#i feel like i repeated myself a lot but that's just how i function irl too so sorry not sorry

[yakuzabrainrotlive]

Couldn't play Y4 today because I was studying and taking care of irl stuff, so I'll just write my Akiyama first impressions post now, as promised! I've played up to the first cutscene with "Lily".

This was supposed to be, like, a surface-level thing where I kinda guess stuff and do some basic observations, but according to Microsoft Word I got... around 1200+ words deep. So yeah. Good for you guys who like to read my rablings that I didn't take my meds today! But also... this IS my unmedicated self's ramblings, written at 10-11pm so... (attempt to) read at your own peril!

For those of you who want the short version, TL;DR is provided (and highly recommended) at the bottom!

So, Akiyama! What a guy.

-He's low-energy and has trouble taking care of himself, his work and his surroundings (laid-back or depressed? maybe it's a little bit of both - as a treat. Maybe executive dysfunction?). This is clear in how messy his office is, how Hana reminds him to eat and brought him lunch (implying he regularly forgets to, or just doesn't eat), and how it seems to be a common occurence that she has to encourage him to do his work. And yet, despite the chill vibes and slow pace he keeps, he manages to also be chaotic in the way that he's unpredictable to those around him, in terms of his business strategy, and in how he makes quick decisions on the spot – ones that don’t make sense to people around him, based on what they (think) they know about him.

-In front of most people, Akiyama pretends to be all laid-back and just this… guy who just does his own thing because he’s quirky and doesn’t care, but he's not fooling me at all; he cares, and he cares a lot. About many people. He's literally looking after the homeless in town - so much so that they feel safe enough to let him into their space to have a chat and drink with them, and ask him for things.

^This is probably no small feat, considering how the homeless are treated in Kamurocho (there's literally groups who hunt them for shits and giggles) and how uncertain things are for them in general in that area. They seemed genuinely happy to see Akiyama.

-Now, an argument could be made that he's doing it for his own benefit: having the homeless population on your side can be an advantage (for example: the Florist used them for discreet info gathering), but... I don't see it. I think it’s because he’s been there and he feels a great amount of empathy for them. Now. Why do I think he wants to have a mask of indifference in the first place? Well, to put it simply - shit’s dangerous. He has enemies in the money lending industry, which probably includes numerous Yakuza groups too. Can’t be caught caring, y’know. Both for his sake, and theirs.

-And so. We get to the neon yellow elephant in the room that has to be addressed; the way he handles his loans. I think Akiyama only takes on clients who he sees as either A: having the potential to make it big - the ones he can later maybe benefit from, or who he simply sees as benefitting from his loans the most, or B: - heavily speculating here - good? (decent?) people who are down on their luck. Ones who, he thinks, deserve a second chance, people who don't have anyone else to ask for help. If he was in the business for money and other benefits alone, he’d be charging interest out the ass like all the others, but he doesn’t. He merely tests people to make sure they don’t grab the money and leave the country, or waste it and never pay him back. He wants to see these people succeed – at least the ones he thinks will use the money to get back on their feet or to become successful, that is. People who could be more, who could FLOURISH, had they some extra help from outside. The tests including stuff like volunteering and caring for the elderly further point to a possible more altruistic side to his business.

He can't just go giving money out - he'd go out of business very fast. So he lends, with no interest. Just a test of trustworthiness, and terms that he finds will give him some benefit back, as well. He is running a business here, so him wanting to get something back from the customers instead of them paying interest is fair. Terms will also motivate the lendees keep themselves on the right track AND probably ward off the worst of the bunch, the ones looking for the easiest, quickest money they can get.

-People genuinely think Akiyama is weird - crazy, even - because of how he runs his business, and he seems totally fine with that. Which further makes me believe he’s purposefully built up this a mask of an uncaring and sort of ...unhinged man. He could explain himself and openly state the goals he has for the clients to dispel this negative, 'crazy person' image people have of him. But... that’d just be suicide; he’d openly admit to competitors/enemies that he has people he cares about and that he wants to see his lendees succeed. That’d be like ASKING for extortion and for terrible things to happen to the people who have visited his business in the past or who will do so in the future.

-He's good at keeping his cards close to his chest, too: in one cutscene people wonder why lendees don't ever lend from him twice. And what's the answer to the question that we hear? Something to the effect of "I don't know. They probably wanna avoid interacting with that nutjob ever again". People have NO idea why he does things the way he does. They know he lends money to people he sees as having potential to succeed in the future, but they don't even consider the possibility that some lendees he's simply helping get back on their feet.

-As for his goals? No clue! Besides keeping the business running, I don’t feel like I have enough information on him to parse any long-term goals out of this guy. Maybe keeping Kamurocho as chill as it can be? To prevent unnecessary bloodshed? He did go out out of his way to settle the dispute between the… the uhh… *has to google the name* the Kanemura peeps and Ueno to prevent escalation of the situation? But then again, Arai seems to have been a long-time friend, so maybe it was just to make things easier for him? As of now, he doesn’t feel particularly ambitious.

As for speculation on his background? Since my facial memory (even for fictional characters) is total garbage, I’m not 100 % sure, but I think maybe he was in the photograph that was in his drawer? He seemed quite well-off in that one. So how does he end up homeless? I feel like he either joined the yakuza and the family he joined disbanded, leaving him with nothing. OR he suffered a career- or family-related setback that landed him on the streets? Him being ex-yakuza would make sense since he seems to be quite informed on all the relevant lore and relations between families. But he also DOES work quite close to the... darker side of things with his business being what it is. But... he also fights very well. We’ll see! Maybe they explained it aready? If they did, am sorry! I was playing the game too late into the night so I was kinda eepy towards the end. Gonna re-watch the cutscenes from late chapter 1 and early chapter 2 when I keep playing.

Now, any relation to characters from previous games I wanna speculate on? I don’t see any real reason to think he knows Kiryu; he only referred to him with his DoD moniker and didn’t seem too interested or thoughtful about it. It was just him referring to a famous person. Majima? Don’t see it either. Anyone else? I don’t really have any reason to think he knows anyone from the past games as of now.

TL;DR:

According to my, at-times very faulty, sensors that are prone to overcooking:

Akiyama is a kind person trying to give others the second chance they deserve (as he himself got), while also trying to disguise himself as a chronic IDGAFer at the same time because he has enemies. He's a kind man living in a world that tears people like him apart.

Mans is probably depressed or at least suffers from executive dysfunction or like... low blood iron levels, based on how low-energy he is and how little he seems to look after himself and his office, and how he seems to have a tendency to… go at his own pace at work. Hana keeps (or at least tries to keep) him functional - or that’s what it seems like, at least.

He probably offers loans based on if he thinks lendees will get back on their feet, or if the loan will make them flourish business-wise.

Ended up homeless, maybe because he was ex-yakuza or because of a setback in a civilian career or family life.

Can’t say how he ties to characters from previous games, or if he even does at all. Besides Nishiki unknowingly acting as form of divine monetary intervention, that is.

[edwinspaynes]

tell us more about cordelia! something you love, something you wish we knew more about, something you relate to, something you've discerned that we might not have seen yet, why she doesn't seem to know any neurotypicals yet might be neurotypical herself, etc. just cordelia. i think we should talk about her more

Cordelia, Cordelia, Cordelia!

She is my daughter. She delights me. She confounds me.

Despite being one of my favourite characters in TSC, I find everything she does baffling. Every time she is faced with a choice, any choice at all, she does the exact opposite thing than I would have done. For her, she makes the right choices. If I made her choices, though, I'd rip my own hair out. We are SUCH different people.

I actually really like this. A lot of my favourite characters are important to me because of the ways that I find myself mirrored in them. Matthew, Alastair, and Thomas are all great examples. Cordelia serves a different function to me as a window character. Watching her is like a huge character study in someone Very Unlike Me who's extremely complex, likeable, and ultimately lovely.

Matthew and Cordelia

The sole exception to this "Cordelia-and-I-make-different-choices" rule is when she runs off to Paris with Matthew, which I would have done. It would have been a good decision for me but was actually an awful one for her.

I'm going to be a little rambley here, but I want to talk a little bit about her relationship with my Best Blorbo Matthew. I think that she fundamentally misunderstands him, which is interesting for me to watch as someone who's so similar to Matthew. I might dissect the whole scene one day when I have time, but there's this bit where she's rejecting him where he's going on and on about all the places they can travel to. She says, "we can't always be running away." This was so interesting to me!!! Because it was so obvious to me that Matthew wasn't running away. He's planning his dream future full of unknown adventures, and he's trying to fit her in. She's too settled, she wants to be settled, and that's okay! They're just not compatible. But she so greatly misunderstands what he's trying to do, and I kind of turn my head to that scene to go "huh. That's why I don't understand her."

Daisy, My Daughter

There are so many things I love about Cordelia. I absolutely adore her bravery and her compassion, and I think she feels a lot. I think she's strong and independent.

I think that she's capable of being crafty and sneaky when she wants to be (see: the wording of the oath she has Lilith repeat to her in ChoT.) She's my daughter, my ridiculously frustrating daughter, who I know has a brain somewhere in there that she never uses.

I also will say that I really like the drive that she has to be a hero. It's refreshing to see a girl character who actively attempts to realize a goal like that rather than someone who's thrust into a world Chosen-One-Style. Both Clary and Tessa were "Chosen One" type characters, which served their genre well for the time. Cordelia, like Emma, was just an ambitious Shadowhunter, and I find her story very interesting as a result. And I like how Cordelia is in part driven by a desire for merciful, compassionate heroism (unlike Emma, who was driven by a desire for revenge). It sets her apart from all the other Emma-type Badass Warrior Girls who want to go out and kick as much ass as possible.

She's such a delightful person and one I would be proud to call a friend IRL. And she's a great character in a lot of ways, though I think there are some narrative issues holding her back.

Cordelia and Cassandra Clare's Narrative

I feel like Cordelia is the one character that I wish I could steal from Cassie and repurpose. I generally really like what Cassie does with most of her characters, and I like a lot of the things she did with Cordelia. If I didn't, I wouldn't love her so much. But I think that with some VERY MINOR tweaking, Cordelia could have been even better.

The issue with Cordelia is that the author gives her very little agency. The narrative serves to protect her and James as the Herongraystairs kids, and I get that, but it feels like Cordelia is often just dragged along for the ride. Like, she is the main character! Why is she given almost no agency or real choices? Why is she just swept along with the narrative as a pawn in this large chess game that is TLH? I was talking with a close mutual @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer a while back who said it would have been great if Cordelia became Lilith's paladin willingly to try to take power from all the awful men who abuse it. I would have loved this! If Cordelia had been allowed to get just a little bit messy, bend the rules of morality, and make some mistakes, she would have been even more incredible than she is.

The Impact of Lacking Agency

This narrative issue manifests as my least favorite Cordelia character trait: her hyper-naivete. She is so naïve in a way that is almost unbelievable to me as a reader. Like, her response to "dad's an alcoholic who's been abusing me since I was 10" is "huh!!!! That's why I found gin bottles everywhere and he was super clunky and they stopped serving wine! Who'd have guessed?" And, she literally swore fealty to this dude who said he was Wayland the Smith because... he said so? Like ??? Girl!!! Other people, especially your brother, have paid a great price for that naïveté. That bothers me.

The thing that's annoying about this is that I've come to the conclusion that Cassie didn't intend for Cordelia to be so naïve. It was a side effect of giving her no agency. If someone is an adult, that means they necessarily have agency; if someone has agency, they lose moral purity. Ergo, Cordelia was necessarily naïve.

Alastair and Cordelia

I also feel like re: the writing, I find Alastair and Cordelia's dynamic to be simultaneously excellent and irritating. Because he sacrificed his whole life for her! It should not have taken her several months and a murder accusation to marginally stand up for him! I'm sorry!

But I also really love their relationship, especially in ChoT. It makes me so happy to see them joking around together like normal siblings, and I feel like Alastair by Beloved Blorbo gets to kind of... be a normal guy with his little sister, if only a little bit. He doesn't need to act in loco parentis anymore, and they're immediately messing around. I love it.

Again, I wish the relationship were written in a more cohesive way. Maybe it's because I don't have a sibling. But it feels like Cordelia DOES acknowledge that Alastair is the constant lifelong protector that she wants to call out to when she's scared. But she also simultaneously says that he's like quicksand unprompted and tells Matthew that he must think she's terrible to love him.

Cassie, why!?

Cordelia and her Neurodivergent BFFs

This is a funny observation you make, that she "doesn't seem to know any neurotypicals yet might be neurotypical herself." And I agree, actually! I don't really have a lot of thoughts on this besides "that's just who she naturally wound up around because of her familial and life circumstances." What do you think of it? I'm curious to know. <3

[thistransient]

I am pretty sure I am going to stop taking class next semester. On one hand, after one year of studying and 6 months of having a student ARC, I could get a part-time work permit and national health insurance. On the other hand, class steadily wears down my mental health every semester until break, and I am almost certain trying to work on top of that would be disastrous. I thought about trying to go directly into working, but (as far as I know, anyone is welcome to prove me wrong) it’s impossible to convert a student ARC into a work ARC, so either way I need to leave the country and reenter. Covid definitely inflicted some mental trauma, so I can’t shake the fear that I’ll be barred entry back in for whatever reason, forcing my friend to clean out my apartment and ship everything to me in whatever country I inevitably take refuge in...

