#hey these two SHOULD be super toxic and unhinged

[anthurak]

So I'm rewatching the Helluva Boss shorts, and uh...

Why do I feel like this bit from Hell's Belles is meant to hint/foreshadow/give us a peak at the courtship of Marthaberry?

I mean Mayberry already went after Martha with a chainsaw once. Don't see why she wouldn't do it AGAIN. And Martha is exactly the type who would get her own chainsaw to go after Mayberry right back.

And they're both sinners, so things probably got a bit... messy.

[flying-nightwing]

Shame and Toxic Fame (vol. 1)

Ah! I’m back with a two (maybe three?) part story which is kinda inspired by the song Life of the Party by All Time Low (not shawn mendes lmao). If you don’t know it check it out it’s super good. 

In this one reader is a famous singer because why not! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Music star!reader

Word count: 3727

Warnings: Mention of substance abuse (both alcohol and drugs), light bar fight violence

I spent an embarassing amount of time searching for a gif for this one oof

The night was going absolutely great until you took a look at yourself in the mirror during a quick fix up.

You were a mess.

Your red eyes were contrasting with your smudged dark makeup, your bronzer and highlighter were mostly gone and the poor imitation of a lipstick stain was stretched all over your mouth and teeth. You lifted a hand to fix it, but in your dizzy state, it didn’t do much. Your purple top was ruined with alcohol and your bracelets were stuck on your skin from the sugar of your drinks’ mixers. You had a moment of lucidity right there, asking how the hell you ended up at rock bottom so quick, but you didn’t like it. You reached in your pocket and took the last smiley face pill in your little plastic bag, and like it, you put a grin on your face and returned to the party. You grabbed a bottle of wine from the bar, made your way over the passed out people on the ground and rejoined the dancefloor. 

You were dancing, high on the colors and sound waves around you when the illusion shattered. 

Your ex walked in with his friends, laughing and joking like he owned the place. You gasped in offense at the audacity of him showing up to your birthday party. At your place. Like he hadn’t humiliated you publicly less than a month ago in front of the whole world. Your grip on the bottle tightened and you stomped in his direction. His friends noticed your first, halting their laugh and tapping him on the chest. His eyes met yours and they widened in humour at your state.

“You!” You screamed. The music turned down, the chatter died. Murmurs went around the crowd and cameras got taken out as people formed a circle around you. 

“Me” He pointed at himself.

“How dare you!” You pushed him back, suddenly unhinged. He laughed with the crowd, holding his hands up in defense. But he wasn't taking you seriously. “How dare you show up here!”

“It said open house, darling” Now he was patronizing. “I can be here. Beside, happy birthday”

“Get out” You gritted your teeth. “GET OUT”

“No”

Without really thinking, you lifted your bottle and slammed it on the table, shattering it. Yelps went around the crowd, and they got even louder when you pointed the jagged end in his direction.

“Wow WOW” He backed up. “Fucking crazy bitch!”

You couldn’t really recall what went next. People came in between you two as he kept shouting for someone to “take this crazy bitch away from him”. Arms restrained you around the waist, you threw up, you think, and you blacked out.

--------

You groaned as you felt sunlight hit your eyes. You threw an arm over your face and forced yourself not to think about your fragile stomach. The taste in your mouth was foul and your head was pounding like crazy. Now you had become quite the expert on hangovers lately, but this one was definitely the worst you had ever had. And it became only worse when memories from the night before started to come back, if it was even possible. 

The thought of that shitshow alone made you puke. 

You turned around in your bed, knowing you’d have to clean the alcohol off your floor anyway. Beside, you wouldn’t have made it to the bathroom on time. But to your surprise, you found a metal bucket at the foot of the bed, ready for you to grab and hurl the content of your stomach in it. Only when you didn’t have anything more to throw up that you realized you did not own anything like this bucket, or that the bedside table had gone from your cherry wood to an unfamiliar oak grey. Thinking about it, you didn’t own a navy blue carpet, nor were your sheets that color either. 

Fuck.

You looked around in panic when you realized that you were not, in fact, in your bedroom. You had been changed into a large t-shirt, but you still had your underwear underneath it as well as your purple tank top. You half sighed in relief, then hissed at the pounding in your head. You had sat up way too quickly and now you made it worse. Your eyes were dragged to the bucket, and your nose scrunched up. You would have thrown up again if there had been anything left in your stomach. Then your eyes trailed to the grey oak night table, on which there was your phone (plugged in a charger?) beside two ibuprofen and a glass of water. 

