it makes you ineffective in actually changing the things making you angry in the first place.

This was just supposed to be a blog where I posted my stories. One of the few places I could go and not constantly be reminded of how fucked up the world is. I've always said that people who told me reading a fic of mine made their day a little better or helped them escape for a bit were always my favorite. That was what I came here for and I loved being able to share the tiniest moments of peace and quiet with others through stories with guaranteed happy endings.

I'm frustrated because I have 4 drafts ready to go next year. I got the story posts done and made all the headers. But I don't want to post them. I have no problem admitting I'm selfish and spiteful. Even though I can turn off anon, I can't block these miserable people and I don't want them reading my stuff. They don't get to consume my content and then tell me to off myself right after.

A massive fuck you to those of you that ruined this blog for me.

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

Things about America that would give Europeans a heart attack.

Many Americans are expected to drive AN HOUR to work every day. Europeans don't even visit their mom regularly if she lives 30 minutes away.

We measure distance traveled in time. Because sometimes driving 15 miles can take as long as driving 45 miles. How long you'll be in a vehicle is most important.

Zoning laws. Many of us actually do like to walk. Our major cities were designed by automotive lobbyists to force us to buy cars.

Food deserts. There's some places in America with literally zero grocery stores within 5 miles of your home.

Hospital bills. 1 emergency room visit can cost tens of thousands of dollars. Not to mention the $15,000 of you need an ambulance.

Mental health. You can be forced into grippy sock jail against your will. Then stuck with a bill that costs tens of thousands of dollars when you get out.

Speaking of medical bills. Credit reports. Remember that medical bill that costs tens of thousands of dollars? That goes on your credit report if you can't pay it. Which makes it harder to rent, buy a house, buy a car, or get a credit card.

Retirement. You can't get social security until you're 62 and social security isn't enough to live on. You're supposed to be saving money to retire on, on top of that. And based on your family's health history and cost of living. It's not unusual to need $1-2 million to retire. And it's not unusual for people to have to work into their 80s.

College. A hundred thousand dollars in student loan debt isn't unheard of and many Americans are never able to pay it off in their lifetime because interest is like 5-8%. Also. That goes on your credit report.

Minimum wage. I don't necessarily believe that Europeans would be shocked that minimum wage doesn't cover the cost of living here. But there's people that live here that are suprised to find out our minimum wage is $7.20. I've gotten into arguments over this, several times. If Americans don't believe it, how can I expect a European to?

Lack of public transit. Only like, major cities have public transit, and only a few of them have reliable public transit.

Lack of labor unions and union busting. Many European countries like France will go on nation wide strikes if an oligarch sneezes wrong. Companies in America will shut down business in entire states if the unions are getting too strong. Honestly I'm kinda surprised that we don't strike more.

Lack of paid vacation time. In a lot of countries 6 weeks is like normal. My last job I got none. And people legitimately didn't believe me when I said I had to work on Christmas or not get paid (yeah, it was a desk job). Again. If Americans can't believe it. Why would I expect Europeans to? Also I feel like Europeans would just die from the burnout because it's not uncommon for Americans to literally work themselves to death.

No. For real. I have people mad at me because I couldn't go to a family friend's wedding because they didn't believe I didn't have labor day off.

-fae

[theemptyislost]

Hi!! I've been a quiet follower of your work for some time now (I'm pretty skittish about reaching out to other fans and creators, but it's not for lack of love or enthusiasm!) and that sentiment extends from haunt me, to your crown of madness series, and even your daily haarlep posts (which I did in fact look at a LOT when I was too busy with finals and school projects to replay the house of hope scenes to listen to haarlep monologuing)- the haarlep thirst got me down so bad and in a lot of ways your depiction of them in haunt me is responsible! like what was originally "aww, haha! bratty cambion and his lifelong partner in psychosexual warfare, how cute!" Went to "🥺��❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥" so fast it was emotionally jarring. I fell in love with them through your portrayal of them! And in the process, your tav too!

And all that is just to say I really appreciate your work and I saw a few of your update posts where you expressed worry about length and the ratio of hurt to comfort and I just wanted to drop in and say that you have readers who are with you for the long haul and that your mental health and not getting burnout takes precedence! I for one enjoy anything that you put out even if it's not writing and while I do anticipate your story, as a consumer to another consumer, you're putting all this work out here for FREE- like churning out actual *novels* in your own spare time (i checked and with the additional 20k from your prev haunt me is clocking it at over 100k now???? You're a BEAST for this in the best way possible) and that's not to be understated! You take however much time you need and tell your story how you want it told! there is no pressure at all, you no doubt got real life stuff going on and the fact that you're choosing to share your work with the world is something that fellow bg3 fanfic readers are so lucky to have, but are not entitled to! You are great and I'm rooting for you even if it's privately from the bg by being a huge lurker!

