#i still get haunted by the one and only time i tried posting on deviantart

[clenastia]

self confidence is a skill that can be learned and you have to let yourself and your art exist distinct from how others perceive it. you will never exist or create in a way that nobody criticizes and that is NOT a bad thing. you obviously care a lot about your work or you wouldn't fret over it this much, but fixating so heavily on the potential opinions of people you made up to criticize you isn't healthy and isn't doing you any good. you're allowed to set that weight down and I truly believe you can do it.

I do try! when i catch myself spiralling i generally try to forcfully redirect my thoughts, even if it means completely ignoring whatever triggered it, but unfortunately sometimes i feel like im stuck in a loop because thinking of getting published triggers spirals of anxiety so i cant think too much about it which means i never get around to DOING it which makes me upset because i've always WANTED to get published, but when i try to seriously consider it i get all tangled up in the anxieties and ugh.

in all honesty i fell into the trap of thinking therapy would be a quicker fix than it is, where the therapist could give me a list of steps to do and my anxiety/issues would go away once i did them. so i put a bunch of unrealistic expectations on therapy but unfortunately there IS no magical list of steps to making your brain work right. you just. gotta wake up every day and push your way through the spirals and face the things you're afraid of. meds help, for sure, i don't get panic attacks anymore and the anxiety doesn't stress me out so much i end up crying or shutting down most of the time. but like. everything else, the solution is just: ignore it. keep trying. and there's no. fucking. steps to just. "do these three things and your brain will work like a neurotypical one!" and it fucking sucks and i hate it and i still gotta keep trying if i wanna get anywhere.

I haven't been on meds for a full year yet, and therapy less than that, so im sure with time I'll get to a place where i CAN push through those specific fears and get to where i want to be, and that in a lot of ways i'm still just rushing things and wishing i could be better NOW instead of having to put in months and years of work.

a lifetime of self-worth issues don't get resolved with pills and six months of therapy, but sometimes its just so GODDAMN unfair and i just want a magic cheat sheet to getting better :(

or maybe someone who can do like. literally everything for me so i don't have to face it myself lol.

can there be a business for that? like. be your own ghost writer. someone else gets all the credit and hate mail and deals with all the publishers. but you get to write your silly little stories and still make profit.

that'd be nice xD

totally ripe for abuse and probably actually a terrible idea but like. in an idealistic way. it'd be nice. y'know?

[destroyer-of-planets]

Okay, I have been wanting to make this post for a long time. Today is David Bowie's birthday, so I have decided to make a post about my experience as a fan. I am about to unload many things, including some dark things that I will now warn you about. With that being said, let's go.

Throughout my childhood, I believe I have seen Bowie related things that I didn't even know he made. From the song Fame to the character Lord Royal Highness, I was not aware of his existence, and significance.

Cut to late 2018. I was pretty into the band Queen at the time. I've been into them since the middle of 2017, but this post isn't about them so I won't mention them much in this post, but I don't love them any less. Still, they are somewhat significant to me as they were the gateway to Bowie. A parent of mine introduced me to him, and I thought his eyes were very cool. We ended up watching his music video for Lazarus, and it was very deep and even terrifying. I appreciated how strange his style was. I was told about how he sang a song with Queen, titled "Under Pressure". 4 months later, and I heard the song one day at school. I heard the part Cause love's such an old fashioned word and I fell in love with the song. It almost made me cry. I also happened to hear "Let's Dance" and I thought it was cool. I kind of embraced Bowie, but was not that interested in him at the time. 4 months after that, I tried to get into him but failed. I was weirded out by the Ziggy Stardust persona, as well as the Aladdin Sane persona, who had very strange and unique designs, almost like coulrophobia.

Now, in February 2020, things get interesting. I decided to get back into Queen since I missed looking at fan related content I looked at in the spring of 2019, so I looked at it again, and then I decided to create my own. I still was kind of fond of Bowie, so I decided to include him in my fanworks. I became curious as well. What was his music career like? What music did he make? What did he do all these years? I became interested in his fanworks as well, and decided to listen to a song. This song was "Five Years" and hoo boy. It was very wild. Needless to say, it was the first and probably only time I heard Bowie cry. It was haunting. It made me cry too, as I oddly felt sympathetic for him. I was interested completely, and a parent and I got a cd titled Best of Bowie. I fell in love with "Changes" and "Ashes to Ashes", and much more. Throughout the spring and summer of 2020, I listened to many songs from him. I also discovered many other personas, and they grew on me, and I finally wasn't weirded out and confused anymore. Of course, throughout all of this, I was confused about two of my favorite songs. Who was the starman in "Starman?" Ziggy or someone else? Who was that guy with the blue suit in the music video for "Life on Mars?"? Ziggy? The starman even? Bowie himself? Someone else? I never found the answer to these questions, but I still had fun regardless. Moving on…

I also uploaded art of Bowie's various characters on DeviantArt, and I had a fun time doing so. I have met wonderful people that were just as interested in him. I was also curious about Instagram in the fall of 2020, and decided to upload my art there. I met many wonderful people there too. Sadly, I got worn out by Instagram, and it caused me to be apathetic towards Bowie, so I took a break during the spring and summer of 2021. I tried to come back to it that fall, but I decided to abandon it and later delete it in the winter for personal reasons. I decided to just keep my board of him on my Pinterest, my art in DeviantArt, a Reddit post I made (although I try not to use Reddit regularly) and then my random commentaries on here. Since I have done so, I have felt much better and no longer have felt apathetic towards his work. So I'll get into it next month. That being said...

Let's rewind for a moment. Remember when I said that I was into Bowie in the summer of 2020? Something happened around that time that shook me. Because this situation is so sensitive, I am going to be extremely vague as possible as I do not want to make any mistakes here. I don't even remember how I discovered it, but I discovered a very dark article one day and it scared me. I have forgotten about it until March of 2021, and I had a long anxiety attack about it many days in the spring and summer of 2021, but I eventually got over it. After reading debunking posts and being reassured by my friends, I was once feeling better again. Now that I think about it, perhaps the reason why I ignored it the first time was because I read a few debunking posts but forgot about them and even forgot it was debunked.

So I say all of this to say this. I love David Bowie, and his music, and personas, and creativity. However, I am downtrodden by his death, as well as the false rumors. Please don't buy into the rumors, and this is a cautionary tale to be very very VERY careful of what you read online.

I am so sorry this happened to you, Bowie.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

And stay tuned for new posts.

Happy birthday Starman!!!

[yuri-n-love]

So, about real hopeless love...

Story time, everyone. Because I’m tormenting myself :’) 

Many moons ago when I was a wee lass in middle school, there was this girl. I can remember clearly the first time we started to talk, too. I always saw her on the bus and wanted to get to know her, for curiosity sake. I wanted friends and I saw her draw on the bus. I wanted to see more of her art too! She was so good! At the time, I had no clue what was in store for me, see... I had no clue I could even hold any special feelings for females. I just assumed I was a heterosexual female because I never felt anything much for females. One fateful day, she sat next to me on the bus. My anxiety was freeeeaaaking out because I really wanted to talk to her!! She was drawing and I finally worked up the courage to compliment her art. I don’t remember what she was drawing, but I still remember a little bit of what she was wearing, haha. I complimented her drawing and said she was really good... and from on then, we became friends!! I was so happy. I had made a friend that lived near me and we had a lot in common. We both liked Creepypasta and anime and spooky stuff... We really just clicked. It was great. We had made a little fort in the woods and I’d always walk to her house to hang out and we hung out a looooooot. One day at my house, we were sitting outside and she confessed to me. She confessed she had a crush on me... And I was so foolish. I regret how I responded to it now. It haunts me. I was dumbfounded and a little confused on how I should react. I loved spending time with her but I was straight! I don’t remember my exact words, but I just told her that I wasn’t interest in females. Time went on and we stayed really good friends... Some time later, we started doing some intimate things... I guess I was curious enough to figure out for myself what I could be interested in. I started feeling different things around her and we kissed, saw each other naked, and stared into each other’s eyes. I never once told her how I could feel about her. I didn’t even think I had any feelings for her at the time probably. Then some more time later and we got in trouble. We had planned to run away and do criminal like things along the way. We were found out. Our parents were furious and it split us apart. I hated it. I was so upset. I wanted to be with her so badly. I would do anything for her. We didn’t talk for a while, obviously. But maybe a couple years later or more, we started talking again in high school. I found her in high school and I couldn’t believe it!! I was so so so excited!! I wanted to talk to her again... I really wanted to hear her voice and laugh again. I knew someone in my art class who was her friend. I gradually started to talk to that person to figure out more about my old friend and figure out how I could meet her again. Then it happened... I met her again. I was so happy... absolutely happy. But things felt so different. I had become jealous. She and the other girl were really good friends, and it drove me craaaaazy! I remember feeling so miserable all by myself just because she was laughing and talking so casually with this other girl. I was frustrated and kept thinking to myself, “Don’t you like me???” Foolish. I was so foolish. We drifted apart again after some time... And I kept thinking about her. She opened my eyes to the fact that I was romantically and sexually drawn to girls as well. She showed me a part of myself that I never knew was there. I never did get into a relationship with another girl, though. I could only ever get guys. Every guy seemed to just be so into me and I wanted to find comfort in my life and yes it’s messed up to use a relationship for that but... I was scarred by a lot of things. Mentally not okay. So I kept getting into relationships with guys and they all ended horribly. But the worst thing on my end... is that I never stopped thinking about her. I realized I was in love with her. /Absolutely in love with her./ I’d tell these guys I loved them but it wasn’t love. I wasn’t in love with them. I just wanted the intimacy to make me feel better about life. But /oh my gosh/ was she on my mind!!! I would search her on Facebook again and again to look through her pictures... I missed her so so much. I felt miserable that I couldn’t talk to her. I wanted to so badly but... how could I? I was ruled by anxiety then. 100%. She had moved far away, I learned... I was so upset. I lost her. I lost her really bad. I cried about it. I really did. If only I had realized my feelings for her earlier. If only when she confessed to me, I had my head out of my ass and told her I liked her too and we could’ve started something. If only... If only... If only I wasn’t so stupid to who I was. Who I /truly/ was. I’ve always lived my life worried about what others think of me and what society thinks. What’s “normal.” Fuck that. I’m over that. I’m true to myself now. I know what I like and who I am. And if people say otherwise or put me down, fuck them. I’ll stand my ground because the only way to find happiness is to be true to yourself.

So I came over my anxiety... I messaged her a few or more days ago. At first I tried her Facebook... but the messages didn’t deliver. I was afraid I had lost her completely... I really felt I screwed up so bad. I really wanted to reach her. I looked at her art that she had on her Facebook and looked at the watermark on them. I was able to find her on DeviantART. I was so excited!! I saw she had previously posted art, she was active on the site! So I shot her a message on DA... at 4 am. I went to sleep grinning like an idiot haha. And that morning I woke up and got on DA, I saw I had a note. My heart stopped. I just... Holy shit. I was so excited. I clicked on it so fast and opened it and sure enough, it was a reply from her. I was so thrilled to see she messaged me back... I was able to get her new Facebook from her and I stated messaging her on that. I feel nervous about it though... So nervous. I type so much to her because I’m genuinely excited! And compared to her messages, I feel like mine are too much. I feel like I’m annoying and a nuisance. To type so much to her... And I tell her how much I /love/ her art and I really do... but what I also really /love/... I want to tell her so bad. But I can’t. That’s selfish. I learned I need to be selfish to be happy and be true to myself, but this time... I’m reverting back to my anxiety and I feel I have no right to love her. I feel I have no right to confess to her now. It’s be like... 4 years or so since we last talked. And I don’t know anything about her new life. What right do I have to suddenly just drop in and let her know I love her? I feel so awful about it. Even now... She literally just now messaged me back and all I want to do is tell her how much I feel. I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I do know I’m happy to talk to her again... Thank all of you who spent time to read this. Maybe I’ll be able to follow it up with something happy some day... maybe not. Only time will tell.