Without question, you took them and drank the water slowly to make them pass. You were parched, but your stomach did not like the input of liquid right now. When you were sure the water wouldn’t come back out, you slowly reached for your phone and flinched even before turning on the lockscreen. Your fears were confirmed when you came face to face with about a hundred texts with the same thumbnail and a lot of capital letters and punctuation. You had a ridiculous amount of notifications from every social apps you had, and they were still getting in as you stared in shock at your screen. Your hand flew to your mouth, not from the threat of puking this time. Tears brimmed your eyes as you realized just exactly what you had put yourself into. You shook your head, feeling your breathing accelerate. You were overwhelmed, and instead of opening conversations--any conversation--you just shut your phone down and threw it on the floor.

“What have I done” You mumbled to yourself, trying to swallow back the panic attack threatening to surface. Dragged in the mud the remaining of your pride, that’s what you did.

A quiet knock on the door pulled you back from your own spiral of shame. You didn’t speak. “Uh, (Y/N), are you okay? I heard a thud from here”

“Yeah” You replied, and you voice came back more hoarse than you thought. The voice was male, and it seemed uncertain. You did not recognize it. “Thanks”

“... Can I come in?”

You considered refusing, as you were still too ashamed to face anyone, and still unsure about the intention of whoever brought you here. But then again, they didn’t seem to have touched you, and they asked to come in rather than barge in. Also, they had left a bucket. That was the most anyone did for you in a while. 

“S-Sure”

The door creaked open and a tall man with dark hair stood behind it. He peeked inside, like he was hesitant to step in further, but he nodded to himself when he saw you weren't dead. And if you looked like a dressing room carpet after a Guns and Roses after party, which you most certainly did, he did not let it show on his face. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright” He hummed. “Last night, you seemed pretty… Uh...”

“Wasted? Trashed? Ridiculous?” You offered with a sad smile, waiting for him to laugh at you or show you a video of what you did.

“I was thinking more of in need of a hand” He replied gently, taking you aback. “My brother and I brought you back here before the paps could swarm the place, but don’t worry my sister changed you. I wasn’t--”

You looked down at the shirt, then back at him.

“Thanks” Your eyes filled with water again. 

“Oh, hey, no please--” He rushed inside. “Please don’t cry”

Obviously, that was the one thing not to say, because as if on cue you began crying. He grabbed the tissue box on the desk and brought it to you. You mumbled a thanks and blew your nose with all the grace left you possessed. Now you must have truly looked like a sight for sore eyes, bawling in a stranger’s bedroom as he handed you tissues. 

“Hey, come on, it’s okay” He shushed, giving you awkward pats on the back. You could tell he didn’t do that often, judging by his awkwardness, but it did make you feel better. At least he wasn’t judging you like he should be; he must have seen the pathetic excuse of a fight that had gone down at your party. “Let it all out”

You finally calmed down after a few minutes, sniffing and wiping your eyes. You took a deep breath, then another one and nodded. Your glance trailed up to his face, and much to his credit he did not grimace at your state from up close. He seemed uncomfortable, but not enough to be on the verge of running away. If anything, he did look genuinely concerned, which was unusual for your typical entourage. “What’s your name?”

“Jason”

“That’s a nice name” You lifted the corner of your lips. “Where are we?”

“Wayne Manor”

Your eyes widened. He’s that Jason?

“Yeah” Amusement overtook his features while you froze. He figured you did not intend to say that out loud. 

You were in the Wayne Manor with an actual legend, and you hadn’t even realized it. He was even more famous than you, mostly for being the Wayne son that was found after two years of having disappeared. 

“I’m sorry to tell you that your reputation is now forever tainted” You scoffed weakly. “Bringing back the breakdown diva will make people talk”

He snorted. “I doubt that’s the thing I’ll be remembered about”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I, uh” He scratched the back of his neck. “You really don’t recall what went down yesterday?”

“No” You shook your head. “I can’t see past the moment I yelled at my ex to get out”

“Okay… Just to be sure, he was the bad guy, right?” He flinched, and your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “I might uh. You know what, it’ll just be easier to show you”

He fished out his phone out of his back pocket and pulled out a video, then dragged the time mark to one specific moment. He handed you the phone and you pressed play. It started as you smashed the bottle, making wine explode everywhere including on yourself. Not your proudest moment. Then the crowd shrieked and people came to break the fight, you were pulled out of view as Jason appeared, trying to make your ex back off. Something the mic didn’t quite catch was said, and that’s when you saw what he meant. In barely a second, Jason blocked your ex’s punch and replied with two quick ones of his own. Your ex was sent flying backwards, unconscious and bloody, and the video ended with that.

