#he never learned how to do divorce so everyone is just stuck like this.

[bowenoke]

in scott's pov (ep7) he refers to scar as grian's husband. no one tells him this is not the case. this is because traffic!scott decides who is and is not married like some sort of contractually binding arbiter of love. to me anyways

[fruitcoops]

Clean Slate

Ah, the passage of time. If anyone has been here since the first phone call, you may be entitled to financial compensation (or an AARP membership). Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

“Reg?”

On the first ring, as always. “Hey.”

“…hi?”

“I was thinking about going back to Gryff for Christmas.”

“Oh.” Surprise, but pleasant surprise. Regulus shook his pan of sausage. “Yeah, sounds good. You always have a room here. Or were you staying with the cubs?”

“With you.” He stretched his neck from side-to-side. Tension bled out of his forehead and shoulders at the familiar roll of French on his tongue. “If that’s okay.”

“Always,” Sirius answered immediately, almost hasty. Regulus wasn’t sure they’d ever get past that. Ah, well. The damage was done.

The line remained quiet for a moment. Sausage sizzled, and he turned to the pile of green beans on the cutting board. Leo had taught him how to snap the ends off with his fingernails, and though he was better now about not chewing them to the quick, he still didn’t like the feeling of stuff stuck beneath them. Regulus had really only called to clarify plans.

“How—how are your friends?”

“Good.” Sirius liked to talk, even if he wasn’t very good at it. “Jax and Kris set up the living room last night.”

“Do they still have that stupid poster?”

Regulus snorted under his breath and carefully sliced the tip off another bean. “They tried to hang it in the window.”

Sirius groaned.

Regulus grinned. He supposed he could have a little mercy. “Don’t worry, it’s under my bed.”

“Somehow, that’s worse.”

“I can’t get rid of it. It’s their favorite possession. They have a thing for your long hair and the murder face. Jax is still waiting for the day you spontaneously get divorced and need a hot young college student to rebound.”

He wasn’t sure whether the gagging sound Sirius made was real or exaggerated. As long as he was in mild torment, Regulus was happy. A simple, ever-amusing perk of long-distance communication.

“I hope your classmates are less in tune with pop culture.”

“Hockey, yes. Pop culture, no.” Regulus eyed the pan, then added another knob of butter to be safe. There was nothing worse than a burnt vegetable. “And my classes are going well, thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome.”

He rolled his eyes. It didn’t matter that Sirius couldn’t see it; the message would certainly get through.

“Don’t make that face at me.”

“I’m not making a face.”

“You always make faces.”

Regulus stuck his tongue out at the microwave above the stove.

“I can feel you doing it again.”

“That was a different one. I’m taking physics 3 this year and it’s making me want to eat a doorknob already.”

“You’re anemic enough that it would probably help.”

“I take my supplements!” Regulus argued, shaking his pan. “Not my fault we were force-fed protein in fucking sun-less Canada.”

“We had sun, you just never went outside,” Sirius countered, like it was some sort of argument. “I don’t have to take supplements.”

“Well, you’re perfect and bulletproof, as everyone knows.”

“Exactly.”

Regulus angled his face at the dark phone screen when he pulled a face this time. It was a good one. Pity that Sirius couldn’t see it. He should’ve gone for FaceTime.

“Are you starting a fire?”

“I’m making dinner.”

“So…yes?”

“Not all of us have a home cook.”

“I can cook now.”

“Oh, you’ve been housebroken.” Regulus blew out a mouthful of steam as he tested a piece of sausage. “How thrilling for Lupin.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one. I learned that last week.”

He could feel Sirius shaking his head. “Knutty is formally banned from teaching you new slang.”

“You’ve never said ‘no’ to him in his entire career.” Regulus let the line hang silent for another half-minute as he turned the burner off and began scraping his dinner into a bowl. It still bore a faint orange tinge from last year’s finals-week spaghetti run. He fished a piece of pasta out of the water and popped it in his mouth, grimacing at the heat on his tongue. It was cooked well enough—at least, he was hungry enough to forgive a more al dente texture.

“By the way,” he started, as if his stomach wasn’t stuttering. “I think I’ll be back in time for family skate.”

The shuffling sounds on Sirius’ end came to an abrupt halt. “That’s nice,” came the faux-casual answer.

Anxiety made a valiant effort to claw up and silence his tongue. “I was thinking about going.”

“Well,” Sirius began, then paused. Regulus swallowed a few times to clear the block in his throat while Sirius pondered. “I—yeah, sounds good.”

“I want to.”

“Good.” Sirius’ relief was audible. “Okay, good. You can change your mind.”

“Don’t be weird about it,” Regulus ordered as he toed his slippers on and made his way to the apartment’s tiny coffee table. They’d get chairs at some point, but for now three pillows sat on the floor beside it.

“I’m never weird.”

“Boo, liar.”

“Freak.”

“I’m telling Lupin.”

“Do it. He likes me better. I can cook.”

“I’m—” Regulus caught himself at the last second and felt Sirius’ breath hitch on the other end of the line in anticipation. “—not joking, I actually want to go and play stupid ice fetch with your irritating friends, and nobody is making me feel pressured.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t sound so…” He wrinkled his nose and stuffed a mouthful of pasta into his mouth. “Smiley.”

“It’ll be good to have you home.”

“If you’re weird, I’m staying with Leo,” Regulus threatened. “For real, this time.”

“Right, because you love being around people who are engaged and anywhere near a holiday, or mistletoe, or the magic of Christmas—”

His loud groan silenced Sirius’ words, but not his laughter. “Get your laughs in now, before I whoop your ass on the ice.”

“Would love to see you try.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled.”

“Everyone else is going to underestimate you. I won’t be nice like that.”

“You’re never nice,” Regulus lied.

Sirius let him eat in peace until he was scraping the last bits of cheese from the bottom of the bowl. He heard the faint beeping of the dishwasher buttons in the background and glanced at his own sink, nearly overflowing with haphazard dishes from the first chaotic weeks of their senior year. The apartment was a pleasant change from living on campus, such as it was. Jax and Kris had offered to pay rent—tried to strongarm him, really—but a few withering looks had finally made them relent. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was his. Theirs.

The string lights lining the ceiling weren’t strictly allowed, but Regulus liked their gentle blue cast. The blanket Remus and Sirius had sent as a housewarming gift sat cozily on the back of their couch. Curtains from Jax’s mother let in just the right amount of light in the mornings.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

The sound of Sirius’ voice in his earbuds startled him. “Yeah,” Regulus said. “Yeah, sure.”

“Even for laundry.” Sirius tried for wry, and it made Regulus crack a small smile, but it was gentler than either of them intended. “Don’t shrink your clothes. Check the tags.”

Always do, he thought, but kept it down. “Good advice. No centipedes here, yet.”

Sirius’ laugh was a little weak. “You’re just not looking hard enough.”

“Eugh, don’t say that.” Regulus blinked fast, tipping his head toward the ceiling. “Hey, this washer even has a ‘normal’ setting, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, wow. Lucky you.”

Picking up the phone on the first ring, always. For four years straight. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”

“We can come up in October, if you want.”

Of course Sirius had the academic calendar on-hand. “I’ll be gone that weekend with the guys. We didn’t want to be around all the new parents. They’re very damp.”

“And you melt when water touches you, of course.”

“Of course.”

Sirius let out a quiet breath. “See you at Christmas, Reg. Call me when you have flights.”

“Mhm.”

“Stay safe.”

“Always do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do here,” he corrected.

“Fine.”

“Miss you.” The streetlights down the road were just starting to come on. “Say hi to Lupin for me.”

“He’s in the other room,” Sirius offered. “You can say it yourself.”

“I’ll talk to you both enough at Christmas.”

“Call any time. And let us know when you hear back about graduation tickets.”

What a terrifying thought to leave for the end of the call. “I’ll forward it to you.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Okay. Bye.” And before he could second-guess himself—“I’ll be home soon.”

“Don’t talk to strangers,” Sirius answered. Regulus heard the truth under it. “And do your laundry.”

[jamiesfootball]

After careful consideration and a lot of angry tags, I think I have pinpointed for me where Ted Lasso, especially season three, fails to succeed all the way at the themes it explores.

The narrative uses the deconstruction of toxic masculinity to paint their characters as being stronger for having let go of their preconceived notions of acceptable behavior - but the narrative also never lets their characters be weak or fragile without having toxic masculinity to blame. And there are a lot of situations in this show where you would expect someone to go ‘hey man, are you okay? Are you doing alright? because that was a shit thing that happened. it’s okay if you’re not okay.’

And it never does.

There’s an undercurrent in how scenes play out that suggests that the male characters should be strong enough to deal with hand they’ve been dealt. The narrative suggests that they’re the ones who need corrected. They can act better, but they can not be treated better themselves as a result. The male characters are allowed to express themselves, but they are not allowed to ask for anything back from the situation.

Which is why you can have a fight with your assistant coach, but when he comes back to apologize you don’t articulate how it made you feel. You don’t tell your friend how he hurt your feelings. You just accept it and move on.