[emberprince]

Answer ALL of those in the ask meme you reblogged (or just cocoa if you're a coward)

oh you have no idea how badly I wanted to do this already I was just waiting for the opportunity... and you have given it to me you FOOL! now I have a reason to continue procrastinating on my homework

lantern - how did you meet your best friend? What were your first impressions of each other?

‣ I had just joined my first ‘good’ RP guild on World of Warcraft. She was sitting in the same building as me when my character was interviewed. I thought she was very cool but also very intimidating... I wanted to be friends with her but I was also an IDIOT and very new to roleplay so I kind of hope she remembers little of that time... We sort of fell out of contact for like 5 years but I followed her deviantart account and always added her art to my favorites because it was very CUTE and GOOD... anyway by sheer coincidence we ended up in a guild together again after many years and got to know each other more and now I think I would die if my best friend was anyone else

frost - if you could give some advice to your younger self, what would you say?

‣ man, high school doesnt matter. literally nothing matters as much as you think it does. it’s OKAY. stop caring what people think of you because it’s only going to give you depression and no one likes that. it’s okay. trust me. just chill. skip school once in a while

maple - is there a hobby / skill that you’ve always wanted to try but never did?

‣ I’ve always wanted to learn sign language... I’ve also wanted to learn like, blacksmithing or woodworking but I’ve never had the opportunity or tools to do so :(

harvest - what fictional character do you most identify with? Why?

‣ normally I would list one of my OCs but that’s cheating. I’d have to say Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter, she seems the most like me. I’d LIKE to identify as a cool protagonist but I don’t have the protagonist personality

fireside - if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like?

‣ cloaks and cool leather jackets and long flowing coats that make me look cool as FUCK. also dresses with pockets PLEASE I just want a semi-casual dress with functioning POCKETS PLEASE also I would love to have some nice boots and leggings that are a little thicker and don’t show as much as the flimsy ones. Coats/leggings/boots are just nice. I like shirts that are flowy and breathable, kind of like tunics

cider - a food that you disliked as a child but now enjoy?

‣ onions, mustard, peppers, broccoli, guacamole. basically no one ever cooked them for me when I was a kid then I grew up and realized that cooked vegetables are delicious as FUCK

amber - share an unpopular opinion that you may have.

‣ I’m really tired of seeing all the anti-cop posts. My dad is a wildlife law enforcement officer and one of the best people I know, and this whole new view on police has made his job a lot more dangerous. I understand that some cops are horrible people but the majority of them are really kind and unique individuals once you get to know them. Most of them dedicated their entire career to helping others, even if it means getting into dangerous situations. you can unfollow me for this if you want

fog - how well do you think you’d do in a zombie apocalypse scenario?

‣ I wouldn’t die instantly because I’d immediately run into the wilderness and hide instead of raiding stores where the outbreak is literally happening, but I’m not great at living off the land so I’d probably eat something poisonous and die of a disease or starvation a couple weeks later. If I somehow found a good food source or had something to hunt with I’d be alright.

jack-o-lantern - if you could look like any celebrity, who would you choose?

‣ jameela jamil...

spice - have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?

‣ no

orchard - share one thing that you’d like to happen this autumn.

‣ I’d like to pass all my classes and maybe get A’s and B’s... I’d also like to just be happy for a little while. Maybe get the hell out of my dorm but I don’t think that’s likely to happen. Most other years I’d say ‘fall in love’ but I really just am not ready for that right now. OH wait I’d like to receive 1 million dollars please

crow - which school subject do you wish you had an aptitude for?

‣ CHEMISTRY. holy shit

bonfire - describe your dream house.

‣ a few minutes outside a town with everything I need like a grocery store, hospital, etc. A BIG spacious house in the middle of the woods near a waterfall with a rustic cabin design. Pine forest, one big window in the living room so I can look out at the mountains and watch it snow in the winter. Lots of comfortable furniture, a sectional couch, a big kitchen so I can do a lot of cooking and a big bedroom with a king sized bed. A jacuzzi. One room is like a giant playroom for Zuko with lots of perches and toys and ropes so he can just have the time of his life. My large bedroom also has a nice window with a view of the mountains and a windowseat in front of it. The living room has an electric fireplace. I have a couple guest rooms so I can host people and the basement has a bar where we can have little get-togethers.

cinnamon - if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where?

‣ idk I kind of like the present. we have all these nice things we don’t normally have. I’d say like 10-20 years into the future maybe but I have no idea what the world is going to be like then sooo... maybe not. I wouldn’t want to live without the internet and running water and all the comforts I have now, though

cobweb - (if you’ve graduated) do you miss high school?

‣ I... miss parts of it. I miss the drama club in the high school I went to before I transferred. I had a lot of great memories there and sometimes I wish I could go back. And I miss the friends I made there that I don’t really talk to anymore. I don’t miss ANYTHING about the school I actually graduated from, that place was hellllllllllllll

cranberry - what’s one physical feature that you get complimented on?

‣ I think... hair? Usually when I get compliments it’s just general about my appearance but I think I’ve heard hair mentioned before

maize - share the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a stranger on the street.

‣ I haven’t really had street encounters since I don’t talk to anyone when I’m walking, but I have a few wild stories from when I worked at mcdonalds. One person came through the drive thru with 2 monkeys that tried to climb into the restaurant. Another person raved to me about how Google was taking over the world (they were right). Another person pulled up and I was about to hand them their food and the conversation went like this:

him: [grinning at me] you see the person in the line behind me?

me: yeah haha why? [hands him his food]

him: she looks like madam mim from the sword in the stone [laughs and drives away]

there are truly some cryptids out there.

quilt - how do you take your tea (or coffee)?

‣ I like iced tea in the summer and hot tea in the winter. With coffee, I prefer frappes in the summer and in the winter I drink a lot of mochas or regular coffee with just. so much creamer

pumpkin - do you think that humans are inherently good or bad?

‣ I think humans are inherently good, or at least neutral. We’re very social animals and for society to survive we have to be kind to one another so that we stick around, I think. Bad behavior seems to be learned.

moonlit - are you a neat or messy person? Is your room / house orderly?

‣ I am... neutral. I used to be VERY messy but now I’m mostly clean. My own area can get a little disorganized but I never encroach on anyone else’s space.

flannel - have you ever gone on a bad date?

‣ One. I met up with this guy and he talked about himself the entire time. Other dates have been pretty neutral, I wouldn’t say I’ve had many ‘good’ dates either.

cocoa - if you could have any type of hair, what colour and cut would you have?

‣ I used to want really long red anime hair, and I still kind of want that. I haven’t dyed my hair in a while because I want to see what my natural color looks like before I dye it again. Lately I’ve considered cutting it to shoulder-length but I think I probably won’t. I like red hair (dark red, not the natural red) but I’ve always REALLY wanted to try silver hair. If I couldn’t do silver, I’d do rose gold. For those colors I have to get it professionally dyed though, and I’m really cheap... so if I can’t walmart dye it, it’s gonna be a while until I get what I want.

ghost - is there someone that you miss having in your life?

‣ I guess my cat and bird are still in my life, but I can’t have them in my dorm, and that sucks. I miss a few of my old friends, but not that much because I have better friends now. It’s really weird not having my grandpa around anymore. He wasn’t a great person but I’ve never gone to a family gathering without him. I think that’s going to be weird to get used to. I wish I had a supportive significant other that I just click with but usually my luck is awful with relationships so I’m not going to try anything like that for a while.

[internethorrorfan]

Commentarypasta: A Meet I'll Never Forget (originally posted on Deviantart in 2017)

The creepypasta fandom is known being particularly cringeworthy. From all the terrible OCs out there to the lame music videos to the frankly pathetic film attempts to, of course, the fanfiction. So boils and ghouls, allow me to introduce you to something I like to call: Commentarypasta! In Commentarypasta I'll take a look at some of the worst stories the CP fandom has to offer in order to find one that's even remotely entertaining while I give my commentary on the . Most of them will come from Wattpad but this particular tale came to us from some site called Creepypasta.xyz. I've never heard of it either. Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story... A Meet I'll Never Forget by Meganthekillerforever. CHAPTER 1: I was sitting in my room reading Creepypastas online. I'm sorry, who are you? Could we get some establishing please? I love all of the Creepypasta stories, including Jeff, Slendy, Slenderman doesn't have an official creepypasta since he wasn't created for creepypasta.  Ticci Toby, and more. I was always bad at acting good. Spoilers: This fact is never mentioned again and has no relevance to anything at all. I hated my neighbors Why? For what reason? Who the hell are your neighbors and why should we care? We don't even know our protagonist's name and your telling us about her neighbors? and hoped Smile Dog would finish them off. You've never read Smile Dog have you? I was always sending a picture of him to them at night, but to my disappointment they called my parents the very next day. My parents didn’t care though, thank goodness for that, and my older brother just ignored me like most brothers do to their younger sisters. They didn’t care what I did. My father was a writer and my mom was an artist. My brother was already making plans to go to college. I'm sure all these things will be entirely relevant pieces of information that will pay off later in the story. One night I decided to go out into the woods to see if I could find Slenderman.( I know…childish right?) Well that was me always trying to prove that they were real. Now, time and time again I tried to see if Ben It's BEN. was real, but when I played Majora’s Mask nothing ever happened to me. That's because he only haunted (past tense) Jadusable's specific copy of Majora's Mask that he got from the Old Man. Jadusable put files from the cartridge into his computer allowing BEN to escape into it, and later Jadusable uploaded footage from the game onto Youtube which allowed BEN to escape into the internet. You must not have paid very close attention to these stories if you're getting all these things wrong. So, I figured that all the Creepypasta stories were fake. I still like to find out for myself though. As I went out the door, You were going out the door? Thanks for establishing that. Can we have some details to anything please? I called to my parents and told them I would be gone for a while. I heard my dad typing away on his typewriter and my mom getting extra paint from the storage closet. “Okay. Be back before breakfast.” “Okay Mom.” I rolled my eyes. We're a paragraph into this thing and I already want our main character to die. This doesn't bode well.