Thank you so much! I completely understand the skittish to reach out/lurker mentality. I think this is the first time I have been social in quite a while. BG3 has somehow got my introvert/semi-agoraphobic tush out again. 😊 So, I do appreciate you jumping out there and reaching out.

Your words are too kind, and they lift my heart. I am always happy to meet others who suffer the same affliction and love the menace...and are in the same Haarlep black hole that (I feel) is never ending! Haunt Me was initially supposed to be a one shot...and the intrusive thoughts regarding that au universe spiraled. I have the ending typed up already and its just moving all the idiots in that direction...its taking longer than I initially thought to flesh out all the details (so I appreciate your support and patience). The 'daily dose of haarlep' posts started as a daily mood booster, so I am glad you enjoy them as well!! 🖤🖤🖤 (I got a bit distraught when the posts of them started to dwindle a bit - but i understand that the fandom waves ebb and flow)

I promise my mental health has the endurance of one of those horrific cockroaches during a nuclear fallout. (The burn out from my MFA is over after tomorrow, for the time – so I can get back to basking in the glory of BG3 and the Fiends with you all fully)

You are making my dark soul blush and I appreciate your support!

Here is some more Haarlep as tribute! (I have not had time to draw yet, and photoshop game edits are swifter on the dishing out atm)

I also hope you are taking care of yourself and having a wonderful weekend.

(PS – I honestly did not expect anyone to like my Tav character – so I am glad she is a mini hit between the Fiend Sandwich) 😅🖤

[vanana-r0tat3]

some pre-game batim headcanons :>

Henry: - all he does is eat hot chip be bisexual and lie /j - has a preference for women so i think him realizing hes not straight is like hey wait a minute hey wait wait - joey was his gay awakening,,, real -gets burnout super easy, it probably frustrates him a lot when he cant draw - drawing is a big comfort for him - has pretty bad social anxiety, but has become pretty good at dealing with it!

Joey: - gay. this man is not into women at all sorry 💀 "i just dont have time for girls" yeah sure fruitcake - watch me project once again and give this man bpd. like im sorry his whole thing with henry?? im not even explaining it but if you get it you get it yea - also definitely has adhd - wheelchair user !! he is able to walk, but he still needs the wheelchair when flare ups get real bad. he is stubborn though and refuses to use it at work or when hes out of the house

more under the cut !!

Wally: - he has adhd, obviously - transgender !! i feel like hes a gnc binary trans man - hes straight to me, but his gf/wife is also trans >:D t4t win - i feel like he likes to gossip. the thought of him, norman, shawn, maybe even jack whispering to eachother in a corner about some random secrets theyve overheard is super funny to me

Sammy: - AUTISM... hes autistic - gets overwhelmed and overstimulated super easily, hence why hes always so irritable - yknow what im giving him bipolar. hes my comfort character and i get to project my mental illness !! - hes gay and demiromantic - honestly? transfem i see it. bc like im thinking about how he talks about susies singing like. i know what you are - bad with boundaries.. he is so bad at them and reading social cues - hates being touched, probably is only comfortable with jack for the most part - watch him crush on like half the men mentioned in this post at least once

Norman: - hes also autistic. his sense of humor is so??? 😭 - HES ALSO DEFINITELY AN OLDER GAY GUY. he just has that energy yknow like if you agree - probably would be agender too - him and sammy are that incompatible type of autism havers does this make sense?? like some autistic people i just cant stand because of my autism, our places on the spectrum make it so hard to like them yk? thats norman and sammy - this man definitely has insomnia

Susie: - lesbian. she doesnt know it yet but she is - her calling sammy handsome isnt her being attracted to him its just gender envy 😁 - shes just a feminine transmasc 👍 - rejection sensitive dysphoria out the ASS my poor girl - very insecure deep down, so she overcompensates for it by trying to be a people pleaser n stuff

Allison: - shes bisexual !! has a strong preference for women - shes a trans woman idc idc i love her - AUTISTIC AS HELL - i imagine she had a sibling like relationship with joey - probably one of the few people that could tell him off without like. getting fired lol

Buddy: - adhd and autism,, special intrest in art/drawing - AROACE. the stuff he says about his friendship with dot?? "i didnt know we could just be friends" and him not being too into his first assumption when she pulls him away to show him the bendyland model?? yea - honestly i think he has social anxiety hes doing his best - hes very sensitive over people bringing up him being jewish, he seems so ready to be made fun of or scorned for it :( - definitely some cultural detachment because of it (im projecting again) - i think dot would wanna learn about about it, buddy should teach her stuff!! like traditions and whatnot