The Diamond Dogs give advice on how to handle external problems with  emotional roots. They never discuss how they feel internally on its own merit.

The closest we got to a male character just having a bad one and expressing it without a clear source of external conflict? Jamie in the boot room. And that was played for laughs.

Which is why you could be in a deep depression over losing your career of twenty years and part of your mobility, I guess. But also maybe that’s a problem of you not being able to let go, and maybe you should apologize for not moving on sooner? We should pity Roy for getting so stuck in his own shit all the time. Not because the man has lived an incredibly stressful and emotionally isolated life in a high pressure environment for so long he doesn’t have the tools to deal with it, but because the narrative would like us to know if he just stopped getting in his own way all the time, this wouldn’t be a problem.

Is your ex-wife seeing someone else, who happens to also be the person who was your marriage counselor? I don’t know man, relationships are hard. Don’t worry about how hard that must have shaken your trust in a profession that already made you feel skittish. Maybe you should stop obsessing over her and move on.

Your girlfriend can tell all your friends and coworkers how you’re too smothering. Yes, this is the ‘learn how to communicate better’ show, but that was on you, really. Good on you for apologizing for smothering her.

The women may have worrying relationships with people who love bomb them or turn out to be controlling, but Jane and Beard are just a bit weird. Don’t worry about it, Higgins.

You can take accountability for your actions, but if it was your email who was hacked - who cares? You apologized, and everyone is very proud of you. We won’t ever bring up how incredibly mortifying that must have been for you to realize, because something more mortifying happened to someone else.

You can show your emotions, but not the angry ones, not the bad ones - those you should get a hold on, no matter how warranted they are. The stronger you are, the more divorced from toxic masculinity you are, the less those things should matter.

Struggling with your abusive dad and how his relationship with you has literally scared you so badly that you keep looking over your shoulder, afraid he’ll be there? That is clearly the anger talking. This is definitely not a situation that calls for your pseudo-father figure to put his hand on your shoulder, look you in the eye, and say, “i’m really sorry to hear that, son, but you know we got your back. Ain’t nothing bad gonna happen to you while we’re here.” 

No no, this is a you problem and you can correct it by forgiving that man who hurt you. In fact, you thank him for motivating you. It was the anger that got you this far. It wasn’t getting up at 4am every morning for extra training. It wasn’t your mentor, the one invested all his time in helping you. It wasn’t the coach who gave you a second chance when you blew your whole life up to get away from that man. It wasn’t your own drive and passion and love for the sport that pushed you towards succeeding in a career you only had a one-in-a-million chance of ever getting. No, it was the anger that carried you. You should let that go. And hey - what if hypothetically speaking, he might try to be better too one day? You can’t hold it against him. You should let that go too.

Breakdowns and displays of crying are fine, but expecting people to care or show concern afterwards? The narrative doesn’t know her. The narrative will not validate that. We don’t see what happened after Wembley. We don’t see what happened when Isaac came back to the locker room after blowing up. What the show will validate, however, is moving on. Just be a goldfish, or forgive and forget. 

And finally-

Embrace your feelings, but not too hard - you can’t be trusted with them, actually.

Can you imagine that we actually got a scene of Roy telling Jamie that he was worried if either of them pursued Keeley it might ruin their friendship? Can you imagine? From the beginning they have butted heads. From the beginning, Roy has struggled to actually articulate his feelings, especially to the people they involve. And here is Roy doing exactly what the narrative has been teaching him to do - he voiced a feeling that was bothering him to the person who was involved in the problem. Unprompted. He did that on his own. After three seasons of being told that is what he should do when he has a problem, that should have been the moment of narrative reward. That would have been the audience’s release of tension: they’re still at odds, they’re still the same bull-headed people they’ve always been, but they’ve learned to talk about it. No matter what happens next, at least, they’ve gotten this far.

Instead the narrative rewarded him, and us, by having them fight it out in a back alley. Because they’re idiots, and they can’t be trusted to handle their feelings without someone else in the narrative (Keeley) setting them straight.

Yes, people backslide in real life all the time. But when the narrative backslides at the very end of the story - that’s just nihilism. That’s what this felt like - all that progress and promise that you can be better, and two of the people who struggled the most tripped at the finish line. The audience don’t even get to see them pick back up. I mean they’re fine now, I guess. They went for kebabs. I have to assume it worked out. I guess after that they found a way to be happy, but I would have preferred to see them find a way to be happy by way of their own actions. Not in a fanfic. Not by way of imagining how it went afterwards. Not by what’s implied in a montage. By the story actually showing me they could get there on their own.

And the worst part about all of this is that when the show gets it right? It fucking sings. The team coming together to repair Ola’s? That sings. Ted’s ‘ain’t nobody in this room alone’ speech? Wonderful. Trent telling Colin that ‘some people need time to adjust; it’s not fair, but they do’? So delicately wielded, so painful. Beard’s speech to Nate about stealing a loaf of meth? Chef’s kiss. Ted forgiving Rebecca when he learns why she brought him to coach Richmond? The tears in his eyes when he tells her ‘divorce is hard’?

The hug at Wembley.

That’s what I wanted, from start to finale. When the show knew how to wield its empathy, it wielded it like a knife, cutting into the deepest parts of your heart.

Which is why when it does mess up, it hurts so much worse. Because by season three, the show has sunk so far into the deconstruction of things that it’s forgotten that what it fixed were not the only problems those characters ever faced. The show zoomed in too close on the themes. It forgot that at its roots, the its biggest strength has been its empathy. And that to me is where the show failed.

[binbitch]

im so sorry but chris finding out will be eddie's breaking point, because how do you, really, trust your dad again once he brings some woman that looks identical to your mom, whom you have only just started to grieve properly, to your hose when he is in a relationship. and this is not me saying eddie is a bad parent because i dont think so, what i do think is that eddie is grieving in the most fucked up way possible and that leads to him doing things he wouldnt do otherwhise.

lets think back to the other two most dark moments of eddie what were his reactions.

his wife, who he had a complicated relationship with, just came back into his and chris life after a while she realizes that she has to learn to be a mother and then to be a wife so she asks for divorce. a day later she is hit by a car and dies IN EDDIES ARMS. later, his bestfriend gets crashed by a fucking fire truck, and LATER his son and his bestfriend get stuck in a tsunami. he react by letting out his anger, sadness, worries and everything else by JOINING AN ILLEGAL FIGHT CLUB. does that sound like the most sane guy ever?

he gets shot, never speaks about it until his son breaks down because he is afraid his dad will die, what does he do? he quits his job to get a desk job where he is not fullfilled. BUT he does go to therapy, there his therapist tries to talk to him about his army days where he saved a convoy of people. he is really struggling so he tries raching out to the people he saved and turns out everyone is dead, everyone he risked his life saving is now dead. what does he do? he shuts himself off and gets to a point where he is in such a bad place where he grabs a baseball bat and smashes his whole room while his son is outside his door begging him to listen to him. his son is so afraid that he call his bestfriend to help.

now that we have that already established, i do think chris is going to be taken away from eddie in some way or form. no i dont think his parents will come and take chris's custody but i do think the isolation that rg talked about for s8 eddie, could be him going to texas for a while to recconec with chris and to have some time to reasses his life.

[bruhstation]

Any fun facts on your bigg city cast you would like to share?

Can you share how you wrote fortezza bigg city. Such as inspiration and resources you found?

of course! I have a lot to share too (copy pasting some of these from my google docs, haha!)

their nicknames are their boats' names. conveniently, some of them are quite fitting for their sailors.

example: "ten cents" because he always asks to borrow a dime from his coworkers (and seldom returns them), "top hat" because he never goes anywhere without it, "hercules" because it's derived from his real name, "zip" because its both his given name and has a plethora of meaning in the dictionary (he was named first, then his boat), "boomer" because of its literal meaning and because he started going by his boat's unceremoniously changed name, etc.

they all refer to their boats with "she/her" pronouns.

zip doesn't know big words and talks simply and concisely. he knows how to read, though slowly, but is still learning how to write. he reads many children's books that are easy to digest in both story and words, like pollyana, pinocchio, heidi, the wonderful wizard of oz, and various children's fables. he also likes doing word puzzles like crosswords and word searches from newspapers.

zorran knows how to forge other people's handwriting, making him an even more valuable asset to captain zero.

top hat's family runs a boutique. he dresses and acts like an upper class socialite, much to his parents' disapprovement.

the bridge cafe is a popular hangout place for bigg city port's sailors. the members of the star fleet and z-stacks meet each other here coincidentally. navies also stuck around the bridge cafe when they got stationed in bigg city port like bluenose and grampus, much to the annoyance of everyone.

captain zero and captain star got married in 1909, at age 25. they got divorced in 1931, at age 47.