He just flew back from Vietnam today though and assured me Taoyuan Int’l Airport is back to pre-covid functionality. Having a gander at Skyscanner, I saw that the airline “Fly Gangwon” goes between Taipei and Yangyang International Airport (never heard of it, evidently somewhere near Seoraksan) which tempted me briefly until I looked up the company and promptly lost confidence that they’d still be in business by the end of March. I had entertained thoughts of going to Tokyo but flights are still too expensive. I’ve been to most cities/countries within affordable range of Taipei, so either I pony up for something new, or pick somewhere I liked enough to repeat. I fondly remember Okinawa having neither feral dogs nor rampaging scooters on the sidewalk, but it’s still not the cheapest option, and I don’t even know how my school is organising this last month of class (another new teacher? and god only knows who’s taking break when), so I’ve been waffling and having the usual big-life-change depression that always manifests around this time.

I’ve been reading Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents and it’s...well, it’s something, and I’m both a) not looking forward to my dad wanting to visit me this spring, and b) realising my whole relationship with my Chinese tutor was another bid for emotional intimacy with someone who was never capable of reciprocating the way I wanted, and I’m not sure how to extricate myself from this (class, our extracurricular artistic collaboration, my general mental entanglement, idk). I would like to make more IRL friends in Taipei, especially in my immediate area, but I’m not sure exactly how, when social engagement wears me out, and, ironically, I feel isolated because I speak tolerable Mandarin but I don’t look at all like someone who speaks tolerable Mandarin. Most of my friend-making in the past has relied on someone more extroverted adopting me and dragging me along, and I feel my odds of this have gone way down. I miss, in a way, my days of hostel work-stay where there was a constant influx of potential friends, and they all came directly to my door! Now I have to actively leave my room and go outside to a social venue and talk to strangers? However, this is not a lament with no plan for action, I’m really hoping if I hang out in Taipei while not taking class I’ll have the energy to go to more events, and sooner or later SOMETHING will happen. (I went to a “rope jam” the other week, I don’t know what I expected exactly but I am willing to go again.)

I had a moment yesterday in which I asked myself exactly what I’m hanging around in Taiwan for now anyways. I’ve basically burnt myself out with classes, I’m faced with the prospect of getting a job I’m not thrilled about just to stay in a place where honestly I’m kinda lonely and touch-starved. It was a safe space to hang out while I worked on transitioning, processing some of my never-ending queue of issues to be processed, and immersing myself in a special interest, but now what, huh? Don’t get me wrong, Taipei is a city where I find a lot of joy in everyday little things, and that definitely makes it easier to keep going alone. At the same time, I had a significantly better social network and support back in 2017, and I’m missing that connection. I’ve read that part of contentment is finding fulfillment in what one does, and I’m also at the point in advanced language study where the returns are very mild and subtle relative to effort expended. (I hadn’t considered that as a factor til I wrote it out, but it tracks.) So the next step is to look for work, and see how that changes things. Well, once I pick somewhere to fly to in April, anyways. 

[liveandletrain]

So I want to talk about this properly, and kind of bare my soul on the internet (because that always goes so well)

online fandom shipping, while not the ultimate straw that broke the camels back (that was actually something that I am far more ashamed of the lengths it took, but I'll get to that in a minute) in getting me out of the hyper-conservative, homophobic, xenophobic mindset that I grew up with, did a lot of the footwork. (Genuine credit also does go to my mom, who despite her own opinions, is very open-minded in some very specific ways that planted a lot of seeds in little Baby Rain's mind.)

When I was 12-14 years old and just starting to poke around the limited internet available to me, i was only barely aware of gay people as a concept. And I mean barely. (I was an especially oblivious child, and also living in the bubble of the fairly isolated conservative religious community I grew up in, where my only real exposure to the idea would have been the sort of vitriol my mom went out of her way to keep away from us. I am sure my dad said all sorts of shit, it just didn't register with me.)

And then I found the archives. The forums. The isolated fandom communities. There wasn't as much shipping at first, I think the first one I found was for Narnia. I'm not sure when I first encountered the ships, I don't really have a functioning memory. I remember fuzzy, isolated moments and feelings rather than anything concrete.

My fandom experience, until the past handful of years, was an extremely secretive and isolated one irl.

And I remember the intense guilt that I felt for years for even looking at The Gay Things. As I branched out from Narnia and Lord of the Rings into Harry Potter and several old lady drama and procedural shows. As I discovered the world of comic books and the online Star Wars fandom. LiveJournal and ff.net and fandom-specific archives. The mental gymnastics I went through to justify to myself reading and even looking for it. Somewhere in here I encountered Supernatural and the omegaverse and that one really tied me up in knots.

(Speculative fantasy has always been something I loved and the omegaverse had me hook line and sinker, both for the kink and the porn that I was genuinely too young for at the time but also for the way it opened a whole new world to me as a way of understanding humans and the ways we identify ourselves.)

I eventually (i was maybe fifteen at the time?) talked myself around to the idea that it fell under the concept of "fiction is using a lie to tell a truth" to use the words I did then. And that The Gay Stuff was the same as the idea of magic and fairy tales. As long as you understood it wasn't real or good irl, then using it to tell a story was perfectly fine. And so the guilt was still there but a little bit less so.

And I continued this way into college. I attended a liberal arts university, one that is extremely liberal politically as well. (At least at the time.) It was a bit of a culture shock for me, though not as much as it would have been had I not spent over five years deeply entrenched in internet fandom already.

And even so I know for a fact I said some absolutely horrific things to people and undoubtedly hurt them deeply. This includes one of the people I am still closest to in the whole world to this day. She has graciously accepted my apology, while denying its necessity.

I was simply unable to accept anything outside my own personal belief system.

The mindset I had was so deeply entrenched it took one very specific thing to pull me out of it.

It was my senior year of university. I was TWENTY TWO YEARS OLD. Three years into a literature degree. I was sitting in my car outside in a university parking lot, arriving on campus after my student teaching for the day. And like a thunderbolt out of the blue, I knew that I was asexual.

Let me repeat that.

It took me realizing and accepting that I, myself, was queer, and thus, part of "the other," for me to start learning how to humanize people different than myself.

And to this day that is my greatest shame.

And this is also why, despite my own frustration, I try my hardest to have compassion and patience for people who think the way I used to.

And honestly it was still a significant process from that point (one continuing still), but that was the moment that flipped it.

I had to unlearn so many things, purity culture, in all its incarnations, most of all. It was another two or three years before I accepted my aromanticism, and another two or three before admitted I am also a lesbian.

I learned to listen to people with life experiences different to my own with understanding and learning, rather than skepticism and derision.

I learned to listen to people of different races and religions and to actually hear what they had to say, instead of filtering it through every layer of my own biases before I allowed myself to think about it.

And yeah, there were lots of elements to it, but it started with people writing about gay kissing on the internet. Because sometimes those baby steps have to be pretty goddamn small for someone to be able to reach them.

i do not care if someone learned compassion from a cartoon or a comic or an anime im just glad they're here with us now a better person fighting the good fight. should it have taken something so trivial? maybe not- but it's in the past! and this is the now! and if they're objectively better for it who cares

[floatingbook]

I've no idea if this is the right place to ask this, probably not but I'm a bit desperate since I've got no one to talk to irl about this. I feel massive, my bmi is considered healthy, people would describe me as average in every aspect, at least from the side. From the front I feel I look like a personified bulldog, an ox, stupid dumb eyes, weirdly shaped mouth, and my face is still kind of my main selling point. I've got big shoulders, broad hips and upper tights, mostly muscle, I done very little to get them. When I went to the gym I built up a bit more muscle and quit immediately it just highlighted everything even more, that stuff luckily went away after a while but only as far as what I gained through the exercises, the rest stayed. I probably would be completely ok with myself if I had grown a bit taller, the proportions would fit a lot better then.

Next to other women (and enough men) I feel like a cartoon character that was placed into the wrong series, a completely other "drawing style" for lack of better words. I hate myself so much, I don't leave the house other than for work and chores anymore, I always feel like a clown. I apologize for the word vomit, but I'm desperate, do you have any suggestions? Anything I could read, listen to?

You seem to have a very skewered perception of your body. From what you have written, you’re healthy and strong, so you have little to worry about health wise? You don’t describe having trouble to carry out any action physically, so you are in good physical condition? And apparently, you get strong fast when you put yourself into it? All of this sound great to me. We often aren’t good judges of wether we’ve put a lot of work into getting things done, so I’m taking your affirmation that you did very little to earn your muscles with a grain of salt. It’s more likely that you have fallen into a habit of discounting your own work. That, and the fact that not all women have the same metabolism. We don’t all built muscle the same way, and in that case you’d certainly be better served by working into looking at it gratefully, instead of putting yourself down for something you’re naturally better at than other women. Life is not a competition, we have different characteristics and advantages from the beginning, and denying it or pretending it has any moral weight does not help you move forward.

You’re not a clown, you very likely look nothing like a bulldog nor an ox. You’re maybe a little on the short side, but a strong woman. You would feel better about yourself if you focused on what you have: a functioning, healthy, strong body, one which allows you to carry out the tasks you want to do. What others think about your face is irrelevant, because 1. you can’t do anything about it (you can’t control their minds) 2. you can’t do anything about it (are you going to get plastic surgery? to switch bodies?) 3. do you really want to hold yourself to the irrealistic standards of social media? there’s nothing genuine about full make-up photoshopped faces and bodies, so your scale of judgement is never going to be satisfied 4. why do you let others have all the power over your feelings about yourself?

Do you judge other women you see in the street like this? Do you think to yourself “oh she’s an elephant”, “oh she has a dog’s face”, “oh her proportions are crazy”? I bet not. You’re walking and worrying about how they judge you. Except they aren’t, just like you they are wondering “does she think i’m too short and too wide?”, “does she think my haircut makes me look old?”, … There are way less people judging you than you think, and for those who do, do you think they obsess over you specifically all day? At worst, they see you, you register in their brain, they make a comment to themselves, and then they move on. You don’t live rent-free in people’s heads. We all have better things to do and bigger fish to fry than ponder the BMI of strangers on the street and then obsess over it for days.

A small exercise to put things into perspective, would you talk about one of your friend like this? Would you disparage her like this? Then why is it acceptable to do it to you? You should treat yourself like you would a friend. You need to be your own friend.

Being short is not a moral failing, it’s just a fact. Being strong, having big shoulders, broad hips, strong thighs and muscle is not a bad thing. It only makes you a normal woman. And we all have to accept that we are just ourselves, nothing more, and that we’ll never be anybody else. There’s no point in wishing you were more like “other women” because it won’t happen, you’re just setting yourself up for lifelong misery. I guarantee you that you are not a cartoon character next to other women. Women have an extensive range of body shapes, we’re not all just carbon-copies of each other with you as the single outlier.

Maybe you’re not looking at yourself enough, or looking at yourself too much with others’ eyes. By the latter I mean that you’re always looking at yourself in mirrors or in pictures, in the reflections in glass windows when you go out. You’re not looking directly at yourself. You’re looking at a distorted, at a filtered image of yourself. You’re looking at something distinct from yourself, something alien. Cover mirrors, stop taking selfies, try to forget that constructed image for a while. Look at yourself with your own two eyes and nothing else if you really have to look. Don’t focus so much on having an appearance while you exist and instead focus on existing. Pretend you’re invisible. Wear your sloppiest clothes on a grocery errand and realise that no one cares. You’re not going to be arrested over it, the cashier is not going to refuse your money for it. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to matter.

You have nothing you need to hate yourself for. You are just a woman, alive. That’s what you should focus on. You’re fine, you’re normal, you’re average, you’re just alive. Push yourself a little, get out there, nothing will happen to you and it will become easier.

If anyone has any reading or listening to suggest, feel free to link it in the notes. But I think that what you need most, here, is to cultivate an attitude of not caring about it. Try to relax about existing. There’s mental reframing to do, certainly, but most important is repeated practise. Go out there and exist.