Since my mom is an artist, she always has some extra paint lying around. I grabbed some glow in the dark paint before I left and went outside. I gathered some rocks from the garden and a flashlight from the shed. I felt like someone was watching me, Thanks I thought we could use some more clichés. so I shone the flashlight in the darkest parts of the shed just to be sure. I grabbed the glow in the dark paint and started painting the rocks with it. When I was sure they were dry I gathered them in a bag and set off for the woods. Oh that's the pay off to her mom being an artist! So our still nameless protagonist could paint rocks with glow in the dark paint and light her lay through the woods. Or, you know, she could have only used the flashlight. As I made my way into the woods, I started setting down glow in the dark rocks. You've got a flashlight, you don't need the rocks.  I continued to explore until I found a large flat rock that I made into a resting place. I was getting tired. "I'm so exhausted from all the nothing I've been doing!" “I guess there’s no harm in resting for a few minutes.” Just go home. As I started to doze off, a rustling noise woke me up. I darted straight up and looked at my watch. “Oh no! I was planning on being home an hour ago! I lost track of time!” Which is why you should have just gone home instead of randomly taking a nap on a rock. The rustling continued as I started back on the path of rocks. I started to grow fearful as the rustling noise got louder and closer. I always keep a pocket knife with me at all times. Why? I pulled it out and turned around ready to confront whoever it was, but when I turned around I found none other than Slenderman himself. As I stared, I found that there was someone behind him, no two people. A man in a white hoodie and a man in a black hoodie wearing a blue mask. So Slenderman gets no description but Jeff and Eyeless Jack do? Consistency: it's not a polite suggestion. I had come face to face with Slendy, Quit calling him Slendy. Jeff, and Eyeless Jack! I was so shocked that I was at a loss for words. That's it? She doesn't shiver, shake, try to run away, use the knife to defend herself or anything? She's just at a loss for words?  Being at a loss for words is the reaction you get after reading fics like this, not after coming across several supposedly fictional monsters/killers. Finally after a while, Jeff spoke. “As you probably already know my name is Jeff, Jeff the Killer.” What person talks this way? "Oh hi my name is Martin, Martin the janitor. How are you?". I nodded, still not being able to say anything. “This here’s Slenderman and that’s Eyeless Jack.” I finally work up the nerve to speak. “W-what brings y-you to me?” That's your first response? Not asking "how are you real?" or better yet, running away in terror? This time Eyeless Jack speaks. “Well, we’ve been watching you for a while now.” Because....? “Why me?” Good question. “Slendy here thinks you’d make a good proxy. What has this girl possibly done to make Slenderman think she'd be a good proxy? Did she win him over with her amazing one of a kind ability to read horror stories on the internet? Me on the other hand thinks you look kinda weak. Jeff’s thinking the same thing.” “W-why would you want me? I’ve never killed anyone.” Every person that thinks creepypasta is just about killing people needs to be lobotomized. "Jeff spoke up. “Well, I guess that’s going to change tonight.” Jeff smiled wider than usual. As I just stood there dumbfounded Jeff started to lead me in a direction I knew well, back to my house. “You’re seriously not going to make me kill my family are you!?” No one's said anything remotely like that yet so unless nameless girl here can predict the future there's no way she could have known that they'll say that. Jeff started laughing. “You’ve read all of our stories haven’t you? How can creepypasta be a thing in this universe if all the popular creepypasta characters are real? They can't be fake and real at the same time. Well, in most of them our parents are either killed by us or something else. Spoilers: Jeff is the only character featured in this story that killed his parents. In order for you to become one of us, Creepypastas are stories not beings. Plus why do they want nameless protagonist to join them anyway? you have to get them outta the way.” Spoilers: Sally's in this story and Bloody Painter is mentioned. Both those characters have living parents. Is the author seriously under the impression that every creepypasta ever has dead parents in them? “And if I refuse?” “Well, now that you’ve seen us we’re probably going to kill you if you refuse.” Probably? “I-I’ll do it. WHAT?!? Are you kidding me? It takes that little to convince her to murder her family? Them saying they'd probably kill her instead? You wouldn't just straight up kill your parents with no second thoughts because someone said they'd kill you if you didn't. What about my brother?” “We kill him too of course! No witnesses.” He's not a witness if he doesn't see anything. I dread every step on the way back to my house. I enter the house silently, as to not alert them. I make my way into the kitchen and grab a steak knife. They're not around to see you do this. You could just warn them all and get the hell outta there. What happened to that knife you already had? My parents are usually in the study room working. I crept into the study hiding the knife behind my back. “Hey sweetie, back already?” "Hey sweetie, what is that knife shaped object you holding behind your back? You better not be trying to murder us again young lady!" I continued stepping closer gripping the knife hard behind my back. “Yep, I’m back.” Finally, when I was close enough to them I lunged at them with the knife and stabbed repeatedly. Because she'd definitely be able to do that with no effort at all. They twitched for a moment, but then they were still. I was wide eyed and gasping for breath when I finished. I heard clapping behind me. Jeff was standing there. “Very well done. Slendy didn’t even have to get into your mind like he did Toby.” “That…actually felt good. Yeah, let's do what the creepypasta fandom does best: glorify the murder of innocent people! What, you're not going to tell us about the "rush" you get from killing or how fun and exciting it is? What about my brother?” “I took care of him. I haven’t killed in a whole day and I was itching to kill someone.” I just watched my parent’s lifeless bodies for a while before Slenderman came to get me. This character has shown no previous signs of sociopathic personality disorder, psychopathy, psychosis, or any other mental disorder that might possibly make her Ok with killing people.  She shouldn't be so nonchalant about everything. Since he didn’t have a face he didn’t talk much. I don't even need to point out why this line is moronic do I? Slenderman beckoned for me to follow. I followed him outside where Jeff and Eyeless Jack were waiting. “Well kid, welcome to the family.” CHAPTER 2: After I killed my family, After that minor insignificant easily forgotten event of stabbing my parents to death with a steak knife. Slendy teleported us to what looked like an old, run down mansion. I stared in disbelief at the beautiful mansion. The last sentence said it was old and run down. Now it's beautiful? OK then. “I thought the mansion was just a legend!” Jeff started speaking. “Nope, it’s real kid.” They led me into the mansion where the other pastas were waiting. What other pastas? You gonna tell us who they are? They all looked at me and stared. I started to get nervous with all the attention on me. A boy I knew to be Ben BEN's a statue in a video game, not a "boy". started asking questions. “Who’s that? Why have you brought a human here? Jeff is human. So are Bloody Painter, Hoodie and Masky, all of whom are mentioned later in the story (spoilers like you care at all). Does she like games?” Will this fandom ever realize Pasta Monsters is not an accurate representation of who BEN is? Seriously. Eyeless Jack interrupted his questions. “This is a new edition to the family. If you have any questions about her, ask her yourself.” They started crowding around me with questions. Because you're just so likable and interesting that of course these people would bombard you with questions the first second they lay eyes upon you. Thanks a lot EJ. I’m not the type of person who loves crowds. Your whole family was just murdered, two of them by your own hand, and a minute later you're in a mansion in the woods with a bunch of monsters, serial killers, supernatural beings and other horror characters you previously thought to be fictional. Stop acting like this is completely normal. “SIT DOWN AND RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU HAVE A QUESTION!” I was screaming at the top of my lungs. They all sat back down and raised their hands hesitantly. Because again, you're just so likable and interesting that they have no choice but to listen to someone they've never met before. “Ben.” “Do you like games?” “I love games Ben.” “How do you know my name?” I had forgotten to tell them that I’ve read all of their stories and seen pictures of them online. “Oh yeah. I forgot to mention that I’ve read all of your stories.” Ha ha no you haven't. They were very surprised. To learn that people have written stories about them. I'd be surprised. Sally spoke up. “All of them?” I thought she was cute. It was hard to imagine an 8 year old girl as a killer. That's because she's not a killer. Good God people it takes five minutes to search up her old ref sheet with all her info on it. But to save anyone the trouble here it is: Sally - Official Profile. “Yes Sally, even yours.” I smiled at her. She smiled back at me. Because of course Sally and our protagonist instantly get attached to one another and become inseperable best friends/family figures to each other. How else are we going to lazily boost our protagonist's ego and get the reader to like her? “Yes, Offenderman.” Offenderman didn't say anything. Also why is a rapist part of the quote unquote "family"? Especially with Sally around. Offenderman smirked and pulled out a rose. “Would you like a rose?” He extended it out to me. “Nope.” “But, why!?” “Because like I just said, I’ve read all of your stories. I know what happens when you give a rose to someone.” Offenderman frowned and mumbled under his breath. The others laughed. “ The sex offender doesn't get to rape anyone today! So funny! Betcha Sally really got a kick outta that one! Okay who’s next?” “Ooh me! Me!” Jeff practically yelled. How does one "practically" yell something? I laughed at his persistence. “Yes, Jeff.” “Do you like knives? And what is your opinion on killing?” Not every creepypasta OC is a killer or needs to kill. Nobody died in Ben Drowned and there was never any danger of anyone dying. At least not from BEN physically killing them. “If I had to choose a weapon, I would definitely choose a knife. My second choice would be a pistol. As for killing, I don’t really mind it, especially when they deserve it.” Oh piss off. The only people you've killed are your parents who you only killed because this story is lazy and stupid. You are in absolutely no position whatsoever to be giving an opinon on murder or what your preferred weapons are. Hoodie seemed to be satisfied that my second option would be a pistol. You're dead Brian. “LJ.” LJ laughed and stood up. “Do you like candy?” I should have known that was coming. No you shouldn't have because Laughing Jack is capable of thinking about things that aren't candy. “Yes LJ, I love candy.” “Would you like some candy?” “No thank you. Polite pass.” LJ looked kind of hurt when I declined, but he tried to hide it with a smile. I felt bad for declining it, but I still didn’t fully trust them yet. I wanted to get to know them first before I accepted anything from them. You murdered your own parents in cold blood to join them. You don't get to be weary around them. I must have zoned out, Thinking about what? How uneventful everything is? because Jeff was waving his hand in front of my face trying to get my attention. “Hello? Anyone in there?” Oh! I’m sorry. I guess I just spaced out.” EJ decided that was enough questions. “Alright, I think that’s enough questions for today.” I was getting very tired. I yawned loudly and rubbed my eyes. Everyone turned to look at me. Everyone was wondering where I would sleep. Why does anyone care? Sally spoke up with excitement in her voice. Much like us, Sally knows absolutely nothing at all about our main character so she has no reason to give a damn about her at all. Sally's an attention seeking prankster who gets jealous easily and cries and throws tantrums every time she doesn't get her way. She'd be one of the people most against a new person, not most for. “She can sleep in my room! I have an extra bed in there.” Because as we all know, ghosts need to sleep. All the others agreed. Masky Hey Tim how's it goin'? Still not a creepypasta character? Sounds great. spoke up this time. “Yeah, just until we get a room fixed up for her.”  Because Mary Sue sure does deserve a room all to herself. Why doesn't she share a room with Sally permanently? “Thank you Sally. I’m very grateful.” I was relieved somewhat, because I didn’t want to be rude. I still didn’t trust them yet. You already said that. I followed Sally to her room. Her door was decorated with bloody pink flowers. When we got inside the room, I saw that her walls were a pale pink with blood splatters. Because an 8 year old girl who likes stuffed animals, tea parties, cute things and stereotypical "girly" stuff would obviously decorate their room with blood splatters. You still sure you've read all their stories, miss Thekillerforever? Plus blood smells. Hanging on her walls were many drawn pictures of the Creepypasta family. WHAT CREEPYPASTA FAMILY?!? You've told us nothing about this supposed "family" or what characters are a part of it! We know Masky, Hoodie, Slenderman, Jeff, EJ, LJ, Sally, BEN, and Offenderman but that's because you just plopped them into this story with no set up at all! We don't know who's part of the family! Quit acting like we do! And where is Toby? This story's referenced him twice now and he hasn't shown up! She was a very good artist for an 8 year old. “You’re a very good artist. Those pictures are amazing!” I don't think many 8 year olds are"very good" artists. But this is a crepypasta fanfiction so Sally has to be portrayed as an absolutely perfect flawless shining paragon of humanity that always gets what she wants and is instantly loved by every life form on Earth because she's just so "cute". Our main character's already a Sue, we don't need you to change other people's characters into Sues too. Sally smiled at my words. “Thank you. I’m not as good as Bloody Painter Because she would obviously refer to Helen by his serial killer alias instead of his actual real name. though. He’s the best artist here. Here’s the bed you will be sleeping on. Why does Sally even have one bed, let alone two? I’m so happy to have someone sleeping in my room with me! The only one who comes over sometimes is Lazari.” Who I'm sure this author know nothing about. Given the track record so far I wouldn't be surprised if the author thought 8 year old Lazari murdered innocent people with knives for the lolz. I feel bad for Sally. It must get so lonely in here by herself. Out of these retarded Slender Mansion stories, THIS is the one that figures out a little kid living in a gigantic mansion with almost exclusively grown men would get lonely? “After my room is finished I could sleep over sometimes.” You're sleeping in her room now. What are you talking about? Sally smiled and looked at me with hope in her eyes. “Really?” YOU JUST MET THIS PERSON, YOU SHOULD NOT BE THIS ATTACHED! “Really.” “And will you play with me?” I smiled warmly at her. “Absolutely.” YOU JUST MET THIS PERSON SO YOU SHOULDN'T BE THIS ATTACHED EITHER! And if you two are this attached already, why not just share the room permanently? She jumped up and down with excitement. Can ghosts jump? “Yay! I can’t wait!” “Would you like me to tuck you in and read you a story Sally?” No she wouldn't like you to tuck her in because she's a ghost and ghosts can't sleep. Who said she wanted to go to bed anyway? “Yes please! I would like to listen to a story about your family if you don’t mind.” "You know, that family you murdered an hour ago with no remorse or guilt whatsoever?" “It’s fine. "I've already completely forgotten about stabbing them to death, almost like it was pointless or something!" I’ll tell you about the time we got a puppy.” Sally eagerly got into her bed. Which she probably doesn't need since she has no physical body. “I love puppies! They’re so cute.” This chapter started off with the line "after I killed my family". “One day I was sitting in my room playing with my dolls How old were you when this happened? Scratch that, how old are you now? and my parents were excited about something. I walked out of my room to my parents’ room You could have just said "I walked to my parent's room." because you already said you were in your room, we can tell that you walked out through context clues.  to see what they were talking about. When I asked them, they both shouted that we were getting a puppy. I was so happy I ran around the house squealing with excitement. My parents would have straight up told me I wasn't getting anything if I kept running around the house squealing. My parents decided to let me pick the dog. I ran into the pet store checking out all of the dogs. I set my sights on the cutest chocolate brown puppy with short floppy ears. He had the most beautiful brown eyes. And he was just as sweet as can be. This is a fanfiction based off creepypasta, a genre of internet horror stories frequently about madness, tradgedy and the terrors of the unknown, and the second chapter is concluding...with our main character telling bedtime stories about cute puppies to a little girl. Wow. We decided from that day, to call him Brownie.” Where's Brownie now? Given the level of intelligence you've displayed in this I wouldn't be surprised if you ate him thinking he was an actual brownie. When I finished my story, That wasn't about your family at all. I looked over to find Sally fast asleep. I ask this question a lot regarding fanfictions with Sally in them but does this author even know Sally is a ghost? Or does she somehow think ghosts can sleep? If these stories ever offered an explanation as to how Sally can do these things that'd be fine. But they never do so it doesn't make any sense. I chuckled and got into my own bed. I had one last thought as I fell asleep, ‘I wonder what tomorrow will bring.’ Nothing because this story was deleted by the author. Thank God. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Well that was dull and uneventful. This story's only two chapters long but those two chapters are some of the most boring things I've ever read in my life. Pretty much nothing at all happened in them other than our bland unnamed protagonist murdering her family for pretty much no reason, but that's almost immediately glossed over and swept under the rug to get to more pressing matters like telling bedtime stories about cute puppies. Our main character is such an obvious self insert Mary Sue and she doesn't even get the luxury of a name let alone a personality. The closest thing I got out of her character was stupidity but that's only because the writing was so botched it made her look like an airhead who was completely unaffected by everything around her. "A Meet I'll Never Forget" feels like it was written by a 10 year old due to the almost complete lack of detail to anything. As of this writing the story's been deleted so this is the only place to find it. So with this story out of the way join me next time for...something less boring and forgettable.