Your jaw dropped. “Oh god”

“Yeah” He sighed. “Sorry”

“Sorry?” Your eyes flickered back to him as you handed him his phone. “N-No, don’t be. I mean, he definitely deserved that”

It was his time to be taken aback.

“You’re good with that?”

“Obviously” You gave him a small smile. “I just wish I was the one who punched him”

“Well, judging by the smash bottle of wine you were holding up, I’d say you came pretty damn close” 

You allowed yourself to chuckle before you remembered you were still a surprise guest in the manor. Jason had helped you out, but he and his family would probably want you out of their home as soon as possible. You looked down at your laps and fidgeted with your fingers.

“I, uh, I should go” You mumbled. “I don’t want to burden you much longer with my presence, uh, you must want me out of here”

He blinked.

“You’re not a burden” He replied. “You still seem pretty shaken up. You can stay here as long as you want, the house is certainly big enough”

You bit the inside of your cheek. On one hand, you really did feel like imposing. On the other hand, the offer really did sound tempting. You weren’t ready to face the world just yet, and Wayne Manor was the perfect hideout for you to ride out the embarrassment. But Jason had already been way too nice to you as it was, and it was more than you deserved.

You shook your head. “Thanks, but--”

“I know you don’t want to go” He interrupted you softly. “I can see it, and I understand. You don’t have to expose yourself to the vultures just yet”

You felt the back of your neck heat up. You had no idea any of Bruce Wayne’s kid would be so… Not what you thought they’d be. You surely did not expect that level of kindness. 

“Don’t you worry, we’ve all been there” He looked up, then gave you a knowing smile. “Take your time, there’s a bathroom right behind this door, fresh clothes in the drawers and a fully stocked kitchen when you’re ready to eat something. I make an amazing hangover smoothie”

He stood up and walked to the door.

“Thank you, Jason”

He nodded, then left you to do your stuff. You remained on the bed for a couple of minutes, texting a few people close to you you were okay, before you got a draft of your own smell. You gagged and immediately went for the shower.

------

Freshly showered and changed, you timidly headed down to the kitchen. You got lost a few times on the way there, but you finally made it. You were relieved there was only Jason preparing food; you weren’t sure coming face to face with Bruce Wayne would be a great idea in your state. You were all cleaned up, but even a good wash couldn’t erase the bags under your eyes or the pounding in your head that made you flinch every now and then.

“Feeling better?” 

“Much better” You smiled. “Thank you”

“Hey, no problem” He chuckled as he pushed a glass with a thick, pale green liquid your way. “Besides, it’s kind of an honor to have you here”

You cocked your head to the side.

“I mean, you’re pret-ty amazing” He said, taking a bite of his toast. “You have some admirers around here… Talking of which”

You followed his glance behind you, where a grinning, wide eyed young man was standing. You knew who he was, Dick Grayson was hard not to notice around Gotham. You were just surprised of his reaction from seeing, apparently, well, you. 

“Hi” He smiled even brighter, if it was possible. “I’m Dick. Big fan”

“Hi” You gave him a small wave back. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Uh?”

“I was there too yesterday. I held you up when you, well”

“Oh” You looked away. So, that was the brother that had witnessed your disgrace in live action. Super. “Yeah, I feel better, thanks”

“Great!” The sound made you flinch as it resonated in your head, making him mutter a sheepish apology. 

“Alright Grayson, now’s not the time to be a fanboy” Jason teased, before he turned to face you. “Come, I’ll show you somewhere quiet to pass the hangover”

You grabbed your glass and followed him out of the kitchen and around the manor to some remote room on the end of a wing. He pushed the door open to a room with wide windows and warm lightning, a library you realized by the few bookshelves around. 

“Make yourself comfortable” He gestured to the seats around. “It’s the most relaxing place in the house, because my siblings are not allowed here”

“Why is that?”

“My library, my rules” 

“Your library?” You raised your eyebrows, but he just shrugged. 

“They can use the big one” He explained. “This is my space, and it comes handy when you have four annoying siblings”

“Gotcha” You smiled lightly as you walked around the room, observing the book titles. He had interesting tastes, you had no idea again he was that kind of guy. Well, you knew next to nothing about him, come to think of it. But the little you thought you had right from the tabloids was totally wrong. You kept snooping around as he sat in a chair and opened a book, until you came face to face with a beautiful acoustic six strings waiting there. You reached for it, but pulled your hand back last second. When you glanced back at Jason, he was already looking at you above his book. 