[zhuhongs]

なんか私の想いが溢れ出した. i went out with some friends last night and every time i go out i always realize just how bad i am at communicating and how bad I am with people. (long meandering post under the cut. feel free to ignore its unfocused and long.. like 2k words under there)

I’ve mentioned this before but I don’t really talk much irl. I don’t talk, I can’t connect properly. Every time I’m out with people I just feel fundamentally, like… different. So a group of my irls friends plus me were going to the movie theatre and I personally really hate movie theatres. I knew we were going to one and prepared myself thinking “oh it’ll be fine bc you'll be with friends, just enjoy their company '' But god I really hate movie theaters. It’s been so long, i forgot how much I really really hated them. They’re so loud and bright. I’d much rather watch a movie at home but tbh I also just don’t like movies bc I can’t sit through them and I can’t focus and I don’t get invested easily and I need to be doing something with my hands at all times. To make matters worse, my friend's friend that I really don’t like came along. I just, I don’t like her. She’s just too loud and attention seeking and childish. Like she says things for a reaction, like rlly not okay things sometimes and I just can’t stand her. like we went to see godzilla vs king kong and then entire movie she kept YELLING "IF THEY DONT KISS I WANT MY MONEY BACK" and i was like... you are 21 yrs old oh my god.. this isnt ur tumblr blog in middle school. shut up. But here’s the thing, I don’t know how to tell her or anyone that. Like I just can’t figure out a good way to say it, so I put up with it. Things like this just make me feel incredibly annoyed. I always talk on here about how if I have an issue with anyone, I’ll just say it like an adult. But in face to face situations I just don’t know how to say things. Well I do know how to say it - it’d be easy.  I just hate having to do it. Like I don't have to say the whole thing about how I don’t like her but when she says like “simp” when she’s nonblack I could just be like. “Hey don’t say that, here’s why” and I’m sure she’d stop. Yet I can’t bring myself to have that one moment of discomfort to tell her to stop yelling in my ear or stop saying things that make me annoyed. I feel useless in a way. ちゃんとできない。 ちゃんと伝えない。During the entire movie I was thinking to myself that I’d rather be home watching a drama by myself and doing hw. I also hate going out for other reasons. I hate being seen. I hate my appearance. I know I don’t have to be pretty, I only need to exist for me. Like wow, I just have so many body image issues, and they all manifest heavily as soon as I go out in public. 

But afterwards I changed my mind a bit. There was a moment where we were outside running around in the street and it reminded me of that one scene in AIB episode one with Chota, Karube, and Arisu in the street and I was rlly like… wow… maybe human connection really is good. It doesn’t matter if I’m pretty or good at talking, sometimes, to laugh and be silly wth others is all you need to make your night. Just one moment, just one person really is all it takes. We all went out for dinner afterwards and it was really really fun. I enjoyed it, there really is something about eating with someone that brings you closer to them.  

The entire time though, I didn’t talk much. I don’t really know when to cut in in a conversation to a point where it feels right. I feel like by saying my piece I’m interrupting others just to say something that wasn’t really of any use. Really, I prefer silence with others. I’m bad at talking in social situations but I’m great at talking in classes and at work because of the context. Because I’m expected to engage there. The pretense is different. Like you’re supposed to contribute in those places. It’s acceptable to talk there. But for me, it doesn’t really feel acceptable to just share about myself like that in a social group setting. I wish I could always communicate like how I am doing here. It’s so much nicer online. I get to post my full complete thoughts without bothering any of you. My words can easily be disregarded and just flipped through. It’s passive. Posting is passive, talking is active. And sometimes, people don't really want to talk to others, they just want to say their piece. Like when talking about their problems, often we just want to say it and the act of saying those words is all we need. We don’t want input, it annoys us. I don’t like to cut in, and I can never find the right words to say. Even right now, none of this feels like it’s coming out correctly. None of my words feel like they’re coming out correctly nowadays, but this is the only way I know how to be. If I can’t post my thoughts on here, even if they come out crooked and ugly, I may never speak again. I have to keep talking, and typing, and trying otherwise I’ll never get any better. And I know it’s okay to do things wrong, but still, I can’t let myself do that. Again, I do fine when I’m at work and school. I’m functional, normal, you would never be able to tell how much is going on in my head. But in private, I may never speak again if I wasn’t spoken to. 

When I was younger, around 12 or 13, I remember something a friend posted on my first online community. They posted, quite honestly, that they never wanted to meet anyone on there irl. No matter how close we are, it would never be the same IRL. I didn’t get that sentiment at the time. To me, why wouldn’t you want to see your friends everyday in person? That would be great. But I think I get it now. I’m afraid that if I ever met any of you someday it wouldn’t be the same. I’m not really the same in person. I’m bad at talking, bad at connecting. I’m not a proper person. But I feel like that’s okay. It’s okay to just exist on here as I am. While my friend was talking to me on our drive back to her place (we carpooled) she was telling me about her life. And she was apologizing like “oh I’m sorry I keep talking about myself” but quite honestly I was glad to just be able to listen. At some point my friend kept asking me what was up so I decided maybe I’ll tell them the arcane secrets of how I’ve been into guardian and how all the characters rlly hit for me for personal reasons. That was really the only thing I thought that was of note to tell her about. Really I don’t think I’ve done or felt much new since I last talked to her. But as I was trying to explain I just wasn’t doing it right. She just didn’t get it and trying to talk about something like that just made me embarrassed to the point where I just dropped it and tried to just say, “oh yea, you got it, that’s it.” and move along bc I didn’t think she’d get it. She’s the type that doesn’t really get how you can make meaningful connections online. So whenever I try to talk to her about certain things, it just doesn’t register. I’ve learned to choose my battles. I didn’t really think she wanted to get it. So I didn’t tell her. I tried telling her about stuff I liked in the past and I just always stop halfway through. I can’t communicate properly. I can’t speak in a way that I think is worthy of being heard. So I don’t talk. It frustrates me to no end. It feels like everyone else can do it so easily, that I’m the wrong one. 

I had another friend from Uni message me about something and she was like “so what’s new with you, twin” (we have similar bdays and get along well so we call each other that) and tbh I just, didn’t know what to tell her. I had talked to her in a long time, so things had happened but nothing so easily said that I could just tell her over text. SO I just was like “work, school, yk how it is” and yea. I really am the one choosing not to let people in. It frustrates me to no end but I don’t know what a good starting point is ever. I feel like I should just send all my IRLS my long reflection essays next time they wanna know what's up. All the secrets to why I am the way I am are in there.

I’m scared of telling people how I feel about anything. IRL when I say something I often speak quietly, moreso like I’m only talking to myself. People often don’t hear what I had to say. And I don’t repeat myself. If it was something someone didn’t hear, in my head, that means that it wasn’t important enough to repeat. I’m afraid of talking and being misunderstood and never being able to be interpreted the way I mean. I want to convey all my thoughts correctly the first time. So i don’t repeat myself, not bc I’m mad at the person who didn’t hear me. It’s not about them, it’s about me. I don’t believe my words to be worth repeating. I don’t want anyone to stop the conversation for me. Just keep going, it won’t come out the right way anyways. I was taking a uquiz a week or so ago and one question was “what power do you want” and one option was smth like the power of comprehension. Which would make it so every time you spoke, that person would understand you the way you intended. That is the most ideal power for me to ever possess like it was unreal. I’m still thinking about that quiz. It was good.

I know that I’m worth being listened to and that my words are valuable enough to be heard but I don’t want to do that. I’d rather listen. I only like talking when it’s safe like it is here. I’m trying my best to get better though. I keep saying that I want to be a proper adult. I want to live right and without regrets and i really think communication is key to that. I’m trying. It’s hard but I’m trying. But still, I can only talk here a lot.  I can’t talk any other way. I don’t tell my friends about my interests, it embarasses me to no end. 

Being on here is comforting though. When I talk about stuff like this, I always see a lot more people than usual like my post. I feel like you can all relate. Really, people are more similar than not. We all have very similar burdens and pains and baggage. It’s comforting, I'm not alone. My words might be able to help someone. Because when all of you talk about the same things, i also feel seen and comforted and since we are so similar, then the same is true for the things I say.

But anyways, I did a lot of listening tonight, and it reflects the sentiment above. People are the same. I was listening to my friend’s friend talking about her mom earlier and the entire time, I really resonated with what she was saying. I got it. Her mom’s situation was really similar to my own mom’s situation in the past. And I was just amazed at how I barely knew this girl but I felt really similar to her. I saw her differently after learning all that. It was really a great thing. ANd on the way home, my friend was telling me about her life recently and some things andi really understand what she was going through. I didn’t say anything, because again, I don't like to interrupt. And when I try and be like ‘oh me too, it's the same for me too” I feel like I’m derailing. I know I’m not but I really think she needed to say her piece. So I let her. But the entire time, I thought about the things in my life that were the same as what she was feeling and it was beautiful. Life and human bonds are beautiful. Even when they are hard and messy and annoying, people all want the same things. They want to be loved and seen and understood. And in those moments when we feel seen, it’s worth more than any of those complicated feelings that come along with it. Not to be cheesy but wow… in order to reap the rewards of being loved, you really do need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known. I was glad I didn’t stay home watching a drama. I was glad that I went out. No matter how alienated I feel from others, there’s still merit in being around other people. No matter how much others may misunderstand you and annoy you, they are almost always worth more than being alone. That;s because deep down, we’re all the same.

I’m not good at reminding myself that. As I said here, I don’t let people see me. I don’t let people in, I’d rather keep them out. I’m a picky, boring person. I don’t like people easily and I don’t tell them much. I stay inside my own head and I don’t like to come out. I was raised that way. But people are worth it. Communication is worth it, no matter how hard. It’s all worth it. I need to try harder so I can be a person who is able to see and enjoy more beauty in this world. I spent my hr long drive home listening to music and ruminating on these thoughts, trying to plan out all the words I wanted to say here. I don’t think I said any of it right. I’m not satisfied with how I write nowadays. But writing, talking, conveying emotions, all of these things are worth doing. So no matter how crooked and awkward it comes out, I will keep doing it. It is my goal. 

[tibby]

I’m genuinely concerned about Twitter stan culture like it’s genuinely gotten out of hand. I deleted Twitter way back in the summer and I’ve never been happier. It really feels like some people’s parents just flat out didn’t teach them about internet safety. You would go on somebody’s carrd and find all their personal information including lists of their mental illnesses and triggers and then they’d be like “I love making friends please feel free to DM me anytime you need to vent or just want to chat even if we aren’t mutuals ilysm” and then all of their tweets would be like “tw/// ch*ld ab*se: my mom asked me to do the dishes today I hate her so much” “I just spent the last hour cutting my wrists” “*extensive personal anecdotes that reveal a ton of personal information*” and just.... do they not realize that the internet is not, in fact, their personal diary and can actually be very dangerous? And man everyone on there is extremely sensitive to the point where I genuinely cannot comprehend how they function in the real world. Repeat after me: THE INTERNET IS NOT YOUR SAFE SPACE. Not to mention the performative activism and insane identity politics. I swear I’m not one of those people who goes on and on about how annoying “woke” culture is because I mean a lot of modern activism is very constructive but the way that people on Twitter do it is just not very helpful at all.

yeah i still use twitter but it’s definitely not my main social media anymore and i feel like...the complete disregard for online safety is probably at its worst on there tbh. like even if you’re not giving away your address or phone number, sharing your age/face/name/general location is still...not good! and it’s a hell of a lot easier to find people irl these days. and it’s not as if only your friends are going to read your carrd with all your triggers, because people who want to use that information against you WILL jump at that chance. i try to be conscious of the info i share about myself online and even then i’ve been online long enough to receive threatening messages and been sent content that would upset me, and i shudder to think what’s going to happen to the kids who tell the entire internet the things that will specifically send them on a downward spiral, attached to photos of themselves and open dms.

[casually-inlove]

I got thinking after one of your last asks and I thought about mo again and how he doesn’t let people in easily. He has big walls up and he doesn’t let people close. Like even buzzcut who kind of seems to be a good friend of his and who he has known for some time is still someone who he keeps at a distance. I was thinking that maybe he started closing off and letting people in and accepting their affection since his father was taken to prison? Maybe he’s kind of afraid to let people love him [1]

Hi there~ Well, that was quite a read!

What you said about Mo not letting people in easily is very true. The boy is used to having his walls up, and he’s nearly always on his guard. Nevertheless, I’m not sure I would call it a direct consequence of his father being taken away. 

During the restaurant assault, Mo is shown to be very young, supposedly a pre-schooler. Did it traumatize him? Certainly. Parent separation hits young children very hard, and I cannot overemphasise the importance of a child having a notable caregiver figure in their lives. Whether there’s a good reason for the parental absence or not, it always leaves a mark on a child’s psyche. His father ending up locked up is a deep wound that nobody but his mother tried to stitch up. Also, I low-key suspect that his father might have been imprisoned on false charges, or that his case might not add up -- it’s not a simple “he’s done wrong, he’s an offender”.

What do we see when Mo goes to school? We see other young children judge Mo by his cover -- by the rumours of his father being an inmate (they are children, and children tend to be cruel). As soon as they hear the word “prison/criminal” they stop listening and then nothing else matters. When accused of stealing, Mo immediately starts a fight “to prove others wrong”, which only worsens the deal. The cruellest thing is that nobody bothered to actually learn anything about his father, yet all of them tried to poke that wound. Presumably, this situation had occurred many times more, leading Mo to close off and push people away -- why bother, if they all gonna poke around an old wound, either in order to make fun of him or out of idle curiosity? If they want to believe he’s savage, let them -- at least that keeps them away. And the rest is just as you said, She Li, gang, etc. So his father’s imprisonment certainly precipitated the growth of Mo’s hard shell, but it's not an immediate factor. What affected him immediately is the school milieu, other children being ignorant douchebags, She Li being a sadistic prick, etc.