[the-sapphire-general]

Sonic the Hedgehog: My Thoughts on the Series and Fandom

As you may already know, I'm a fan of Sonic the Hedgehog. I have been a longtime fan ever since 2003, and I still am a fan today. Over the years, I have encountered thousands of content online regarding Sonic, a lot of them coming from the fandom. It's been years, and I feel like it's time for me to speak up about how I feel about the Sonic series, how it affected me, what I think about the fandom in general, etc. This will be a lengthy post because I will cover my years of being a Sonic fan and all my thoughts, feelings, and opinions.

The first thing I will begin with is my history with the franchise. Now I have dealt with a lot of bullying as a child, and despite pretending that everything was okay, it wasn't. It was difficult going to school and not get bullied by those jerks, but then I found out about Sonic. I first got introduced to him when I saw a commercial for the upcoming show, Sonic X. So I watched it on that Saturday, and I instantly liked him. Who wouldn't? He's kind, adventurous, confident, and he stands up for what he believes in, and those are all the things I strived to become myself. And I'm still doing so to this day. Sonic taught me to stick with my passions, be good to others, and not look at things in a negative light (it's still a struggle but I improved massively). Shortly after I began to watch Sonic X, I bought my first Sonic game, Sonic Adventure 2 Battle. And I had a blast! Sure, a lot of people now call the game overrated and not as great, but I don't think so. It holds a place in my heart. Sonic the Hedgehog himself became my hero and idol, and he gave me hope in life and myself. I developed a crush on him as well that's still going strong, and he just makes me happy. I may have trouble trying to be more like Sonic, but you can blame the bullying that followed after I became a fan. So bullying has happened to everyone (if there's anyone who was never bullied, you are extremely lucky lol), and I wish to explain my experience. Apparently, in elementary school, I was bullied mainly for liking Sonic. Some mocked me for it, others found it stupid, and my friends that I had at the time showed their true colors and betrayed my trust by telling me to stop liking Sonic. Why? I honestly have no idea. It hurt to be told that I shouldn't like Sonic. What, did they want me to like what they liked, which was going boy-crazy, shopping, mocking others, gossiping about everything, and basically bossing others around? No thank you. Yes, I like men, but I'm not obsessed with shopping, I don't judge others or gossip about them, and I don't boss people around by telling them they can't like whatever it is they like. Instead of letting this affect how I feel about Sonic, I just cut those people out of my life and moved on once I moved to a new place, so I started to attend another school. The bullying continued, only this time it was merciless. "Sonic sucks!" is what I usually got from those morons, and as much as I wanted to ignore them, it was hard. People treated my interest in the Sonic franchise as a joke, and some even dared to say that Shadow is better than Sonic in such a rude and taunting manner that was annoying. Dude, Shadow isn't my idol.. Shove off. As much as I strived to be more like Sonic, it was difficult. Thanks to people like them, I'm pretty much broken. They caused enough damage to make me insecure, worrisome, and not as similar to Sonic. Again, Sonic helped me maintain a positive outlook as much as possible. If it weren't for him, I would probably be a worse person than I actually was on DeviantArt. I would have been so messed up because of the bullying. In fact, if I had never gotten to know Sonic, I wouldn't have a Sonic fan character of my own. Now I didn't wish to say this since it's been years ago, but...I used to be a terrible person on a website known as DeviantArt. When I first signed up, I was a horrible writer, and I had a mary-sue/recolor Sonic fan character. Her name was Sonica. I'm not kidding. She was basically a mary-sue that was just a genderbent Sonic with high heels and breasts. Back then I did not accept people's constructive criticism whenever I got it, and I was just plain horrible, not just regaring my crappy "character" but on other things that are common with Sonic fanbrats. To sum this up, I was just like all the Sonic fanbrats you may know. Whether or not the infamous ones I've heard of have changed like I did, I have no idea. I don't keep track of those guys. People may have assumed I would never change, but I began to improve as I got older. It wasn't easy doing so after developing a bad reputation, but with help from a few close friends that stayed by my side, I became the person that I am today. Now I still struggle with constructive criticism, but I can handle it way better than before and I do my best to not take it personally. What about Sonica? Well, first off, her name is now Sorina. Second, she received several designs, but here she is in her new design.

Isn't she cute? I don't draw much, but I had fun drawing Sorina. She came a long way, not just me, and I adore her. She's my baby! She's not the only one I have, though. I haven't drawn all of them because I have a lot of characters, and I'm not an amazing artist. I'm good though if I managed to capture Sorina well. Today, seeing all those mary-sues and recolors is disappointing, and it makes me wonder if those people will improve. Unfortunately some may never will. It's not difficult to create an original Sonic character or improve a terrible character. I improved a lot over the years, and so did my character. And so did my writing and creativity! Although I do admit I am still haunted by my past. More on that later.

Now I will discuss the Sonic fandom. Every fandom has their...toxic side, so to speak. I'm well aware of it, and it's just sad. Besides people making mary-sue/recolor/unoriginal Sonic characters, there are loads of creepers. Believe me, I've looked up some of them. I couldn't believe my eyes, but it was all there. I'm tempted to say some names, but to be honest, some are old news, and I don't know how they are doing today. However, I can express my thoughts on these types of people. Aside from reminding me of my past self, they are just annoying and/or disturbing. Now I am not going to attack any of them, especially those that are the most notorious. Just wanted to say that because I'm not one to talk shit about people just for the sake of it and I honestly don't care to discuss them in full detail. Those I have heard of did make me cringe. Christian Weston Chandler, Akai Dalia, Princess Elizabeth, and PaulandAmy. These are just a handful of these guys in the Sonic community, and I do agree that these guys, along with so many others, give the Sonic fandom a bad name. One is an autistic man that never got the help he needed to deal with his disability and has done...questionable and disturbing things.. Another is a person with weird sexual fantasies that wound up making Sonic incredibly OOC and just plain creepy, which did not go well with me. However, I've heard she has changed, but I don't know if it's true. Moving on. The third person is a teenager with serious anger issues and has caused trouble on DA during my absence (thank goodness I was though). And PaulandAmy.............Ummmm, he went to prison for raping little girls......Enough said. Okay, I get it. I really do. There's a lot of crazy people in the Sonic fandom, plus annoying fanbrats and strange people, which turned the fandom into a twisted kind of place. And because I was one of those people before, it does make me uncomfortable. So I made myself scarce in the Sonic community because of the fandom, my own past, my insecurities, and because of what I have dealt with a few years ago. I remained in hiding in the Sephiroth community. I wanted to run away from my past for fear that someone would recognize me and use my past as an excuse to hate me and to just throw it back in my face as if I'm still that person. Well I'm not that person. I haven't been that person in years, and I will never be that person ever again. To those I have hurt back then, whatever crap I have written, said, and done, I'm sorry. :( I really am. I know I wasn't pleasant to be around with and I was a terrible person. I hurt people and I lost friends, but I've changed thanks to those who stayed by my side. My new DA account and my Tumblr blog are proof. Sorina is proof. Don't you think there are Sonic fans who can change like I did? Not all of them will change, but that doesn't mean none of them will. There's a lot of great, kind, caring, fun, and sane Sonic fans in the fandom if you look past the toxic side of it. Every fandom has its toxic side, you know. It's best to just avoid those types of people or else trouble will arise. I'll give an example. I talked to a fan of the Sonic community long ago. I thought he was cool because he did manage to change from how he used to be, but I will not mention his name. We did start to hit it off, but what turned me away was his claims that Sonic the Hedgehog is a selfish douchebag who cares about nobody and tried to murder Amy or something like that. It was stupid. His logic did not make sense and it annoyed me because I love Sonic (no shit lol). It almost made me angry that he would think such a thing, but instead of causing a fight, I just walked away. I didn't want to waste my time and have him say things about Sonic that I knew weren't true. Arguing wouldn't have done anything, and if you were talking to a fanbrat, you would know that. So it's best to just walk away from those types of people in the fandom.. They'll only cause trouble or try to provoke you, and we would rather not cause drama. And sadly, DeviantArt is a website that has become known for drama.

In addition to the fandom...I don't understand their opinions regarding the Sonic franchise. People say Sonic has lost his charm when he made his way to 3D. People claim he should go back to his Classic ways. Well SEGA made Sonic 4, but even that wasn't enough to satisfy them. People don't think any of his recent games are good. Uhhhh, really?? I happen to like and own the recent games. And what has always bugged me is how people bash on Sonic games whenever SEGA tries to be innovative. I mean, Mario has added new things into the series and nobody complains! Why can't Sonic be allowed to add more to his games?? I understand people have their own opinions, but a lot of them are ridiculous and contradictory. Seriously, Sonic 4 was the answer to those who like the Classic games, but that wasn't enough. What gives?? You got what you wanted. Even more so with Sonic Mania! Maybe I'm a bit unbiased because I like Sonic, so I try to defend the series. You can have your own opinions, but don't shove them in my face and believe I will blindly agree with you.

