#i had a panic attack from liking someone's post instead of instant reblogging

[cola-losers]

But yes next time, don't send me some post just tell me your issue, present your case. And I can decide on my own

But kinda scary and stalkerish to know what post to send after seeing me reblog one (1) art from the person in question. Art that one its own was unassuming and wasn't what was being called out

As someone who's dealt with legitimate stalking before, that doesn't sit well with me

[grapementos]

redamancy

(v.) the act of loving someone in return.

a/n: the final part of the cheating triology.

kirishima and midoriya’s part.

bakugo x gn reader

warnings: cheating, panic attack (kinda), suggestive, crying

pro-hero dynamight didn't have the best rep with the press, if his exhausted pr team was anything to go by. seldom were there headlines about him without outburst or, the media's favorite little play on words, explosive following suit.

then, suddenly, his brash behavior had stopped. it was so abrupt that no one even noticed at first.

once they did, the questions came flooding in. many of them were speculations of anger management classes or something of that nature. in the end, they were all denied until the big question came:

'are you in a relationship?'

it was confirmed, and the crowd went wild. within days there were tabloids of 'pro-hero dynamight's secret lover: who could it be?'

it was innocent at first; just plain curiosity about a public figure.

but then it got deeper. talk shows got psychologists to give professional insight as to how a relationship with someone like dynamight would be.

as expected, it wasn't positive. and soon enough, everyone on the internet was bashing dynamight for being dangerous or violent, specifically towards his lover, whom they knew nothing about.

you'd rub the tension out of his shoulders at the end of the day, reminding him that he was good, no matter what the media had to say. they didn't know him like you did.

your comfort and reassurance usually calmed him down and left him grumbling, "i didn't even care anyways."

so he took the criticism. and he took the bashing, the false speculation—and he kept moving forward.

that is, until someone thought it'd be fun to make a 'top ten pro-heroes who'd cheat' blog post that went absolutely viral. it reached every corner of the internet, even getting mentioned in the news as outraged heroes demanded the website be removed.

the number one spot, the one bakugo had yearned for, was his.

but not in the way he wanted.

being ranked most likely to cheat did a number on his behavior, both in public and private. he was more distant and less explosive, which somehow spurred the press on more.

they concluded that he cleaned up his act because the blog was right and he wanted to create a better image for himself. that wasn't true at all—he was just tired.

so tired, in fact, that he proved the rumors right.

denki was draped over your couch, watching some game show on tv when you found out. the two of you had planned to hang out for a bit and watch a movie at the cinema, but nothing good was showing, so you ultimately decided to head back to your place.

your shared place. with bakugo.

you assumed it was one of his late nights since he wasn't home, so you started cooking dinner, making small talk with denki.

"so you can go swimming, then?" you quirked a brow, poking your head into the living room.

"yeah, just as long as i don't activate my quirk, you know?" denki opened his mouth to explain further, but the front door messily slammed open, beating him to it.

and there he was. bakugo katsuki.

with someone else in his arms, his face nearly being eaten as they pushed back and forth against each other.

everything stopped the moment he made eye contact with you. the kissing stopped, your brain stopped—it even felt like the tv was muted.

even worse was that his eyes held no remorse. just a little surprise, like finding your old charger after buying a new one.

"thought you were hanging out with dunce face," his voice was gruff, low and sultry as his gazed burned into you with... impatience?

"katsuki, what're you.." you mumbled out, brain still trying to process the sight before you, "why're you.."

"didn't think you'd be back already." he shrugged, gaze shifting back to the person he was with. and only then did his brows relax, lips tugging up into a smile. "now, if you'll excuse us.."

he tried to walk past you, but you shoved his chest, "what the hell are you doing?" you nearly screamed, eyes red and burning with tears.

"haven't you heard the rumors, y/n? i'm a cheater. you don't need to be with someone like me."

you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, but even that couldn't overpower the utter devastation pooling all the way from your chest to your toes. oh, it hurt.

"kami," you whispered desperately once they were gone—in the room that you used to sleep in—head starting to swim, "kami, help me, please."

you didn't even know what you wanted him to help you with. you just wanted everything to stop.

he rushed to your side, finally snapping out of his shocked daze. his arms were around you in an instant, chin on top of your head, "you're okay, y/n, i'm here. it's okay."

you were shaking and sobbing into his shirt, grip tight on his unzipped jacket.

"it hurts. oh god, it hurts. kami, make it stop, please." you shuddered, and everything was suddenly too loud.

he held you tightly, letting you cry for what felt like hours.

and then he got you out of there.

BONUS:

the healing process was long and still incomplete. some days you still felt so empty, only able to complete the bare necessities to get through your day, but denki was by your side when he could be.

you'd since moved out of your shared home with bakugo and into a place of your own, which was a difficult adjustment. but with denki calling you twice a day—literally—you didn't have a chance to be lonely.

most nights he spent at your house, claiming it was because he loved your cooking.

you weren't dumb; denki flirted with you all the time. he was truly unashamed every time he greeted you with a 'hey, hottie', and bid you goodbye with a 'love you, sweetcheeks'.

it made you cringe, but it was denki, so you had to love him.

after a year of being closer than ever, he’d asked you on a date numerous times, receiving a playful 'no, you know i'm not ready for that.'

but, one time was special. one time was heartfelt and so genuine that you shed real tears. denki laid his heart bare for you, every ounce of emotions spilling out of him and onto your shirt.

"i know you're not ready, y/n, but i love you so much. i'll wait for you, i swear it!"

and after all those no's, you finally said yes.

i like to think that bakugo did it for you. obviously this wasn’t the right way to go about it, but he just.. kind of got so tired of being accused of something terrible. he became the monster they swore he was. and you got caught in the crossfire. also i bolded dynamight instead of bakugo because i feel like this focuses on that part of his persona. his hero-self got too wrapped up in the media. also! kirishima was originally gonna be the new lover, but i feel like it’d be too similar to the other bakugo one i wrote.

reblogs are appreciated.

[novantinuum]

Tides of Renewal (SU one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (Mild TW for vague allusions to past suicidal thoughts.)

Words: 2500~

Summary: Now twenty years old and living on the other side of the country, Steven spends his morning relaxing on the beach, musing about his past, and having a chat with his dad.

Hi folks! This is actually my two-months-late “Happy Birthday, Steven” fic, ahah- amusingly, posted two months late to the day. I’m quite happy with how this short turned out.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

Tides of Renewal

Steven rises alongside the sun, but not by choice.

As he abruptly stirs, jerking onto his side under his tangled blanket, he soon realizes that he has little lingering memory of the nightmare that shook him from his slumber. Nevertheless, his heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s hanging in his throat. There’s feelings, faint impressions— someone’s blood (his, or hers?), Connie’s screams, a bubble of terror boiling from within— but that’s all he’s left with. The young man clutches at his sheets, struggling to catch his breath as is the norm most mornings. Dim light sneaks in between the edges of the curtains, offering a rough estimate of the time.

Once it’s clear his chances of sleeping in have become null and void, he entices himself out of bed with the promise of buying himself a muffin at the local coffee shop later today, a birthday treat. His routine is sluggish, but precise. He uses the bathroom, throws on his swim trunks and a thin cotton shirt, downs the pills he forgot to take last night with a quick swig of water, carefully runs his fingers through his long curls to work out the tangles, and slips his feet into the flip flops he always leaves lying right at the foot of his bed.

The young adult only takes his guitar, phone, and keys with him as he walks the mile distance from his humble studio apartment to the public beach. Around him, the world is at peace. The only sound intermingling with the gentle ebb and flow of the Pacific at this hour of the morning is the chattering of puffins that nest on the large rock outcroppings in the tide pools nearby. The edge of his lip quirks up when he finally crosses that sacred boundary— the sidewalk meeting the shore— and removes his sandals, reveling in the satisfying, grainy texture of sand squishing between his toes. Hah... the beach. Funny, that. All his traveling these past years, from mountains, to prairies, to sprawling suburbs to wooded forest towns, and it only succeeded in deepening his childhood love for the familiarity of saltwater air and tourist-filled boardwalks. Still, the secluded, rustic charm of Haystack Cove is a far cry from the Beach City he grew up in. Different people, different sights, different types of seafood sold at the markets. This place feels like a home all his own, appropriately distant from the Gem influenced settlement he’d left behind.

He crosses the fine grained sands towards his favorite sitting spot, a hefty stone jutting out from the ground, its surface buffed to a glossy finish over the years by the high tides. The water’s still distant this early in the morning, glimmers of sunlight sparkling off of the foam and spray. Yawning, he plops himself down on the stone and lifts his guitar into his lap. He strums a few random chords as a warm-up before settling into an experimental melodic sequence.

As he plays, the early morning breeze teases at the ends of his shoulder-length hair, untied and let free in all its curly splendor. It’s still quite chilly, but with the sun peaking over the horizon behind him and not a cloud in sight, the air’s bound to heat up in no time. Steven inhales deeply, soaking in the salt and light and pushing away the shadows lurking at the periphery of his mind, that twitching, exhausting anxiety that never quite seems to leave him alone these days. Unfortunately, functional does not mean carefree. While far fewer in number then when he was a teen, he still runs into plenty of moments where he’s struck blind by particularly painful reminders of his past, his gem snapping into overdrive in an instant. He’s a bit better at coping in these moments now, and walking himself down from panic attacks, but deep-rooted traumas don’t simply melt away. With that in mind, at this point he suspects he’ll likely have to deal with a mixture of therapy and meds for the rest of his life. That’s fine, though. If that’s what it takes to be at peace. He’s thankfully reached a point in his recovery where he’s more than willing to work for it.

Startling him out of his roaming thoughts, his phone chimes to life, touting the same cheery ring tone he had as a kid. He gently sets his guitar down in the sand and fishes his cell phone out of his pocket, a silent bet as to who’s calling rising within his mind. Sure enough, his dad’s contact photo proudly greets him. Hah— he called it. Steven stifles a giggle as he hits accept and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Dad!”