“May I?”

“Knock yourself out” He gestured to it, then returned to his book.

You restrained your new found excitement as you carefully picked the guitar up from its stand and carried it to a seat. A couple of strums told you it was slightly out of tune, so you adjusted the keys until it sounded on the note. You began playing the strings softly and humming along, until you felt Jason’s stare on you. His book was down on his laps and he had an interested glint in his eyes. Your fingers paused as you felt once again the heat creep up your neck. 

“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing your reading” You mumbled, suddenly feeling bad for violating his silent heaven.

“No, don’t worry” He reassured. “It’s quite nice. Did you compose that yourself?”

“Uh, yeah” You nodded. “It’s been so long, though. I don’t compose much anymore”

“Why?”

You smiled sadly. “I now have an extensive team of producers that make my music for me. Apparently, getting that catchy, polished, flawless radio hit is the priority these days. Better for business”

“Yeah well, that’s bullshit if you ask me” He leaned slightly forward. “I think a personal, heartfelt song will always be better”

“You and I both” You sighed. “Honestly I have no idea how I ended up here, or where I went wrong”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows drew in confusion. “You didn’t go that bad”

“Are you kidding me?” You choked on air, your eyes widening. “Haven’t you followed the tabloids the last year? Hell, you were there yesterday. You saw how trashed I was, and that was hardly an exception. I have earned a title of Breakdown Princess for a reason”

“Maybe” He shrugged. “But you were part of a culture putting inhuman pressure on public figures, especially women to perform and be perfect all the time ever since you were what, sixteen? And with what I’ve seen from that guy I punched… Anyway. All I’m saying is, don’t blame yourself too much for a game you were tricked to play”

You could only stare at him blankly, blinking rapidly. You had expected him to get it a bit, with being the son of Bruce Wayne and all. But holy shit, even you had never seen it like this before. Maybe he had a point. When you looked at it, the pressure you endured from everyone around you, the endless parties your agent had booked you to attend, the new album, the promos and press tours, actual tours, the substance addiction scandal, all the shit with your ex that tanked your reputation, hitting rock bottom… 

The last year had been hell, to say the least.

“How do you know all that?” Your question was genuine, and he gave you a quizzical half smile and a little shrug.

“When I told you earlier that we’ve all been there…” He trailed off. “Just know that I know how it feels. To have pressure to be someone you’re not”

“Well” You took a deep breath. “Thank you, I think I needed to hear that”

“Don’t mention it” He leaned back in his chair, before his expression subtly changed. “Actually, I’d have a little request, if you don’t mind”

“Go ahead” 

“Could you play that song for me?” He asked. “I’d like to hear it”

You smiled and nodded at the innocence of his request. Of course you could do that to the person that literally swooped in and saved the day, and provided you with care after your own shit show. You began strumming the song you were playing just before, this time fully singing along. It had been years since you had played it, but it was your favourite you had ever written, and you still remembered it by heart. It made you smile even more, definitely bringing you in a good mood. You played the last chords of the song and looked up to see Jason hanging onto every sound.

“I…” He began. “Wow. Why was that never released again?”

You shrugged lightly. “My agent wouldn’t let me, I guess”

“You should release it anyway” He continued. “This is honest to god amazing”

“Thanks” You let out a quiet laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “Honestly, I wish I could just… Fire everyone. And get back to the basics, release my on stuff, you know?”

“Then do it”

“I can’t just do it” You replied quickly in confusion. “There are contracts and--”

“Sure you can” He said, an amused yet relaxed expression on his face. “I, Jason Todd, give you the explicit permission to use the Wayne name to scare any lawyer getting in the way of your full emancipation”

You laughed at his self assured grin, but also to hide your surprise. Of course, you knew the Wayne lawyers were the best in town and would most probably put the fear of god in the heart of your record label and agent, but you still weren’t sure if he was kidding or not.

“I’m serious” He added after a moment. “If you need help to get out of these contracts, we’re more than willing to help”

“You’d do that for me?” You asked carefully. “I’m just a stranger”

“Ah well, helping strangers is kind of our thing here” He hummed, looking up at the ceiling before his glance met yours again. “Besides, it’s really cool that you’re here. All of us will so be plugging that we know you in every conversation from now on. Especially Dick”

You laughed again, lighter this time.