Tom: - asexual 👍 - TRANSGENDER. probably would be nonbinary, heavily masc leaning though - he smokes a lot have you heard this man good lord. i dont think allison is a fan of it - anger issues,, mostly caused by stress and a lack of sleep, hes trying his best :( - he has arthritis. hes not old but god do his joints fee like it. he has crutches !! like joey though he only really uses em at home 💀

Jack: - wheelchair user jack my BELOVED idk where the hc came from but im all for it - he cant walk, but is able to get around just fine! watch him try and do wheelies to impress sammy only to almost fall over - 100% autistic as well. him and sammy are able to be autism together - unlabeled aromantic - hes such a loser /loving

Grant: - poor guy gets chronic headaches someone give him some painkillers - hes got generalized anxiety disorder this man cannot get a break - demisexual and demiromantic,, mans is double demi

Shawn: - adhdtism 😭 - LOVES to talk, he could go on for hours dude - i feel like he knows a lot of ridiculously obscure knowledge. for why? dont worry about it - he gives me genderfluid vibes - literally just some guy

[comfortmarvelimagines]

Hi! So I really love your "When You Can't Find The Quiet" series and I think it's amazing how well you write! If you're still taking requests I'd love to see another part with maybe like Bucky and Steve helping the reader through a meltdown. Like Peter's ill or something so couldn't be there and Tony's away on some kind of business but like Happy picked the reader up and took them to the tower and Tony contacted Bucky to help. And like Steve's confused and just draws for the reader or something?

(Can be read as standalone or as (the much delayed) WYCFTQ pt 6)

There weren’t many people you interacted with on a regular basis, and that was just the way you preferred it.

People are scary. Unpredictable. Deceit hidden behind curtains of seemingly genuine intent, gauzy and constantly shifting and impossible to focus on what lies beyond. It didn’t make sense. All your life you had been exactly as you were, no lies, no acting unless instructed to. The masking kind, only, as you tried to keep up in the neurotypical social game. Frankly, it all seemed rather put on and pointless and by the time you reached high school you’d all but given up on it. Given up on trying to decode other people as well. There was too much shit going on, and it was the path of least resistance to settle on your small group of friends and leave it at that. Minimal masking, minimal need for interpretation. You trusted your friends to be who they said they were, and you showed up with no pretences held.

That being said, entering Peter’s world was terrifying. Here were adults that seemed to have true intentions; adults with the time and resources to make your life easier in a way you’d never before had access to. Adults- Tony, Nat, Bucky, Pepper- who said they wanted to help. Who did help, and not in the way you were used to adults ‘helping’, with social rules and short reprimands and sad sighs when you just didn’t get it. You had to trust them. Because without that help, trying to manage being a generally functioning human that left the apartment and did homework and went to school and didn’t punch randoms on the subway on instinct for standing too close, felt impossible. Part of you felt shame for having grown so reliant, but you knew the alternative all too well. Complete shutdown. Burnout. Months of being so hazy and out of it nothing felt real and nothing got done. So, reluctantly, you accepted the status quo.

Meltdowns happen. They suck ass. At this point you felt like you’d experienced every possible way that they could happen, the growing Big Bad Feeling in the pit of your guts almost familiar. They honestly didn’t get any easier with time (or, to phrase it kinda weirdly, with practice). The humiliation stung just as harshly after every one when you had nothing left to give. The Post-Meltdown Energy Drain leaving you collapsed on the floor like some kind of deflated beanbag, letting everyone else take over. You could cry over the mortification later when you had the spoons.

This last meltdown was no different. It had grown over a few days, the general unrest of the student body headed towards summer break doing nothing to help, nor did the constant stickiness of late-May humidity. It made sense, in a weird parallel way- humidity inevitable breaks with a storm, and the growing sense of badness broke in a meltdown. It was only too bad you couldn’t have waited until school was out to have it in the privacy of your bedroom. The floor probably would’ve been less gross as well, but even the thought of high school corridor germs wasn’t enough to get you up as you waited for Happy.

It wasn’t usually Happy who picked you up. Tony typically did it himself, and as selfish as it felt you preferred it that way. He knew what to do, and he hadn’t belittled you for it yet so there was a growing sense of trust that it was an unlikely scenario. Alas, being an avenger and owning a multi-billion dollar company is no casual business, and there was just no way he was able to come and get you, so Happy was enlisted. You weren’t sure what to make of Happy. He never really said much to you (not that you would’ve said much in return) but he seemed to like Peter. Only problem was, Peter wasn’t even at school today. Probably hurt himself patrolling, given that it was probably impossible for his genetically enhanced ass to get sick. Lucky.