the reason? captain got involved with criminals for money, basically lying about his job as a normal, well-adjusted businessman who’s probably involved with bigg city port’s mafia or other mercenaries, so captain star divorced him. both because he’s a patriotic navy at the time and because captain zero has created more than enough lies for captain star to handle. other people got dragged into the aftermath of their divorce and lies. also they're not beating the mid dad allegations

captain star and captain zero rarely show up in person. they're very careful of their public appearance.

the z-stacks are part of something bigger. zip doesn't know this.

johnny cuba has some blackmail on captain zero.

ten cents and zip are thomas' grandparents.

zorran is diesel's grandfather.

regarding the story, here are some (fun) facts I want to share.

themes of names, youth, and freedom will be prevalent.

fortezza bigg city is set in 1938. the narrator is captain star. the stories are excerpts from his diaries.

if you’ve been following me for a while and paid attention to casa tidmouth, I aim to make FBC the foil to CSTM. it’s similar but also different to casa tidmouth. both feature regular, unremarkable people who are just doing their jobs while juggling with their environmental threat and conflicting relationships with their loved ones. the difference is that CSTM has more of a mystery urban fantasy feeling to it (gold dust, sodor's 70s tech in the year 1999, lady’s patrons who are keeping secrets from their loved ones, etc) while FBC has more of a realistic background to it (interwar era, criminal backgrounds, the great depression, etc)

the titles of both works are italian. casa means home. fortezza means fortress.

a lot of literature I've read are inspirations for fortezza bigg city. demian, catcher in the rye, moby dick, the little prince, l'etranger, watership down are some of them. emil sinclair's character and his relationship with frau eva and franz kromer helped me write zip. you can say that ten cents is his max demian wait who said that.

many of t*tsuki f*jimoto's works are huge inspirations for fortezza bigg city, and my works as a whole. ch*insaw m*n, g*odbye eri, m*rmaid rhapsody, and f*re punch are some of it. the way he writes adolescents and their complex relationships with their parental figures became a great help to me. I also write from my personal experiences and thoughts, especially regarding the captains' relationships with their youngest members. (here's some panels from g*odbye eri that stuck with me)

h*useki no kuni is also an inspiration, but its effects are not as big as the one in casa tidmouth.

many clothing resources are taken from vintagedancer, old magazines, photos, leyendecker's works, and even my university's library. here are some of my favorites.

despite the way I've described captain star's relationship with TC and captain zero's relationship with zorran+zip and the overall setting of it, I want FBC to have a more hopeful feeling to it. I have a vision of making FBC some kind of crime comedy (it's hard to describe the genres of my stories)

I think that's all I have to say for now!

[boxwinebaddie]

Has Raven/Jersey ever broken a bone?

alright, *cracks knuckles*

this one goes out to sickfic princess ana and whumpwhiz rp.

*blows a kiss to the heavens bc they're angels* MWAH!

but aaaaany-knee-ways:

...it's interesting, actually.

( or at least, it is to me, darling. )

because of how he's written, you'd think probably think, 'oh, but nina! jerseykyle gets in all these fights. he's all big and tough and strong! he prolly breaks bones all the time!" and that's precisely IT, my dear!

jersey breaks bones;

he does not get his bones broken.

EVER.

and i suppose that's because he is a seasoned fighter. ergo, he knows how to throw a wicked punch, where exactly on your body it will hurt or humiliate you the most -- probably a combination of the two if he's feeling particularly pissed that day ( everyday ) -- how many times to do it, where you're vulnerable, sees everyone as a possible adversary and thus, weaponizes the moment he sees you, surveys you, sizes you up, indicates what kind of threat you are and…

Promptly Neutralizes You.

he takes all these precautions, runs all these tedious, elaborate tests and intense, premeditated processes of elimination ( literally ), not just because he does not like losing, which he doesn't...but because he literally can't. simply put: he does not know how to lose or get hit.

see, jersey does not cope with pain very well. mentally or physically. that's why he inflicts pain, because he is secretly scared of feeling it.

on the outside, he is a harsh, frightening, impenetrable, menacing thing covered in barbs and wires and armed heavily, because on the inside he is extremely fragile and should even the smallest chink in his armor form, his entire fierce façade will shatter into smithereens.

he does not like to get hurt, to feel weak, to feel unpleasant and horrible things, so he does everything in his power to be powerful so that he will never feel powerless. it's why he learned how to fight, it wasn't to hit people, it was to avoid being hit by other people. it was a defense mechanism because of how often he got bullied and how weak he constantly was from swimming out against the current of all his chronic illnesses. a lot of people would just let go of that short stick that life gave them and drown, but not kyle. not my baby. no, his life belongs to him. so he sharpened that stick into the shiv...

stuck it straight through the gut of life,

— and made god beg for HIS mercy.

but yes, it's all a perfectly placed show. because my boy, scary and frightening as he may be swinging those freckled fists of fury...

is a fucking WUSS.

who has not broken a lot of bones actually! not his anyways! because when he does lose a fight, he is a sore fucking loser indeed because he's suddenly hit with all this pain that he does not know how to endure or deal with and literally is such a baby and a princess, omg.

i /swear/ that WHOLE divorce whumpshot para and the one of him barfighting is him acting really tough and cool, but hes really like hooly shit, this sucks so fkn Bad, i hate this, i want my mOM!! :'(

riiiiiiiiiip, lmaooooo.

spoiler alert: jersey kyle is dainty and spoiled. he is a champion complainer and if gets a papercut...

you will hear about it.

trust.

conversely, however...lead singer ravenstan,

is very Quiet about pain.

ravenstan knows pain like the back of his hands, he, unfortunately, has had hands on him his entire life and where kyle learned to kick and claw and bite, stan just...internalized and endured all that pain.

he isn't brutal or vicious, he is kind and forgiving, he does not hurt things even if they are hurting him and has been hurt so much that being hurt is as easy as breathing to him…which is horrible because he has asthma and a lot of smoke-related respiratory damage.

but yeah, i actually ( god, i love you ravenstan ) want to scream because where jersey is hard outside and soft inside, raven is soft outside and hard inside and is extremely good at being hurt, ( a child weaned on pain thinks hurt is a comfort, rip ), will take pretty much anything you throw at him and because he literally does not want to inconvenience you...will not even indicate that he's hurt to you.

like he is very passionate about protecting and taking care of other people, but he does not care at all about himself or what happens to him, so if you're hurt, he is on his hands and knees, comforting you, placating you, doing whatever he can to help you...and he might have three bullets in his back, you wouldn't know until he started bleeding through his clothes and fell over. that man is a fucking TANK, guys.

the universe has tried to kill ravenstan...several tries.

( suicide tw, he has also tried a couple times </3 )

no such luck.

it helps that he actually has a surprising amount of off-hand medical knowledge because sharon transferred a lot of it onto him during stan's childhood when she was patching him up because he was a fkn disaster child who tracked mud and blood into her house 25/8, spent three days in a tree and took a hockey puck to the face.

i genuinely think that a large part of why stan was able to survive and endure a lot of the horrors he had was because sharon scolding him in spanish and teaching him stuff literally saved his fucking life.

but yeah, ravenstan is my selfless, accident prone king. he is such a mess, pilots his body so carelessly that it is legitimately frightening. he is constantly covered in bruises he doesn't remember getting, scratches he didn't even notice, does dumb shit and gets hurt and like literally can’t tell he's hurt until he is like abt to pass out.

tldr: rave gets hurt often and has broken a lot of bones.

usually because he's doing stupid, heroic shit.

for example, i am not sure how it got broken, i like to think it was at a concert or an event and he SAVED SOMEONE from something falling or what have you and broke the fuck out of his arm. so his arm was in a cast ( i need it to be hot pink ) and he was super bummed out and felt hella bad because he had a meet and greet and couldn't sign autographs so he just let everyone else...

give him Their autograph instead.

so no one got a personally signed picture of raven of crimson dawn, but much cooler, imo, was that they all personally signed his cast.

my eyes are leaking, lmao. branch in my eyeeee. ;-;

gods...sweet...sweet angel. uGh.

THIS IS SO LONG, BUT I HOPE THIS ANSWERS YOUR QUESTION! idk why i got so invested in this, omg, but thank you for asking and being curious and thank you all for being so lovely and asking me things. it means a lot to me that you care and know i adore you.