Regarding his mom, I do think that Mo might have felt like he was a burden to her at some point. She works a lot just to keep them both afloat, and on top of that, she has to deal with those debt collectors. Mo wanted to drop out in order to start earning money -- no doubt, in order to take that burden off her shoulders. 

Given how others treated him, I could see Mo growing up to believe that no one but his mother truly loved him or cared for him and that he can only trust his family. That anyone else simply pretends to play nice in order to get close and fuck him over. It’s a common mentality among those who experienced bullying in childhood or adolescence. Almost all of them face the trouble of opening up.

Concerning He Tian, a lot has been said regarding his difficulty expressing his feelings, so I’m not gonna repeat myself. I see no point in crucifying either Mo or He Tian for the way they are. Both of them grew up without much needed emotional buffer -- Mo needed to be strong for his mom in order not to give her any more trouble than what she already had, and He Tian was brought up by He Cheng who isn’t all that emotionally expressive or affectionate. It goes without saying that their abilities to love and trust had been impaired. The important thing is that they are beginning to actually learn about each other, and that’s a first step to leaving their old habits behind. True, they often take a step forward, then two steps back, but that’s what makes their relationship dynamic true to life. They are just kids. They have a whole lot of maturing to do and a lot of things to learn through trial and error. That’s what growing up is about -- making mistakes, learning from them, making some more. 

I’m also of a mind that they might do sexual stuff before embarking on a romantic relationship precisely for the reasons you mentioned. It might feel “safer” for both of them. For Mo, physical closeness might be akin to a fight -- yes it could hurt, but a flesh wound heals itself, while a wounded heart festers, so sex might be less scary for him than opening up emotionally and letting himself get emotionally attached. For HT, it’s easier to show his affection through actions, rather than words, because as mentioned earlier, the boy has trouble with expressing feelings. Lastly, there's a lot of tension between them which at that age could easily transition from fights to sexual stuff. I don't see it as something entirely improbable or out of character for both of them, which is why I'm chill with the whole idea of them sleeping with each other, and then realizing that there's so much more to it than just sex.  

As you’ve put it, their progress is neither fast nor linear, but keeping in mind their past experiences, it is to be expected. It would be weird if they managed to overcome YEARS of being mistreated and deprived in a matter of weeks. Irl it takes people many months of therapy to tackle their issues and leave the past behind before they can function and maintain healthy bonds. Give them time and cut them some slack. 

Anyway, those are my two cents (hopefully at least some of it makes sense) and I’ll call it a day.

[jcmorrigan]

Little Coincidences

The F/O? Giovanni Potage from Epithet Erased. The S/I? Rachel Scribere - mundie, writer of much fanfiction, independent contractor supervillainous minion who has also given up on adulting. (Most of those things apply to me IRL!) This is the one where I’m REALLY banking on no one who went to high school with me following me on Tumblr right now, because I get into some personal-ish stuff here that was very specific to my graduating class. I just...wanted my current f/o to show up a ghost from my past. And what are f/o’s for, if not that?

***

         It started when Giovanni ran past me, pressed a marker into my hand, and yelled, “MARKER FIGHT!”

           Yes, there is context. I wanted to simulate the exact sense of confusion for you that I felt when he did that.

           To be clear, it was during down time in the “evil lair” that our sector of Blasters had taken over – a public library that had been defunded by the city but never torn down, so really, it was a bunch of empty bookshelves (where you could occasionally find an old and really weird book they’d missed on the clear-out) where no one would think to look for us because this entire building was basically a health hazard. We were only about ninety-five percent sure there wasn’t asbestos in the walls.

           Also, if I’ve talked before about the mall incident, or the kiss before the skyline – this was before that. A lot before that. Back when I knew I liked Giovanni in the romantic sense, but he wasn’t exactly aware of that, nor did he really like me in that way. No, this was when I was a pining idiot and we were just friends.

           At which point he shoved a marker into my hand.

           “What the fuck?” I asked.

           “MARKER FIGHT,” he repeated, as though that explained everything.

           The worst part was that it actually did.

           See, I hadn’t wanted to say it at that time, but it frightened me. I’d seen this done before, in one very specific place. How had he known? “Just to be clear,” I said deliberately, “this is that game where each of us wields a marker of a different color, we LARP it out, drawing on someone is a ‘wound,’ and we tally the winner by who has the most of their color on everyone else?”

           “Good. I was worried I’d have to explain the whole thing to you. Now we can skip the tutorial phase and go right to the EVERY-BOY-FOR-HIMSELF RIVALRY!” He let out a raucous and malicious-sounding cackle for about thirty solid seconds before telling me, “You get a ten-second head start.”

           I wasted no time bolting away from him, darting at random zigzags through the shelves to avoid any other Blasters who were playing. Then I heard the triumphant scream of “TIME IS UP, COMPOSER!”

           At which point I almost ran into Ben.

           “Oh, SWEET!” he cried, raising a red marker high. “Maybe this is how I finally get the nickname ‘Stabby’!”

           I screamed as he put a red mark across my forehead. I then retaliated, drawing a line of cobalt-blue down his ear as though lopping it off.

           “MY EAR!” Ben screeched. “SHE VAN-GOGHED ME!”

           I used his cries to dart away around the shelves…right into the same area as Crusher.

           “So,” he growled, raising his lime-green marker. “It’s come to this…ROMANTIC RIVAL.”

           “Don’t try me right now,” I warned, showing him my deep-blue pseudo-dagger. “I’m armed and dangerous.”

           “I think the only way to settle our mutual affections for the Boss is to duel to the death.”

           “So you have chosen death, then.”

           It was rather obvious why Crusher and I didn’t really get along most days. However, for a few minutes, we kind of forgot that we were supposed to hate each other. I managed to leave several long blue lines up Crusher’s arms, screaming “SUBMIT! SUBMIT!”, until suddenly I was pinned down, getting green scribbled down my entire face as Crusher roared, “SURRENDERRRRRR!”

           From a row away, Ben groaning, “Come onnnnn, you know I have dibs on ‘Stabby’! Don’t ruin this for me!”

           Suddenly, Crusher’s eyes widened; “I’VE BEEN HIT!” He rolled over onto his back, making exaggerated, dramatic death noises.

           “COMPOSER!” Spike, the one who’d perpetrated the fatal silver blow, extended a hand to me. “TEMPORARY ALLIANCE!”

           I let her help me up just in time for Flamethrower to skid into the area, striking several cheerleader-precision poses with flair as he brandished his fire-orange marker.

           “AVENGE MEEEEEE!” Crusher yelled.

           Flamethrower’s cheerleading practice was put to good use. Spike and I combined couldn’t stymie him; he danced circles around us, and our skin displayed orange marks of his prowess. Meanwhile, Crusher changed “death” positions five times, making louder groans each time to try and get attention.

           “CRUSHERRRRR!” this from Darkstar, who’d just skidded onto the scene. “NOOOOOO! WHO DID THIS TO YOU?”

           “THEY DID IT!” Flamethrower jabbed his marker at Spike and myself.

           “HE DID IT!” we yelled, pointing back at him.

           “FLAMETHROWER!” Darkstar accused. “HOW COULD YOU?”

           “ME? BUT – “

           “THIS MEANS WAAAAAAR!”

           As Team Composer finally got the upper hand on Flamethrower, Darkstar paused to whisper to me, “I know one of you two got him, but I’ve been waiting for WEEKS to get Flamethrower back for eating my pudding out of the staff lounge.”

           We didn’t argue.

           Behind the shelf, Ben yelled, “Oh, where was this when you found ME stabbed?”

           We all froze when the sound of a running motor alerted us to the impending horror.

           “…Please tell me Boss decided to bring his Vespa into this to spice it up,” I said, voicing what we were all thinking. “Please, please, please tell me it was NOT hijacked by – “

           Our worst fears were confirmed when Car Crash came driving Giovanni’s scooter around the corner at top speed, his marker taped to the handlebars; “BEEP BEEP, FUCKERS!”

           All of our rivalries were gone. We screamed and ran as one herd of panicked cattle, trying to get as far away as possible from Car Crash on a stolen motorized vehicle. At some point, Ben ended up in our crowd. I didn’t bother asking.

           As it turned out, we were all playing right into the hands of the enemy. We hurried to the circular area around the children’s info desk only to find the area quickly filling up with a thick mist. Mist that smelled…suspiciously delicious.

           “NO!” I screeched. “MISSION ABORT! MISSION – “

           It was too late. We were trapped in the Fog of Lost Souls.

           “BOSS, NO!” Crusher dropped to his knees. “SPARE ME! PLEASE! I LOVE YOU!”

           “I LOVE YOU MORE!” Spike screeched. “SPARE ME INSTEAD!”

           I couldn’t even see either of them. Somehow, we’d all gotten horribly separated. The distinct sound of Car Crash running the Vespa into the info desk and groaning, “Aw, man!” resounded.

           The maniacal laughter I’d heard earlier when gifted my weapon sounded again, but louder, and from on high – he was standing on top of one of the bookshelves. “YOU POOR, SIMPLE FOOLS! …WhoIloveverymuchandhateinsultingbutthisisaroleplay. YOU WALKED RIGHT INTO YOUR OWN DOOM! Alliances and loyalty mean nothing in this bloodthirsty war! NONE OF YOU SHALL BE SPARED! TELEPORTS RAPIDLY BEHIND EVERYONE!”

           I’m half convinced he actually did teleport this time, because the screams sounded from everyone right in order of one another; somehow, Giovanni was able to locate each of us within his fog and strike out, drawing glitter-gold wounds on each of us in strategic locations. I could feel the cool ink swipe hard across the back of my neck.

           I did the only thing one could do, which was to drop to my knees and scream in faux anguish. Then slump to the floor as if well and truly decapitated.

           When the fog cleared, it turned out all of us had had the same idea, lying strewn about like a murder scene. Even the Vespa had been drawn on in metallic gold ink in the confusion and was lying toppled.

           Atop the info desk, Giovanni laughed triumphantly, hoisting his marker to the ceiling. “YOU ARE DEALING WITH NO MERE MORTAL! THIS WAR WAS LOST THE MOMENT IT WAS BEGUN!”

           “Would it be foul play to act like we were all just playing dead and then rush him at once?” I muttered.

           To my surprise, it was Crusher of all people who answered back, “No, it wouldn’t.”

           We all knew what we had to do.

           “Hey – “ Giovanni nearly fell back off the desk. “Boys – no – YOU’RE ALL DEAD – “

           I yelled “FAKEOUT!” at the same time that Spike yelled “MUTINY!” and Ben yelled “ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE!”

           We charged, climbing up onto the desk. It was your standard library info desk – at least standard to all the ones I’d seen – meaning it was semicircular in design. Giovanni fell back onto the floor right in the middle of the circlular area. After a brief pause in which he assured us, “I’m fine; please continue,” we vaulted over the desk en masse and drew on every bit of exposed skin to the sounds of his tortured screams.

           It was the most fun I’d had on the Blasters since becoming a Blaster-adjacent independent contractor villain. However, I still couldn’t shake how haunting it was that I had already known the rules of marker war. There was no way – I hadn’t gone to school with any of the Blasters, and my family hadn’t even started out in Sweet Jazz City. And I wasn’t sure at all how to address this.

 ***

           The second incident was also in the library, a few days later. I was heading into the employee lounge (which had originally, when it was a functioning library, been…an employee lounge) with my phone so I could make a highly sensitive business call about appraising a hijacked load of game consoles, followed up by a dentist appointment I’d been putting off.

           One minute, I was strolling into the lounge, strutting like any villain would, phone in hand. And the next, I was sitting on the floor, heart racing with adrenaline, someone’s scream ringing in the air.

           It took me a moment to realize that scream was mine.

           It was followed up by laughter – a slowly building wheeze into an outright chortle. “Composerrrrrr! I knew you’d freak, but not like THAT!”

           I replayed the events in my mind. What had happened in that missing flash was that someone who’d been hiding behind the door frame had leapt at me and jumpscared me while I had been on my way into the lounge.

           Not just any someone. No, one very specific fanged, pink-haired ball of energy.

           “GIOVANNI…POTAGE,” I growled, slowly turning my head to regard him.

           He had tears in his eyes now from laughing so hard. “You should’ve seen your face,” he squeaked. “It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

           Well, I’d always wanted to hear that from him, but not in that context.

           “I…am going…to kill you,” I growled.

           With an “Eek!”, Giovanni realized he needed to run, and he did so.

           I needed a weapon. The fridge was the first thing I saw. Throwing open the door, I saw a pack of pudding cups labeled “DARKSTAR’S (don’t touch, Flamethrower!!!”). And nothing else.

           I did not feel sorry for Darkstar one bit.

           Armed with chocolate pudding, I barreled through the rows of shelves, looking for my wayward boss. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t entirely angry. I wasn’t that angry at all. But when your crush jumpscares you, that is just not something you let go without having some fun.

           I happened upon him behind the first-floor stairway, where I backed him up against the underside of the stairs. “NOT THE FACE!” he screeched as he put up both arms.

           And I lost resolve.