As for the Archie comics, they were cancelled recently, but I never read them. I did look up some stuff about them, and they kept me away from them. I heard Sonic was OOC, which is something you obviously know I can't stand, and because of people saying they weren't well-written often. And there's Sonally. I don't like anyone paired with Sonic (canon-wise considering that I pair Sonic with my character Sorina), and to me, the pairing was just unhealthy.. It made me hate Sally Acorn, not just because of Sonic, but because she wasn't right for him. They were far too different, and even I wouldn't date someone similar to Sally. Hey, just because I'm a Sonic fan doesn't mean I like everything. I don't like the Archie comics, I don't like the Sonic Boom games, and I refuse to read Sonic the Comic. You're probably thinking I'm missing one more thing, and I know what it is...Sonic '06. Ay ay ay, Sonic '06. Well, this might be an unpopular opinion, but I like it.. I own the game. I got it for about ten dollars, and I didn't mind playing it. The story was not what I expected, and it was rather dark for a Sonic game, but I didn't mind. The only criticisms I have is the ranking system and the struggles in trying to get S ranks. lol The glitches can be an obstacle, but I did enjoy the one where I can make Sonic, while on top of a box, rise higher and higher in the air. XD Also I like Silver the Hedgehog. Yes, I like him because I like hedgehogs and his powers are cool and fun to use. I'm not one to hate every single new Sonic character for no reason. The only characters I despise in all Sonic media are Mephiles, Princess Elise, Sally Acorn, and Geoffrey St. John. The comics may have had others that I would dislike as well, but again I never read them and since they ended, there's no need. I haven't watched all the Sonic cartoons, but I did watch some AOSTH episodes, and I dislike Breezy. And there's the shipping wars. Now I did say I dislike any pairings involving Sonic, but that doesn't mean I will bash others for liking these pairings, just as long as they don't shove them down my throat. I used to be obsessive about my hatred for SonAmy, but as I've matured, I don't give a damn if others like SonAmy or Sonally or whatever pairing of Sonic. I'm still anti-SonAmy, but I have a friend on DA who is pro-SonAmy. It's fine. We all have our preferences. I don't like any pairings with Sonic, but others do, so why fight? I hate Sally for obvious reasons, and at least I'm being honest. Also, Amy wasn't mentioned on my little list of characters I hate. Well, I've grown fond of her. I still loathe her love for Sonic, but it doesn't mean I hate Amy herself. I don't care what pairings you like. If they make you happy, then it's all good. I like some (that don't involve Sonic) like KnuxRouge, Tailream, ChrisXHelen, and JetWave. I honestly don't have a lot of Sonic-related pairings I support. lol The Sonic series in my opinion hasn't been doing that bad after the 90's. I grew up playing the modern games, and I enjoy them. There's nothing wrong with being innovative in the new games. It can't always be like the Classic games. The fandom is a very, very mixed bag, but there's plenty of good people in the community if you just look hard enough and there are original, creative fan characters too. I'm one of them and Sorina is one of the characters. :) Sonic got me into gaming more than I was before, and he helped me through tough times, so he means a lot to me. He's the reason why I got into writing, and despite my terrible start, I have improved. I realize I shouldn't hide because of my past experiences, and I should be a proud a Sonic fan. If others don't like it and say I shouldn't like Sonic, well too bad. They can't tell me what I can and can't like. I'll always be a Sonic fan, and if it weren't for him and my friends, I wouldn't be the person that I am today. I will go on a bit of a tangent, but it is still linked to Sonic. A few years ago, back in high school, I finally gained relief from all the bullying I endured regarding Sonic. I felt like I could breathe and be free to like whatever I want, and even more so when I met and fell in love with the one man that has the same passion for Sonic as I do. Sonic is what connected us in the first place, and we later started to get to know each other. Turns out he is a lot like Sonic, which is what got me interested in him, but in time, I got to know him other than just his Sonic-like traits. I loved him even more, and he makes me feel wonderful. Just when I thought the pain was over for good at the time, someone else came along and screwed me over just as I started to heal. I will not say her name because just the idea of typing her name causes me to feel intense hate. We started off as friends and like how my boyfriend and I hit it off from the start with the Sonic series, she and I hit it off with Black Butler, an anime/manga series I love but...well, I'll explain shortly. We got along real well, we talked a lot, and I just felt so happy to have a new friend, possibly my best friend...but then she just changed. I don't know why, but she did. She went from a friendly, outgoing girl with a great sense of humor to a heartless bitch who only wanted to hurt me and others emotionally, and she could have harmed me physically when I witnessed her punching her boyfriend at the time. I wouldn't consider my boyfriend's friend her boyfriend exactly. Again, I'll explain shortly. I almost dared to call her out on what she did but someone else did it for me. I couldn't hear the conversation from a distance, but that became a hint for me. However, she never punched anyone afterwards, but we fought several times. Why? Well, from what I recall, the arguments were petty and idiotic, and she accused me of things that weren't even true. Heck, she even gave me the silent treatment. For NO good reason!! I tried talking to her and confront her over why she was acting like this towards me for I was her main target. I never got an answer. Never. And before she moved away sometime in the Spring, she flat-out told me that I was a horrible person, and that I could never be like....guess. Sonic the Hedgehog. That broke my heart. She did other countless terrible things to me like manipulating me into being her "little puppet", tried to change me with help from her stupid lackey of a friend who was so loyal to the bitch that I had nobody on my side. Worse, she dated my boyfriend, who was a crush at the time, behind my back!! And she knew I liked him! She knew!! Also, when we argued over stupid things, I was always the one to blame! Always! Yet I did nothing wrong to her or anyone!!I never even said anything bad to her! But Sonic...Her acting like I can never be like my idol just because she "believed I was a horrible person" really hurt. It also didn't help that she found my interest in the series as ridiculous. So I cut off contact with her. I didn't leave a text or something. She was just gone. I was done. I hated her, and I'll always hate her, but I'll try to not let this hate take over my life or my sanity. Guys, if you meet someone and they behave in a way similar to this, don't be friends with them. They are toxic, cruel, manipulative, heartless assholes who do nothing but hurt others. I don't know why this tramp hurt me. I'll never know. But what I do know is everything she said about me are lies. None of the things she said to me are true. And guess what? We had a conversation on Facebook last year. A friend of mine, who unfortunately is online friends with her, told me that she was sick. Now he told me that it was curable, and being the compassionate person that I am, I decided to message her. I wished for her to feel better. She said thanks...and she knew who I was even though I changed my username and icon. I asked if she remembered me because of how she implied it. And she replied in such a sarcastic manner about my love for Sonic and Black Butler as if those interests were bad. I was beyond furious, but I had to be the bigger person. I would have given her a piece of my mind and told her everything she had made me feel all those years ago, and call her every single name in the book, but no. Instead, I told her to get well soon and to have a good life. Then I blocked her. I thought she had changed after all this time, but no. She didn't. She lost her chance to make amends with me. I don't know why she treated me like dirt, but to be honest, I don't freaking care. She has problems with me liking Sonic or Black Butler or whatever? Fine. It just proves she's a heartless bitch who won't make any friends with that kind of attitude. I can like whatever I want. And fun fact: She's had multiple boyfriends over the years, more boyfriends than she should. I checked her Facebook account before permanently blocking her. I sensed she was a whore. It was then confirmed by a friend. What is also strange is when it came to Sonic, I only mentioned him once to her. I wasn't ready to confess my crush on him or how big of a fan I am because I wasn't sure if I should tell her, but she somehow found out about my crush. I don't know how! I never expressed it in front of her, but our final conversation did confirm she disapproved of it. That, and she disapproved of me being a Sonic fan in general. What I'm trying to say with this little short story is she, and so many others, have bullied me because I like Sonic, making me feel bad for liking the games and the character specifically, whether as a role model or a crush. This is a big reason why I made myself scarce in the Sonic community. I remained in hiding for a while, and when I was introduced to Sephiroth from Final Fantasy 7, I hid in the Sephiroth community. The bullying, everything that happened in DeviantArt, my fake friend, they all made me hide for a long time. And you know what? I don't want to hide anymore. I'm a loyal Sonic fan, and if others don't like it. make fun of me for it, or hate me for it, well that's their problem. They don't have the right to make me feel bad for being myself. Sonic has helped me through tough times, and inspired me to never give up. I'm not giving up on any of the things I love. That also includes Black Butler. I made myself distant from the series because of my fake friend, but that will change. I apologize if the last bit went to a different direction, but it felt right to mention it for it was related to Sonic. I revealed my personal opinions on Sonic and the fandom, plus my own experiences associated with being a fan, and I want to let everyone know that I am a Sonic fan and I am proud, and I am sick of hiding from the Sonic community. If others don't like you for being a fan, don't let them discourage you. You are allowed to like whatever you want and be yourself. I'm one of the kind and sane Sonic fans than you can trust, and there are many others like me as well. Well, that's all. I'll see you guys later!

[im-coming-to-you-live]

SpongeBob- Greying Gracefully

Yeah I keep forgetting I have a tumblr. Hey, this exists.

Greying Gracefully Summary: SpongeBob finds a grey hair and begins to worry about his premature aging. Rated: T for Teen; 13+ Characters: Squidward, SpongeBob, Sandy, Patrick, Mr. Krabs, Pearl, Gary Pairing(s): None Genre: Coming of age/ Friendship Word Count: 6, 058 Fic belongs to me.

SpongeBob Musical belongs to Kyle Jarrow (who wrote the book).

SpongeBob © Nickelodeon.

[X-posted from deviantART]

It was supposed to be the quintessential ‘’best day ever’’, like it was every morning. The sun was shining, and the hills were alive with the sound of music. Nothing could possibly ruin this most perfect of perfect days, that is, until SpongeBob spotted a lone grey hair, interloping among his platinum-colored tresses. His first instinct was not to panic. ‘Okay,’ he told himself, ‘No biggie. It’s only one. And hey, silver’s a pretty color, maybe no one will notice since my hair’s so light anyway,’ but when he went to go pluck it, he found another, and yet another, silver wisps upon silver wisps. He felt the color drain from his face, just as the color had from his hair. He tried to remain optimistic, but wasn’t he a little too young to be going grey? Now, at the age of 25, a few grey strands multiplied to what seemed like nearly a hundred, silently taunting him when he looked in the mirror as if to say, “You’re getting old. You’re getting old. You’re getting old.” He had never been one to fear the future. Rather, he looked forward to it. He looked forward to the day he would turn Squidward’s age and look wise and distinguished with all those lines chiseled into his face like the rocky mountains Sandy often spoke of after her trip to New Mexico last summer. Plus, Squidward’s grey scalp looked becoming to his natural sea-green locks. It reminded SpongeBob of fluffy clouds floating over the ocean surface. He looked forward to the day he would turn Mr. Krabs’s age and still look physically fit, with hardly a wrinkle albeit attractive smile lines, and a load full of pepper and salt chest hair. Yes, the older men in his life made him feel excited to grow old. ‘’To grow old,’’ he once remarked to their wrinkled noses, ‘’Would be an awfully big adventure.’’