“Hey, Schtu-ball!” his father chimes from the other side of the country, three hours ahead. He hears a faint shuffle over the line, and then the beginnings of guitar accompaniment as the man begins to sing:

“Happy birthday to you~!”

Dad ends the line with a resounding vibrato, and a few extra jazzy chords for good measure.

“Heh heh, thanks,” he says, bashfully blushing at the attention, and gazing across the loose sands as if ensuring the secret of his birth hasn’t swelled into a nauseatingly public affair like half of his birthdays had since the start of Era 3. “Gotta say, the impromptu guitar solo pushed that to a whole new level. You just get up?”

“Yep! Bright and early. Garnet said you’d probably be awake by now, so I figured I’d call and give ya’ a good greeting to start the day. Lemme guess, you’re down there at the beach already? I think I heard waves.”

Steven’s glance lifts to admire the slowly rising tides, and the promise of each tomorrow that lies beyond. “Hah, you know me,” he says softly, taking a deep lungful of that precious salt-touched air he’s always adored. “I live for the water. Might force myself to go for a swim later before all of you come. Not sure yet,” he says, shrugging as he turns and squints in the wake of the steadily rising sun. “But my therapist said I should probably keep as active as po—“

“It’s your birthday. You do whatever makes you happy, bud,” his dad promptly reminds him, slight concern sticking to his voice. And yes, it’s practically a father’s job to worry, but his chest tightens with lingering guilt for pressing that upon him anyways. Ugh, this is because he said ‘force myself,’ isn’t it?

“Doing my best to,” he lamely offers, hoping it’ll at least end that segment of conversation. He twirls a stray strand of hair around his finger as he scours his memory for something new to offer. Thankfully, his mind quickly lands on the exciting email he received last night. He grins, knowing for sure his dad’ll love this. “Oh, uh- topic change, but I got that last job I applied for, by the way.”

“Oh? The taffy shop one?”

“Yeah! I start on Tuesday.”

“Wow, that’s- that’s awesome! They responded fast, then.”

“Yup,” Steven nods, popping the ‘p.’ “Honestly, it’s nothing much, just stocking and working the register, but it’ll give me some cash to work with.”

Some cash to finally pay for his own food instead of continuously bumming money off his dad. There’s no way he can handle full month’s rent on his own with this minimum wage job, (who on Earth could in this economy), but it might be enough to cover the smaller things. Groceries, electricity, internet. That sorta stuff. Fidgeting on the edge of the stone outcropping, his bare toes dig narrow lines in the sand. He hasn’t really had this discussion with Dad yet, but the mere concept of being wholly reliant on other people steers his mind uncomfortably close to the I’m a Burden Zone. He’d far prefer to feel like he has a stake in the game.

“I know you said you don’t mind supporting me,” he continues in a hesitant tone, twirling his finger through one of his curls, “but I still feel kinda bad—“

“Don’t. I’d rather you not have to stress yourself to the bone about money like I did when I was your age.”

The line shakes for a second. He’s pretty sure he hears the faint clink of a bowl meeting the counter from his dad’s side.

“Dad...?”

“Sorry, bud. Just putting ya’ on speaker. Figured I’d make myself some instant oatmeal,” he says, his voice sounding a bit further away from the microphone. “Goodness, though. Twenty years. That still boggles the mind.”

He gives a soft laugh. “You’re telling me. Could’ve sworn I was twelve just yesterday. And to be honest, it’s... it’s kinda weird sometimes, you know?”

“What is?”

“Being another year older. ‘Cause... well, uh...”

Steven grits his teeth, searching for the most delicate manner in which he can discuss these emotions. The feelings of his past are a really hard topic to dwell on sometimes, even in therapy, and even though he and his dad have long since had scattered discussions about what a poor mental state he was in then, he doesn’t wanna upset him too much.

“There were definitely days I assumed I wouldn’t have a future, or didn’t want one to begin with,” he continues, throat thick. “Back during all the conflict, before Homeworld reformed. And even after that, when I was... you know. And things are better, now, they’re definitely a lot better. But the idea of a ‘future’... even if I’ve got a job, a home, a girlfriend... it’s still weird to think about, I guess.“

There’s a brief silence on the line as this vulnerable admission sinks in.

“Yeah,” Dad replies eventually, clear sorrow in his voice despite how careful he thought he was in phrasing these matters. “I hear ya’.”

With a quick nervous laugh, he scratches at the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing against the thin, wispy strands of hair growing back there. “Geeze, sorry for bringing the mood down so quick. Didn’t even know I had all that on my mind until it spilled right out.”

“No, no! No need for apologies, I’m always here to listen. And in any case, I’m glad you’re in a better place now.”

Steven nods his head to himself in full agreement (momentarily forgetting that his dad isn’t actually here in the flesh to see this response). Sixteen and seventeen really, really weren’t good years for him. And even though he’s put lot of work into himself since then, he can’t help but constantly fear the possibility of relapse. His therapist told him a few sessions ago when he expressed this worry that... relapses into old thinking patterns can be common for people living with C-PSTD, and that it’s important for him to be cognizant of any unusual changes in his patterns and routines so he can quickly intervene with his box of healthy coping tactics, but... geeze. The dark, traumatic destinations his wandering thoughts end up stagnating in when the concept of relapse brushes his mind aren’t fun to acknowledge. It makes him yearn with deafening hunger for a simple switch he could flip, some magic cure-all for his brain that would stop him from having to deal with any of this awful shit in the first place— but of course, cruel universe this can be at times, those don’t exist.

“Speaking of that,” Dad speaks up again after clearing his throat, “how are those new meds treating you? You said last call your doctor was gonna change them, yes?”

“Nah, not change. There’s no need to change types,” he shrugs. “It’s just a dosage shift. And it’s fine, I think. I’ve been on ‘em for a few days, and there’s no problems so far. Brain's been treating me a little better.”

Nightmares aren’t quite as bad.

His energy isn’t totally zapped by noon.

The whirling, panicked trajectory of his thought patterns is a little easier to wrest control of.

All in all, nothing’s perfect, but he certainly feels a good deal more stable than before. Now, if only he can remember to consistently take his meds before he goes to bed like he’s supposed to instead of totally forgetting like he did last night and having to scarf it down when he sees that forsaken capsule in his pill box the next morning. Tsk, tsk.

“That’s real good to hear,” his dad responds to his news.

He flexes his knuckles against his lap, gaze reflexively drifting back towards the welcomed distraction of the tides. “Yeah.”

“Anyways, I, uh...”

“So, party logistics,” he cuts in with an overly cheery tone, changing the topic from his boring mental health crap entirely. “We should probably hash this out now. I know Connie’s planning on dropping around about noon. What’s your guys’ plan? She can probably send Lion to you after she gets here, if you want.”

“Yeah, that’d be best. Pearl said there weren’t any convenient warps nearby. Well, there’s one- but apparently it empties out into an active lava tube. And that’s not exactly Dad-friendly.”

“Aww, you mean you’re not filled with the intense desire to dip your hand into molten lava and shlorp it up like it’s soup?” Steven retorts, only barely holding back his laughter as he thinks of this absurd text thread he had going with Connie a few weeks back, wherein she sent him a video of some volcanic flows and told him, verbatim, that 'despite all logic and reason sometimes I can’t help but look at super viscous lava and think... forbidden s o u p, mmmm.’

“Not particularly, no,” his dad says, sounding thoroughly confused. “I’m- why are you laughing? Is this some sort of weird internet thing I’m not familiar with again?”

He wipes tears from his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. “You, ah- you kinda had to be there, sorry. Anyways, yeah. I’ll have Connie send Lion. I’ll text you right before, how’s that?”

“Sounds great! Can’t wait to see ya’, bud. I’m gonna let you go, now, okay? I can talk your ears off later. Go enjoy your morning. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” he says, grinning. “Bye.”

“Buh-bye.”

Once his dad hangs up he sets his phone beside him on the rock and takes a deep, steady breath, trying to capture the full nuance of each diverse scent in the air. He may just be imagining it, but he swears he’s able to pick out the faint scent of taffy intermingling with the ocean saltiness and the hint of cedar from the nearby state forest. In the end though, whether it’s real or not it’s a welcomed reminder of all the possibility the future holds for him.

He’s twenty now. It’s a brand new decade of life. He’s got a new job lined up, a stable and loving relationship, a supportive family, and plenty of courage in facing the shadows of his past. Sure, so maybe he’ll never know with certainty what will happen— maybe he’ll relapse a little, maybe he’ll still have some bad days sprinkled amongst the good ones— but as he watches the tides flow in to greet him, he smiles... and resolves to just take this year as a renewal of his vow to care for himself as best he can.

[italicwatches]

The Good Place - Season 2, Episode 01

Okay, so, we’ve got a few things to run down the line.

First and foremost, you might notice the lack of image. Real talk, I delayed this by two entire series, just trying to find a way to screenshot or screen grab or somehow get a fucking image out of Netflix on mobile.

I have, as you can see, failed to do so. There might be a way to force it that I haven’t figured out yet, and if any iOS or Android wizards are reading this and can help me figure out a way to do it, I’m all ears. Until that point, we are kicking this old school.

Secondly, if you are reading this on the RPGNet forums, you might know that we are about to undergo a mega upgrade that will put us on lockdown the whole weekend.

I am not stopping for that weekend. While posts will go up after, I also post these to a tumblr blog, Italic Watches. Check in and see what’s going on, follow, reblog, annoy your friends, click on anything bell-shaped, I think that’s how it works.

Oh, and thirdly, if you’re reading this on Tumblr…We’re about to super spoil this show’s first season, which I haven’t had a chance to get up here yet. Make sure you’re caught up first, got it?

With those things said, let’s get this show on the road. It’s The Good Place, season 2, episode 01! Here we GO!