           When a few seconds had passed and Giovanni found himself not pelted with pudding, he asked, “Hey, what gives?” as though legitimately frustrated with me. “You caught me! Now you gotta dish out what I gave to you! Geez, did you forget everything I told you about villainy and revenge?”

           “This isn’t right,” I muttered. “Sorry for wasting your time. I’ll go now.”

           I hadn’t meant it to sound that melodramatic. Anyway, I turned on a heel to return the pudding to its home.

           “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Giovanni seized my wrist as I turned away, and I felt my heart flutter. “Composer, this isn’t like you! Where’s the vicious femme fatale I mentored into villainous perfection?”

           I froze. “Actually doing anything about the jumpscare is more effective at scaring people off than the scare itself, believe it or not.”

           “What the hell? What even is that crap? Just get me back already! Stop being weird!”

           Maybe, just maybe, I’d gotten this all wrong.

           So I started slowly and deliberately unwrapping the lid of the first pudding cup right there in front of him.

           “Now RIGHT IN THE FACE!” Giovanni encouraged.

           I gave him a quizzical look.

           “Come onnn, Composer! I don’t have all day!”

           So I slopped the pudding onto his face halfheartedly.

           “Seriously?” he sighed. “You can do way better than that.”

           “You’re right,” I realized. “I can.”

           So I smacked the second one onto his nose, full stop.

           “Now THAT’S what I call some DELICIOUS VENGEANCE!” Giovanni laughed. “But seriously. I have things to do. Important, evil things.”

           “Okay. I still have to make those calls.”

           “In the lounge?”

           “Yeah.”

           “…Could you do me a favor and get me a soda from the gas station across the street first? I’m thirsty and decaffeinated.”

           I shrugged, rather confused but not about to be rude about it. “Sure. Be right back.”

           “I’ll come pick it up from you in the lounge.”

           It wasn’t until I was repeating my steps that I realized the ruse. “Oh, no fuckin’ way,” I muttered as I approached the lounge.

           I shook the plastic soda up good and hard. Then chucked it into the lounge.

           “HYEEEAH!” Giovanni yelled as he revealed himself to scare an inanimate bottle of soda. “…Wait.”

           “REALLY?” I groaned, rolling my eyes.

           “It was hilarious!” Giovanni argued. “You’re the best person to scare!”

           “I do need to actually get some work done today, you know.”

           “Fiiiiine,” Giovanni sighed. “I’ll leave you alone. Just – “ His eyes widened as he thought of something. “Hey, you don’t mind me hanging out in here while you make your calls, do you?”

           Just me and the object of my affections hanging out alone in a room? What was he playing at?

           “See,” he went on mischievously, “if you’re in here making a call like nothing’s wrong, and another Blaster sees you from the outside of the door…”

           “They’re going to assume there is absolutely no one waiting to scare them behind it,” I realized. “You’re a fucking genius, Boss.”

           “I know.”

           “Deal.”

           As I took my seat, bringing out my phone, Giovanni had retrieved the soda bottle. “I am pretty thirsty, though – “

           “BOSS, DON’T – “

           The minute he opened the cap, it exploded into a geyser that soaked him.

           I couldn’t make my call for a solid fifteen minutes due to laughing too goddamn hard.

 ***

           The camel’s back broke when we were alone together at the strategy table, going over some reconnaissance notes I’d brought back from a surveillance mission.

           “So anyway, I think we have the best chance from one of these three windows,” I explained, cycling through flash cards I’d taped photos to. “We could test for alarms by chucking a good old-fashioned brick through the glass.”

           “Or a bottle of soda that was shaken up,” Giovanni teased.

           I laughed. And also flushed. I hated that he was so goddamn oblivious, sometimes.

           “I mean, it’s practically your specialty!” he argued, leaning back in his chair and setting his ankles on the table, crossing them, one over the other.

           The problem was that it was Casual Friday. Which was not an official Blaster protocol, but rather something that Giovanni himself had developed for this specific faction. He’d thought it would improve morale, and he was right. I myself had resorted to a pair of sweatpants and a band T-shirt that didn’t match. He was wearing a pair of battered jeans and a favorite gray sweater of his, edged in white faux fur. That much I had known.

           I hadn’t seen his shoes yet.

           And right before my eyes, one over the other, he crossed a pair of red Converse high-tops.

           The strategy meeting was abandoned. I slammed my flash cards on the table, rising up and yelling, “WHO TOLD YOU?”

           “OKAY, I ADMIT IT!” he screamed, looking like I’d gotten him with his hands in the cookie jar. “BEN RATTED HIM OUT BECAUSE BEN’S A SNITCH!”

           “HOW. DID BEN. KNOW ABOUT HIM?”

           “BECAUSE HE WAS IN THE LOUNGE THAT DAY AND SAW HIM TAKING IT!”

           I flinched. “We’re not on the same page, are we?”

           “You’re…not asking me about how Ben ratted on Flamethrower for taking Darkstar’s pudding, and I told Darkstar because I thought it would be funny to start shit?”

           I wasn’t really sure where to take that. “…No.”

           “Thennnnnn what are we talking abouuuuut?” His voice rose a little bit on every word to express his utter confusion.

           I sighed heavily. “So you didn’t hear anything about my high school?”

           “No.”

           “Nothing. Not a thing.”

           “Composer, I have no idea where this is going.”

           I sat back down. “This is a complicated story. You don’t wanna – “

           Instantly, Giovanni had repositioned, leaning across the table excitedly. “IS THIS WHERE I GET TO FINALLY HEAR ABOUT THE DARK AND TRAGIC PART OF YOUR BACKSTORY THAT DROVE YOU TO A LIFE OF CRIME?”

           I found myself smiling. “I mean, my parents aren’t dead ghosts. I gotta have some raison d’etre, right?”

           “Tell me. Tellmetellmetellme.”

           I couldn’t look him in the eye. “So…when I was in high school, there was this…guy.”

           “Ooh. This sounds promising.”

           “And I really wanted…”

           Oh, God. I couldn’t tell Giovanni that I was acting this way because of someone I’d had an obsessive crush on. Then he might make the connection that I had a similar one on him. (I had greatly overestimated how canny Giovanni could be about such things. This was back in the day when you could tell him upfront you loved him more than life itself and he wouldn’t get it.)

           “…to be his friend.” And sadly, that was probably the heart of it, more than the romance aspect itself. “He was very loud and weird. But in a good way. Or so I thought, anyway. Not like I was alone, either. Everyone in my school wanted to be near him. EVERYONE. When he changed school districts our last year, there was literally a CROWD of girls around him at his locker begging him to tell them contact info. While I sat several feet away, pretending to read my book, hoping that he’d notice me for NOT being part of the crowd. What a load of bullshit. Then, of course, there are so many guys who claimed to be straight and hung around him just a little too closely…he was that pretty. He was REALLY pretty. And he was smart and he was charismatic and he was fun and…he just…he never wanted to interact with me. He’d throw me just enough of a bone to keep the flame alive, and then act like I wasn’t even real. Probably because I was super dumb and immature back then. Like, way super dumb. I would try to play along with his stunts and he’d blow me off. I finally became disillusioned when he…broke a rule, later on. It doesn’t matter. It was dumb. But I told myself he’d crossed a moral event horizon. I let myself believe it was that one incident for years. …It was never about that. It was about how I wanted to be close to him for years, and he wouldn’t let me in, and he wouldn’t completely shut me out, either. Though maybe that’s my fault for not just…walking up to him and asking him to be my friend. I’ve always been chickenshit.”

           “So…what makes you think I know about him?”

           Giovanni’s tone struck me as strangely sympathetic. I chanced looking into his eyes –

           Oh, God. Wrong move. How had I never noticed they were that brilliantly pink before? I mean, I had known they were pink, but this was like having a rose-colored spotlight turned on me. And were those little gold flecks in the iris? Or was my crush-filter just seeing things?

           But once I stopped seeing the trees, I got a good look at the forest. I couldn’t remember having seen Giovanni so pensive. So concerned, yet in a way that wasn’t over an injury sustained by a teammate or the impending arrival of the police. He was genuinely getting sad off this story.

           “…Because the little quirks I fell for him for are just weirdly similar to the stuff you’ve been doing this week,” I admitted. “He and his posse did marker war all the time. I think his was red? I always wanted to play in the marker war. It looked like they were having so much fun, and I wanted to face off against him. And then the jumpscare. He did that to me, once. Almost exactly the same way you did. That’s where I learned the tactic of throwing an inanimate object through the door. He got me good, and I got mad, and then we never talked about it, if he thought it was funny or what. I thought maybe he thought I was ACTUALLY mad, and that scared him off.”

           “So THAT’S why you didn’t exact your chocolatey revenge.”

           “Bingo. I was just terrible at talking about my feelings, so I just insulted him a lot instead of being honest. It was probably all my fault. And the shoes. He had a pair like that. Exactly like that. I used to try and get his attention by…” I let out a long, deep sigh. “Telling him they looked like they were run over by a ketchup truck.”

           “That’s not a bad one-liner.”

           “‘KETCHUP TRUCK’ ISN’T A BAD ONE-LINER?” I shook my head. “Anyway. I dunno. I can never figure out if he was just an ass or if I was just…” I sighed. “These are just coincidences, aren’t they?”

           “Yeah,” Giovanni confirmed. “They are. I thought I invented marker war. If you ever see this guy again, tell him I gotta sue him for the rights. And I wear these shoes ‘cause they’re devil-may-care and hot-rod red, keeping my aesthetic suitably edgy even when out of uniform. …They’re also comfy.”

           “So I just told you all that for no reason. Like a dumbass. It isn’t even that great of a tragic backstory, is it?” I was laughing then, to try and cover up how absolutely sheepish I felt. “You didn’t need to know any of that, and nowwwww it’s all awkward.”

           “Not awkward. Just…really confusing.”

           “How so?”

           Giovanni gave me a dramatic shrug; “Why didn’t he wanna hang out with you? You’re GREAT at marker war! You fit right in! And you’re honestly the most fun person I’ve ever scared! You think any of the boys freak out that hard? That was hilarious! You’d better watch your back now, because you’ve given me an incentive to try and do it SO much more.”

           I wanted to make some kind of snappy retort about throwing soda bottles. However, it felt like I was receiving a catharsis long overdue. Maybe it didn’t matter who was wrong and who was right, back then. Because now, I had someone who did want to have fun with me.

           Just as a friend, I thought. But maybe that was all that mattered, and the crush could be dealt with later.

           “I was so much worse back then,” I tried to argue. “I was hyper.”

           “So you mean you were even MORE fun?”

           I almost wanted to cry.

           “Whoa, hey, hey, hey!” Seeing the perturbation on my face, Giovanni rushed around the table, lightly putting his hands on my shoulders as he knelt beside my chair. “You’re plenty fun to hang with, Composer! Every day, I’m really glad I helped you get started in the villain biz and invited you into the lair! I mean…back when I was in high school and I tried to do stuff like that for fun, nobody really paid attention to me, either, and I would’ve KILLED for someone to actually think I was cool instead of just…some weirdo who wore capes to school and drew original supervillain characters for all my art projects.”

           “You wore a cape?” I asked. “That is so cool!”

           “Yeah, well, no one said that THEN.”

           “But it was! Now I’m kinda wishing we could’ve gone in the same graduating class.” And also wishing that he would never take those hands off of me, ever.

           “NOYOUDON’T,” he said hurriedly. “Because I was…ummmm…I was a juvenile delinquent, and you were obsessed with rules! Yeah! And I just…wasn’t the person you’d want me to be.”

           I wouldn’t figure out until a later discussion what that meant, truly, and it had nothing to do with breaking or following rules. But that doesn’t have to be tread upon now. “Actually, you’re right. Better things happened the way they did.”

           “So what else did that loser not do with you for fun?”

           “He was the most popular kid in our entire school,” I muttered. “No one thought he was a loser except me.”

           “Yeah, because you actually have a BRAIN in there! And I say he was a LOSER!”

           I smiled at him. “I guess…I dunno, I always heard he was great at dancing. And I always wished we could dance. Probably just because of societal and cultural expectations. But I’m a shit dancer. Like, there was this whole movement dedicated to making fun of – where are you going?”

           Giovanni beckoned for me to follow him; “Come on!”

           “Wasn’t this originally a strategy meeting?”

           “Don’t care! We’re breaking the rules, baby!”

           I followed him back to the staff lounge, where I watched him struggle to push the table off to the side. He got it out of the way before I could offer my help, then flitted to the radio sitting on the counter by the sink. “Let’s see here…”

           I could feel my face filling with heat. “Boss, I don’t think this is a great idea.”

           “Shut up. It’s my idea, so it’s a great one.” He was cycling through the stations. “No, no, no, no, no, no – PERFECT!”

           What he’d found was an anti-authoritarian anthem currently on the rock top 40. Not exactly what you’d think of as a dance number, but it had enough of a beat that I could work with it if pressed.

           Which he would have to do a lot of if he wanted to see me make an idiot out of myself like that.

           “Come on!” he encouraged. “Show me some moves!”

           “I’ll look stupid!” I hissed.