The slapping of Happy’s shoes on the worn linoleum broke your train of thought. The corridor was being kept clear by Ned and the new school nurse, who probably volunteered just to not have to figure out what else to do. You could’ve sworn none of these people had ever met another goddamn autistic person out in the wild before. Which, their loss, honestly. You hoisted yourself up on a locker and followed Happy on autopilot, eyes glazed over by the time you reached the distinctive black car. You felt like absolute shit. But every part of your brain was yelling at you to act fine, act normal, like nothing had ever happened.

Unsurprisingly, Happy didn’t say a word the entire drive back. You felt like every atom in your body had been drained of energy and you collapsed against the window of the car, too viscerally exhausted to care about the vibration of the car against your skull. Somewhere deep in your brain you tried to remember all the steps to the sensory room- the elevator, the right level, FRIDAY, the security pass- but each thought was too much effort to complete, and trailed off part way through. You kept trying over and over and over and over to remember how to do it, how to get to safety, with each attempt fizzling out sooner and sooner and never eventuating. You were too preoccupied with forcing the repetitive thought loop to recognise pulling into a driveway, down to the garage, half closed eyes seeing nothing, and the bone-tiredness letting your head just hang when the pressure of the door dropped as someone opened it from outside. Cool metal pushed hair back from your forehead and held you up as the restraint of the seatbelt rescinded and you realised it was Bucky.

He didn’t even ask before transferring most of your weight to his shoulder, and picking you up and out of the car. Somewhere in the haze you considered that maybe, this treatment was embarrassing; after all, you’d only met Bucky like, twice, and this was the second time he’d seen you in at some point in the meltdown life-cycle. But your body felt simultaneously numb and tingly and not there at all, and you didn’t even have the energy to cry despite desperately wanting to be able to, and all you could do was sink into his shoulder and try and keep your eyelids open.

You could feel when Bucky spoke. “Hey, can you grab that blanket over there? It’s weighted.”

Still feeling devoid of any capacity, you almost imperceptibly shook your head. Bucky rubbed your shoulder. “It’s okay, I wasn’t asking you, doll. We’re up in the sensory room. Steve is here. He wants to help, and I’m gonna get him to grab the weighted blanket so we can rest on that big comfy beanbag. You can sleep if you want, or we can just ride this out until you’re feeling a bit better. Nice and easy,” he lowered himself to slowly fall back into the memory foam. It only just occurred to you that you were gripping onto Bucky’s shirt for dear life, that the only way he would’ve been able to put you down would be to pry himself from your entangled hands. An honestly, you didn’t even fucking care. Humiliation aside, Bucky felt steady and calm and reassuring and you still felt so unsafe in your mind and body, an unrest that could easily spiral into meltdown round two. Which, ya know, you’d rather not do. Fighting sleep, you felt the air shift next to you and Steve returned, draping the grounding weight of the blanket over your jittery bones. He had something else with him too; as he sat on the ground beside you and Bucky, you registered that it was a sketchbook, and without a word he started to draw. First a landscape, a sunset, some birds, etched in grey then filled in pastels of colour. Mesmerised, you watched as your consciousness dripped away, sleeping in the way you only ever did when you were safe

[akolnoix]

I've been following for a bit and I was wondering about your p4 au(?)/rewrite that you have going on honestly seeing you p4 posting has been making me think about it a lot more recently. Also you have a lovely art style!

thank you! it's honestly nothing very concrete, just an assortment of musings that i play around with in my mind for fun... might as well post some of my ramblings (apologies that it's long and a mess)

-im kinda obsessed with trying to make accomplice ending work? the ending itself in p4g is pretty great (seeing the "yu has forged a bond that cannot be broken" text you get for max social link is sooooo good) and fits thematically, it's just that it has like NO proper buildup to it to make it feel even remotely plausible.

so i'm thinking you'd have to really go out of your way to get it. like in addition to maxing out adachi's SL, you can't advance any other characters' SL past like rank 3 or something early on, and you have to select certain dialogue options (like the original game has so many mean/detached responses you can pick to be a dickhead lol), you have to refuse optional hangouts with your friends. and Then you have to choose to not reveal him. so through consistently refusing to truly connect with/care about the people around you, the protag can somewhat reach a similar worldview to adachi, and conceivably relate to him.