-LAST SEASON on the Good Place. Eleanor died, woke up, was told she was in the Good Place, met Chidi, revealed she wasn’t intended for the Good Place. Met the couple Tahani and Jianyu, and Jianyu is really an idiot DJ named Jason from Florida. I am not fond of him having my name. She ultimately revealed that she was a liar…And then figured out that this was all an experiment by the Bad Place crew, and this WAS the Bad Place from the start! And so, the man in charge, Michael, realized the one answer was to reboot and start things over…And Eleanor had one single chance to hide a clue…

-Chapters 14 & 15.

In his office, Michael prepares for his latest meeting with his boss who I forget the name of. He’s made a bunch of little tweaks, like how now there’s no fresh coffee, it’s JUST pod machines. And new soulmates, trained actors. He won’t let you down! Yes you will. You most absolutely will fail, and be truly infamous for the next round of eternity.

-So Michael frantically has a company meeting with his staff crew. Various demons have lots of questions, including Vicky really wanting to get to play Real Eleanor again. Now she’s stuck playing Denise, and she doesn’t get Denise, and yeah there’s a lot of uncertainty…

-But, okay. Listen, guys. The opening salvo from version one was SOLID. They’re gonna re-use it. Get Eleanor drunk as hell at the welcome party, and then get her to make mistakes so they have material for the next morning’s chaos sequence! And he gets it, that humans with their mouths and elbows suck and are the worst. Sure, you’ll be tempted to do this the easy way, the old way. But this is going to work, and it’s going to be better. Now, say it with him. One, two, three, TORTURE!

-So hey, back with Eleanor, she’s trying to figure it out and also remember Janet’s name. Which is not working. But now she has a name. Chidi. But who, or what, is Chidi? Is that a type of soup? Okay, whatever it is, it’s gotta be in this town.

-Into the town! Where she meets Nina and Bart, soulmates, and tries to figure out how to find people…And also learns there’s no phones. No phones. At all. …Fork. So that didn’t work.

-And then she runs into ‘Jianyu’, silent monk, who passes her a sprocket…? Is, is he…?

-Cue Michael! Who quickly lets her know about Jianyu, the Taiwanese monk who never speaks. Might not be the first person you should get to know, what with a barrier that big. And look, they both know you’re not like everyone else here…

-S-She isn’t?

-Your work as an environmental activist was amazing, truly amazing! “Yes, well, I loved…Mushrooms. I can honestly say that.”

-Pop quiz do you think she’s referring to the ones other people put on pizza or the magic kind.

-So of course, Michael wants her to say a few words at the welcome party…By which he means an hour. And she gets a special little something to wear.

-A sash that declares her BEST PERSON. Which she has on at the party with her new man, whose heart is in the pope, his liver in the Dalai Lama, and his teeth are a necklace for a child king. And then he immediately ditches his tux to go get ripped. I kind of like his character. Very charming meathead.

-So who’s running this amazing manor, what with it no longer being Tahani? It’s Jessica, who wants to hear her big speech! And also she brought a very full glass of wine for Eleanor…Eleanor who tries to refuse, because can you imagine being drunk right before a big speech? “Getting kicked out of your niece’s christening…And only later, once you’ve sobered up, realizing you don’t even a niece? It’s like, who was that kid?”

-The whole party, of course, is full of people trying to offer her drinks, trying to line up that first shot. The problem is, it’s not working…She eventually tries to sneak a quick shot and a few shrimps, just trying to clear her head a little, and it’s looking like things might get back on track…

-Then she hears a woman arguing with a man.

-By the name.

-Of Chidi. SHE KNEW HE WASN’T A SOUP! Listen. They need to talk. Privately.

-Flashback to the moment Chidi awoke, rebooted. And learned that all of his heroes, all of the great philosophers, are in the Bad Place. Where they go naked to a class they’ve never been to on quiz day, every day. …And then they get smashed with hammers. That part’s not as clever as the rest. But you beat all of them at actually living by the principles you spoke of…

-And where things got interesting, is that Chidi was set up with multiple soulmates. See, normally, you get matched with one person. A perfect match to your core personality, the single best person across all things for you. But every so often, you get two paired matches. And so you have a choice!

-Here. Meet Pedro, Angelique, and Pevita. So, you four have a paired match. Any one of you, would be happy with any one of the other three. So all you have to do is someone has to make the call. Have fun! Chidi, did not have fun. He did not have fun with this at all. Because if you know Chidi, well, you know how badly this was gonna be for Chidi. The man who once had a moral panic attack at a make your own sundae bar.

-Sidenote, listen, buddy, the answer is simple. Chocolate pallet. Chocolate pallet, with creamy, and some of those little cheesecake bites.

-I’d fight somebody for some of those little cheesecake bites right now. Like, just so we’re clear.

-So he started trying to get to know them both, and an incredibly obvious answer was set before him with Angelique being so much more obviously better…But literally the instant he said that, Michael came racing in, and showing that there was a calculator error from one four-hour gap in mid-2003, and with that deviation taken into account, there was a deviation somewhere deep in the decimal points that DEFINITIVELY showed that Pedro should be with Angelique and Chidi with Pevita!

-…Shit. He’s good.

-And Chidi immediately buckled under the pressure and went with it instead of standing up for himself.

-So of course, they all ran into each other at the party. Which sent things even more sideways…Oh, and to make things even messier, right after he went to the bar to try and clear his head, up came ‘Denise’ to throw an additional wrinkle…I mean until Angelique stepped in.

-Basically what I am saying is that Chidi has had a very bad day.

-Which swings us back to the Now, and to Eleanor pulling Chidi aside to have a long, serious conversation. And she takes him to a side room, and shows him the note…At some point, before she woke up here, this note, in her handwriting, was in do-not-say-her-name’s mouth. And everyone’s been trying to ply her with liquor at this party.

-Something is not adding up. Her soulmate won’t spend more than two seconds with her. And a weird monk guy gave her THIS mysterious magic bracelet. …Eleanor now that I have a better look at that I am about 95% sure that is a bicycle gear, and most of the remaining 5% is taken up by the phrase Spacely Sprocket. She can’t hear me, this is linear fiction.

-…And then Chidi takes it all off the track because he is too consumed with his own shit to help her. And then, it’s speech time!

-Actually it’s time to get back to the start point. Tahani’s waking up. …And I’m just gonna add her name to the dictionary so I don’t get a super racist autocorrect error. And she gets to meet her soulmate, Tomás, whose medical work was ultimately funded by her tireless fundraising! Such perfect pairings you’d almost think some twisted, vindictive devil was setting it all up.

-Especially since Tomás here is about a head shorter than her. And it’s just getting from bad to worse, as we see her new house with him. It’s a…

-Actually shit I kind of love this place. It’s this little cottage out in the middle of nature, comfy and cozy and I’m getting real warm vibes off of it, good job lighting team on that one. Tomás then declares that they don’t need anywhere near all this space, so, bye-bye second floor! …Listen I know he’s playing a bit to dig under all of Tahani’s unexamined superiority issues but I would fucking love this cottage.

-…Oh fuck her sister’s paintings are all over the walls. Jesus, Michael, there’s torture and then there’s just cruelty. And Tomás is just gonna go in his usual digs to this swanky shindig, so…

-So that’s how Tahani ends up at the party in the inverse of her soulmate’s clothes. He’s in jeans and a green jacket, she’s in green pants and a denim jacket. And she’s really not handling it well. “I’m just not used to dressing like a plumber-ess!”

-You know, I’d feel bad, but literally everything Tomás’s character is presenting to fuck with her is kind of my jam so mostly I’m just rolling my eyes at her…her-ness.

-They are really digging in just how bad of a person Tahani is at the zero-point, though. …Also okay I will grant, I’m not a fan of Crocs unlike Tomás here. More of a flip flop man, comes with the Californian territory.

-So he’s off to the bar, and Tahani gets a chance to talk with Michael…And of course he puts the doubt in her head, reminding her that the system is Never Wrong. And if she wants, they can change the house! Do you want a mansion like this? Bigger? How about a moon? They can put you on a fucking moon Tahani, if that is how much space you need, to be in literal space. Is that what you need? Do you need your own personal moon, Tahani?

-Still not feeling bad for zero-point Tahani.

-Like, not even a little bit.

-So we get back to the encounter point, as Tahani ends up being the one left with Eleanor’s drinks when she races after Chidi…Just in time to run into another guy wearing the same green cargo pants as her. They’re cargo pants buddies! He was a garbage man in Winnipeg, what did you do in life? …Right, time to down them shots!

-And then it’s speech time. Eleanor gets up in front of the crowd, and tries to get to work on something akin to a speech, frazzled enough to actually be trying to take this seriously—

-. . .

-o o o

-I don’t know what I expected.

-But a drunk Tahani shoving her out of the way to vent about the bullshit of her first day, was not exactly at the top of my expectation list. So she’s…Not doing great. And Michael quietly tries to encourage Eleanor to get things back on track.

-Which is when Tahani is drunk enough to demand the mansion, and so Eleanor tries to take her aside to get some coffee and Tahani is not having it. “Is this your first time ever wearing a sash?!” …Well good job, Tahani, you made me sympathize with and feel bad for (nearly) zero-point Eleanor. That is not an easy task.

So that’s how Tahani…

-Um…

-…Oh boy.

-Oh dear.

-She rips the sash off of Eleanor. Stumbles back over the shrimp table. Knocks over a candelabra. And sets the curtains on fire.

-…Not a great day for Tahani.

-Back to the zero point, for our final man. ‘Jianyu’ woke up, and got handed his chance to just keep his mouth shut. And learned that his own soulmate connection was more deeply forged on a spiritual level than a romantic one. Which is how he met Luang, a fellow Buddhist monk. Binary souls, a perfect reflection of the other!

-And indeed, they spent all their time together, with lots of action mirroring, much to Jianyu’s frustration…Which led to that encounter with Eleanor. Right when he was taking the gear and wheels off of Luang’s bicycle to better ditch him. Which is how Eleanor ended up with that gear, right off the bike, before Jianyu rode off in a flash, finally on his own…

-Only to find Luang waiting for him back at their shared hut. Because of course.