-uncle nina, jerseykyle inflictor of angst pain

( and major wuss ) >.>

[wendytestabrat]

why i resonated with stan in “you’re getting old/ass burgers” (FROM THE VAULT [2020])

You’re Getting Old/Ass Burgers has always been one of my favorite South Park episodes because I feel like I’ve always connected to it on so many levels and related to Stan a lot. My favorite part is the end of part 2 (Ass Burgers) after Stan was so depressed and had been seeing shit for so long he came to the realization that he DIDN’T want things to go back to the way they were. He realized he was fine with his parents getting a divorce and Kyle ditching him to go fuck Cartman because it opened his life up to new possibilities of where it could go. In his words he’s all like “I’m gonna make a big left turn” or whatever. The ending is also frustrating tho bc everything ended up going back to normal anyways so we didn’t get to see how that would’ve played out, but we’re not gonna talk about that we’re just gonna talk about the beautiful speech Stan made. That part has always resonated with me so much bc I agree with Stan. I remember at a certain age I just got to a point where I realized that the key to staying happy and optimistic is to stay open-minded and keep trying new things. I think it’s rlly important in life to follow those child-like curiosities you have when you’re a kid, when you’re younger you’re excited about everything and want to know about the whole world and how everything works, and I think it’s good to continue that mindset into adulthood. For me personally, I get really depressed easily if I feel like I’m stuck in one place, following the same routine and doing the same shit over and over, like that’s the point when everything starts to turn to shit to me too. It’s good to add some excitement and spontaneity to your life, and I know it can be hard for a lot of people to get out of their comfort zones, trust me I get this sometimes I can be a stubborn bitch and I only wanna stay in the same lane doing the same thing over and over, but trying new things and embracing change is what builds character. Sometimes life can seem scary, especially when you’re young and you don’t have everything figured out, but the truth is life just gets easier the more and more you challenge yourself to get out of your comfort zone and try things, it makes you more fearless. The more you can gain knowledge and wisdom about different aspects of life the easier you have it figured out, and this all comes with allowing yourself to get excited about new things, expanding your interests and having an open-mind. And when I say trying something new it can be big or small. It can just simply be deciding to learn about something new each day, deciding to read a new book, watching a tv show or a movie you’ve never seen before, starting a new hobby, meeting new people (I know this one is a bad example bc everyone is social distancing LMAOO), for me I really love discovering new songs and listening to artists I haven’t heard before. I mean the risk that goes into trying something new is that maybe you won’t like it and sometimes we can have that mindset where we’re like “this is gonna suck” so we don’t even bother, but you never know until you try, and you can still have an opinion on something you don’t like too. (I can’t count how many times I’ve suffered watching something awful I could not care about but I did it anyways out of curiosity. Also NEVER form an opinion on something you know nothing about or shit on something you know nothing about or else you sound ignorant.) But open-mindedness and being able to adapt to change and trying new things is really the key to staying well-rounded and happy and fulfilled. Having a lot of interests also makes it a lot easier to be able to talk to a lot of different people about different things and make real fulfilling connections. So yeah to me, what Stan said was actually very wise and I agree with him because it’s kind of been my go-to philosophy on life.

update 2024: i’m starting to realize now that my constant need for stimulation and new experience is prob just my sociopathicness FFHJDJSJS bc i get bored of shit way quicker now than i did before

[annas-hair-donut]

Here's a little snippet from my upcoming Kristanna Valentine's Day fic!

She Holds a Candle (T)

Kristoff twists his hands on the steering wheel as he glares at the hearts and cupids sprinkled across the brightly colored Oaken’s Bath & Sauna Works signs. He might have said they were cute if they weren’t specifically designed to take advantage of people who don’t know any better.

Kristoff knows better, though, and he knows that as soon as he walks in the door, at least one beautiful salesperson will descend upon him and try to convince him he should go home with more than he came in for. Maybe they even believe the lie that buying more saves money.

He rolls his eyes as he steps out of the truck. Unfortunately, he’d been there before, and since he got divorced a few years ago, he never had any intention of going back.

But Valentine’s Day is a few days away and his daughter Stephanie’s giant heart is broken. Apparently, the boy she liked didn't feel like it was enough just to turn her down; he had to tell everyone at school that her voice slipped into falsetto when she asked him to the dance.

Kristoff wants to clobber that asshole for making her feel ashamed of being who she is. Not to mention Kristoff had spent about $350 on new clothes for Christmas that she now won’t wear.

She came out as trans right around the time Kristoff's ex-wife left, but she’d only just started dressing like a girl the past couple of months. And now she’s back to wearing jeans and baggy t-shirts; no more flower hair clips and heart earrings. And she's barely spoken in days.

It’s not like Kristoff knows anything about raising a girl; it would have been nice if his ex-wife had stuck around to help Stephanie with those kinds of things. She should have been teaching her how to style her hair and paint her toenails. But Lisa's timing was the worst, and even though Stephanie never mentions it, he knows she misses having a mom.

One thing Kristoff did learn from Lisa was that Oaken’s Bath & Sauna Works is the best place to get girly things that are more symbolic than useful. And that’s what Kristoff needs: a token to show Stephanie that she’ll always be his little girl.

And if it means wading through the sea of Oaken's sirens wearing green aprons, he’ll do it.

💕💕💕

A nauseating mix of scents assaults Kristoff’s nose as soon as he walks in, and a cheerful woman shouts, “Welcome in!”

Kristoff searches for the disembodied voice just so he can avoid it.

“We’re having a Valentine’s Day sale today! Buy three full-size body care items, get three free!”

Kristoff stares at her pink freckled face, with ginger hair tied into braids hanging loosely in front of her shoulders. Her blue-green eyes set his stomach in knots, which only tighten when she blinks.

It's worse when he looks down. Her apron is tied just in the right place to emphasize her figure, but it's the tiny sparkly rainbow that catches his attention.

Kristoff lifts his eyes quickly and she smiles sweetly. “Can I help you find something special today?”

How many people have gone home with bags of wasted products because she smiled at them like that?

“I’m good.”

"Well, I'm Anna! Let me know if you have any questions."

He thumbs his nose as he walks around her, not even bothering with the basket she offers him.

💕💕💕

Special thank you to @livseses for their help with this! 💕

[scythemichaelfaraday]

I am once again realizing that engaging with anything JTHM related while actively struggling with many mental illnesses is in fact bad for my health.

Under the cut: a love letter to JTHM with a side of divorce papers. Also an apology to anyone in the community who I've hurt directly or indirectly.

I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I found a space for JTHM in my life when I really needed it to find me. It helped me find my best friend, my spouse, and many cool people who have made all sorts of impacts on my life.

It helped me feel seen when I was struggling with coming to terms with the "darker" and "scarier" symptoms (homicidal ideation, delusions, paranoia) of my disorders. It helped me feel like I wasn't alone in my despair and my anger and angst.

It helped me process when I lost my sister to suicide. It helped me explicitly write out my darkest fantasies of violently killing the people who kept my sister from coming home from the morgue. It helped me take out all of my pain and trauma out on a single individual that already was hurting so deeply, so why not hurt him more. But as time has gone on, I've realized that I have distanced myself farther and farther from the source. I've created a Johnny of my own- one different but cut from the same cloth of Jhonen's. It became unclear to me where I started and Johnny began. I integrated so much of myself into my version of how I wrote and drew Johnny that it started to seem more like a mirror than a self-portrait.

I cut my hair like him. I wore similar clothes. I acted in a similar manner. I imagined myself looking like him when people perceived me, despite being... 5'1", filipino, and not-at-all thin.

I had a dilemma, I wanted to be him, but I also wanted him to be more like me.

I styled his hair to be more like mine: less spiky, more soft, rounded, full with my current (constantly changing hair color) to match. I gave him my glasses. I put him in my clothes. I gave him undiagnosed chronic pain, then MCTD, then fibromyalgia. I gave him a cane. I gave him self harm scars in the exact same places mine are. I later gave him my "sexuality" (both in terms of orientation and otherwise) and my gender identity. He has my Bipolar, BPD, PTSD, ADHD, ED, Anxiety, etc. And finally, I gave him my partner, or at least the characters that my partner also furnished for themself.

At this point in my journey of mental health, I can say that I've turned Johnny into quite the projection. Even before I met my current partner, I gave him a spouse and kids, things that I vehemently denied wanting, but secretly desired to be stable enough to have. Well... less so the kids.

I wanted him to recover in the same way that I wanted and still want to. Not to be "fixed." There is no fixing mental illness, just treating it and learning how to live with it. Fucking up and fixing along the way. Just like I gave him those other things, I inserted a support system into his life; I gave him a family; I gave him a purpose outside of the one that Jhonen made him for and... it felt freeing but it also felt scandalous. Sacrilegious. Forbidden.

I was so afraid that people would see the Johnny I "created" and shun him and by extension, me. "He's out of character. He would never say that. This is who he is. This is who he is only allowed to be."

As someone with Borderline, I internalized the outcry of OOC as an attack against my constantly fractured sense of identity and kept myself stuck in the ways I always were. I believed that in order to stay within the community/fandom, I would have to stay as sick and as disordered as possible or else I'd be an outsider someone who just "doesn't get it." Someone who "doesn't get Johnny."

And maybe I do, maybe I don't. Maybe there really isn't "getting" Johnny in the same way for everyone, but this isn't about that.

On the opposite hand, when I became more secure in my recovery (or at least during a phase of it) I was more defensive of my depictions. That other people were talking about me behind my back, that I was pariah of sorts that dared to think differently. I thought: these people want to stay stuck, they want Johnny to stay stuck. They engage in these things that are so sickening and awful. Why can't they be like me and just hurt themselves?!