           “SO? You don’t see that stopping me from doing literally anything!”

           “…Did you even hear how that sounded coming out of your mouth? Also, this isn’t a dance song!”

           “Um, it’s a song, so you can dance to it.” He gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “Are you really gonna make me start this?”

           “Oh, no, you don’t n – “

           “Cut in whenever.”

           I wasn’t sure how him starting to dance was supposed to encourage me at all. Because I’ll be honest: he was probably only an average dancer. But I was below average, and looking at him through the crush-filter. He looked like the most graceful living being I’d ever beheld with my two eyes, spinning and rocking in time with the heavy guitar.

           I was not going to look good next to that.

           Of course, this was not any ordinary man I was dealing with. It was Giovanni Potage. Meaning he had a contingency plan. Without any warning whatsoever, he seized my hand and pulled me into a spin with him, and then, well, I was already in motion, so I had to keep going.

           By the third song, it didn’t even feel awkward anymore. I just felt alive. I know I looked like an absolute dork, but I had stopped caring, throwing out arms and leaping about to the hard tempo of every dark anthem. The fourth song was a personal fave of mine – with an incredibly complex guitar riff that just begged a person to go double-time. As I attempted to execute a series of spins to match, I simply lost balance and fell over, hitting the table on my way down.

           Stupid. Idiot. Why was I doing this? I’d just made an ass of myself in front of –

           Without even really pausing, Giovanni dipped before me, offering his hand. I took it on instinct, then rose, letting him reel me right back in, so glad he’d just hit resume where I’d slammed into pause mode.

           At last, I collapsed into the pushed-aside chair, panting heavily. “No more,” I heaved. “I need…to catch…my breath.”

           He hopped up to sit on the tabletop beside me. “Now THAT was some fun,” he remarked. “We gotta do that more often.”

           This was the same pitfall I’d dropped into so many times back in the day, with the ghost of my past. Making up excuses to get near him. Taking casual opportunities to interact with him without making my real intentions clear. Maybe this whole time, I was afraid that would drive him away.

           Maybe this whole time, I’d been thinking of him as a jerkass without actually acknowledging how hard he really blew me off for three fucking years. So what if I wanted to get closer to Giovanni? We were friends. And I liked him. Maybe that would go somewhere. Maybe it wouldn’t. And most importantly, he wanted to dance with me.

           “Yeah,” I agreed. “We should.”

[stimmyvillainarchive]

hey actually I know I’ve been joking around but I’mma. explain a few things cause I’ve been internally avoiding this topic for awhile cause I feel like I’m being an attention seeker if I go into detail about things. But uh friends are starting to notice lately I’ll explain. I’ll put it under the cut for anyone who doesn’t wanna read my icky stuff. Also y’all started sending in fun/chill asks while I was in the middle of writing this so sorry if it seems like it’s come out of left field.

(tw for religion/christianity/religious abuse and LGBT+phobia/transphobia/panphobia)

First I wanna say I’m sorry for my eratic, often non-stim related activity on this blog. I’ve mentioned being depressed but I haven’t really gone into detail. Some of y’all know the situation with my dad leaving and me having to work to pay for the bills. Good news is that shit has been for the most part resolved. my dad’s actually back and we patched up our relationship. I actually talk to him and communicate with him and him and my mom have worked things out. Which is nice cause now we’re all working and we’re all getting along better. So that’s nice.

But uh, during this time I started going to a church my mom and grandma attend. And I was kinda. a big deal there. I don’t wanna get into specifics but basically a lot of people know me now for it. And they made me feel special and good about myself. This part I know I talked about here before but uh. I wanted to be baptized on easter. And the guy who was going to do my baptism basically told me that either I break up with boo and go through what is essentially THEIR version of conversion therapy or he won’t do the baptism. that may not sound like anything to you but that. that shit fucked me up. really bad. I really trusted the people there and I opened up in a way I hadn’t before and now I just feel. like I’m disgusting when I’m openly queer or don’t conform to cis standards. Which was an issue I had worked out and now I’m going through all over again. I can talk about it some days but then others I feel like I gotta. shut up about it. It’s easier to talk about it online but irl it’s been much harder. And unfortunately the people at the church know where I work so on top of working a job I absolutely hate with a manager that DOES NOT like me, I’m constantly paranoid that someone’s going to walk in and recognize me (it’s already happened, but I’m scared to death someone like the person who was going to do my baptism will show up. I can’t tell you how fucking scary it is when the guy who would only speak to you privately and in a secluded area that you need to give up your gay in order to truly be a Christian knows where you work and where you live.) and honestly, I’m just plagued with neverending anxiety at this point. And it’s affected how I just. function. I don’t eat much anymore and I rarely get more than an average of 2-3 hours of sleep. I just realized today that for the past two days I’d eaten nothing but a hot pocket and a slim jim. Most of the time my anxiety makes me so sick to my stomach that eating feels impossible so I just. don’t. As for sleep I don’t really sleep because I’ve had constant and repeated nightmares so every time I hit rem I’m not in for long before I’m jolted awake. Last night was the first I’d actually slept for an appropriate time in months.

I’m dealing with a lot of shit rn, a lot of it is just. self loathing. So I’ve lost enjoyment in doing things that makes me happy cause I just don’t feel I deserve to be happy. Saying it out loud should make me. idk. know how to deal with it but it doesn’t. There’s been more than just the shit with the church and I’ve realized I’m kinda an idiot! and no one wants to deal with me because I’m too depressed and because I don’t act allistic. And before you throw in your “I like you!” asks 1. I’m not looking for sympathy and please don’t take this as a pity party, I’m just trying to explain things and 2. I don’t need people to lie for me or exaggerate things for me. Y’all don’t know what I’m like irl. I don’t follow social situations well, I mess up a lot, I’m too clumsy, I’m too much of a downer, I don’t wanna do anything anymore. It’s fine, I wasn’t cut out for this shit and I wouldn’t wanna deal with me either. No one owes me their time, affection, whatever. I’m not entitled to anyone’s praise. So, it’s cool. I’m just coming to grips with how much I really don’t like myself.

And uh. After that experience with the church I lost my faith. I no longer consider myself a christian and losing my belief in the one thing I felt I could always trust has further ruined me. Every christian community I’ve tried to participate in has rejected me for who I am. And I’ve just come to realize I don’t believe in the same stuff that Christianity teaches. I won’t go into super big details about my beliefs but yeah. These people would consider me a godless heathen at this point. And now I feel irrational anger or want to cry at christianity/topics about it. Which when you live in a Christian household with gospel music constantly playing and reminders about how much this god wants you to die for being a nasty faggot well, that shit is hard to deal with.

So yeah. I know right after this I’m gonna act more chill and more like my “who gives a fuck” self or. whoever the fuck he is. But people have noticed I don’t talk much anymore and that I haven’t been very active here. And I’m sorry about how inactive the blog’s been lately. Idk if this’ll forever be on a hiatus, I’d like to do more here again. But I don’t do anything anymore. The most I’ve done is draw something for elly and that’s about it. Cause now every time I try to make something I enjoy all I can think about is how stupid it is and how stupid I am for wanting to enjoy it and then I end up doing nothing all day or I go to work and then come back and do nothing. so in the meantime I’m sorry if all I do is bitch or make stupid posts, I’m trying to communicate more before I eventually lose the will to try. and I’m sorry if this post makes things awkward because I’m about to answer more positive asks and act okay right after I post this, but I’ve been avoiding being honest about this for awhile and my anxiety got so bad today that the only thing that’s alleviated it has been writing this. So, I’m sorry to the people who I made worry or that it seems I’ve ignored. I’m not trying to ignore anyone, but I honestly can’t muster the energy to just simply interact with people lately. I don’t think I’ll be abandoning this blog but idk if I’m ready to manage it properly like I used to. idk when I’ll BE ready but I’m sorry to those who’ve had to deal with my bullshit and lack of stims lately. 

TL;DR: I’m in a deep depression because the church I attended/was passionate about/was a big deal in rejected me for being queer, I’m in a constant state of anxiety and/or despair, I no longer enjoy doing anything, I hate myself, I work a job I hate, and I’m going to go back to acting like shit’s okay but people were suspecting something was wrong and they’re starting to worry so here’s my explanation.

[dcarhcarts]

regarding recent absences

And other such updates!

If you want the tl;dr, here it is: my mental health isn’t in the greatest place right now, and I figured I ought to explain why I must ask you for continued patience for the snail speed on this blog. I’m not announcing official hiatus, but just know that I...might continue to be pretty scarce, but I’m trying my best to be here and to be writing here. To hopefully get me more active here, I plan on dropping a few threads and cleaning out my dash re: people who follow me but aren’t writing with me. You’re more than welcome to keep following me if I unfollow you, and if you want to write with me and just haven’t gotten the chance and would like me to re-follow you, pls just go ahead and shoot me an im. I will be making a separate post about both those things, it’s just that I can’t deal with how fast my dash is moving at the moment.

If you care for the long version, under the cut so as to not bother everyone else!!! Be warned that it’s uh...it’s l o n g. TW for depression and anxiety and the general things my brain does to me lolol. 

Wow I haven’t used the post title function in a l o n g time. Anyway, hi, it’s me, Ro, your friendly neighborhood mun of a 20+ muse mumu. Don’t let the kind-of-serious format scare you - nothing bad is happening. I just have a few things that I felt the need to address that have been happening either in my life or just in my screwed up brain :D Buckle in and get ready for the ride, I guess?

Starting with something y’all already know about - I’ve not been here a lot recently. I joke about that a lot, but really, if you catch the pattern, my activity here is: exclusively after 10 pm, 2 drafts at most a day, inbox straight up clogged from like a month ago. IMS basically desolate, because I haven’t worked up the courage to pick them back up since I last forgot about them in the endless stream of things I had to do about a month ago! (that being said, uh, if you want to talk to me your best bet is probably through discord. Ro#6782 - pls, mutuals only, and tell me who you are!)  

And - because I h a t e being that mun that reblogs memes and asks for for them and then never answers their askbox / puts out starter calls when she has 10000 drafts / puts out plotting calls when she has unanswered ims, (no problem at all when other people do this but somehow when it’s m e I’m like “no you’re a terrible person”???? hmmm), I’ve also been avoiding t h o s e. If you’re new and you followed me in the last month, I’ve been putting out n o t h i n g that indicates a willingness to interact with new/more people, while the opposite is true. I’m always willing to interact - if I follow back, I want to write with you, only, well, aforementioned issue aside, I also have m o r e problems.

Namely, IRL and the fucked up thing called my brain. 

As most of you know, I got a job ~end of may or early juuuune~ and....well it’s pretty damn time consuming. I can’t have my phone during the course of my job - by the way, 4 hours - and so in those 4 hours (from 4 pm to 8 pm) I can basically get nothing done here. Then there’s also the fact that the time my shift is placed mentally and physically drains me a lot. Because it starts at 4, most of my morning is spent thinking “god I don’t wanna go to work” and because it ends at 8, most of my evening is spent trying very hard not to doze off. It also drains me a lot socially - I work at a call center, and all day I’m basically calling people who don’t want me to call them and are very irate even when they pick up, and uh, that already doesn’t do well for my anxiety haha. 

The other thing, of course - is my sort-of-seasonal depression. Winter tends to equate to anxiety for me, and summer tends to equate to depression. Again, I think I’ve joked about this a lot, but I apparently can only do drafts when I have 3 finals tomorrow and I haven’t studied for any of them. When it’s break, I get into a really weird slump - when i wake up in the morning, I don’t really want to wake up, and sometimes just stare at the wall for like, an hour. Nothing that I enjoyed during the other months, I seem to enjoy doing now. There’s too much time and too little time. It’s like i spent the whole day doing absolutely nothing meaningful but I can’t break myself out of the cycle so I keep doing that, rinse and repeat day after day, and sometimes my definition of spending time is just lying down in bed again and doing nothing for an hour randomly in the middle of the day. I feel guilty for wasting time as much as I am clueless as to how to fill it in a fulfilling way. “But Ro, you could do drafts!” A Concerned Person May Say. “You like writing!” Well, Kind Person, on some of these days, absolutely n o t h i n g Sparks Joy. 

“But Ro, I follow you on your other blog too!” The Concerned Person might continue.“You’re kind of active there, aren’t you?” And the answer, Kind Person who supported my career even if that blog is mostly obscure af fandoms - is yes.  I am kind of active on my other blog, @storyblcd. This brings us to the third and final reason why I’m.....moving at snail’s speed here, and that, my good friend - is anxiety. Well, mixed with a certain amount of mental exhaustion, of course. Note: this is n o t anyone’s fault. People’s interactions with me have not been negative - and they are not responsible for how my brain chooses to reaact to it. 