“Be my guest” You grinned. “I doubt it’ll achieve anything but raised eyebrows these days but if it makes you feel good…”

“Superb” His grin matched yours. “Now, I’ll let you play in peace”

“And I’ll let you read in peace”

You exchanged a smile, then kept messing around the chords as he picked up his book again.

[theliterarywolf]

I was planning on keeping on with pokemon (havent played since the OG black ver) with either ultra sun or ultra moon since i tought these two would be a superior version of the original two like the 3rd game of every pokemon (Platinum, Crystal, Emerald and Black/White 2). So i want to know before considering buying either: why do you think they are bad?

Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon are basically the same situation as what happened with Super Mario Galaxy 2: there were one or two left over ideas when the main game was complete, the manpower, online service, and development software wasn’t in-house to support launching said ideas as a DLC expansion pack for 20-30 dollars so they took the base game they already had, made those one or two ideas the forefront, said ‘FUCK YOU, EAT MY ASS AND WRITE A DISSERTATION ON HOW IT TASTES’ to any semblance of a good story, and launched it for the same price as the original Sun and Moon. 

You know what Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon add to the core game? 

Two clumsy mini-games, a secondary campaign that really does nothing?? Because, at the end of the day, Ultra Necrozma is the definition of a ‘Gimmick Pokemon’, a third campaign that only serves to make the villain team leaders from past games look like idiots, and a complete bullshit retcon of the actually engaging story that vanilla!Sun and Moon produced. Some spoilers I suppose, even though the heyday of these games has long since gone.

And, yes, you should read this in the same tone as one of VivaReveries’ “X But Really Fast” videos.

Vanilla!Sun and Moon: “I’m a grieving woman who, in trying to avoid the grief of losing my husband to the void, I flung myself into researching the strange creatures of a new realm, not knowing that my constant exposure to them is degrading my mental state to the point that I start abusing my son and daughter, and torturing this innocent minor-deity we found in the name of science so I can open up a portal to be with the strange creatures I developed a pseudo-sexual fascination for

But then my daughter steals the minor deity away, goes into hiding, has a game-long coming-of-age development cycle and soon learns to not only develop into her own person but realizes that caring for mentally-unstable relatives may be a thankless feat at times, but the most important thing for you is keeping your own health and mental state in mind, that sometimes means cutting yourself off from their toxicity – oh, by the way, I psychologically manipulated the leader of the local hooligan gang who is going through his own reaction to his troubled relationship with his father and not being allowed to compete in this game’s TOURNAMENT ARC and has imprinted on me in order to cope – 

Okay, back to business proper. After climbing a big ass mountain, bumping into the hippie fairy lady (which NEITHER VERSION OF THE GAME DID ANYTHING USEFUL WITH), and summoning either the deity of the Sun or the Moon (though, weirdly enough, the sentimental relationship between said daughter and the cover legendary seems more genuine in Moon than it does in Sun), and after confronting said hooligan gang-leader who finally realizes that I’ve gone CUCKOO FOR KOMALA PUFFS, my daughter and MC confront me in Ultra Space where I’m too busy gushing and fawning over my PRECIOUS, MIND-MELTING, LOVECRAFTIAN JELLYFISH BABIES THAT I’M SO OBSESSED WITH, BY THE WAY, THAT I FORCED SAID DAUGHTER TO WEAR CLOTHES THAT LOOK LIKE THEM, 

They challenge me to a battle and I have a FUCKING BADASS HYBRIDIZATION TRANSFORMATION which is admittedly wasted since they just end up fighting my Pokemon. I’m finally defeated by a finishing blow by the cover legendary, I’m near death, but my daughter comes to try and talk to me before I go and my last words of the game, after having this unhealthy fixation with beauty and MIND-MELTING, LOVECRAFTIAN JELLYFISH BABIES and mentally abusing my daughter… 

“Lillie… Since when did you become so… beautiful?”

Signifying that this lilly has managed to blossom without the sickening, overbearing greenhouse of her mother’s unstable affections.

Also, there’s a conversation with Hau that you can have that seems to be a Mandela Effect situation because some people swear they got it, others say no, but it let’s you know that Hau is from a broken family as well since his piece of shit dad left home because he was sick of always being in his grandfather’s shadow – Giving the game the overall theme of the Trials and Tribulations of Family.

… 

Ultra Sun and Moon: “Hey, guess what? I abused my son and daughter and placed this island nation in mortal danger, not because I was mentally unhinged due to grief and MIND-MELTING, LOVECRAFTIAN JELLYFISH BABIES… But because there’s a giant ‘ORIGINAL OP CHARACTER, DONUT STEEL’ gold dragon in between universes and rather than discuss said threat with the leaders of this island nation, I’m going to jeopardize everything, torture a minor deity, and in the end make everything WORSE because it is my job to save the POOR, STUPID BROWN PEOPLE BECAUSE THEY OBVIOUSLY CAN’T FEND FOR THEMSELVES!!