-So to their point in the party, where Jianyu got introduced to the whole Janet situation. And got a pair of heaping glasses of yak’s milk. Jianyu did not do well with it, to say the least.

-So back into the Now, Tahani goes down hard as the fires burn furiously, and Jianyu books it, and right about when Tahani is sobbing about an excessive amount of pockets, Michael realizes shirt is off script.

-Back to his office, to the zero-point for him, and to all the lining up the details. Setting up Eleanor for the speech. Torturing Tahani in her little ways. Setting up Jianyu with the one character who would be of no help to him. Chidi’s hellish situation…And then ‘Denise’ pulling him aside.

-Vicky’s still not liking this situation one bit. Even if Denise runs the best pizza place in town and has a cat, and Michael insists those are pretty cool. …I mean, he’s not wrong there, but Vicky adored playing Real Eleanor! She got to break Chidi’s heart like 20 times, and really mess with him, but now Angelique is playing the game?! She’s a Ferrari stuck in the garage while some little Smart Car put-puts around!

-Listen, listen listen listen. You’ve got a great part coming up in just a few decades, and it includes Chidi. He’s gonna accidentally kill your cat. And it’ll TORTURE him. …Just give her a bigger part! A character bit! You know what, give her a limp! Just SOMETHING to act with!

-Which explains Denise’s whole circus-injury thing when she ‘ran into’ Chidi. I’m not gonna lie I might be more invested in Vicky the bristling actress than in a lot of the other hooks for the actual main characters.

-And things were starting to line up, as Michael checked in with some of the others…And learned that Eleanor wasn’t drinking. Eleanor, who snuck a flask into the car with her during her driving test. But okay, just start moving it forward, aim for the speech…

-And then, well, you know the rest of how that went. And Chidi pulls Eleanor aside, because he’s realizing things aren’t lining up. That note, it was on a page of a book he used to teach. He’s getting…Some kind of feeling off of her, one of those deja vu ‘swear I’ve met you before’ vibes. …Eleanor is pretty convinced that that’s some kind of pickup line. And she’s not entirely turning the idea down, either.

-You know, there was a lot of speculation on whether Eleanor might be bi or such given her attraction to Tahani bubbling up through the first season, but real talk I think she’s just horny.

-Anyways, Michael pulls some core cast into another room to talk, because things are off the rails. You can’t build a chaos sequence for Tahani because Tahani isn’t in here on the “mistaken identity” fiction! They need to get something going with Eleanor, where is she?

-…Good question, Michael.

-Great question.

-Superb question.

-Nobody knows.

-Also Chidi and Jay are also missing.

-Michael is…Shall we say…Displeased. And then Eleanor’s ‘soulmate’ comes to check in because it turns out he’s been claiming he’s off to the gym literally every time Eleanor tries to confess to him. So he really is a meathead.

-How. Many. Times. Have you claimed you were going to go to the gym, or work out, or otherwise used exercise to escape. “Five…No, nine!” Listen, he liked his old job! It was simple! He was a twister! People came in, he twisted them until they snapped in half, he moved on to the next person! But this job is weird! It’s all talking, and emotions, and nobody’s getting twisted! Now he’s REALLY going to the gym!

-Okay. Okay. Deep breath. They need the four humans so they can get back on track. …MOVE YOU IDIOTS! MOVE!

-Cut over to Chidi and Eleanor, who’ve caught up, and Chidi’s…Not handling it well. They clearly met before. But not in life. But she’s not supposed to be here. And this is their first day here. Is he also not supposed to be here?! Did they meet in the Bad Place, or some other cosmic metaphor?!

-And what do they DO?! Eleanor has no idea, but they need to figure it out…!

-Late at night, all on his own, Jay calls up Janet. And in need of someone to talk to, confesses you know everything he’s confessing. So Janet listens, and Jay just wants to be less confused and lonely…And so Janet has somewhere he can go, and so he hugs her, as their ship starts to build back up.

-Back at Eleanor’s place, Chidi’s…Well he’s gotten it to two possibilities. This book this is from is not exactly a 101 text. It’s something he taught at the grad-school level. So, they must have had a lot of time to discuss and study the material…Or, you know, you just tore it out of the first book you found. But still, it’s something.

-And that’s when Michael finds them! Here to apologize for the commotion at the party, and to escort Chidi back home. Which is when Tahani drops by to return the sash after everything that happened…And she’s feeling things aren’t right!

-And that’s when Tomás finds them, and also Pevita. And Janet brings Jay on by and Eleanor is still convinced that that bicycle gear is a magic amulet and Luang comes to get Jianyu and…

-…And Jay breaks character openly and in front of everyone and then Eleanor’s man shows up and, seeing things are off the rails, he just rips his suit off once again to go back to the gym. Again.

-And Eleanor can tell you one thing right here. This is NOT what Michael there’s saying it is. This is NOT the Good Place. This is some…Some prank show! And then she reveals the note, and Michael can’t help but laugh. Very clever, Eleanor! This does explain how things went off-script immediately. But okay, another loop, and without any tricks or built-up materials this time!

-Tahani tries to talk to his boss and SNAP

-Fresh meeting with the crew. You know the human saying, third time’s the charm, right folks? Listen, it was a false start, but Eleanor has no note…He calls up Janet, and checks her internals all the way shoulder deep. …Hey, Michael, did you check with Shawn the boss-man? Of course! And he thought it was very funny and is very supportive and don’t call him he’s a busy man.

-Any other questions? Vicky has one! Michael is not acknowledging it. At all. Then it’s back to his office, where…Shawn calls in and what is going on, Michael? And Michael just starts lying through his god damned teeth about how attempt number 2 is going. You will not be getting an attempt number three if this goes awry, Michael. …Riiiight. Right right right.

-Credits!

…Well that did not go how I expected.

[spectrumscribe]

Do Kaiju even like apples?

a Pacific Rim and TMNT 2014/16 fusion, introducing budding science sister and her tiny monster brothers. (who won’t be tiny for long.)

@rhi-draws-things​ provided the illustrations, bless them.

trying a new method of posting stories to tumblr, i think i’ll just add each new installment to this post under the cut of a reblog. have ‘em all together for your reading leisure. enjoy this first one!

April is pretty sure she should have stuck it out at school, and just slept in the nurse’s office.

At least then she would have had an actual bed, rather than be stuck in a hard plastic chair and drowsing while the base’s occupants ran around like kicked ants. Apparently something of the top secret project April knew next to nothing about (hence the ‘top secret’ part of things) had escaped, and everyone had gone zero to sixty in an instant the moment sirens went off.

April had found herself shoved into the nearest staff room, told to lock the door, and not to move until someone came and got her. She’d been expecting that her dad would just look over some documents too important to put off, and then they’d go home so she could sleep off her fever.

No such luck. The sirens outside of her meagrely furnished staff room are still droning, and April is falling asleep despite the awful chair. At least someone lent her a coat at some point, and she’s only shivering a little in the oversized thing.

Her unfinished lunch remains in its baggy near her face, as she leans forward with her cheek pressed to the table. She’d tried to convince herself again to eat, since getting better requires energy, but hasn’t had much luck. It drifts in and out of focus as her eyes get heavier, and giving in, April just lets the fever drag her under into a light nap.

The sirens aren’t enough to keep her awake, or even make her panic longer than the first minute they’d been going.  She knows they’re not for a Kaiju attack, and even if they were, she’s inside a military base. There are no active Jaegers here, but there’s some just up the coastline of New York. She’s safe as she could get, outside of a Kaiju shelter.

And, she’s sick. Being sick makes it easier to just not care.

April naps for a period of time she doesn’t remember, and doesn’t rouse again even after the alarms are turned off. She doesn’t notice they have been, and doesn’t know it’s simply because everyone got sick of listening to them while hunting for the escaped subject.

April doesn’t hear the door’s lock be broken from the inside, and doesn’t hear it open and shut with a quiet noise. What she does hear, oddly enough, is the sound of someone messing with her uneaten sandwich.

April blearily opens her eyes, too hot and too cold at the same time, and really annoyed with whatever’s woken her back up to that.

Three claws are sunk into the tip of her sandwich’s baggy, and four wide eyes stare back at her, just over the lip of the table.

The four gold eyes blink at her. April blinks her two blue ones a few times to confirm its real.

She screams.

The owner of the four eyes screams back, and runs away.

April nearly falls out of her chair, scrambling away from the table and the thing with all the coordination possible of a sick individual. She runs into another crappy chair and does fall over, yelping as she goes down.

There’s a dizzying moment, worsened by her illness, in which everything spins in terrible circles. April finally recovers enough to gingerly sit back up; half convinced she’s just had a hallucination.

But, no. That’s definitely a pintsized Kaiju scrabbling around on the linoleum across the room from her.

“Oh my god,” April whispers in horror, and then jumps with a shriek as the creature hisses balefully at her.

She untangles her legs from the chair’s, and manages to get to her feet and press against the wall of the room. April is hyperventilating a little, watching the tiny Kaiju pace and snarl on the other end of their shared space.

It’s between her and the coatracks, where she hung her backpack earlier. Her backpack contains her cellphone, which is what she needs, right this instant, so she can call her dad and the army and if they have one an indoor Jaeger because oh my fucking god, that’s a Kaiju.

A really.

Really.

Small Kaiju.

It’s about the size of an overly large housecat, with a long, strong looking tail whipping around behind it as it paces. Purple spots of bioluminescence follow the length of its body, which cause a bit of nausea to look at when it keeps moving so quickly, and April is still very sick feeling.

The segmented plates on its back almost look like a shell, April thinks distantly. Like a turtle and a dragon and a cattish thing all got mixed together.

It stands up on two legs then, walking perfectly fine like that. April amends and changes the cattish part to lemurish, maybe even humanish. It’s the tail that’s really the tipping point, making the walk ever so slightly abnormal in its gait.