-izanami brings up the tv world also being a product of outside perception, but the actual implementation of it in the game feels messy and often like it's just there as a way to give reason for the shadows desiring transgressive things for shock value without committing to them being real aspects of the characters (like, how kanji's shadow is extremely stereotypically gay not just in mannerisms but in overtly showing interest in men, but in kanji's acceptance+future appearances they make sure to assert that the real kanji is not actually gay)

so i've been kinda toying with the idea that instead of the shadows as presented in p4, there would be like multiple fractured shadows in conflict? like i think it would be neat to play more off the tension between how the characters are perceived by the town vs their repressed selves, idk

-i've been turning naoto's arc around in my head a lot over the years... like the easiest thing to do would be transplant the existing (attempted) narrative to a trans woman naoto. but i also want to do right by canon naoto, who sees himself as a man, desires to be one, only gives up on that because he believes he can't become one, and gets treated like dogshit by the narrative for it. so lately i've drifted to the harder challenge of working out the logistics to make a satisfying+believable arc for trans man naoto. i've got concepts but i don't have enough worked out in this regard yet to talk about here.

-im autistic and rise has always read as such to me, so i'm being self-indulgent and making that an overt aspect of her arc. i grew up subconsciously masking my autism, and it wasn't until i experienced autistic burnout just after graduating highschool that i discovered just how much of myself i had been suppressing, and how much was constructed. it was like i had never known my true self until age 18, or noticed just how badly that repression hurt me.

so um. you might say i saw a lot of myself in rise. she's got a slightly different scenario, but still a pretty autistic one. a child with no friends because everyone thinks they're strange, who decides to learn how to be Normal in hopes of obtaining any human connection. but because she can't be herself, the connections she does make don't feel genuine. her becoming an idol specifically is really fantastic thematically, a career all about commodifying not just your body or talents but your very personality, for a girl highly manufactured on every level to appear Normal.

for the brief period you see her in person before her shadow, rise practically has a flat affect and monotone, with everyone commenting on how different she is from her idol persona, and i'd like to actually retain that as an aspect of her character. i'd like to shift her arc to being about relearning that aspect of herself, and allowing herself to be that. even if just among friends. her idol persona is still part of her (she made it after all, and it can be useful), but she was harming herself by thinking it was all she should be.

i've always hated her going back to being an idol (especially the way they executed it ugh) but it might be nice if she stuck with music...

-yosuke internalized homophobia arc is a gimme

-naturally a major aspect is in the differences btw a playthrough as yu narukami vs femc. as an ex-delinquent she experiences more hostility from the general populace and dojima. oh and i don't care for super self-inserty protags so yu and masami have more established personalities+history+etc.

i imagine the narukami sibling dichotomy is that yu tries to be perfect and masami intentionally disappoints (opposite attention-seeking responses to their ambiguously distant parents), and in their trip to inaba yu takes the opportunity to let loose, while masami reigns in the delinquent behavior (because dojima will actually react to what she does). and they both benefit from the power of friendship etc etc

-sometimes i enjoy daydreaming about a "cross-dressing" sequence that's actually fun. where the crew hang out in yu's room or something and try on each other's stuff for fun. and chie gets a buzz cut

-while it's very true that women can be bigots, that p4 claims that kanji would think that men are more accepting of gender nonconformity in men than women is something just. utterly detached from reality. it makes more sense that he thought there was no possibility of acceptance from boys so he never tried, but he thought there was a chance with girls but was rejected by them too, so he distances himself from everyone.

and i think kanji can be gnc AND gay. for many people there is a real fear of stereotype, of reinforcing them, but that repulsion is misplaced. stereotypes are bad when they are used to dehumanize, but to be a effeminate gay man, a fat butch lesbian, a trans woman with a beard, are not bad things to be. and i think it'd suit kanji to have that sort of conflict, and metatextually to take those aspects of canon that were so negatively presented and transform them

and i think it would suit his love of cute things to eventually start dressing cutesy.

-i've definitely got more in my brain i could say or i forgor but this post is long enough

[zzencat]

Hello! Myself RJ🪷🐚🪞🪽 ( an ♌sun and ♎moon&rising ) she/her. Here for your free reading game<3

My questions are :")

What's blocking/stopping me to reach my true potential to achieve my dream life? For my career & dance/writing stories?

Is script writing or dancing is a good career field for me?( basically entertainment industry works) Or I should go for language specialist/ jobs related to Laws?

What's I need to focus on in order to achieve success in life?