*deep breath* 

Oh, also, I end up getting kidnapped by Giovanni and serving as nothing more than the catalyst to justify the Rainbow Rocket campaign. Lol”

The only thing that USUM have on Vanilla!Sun and Moon is a few extra pseudo-legendaries, the Ultra Wormhole mechanic that allows you to find Pokemon and Ultra Beasts you can’t get in the main campaign, and the UltraSpace characters they introduced for the Ultra Necrozma conflict. 

That’s… It. 

Jesus Christ, I don’t like Gen 5 but at least Black 2 and White 2 enhanced the gameplay of their core games and gave an interesting story-campaign and antagonist. 

Oh, I’m sorry, the other thing you get in USUM is a brief cutscene with your Starter Pokemon before you enter the Championship League. Whoo.

If you want to experience Gen 7 in a good way, gameplay and story-wise, just play the original games. There’s literally no reason to play USUM unless you REALLY want to see Pennywise’s and the Great Wall of China’s Pokesonas.

[elliotwarren]

🎊 happy birthday gabriel adams! 🎊 

It was always his eyes that people noticed first. Well. That was a lie. If they got past his skin color, the way his fingers dug into his arms, the soft whispers to invisible things, it was his eyes. Silver, Meg always said, making him sound something special. Gabriel let a smile tweak his features and brushed dark, messy hair off his forehead. That was just as pointless as correcting Meg. 

all art pictured was commissioned by me and are not free to use. feel free to dm me for specific credits. 

I’m about to unpack a lot of shit and get way more intimate with everyone on this blog than I have previously, so I hope you’re mentally prepared for this. It’s going to be a hard read, but I’ve been wanting to talk about this stuff for a long time. 

so almost every year I try to talk about my oldest character, Gabriel. This year, I wanted to dig a little deeper, and address myself as a writer. Within the last couple of years, I’ve had to own up to some shit with this character. I was a bad writer.

“No, Elliot, you weren’t bad! You were just - “

No folks, I’m not discussing my skill as a writer. I’m specifically addressing my treatment of people, representation, and stereotypes.

I was a shitty person.

cw for ableism, discussion of own health, suicide mention, drug use in a fictional character, and general shitty handling of mental illness. 

I’m not super positive Gabriel started as Gabriel. The earliest I remember him was a novel I wrote my Freshman year - in 2006ish. I think I vaguely remember him existing as a something earlier on in middle school, but nothing concrete until later. My first ever novel! It was exactly 100 pages, front and back, written in black pen. It was a blatant rip off of an Anne Rice novel where vampires took over a city and killed and ate them in their court. I don’t even remember if that was actually the plot, but I do remember it being Anne Rice inspired, which is a whole other problem altogether. Towards the end of the novel, I asked my friends in choir class to check off next to character names to decide who died. 

I think 3 out of 45 characters made it out alive. Also there were 45 characters. Many of them had scenes from their POV. Yeah. 

Gabriel wasn’t the protagonist then, and he rarely has been until the last handful of years. He was just an edgy probably vampire guy who appeared at random with cryptic warnings, who periodically would get the protagonist out of trouble while also existing as a side antagonist. He did survive - although barely. 

Later, I had the super unique wild idea to make him ‘crazy’. I took to roleplay forums, where other teenagers I barely knew told me that my writing was good and my character was interesting, and I plagued them with my edgy, cool, sometimes serial killer character that all the girls were into. Sometimes the guys, which I was cool with - after all, I had a lesbian couple as a friend in high school. You know, I was tolerant. 

Made you uncomfortable yet? Me too. 

Gabriel was the troubled white boy who heard voices and saw ghosts, somehow got by as a homeless teenager, and sometimes he killed people but it was definitely not his fault. He went on to win character of the month on a forum based around experimental testing inside an asylum. I was ecstatic. I took him everywhere, and people loved him. Not one person called me out. Not a one. 

My freshman year of college, I joined a group on deviantart, where talented artists I’d admired from a distance were glad to have a rare writer, and after making a nervous start with another character I stepped in with Gabriel. The group was entirely based around the story line, as well as critique and self-improvement. I was ecstatic. 