April is very, very dizzy. Oof. Everything is spinning even while she’s still leaning against the wall. Couldn’t the tiny Kaiju have chosen to terrorize her on a day when she wasn’t ill? Is that too much to ask from fate, given that the war was supposed to be over?

“…I guess you’re the one everyone’s looking for,” April says faintly, mostly to herself. The little Kaiju shrieks and hops away to press against the far wall, pacing and tittering nervously. And it is nervous, April is realizing. If she hadn’t known better, she’d almost think the little thing is as scared as she feels at the moment.

But Kaiju are city destroying titans, not afraid even when a Jaeger is thundering towards them. It wouldn’t make sense for even a tiny one to be afraid of a sick teenage girl.

Oh, but this one really is awfully small. April could probably hold it with one arm if she tried.

April reminds herself to focus. Thoughts like that are for after she’s certain she isn’t going to get mauled.

The little Kaiju is eyeing her, but also- as April notices the break of focus every couple seconds- the table April had been sleeping at.

April looks at the sandwich on the table.

She formulates a plan.

Taking a careful step forwards, April starts to move towards the table. She’s nearly startled backwards all over again when the Kaiju makes a leap towards her, only for it to back off immediately. It’s hissing and spitting, but really, it’s just making a show instead of real threats.

The coatrack is directly above where the Kaiju is pacing. April slowly picks up her sandwich.

“Hey, little… guy,” April settles on the addressment, since it’s better than spawn of world destroyers or the like. “Do you want some food?”

The Kaiju watches her warily, but has stopped shrieking every time she moves. It’s clearly torn between following her and the sandwich at the same time; intent gold eyes boring holes into both.

April opens the bag slowly, and takes out half the sandwich.

“Here… look, its fake bologna and lettuce. Mmm, right? Really tasty, I promise. Fake processed meat is about the same as actual processed meat in nutrients anyway.”

The Kaiju inches forwards in half steps, eyes darting between her face and the treat. April takes a chance and tosses the triangle of food onto the floor in front of it.

The food is snapped up immediately, and in an act of definitely inhuman physiology, the sandwich piece disappears into the Kaiju’s mouth. April sees the hinges of its jawline open wider than a human’s would, or even most animals. She gulps quietly at the rows of sharp teeth it has, which flash as it chews noisily.

It’s looking at her now less with fear, more with curiosity. And it’s moving away from the coatrack. Good. April takes out the other half of the sandwich, and figures she can blame her illness for making her think this next step is a good plan.

“You gotta come and take this one from me, dude,” she tells it softly, holding out the sandwich halve and bending down a little. “C’mon… I’m probably not the one who’s gonna bite anyone here…”

Faster than she thought, the Kaiju approaches her. It moves in cautious steps, but is steadily losing the edge of wariness. By the time it tentatively puts a claw on the bread, its eyes are all on the sandwich, and April can step around it without even a hiss in response.

She makes a hasty beeline for her backpack, digging out her phone frantically and thumbing open the screen. She gets open her text messages, and then slowly comes to a stop, fingers hovering.

Soft and chirrupy noises have taken the place of shrieks and hissing, and April glances behind her.

The little Kaiju is sitting with its legs in a clumsy fold, resembling lotus flower position, and is talking adamantly to itself as it dissects the second sandwich halve. Rather than scarf it down, it’s taking the time to examine and… narrate the pieces of the sandwich.

And, in a way, the sounds aren’t just sounds, but are closer to actual words.

April is truly her father’s daughter, because she immediately thinks amazing, and is there more to discover here?

April looks back into the open mouth of her backpack, seeing her baggy of apple slices inside.

Retrieving them, April creeps back towards the Kaijuling. Baby Kaiju? There have only ever been full grown monstrosities publically documented, nothing about early stages of their growth cycles. There’s no word for this creature yet, and even then. April suspects there’s been meddling with its DNA, since there’s no way anything could evolve to have such a drastic growth period between infant and adult.

Except it’s an alien, so. Earth rules might not apply.

April slowly comes to kneel a cautious distance from the little creature. She opens the baggy, and steels herself from startling as its four eyes whip around to stare at her.

Do Kaiju even like apples?

One way to find out.

April wordlessly holds out a slice of apple. It’s been kept fresh by lemon she’d squeezed onto it yesterday, when she didn’t have a damn fever.

“Want one?” she asks. There’s a pause, and then the Kaiju makes a sound of joyful interest.

Without further prompt or hesitation, it slips over to her on all fours, and sits back up to wrap a small clawed hand around the slice. April watches, fascinated and rapidly losing her own fears, as it nibbles at the snack food.

When the first slice is gone, and the little Kaiju is licking its approximation of lips with its pointed tongue, it holds out its hands and makes grabbing gestures and coos impatiently.

“Say please,” April says automatically, and realizes it’s because the behaviors remind her strikingly of a small child.

It stares at her, looking annoyed. April is stunned quietly that it can express annoyance, and not just want or fear something.

“Say please?” she requests again, experimentally.

“Sss… say p’ease?”

April’s mouth falls open, a taking a sharp breath in.

“Say p’ease?” the Kaiju repeats, high voiced and unpracticed. Mimicking her, but not perfectly, missing the harder to pronounce part of a new word, like a child would.

Like a child would.

April hands over the next apple slice, and manages to mumble, “Yeah, that’s right. Say please. Good job.”

“Good job,” repeats back the Kaiju, nearly chirping it, and bites the new slice in half happily. April is still processing her shock as it shifts closer to her, pressing against her leg with its little ones and making grabby gestures again.

“Say p’ease,” it says with confidence, tail flicking against the floor in anticipation.

“…you’re very smart, aren’t you?” April says to it.

The little Kaiju coos and only has eyes for the apple slices. April hands another one over as requested. This time is a little different, though, as it catches her hand with its own free one. She holds perfectly still as it multitasks nibbling the fruit, and examining her pale pink palms and darker skin everywhere else.

April is not particularly afraid, she finds, watching the creature pick at her short finger nails with its wicked little claws.

“Say p’ease, good job,” it pronounces, apparently done with the examination. It grabs for the bag in April’s right hand, and April holds it away on instinct.

“No,” she tells it. It starts to sit up, reaching for it. “No,” April repeats, more firmly. “You ask nicely if you want more. Say please.”

The Kaiju’s face screws up in a pout, its big eyes squinting in annoyance. Its tail lashes for a moment, and then it says in a distinctly put upon voice, “Say p’ease?”

Purely and clearly, that’s the voice of a fed up toddler not getting what they want, and going along because it’s the only way to get it.

April finds herself fighting a smile, and laughing a little. He looks so cute, so frustrated like that.

“Okay, you can have another, now,” she informs him, and gives another piece of apple to the Kaiju. He takes it, but manages to look sulky about it.

April’s knees are starting to cramp like this, and she shifts into a lotus position like her Kaiju friend. She moves away from him to do so, trying to avoid disturbing him with her careful movements, but is surprised when he moves right back next to her once she’s settled.

And then climbs into her lap, fearless and curious about the jacket she’s got on, and the chance to get more apples sooner. April is a little uncomfortable having a mouthful of sharp incisors and hands tipped in claws so close to her vitals, but that’s tempered by the excited tittering the Kaiju makes, picking at the undone zipper of her jacket.

He’s so curious about everything, now that he’s not scared out of his mind. It’s almost like the time April held a large parrot, when a conservationist moved into the apartment next to her and her dad- the huge bird had been noisy and curious, and just enough of a discomfort near her face it’d been a thrill to hold him.

It’s like that, right now, combined with the time she held a baby of a colleague her dad has. Exciting and a little scary, and part of her is worried she’ll upset things if she moves wrong.

April stifles a sound of pain as the Kaiju discovers her coils and tugs on a fistful. She teaches him again about the word no.

It’s only after he’s settled comfortably into her lap, chewing on the last of slices of apple, that April remembers she should probably call someone about this.

It’s made a little harder than usual to text, since somebody has decided the thing he wants most in the world is now her phone.

She’s still trying to explain that no, he can’t have it, and that tapping it rapidly with his claws is just going to scratch the screen- “Pads, you use the pads of your fingers,”- when the door is all but kicked off its hinges behind them.

“There it is!” someone bellows, and April’s little Kaiju friend loses his cool.

The winding tail wrapped loosely around her arm is switched to her stomach, and April is treated to the feeling of being strangled around the midriff and claw tips nearly puncturing her jacket’s fabric.

“Ow, no, hey,” she says, as she gets unsteadily off the ground and backs hastily away from the door. She pats uselessly at the hard ridges of his back. “Dude, hey, I need to- breathe and stuff- ow-”

“Ms. O’Neil, stop moving!” commands the soldier, and oh joy, he’s got a gun. April thinks it’s a tranq gun, and neither it nor he and the other soldiers pouring in are doing anything to calm things down.

“April!” yells her dad, fighting his way through the clog of bodies in the doorway. His eyes are wide with fear as he catches sight of the Kaiju wrapped around his daughter, and looks about ready to throw up.

The little Kaiju shrieks, lighting up hostile purple again and baring its fangs at the intruders. Immediately the sound of safety catches clicking off are heard, and April throws up a hand. “Guys, stop it! You’re scaring him-!”

A particularly brash soldier strides forwards, arm outstretched and aiming to rip the Kaiju off April forcefully, and the tail around April’s waist comes away in a whip quick slash.

The soldier cries out as a bright red seam of blood appears across his face, and April stares in shock at the long barb abruptly produced from the end of the tail.

“NO!”  screams the little Kaiju, slashing its long thin barb in the air in front of them. “NO, NO, NO!”

April hysterically thinks she taught him the word no a little too well.

“Hey- WHOA, okay, everyone just-” April takes a number of steps back from the panicking soldiers and her father, trying to keep people out of stabbing range of the tail barb. “-take a deep breath, okay? I’m fine, it’s cool, just stop freaking him out already.”

There’s a murmur of dissent, soldiers shifting uneasily as they try to find an angle to come at them from, and April hears a quiet hiccup beside her neck.