‘’You have no idea, kid,’’ they both told him, but SpongeBob had to laugh. To his eyes, they both aged gracefully. But then again, he had never known them to be young. He remembered sauntering into Mr. Krabs’s office one day, only to find it empty. Instead, he found an old-fashioned picture frame stuffed into one of the desk drawers, face down. SpongeBob didn’t mean to pry but curiosity got the best of him, and so he lifted the picture frame from its hiding place and wiped away the dust which coated the glass with his sweater. He didn’t immediately recognize the young man in the black and white photo—handsome, with a strong resemblance to Mr. Krabs. It couldn’t have been, could it? SpongeBob remembered removing the photo from its frame and flipping it to the backside, but there was no date. It must have been taken around 1960-something. 1964  or '65 was his wild guess. Mr. Krabs was pictured in a Navy uniform, with inky black hair and a darker complexion than he sported now. He looked almost exotic, like Egyptian. For some reason, it was eerie and haunting. The man who went off to war would never return the same man he left.  Mr. Krabs never talked about it, but SpongeBob heard stories about what kind of man he was when he came home... Pearl’s grandmother had said she didn’t even recognize her own son. But Mr. Krabs seemed happy here, and so unaware of what was to come. The soldier smiled back at him as if he knew of his innocence. He seemed both eager for its loss and nostalgic for those few years of naiveté behind him. Deeper in the drawer, SpongeBob uncovered yet another photograph, this time of Mr. Krabs in full service dress, with his name tag centered on the right breast pocket. He wasn’t smiling in this one. Most soldiers wanted to escape the draft, probably the reason for him not following the rules (his cap was off, and his left hand was in his pocket, a rakish disregard for the regulation that a soldier in war could never, ever stick a hand in his pocket ).  The hand in the pocket was almost a silent rebellion. The pockets that were empty in the photograph would soon bulge with hand grenades, extra ammunition, food, and many of the gross of condoms they were issued before a combat jump. SpongeBob held these photos side-by-side to compare them. One soldier was happy. The other was not. They almost looked like two different people. But they were both Mr. Krabs, taken in a moment of time, months apart. Is this why he had locked them away? Could he not come to terms with his own aging that began in his mere twenties? And then there was Squidward. SpongeBob had visited his neighbor’s Eastern Island home one day only to find him hiding secrets, too. He had a library under the stairs—not nearly as impressive as SpongeBob’s but the porifera couldn’t resist—and when SpongeBob intruded when Squidward wasn’t looking, he found what appeared to be a high school year book on one of the shelves. ‘’Farlingaye High’’ it said on the cover. Inside, he found quite a few surprises. One Polaroid depicted Squidward entering his amateur piece into the school art show—he proudly held it up: a little painting of Neptune-knows-what. His mum stood beside him, beaming at her little artist son. Between her hands, she held his cheap plastic briefcase that carried all his books. It wasn’t a proper grown-up briefcase that a few of the brain-box nerds had inherited from their dads. Squidward had ‘’graffitied’’ his up a bit—but come to think of it, it was still pretty geeky. Squidward looked no different than he did now, except of course he didn’t have crow’s feet, and so SpongeBob couldn’t possibly mistake the identity. He was still tall and lanky, only this time with prominent buckteeth, bespectacled, spotty, and wore braces. He was nerdy but still charming. Actually, he kind of looked like SpongeBob. But something else was different about him. He looked genuinely happy, with the excited look of a child at Christmas in his eyes, an expression of innocent glee that SpongeBob had never seen in the older Squidward. The next Polaroid, with a stain in the right corner, depicted Squidward in a class photo, wearing a blue cardigan that his mother had probably knitted for him, and a shaggy Brady Bunch haircut that was popular at the time. Again, he looked happy. But then in his graduation photo, wearing his honorary cap and gown, his diploma in his hands, he had the all-too familiar stern look he had now. And he was only 18. What happened? ‘’ I hated German,’’ he remembered Squidward saying as he came into the library to find SpongeBob crouched over his yearbook. SpongeBob hurriedly tried to close the book and return it to its proper place, but Squidward didn’t seem to mind so much. He came up beside him and pointed at his young self and said, ‘’It was’t the subject, it was the incredibly dull, dull, dull teacher. I was always getting shouted at and sent out of the class for messing around. I was always mortified having to take that walk of shame to the door. I was such a loser. Y’know, I got picked on all the time.’’ ‘’Is that why you look so unhappy here?’’ SpongeBob asked. ‘’Yes,’’ Squidward admitted sadly, before realizing his error, and snapped, ‘’I mean no! I was itching to be done with school because, by about 13, I knew I wanted to go off to performing arts college, but I could barely afford it. Looking back, high school only lasted a few years! I should have relaxed and tried to enjoy and get more out of it.’’ And with that, he closed the book and shooed SpongeBob out of the library. He was never allowed to bring up Squidward’s high school days ever again. As SpongeBob studied his grey hairs in the bathroom mirror, he wondered what he would look like in twenty years, fifty. Seeing how rapidly Squidward and Mr. Krabs aged in their youth, when they were supposed to be in the prime of their life, he wondered what he would look like in only a few months from now. Would he forget how to smile? Would he be frowning on his 26th birthday? Was it possible to grow old before he reached 30? He didn’t mind getting old, it was inevitable, but he didn’t want to get old now. He sighed, and walking out of the bathroom, he found Gary sprawled out on his side on the bed, completely content. ‘’Gary, can I ask you an honest question?’’ The snail rustled, looking annoyed that he had been disturbed from his nap. When he finally focused his eyes on SpongeBob, he said, ‘’Do you think I look…old?’’ Gary took one look at him and replied with a sarcastic, ‘’Meow.’’ SpongeBob frowned. ‘’Gee, thanks. You’re a real pal.’’                                                                               *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ‘’ I’m only 25! I found my first grey hair and I might be going bald.’’ SpongeBob complained as Squidward sat him down in a chair. ‘’Congratulations, you’re turning into me,’’ Squidward grumbled. ‘’You lost your hair at my age?’’ SpongeBob gasped. Squidward continued to stare at SpongeBob, not amused, then pointed to his hair, which, despite a receding hairline, he mostly still had. ‘’Gracious me, now where did all my hair go?’’ ‘’Did you check between your legs? That’s where most of my hair is.’’ Squidward slapped his forehead at such disbelief. ‘’You’re such a twit.’’ The boy shrugged. ‘’I dunno. I thought maybe it was a toupee.’’ ‘’Then yank on it.’’ SpongeBob did, reaching out to grab fist fulls of Squidward’s hair to see if it was really attached to his scalp, and it must have been, because he yelped, ‘’Ouch, not so hard, you prat!’’ and he shoved SpongeBob away. Yup, it was definitely real. And soft. Synthetic hair wouldn’t be that soft.   ‘’This is awful!’’ SpongeBob began to cry into his hands. ‘’Am I gonna be all white before thirty, Squidward?’’ ‘’Mellow fucking out, SpongeBob,’’ Squidward snapped. ‘’You’re still young. You have your whole life before you.’’ ‘’Before me?’’ he wailed. ‘’No, all is over for me! I’m dying!’’ Squidward rolled his eyes. ‘’I didn’t think you were so vain. Hey, is this the same guy who said growing old would be fun?’’ ‘’Yeah, but…I’m not old. I mean, I didn’t expect to be turning grey until twenty years from now,’’ SpongeBob said, wiping his eyes on his shirt. ‘’Exactly. You’re not old. Look, sometimes you get a few grey hairs here and there, doesn’t mean you’re aging.’’ ‘’Then what’s happening to me?’’ ‘’There’s nothing wrong with you…Well, alright, there’s a million things wrong with you but a grey hair or two is the least of your problems. You’re freaking out over nothing.’’ Squidward approached him, and then with a comb in tow, he parted SpongeBob’s blonde tresses to inspect the so-called ‘’damage’’. After a few moments of brushing through SpongeBob’s hair, he shook his head and said, ‘’Oh yes, this looks very bad.’’ SpongeBob felt his heart sink. ‘’How bad?’’ ‘’Very very. More serious than I thought. Tsk tsk. There’s a few more back here you didn’t catch. You poor ol’ chap. I suppose your entire head will be all white before thirty.’’ SpongeBob clutched his chest and moaned in fright at such dreadful news. But then he heard Squidward laughing. ‘’What’s so funny?’’ he demanded through the tears welling in his eyes. ‘’I’m just messing with you!’’ Squidward chuckled. ‘’Aside from a few grey strands, your head looks completely fine. Blonde as ever. And you’re not going bald, you have enough hair to make a wig for a grape!’’ SpongeBob stood from his chair and punched Squidward in the chest. He didn’t appreciate the sarcasm, not now in a time like this when he really needed his help. ‘’Oh c’mon, SpongeBob, it was a joke!’’ Squidward tried to reason, but SpongeBob wasn’t having it. ‘’If you’re not going to help me, I’ll find someone who will,’’ SpongeBob proclaimed as he made his way to the door. ‘’Can’t you see I’m ailing? You know what, Squid, you’re so full of—‘’ ‘’Alright!’’ Squidward cut him off. ‘’No need to get nasty. I’ll just cut the greys, and give you some coloring if you want. It’s what I use.’’ This didn’t ease SpongeBob’s worries. ‘’I’m going to have to color my own hair?’’ ‘’Look, it’s not going to turn grey overnight. Those few follicles that lost their pigment won’t affect the surrounding hairs. At most, those are the only grey hairs you’ll have for awhile. As you get older, it’ll get more grey. You’ll most likely still be blonde at thirty. It’s a gradual change, SpongeBob. You get used to it.’’ ‘’Were you greying at my age?’’ Squidward sighed. ‘’Younger than you, actually. In my late teens. You’re lucky. At least you’re almost thirty, in five years. For me, it was over by thirty. It runs in the family. My cousin’s been coloring her hair since she was twenty-two. I used to wonder what propelled my mother to keep her hair dark brown at sixty, when it long ago decided it wanted to be white at twenty-eight. But I’m just as guilty as her now. Truth is, it has very little to do with fear of aging and a lot more to do with an unwillingness to look and, some might say, act my age. I’m one of those people frequently mistaken for someone much younger, and I admit I like it. So sue me.’’ SpongeBob looked at Squidward’s glorious head of hair and couldn’t blame him. Aside from sporting a white skunk stripe down the middle, you couldn’t even tell he had been coloring his hair all these years, nor could you tell he was grey under all that natural looking turquoise. He didn’t even look old, even if he had kept his hair grey. SpongeBob came back to his chair and let Squidward cut out the grey hairs before the older man sent him home with hair dye and pre-shampoo conditioner to keep the coarse, wiry grey hairs moisturized and smooth when they grew back. SpongeBob was grateful to Squidward, but at the same time, he didn’t know if he was ready to start all the daily hair treatments of his 45-year-old neighbor. ‘Well,’ he thought, trying to cheer himself up, ‘I always did think we were something like brothers, but this isn’t quite what I had in mind.’ He began to fear the worst: What if he checked into a retirement home the same day as Squidward, while his younger looking, more vital friends—with their beautiful, un-grey hair—had to pay him burdensome visits? If people remarked that Squidward looked exceptionally young for his age, he wondered if he would begin to look too old for his age. Time for a second opinion.                                                                                  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ‘’Did I ever find a grey hair?’’ Patrick echoed the question as he tread into the kitchen for another grape soda. SpongeBob followed behind him, waiting for an answer. After Patrick opened a soda and handed it to SpongeBob he said, ‘’Nope, can’t say I ever had. But if I ever found a green hair, well, that’s a different story.’’ He opened another soda, took a sip, then continued, ‘’I tried to dye my hair blue once. It turned green for some reason. Or was it lilac? Actually, what is lilac? Is that, like, yellow?’’ ‘’Purple,’’ SpongeBob explained. ‘’Lilac’s purple, Patrick.’’ ‘’Purple Patrick, maybe that was it. Hey, I didn’t know there was a color named after me!’’ In spite of himself, SpongeBob had to laugh. Patrick always found a way to cheer him up. ‘’Yeah, no, about my question…so like, never ever?’’ ‘’What was the question again?’’ ‘’If you ever found a grey hair?’’ ‘’If you ever found a grey hair?’ ‘’No, you.’’ ‘’Got it.’’ And Patrick took another lengthy chug from his soda, nearly emptying it. SpongeBob waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. He seemed to have forgotten what they were even talking about. ‘’Patrick?’’ ‘’Yeah?’’ ‘’Well?’’ ‘’What?’’ ‘’Did you?’’ ‘’Did I what?’’ ‘’Find a grey hair?’’ He blinked, registering the question for a moment, then he suddenly seemed to comprehend. ‘’Oh right. No, I don’t think so.’’ ‘’Positive?’’ ‘’Affirmative. I mean, you can look if you want. Don’t think you’ll find anything.’’ With that, he bowed his head as low as possible, but SpongeBob still couldn’t reach so he grabbed a nearby chair and stood on top of it. But Patrick was right. As he sifted through his cotton-candy quiff, he didn’t see one hint of a silver strand. It was all beautifully bubble gum pink. SpongeBob felt a little jealous. Patrick was 28, and he hadn’t a single sign of greying anytime soon. He would probably still have pink hair at Mr. Krabs’s age. He sighed, and hopped off the chair. Patrick noticed his sour mood and asked, ‘’What’s wrong? It’s lice, isn’t it?’’ ‘’Huh? No, your hair looks fine. Great, actually.’’ ‘’Then what is it?’’ He rubbed his arm, and said, ‘’I...found a few grey hairs this morning.’’ ‘’Seriously? But you’re like, a baby!’’ Patrick joked. But SpongeBob wasn’t laughing. ‘’I’m serious.’’ ‘’Don’t worry about it, buddy. Sandy will know what to do,’’ he said, patting SpongeBob on the back. Sandy, of course. Why didn’t he think of it before? With that, he stood on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on Patrick’s forehead, but he couldn’t reach, so he kissed him on the cheek instead. ‘’Patrick, you’re a genius!’’ And he rushed to the door, but not fast enough in time, for he could hear Patrick angrily remarking as he left, ‘’What did I say?! Just ‘cause you’re turning old, don’t take it out on me! I was just trying to help! You know what, SpongeBob? Screw you! You’re a genius, and it’s showing too!‘’                                                                              *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ‘’Stress, genetics, B-12 deficiency…a lot of reasons people turn grey in their twenties,’’ Sandy explained. ‘’ When your body stops producing melanin, a pigment found in the hair follicle, your hair goes grey. Another factor that may contribute to grey hair is the buildup of hydrogen peroxide in the hair. As you grow older, the enzyme catalase that breaks down hydrogen peroxide diminishes. This leaves your hair bleached by hydrogen peroxide. But here’s what not to do: don’t pluck it. You’ll just go bald from all that trauma to your scalp. Use non-ammonia based color. All those chemicals ain’t healthy. Nutritionally focus on protein at breakfast and lunch—available energy to hair tissue is lowest in the morning, did you know that?