With the assistance of a roleplay partner - now my roommate - I went on to finish my first novel in years, with Gabriel as one of two protagonists. I still have it, somewhere, printed out in a binder. Pretty sure I left it at a friend’s house. It featured Gabe, and my roommate’s character, after Gabriel ‘accidentally’ almost killed her because of the voices and kidnapped her to his apartment in an attempt to fix his mistake. The novel ended with Gabriel realizing he was an idiot, and heavily implied that he killed himself via morphine, which he was also somewhat addicted to for no apparent reason.

At some point in the mess, I down spiraled. I was upset and miserable and something in my brain finally cracked. I’d been dealing for years what I later learned to be chemical depression, but a specific event in my life caused a complete and total meltdown. I stopped writing. I was constantly making posts to tumblr rather than talking to anyone about how I wanted to kill myself. I stopped going to class, stopped seeing people, and my roommate at the time heard me crying at night more than once. I was completely devastated, and I will never forgive that person. 

Later, I made a bigger mistake and lost someone very close to me. In the last couple of years I’ve come to terms that I was definitely in love with her. I can never repair that damage. I snapped, for awhile, and became obsessive and gross and just a really shitty person. 

I eventually realized college and the situations were killing me, and after 4 and a half years - so close to graduating, everyone said, not realizing I’d failed most of my classes - I made the decision to drop. I moved in with my old college roommate, bummed around their house, and intended to go back to work at a summer camp like I did every year. Except I got fired, for essentially being too old and likely for budget reasons, as I made more than everyone else there. 

Obviously this was really good for my mental health.

Somewhere during the mess I started taking a look at self improvement, and turned back to writing. More specifically, what I was doing wrong. The more I wrote the more I started looking into developing Gabriel as a character, with an actual background I wasn’t making up to seem edgy as I hopped from forum to forum, and I started looking into how to write him accurately.

And I mourned all that time and all the damage I did and how many people who probably silently put up with my shit. 

I spent years writing Gabriel as this deranged, unhinged being who hurt other people. Now I try to make up for it - I spend extensive time reading articles on mental illness, specific case studies, listening to interviews and doing my best to soak up every little detail I can. 

Gabriel is schizophrenic, primarily experiencing mild visual hallucinations and occasional auditory hallucinations, typically in times of stress. He does not kill people - if he does, it has nothing to do with his mental health and more to do with that, once again, Gabriel is a vampire. Like me, he copes with depression and anxiety, born of a situation. I shifted Gabriel from being a shitty, ‘crazy’ white boy to a nervous, wary young man dealing with some shit that no one should have to deal with. I researched therapy, and coping mechanisms, and even found some that help me with my issues. I created Jamie, Gabriel’s psychiatrist and friend. I decided to cut some of the mayo out of my work and made Gabriel’s mother an immigrant from Mexico, and it’s been worth it! I get to research a fascinating, fun culture, and it has improved Gabriel as a character to have a culture. 

I realized, at some point, that I’m asexual - and Gabriel is too. I’ve put a lot of myself into him. It’s been therapeutic, and I feel better about Gabriel as a character. 

There’s been a lot of change over the years. Gabriel is an entirely different person, and it has greatly affected and I think improved my writing. More than anything, it has changed my outlook on everything, and I hope that some day I can some how make up for all the damage I did with presenting him the way I did. People with schizophrenia are no more likely to hurt or kill someone than anyone else, and many if not most serial killers are just shitty entitled white people. Like me. 

It’s been a long time - at least 12 years, if not more. I’ve changed a lot. Gabriel has too. I hope that the next 12 years let me finally finish telling a story about him, and that the world as a whole stop tip toeing around mental illness. I wish someone had told me 12 years ago that making someone ‘crazy’ wasn’t cool or neat or unique, and that I was a super toxic, harmful person. 

I’m never going to be writing a story about what it’s like to live and cope with mental illness. While I deal with it, it’s not really my story to tell. I’m never going to tell a tale about what it’s like to be the son of a Mexican immigrant in shitty white america. That’s not my job either. I might tell the story of being a queer asexual, because that definitely applies to me. But Gabriel is a vivid person to me, and I’m glad I’ve learned proper representation. I’m sure I’ll still make mistakes, and I keep waiting for someone to call me out on something. I wish someone had. I wish someone had said, hey, if your protagonist is also the villain and the only mentally ill person in the story, you’re a bad writer and you should feel bad.

That’s your personal call out, if it applies. I hope not. 