“No, no, no,” repeats her little friend, words shifting into desperate little growls and keens. He’s pressing close as possible to her, strong little limbs clinging tightly, and he’s trembling as he does.

His tail slashing in the air and bared teeth and brightly lit threat display all say animal, dangerous, monster… but the sobs underneath all that say scared little kid.

She raises her hand to run it down his shell-like back plates, turning her own back to everyone and shielding him. “It’s fine, it’s okay, shhh, calm down, buddy. We’re okay. We’re okay. No knifing anybody with your- tail. Thing. Okay? Just… gotta calm down. Just… shh, kiddo… it’s gonna be alright… you’ll be okay, I got you. You’re safe.”

April feels his tail stop slashing around, and slowly, carefully, come back to curl around her middle. She only feels a brief moment of fear she’ll get stabbed by the thin barb, but no pain comes as the tip curls around to her front.

There’s quiet, rapid conversation behind her, and April casts a glance over her shoulder as a harsher whisper-shout makes her friend stiffen in fear.

“Hey!” she snaps at everyone gathered. “Shut up and go away!” The stunned silence following that is satisfying on a level.

Not the politest thing she’s ever said, but she’s sick and exhausted by the emotional roller coaster and there’s a kid in her arms crying still. Not okay by any account.

Oh god the military made tiny Kaijus that are actually tiny babies and April is literally just some teenager. What the hell is she supposed to do about all this? The minute she lets go of him he’ll probably end up back in a lab- a lab her dad works in, does he know that this kid is a literal kid-?

A hundred terrible scenarios flash across her mind about what might be done to her little friend, and April feels even sicker than she was already.

“…April? Are you alright?”

She looks over her shoulder again, at her carefully approaching father. His dark forehead has sweat sheen to it, and he’s darting glances between her and the Kaiju growling at him.

April shushes him again, and he quiets for the most part. He stills tightens his tail around her, though. Determined to stay, determined to defend.

Oh, but he’s so small, and clearly so young, and god, what even happened to create a creature like this? To create a person like this? A scaly little person with a tail and fangs and bioluminescence, who is terrified out of his mind and only trusts April.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” April finally responds, holding her friend in a gentle hug and wondering if she’s the first person to have ever done so.

“Did it… hurt you anywhere? Can you get it to-”

“He’s not an it,” April says firmly, feeling abruptly and fiercely protective. “He’s a little kid, dad. What the hell?”

What the hell does the military want with him? What the hell can I do to prove he’s a person? What the hell did you do, dad?

“Did you know he can talk?” April asks, angry and sad. “Did you know he learn words after only a few tries? Did you know anything like that about him?”

Her father is quiet for a moment, and then says, “No… no I didn’t. They weren’t supposed to be able to do those things.”

“…well he can,” April says, and hugs her little friend tighter. He makes a soft sound of confusion, and presses his cold flat nose to her neck, huffing in concern.

She takes a deep breath, and looks back again. “How many more?” she asks, uncaring that there’s still a few soldiers lingering in the doorway and clearly not on board with what’s happening.

“…three more,” her dad answers, a look of dread entering his expression. “We made four of them. They were only supposed to be subjects for observation and study. Kaiju on a smaller scale, with the ability to respond to communications and possibly even communicate back. But… it wasn’t supposed to be more than that.”

“What did you do to make him small and smart?” April asks, already knowing the answer.

“…we mixed human DNA into the sequence. It was a choice from above my station, hon, I swear. We didn’t know.”

April sighs, and wonders if any adults even try to remember the stuff science fiction and fantasy taught you about playing god with life.

“I think you did a lot more than make pocket-sized Kaiju, dad,” April says, petting her friend’s plated back as he makes a rumbly little purr against her shoulder.

Her dad lets out a ragged breath. “I’m starting to think that, too.”

April gets to keep holding her little friend- someone who turns out to be Donatello, according to the codename she drew out of a hat two months ago, back in her home apartment with her dad. He’d told her it’s for an upcoming project, and she’d thought the game of pulling famous artists out of a hat was just that. A game.

She named them all, all four of them, however indirectly and unknowingly. They’re only a handful of weeks old now- and already so big and smart, compared to human children- but they’re still so… young. Vulnerable.

April cradles Donatello until he falls asleep, nestled against her and playing with her shoulder length coils. Her father sends the soldiers out of the room, and someone important looking shows up in a uniform with a lot of medals and stripes on it.

April clutches Donatello close, who refuses to relinquish his own desperate clutch, and tries to talk a woman nearly three times her age around to April’s point of view.

It doesn’t work how she wants it to, but there’s room for future debate. More discussions and tests to be conducted, and a chance.

April is going to seize that chance and sink her teeth into it and refuse to let go, much like how Donatello does when he gets the idea to starting biting her hair.

She coaxes him off that idea by heckling her dad into handing over one of the hard candies he’s always got in his pockets. It goes over well, and from the intent expression of her father, and his fellow scientists peering in through the doorway, this is Donatello’s first experience with sugary sweets.

He likes it. A lot. Crunching it between his incisors and asking for more afterwards, using his most polite so far, “Say p’ease?”

April’s dad and his boss nearly fall out of their chairs at that. One of the scientists in the doorway clutches his chest and just about faints. It’s a brief spell of relief from the seriousness of things, and April makes sure Donatello gets the candy he so politely asked for.

Donatello is a little heavy by the time they lead her back to his containment cell, which is a room a little smaller than a child’s would be. And it’s bare of anything but a pet bed and some blankets shoved into a corner.

April feels so, so very bad for peeling her sleeping friend off herself, and gently lowering him to rest in the bed. She covers him up with the blankets, and sees him curl into a little ball underneath.

April is stuck for a moment, just watching the blankets rise and fall with his breathing. She doesn’t know what his future from this point will be like, and that scares the daylights out of her.

It only took about two hours for her to get this attached. God knows what she’ll feel like in another week, or less.

It’s hard to get up and walk out, but the rules are that the tests get done before anything is concrete, and that includes April staying away to not contaminate the procedure.

April is tired, still feverish, and now she’s angrily sad on top of all that. She puts one foot in front of the other, and forces herself to make it home before lying down and passing out from sheer exhaustion.

April has uneasy dreams that night, blurry and unhappy, and continues to until she sees Donatello again, and knows he’s going to be okay. That they all will be, him and his incredible siblings.

The next time she picks up Donatello, April is certain she’d never put him down if she could. Him, or any of the other little Kaiju children. Small, and strange, and so in need of somebody to love them.

Of course, within a few years, she can’t even hope to carry around any of them. By that point, they can lift her, and do so just to show off.

But she doesn’t forget the first time few times, how it felt to have Donnie’s tail coil around her midriff and curl tightly there. How it felt to have Raph’s puppyishly big hands hold onto hers as they walked through the hall. How it felt when Leo would cling to her legs and refuse to let go. How it felt to have Mikey clamber up her back and demand piggyback rides as long as he could get them.

When they’re older, they tend more to pick up April and carry her around. It’s easy, since they double in size within the first two years, and then keep going until they tower over everybody on base.

April never does forget, though. And never wants to.

Commission info & Kofi link.

[peinde]

the salty af munday meme

☠ What does someone have to do for an instant unfollow from you? make a callout post

♥ What’s the WORST thing that has happened to you rp wise? there was a terrible false callout post once made about me and it sent me into a panic attack

♦ What was a mildly annoying thing that has happened to you rp wise? being pestered to reply to things

♢ Has anyone ever tried to steal your blog? Your headcanons? Icons? All that jazz no? at least not that i’m aware of

♚ How many people don’t like you? LOL probably a lot. this blog’s been around for 2 years and i’ve had other blogs floating around too. it’s hard not to have SOMEONE dislike you on this website TBH

⚜ How many people do you not like? there are a good few. i don’t follow any of them though and i have most of them blocked

✮ Have you managed to stay away from drama? since that callout post, yeah! i just prefer to be under the radar

☄ Have you ever been in the middle of drama? yes

☯ Have you ever tried to bring peace to a situation? yeah. nobody gains anything from exacerbating drama.

☼ How long do you stay mad? oh, forever LOL unless we talk about it

☀ What’s your rp pet peeve? people settling matters publicly instead of privately

☁ Have you ever forgiven a partner when you shouldn’t have? no? i don’t regret forgiveness. that’s stupid

☂ Have you ever been forgiven when you knew you shouldn’t have been? i don’t think so?

☢ What fads/trends are you so over? hating Feferi LMAO

☣ Have you ever rp’d with someone you knew for a fact was abusive but tried to give them a chance/to make up your own opinion on the roleplayer? Did they change or did you understand what people were talking about? not really. i’ve never been in such a situation before

♨ Have you ever made a public call out post? hell no

❀ What has made you completely lose your chill? so many things LOL

✿ What do you think about public call out posts? i think i made that clear already, but in the case i didn’t, i abhor them

✂ A fandom that you feel isn’t open and accepting? IDK i’ve only been in one LOL

✉ A fandom that you feel is open and accepting? again i have no frame of reference to compare

✦ Thoughts on duplicates following you? i love them!

✧ Do you agree with reblog karma or is it forced interaction? it’s def forced interaction. i try to send in ask memes whenever i can, but it shouldn’t be mandatory

❥ Has someone ever ruined an FC or character for you? never!

❦ Has someone been jealous of you? ??? if they have been IDK

❧ Have you ever been jealous of anyone? yeah, but we eventually talked it through

✖ How has Tumblr RP changed since you started? i think it’s getting smarter in ways. people are a lot less tolerant of bullshit, and a lot more tolerant of creativity!

♒ Thoughts on the fandom you’re currently rping in? i love this shit fandom

❣ How salty are you feeling right now? kinda salty LOOOL

[poetic-mime-blog]

I’m going to type out my thoughts on a matter here instead of reblogging a post and risking attracting more drama to my brother’s blog. Feel free to ignore this.