Then, someone's response to it made me realize that I was no better no different than them. What gave me the right to judge people for how they coped with their trauma and disorders? My cutting, my vent art, and interaction with the same exact media was just the same as them engaging in a community that while I still wouldn't become a part of, I have newfound respect for. We are all just trying to fucking cope with our awful lives and experiences and I had and have NO RIGHT to judge them for it.

So to be crystal clear without naming names: I am sorry for what I've said about people who engage with the TCC. I am sorry for what I've said regarding people liking Jimmy. I have not sent anon hate or any hate to people who like Jimmy, but I have made comments such as "liking X is like you being the Jimmy" and thus have contributed to the fandom's hostility towards people who like Jimmy. It is through these people that I've discovered that there is a lot more nuance than I can personally appreciate for the character. I may not like him still, but I do respect and admire anyone who can find comfort in him or otherwise.

Since then, it's been a journey of accepting that from the start, I have engaged with the community from a standpoint of mental illness. Much like someone forms a trauma bond with a friend or acquaintance, I trauma-bonded with JTHM and have been "married" to it for 7 (heh heh) long, complicated years. It's been my personality, my identity, my story, my thoughts, my everything. I didn't lose myself in JTHM, because I never knew who I was, and I still don't. But remaining married to it has severely impeded my ability to learn who I am.

I did character analysis after character analysis. I combed through every last page, read every last note Jhonen wrote, turned the book over and over to read the hidden messages in the borders. I tried to parse who Johnny is, who he wants to be, his likes, dislikes, his dreams, nightmares, fears, everything. I asked him everything about himself, but I didn't once turn those questions towards myself directly.

I want to learn who Zzy is. What Zzy wants. What Zzy likes, dislikes, fears, aspires to, everything. And with this final step towards freedom from JTHM, I think that I am ready to learn who they are. Or at least, try. I want to try for them.

This doesn't mean that I will be leaving behind the Johnny I've built, but rather that I will work towards making him something of my own rather than the extension of something that was never mine to begin with. I love the world and story I've built with him too much.

So thank you, JTHM, thank you Jhonen, for giving me some serious pain food to chew on. My monster's teeth have been continually sharpened and worn down all these years thanks to your help, but I think I can take it from here. I will never forget the awesome people you've connected me with, the experiences you've granted me, and the relief you've offered.

However, we also have not been good to or for each other. I made you into everything about me. I forced you into every corner of my life. You convinced me to abandon all hope of wellness and manipulated me into the temptation to stay with you even when I knew it'd be better to distance ourselves. You kept me from discovering myself in some of my most formative years. These are things that will take a while to recover from. And these are things that cause me to tell you that we are done.

This isn't goodbye forever, but this is sayonara for now.

[earl-grey-love]

Everyone in the office thinks that Emmett, my mad m. s/i, is in love with Joan. And that's true, since in S1 he spends all his time blatantly admiring her. (And for the rest of the show too). Including Joan, who does think he's lovely. But the thing is, he'd never fit into her ambitions. Major show spoilers btw.

Joan is chasing the "dream". Her idea of success is to get married to a handsome man who can provide for her, so she can leave the work place forever. This is what she wants more than anything. Emmett isn't able to do that for her. And they both know that, so there's no way she would ever choose him. No matter how much they may like each other.

Joan does go on to marry a man who does fit that bill. However, like all aspects of the american dream, it doesn't work out the way she thought it would. Especially not in a decade where society is starting to undergo a drastic change. Despite this, and the slight resentment Emmett has, he supports her through everything.

Meanwhile, he becomes best friends with Ken. They're similar but contrasting in the way Ken shamelessly flirts around while Em seems stuck on unrequited love, but they're both gentle creatives at their core. It's unclear exactly when Em falls in love with Ken, but it's likely sooner rather than later. Once again he fell for someone who won't want him, but he really doesn’t care.

This continues for a painfully long time (like 4 seasons!). It's a stalemate it seems until one day Ken abruptly discovers two things - 1, Em likes men, and 2, that Ken feels jealous of the guy he just saw him kiss. Cue gay panic and confusion. He eventually confronts Em about all of this and the two come to terms with the fact the feelings have been mutual for a very long time. Their exploration of their romantic attraction to each other begins.

Joan is one of the first, and only ones, to learn of this development. Since its the 60s, they go with the whole "roommates" thing as a cover, and cus they've always been close like that it goes unnoticed. Meanwhile, Joanie gets her divorce (and her baby), and she has a conversation with Em about regrets. Namely that she wishes she had chosen him, which causes Em to get angry.

They have an open and honest conversation about their feelings about love and relationships. Joan realizes now that the only way she would be with someone again is if she really loves them, something which she's not sure she's ever experienced. And Em reveals he never cared about relationships or sex either way, and that he's never slept with Ken despite their romantic relationship. Em and Joan are just happy to have each other in their lives, even if their feelings aren't exactly romantic. Em did feel that way for her once, but the years have changed that. They both grew and moved on.

The series ends with Ken and Em supporting Joan in her new business and single motherhood. Em joins her company as creative director, and Ken continues his career as a writer. And they both help Ken adjust to going blind in one eye too.

[sorcerous-caress]

hope this isn't weird to ask but how long have you been writing and how old are you? did you ever take any courses related to writing or have you been improving through writing as a hobby?

Hey it's not weird at all, I'll happily answer!

I'm 20 years old, and I have been writing non-continuously since I was 12.

My first fic was written with colon punctuation for spoken dialogue instead of quotation marks bc I didn't know what those were at the time. For example:

Bob: nice weather we're having today (he said with a smile)

Bob2: I signed the divorce papers, they're on the counter. (Sighing at the other's stubbornness)

I posted it on wattpad.

Afterwards, I never wrote anything else, but I learned about Ao3 and kept enganging in fandom spaces. At 14, I joined roleplaying group chats, which made me think and write faster to keep the rp going. Eventually, it became one on one rp with another person where we would take our chat history log, freshen it up a bit, then post it as a fic.

By 16, I joined a fandom server with a semi serious writing subcategory in it. People more experienced and much older than me would beta for other's story. It's where I picked up the habit to write drafts in google docs so I can easily share the link for a beta reader to add suggestions to.

I still haven't written another fic by then, not by myself, at least. I got very insecure at the time about my writing and lack of knowledge. Mind you, I joined the server, not knowing what punctuation was. It took several beta readers adding punctuation for me until it finally clicked that I should use it.

It felt like I was an outcast in a way? Sure, everyone treated me just as nicely as others there, but I noticed the little things that added up over time. Like how no one would react or talk about the stories I post, but if someone else shares theirs, then the entire server gushes over it. Or how one time I reacted to my own story with an emoji, only for someone else to mention how it's me who clicked it and I shouldn't do that. It was a very unhealthy environment for a 16-year-old surrounded by 30-20 years old, but I stuck to it because I wanted to improve my writing.

Even if I was ignored, they'd still beta for me as a chance to offer "constructive criticism." Artists can be very petty when a low skilled person joins them.

My skills improved, and I posted my second fic! It was nothing remarkable, but it felt like the first stone into the stairway of improvement, yk? I loved that fic, it was my crowning jewel.

But as a result, I started to hate writing. It was a struggle, I'd spend hours on two sentences while others on the server were bragging about their 50k fics. I hated my own inability to perform better, to write better.

I got sick of reading my own writing from the number of times I'd rewrite it in an attempt to format it better. I couldn't even bare look at other's writing or read fanfics on AO3 because I'd always compare their writing to mine. Break their style down and analyse it in an attempt to spot what I'm doing wrong.

I left the server eventually, abruptly too. It was for the better.

I swore off of writing.

For two years, that was true. I gradually came to reading fanfics again, but just looking at a blank document was enough to get me nauses.

By 18, Aot happened, and the boom in x reader fanfics.

Everything I've written up to this point has been ships. Not once did I consider the idea of an x reader. For a while, I used to scoff at it and label it as cringe, as if the ship fanfics I was reading wasn't cringe either. Elitism, I tell you.

I saw these request blogs and how posting on tumblr seemed less intimidating than AO3. How intimate it felt to have an anon talk to you about your own fic that you wrote for them, to have people discussing your writing and stories with you! And they ask for more!

Sign me tf up.

I started my first writing blog, and I didn't know shit. I learned as I went. The new formatting, the tumblr tag system, creating a masterlist.

How important presentation is in here.

In AO3, your fic has the same chance of being read as any other one. Only your description is there to judge it by. But on tumblr? The shiny bookcover was almost as important as the material inside. In here, you have to market your own fic, present it with a lovely bow on top, add a pretty eyecatching header, and all the right trending tags.

Luckily, it clicked easy for me. I used free domian paintings from past centuries to make my covers, and they stood out amongst the anime cover galore. It was a little pretentious, I admit, but I also was a little pretentious, so it's alright.

I played my cards right, answered requests enthusiastically, and delivered fics at a fast rate. Paid attention to what styles worked best and what genres attracted more attention. At that point, it was a numbers game for me. Play marketing right, and you'll win at capitalism.

It felt very degrading and dirty.

My personal style fazed out, and my fics had a sanitised safe for mass consume feel to it. It was written to appeal to you rather than written out of any real love or passion.