Thankyou so much in advance💐

Hey RJ!!! thanks for the wait, i hope you’re getting your daily words-read limit in:

Hey RJ!!! im gonna just start it off here- i think you’re stopping yourself. you have what it takes and you have the creativity and the emotion- the raw passion inside of you, but for some reason, you’re stopping yourself. i think you’re hard on yourself and but you do keep your emotions in check. i think you detach yourself easily or “take flight”/mentally check out just in case things backfire, and you might be used to this sort of thing, and while i do think you’d be good at keeping personal and work matters separate, i do recommend that you stick to your promises or things that you claim to commit to. lil teddy note: also i’ve never seen so many king and queen court cards in a celtic cross reading for someone hahaha. i think the biggest issue here is commitment and not trying to limit yourself to one thing, trying to do multiple things at once and get em all with 1 or 2 stones. i can’t tell you that’ll be possible or impossible, but it’s the quality produced that might go south. i suggest focusing on one thing at a time, maybe 2 if you can handle it (but im still iffy on that), and hone that 1 skill or profession up to amazing standards first. perfect what you can do now, but ofc allow yourself to make mistakes. i think you can be pretty harsh on yourself, esp on a subconscious level, but you have to be careful not to burn yourself out and start 1 thing at a time. that way you can balance out the social, emotional, and mental aspects of your life. but other than that- skills n creativity? you’re doin great!! you just need to raise the standard for your own products and commitment levels. and don’t try to make things harder for yourself! a challenge is great and all, but rmr consider the costs :)

i REALLY recommend that you go into something that’s not crazy overwhelming. something that you can handle, and then build up from there. again, the sense of detachment comes up, followed by perfectionism and fear of failure, and then eventually pessimism. something that allows you to express your emotions and story, but overall not dead stressful, bc it can get pretty crazy up in there (esp the industries that you’ve chosen.) i suggest choosing something small that you can tackle and then build your way up so that you can build your commitment as well and lower levels of burnout and anxiety over them. i think it’s a good time to choose rn and honestly, you do value your freedom a lot and ability to make your own choices, do and create whatever you want, so you’d have to look at these options carefully and choose the one that’s less likely to stress you to hell n back. start small, then you can build big. something that you’re already good at, and you don’t mind adding in some extra beginner blocks (even if you already know them.) as appealing as being booked and busy and recognized sounds, it’s also a lot of energy and a whirlwind of things to think about…these could wear you out real quick, so you have to have a stronger foundation.

that’s it!! thank you for waiting and joining the game RJ, i hope this clears up some things for you 😁

[flip-flopping-frede]

Weird realization.

So I’m lithromantic. Being in [romantic] relationships is traumatizing for me. I’m aegosexual. Putting myself in a real-life sexual situation with another person is incredibly uncomfortable for me. I’m caedplatonic. I don’t really experience platonic attraction to people. Regarding my aesthetic and sensual attraction… I only feel aesthetic attraction to people I basically [idoloize], and I do not feel sensual attraction to ableist people. I think I struggle to feel sensual attraction, honestly.

If you notice, I don’t really have the types of attractions most “allos” have. I in general, don’t really have any kind of “attraction” to other people. I also have a personality disorder, so if I do feel “attraction” (that I am capable of feeling) towards someone, it is usually pretty intense. Also, I don’t really “have” anyone in my life. My friendships usually unfortunately eventually fall apart. It kinda feels I am in an unhealthy and socially dangerous situation by lacking a healthy support system? And also, I don’t really feel a pull towards other in-real-life people? I’ve also been in an autistic burnout for over a year now, so I kinda feel like establishing new connections and maintaining something would be really draining on the minimal executive functioning I do have.

Bottom line is I don’t think I experience “loneliness”, or at least not significantly enough to want to seek out a brand new relationship of some sort? I have also been longing for a snake, however sometimes I have bad days where I feel like I shouldn’t get a snake because I can’t even take care of myself? 😪. Idk it kinda sucks living like this in a perpetual state of not being able to recover from this autistic burnout, or be able to be a functioning member of society, or want to be a participant in society.

[bettsfic]

so i watched a movie called Half Nelson last night, for which Ryan Gosling was nominated for an Oscar in 2006. it's about a middle school teacher struggling with a drug addiction who forms a deeply inappropriate relationship friendship with one of his students after she catches him using.

i have no pertinent craft thoughts about this film (you can read my Ryan Gosling Summer craft essays in this month's newsletter) but my notes for this particular movie became as unhinged as the movie itself, and i thought i'd share them.

because my handwriting is mostly illegible, i've provided a translation and context below each note.

Jesse Pinkman vibes

Calculator watch!

Dan (Gosling) is basically a proto Jesse Pinkman in this movie. and he wears a calculator watch. it's worth noting that during the sex scene later, there is an inordinate amount of attention placed on said watch, and i honestly can't tell if that's supposed to be funny or not.

Gets high, goes to a bar, starts lecturing girls about pedagogy

this is the only part of the movie where i liked Dan, because i too lecture on pedagogy when i'm high.

Broken Social Scene ass soundtrack

just found out that Broken Social Scene did in fact score the film.

"I cleaned up," he says before railing a line of cocaine

no context needed.

"Are you a communist?"

"It's just not cool to be a Nazi anymore, baby."

HE IS GRINDING AGAINST HER AT A DANCE?