From my understanding, here’s how the chain of events went: 

- My brother was constantly bending over backwards to please and ensure that “F” was feeling safe and all right. He was also begging for communication from “F” so that there would be less issues arising, and so that their friendship could flourish in a healthy manner. Instead, he was given excuses and a refusal to establish healthy communication. Nonetheless, my brother still continued to do all that he could to keep things as stable as possible. 

- My brother shares a sketch with some friends. It included a hairstyle he had never done before, and he had not used any references for it, and he was proud of the outcome. One of his friends, “A,” who had no connections to “F” whatsoever, offered critique without first asking if my brother wanted it. This happened in a DM on Discord. Unfortunately, my brother was not in a good enough mindset to handle that and he started splitting on “A.” Unwarranted critique is a trigger for my brother thanks to some bad experiences in the past.

- My brother, upset, goes into a Discord server that he, “F” and some other friends are in, goes to the vent channel, and types out a very short rant about the situation and his frustration over it, as the unwarranted critique is something that has been happening consistently. All from different people. 

- “F” responds to the rant by making a message saying that they’re going to be muting the channel, as they can’t handle “reactionary negativity.” Nothing negative was said towards them as a result, on any front, and the subject was simply dropped immediately afterwards in the server. 

- My brother goes to his own blog to ramble then, to blow off some steam. He tagged the post as “negative” to help ensure it would be caught by those who had that tag blacklisted. He didn’t use “drama,” as it didn’t fit the situation. 

- Suddenly, “F” is blatantly avoiding and ignoring my brother. They were posting in the server at the time that my brother finished another sketch, which happened to be of one of “F”’s favorite characters of my brother’s. My brother excitedly sent “F” the sketch to share it. “F” did not respond and immediately stopped talking in the server. This was very odd behavior for “F” when nothing negative, as far as my brother was aware, had happened between them, and it set off my brother’s anxiety, but he didn’t think much of it, wanting to give “F” the benefit of the doubt instead of letting his anxiety run rampant. 

- The next day, my brother sees “F” posting in the server again. He messages “F” and asks if he did anything to upset “F.” Again, “F” immediately stops posting in the server and does not respond. At that point, my brother knew he was being ignored and he began to panic. He is left in this turmoil for hours, and eventually he leaves the server due to his panicking and feeling unwelcome by “F,” who created said server. 

- When “F” finally responds, it is with a vague message of, “I’m not in a position to explain myself, don’t beat yourself up over this >u<” This did not clarify if my brother had done anything to upset “F” or if “F” was upset over something else and my brother was simply caught in the cross of it, which had happened before. The not knowing and the tone that offered no concern over my brother’s own well-being due to “F”’s actions caused my brother to break down severely. 

- Messiah, one of our system protectors, was then triggered to the front, and he sent a very blunt message to “F,” saying that their actions were not okay. They offered no comfort or clarification as to what was going on, and my brother was feeling as if they were going to be abandoned. They were causing blatant harm to my brother, when my brother had been doing everything at this point to cater to “F”’s every need, and never returning that kindness. He mentioned that friends should not be doing what “F” was doing to my brother, as they were supposed to be friends. 

- “F”’s response to this was to block my brother on Discord and everywhere else without another word. This only made everything worse. It caused my brother to go into what are now weeks’ worth of depressive spirals, suicidal spells, and total instability. Abandonment is one of my brother’s biggest triggers. Period. 

- A few days ago, I attempted to extend an olive branch from my blog here, as my brother was still willing to try and work things out despite how toxic the situation had been. I was met with another, totally apathetic message, and blocked. It also contained an excuse of “our disorders just don’t work well together.” My brother has BPD, and “F” says that they have “AvPD.” However, I think it can be agreed with that there is a difference in saying, “I have this disorder and these struggles” and using said disorder as a crutch and as a way to say behavior cannot be improved and that one is not responsible for their own actions due to said disorder. The latter is exactly what “F” had been and continues to be doing.

- Yesterday, my brother finally decided to come out in the open about this situation. He used as many details as they could leading up to the abandonment, using only facts, and keeping “F” unnamed. He did not call “F” any derogatory names. He emphasized how negatively he has been impacted by this situation, as the entire thing boiled down to “F”’s refusal to communicate with him. If communication had been established as it should have been, my brother and “F” wouldn’t have had nearly as many issues as they did. And these issues were always minor. 

- Not all that long after, my brother received an anon whose message accused my brother of “taking this out on “F.”” The thing is, the only thing my brother did was lay everything that happened out on the table, explain why he has been so unstable and upset lately, and hint to the fact that “F” should take responsibility for their own actions. He has not sent anon hate to “F,” told anyone to harass them, or try to tell other people to not be friends with “F.” 

- This anon’s typing style and tone were nearly identical with the message I received here when I reached out to “F” so we and several of our friends are convinced that the anon was “F” themself, attempting to get my brother to shut up about what happened, as they don’t see themself as being in the wrong whatsoever. This hypothesis can also be backed by the fact that my brother did not have “F” blocked anywhere before the anon was sent. After answering it, my brother blocked “F”’s blogs, and there has not been a single negative anon over the situation since. 

Going off of all that, I can say that I see “F” as both toxic and an abuser. They cut my brother off the instant he was no longer a convenient presence for them, and after the one singular time one of us called them out on their toxic behavior. Keep in mind, “F” knew we are multiple and even claimed to have other friends who have DID, so punishing my brother for one of us standing up for him is disgusting to all of us that were aware of the situation. They walked all over my brother, made him jump through hoops to keep them happy while he was neglecting his own mental and emotional health to do so out of fear of saying anything negative to them. 

My brother actually had a similar “avoidance” situation happen between him and a different friend, “V.” My brother was having an unstable day to begin with, and “V” accidentally caused my brother to start splitting harshly on them. He reacted impulsively by going offline and not speaking to “V” without explanation. The next day, he saw how distressed “V” had become over it. His reaction was to apologize for hurting them, explain what caused him to react in such a manner, and to talk things out. There was also an agreement that he offered: if he was to start splitting like that again, he would tell “V” that he was splitting, and that he needed space, but they would be okay and they could talk things out later. 

This sort of explanation is what my brother begged “F” for in the cases that “F” would shut him out. A very simple but comforting explanation. “I can’t talk right now but we’re still friends.” That was all my brother ever wanted from “F,” but that was too much to ask for, apparently. 

Collectively, we’re autistic and have an assortment of other mental illnesses besides BPD. Saying vague things like what “F” did as their answer to my brother being scared out of his mind that he was about to lose his friend, offer no comfort and only cause confusion and more panic. 

And yet, the “anon” that sent my brother an apathetic message over the situation told us that “he”--lumping Messiah and my brother into the same category, reading as if they’re calling them the same person--overreacted to them saying they needed space. Messiah “overreacted” when they offered no explanation for anything whatsoever and caused my brother to start panicking and sobbing in the front because he didn’t know what was going on. A stern message, telling someone that causing their friend pain isn’t okay and that they need to communicate with their friend is “overreacting.” 

“F,” I don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but you are shit at hiding yourself on anon, and myself and ten other people (not in our system, mind you. I’m talking separate individuals) that we’ve talked to know that what you did wasn’t okay. It wasn’t healthy. None of it was. And you have a lot of growing to do. I hope you do. Because if you don’t, and you keep throwing away friends like you did my brother, you are going to end up alone. No one wants “friends” that will abandon them the moment they voice that they are being hurt. Not mildly inconvenienced. Not a little irritated or vaguely confused. Hurt. The kind of hurt that panic attacks, breakdowns, and sheer terror causes. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be. In the meantime, you better not ever come near my brother again unless, like he mentioned when answering a different anon, you have a genuine apology, an explanation that isn’t bullshit and more manipulation, and are going to straighten up your act and work to gain back the trust that you highhandedly shattered because you refused to communicate and didn’t like being told that you were in the wrong. 

[sindrafalcone]

Train Dream (version 2)

Since #1 said that she’d like to read this, I decided to post it. <3 If you haven’t read about my initial string of Train Dreams, you might want to do that first to avoid confusion: Click Here

Again, I stopped having the dreams the night after Seung Hyun enlisted & they only picked back up the night of June 1st (after the ‘scandal’ broke). This was the one I had on the morning of the 7th, I had already suffered through my panic attack the night before, set an alarm so I could wake up for the press conference at 3am (my time), then I just decided to stay awake and get the kids ready for school. Once they were gone, I laid back down to try and make up for only getting 2-3 hours of fitful sleep. That’s when this happened.

I was staring down at a well-worn, wooden table. The rich, brown wood still had a polish on it, but it was pockmarked from obvious years of use. Somehow, between the color & the fact that it had withstood the test of time, it was comforting to me.

Then I noticed that in my right hand, I held a cup of coffee. The mug wasn't anything familiar, just a standard white color. But the coffee was made just the way I like it & I could feel the warmth of it in my hand... see the steam curling up off of it.

I looked over to my left & was surprised to see another hand firmly gripping mine. Not painfully tight, but not light either. I knew that hand...

My gaze snapped up to see Seung Hyun seated across from me, casually taking a sip from his own coffee mug.

“I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to notice me.” he said with a smile as he put the mug back down on the table.

It was only then that I heard the familiar click-clack of the rails, the slight swaying motion of the train.

“I... I wasn't expecting you to be here.” I told him truthfully, lifting the coffee to my lips & taking a hesitant sip. It was perfect.

After that, we said nothing... just sipped our coffee while holding hands. Oddly enough, the cup never seemed to run out and it stayed the exact perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold.

It took a while, but I finally realized that the train was slowing down. It wasn't long before it had come to a complete stop.

“We're here.” he said, letting go of my hand so he could stand up.

“What?” I asked, looking up so I could see him towering over me, the confusion obvious in my voice. “Where is here?”

“Come with me and find out.” he answered with a smirk.

He held a hand out to me to help me up out of the seat. I looked back down at the coffee cups, still curling steam even though we had been sipping at them for a while now. I noticed mine had a light pink lipstick stain on the side where my lips had been. It was oddly intimate, the sight of those two mugs of coffee just sitting on that little wooden table.