It was soulless garbage.

Not to mention at the time I still used the same unhealthy and needlessly convoluted writing method I learned from that server. Yes I cut ties with them but I still didn't have any other alternative writing method to use.

What's that? Just write however I want? Are you crazy? What like my 12y old self wrote on wattpad? My 18y old self would rather die than actually be true to themselves.

I was extremely insecure and afraid of being labelled as "cringe" I completely ereased any stray stains of personality that managed to trickle their way down into my writing. Not once did I write for myself during that time, and not once did I actually enjoy a single piece I made.

I hated all of them, I couldn't bear to even read the fics I wrote. But I still made more and more to appease the requesters, still forced myself to sit and write each morning for hours on end.

A tight timeline, an exhausting production and no friends or hobbies to fall back into and relax. It was a fucking nightmare.

What ircked me the most was how people would just keep requesting more without a thank you or even a fuck you afterwards. It's like it's a fast food drive-through and I should be grateful for any attention I get.

But I never said a word. I never complained because complaining drives away people and engagement. No, I needed to keep my happy chill imagine and never show any emotion or talk about my struggles in real life or writing.

Instead of realising I hated my writing because of its lack of essence and soul, I convinced myself instead that it's because my skill level is still too low.

So I searched online. I found writing courses I couldn't afford, and neither could I ask my family for money for anything at the time because of personal reasons.

So I put on my pirate hat.

Apparently, people don't bother uploading the scam writing tips courses to pirate websites. That's fair.

Instead, I pirated books from famous authors talking about writing. Read them and tried to apply their methods, ignored my own preferences, and wrote to fit their subjective standards of what good writing is.

I signed up for free trials courses that didn't require a credit card and copied every single file into my hard drive before the trail ended.

I had so much material to study. I watched youtube videos about writing. I really really tried everything I could.

But I still loathed every fucking word I put down on these pages.

And I hated how a general advice in writing was to "follow your heart" what is that supposed to mean? I can't do that. Others do not like my heart, It has been proven many times before so how about you just give me some useful advice instead you useless wrinkled piece of shit book?

.

..

...

You can't force or fake creativity.

You can fake an elegant writing style, you can copy interesting lines from famous books and apply them to your own writing, you can include every trendy word in all the right places.

But you can't fake creativity.

I wished I was 12 again. Writing fics on wattpad, where my style was worse than garbage, and yet I loved it. People loved it.

Because it was garbage with a soul, a garbage that had empty chocolate milk bottles and spilt sprinkles. A garbage that showed personality and where my priorities were. With kids' fingerprints in colourful paint and a toddler's fridge artpiece.

A garbage that mirrored my love for the art.

And I ruined it. I traded it all for stupid punctuation that I didn't even care for.

I was happy.

Like every other probome in my life, I ran away.

I hit my breaking point. The requests were never ending, the studying and writing books were getting more and more pretentious and contradicting themselves. I barely had time to eat, I don't talk to people or go outside.

I do not have the time for anything, I missed having friends.

I left the blog. I stopped writing, it was too anxiety inducing.

I got into videogames again, I enjoyed the text heavy ones. I chose to ignore what that implied.

They were so...beautiful.

And fun!

I made some friends, I was happy for a while.

Then, one of my favourite characters in my video game mentioned missing their parents, how hard the funeral was.

It hit home.

I'm not writing, I convinced myself with a lie, I'm just gonna put down my thoughts on them...in a google document.

See just around 1k words, easy peasy. I AM NOT WRITING. It doesn't count.

But I did write it. Not with any calculated formula or method. I wrote my thoughts like how I hear them in my head and what I felt, what I imagined the character would feel.

Then, I added some dialogue, trimmed the corners, and sprinkled in euphemism.

It was simple and bare, vulnerable.

I posted it. It never got much traction.

But I was happy, I liked it, even loved it and kept rereading it.

I was 19.

I nervously showed it to my friend. They mentioned how much they can't stand reading books or fics because the words overwhelm them courtesy of their ADHD.

But they managed to read mine. Very smoothly.

Because my style, my own personal style that is set to my preference, makes me write in small paragraphs and straightforward. I never linger on details or focus on one thing for too long, I always give breaks and seperate events from each other.

And it clicked for this one person who struggled with reading, a style that will get criticism in any serious writing circle for being too simple or childish.

They liked it.

I hate needless convolution.

I just turned 20 years old, I asked for Baldur's Gate 3 early access as my birthday gift.

I received it, I played it.

I fell in love with its writing.

Then I made this blog, and I promised myself not to follow rabbits into any holes again. To reject the requests I don't want, to write because I love to, because I find it interesting or fun.

To never feel obligated to any thing or person. Only write if I want to, only post it if I want to. And if I don't want to? Then I simply won't.

And yes this blog gets much less attention than my first one but the people in here, the anons and my readers, they interact much more with me and my writing. It feels much better to have a handful of people genuinely excited and curious about your stories than a hundred people who would only leave likes and leave.

I have never touched a writing course or a helpful book since then. I block every writing tips blog, I see. I hate each and every single post about writing tricks and immediately skip past it.

I don't care if I improve anymore. I don't care if people don't read my stuff. I do not care if my style degenerates so much and reverts back to wattpad. All I care about is the fact I love writing and I enjoy it, I plan to keep it this way.

-

It's also funny that I'm writing in English since I when I first started writing at 12 it was in Arabic. My first fic? In Arabic.

And I was willing to go down that road yk. Keep true to my heritage and culture, write in my own beautiful language.

But. I wrote about queer topics and stories. Homophobia is still a massive thing in our society. My story was more infamous and taboo than famous and beloved.

I had so many people coming to my dms to "educate" me about religion and sin. How what I'm doing is wrong and the message I'm spreading is haram.

It was funny at first especially when it was the quran that made me want to write in the first place. Because it's actually a collection of poems! It just loses its rhythm when translated to English. It was so beautifully written, I'd listen to it always as a kid.

But then those dms became unbearable and I decided to learn english to join the western fandoms instead. A 12y old just deciding to fuck it and learn a whole new language to write gay fics.

A lot of my struggles in writing at 12-17 was because I was still learning English at the time.

This was fun. Thank you so much for asking this, anon! I had the chance to reminisce about the past.

I made so many mistakes. But I'd rather having made them and reached this point of content with myself than not having made them at all.

[holiciouspursuitofenvy]

It took me a really long fucking time to acknowledge why i can't handle boundaries/end up being manipulative as fuck to real and sometimes online people.

EVERYBODY FEELS LIKE I HAVE TO WALK ON EGGSHELLS WITH! I truly did not understand stand that consciously, i only ever chalked it up to social anxiety. No matter how many times i told myself i wish there was a class on how to talk to people and what people will judge you on.

I grew up with parents who would be gone from home long periods of time (due to their jobs bc we were poor and childhood divorce). And when they came home would either fight eachother or their children (me and my siblings). Belittling us for little things we did or want which oftentimes was extremely normal kid stuff. And because i was the youngest, i was an honorary child of the eldest teenage sister who obviously was a bad mother but also actively bullied me for years.

Not to mention parents who would constantly tell me don't trust anyone, everyone is judging you and out to get you. So they sheltered you home minimizing play time or hanging out with other kids. I actively remember being a kid and trying to set up healthy boundaries like "hey mom, it really hurta me when you yell at me for crying when i get shots or needles, I'm trying my best." And her going "fuck off, you're just sensitive and you need to get over it by now." Or my dad actively triggering me when he does his angry sound tell so i asked him to please do it less and he angrily calls me a child in a long drawn out paragraph and huffs away.

I was/sometimes still am stuck in a toxic cycle of needing to learn how to set up boundaries for myself and telling people, namely my family, to fuck off if they don't. I used to have a hero complex where i would help people at the expense of myself to often but then i said fuck that and now I've made my over defensiveness even more obvious.

But i also couldn't acknowledge this extends to EVERYTHING. In real life when someone says you did a bad thing suddenly it feels like a volcano of the most angry emotions stir inside of me BECAUSE I AM FURIOUS.

I'M FURIOUS that no one acknowledges how hard it was to walk on eggshells all the time. How I'd need to pat myself on the back every time i completed a social interaction successfully or comb through every detail of them to find something to improve on. I never felt i was progressing to normal but that i was stuck incompetent forever.

I get told a lot that I'm very mysterious and never tell anyone anything and this is why. I HAVE MAJOR TRUST ISSUES. This is where the hyper-independence, the closed offness, the combative nature against people i trust especially comes in. Why I'm always surprised people who don't see me everyday or run to me anytime the see me say I'm their friend. I'm sure i came off super cold when i asked them why but i was genuinely surprised. Because being teased, bullied, and dismissed by everyone close to me growing up fucked up my view of people and relationships.