I trust Anthony Mackie way more than this fucker

Bloody nose in class

Dead cat?

This is so hard to watch.

i don't know how to provide context for this. i had such profound secondhand embarrassment that i could barely keep watching. the succession of events goes something like: Dan has sex with a woman who asks him the next morning if he's a communist. they have a conversation about politics. we skip to a middle school dance/mixer where Dan dances very inappropriately with the 13 year old he's "befriended," Drey. by this point the movie makes it very clear that their relationship is inappropriate. Dan gets high behind the school building and offers to give Drey a ride home, but she goes with Frank (Anthony Mackie) who is a drug dealer but a way better guy than Dan, even though he's trying to get her to sell drugs for him. Frank is trying to save Drey from Dan; Dan is trying to save Drey from Frank. the next day, Dan gets a nosebleed in class and later comes home to find his cat dead? for some reason? i don't know. it's all so painful.

[a graph of Ryan Gosling's characters, with bad to good as the X-axis and likable to unlikable as the Y-axis. Dan Dunne, the character in this movie, is in the "good, unlikable" quadrant.]

to pass the time i created this handy little chart, which puts Ken (Barbie) and Lars (Lars and the Real Girl) in the likable/good quadrant, with K (Blade Runner 2049) and Noah (The Notebook) slightly below them, Sierra Six (The Gray Man) and Dean (Blue Valentine) in the likable/bad quadrant, Jacob Palmer (Crazy Stupid Love) in the bad/unlikable quadrant (sorry i know i have followers who love this movie but womanizing just really pisses me off, even though he does grow as a character by the end), and Dan Dunne (Half Nelson) in the good/unlikable quadrant, even though i kind of changed my mind by the end of the movie.

i forgot Handsome Luke (Place Beyond the Pines) and the driver (Drive), but i think they'd both be close to the center but in the bad/likable quadrant.

For all this movie's faults, burnout drug addict middle school teacher Ryan Gosling pouring an entire pot of coffee into a thermos is a LOOK.

this scene had very little context and i have none to add.

[Ryan Gosling movie] checklist

shirtless

mommy issues

misunderstood loner

falls for cute blonde girl (CBG)

good guy made to do bad things

inappropriate relationship

still bored, i made a checklist. Ryan Gosling's characters are always at least three of these, with "shirtless" and "mommy issues" prevailing. also "cute blonde girl" isn't a description as much as a flat character type that fascinates me.

HE BUYS FROM HER WTF WTF WTF

okay during what i found to be a both boring and torturous film, a scene happens that made me go "oh, i get why he was nominated for an Oscar for this." Frank has gotten Drey to start selling for him, and she goes to a motel to drop off, where she finds two sex workers, some random guy, and her history teacher, Dan. this is the third time she's caught him using but he's always kind of guilty and apologetic about it, and my interpretation is that a lot of their "friendship" has to do with him trying to earn back her admiration. but this time, he's on the bathroom floor and he just gives her this look, the patented Ryan Gosling "i'm in love with you" look which is probably why he's the romantic lead in so many things, and hands her a wad of cash. and it's so wildly fucked up to see that look used in this context, weaponized, because it's not to her, it's to the baggie she's holding.

the whole movie is very much a critical commentary on white savior narratives. i have no idea if it's a successful commentary, or even if it's a good movie, but i can safely say i've never seen anything like it. i don't think it's aged well, overall i don't think it's Gosling's best performance even though many people believe it is, and i absolutely don't recommend it.

[rothjuje]

I forgot how insanely busy life is up here. January, February, and March are dead months. No one wants to do anything, the skies are grey, it’s too cold to play outside for long. April people start to come alive again, and May is an onslaught of events. There was an entire week where every day I was double-booked, I’m still recovering.

That’s probably the biggest culture shock to me. People think I’m antisocial and weird for not wanting to run from thing to thing to thing all the time. The amount of events and things to do here that everyone else is doing that I’m expected to do is crazy. The people pleaser in me is very quickly learning how to say no. I honestly don’t know how people have the energy to keep up. I think there is a collective burnout up here. People trying to do all the things all the time. I *mourned* when it was time for winter to take over. No one else did, and now I finally get why. Winter is a break from the madness here. And, honestly, I kind of miss it.

There have been so many things rattling around my brain this month that I’ve wanted to process on here, but I’ve been running around all day long and then dealing with 15 chickens in my basement and then promptly passing out from exhaustion.

I love life in New England, it’s a delicious adventure that makes my soul feel alive, but the FOMO is real. It’s a vibe up here. It’s such the culture that today instead of chilling with the kids at home, I took them to some crazy park, and this was without any social pressure, I just felt guilty/weird about relaxing at home because it feels like a sin here.