“They're not going anywhere.” he said, voice impatient as he tugged on my hand in order to get me to follow him. “Now come on!”

He pulled me all the way to the end of the empty train car until we reached the exit. Once we stepped off the train we were in a station of some sort. It was huge and incredibly Art Deco. All white stone walls, polished granite floors, and huge, floor to ceiling windows that let in the late afternoon sun.

To my surprise there were other people in the station, even though I had never seen any on the train. But, they didn't seem quite right to me. On further inspection, I realized that they were all wispy... translucent, even though they walked through the space as if they were solid.

Seung Hyun sensed that I was startled. “They aren't really here.” he said, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Well... they are here, obviously. But they don't realize it.”

He continued pulling me through the station, all the way to the front doors. He opened the door, leading me outside. At first, I had to shield my eyes because it was so bright and the sun was in my face. But as my eyes adjusted, I could see that we were alone now, surrounded by beautiful, lush scenery. There were mountains far off in the distance, but there were plenty of hills where we were. The grass & the plants were all a super intense shade of green & the flowers were well beyond vivid.

Briefly, I wondered why there was such a huge, modern train station in the middle of nowhere. But my brain kicked in, reminding me that this was a dream... it didn't have to make sense.

We walked down the steps that led out of the train station and across a huge green field, still hand in hand. Eventually, he led me up to the top of a very steep hill, with a single, huge oak tree. He let go of my hand again & sat down, his back against the thick tree trunk.

“Sit down.” he said softly, patting the grass in front of him.

There wasn't much else for me to do, so I sat down. The instant my butt touched the grass, his arms wrapped around me and pulled me back into him. I couldn't help but laugh & could feel the rumble of his chuckle against my back. After a few moments of just sitting there together, he awkwardly cleared his throat.

“So... um, I... I just realized that I've never even asked you what your name is.” he said, sheepishly.

“It's _________.” I told him. “But most people call me Sin.”

“Sin?” he asked, sounding surprised. I just nodded. “Hmmm... I think I like that.”

We sat there for a while, silently watching the sun set behind the mountains. The sun was gone, but there was still daylight left when he nudged me.

“Look.” he said, turning me so that I could see the bit of tree trunk beside him.

Carved into the bark of the oak tree was the cliche heart symbol, complete with the letters TOP + SIN on the inside. But on the outside, where there was usually a “4 Ever”, instead it was just the letters UW.

I reached out and slid shaking fingers over those two little letters, feeling the rough bark under my fingertips. I couldn't understand how it had gotten there... he obviously hadn't done it, he had been holding me the entire time. But again, my brain supplied, dreams don't have to make sense.

“Until Whenever.” Seung Hyun whispered in my ear.

“Until Whenever.” I tearfully whispered back.

He turned me back around, settling his arms around me once more. “You have to admit, it's beautiful here.” he said with a contented sigh.

“It is.” I agreed, looking out over the quickly darkening hills and valleys... out to the mountains where the last colors of pink and purple were slowly fading from the sky. “It's beautiful, Seung Hyun. But it's not real.”

He sighed again, a more defeated sound this time. “I know. I know it's not real... but it's calm here. Peaceful. There's no pain, no judgment, and no people.”

“I'm here.” I said with a huff. “I'm people.”

“Yes, but you're... different.” he leaned forward and placed a kiss to my left temple.  

“We can't stay here.”

“I don't want to go back.” he said with absolute certainty.

“Why not?”

“I don't like it.” he grumbled, like a toddler. “What's worth the pain of going back?”

I turned sideways again so I could look him in the eye. I reached up and cupped his cheeks in my hands, forcing him to look at me.

“Sweetheart... there's so many things worth going back for. The taste of a really good meal. The feel of fresh sheets on a warm summer's night. The sound of children's laughter. The...”

He held a finger up to my lips to shush me, a knowing smile on his face. “I get the idea.”

“Plus the warm feeling of drinking coffee with a really good friend.” I mumbled against him.

He laughed, and settled me back against him. “Are you a really good friend?”

“Well, I'd like to think so. That would at least explain the tree.” I mused. “Look at it this way... right now we're leaning up against something that symbolizes us... our relationship. The oak tree is a symbol of courage and power. Legend has it that it is the most powerful of all trees, it stands strong through all things.”

“Wow...” he teased. “You are really into this dream symbolism stuff, aren't you?”

I smacked his arm playfully. “I had hippie parents. Now hush.” I told him, smiling at his joke. “Just like you're leaning on us now, you can continue to do so even if we go back. I'll always be there. Our roots run deep, strong enough to weather any storm... as long as we're together. I've leaned on you enough for the past year, Tabi. Now it's time for you to lean on me.”

“Thank you, Sin.” his voice rumbled, kissing my temple again. “I appreciate it. But, at the end of the day, I'm still alone.”

I sighed heavily, he still didn't get it. “Oh, Seung Hyun... you're never alone. Look...”

I pointed upwards to the night sky where a few stars were beginning to flicker into existence. It started with a handful, maybe a dozen. Then more joined... and more... and as they grew in number, it was clear that they weren't white, like stars. They were yellow. Yellow against a black night sky. It didn't take long until it was obvious that there were millions of “stars” up there.

“Holy shit...” he breathed. “There's so many.”

I nodded. “We are very many. Not just in Korea, Seung Hyun. We cover the entire globe. No matter when it is, what time of day where you are... there is always someone, somewhere thinking of you, loving you and supporting you. You might not always be able to see us against the bright light of day... but I assure you, we're always there.”

He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Okay...”

“Okay?”

“I'll go back.”

“Good.” I smiled.

“But can we stay here for a little bit longer?” he sounded pitiful.

“Sure... we can stay here as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Sin.”

“No problem.” I squeezed his arm where he still held me tightly. “Just don't take too long. I want to get back to that coffee.”

His rich laughter vibrated against my back as the world around me faded and I slowly woke up.

And there it is, my weird Train Dream variation. I felt so much better after I woke up. I spent a lot of the rest of that day dredging up the details from my memory so that I could type it out & keep it forever. Now that I’ve shared it with you guys, I only have one request... Please Do Not Reblog This Post!!!

I don’t mind at all if you like it, or comment, or even ask me about it. Just, please don’t reblog it. It’s not one of my fics. It’s kinda personal. And although, I trust you guys with it, I don’t want someone else out there to make fun of it/me.

Oh, and if you’d like a good cry, here’s a song that reminds me of my train dreams. <3

Love, ~Sin

[elemental-nova]

Taking another break...

Personal details time:

Tumblr is my only social media.  I’m not on facebook or twitter or anything like that.  I mean, I’ve got a few accounts here and there across the internet on forums and fanfiction sites and places that I’ve forgotten, so it’s not like I’ve got zero digital trace, but I always avoided getting my own social media thing because I feel obligated to make it worthy.  For me, personally, I would only feel comfortable if I was a meaningful contributor, finding a balance between posting everything about my life without being inane while also participating in dialogues in constructive ways.  And I knew that I would not be able to do that.  I’d either become obsessed and become an annoyance, or I’d just never do anything and let the account stagnate, both of which would stress me out and make me feel like I was failing at an important job even though no one asked me to do it.  (I’m not calling anyone out or trying to make any sort of social media good-conduct rules, I’m just explaining that I know how my mind reacts to things I do).

I joined Tumblr because that’s where fans of things were, and I was making things that I thought fans would like.  I briefly got some attention, received a polite Cease-and-Desist that was actually pretty nonthreatening and gave me some insight into how intellectual property works and what I was doing wrong (thanks for being friendly, RoosterTeeth!), and started to explore a bit.  I made this blog to exercise my fanboyness.

But the problem with following people is it becomes an echo chamber and my blog became increasingly just a small sample of the things I like, repeated over and over.  And I was not very effective at finding fellow fans of some of my other favorite things.  I tried contributing original content, but didn’t have anything to really get attention so no one noticed me.  The one thing I was okay at was making friends and chatting with people, though.  And that’s honestly why I returned to Tumblr after my mission instead of just letting it fade away.

But lately it’s just been too much.  I see discussions that I want to add my own opinions to, but am held back by the fear of being dragged through the mud by people who know that clever insults and rhetoric prove a point better than detailed analysis, and who can make my ten paragraphs of factual background look stupid with ten words of callout.  I see art that looks amazing that I want to reblog, but then get overwhelmed by how much there is and end up reflexively ignoring all of it.  I have things I want to say, but would take way too many words (like this) or just be too out-of-context for anyone to care about, and I also know that as much as I want to, I wouldn’t be able to commit to continuing the dialogue.  And then there’s the backlog.  I’m sure people would advise me “dude, you don’t need to read every post.  Just start from today.” but I seem to be mentally incapable of ignoring someone’s post.  After all, they had a reason for making it, and even if it is two weeks old, I don’t want to ignore it!  It’s part of them!  And then there’s also life stresses.  Things are busy.  I’ve already figured out for me that this is a tempting outlet but a very unhealthy one for me personally, and it also is another responsibility that I don’t need.  To state it simply: there’s so much that I want to do that I end up doing nothing and then feeling bad about being pointless.

Right now the only thing keeping me here is my friends for whom I only have Tumblr for communication.  But I need to leave.  I may return when I finally have time to realistically start making games and books and need social pressure to keep me on my deadlines, or if I learn different coping skills to make it easier to handle the culture of reblogging.  Or maybe if I become famous enough to gain instant followers enough to have my voice be heard, so my out-of-context reactions to books will lead to an increase in their sales instead of an increase in audience confusion.  But for now, I’m taking a long break.

Sorry, Tumblr.  It has been fun.  You’ve given me good things.  Friends, a way to briefly show off my wrist computer, a way to use anxiety itself to give me power over anxiety-induced panic attacks, insight into memes, insight into how groups of humans interact with entertainment media, and other good stuff.  But I’m leaving now.  It’s not you, it’s me.  I just can’t do this anymore.