I’ve not lost muse for the muses on this blog, per se - but I’m getting burned out really fast writing them, for multiple reasons. First, muse imbalance. Now I know, I definitely k n o w - that sometimes people like one muse more than another, or have more interest in writing with one or the other, and I get that. I’ve said multiple multiple times that that is p e r f e c t l y fine. But honestly the reason I’ve lasted so long on a multimuse is because I can pick which muse I have muse for when, and I can respond accordingly / ask for interactions accordingly. But when I get so many people coming at me at once for the o n e muse when I have t w e n t y it sometimes gets a little? Discouraging? It makes me question whether or not only that one muse is popular for a reason. It also exhausts me re: the portrayal of that muse, because I”m putting out so many replies for that muse in a lot of sort of similar plots/scenarios that I just get burnt right out. And then I get scared that if I keep going I’ll want to drop the muse, so I’m staying away from those threads a little bit.

Second, I’m at a point in my portrayal of certain muses where I feel like there’s a certain expectation for how it’s going to be. My personal feelings aside, I think every mun expects their own portrayal to be different and unique and exciting - and it’s not different for me, only now I feel like the expectation and the pressure of coming up with something good and meaningful outweighs the feeling of exploration as I’m “discovering” the muse. Like most writers - I still crave validation, though more and more lately, I’m at a place in my writing where I f e e l like me from 2 months ago could have probably done a better job. While it’s not necessarily true, and these pressures are coming from m e and not any outside source, I f e e l like I have to consistently Make Good Writing, and simultaneously feel like some days I sit down and I try to do drafts and all I write is garbage. It just - doesn’t feel the same? So - more and more, I’m staring at the empty drafts page and then closing it - because if I don’t w r i t e I don’t have to admit I peaked two months ago.  

Both of these reasons have made me rather a bit avoidant of my muses here / this blog. Now, I’ve been struggling with anxiety for long enough that I know that a lot of this is - well, p r o b a b l y just my brain lying to me. See even as I’m writing this post now, my anxiety is saying “haha guess what n o one cares you’ve been gone” and my rational Anxiety-is-a-stupid-asshole voice is saying “nahhhhhh your brain is probably just lying to you.” But! In the battle, anxiety is kind of pummeling me now. I will r i s e again and win the war, most likely - but for now it’s anxiety: 1 and ro: 0.

AND finally - if you made it all the way down here, you’re a c h a m p. The solution! Well, as much of a solution as I’m hoping to get anyway - we’ll have to see if it implements well. I’m going to unfollow a few blogs so I can get my dash cleaner/more organized/less fast-moving and b r e a t h e. I’m going to drop a couple of threads, I might make a couple more muses request only/exclusive only for the like 2 people that have threads with them, I might drop a couple muses (though I don’t think this will really happen, Idk tho). There will be separate posts on those things coming soon, this is just to notify y’all. Thank you for all of your patience, thank you for all the wonderful people who’ve allowed me to write with you, I love all of you!!!!

[sincerely-chaos]

in the light of dissipating greyness

I’ve been more than a bit AFK for quite some time now. It’s been too much work (due to several factors) but mostly my absence has been due to it having been a bit grey inside my head. All in all, there hasn’t been enough executive functioning going on, and there has also been an additional lack of energy and motivation, beyond the deficits in those things due to decreased executive functioning, perhaps.

It’s been... months, really, this greyness. I didn’t really notice it at first, because my moods are changeable at the best of times. And it started with a lot of crying, which in and of itself isn’t really a sign of minor brainfail for me, but could be a healthy reaction to things, or just one of those periods of increased mental frailty, and so I didn’t think too much of it. Then came the tiredness, which wasn’t that strange, considering how much I worked. Then came the increasing sense of meaninglessness and hopelessness, of being stuck and being overwhelmed by things constantly. It was only once those thoughts and emotions became the new “baseline” of my moods (I could still have good times and I could still enjoy things, but whenever those things passed, I would return to this new baseline of feeling... grey) that I really became aware that perhaps, this was one of those temporary minor brainfails (in contrast to the more constant brainfails that are just how I work - or doesn’t work - normally) that I still have from time to time, but they’ve become more rare over the years, and they are also more fleeting, and so I don’t often consider that they might be ongoing. In this case, I guess it was.

It’s funny how you adapt to things, especially if they happen gradually, until it takes weeks or even months before you even notice. Perhaps it’s one of the quirks of having a very changeable mood - if it’s not constant, it’s so hard to tell if it’s more frequent than it usually is. And so it took perhaps two months before I came to the conclusion that things had, in general, gotten more grey. In contrast, the lovely things looked even more vivid and touched me even more, but the undertone of greyness still made things a bit harder day to day. Once realising the pattern, it somehow got a bit easier, because I now know what to do when the greyness comes. One of the perks of my job, perhaps; if you hear yourself repeat the same things over and over to patients, it’s very hard for it not to stick in your own thoughts as well, and when I hear patients talk about what helps them, I get new ideas too. Besides, fandom has helped a lot too. Most noteably the story Seeds, by thesardine, which made me start growing things as a kind of behavioural activation.

The thing that’s different these days compared to when I used to be hit by greyness in different nuances is that I keep muddling through. I don’t mean that I just soldier on and pretend things are fine. I do cry in the bathroom at work when I need to, I do allow myself more alone time and I’m kinder to myself, as well as refusing to ignore or hide from whatever emotions and thoughts might pass through my head. I allow myself to feel that heavy greyness, the sorrow, the dullness. The difference is that I keep doing the things that are important to me, at least to some degree, and sometimes in a different form than usual.

I haven’t been home from work due to feeling like I don’t want to do another thing. I have, however, allowed myself to work a bit slower at times, to take more breaks (to take breaks at all...), to do things that I enjoy more rather than the things I “ought” to do first and so on. I haven’t spend as much time with friends - IRL or online - as I would have liked to when considering how important some people are to me, but I have kept some kind of at least semi regular contact, and I have refused to change plans that I had already made, even if the thought of going through with it feels borderline impossible. I have allowed myself to think, but I haven’t directly “bought” all of the thoughts I get when things turn a bit grey, but instead I’ve just allowed myself to feel that right now, that’s how it feels. I haven’t been able to read much, sadly, but I’ve listened a lot to podfic and audiobooks. And I’ve done so much practical work around the house, garden and so on, because if I’m to feel empty and hopeless, I might as well do something while feeling it. I’ve spent hours most evenings out, even in the rain, looking for rocks that I need for the garden, planting, growing, digging... and while the insomnia has been rather bad, at least I’ve been physically tired, and I have even gotten caught up and interested in what I’m doing.

I have no idea why I’m writing, this, to be honest, but it feels pretty good to do so, so I’ll indulge myself a bit more, because I do, in fact, believe in narrative being important in terms of defining situations, but also in creating your own approach to them. Your own narrative of it.

Either way, a few days ago, the greyness began to slowly dissipate. It’s by no means gone, but it has lifted significantly. It took a while to notice that too, but I think it was yesterday that I realised that the days have gotten a bit easier, the greyness a bit less compact and the energy (and sleep - finally!!) began to return. It’s a slow shift, and it might just be temporary, but somehow I doubt it. The distinct heaviness I feel in the mornings are one of the more constant signs of greyness, and it’s much lighter now. And even if it’s just temporary and the greyness sticks around for a bit longer, I can manage that too. That realisation has been one of the most hopeful ones I’ve made as of lately - I can manage even with a certain degree of greyness, even over time. It might be painful, feel meaningless and decrease enjoyment, as well as impair a lot of functions, but it’s somewhat workable still. I can still, to certain degrees, do the things that matters to me and keep going in my valued direction, albeit a bit slower.

And so I’m hopefully slowly returning here as well. It might take some time, and writing fic is currently not even an option, sadly, as my working memory makes even reading hard, and remembering plots and what I wrote in the last chapter seems like it might make my head explode. But I’ll work up to that.

One thing that I want to point out, about all of this, though, is that what I have written about greyness isn’t to be taken as my general take on depression. This isn’t about depression - if it was, I would have called it by its name. At least it isn’t about what we call a major depressive episode. Perhaps atypical depression, which has been a constant irregularity during my entire life, but it isn’t about major depression. Why do I feel the need to point this out? Well; because it would be to make light of a very disabling illness. And also; what I have experienced felt more like a somewhat melodramatic, but still rather adaptive and to some degree functional or even rational reaction to several things in my life, at least when taking into account how my brain works and my vulnerability for these states. It doesn’t feel pathological the way we usually mean when talking about major depression. It feels more like a reaction, like the swing of a penduluum. And so this isn’t about depression, but it is about the greyness that, for some of us, might be something that will occasionally discolour our perceptions and thougths for periods of time.

The best thing about it, though, is to rediscover how easy some things might feel once the greyness is beginning to dissipate. It’s almost... thrilling, but in a silent, private kind of way...

[dannissa13]

Well...

Hiya there. I’m not dead... yet. And a lot has happened in the last half-a-year, so I won’t go in the great detail about it, but still gonna write a few things.

I was completely inactive on my social media for a good long time because I always feel like I have nothing to say, my life is boring and even if I say something, nobody cares about my opinion. So I’m just silent most of the time. That’s not good at all, because it’s the same thing IRL a lot of the times: I don’t say what I wanna say because I think my opinion is irrelevant and no one gives a shit. Bu how can I get what I want if I don’t talk about it? That’s right, I don’t get anything, so not only am I depressed and lonely I’m also losing grip on everything good I could’ve had.

Onto the next thing: today is the first day of NaNoWriMo. It’s my third NaNo and I’m gonna do it this year too. Not because I have a ton of free time and I’m good with stress, no. My situation is the exact opposite and I have a sneaking feeling that I’m gonna be fucked by this quite badly. The thing is that I’ve changed jobs. Radically. Now I’m working somewhere I always wanted to but it turned out to be completely not like I’ve imagined. And this was kinda my dream job, and now it sucks. It’s incredibly and extremely stressful, I have four, I repeat, 4, bosses and only two of them treat me okay. I’ve been scolded several times, I’ve been put down, humiliated and insulted and it’s not gonna end if I make it. That’s the thing - I’m still not a part of the company, technically if they want me to leave they can just shoo me at any given moment. Yay, a dream job. But it’s still much better than the previous one. For me, anxiety is better than the apathy. Right now I’m really, really, incredibly stressed and under a lot of pressure but I’m expressive creatively and it’s a lot of fun in the making. Also I get to see the fruit of my labor with my own eyes, in real time in real life. I can look at it and proudly say: “Look, you guys, look at this small thing! I’ve made it. I did this. And it works.” It feels great, really, even though other aspects of my work life suck. I’m happy to see the results, to contribute to something. And with the previous place it was entirely different. I’ve hated it. Just couldn’t be bothered doing anything there. I was bored and anxious at the same time, I understood virtually nothing I was supposed to be doing and I felt like a fraud. Also I was an only woman in the group and the only one person who did something different from everyone. That was entirely unpleasant. When my old boss made me work for two of his business partners and also gave me twice as much tasks and removed only thing that made it bearable - the ability to work from home - I’ve just quit. I’ve had it with the bullshit and I’ve had it with myself not being able to properly function without having a mental breakdown so I’ve left that place and never wanted to go back.

Speaking of mental breakdowns. I’ve had a few big anxiety attacks at the beginning of the year, at my old job, when I’ve had three bosses. My mental state was awful so I did a logical thing and went to therapy. It was January when I’ve made it to the first session, now it’s November. This is my second time in therapy and I don’t think it’s working. Maybe my therapist is wrong for me, maybe I need something else, but just talking doesn’t do anything and this person can’t prescribe me any drugs or recommend someone who could. I don’t know if I’ll continue to go there, but things we discuss aren’t less valid just because I can’t use them. Maybe for somebody with less imbalanced brain it’ll work just fine, but I’ve never knew what balanced brain feels like, I’ve only had mine. And in my paranoid, anxious, depressed head I know there’s no place for working solutions. It feels like I’m treated for a broken limb, but backwards, like they’ve trying to teach me how to walk but my bones are sticking out and my wounds are bleeding. I don’t think I can start healing before I’m able to deal with that. I do need drugs of the medical kind. I just want to try to be like actual people are - not going from 0 to 100 in a fraction of a second. I just want to be calm. And don’t spiral in an abiss any time something even remotely inconvenient happens. That’s it.

In other news, this year someone really close to me and very dear to my heart died. A close family member. It was an extremely surreal experience and I don’t think I’ve processed the fact of that death completely. It still feels like it didn’t happen. Like, I know that person is dead, but I don’t register it. I don’t really feel anything about that either. Once there was a person and now they are dead. That’s it, end of story. That might be some kind of shock or some weird reaction of my brain trying to protect itself from strong emotional pain but I know I haven’t dealt with that and I probably never will.

Also, I now have two cats. After the death in my family we’ve got a kitten. A cute little thing that turned out to be one huge problem. He’s hyperactive, really cute and very annoying. Our older cat’s reaction wasn’t the chillest, unfortunately. It was volatile. They’ve hated each other for a good month before even being in one room without hissing. Now they’re hugging and cuddling after fighting each other. They are my stupid, dumbass children and I’m the exhausted mother, trying her best not to go nuts on them.