May 21st of last year was when we first saw this house in person. I remember looking at this house online and getting a weird vibe. I told Justin a few days before our house hunting trip that “there’s a house at the top of our budget in Georgetown but I think we could get it because it’s very dated for the price.” And that is exactly what happened. I am (so) relieved everything happened the way it did. I love Groton but it is so far from the beach and everything else. Plus we’ve made a few good friends in Georgetown and I’m not sure it would have happened so easily in Groton. And the size of our town is perfect, the surrounding towns are a bit too small (no real town center or restaurants) but Georgetown has its own school district, CVS, and several restaurants including Best Bagel which also has the best coffee (we have a DD too but their coffee is no bueno). I don’t think I could go back to living in a bigger town after this, Danvers feels like the city to me and I get panicky whenever I have to go to the Target there, real first world problems over here haha.

The chickens got so big so fast. We ended up with 4 roosters we had to rehome and it broke my heart. We were down to 11 but then I rescued a buff Orpington that was injured from a feed store. I named her Honey and she is the sweetest, smartest bird. I’m obsessed with my 12 ladies (well, 11 ladies and 1 gentleman that I am going to keep), I could watch them all day. They have such an interesting social structure, I had them in 3 separate brooders and all the birds from one brooder would stay together during group time with a very clear pecking order. It was like having 3 separate flocks of birds even though they all hung out for an hour every night. The girls from two brooders were moved to the coop this weekend and the girls are still in two separate groups of 4, they barely interact with each other. I was absolutely desperate to get them out of my basement but of course now that they are outside I am rather sad about it. I’m going to love on my 4 inside still and try not to get any bad ideas like ordering Polish hatching eggs off EBay…

[olderthannetfic]

This Goncharov debate is only circling back to the two issues your marvelous blog has put into question all year long. (years?)

One, we are facing a new generation of people that have no idea how to use the internet. If people google search for the movie, and the first result is the Wikipedia page for it, and they settle for that information alone, then obviously they don't know how to look for other sources of information that is not the already digested ones by either social media or Wikipedia. The second is known for being the target of trolls constantly messing with the entries every time some meme is blown out of proportion.

But I don't buy this explanation from some other anons. People are always championing for wokeness but get blinded by their wish of making everything safe because I just google it, and several results mention how all this is a big Tumblr joke. Come on kids, if you can get easily gaslighted by the internet, then this obviously means the people you defend or yourself, maybe need to learn how to navigate this. This has to do with fake news and that stuff, but I thought that only happened to my 68-year-old mum because her only source is Facebook. There are several articles already about how this is “reality internet/unreality/meme”.

Second. Mental illness. I don't mean to victim blame anyone, I suffer from mental illness too, bipolarity, OCD, and clinical depression. I have my bad days. But I am aware of my issues, and that's why I have to be self-aware and not engage with everything that makes me hurt. Once again we need to understand that the only safe space, is the one you create for yourself. The internet is not supposed to be monitored or censured, people can try to control it, but honestly, that would only kill the internet, they already are containing people with algorithms and fake news as it is. To use another meme. “You can't handle the truth”. But others do.

Now, some people are not self-aware of their mental illness, but why do we need to turn it into a responsibility for everyone?. This is the same issue as kids on the internet, I don't have kids, so why should I care about some random kid wandering unsupervised by his parents into the space I have created for myself?. If I had a kid, I certainly would NEVER give them free access to the internet, and when ready, I would teach them at least, how to use it. This is the same issue with people with severe mental illness. It's the responsibility of their families (not their friends either, being in charge of the health of a friend would turn into caregivers burnout).

I might sound extreme, but this is similar to giving a mentally ill person a Gun. People are saying that those kinds of individuals “loss their grip of reality” because of a meme, and in turn, this makes them self harm?, suicidal?....this is the same then as giving them something as dangerous as a weapon. Only people think there's nothing wrong, and it's harmless to have an internet connection.

But if it was, then we wouldn't be speaking about people getting hurt by a joke. But as with guns, those are tools too, it's not problem of the tool, but who is allowed to use one/carry one. People need to stop babying others on the internet, it's no one's duty to make it safe. It took me less than five posts down in my main to see people fighting about Goncharov’s plot differences to make me realize it was a meme.

Do you know what actually needs unreality tags?. Everything and everyone on Tiktok, like put a tag on the App. In fact, I constantly need reality checks every time I enter Instagram and I see an incredible hegemonical beauty on vacation on some paradise island. Influencers should tag themselves as unreality because they induce in me an existential crisis with their dreamlike perfect -from outside capitalist lives. Maybe the real problem is social media….Nah, lets blame the creative artsy game of those dorks instead…right?...

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