I don't mean for any of this to come off as an excuse but as an explanation. And me trying to reach people who've gone through the same things i have but kept getting back into the cycle of needing to defend yourself by all means possible to people who just said "please stop, i don't like this," or any other variation of you have done something wrong. Especially if you went over the line online and someone said "hey thwt way too over familiar, don't talk to strangers like that." because yea STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET ARE NOT YOUR THERAPIST OR PUNCHING BAGS.

I really need people to understand this isn't from entitlement, it's subconscious mistrust in everyone you meet bc subconsciously i believed everyone was out for me. Someone i needed to defend against before or after they talk to me. No matter how nice and gentle it comes doesn't matter. Everyone has to be lying and think it's the biggest deal in the world actually or this is a greater sign of you being awful all along. Like everone did that to everyone elae. And if anyone just casually calls this narcissism I'm hitting you with a 2x4. Those posts never resonated with me. They felt dismissive for me personally.

I AM ALWAYS IN A PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE VICTORIAN ENGLAND TEA PARTY WITH A BAD REPUTATION. Or better yet I'm always walking on eggshells with people.

Coming from someone who knows they're mentally fucked up but not knowing exactly how for all your life but especially in the past 5+ years of not going to therapy except when it was closeby and free a couple times but never being truly open with them because you learned vulnerability equals dismissal and pain 99% of the time.

So yeah, i highly recommend looking back on your childhood and examining when you were dismissed or had your boundaries broken. Then work on active trust with people and be open to more people because not processing my trauma but trying to steamroll being a functional persom also fucked me up.

[lostonehero]

Immortal Micheal

William is a sad little meow meow

Henry sighs, walking down the displays. "It was past midnight. They all were awake and skulking their enclosures. They enjoyed the gifts and everything the morning patrons left. Among the items were little dolls, drawings, and old toys. He bowed the best he could to his daughter, who he could hear giggling just out of sight. He knows it's her.

"Now careful everyone inspectors are coming tomorrow that means, no hiding toys in your bodies especially you Lizzie"

Henry chuckles at the "It wasn't me." On the sound speaker

.

He pauses in front of the golden fredbear. "I haven't found the last one yet, Evan. I don't know if Micheal was stuck, too." He sighs as gental static brushes past his ears. "I'll keep looking as much as these old bones allow. Also, stop giving your father little toys. I don't care that he makes you new toys it's dangerous."

Henry stops again, looking back. "Yeah, well, if he made everyone something, then I wouldn't say anything..." He waves but doesn't take the wind up toy he knows William made his son and the tiny ballerina he made Lizze.

He stops and sits on the bench in front of the spring lock animotronic

"Henry."

"William."

"Oh, what do deserve this visit for?" William huffs.

"Inspectors coming again." Henry hums.

"Ah, so I'm staying underground."

"You've learned from last time, have you?"

"My bones are mine, Henry." William sighs. "Is it the odor?"

"No, I'm planning on opening up night attractions. You're getting too comfortable with the children alone, William."

"They still torment me enough."

Henry raises his brow. "You're turning a toy car into a train for the boy in foxy."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." William sneers, pacing his enclosure like a lion.

"Don't throw a tantrum, William. You've adopted these kids just as much as I have." Henry hides his smile as William slams on the glass.

"I am the one who took those kids from their families, and I am the one who stuffed them in the suits. How dare you even insinuate I could care for my trophies, my victims."

"Your speech is less convincing than before William. You're growing soft." Henry laughs again. "By the way, Clara is still around and moved back to London."

"Never understood how you could marry her."

William gives a annoyed look. "It was arranged."

Henry stops and frowns. "Didn't know that."

"I never said it."

Henry sighs. "And you didn't divorce in the States?"

"Kids had to be 18 all of them, probably why we had more than Micheal." William walks back to the center. "Granted, none of them made it to 18, so I'm still in that contract."

"You're dead."

"I think she put a clause in there for that."

"That's disturbing considering you being you."

"Gee thanks Henry "

.....

William stops his pacing, staring at his old friend. “Clara was like that. She didn’t like any of the children, Michael especially. The others she tolerated.”

"She could dress Lizzie up like a doll probably helped in her favor of not being treated like Micheal. Evan was her baby." He tapped on the glass seemingly connecting something in his mind. Henry can see he never did grow out of the mindless tapping habit when he was in deep thought.

“Michael was the annoying one. The mistake." William spits out like it doesn't taste quite right.

"Well, I mean, he wasn't a mistake he was planned..." William frowns or what looks like a frown. "Henry, why did I consider him a mistake he was planned early so we wouldn't have to be married long." He pauses.

A loud slam against the glass pulked henry from mulling those words."Leave, I have to think," William huffs

....

Another night, another conversation

"Clara wasn't a good person." William speaks quietly. "The arrangement was about money."

Henry raises his brow, but let's William continue.

"They wanted to pawn her off, and I was single, and my family needed the money. The asylum would be a black mark on the family." William fidgets with the broken toys. "I know I didn't want that a relationship, and my parents fixed that. I mean we had a good thing us together but I don't know why Clara kept trying to poison me against you. I guess she was the one to suggest to make you hurt like we did.... like I did. Clara just had a broken.... toy..." He doesn't say anything after that.

Henry tries to push, and it only makes William lash out. The conversation died with that.

....

It takes a week. Henry has his laptop on his lap, scrolling through and looking at his nieces and nephews.

"I apologize." A quiet rough voice rouses Henry from his browsing.

Henry looks up, adjusting his glasses. "For what, William?"

"Charlie." He looks defeated. "I turned to the bottle for support then to Clara, and Clara didn't like you having a doll she couldn't have."

Henry swallows.

William continues. "I never understood how she worded things, I thought she was slow, hence the arranged marriage. I realize now that her words were deliberate."

Henry goes to speak before William Continues. "I am guilty of all of these crimes, but I... I just left the bodies."

"William, the dead bodies didn't just get up and move." Henry pauses and swallows. "The kids talk about...."

"A pretty ballerina who said they were going to get help." William growls, slamming his fist against the wall. "I take the blame for the murders." He sounds defeated

.....

Henry and William don't talk for a month after that they just spend time next to each other. Henry can see the kid spirits out of the corner of his eyes. They are getting braver moving from the animotronics. He swore he saw his old friend how he was sitting on the shoulder of springtrap, but he was gone when he blinked. Henry is quiet checking his emails. He gives a small huff and furrows his brows.

"I know that look." William breaks the silence."Of course you do." Henry mutters. "My old eyes are playing tricks on me.""How so?""It says Micheal Afton is applying for the night guard position." Henry frowns. "Same birthday.... these have to be fake creditentals."William presses his face into the glass, unable to see what Henry is looking at, but curiosity has grabbed him. "Micheal? You said he was dead." Quieter. "I lead him to his death."

"William, we talked about that, Micheal was 19 he was old enough to make his own decisions." Henry sighs, clicking through the application. "We should require a photograph with these applications... no, wait, that's illegal."

William laughs softly. Even in the rusted body and rough sound, his laugh is still soft. Henry shook his head, pushing those thoughts out of his mind. He's dead, and you're on deaths door.

"Henry, I was always better at the hiring." William chuckles he was in a surprisingly good mood like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"I'm fine at this, Willy." He bites his tongue at that old nickname. "William, I can handle this, I'll just accept and lead him here. If he's a fake, then I can spot him."

"What if he's not? Do the interview at night." William places his hand against the glass. "Lizzie and Evan agree."

Henry shakes his head. "Can't labor laws, Will-iam." He bites back the nickname again. He was getting too comfortable, and when did his children start talking to him again. "The museum isn't open at night yet, so it has to be during operation hours."

"Henry..." A plea from William seems out of place when staring at him.

"Out of the question, William." He rubs his temples at the static. "Let me do this myself." He doesn't leave room for an argument as he takes his cane and hobbles out of the museum.

[renee-writer]

We talk about genetics.

We talk about environment and learned behavior.

We talk about generational sin.

Essentially, we talk about how it’s very common to struggle with the same issues those in our family have struggled with.

Whatever framework you are using to discuss this, it’s clear- these things seem to be easily passed down.

In some cases, being like our family might be a great thing. Family’s can be influential in such a positive way.

Other times, it’s the exact opposite.

People grow up around addiction, unhealthy marriages and divorce and often find themselves in the same place.

Some live their lives in unhealthy and destructive ways because it’s what they know.

Some treat other people in the same horrible way they were treated.

Many people feel like there is a “ceiling” on their life because their family said so, so they never go after their dreams.

We can feel so “stuck” because of what we’ve seen and been taught.

Yet, somehow, there are these people who emerge as the “firsts.”

The cycle-breakers.

The ones who recognize what is unhealthy, and commit to breaking themselves free from it.

They choose a career path everyone else rolls their eyes at.

They fight for their marriage and vow to never quit, even if quitting is all they know.

They decide to treat their body well and take good care of it.

They pursue their faith even though no one else in their family cares about it or thinks they should.

Through their own hard work, and a lot of God’s grace, they do life differently.

Even if their family doesn’t understand.

Even if they get mocked or even isolated.

Even if people intentionally try to knock them down.

They decide they will be different.