--, keep hydrated and choose healthy snacks like yogurt, nuts and fruits. You can do all this, SpongeBob, but everyone’s different. You might be going prematurely grey and there’s nothing you can do about it. All you can do is accept yourself and move on.’’ ‘’Squidward said it’s a slow change, is that true?’’ ‘’He’s right, I reckon,’’ she nodded. ‘’Why? Did he share with you a ‘going grey’ story?’’ SpongeBob just chewed his bottom lip, which caused Sandy to burst out in a hearty laugh. ‘’Hah! I knew he colored his hair!’’ ‘’Is that bad?’’ ‘’Nah,’’ she snorted. ‘’Half the population probably does. Y’know, I just thought of something funnier than all that.’’ ‘’What?’’ ‘’ Caucasians begin to grey in their mid-30’s, Asians in their late 30’s and African Americans in their 40’s, according to a 2011 research analysis published in The Dermatologist. On average, 50 percent of the population will have 50 percent grey hair by the age of 50. Gender seems to play a role as well: Men start greying closer to 30, while women begin to notice grey hairs around 35. So don’t worry about it. Even if you turn grey sooner than all’s the rest of us, give us five more years, and we’ll be greying together.’’ With that, she slapped her knee. She thought it was a riot, but SpongeBob failed to see the humor in all this. ‘’Patrick’s a little older than me, and he hasn’t found his first silvery strand yet,’’ SpongeBob admitted sadly. ‘’Everybody’s different,’’ she shrugged. ‘’But if you’re worried about your mortality, your hair’s got nothing to do with it. You’ll live long, still. You’re a sponge, for crying out loud.’’                                                                               *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * He hoped Sandy was right, but as he left her Treedome, he wondered if he would ever be able to accept himself someday with a head full of grey or white hair. Would he be like Squidward’s mother, and continue to color his hair well into his sixties? It was a ridiculous thought, having blonde hair at that age. But as he bumped into Mr. Krabs on his way to the Krusty Krab, he realized maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous. Mr. Krabs was about 70, he realized, and he sported bright red hair. But then SpongeBob suddenly recalled the old photograph of Mr. Krabs in his navy uniform, and though the picture wasn’t in color, his hair looked too dark back then to be red, or even a burnt auburn. Did he…? ‘’Boyo, didn’t see ya there!’’ Mr. Krabs bellowed. ‘’Hey, Mr. Krabs,’’ he solemnly smiled. ‘’Say, can I ask you something?’’ Mr. Krabs narrowed his eyes into slits and scrutinized SpongeBob like a fly on the wall. ‘’If you’re asking me permission to take out me darlin’, beautiful daughter, a teenager, mind, on a date—‘’ ‘’What? No, Mr. Krabs, I—‘’ But the expression on the retired vet’s face quickly changed into a friendly smile, and he rustled SpongeBob’s hair with his meaty claw to show he meant well. ‘’I’m just joshin’, lad, relax! Should’ve seen the look on yer face! Got ya, didn’t I?’’ and he chuckled his familiar sailor’s laugh. ‘’Yeah. Heh. You got me,’’ SpongeBob tried to laugh along. ‘’Look, Mr. Krabs, I just—‘’ But Mr. Krabs wasn’t listening. He got that look in his eyes that he often did when he thought of a brilliant business venture. SpongeBob knew it all too well, because he titled his head back and rubbed his chin in deep thought. ‘’Come to think of it, that’s not a half bad idea. Could get Pearly outta me hair for a few hours. That is, if ya don’t mind.’’ ‘’Sure, whatever, but—‘’ ‘’She’s been drivin’ me crazy, that kid! Y’know how much the phone bill was this month? Calling and texting! I swear, she’s as bad as her grandmother, she’s got that phone growing right outta her ear! I caught her talkin’ to some friend at two in the mornin’! Two! What’s with kids these days?’’ ‘’It’s a mystery,’’ SpongeBob agreed. ‘’Look, can I ask you—‘’ But Mr. Krabs cut him off again. ‘’She’s eatin’ me outta house and home! I can’t wait till she finds a nice man to settle down with and move out. Well, truth be told it breaks me heart to think of it. You try to hold them as long as you can, but then a day comes when they don’t want to be around you no more. SpongeBob, never have children. You’ll live longer. I’ve been going grey since the day she was born.’’ ‘’That’s what I want to ask you about.’’ Mr. Krabs suddenly snapped his head towards SpongeBob as a dark look crossed him. ‘’You’re poppin’ me the question, ain’t ya, laddy?’’ ‘’Huh? What are you even talking about?’’ Mr. Krabs slung a strong arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. ‘’You’re a nice kid, SpongeBob. I’ve always thought of you as the son I never had. But I don’t know if you’re right for Pearl. No offense. So before you ask, I just have to say one thing: you’re already part of the family, and if you think marrying me daughter is going to get you that promotion, then think again. Because family or no family, you’re just not manager material!’’ SpongeBob blinked, and then shook his head. ‘’It’s not about Pearl.’’ Instead of growing relieved, this seemed to anger Mr. Krabs even more. ‘’What? Now you’re saying you’re too good for me daughter?’’ ‘’No, Pearl’s fine, it’s just—‘’ ‘’Just fine, eh?’’ ‘’She’s great, okay?’’ ‘’She’s pretty, right? Prettiest in all the seven seas?’’ ‘’Yes, absolutely!’’ ‘’So you do fancy her?!’’ Finally, SpongeBob had to push against the crab’s chest to knock some sense into him. ‘’Mr. Krabs, will you just listen to me!?’’ ‘’You’re not poppin’ the question?’’ ‘’No.’’ ‘’What is it, kiddo?’’ Mr. Krabs inquired, finally calming down. ‘’Well, you see…you dye your hair, right?’’ Mr. Krabs suddenly looked self-aware and his claws went instinctively to his head. ‘’What makes you say that?’’ ‘’Well…don’t get mad at me…but a long time ago, I saw this picture in your desk…’’ ‘’Oh, that one. Well, the cat was bound to come outta the bag sooner or later.’’ ‘’So…you went grey after the war?’’ SpongeBob asked. ‘’It was a few years after the war, actually, but yes, eventually I greyed at fifty.’’ ‘’That’s normal, isn’t it?’’ ‘’Sure, but I didn’t want me old Navy buddies to see how much I aged. And so I tried to find a dye that matched me natural color, with no luck. Me hair, SpongeBob, was a dark oak brown back in the day. Hard to believe, no? At least I wasn’t balding, but me friends still had dark hair at me age and I felt ashamed. So I holed up on a small Greek island, hoping that I’d be able to find au nat-ur-al hair color. Turns out that the only Greek colorings available were all unnatural hues of red.’’ ‘’Didn’t your friends say anything?’’ ‘’Nah. Me new red hair blended in with me claws so much, they forgot how dark I used to be. Why’re you asking me all this anyhow?’’ ‘’Oh,’’ SpongeBob smiled, ‘’No reason.’’ Mr. Krabs wasn’t so sure he believed him, but decided not to ask any more questions. ‘’So you’re picking up me daughter at eight and bringing her back no later than 9:30.’’ It wasn’t a request, it was a command. ‘’Take her somewhere fun, and make sure she throws out that damn shell phone!’’                                                                                *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * Maybe it was common for forty-somethings to dye their hair, and though he didn’t mind coloring well into Squidward’s age, he didn’t know if he could keep that up until his seventies. If Mr. Krabs was still dyeing his hair at his age, SpongeBob wondered if he would ever be able to escape. When do you stop? He was reminded of a dinner party a few months ago, when he, Patrick and Squidward decided to have a date, only for Squidward to crash the party. He kept complaining about how lonely and depressed he was, and when SpongeBob asked him why, his response was, ‘’Have you ever had to bury your own mother at 24?’’ He deeply sighed and lamented how he wished he knew how to die. SpongeBob and Patrick of course dismissed such talk, as this wasn’t unusual for Squidward, but his words haunted SpongeBob in that very moment. Squidward didn’t know how to stop what had been started. That’s kind of how SpongeBob felt now about obsessing over his greying hair. No one tells you how—or when—you’re supposed to stop. Intellectually, he knew there would  be a day when he would no longer color his hair. But how do you know when that day is? Will it be when his children go off to college? After his youngest child’s wedding? At the birth of his first grandchild? Or would he be the little old man in the nursing home who, with his last dying breath, demanded that the hair colorist be brought in for a final touchup? He shivered at the thought. And here he always regarded the two men he looked up to the most, Squidward and Mr. Krabs, as having aged gracefully. But they were as obsessed with their own mortality and vanity as SpongeBob was now at 25. He didn’t want to be like that forever, especially not at their age. All that stress would cause him to grey faster. And so as he went to pick up Pearl that night from the Krabs’ residence, he knew a teenage girl may be his last hope. Squidward and Mr. Krabs’s ‘’going grey’’ stories only made him feel ridiculous. A young man such as himself shouldn’t be trying to make himself look younger as though he were 45 or 70, going through a pre-existential crisis. Patrick’s grey-free locks—at 28—only made him feel envious. And Sandy’s cut and dry briefing didn’t help much either. He didn’t need lectures or experiences to help him through this. He just needed to let loose. He was about to knock on the door when it opened for him, and there stood Pearl in the doorway looking stunning as ever. Her dark hair, which was usually elaborately coiffed at the side of her head, was now pulled back into a bun with a pink bow to tie it in place. She wore an off-the-shoulder sweater over a sundress, plum in color, her long skirt ruffling in the light breeze. A silver bracelet danced on her wrist as she raised her arm to greet him. It matched her gold lipstick. As she looked into his eyes and gave him an innocent, childish smile suitable for a six-year-old, especially with that beauty mark at the top corner of her lip, all the breath left his body. ‘’Hi, SpongeBob,’’ she said. ‘’Um, hi.’’ He was surprised he could still speak. Pearl was just a kid, but she was growing up fast. Mr. Krabs suddenly interrupted them, appearing behind his daughter. ‘’Remember, have her back no later than 9:30, or I’ll make sure you never grill a single Krabby Patty for the rest of yer miserable life.’’ ‘’Daddy, stop embarrassing me,’’ Pearl teased, and kissed him on the nose before she stepped out onto the porch. SpongeBob suddenly felt underdressed in his blazer and khakis. He wasn’t even wearing dress shoes. ‘’Make sure she has the best time of her life or yer fired!’’ Mr. Krabs exclaimed before closing the door.     ‘’He doesn’t mean it. You know he’ll never fire you,’’ she reassured him. ‘’I know,’’ he said. ‘’Um, I don’t drive, so we have to walk…if that’s alright. Or we can take the city bus.’’ ‘’Walking’s fine. It’s nice tonight, huh?’’ and she stepped off the porch, waiting for him to follow. ‘’Say, I’m going for my boating license soon. If I get mine before the next date, we can take a drive down at the beach.’’ Next date? He hoped she didn’t think they were going steady, or was only using him to impress her friends because she had a 25-year-old ‘’boyfriend’’. He hoped she knew this was just a favor for her father, although he liked her well enough, but truthfully, she was just too young. Once they got to ground level, SpongeBob realized she wasn’t wearing her usual platform sneakers, but instead, she was wearing flats, perhaps in an attempt to make him feel taller and less awkward. ‘’So where’re taking me?’’ she asked, as she fished for her shell phone in her purse and began to text someone. He eyed her, hoping she wouldn’t be more interested in the phone than in him through the course of the night. ‘’Sssh,’’ she said, putting a finger to her lips when she noticed his look, ‘’Daddy tried to hide my phone but that’s why I always keep a spare. If he finds out I have this, I’m grounded until I graduate college.’’ SpongeBob shrugged. ‘’I won’t tell if you won’t.’’ She laughed. ‘’I always thought you were weird, but you’re kinda cool, SpongeBob.’’ He laughed too, and for the first time all day, he forgot about his dilemma. He looked at Pearl again, in her Maybelline cat eye, and avant-garde chandelier earrings, and wondered if she would ever worry about aging. She didn’t seem to worry about anything. Even though most teenagers never thought too far down the road—he knew at Pearl’s age, he didn’t; he never thought he would ever get old—she didn’t seem the type to develop a keen appreciation of head scarves to hide eventual hair loss, and who would learn the lesson of never traveling without an emergency box of hair color. ‘’Hey, Pearl—‘’ She closed her phone and excitedly remarked, ‘’So I just texted my friend and she said there’s this swanky new joint in town, some new Tiki bar that just opened up! Wanna go?’’ ‘’You’re not the legal drinking age,’’ he pointed out. ‘’I’ll get in trouble if—‘’ ‘’I won’t tell if you won’t,’’ she shrugged. She grabbed him by the hand and they walked towards the direction of the bar. ‘’So, SpongeBob, you were going to ask me something?’’ ‘’Um, yeah. I just…see…it’s complicated…’’ he stopped in his tracks, and when she tried to pull him, he wouldn’t budge. ‘’Who died?’’ she asked. ‘’My hair.’’ ‘’Your hair?’’ ‘’I found a grey hair this morning.’’ She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘’Rough. Hey, aren’t you only 25?’’ ‘’Yeah.’’ She approached him and, with a mischievous grin, she lightly poked his chest. ‘’Oh c’mon, you’re SpongeBob, you’re, like, supposed to be the happiest dude in Bikini Bottom! Do you think one little grey hair is gonna get him down?’’ SpongeBob looked at her, trying to smile, but it pained him to do so. ‘’I’m not always as happy as everyone thinks. I was like you yesterday. So full of life. Now I know how Squidward feels. Someday, it’s all over.’’ ‘’Nothing lasts forever,’’ Pearl said. ‘’If it did, they’d make permanent lipstick that didn’t fade throughout the day, am I right? But you don’t see me crying about it. That’s what the powder room’s for.’’ ‘’Yeah, I guess you’re right.’’ ‘’Let me tell you a story.’’ He sighed. ‘’I think I’ve heard enough today.’’ ‘’No, just listen. See, when I was a little girl I used to love playing with my grandma’s hair. It was pure white, like snow. I thought it was so pretty. I asked her, ‘Grandma, when I’m your age, will I have long flowing white hair someday?’ I wanted to know how the world saw her and how she saw herself. I also asked why she decided to stop coloring her hair and was shocked to hear that she never colored in the first place. That generally leads to mental calculations about how many schools could have been built with what people spend in pursuit of avoiding grey hair. The moral of the story is, SpongeBob, my grandma wasn’t ashamed of aging. Once she started going grey, that was it. She just let it happen. I always wanted to be like her. And even though I’m wearing make-up now, I know someday I’ll think it’s silly. All I know is, when I’m old, I’m gonna have white hair, and rock it like there’s no tomorrow. Who cares what people think? In my opinion, I think it’s childishly stupid that my dad doesn’t let his hair grey naturally. I think he looks better grey, the handsomest man in this little town.’’ She playfully nudged his shoulder when she finished. He listened to her story, and realized she was right. It’s going to happen someday. You can’t avoid it forever. Might as well throw caution to the wind, and whatever happens, happens. He smiled. He couldn’t believe he was taking advice from a 16-year-old girl, but she had a profound wisdom beneath all that typical adolescence. ‘’You know what, Pearl? You’re right.’’ ‘’Amen, lil’ brother!’’ she laughed, and held up a hand for a high-five. He returned the gesture and said, ‘’Amen, lil’ sister.’’                                                                                Fin