In conclusion, I’ve been through the Hell and back and it’s not even the end of the year yet. But I obviously don’t love myself because now, on top of all of the stress I’m having, I’m also gonna put those completely unrealistic expectations I always do and then will beat myself up over because meeting them is unreal. Maybe, just maybe I’ll try to stay in this realm this time around, but that’s highly unlikely. So good fucking luck to me, but 50k words aint gonna happen. Like, no way. I’ll opt for something more realistic this time.

Till the next time! See y’all there!

[nabesima]

Ranting time

Wow, okay, I suppose it’s not just me then, haha

The main reason I’m so frustrated and upset is because I really do care about FR. I love, love dragons, they’re my main aesthetic since I was 8; there was a time when FR helped me to improve my English skills, and when it inspired me to do art and jokes, and develop my characters. I met amazing people I would never know otherwise. But now all of that kind of... faded, I suppose.

Lots of random frustrated rambling below

While the community is growing in numbers, it really fell in activity. There are no lore/roleplay events, no major tag events (remember when Wish Rising was a huge thing everybody participated in?), and most “big” players left or went mostly silent. Gods, I miss Villain.

There’s nothing new to do. I don’t even use Stressing Room because its search function kinda sucks, and I usually dress my dragons by scrolling through the apparel list, and I don’t need the Room for that. I just use it to get transparent images of apparel 99% of the time <:T And apart from the Room... there’s just the Coli, I guess. Most of the site revolves around Coliseum, which is just a repeated clicking RNG hell. Which kinda got old after four goddamn years of festivals, which stay pretty much the same - oh, well, except now they’re mostly useless since the items don’t retire and the currency is dirt cheap.

Lore. Where. In the flying fondue. Did the lore go. It started so good, and then it flopped down, wiggled its legs in the air a bit, and passed away. The Bogsneaks gave me hope that the winds are changing and that we’ll be getting more lore and short stories, but alas, that was just the one-time thing with silence afterwards. Even the Q&A, that gave us some tiny bits of lore from time to time, slowed down and now pretty much stopped. And don’t even let me start talking about how much could they do with lore. 

I really miss the times when deities were active, when they messed around on forums, either making people laugh or maybe inspiring their dom efforts. Some flights really could use some encouragement, that’s for sure. And good lord, why is Windsinger still at the Wyrmwound?? I’m not in Wind and I’m pissed off about that. WHERE IS HE, HE PROMISED TO MAKE A PROPER MAP OF SORNIETH. IT’S BEEN YEARS.

And then, there’s customer support and communication. Oh boy. I don’t think I can say anything new on that topic, there are smarter people who are much better at customer communication than me. You know the drill. There’s just silence. Why couldn’t they say something like “don’t worry guys, the gene is still coming in September” when people started to get worried? Why haven’t we heard anything about the promised IriShim fix? Why did all admins’ blogs suddenly go inactive about a year ago? Etc, etc. When it comes to customer support, I’m afraid of them. I don’t think there was a single case of un-ban, right? Well, I’m this one person who absolutely hates breaking rules, yet I am afraid of getting banned for something stupid, like my NotN Coliseum-grinding raids, when I’m battling non-stop for hours at a time while watching LotR. I shouldn’t be concerned that I may lose my account, yet I am. And it’s not just because I’m a stress mess, but because some bans are kinda ridiculous. I knew two sisters who were banned for “multiaccounting”, and haven’t been unbanned, or even replied to, when they sent admins their scanned IDs.

Then there are my personal issues, of course. I pretty much isolated myself from other players lately because of one nasty... situation that occurred between me and a person I considered my friend. It’s been months and I’m still not over this, because that was a real kick in my weak spot that fed my social fears a lot. So I kinda stopped talking to people, even to my closest friends, because I feel like I’m bothering everyone I meet online or irl. But since the community is a huge part of FR experience, that whole mess sucked a large part of my interest in FR.

So yeah

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[theantiproduct]

just went through my old blog that i started when i was about 14 lol. 

i deleted a lot of posts back in the days but most posts from about age 16 to 18 are still there…

i talked a lot about an emptiness i felt and how i feel like i’m wasting my life

i scares me how little has changed. i know i haven’t had treatment until i was like 25 and by that time i was even more depressed and miserable but ugh.

had one post talking about how i can’t focus on things as much as i used too, but i honestly wonder if i ever could. 

life is weird and you wake up one day and you’re 27 and everything is still has shitty has it was ten years ago. 

meh.

if i’m making an actual post might as well add some recent stuff, there isn’t much so it’ll be short.

life is shit. 

i’m overwhelmed by everything i need to do, and i have A LOT that i need to do. meaning i do nothing cause i’m a healthy functioning adult. 

i’m in debt, which would be fine if i could get a job which could happen if i’ll try to overcome my anxiety and try again and maybe even get accepted to something cause everytime i try i get rejected and that’s just shit. yeah, i also need to get a refill on my prescriptions and find a new therapist. meaning so much more anxiety. 

I feel so shitty about where i’m at atm but i feel so stuck and kinda like i’m hiding in the corner till everything will end. 

something else that repeated a lot on my teen blog was saying “ i want to work my shit out” and then not doing anything. honestly nothing is gonna change if i’m not gonna work but i think i’m a little bit too tired rn. 

Another thing I wanted to point out to myself is the amount of posts about my bf at the time. Since I started dating him every post was about him and how much I love him, how happy I am cause I have him. If there's one thing I really hope I learnt this time is that I need to stop making others my everything. He was amazing but wasn't I too? Why did I abandon myself at 16? I really hope I won't make this same mistake again in the future…

edit a couple of days later cause i don’t wanna make another post atm

tried okcupid again and it sucked, saw a guy from there at the vet today. i kind of wish people would hit on me irl 5% as they do online....i hate dating apps. deleted again.

my dog is sick and sad. i’m tired and sad. we went to the vet, who said we should come back tomorrow if he’s not better by then. fine.

after the vet i tried to take some cash out of the atm but oh i forgot i have no money? it usually lets me take out like a bit at a time idk man i wanted to buy some vegetables. fucking want to die..

called my parents and asked them for help with my money situation and they’re gonna try to help as much as they can...

called the stupid insurance shit where i apparently have a huge debt. they said they’ll call me back later this week. 

called the psychiatrist and he’s on holiday until the end of the month. 

sent a couple of cv’s to some companies who’ll probably never call me

I FUCKING HATE EVERYTHING NOTHING IS WORKING OUT EVER AND I FEEL SO EMPTY AND TIRED AND UGUGHGHGHFGJKSDFHFKSDFKSHFJKS;FKDSLJF

FUCK.

[im-a-femalerebel]

I wanted to talk about my ex girlfriend

l had a friend from Twitter for a while. When I was single (that means five months after I started to see her), I realized I had a lil’ crush on her. And, I knew it was not possible. She was polyamourous, I was monogamous, willing for a passionate relationship and a really close partner, at the opposite of her projets. But one night I told her. And we slept together, and kissed, and shared sweet words. And then she told me I could be like her, living different love stories at the same time. I read articles, watched videos about the subject, to understand how it works, that it really existed. I tried, for real. But then I cried, for a long time. It became even more difficult because a friend who was also a sexfriend was one of her lovers. There were jealousy, tensions, a lack of communication in all of this. We spent the week end all together, a few days after I began to date her, so It was really harsh. I think I have never been this anxious in my entire life. 

My girlfriend had a strange way to treat my depression. She told me she gave a name to my brain, so that she can insult my depression when I talk. It was like “shut up brain”. And it felt like “shut up you” and it was really toxic. She also told me my depression explained the fact I’m monogamous, meaning polyamory was for everyone. I felt really bad, it felt like I had to change something I could not control, and in a really violent way. I needed to be reassured.

Also, there were no rules. I knew all the private life of her lovers as she had no limit. I did not want to know so many things, first because when I was with her, I would like it to be our moment and also, because it was really intrusive and sometimes I even had the felling her lovers were my friends without even knowing them. Otherwise, she also had this thing to stay all day on her phone talking to her lovers, leaving me alone. When I explained this to her, she told me it was her way to function, no negociation possible.

There was also the fact the told me anything she did in bed with X or Y or whoever, that I did not want to know. And surprising, it was always heterosexual sex. She never spoke with me about lesbian sex (which was suppose to be our purpose as a lesbian couple, lol). She told me her libido was skyrocketting, and the also loved to feed this image online, whereas she did not tried anything with me. So, one day, I finally asked her “Is there a problem?”. And she got angry, and said I should not blame her on her libido, that is was oppressive, which was not at all my intentions.

She also changed plans whenever she liked. We were suppose to go at the Pride together, like our first lesbian couple activity, but I learned on Twitter she did something else with a friend who mentionned her in a tweet. Then I told her about this, and she replied “Oh sorry I wanted to tell you but I knew you would be angry”, which actually got me even more angry. Another time, one week after, she promised me to go to a birthday party of a friend, so that she could meet two of my friends. She was supposed to go with me and then stay at my home for two days. On the D day, she first avoided my question when I asked her if she was coming saying “she was tired” without answering. Then told me a few hours later “I’m leaving”. And I said “at your home?”. She said “Yes”. I said “I’ll miss you”. She did not reply until the evening, when she wrote me a long message telling me she was tired and it had nothing to do with me. It was not the fact that it was tired that got me upset this day, it was the fact she was telling it really late, as she could change my plans anytime she wanted. 

Then I posted a tweet the day after “I used to don’t understand people who don’t believe in love, now I’m starting to understand”. And she got angry and sent me a message “Glad to hear it’s over via Twitter”. Then I begin to tell her she was not there for me. She told me I was wrong, that it was the opposite. And then she broke up, repeating I was “out of the realities”. It took it as a nice reference to my depression. But, for real, I was lucid about this relationship, do not call me an idiot. 

Just after she left me, she posted on her public account on Twitter “Beware, people who do not question themselves, it smells”. It knew it was about me, obviously, and that people will ask about this, and know all of this, and I’d be alone again. Then I started to have an obsession about Twitter. I was checking everyday if our friends in common unfollowed me, or even blocked me. And unfortunately, it was happenning. I felt so bad. 

I had and still have a private account on Twitter, where I was only 30 close people so I could share my thoughts. After the break up, I felt really bad and posted some things about my feelings. I felt broke, not lovable, transparent, empty. 

But then, a friend in common who followed this account started to tell my ex about what I was posting, even exaggerating my words. I learned about this because I heard people were coming to talk to my ex to ask her what happenned. 

One day, she posted a really passive agressive tweet, which sounded like a critic of a tweet I posted fifteen minutes ago, so it was really strange. I panicked and posted “omg she is gonna put everyone against me”. Five seconds after, she called me on the phone. I did not respond, then I did five minutes later. She was crying. She was saying she did mistakes in our relationship, and I was, with my tweets, trying to put everybody against her (but wtf it was a private account with 30 people, they tweeted about me to 1500 people). Then we talked together again, it was quite peaceful. 

And one day, she blocked me from Facebook, the friend who told her about my tweets did, my ex’s lover did too. No explanation. 

I became close to her ex girlfriend, which was already a friend before all of this happenned. We shared our experience about her and found some common points in the relationships we had with her : a lack of communication, organization and a lot of information about the other lovers. I felt less alone. However, when my ex learned about my friendship with her ex, she got mad and told her I was a bad person, that I judge people on polyamory, I was toxic... My friend did not believe her and we are still really close friends now. 

But during all summer I thought about this story, and talked about it with my psychiatrist who told me she manipulated me, and I believe her. 

Then in September, I was talking with a friend on Twitter I have not met IRL yet, but we are close. She told me that after the break up my ex sent her a message to tell her I was toxic. I was really mad as it related to the fear of abandoning I went through all summer. I tweeted “I just learned my ex girlfriend told people we did not even met I was toxic, Idk when I have to call her out as a manipulative person”. 

A few days after, I connected to Twitter and lost fifty followers, then sixty, then one, and one, and one. I first did not understand anything at all. I saw a post in my timeline saying “we can not trust people about their virtual image, be careful”. And I pictured everything in thirty seconds.

I went on my second account, tapped my name, and saw “dangerous”, “toxic”, “ unfollow her”, “I didn’t know she was toxic, thanks”. I was having  phonecall with a friend while discovering all this, so I could not try to harm myself or whatever. There was a thread of tweets published on my ex’s lover account about my “toxic behaviour”. It was told I opressed my ex because I was monogamous and did not try to adapt. It was told I manipulated her because I reproached her to do not have sex for me, which was not true. His lover also put some arguments such as the fact I had suicidal thoughts and I was dangerous and the fact I sent him unwanted nudes, which is also false because we shared some at the same time. The other nudes I sent were to my ex when we were together, as we sexted sometimes. But she never told me she was uncomfortable and always pretended to like it, so I do not understand. 

Well, here you can see my long story. Maybe the worst I lived. Maybe the one I’m still going through now, discovering each day who blocked you like and Advent calendar. 

My mental health does not permitt me to explain about this in public on Twitter, as I am already really, really hurt. 

As I met my ex in the feminist sphere of Twitter, I do not go anymore to the IRL events nearby, I am too afraid to see her, or her friends, and hear them saying I am dangerous in public. 

here is the story of a bisexual girl who had her first lesbian relationship. It lasted one month, no more, but hurted me forever.