And that is exactly what the Lord has called them to.

Something new, something different, something no one else has done before.

God breaks the chains of generational baggage off of them.

He calls them to be the “firsts”.

So friend, if you are sitting in a place where you feel conflicted because you know there is more to your life than this...

I hope you know God has instilled in you the courage to do something different.

He has more in store for you.

And also for the generations to come.

Because when you break the cycle, it’s not just for you.

It changes things for those to come after you.

It changes your legacy.

So listen to that voice inside.

The one calling you not to be complacent.

Follow His voice and know that He can tear down any ceiling that’s ever been placed on top of you.

It’s time to break the cycle, and move into freedom.

~Kelli Bachara, The Unraveling Blog

[underthe-redhood]

Are there any particular songs/quotes/scenes/stories that remind you of Our Last Chance or that you thought of when writing it? Similarly, are there any characters you think of when writing for the batsis? Personally I think of Tulip from Infinity Train (if you don't know she's a child of divorce who runs away from home BC she can't handle the changes and blames herself for them)

Particularly the quote/scene; "I know what it's like to think i-if you had just been better things would have been different. That you're responsible for fixing things that are beyond your control! Just know I speak from experience when I say this is not your fault. And I still wanna help you - if you'll let me."

And an episode where (in relation to the time travel of the story) Tulip revisits her memories in order to learn a lesson and is stuck commentating on what she wishes she had said but left unheard

"are you... Okay?"

Past tulip: yeah. Why wouldn't I be?

Present tulip: you're not.

Another character is Princess Bubblegum from Adventure time - less her tendency to need control and more about how she puts a lot on her shoulders and ends up pushing others away in her efforts. Plus the contingency plans

"I have to be "always so prepared". We can't all just wing it!I didn't have to always worry about so many things, you know? The Candy Kingdom used to be so small, so manageable. But then it kept growing and growing, and there was always some new disaster to prepare against."

"I tried. I really, really tried. I just... I thought that if I shut everything out and just focused on work, it would all be okay, but look where that landed me. All I managed to do was push everyone away. I pushed you away. I'm sorry, Marceline. I've been a real dinger to you."

And last that I can think of is Amethyst from Steven Universe but specifically the one episode where she has to face where she came from (that everyone else seems so eager to avoid bc it's bad history for them but it hurts her feelings that she can't be proud of where she's from)

"Admit it! I'm just an embarrassment to you... I'm not going to stand there and let you remind me of everything I hate about myself! I didn't ask for it to be this way... I never asked to be made!"

"this is like- my whole life! You wanna pretend that none of this ever happened. You think I'm just a big mistake!" "No, you're not the mistake - You're just the byproduct of a... Big mistake... That's not what I meant. I just never saw this as you, you didn't build this place. I- I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me. You're the one good thing that came out of this mess. I always thought you were proud of that."

But I may have gone too heavy handed on the angst lol. These are just a few I thought of in relation to the story and I don't know the character as well as you do so what are your thoughts?

- 🐌

first off, sorry i’m replying kinda slow it’s finals week for me lol

your quotes are so perfect omg, i haven’t seen Infinity Train but that quote is so relatable to what batsis is feeling!!

as for the princess bubblegum one, i really like the quote and i actually was partially inspired by marceline’s storyline with the ice king because it was just another disaster where a kid lost a protective figure that really mattered to them!

the last two quotes are also really good! the struggle they mention isn’t necessarily about the plot but it definitely is how i imagine batsis to be and how i’d continue to write her if i ever use this same batsis in another future story!

honestly, the main way i came up with this plot was like a year ago i was reading about all the awful things batman has done to the robins (specifically dick) and i found the alternative universe comic where he slept with barbara and actually looked into the plot of ‘the killing joke’ and i saw this one scene of batman beyond (i think??) where barbara vaguely mentioned that dick left and was never seen again and i was so heartbroken for him and was thinking “if only someone had changed the past like wally or something” and then BAM inspiration hit!

[emotionalsupportbloggy]

I used to pride myself on being smart. I didn't have beauty, so smart was all I had. And now i realize,  I'm not even that smart. I can't do math in my head and took forever to learn to tell time and directions.  I was probably just an average bear, but everyone felt bad for me because I was ugly, so they let me think i was smart.

I hated myself inside first. Eventually I hated myself on the outside too. I am ugly inside and out. God knows I wish I could change those both.  For a time there, I hated myself so much that I wanted to die. It was painful, and i felt like my kids and husband would be better off without me. I was always too weak to do anything serious, so I just had to do the next best thing and run away. Of course, I couldn't even do that right. I never even went very far. I just sat there alone,  wishing that I could kill myself.

I didn't have the courage to cut myself when I was young.  I wanted to, but I didn't want pain either. So I used to play with my cat and she would scratch me so bad that it could pass as cutting myself. Attention or legit affliction? I don't even know.  I don't recall drawing attention to the cuts, so I don't know if this was for me or  perhaps for others to subtly notice and feel sorry for me.

What is my issue with attention? Did I not get any as a child? Is my attention meter broken and I did get plenty but feel like I didn't?  Is it because my dad left me?  is it the middle child blues? Is it from looking at sexy magazines too young? 

Why do these thoughts afflict me, Lord? These afflictions have shaped my whole life and still affect me so much today. Help me understand!

I think this is why Jojo doesn't love himself. Is it genetic, or did I inaverdently show him not to love himself?  Maybe he doesn't know how to because i didn't teach him. I don't recall anything specific I could have done to model that for him, but maybe someone else will have to tell me from their perspective.

I get to wondering why God gave me my husband. Did I rush because I found such a good catch, so I thought I better lock him up before I never have another great guy come my way?  He was great at the time we met. He was going to school and church,  slim and fit, handsome, star soccer player. He loved God and reminded me of my step dad, who i admire and love dearly. I stalked his life and fell in love.  I don't know how,  but I managed to grab his attention. He was everything.  And for some reason, he thought I was too. But then reality hits, and that's where this fairy tale ends.  I quickly showed him he was wrong about who he thought I was. He didn't like anything about me- my walk, my talk, my dress. The real me was a rude awakening, and the honeymoon was over. But what could he do? This is a man of God, he can't just divorce me.  So he became miserable. I always thought he would welcome the day that he asked me if I cheated on him and I said yes. His get out of marriage free card.  What confuses me is that he could also be jealous and insecure- so did he care or did he  want me to do something he could use to get out of the marriage? 

Because I made him miserable,  he turned to what he knew to cope. Started with alcohol. That led to partying, not coming home,  cheating, porn, drugs, pills, and eventually debt. Did I miss anything. What wasn't he doing? I spent many long,  lonely nights through the years wondering where he was, what he was doing,  who he was with,  and waiting for him to come home. This was painful.  I guess I don't even blame him for all this because I feel at fault for it. I was ugly,  inside and out. He was stuck with me. What was he to do. And I stayed through it all. As hurtful as it all was,  I hung on through it. I deserved it. 

The main reason I didn’t leave? Fear i won't find someone to love me like he does. Aside from his afflictions,  he's a very good man. He's troubled, but he has a beautiful heart. He is good to me otherwise. Who is going to deal with me and my ways. And a divorce? That thought takes me to my fear of failure.  So I endure.  It is painful. Who would stay but someone who feels it's their own fault and they deserve it.  But love isn't supposed to hurt.

Did I hurt him first? I certainly didn't do it on purpose.  He was repulsed by my personality and who I truly was. He had buyer's remorse with me. Was this my fault? I suppose I was different at the time when I met him. I was on fire for God. Plugged in and attending church 3x a week, I was finally feeling some sense and purpose in my life. We married, and that actually wore off quickly. I didn't know how to be married, and I had a hard time adapting to the biblical wife he thought i would be. I didn't ask him to help me make decisions,  especially with the kids. I just made them. I was used to running my household and parenting my kids as I saw fit. This was probably hurtful to him. Maybe one of the first few problems we had. 

I have battled depression probably my whole life. At the time I met and married him,  I was on clouds. I thought God was really blessing me. Things lined up, and I took them as signs this was right.  So we didn't wait very long- engaged in 4 months,  married in 6. We should have waited. I don't think we would have married if we did.

There is nothing I have ever liked about myself. I hate my face,  my height, my body, my hair,  my thoughts and habits,  etc. Always have too.  I don't know how to do girly things and I was also a late bloomer to top it off. 

I always had guy friends and never hooked up with them. Now I'm realizing it was probably more because I was the ugly chick friend instead of the hot girl everyone wanted to make out with. And I've always said proudly as if some kind of feat that I never hooked up with these guys. Ha!

But I think that's why I am confident to have guy friends. I feel like I can have boundaries, but I'm also not worried that anyone actually likes me.  I am definitely not the one to assume a guy likes me, and if i don't like them i will try especially hard to ignore any possible signs because I don't like confrontation or setting boundaries. I prefer to ignore or avoid either of those situations. 

I have always had low self esteem. I'm sure my need for male validation has something to do with that. After all,  it wasn't just any attention I wanted.