Don’t be afraid of representation of the ‘touchy’ subjects. But do right by them. Talk to people from those situations, read stories by people from those situations whether it’s relevant or not, watch interviews, see movies. If you can’t do right by a culture or an illness or a person, that’s okay. But take a step back, work hard, and just go for it. Don’t be afraid to ask for opinions, critique, help. 

Please. Learn from your mistakes. 

I talked a whole fucking lot and if you read all of it, you’re a star. Good night.

[clement-weather]

Hey there—I'm the person who wrote the original document (Alison) and I just found out about this post after a person in-game messaged me saying "thank you" for sharing it here.

I have to say: it was a liiittle awkward, considering I'm not the person who posted it here nor was I even consulted about the edits made to share it—But, I do appreciate the intent behind that and I'm super thankful to everyone who's been spreading word around.

I do want to make a few clarifications, though.

1 - The names mentioned and the screenshots that I shared in the original document, which are now blocked out in this version, were each used with permission from the players they involved; I wouldn’t have included them otherwise.

2 - We’re not the only people who’ve been harassed by this person, as demonstrated by the set of screenshots at the bottom of page 2. I’ve gotten a lot of really kind and supportive messages from others and that’s been a little overwhelming at times, but I’ve also gotten messages from other women who were harassed by Jean Lannes’ player (and men who he’s lashed out at because he wanted to do ERP with their female characters); there’s someone who he’s fucked with for two years on WoW, Twitter, and FF14 (although the GMs there are apparently better at dealing with bad actors?) because of how they refused to RP with him.

My genuine belief is that this guy has been harassing people for YEARS and that’s why I included his guild history on Page 10. Some of those names, as longtime players on our server can confirm, were active in like 2010 and he’s deeply invested into his time on this game; validating that is clearly important to him, which is why (as I’ve been learning) he uses his mass-invite guild to surround himself with people that aren’t aware of his behavior until after they “get on his bad side” and are turned into scapegoats / removed.

3 - Jean Lannes’ player has been trying to dodge these things by spinning a gross narrative about Thaddeus (the person they called a bunch of slurs), saying that he’s an ex-member of their mass-invite guild and that he was removed for “trying to groom an underaged minor.” This is a blatant lie and easily refuted by the dozens upon dozens of people who know that Thaddeus hasn’t been in a guild other than with his friends since Summer 2020, when he stopped being an officer in The First Regiment.

On page 7 and 8, there was supposed to be a log of my conversation with Jean Lannes on his level 3 alt where he was caught lying about who he associated with, how he associated with those people, and digging himself further and further into that hole; those chatlogs were important to emphasize that he isn’t afraid to just make shit up straight to your face. He lied about being friends / in daily contact with Ismond and Maxen; it’s not hard to anyone who knows those names to message them for a confirmation check.

This guy is a compulsive liar and nobody should be taking anything he says at face-value, especially when he’s trying to discredit a person calling out his vile, unhinged behavior.

4 - Some other things I’ve been told are: (A) he made his guild after being pushed out from several Goldshire communities, because he was using his characters Shadiir and Shyriff to organize “group ERP” sessions and harassing women there, and (B) that he’s had several accounts and one of them is a “sockpuppet” where he pretends to be an australian woman with pictures of a random person and her baby; I’m pretty sure the latter-name is Traceyh, who - in a separate chat log I’ve seen - is a “guild officer” propagating the lie in Point 3.

5 - This document has gotten way, way, WAY out of my own circle and I appreciate everyone sharing it. I’ve gotten a lot of kind messages from complete strangers and it’s been a little overwhelming for my anxiety but I’m really glad to know that the information is spreading in a way that can support and protect others from this unhinged creep and whatever toxic environments he’s a part of.

If you want to use or share the original document I made, unedited, here’s the original link: Tinyurl.com/bruhhhWTF

i like to think it illustrates the vibe i had at the time of writing LMAO.

Resubmission with extra names blanked out, aside from the two who collected the info and decided to put the information out there. Let me know if there's anything else I need to do.

This is a named secret. TW: homophobia, racism

Jean Lannes, GM of the Crystal Shore Consortium is homophobic, racist, and basically a 4 year old edgelord. He also harasses people and is a creep in general. I happened to join his guild, and some blessed soul sent me the following document.

tinyurl.com/crystalshorecreepshowWGS As mentioned, I edited this to comply with WGS's rules. However, I will be posting the original uncensored document on my blog, so feel free to look there if you want to see all the details. But even the uncensored screen shots have him dropping the f slur and shit, its indefensible.

thank you for editing as requested, i realize it wasn't a small job.

posting this here because yikes what the fuck.

tw for slurs and the like.