[oounarisoo]

The Mermaid - Creepypasta

Original Creepypasta written by suicidekissxoxo.

Please give proper credit to the writer when sharing or narrating this story, and post a link to my Tumblr, DeviantArt and WattPad pages. I worked very hard on this. Thank you!

Tumblr: https://suicidekissxoxo.tumblr.com/ DeviantArt: https://suicidekissxoxo.deviantart.com/ WattPad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/suicidekissxoxo

~~~

All of these experiences are true. You will most likely find them hard to believe. I don’t blame you. Choose to believe my story or not, but I will never go near the ocean again. My name is Sam, and I have always been drawn to the ocean, until they found me. I can remember back to when I was a little girl skipping along the sandy beach of my summer home, collecting seashells as I went by. My mother was always away at work as your very own door to door make-up lady, pink dress and all. My father locked himself away from the world and into his own; The attic. I hardly ever saw either of them. I liked the seashells because of the funny shapes cut into them. I know the word for them now. They’re called petroglyphs.

If I was more knowledgeable back then, perhaps my life would have been much different. I could have known that something was strange about our seashore home. I could have stopped it from coming. I was only a little girl. I only truly knew something was off by my father’s bizarre behavior. I didn’t like being alone in that house. It creaked at night and the fast wind made it groan. I often thought of it as alive; I even talked to it. I was so lonely.

It eventually came to the point that my father would make me prepare him food and bring it up to him. I was never good at cooking, but he didn’t seem to mind. He ordered me to leave the food on the floor and knock on the door. Then he would tell me to go to my room. Later, I would come back and pick up the dirty dishes left behind.

So it went on like that until my mother came home. She would scream and holler. He would remain tucked away in his safe place. She would give up and retreat to her room with a bottle of alcohol. I would play on the beach every day. I used those shells for my sand castles. I would get mad because every morning they would disappear from them with only odd footprints left behind that led into the ocean. I was convinced that a mermaid was stealing my shells. I started to beckon her out of the water. Every chance I got, I would watch that water. Whether it be from the dining room window or the circular upstairs window in my room at night; I would watch for the mermaid. I grew up hearing the fairytales, and I guess I thought she could be my friend.

I got braver and swam deeper into the ocean. I could feel the waves pulling me in, but I kept pushing forward until a big wave suddenly hit me. It pulled me under the water as I screamed. The salty water poured into my lungs as I struggled against the current. I felt like I was fighting a person dragging me under. My lungs felt so heavy in my chest as time seemed to slow. That’s when I could see it. A long grey scaly fish tale floated through the musty ocean. It was so dark, I could hardly see anything but ‘till this day I swear I saw long flowing black hair, and big flabby arms with long fingers attached to that tail.

I felt arms wrapping around me as they pulled me up. I struggled but they were too strong. Coughing and gagging as I rose above the water, I found myself looking straight into my father’s ocean-blue eyes. Of course, he was a mess. His brown hair was unkempt and he had a long scraggly beard. To me, though, he was the most beautiful man in the world. He smiled, showing his yellowing teeth. “Samantha! So you can see her too.” He said in his husky voice. It was more of a statement than a question.

Liquid tears starting to slowly fall down his dirty cheeks. “Oh, my girl! I thought I was alone. So alone.” I found myself studying my savior as he cried. I was weirdly composed for one who nearly drowned. In this moment, I understood him. We both were very lonely, and I realized that it was because of the mermaid.

He brought me inside and up into the attic. I coughed from all the dust. I could see the skeleton of the house; moldy brown boards and pink filling added to my wheezing. There was a small window and my dad set up a telescope facing the water. All over the walls were crude scratchy drawings of women with fish tails and long hair. I didn’t like them because the mermaids in the pictures had wide gaping black mouths and black eyes. They didn’t look like the magical creatures from the stories. “Daddy? You believe in mermaids too? I thought you said they were just a story.” I questioned him. I still called him daddy even though I was an older girl of twelve.

“No, Sam. There is no such thing as mermaids. These things are from a dark place. Look! There’s one now!” He fingered for me to come over to the telescope. I peeked through and I saw a white figure swimming in the water. “That’s not a mermaid!” I exclaimed as I turned towards my dad. “Keep looking!” He barked as I jumped to obey the order. When I looked again, the swimmer was gone and there was nothing but waves. “She’s gone, Daddy.”

My father sighed and told me to go downstairs. “I want you to see them. They want to play with you.” He told me. At this point, I knew something about this was unnatural. I could feel the dread building up from deep inside me. I did not like the pictures, and my father seemed very different from the man I once knew long ago. He kept muttering under his breath before he finally yelled at me to bring him more food. On the way out, I studied one picture in particular. It was a picture of the mermaids swimming in a circle around a dead body. The eyes were X’d out and blood was drawn with a red colored pencil. Another picture was tacked up next to it. It was of a mermaid holding a pair of legs in her huge maw. The rest of the body bulged through her belly.

I didn’t want to play with the mermaids anymore. After getting my food, I settled for watching cartoons in my room. SpongeBob SquarePants was playing and I giggled at the goofy jokes. I can’t watch that show today at all. Anyway, eventually I heard screaming downstairs which always meant that my mother was home. I decided to draw a picture for her to cheer her up. I drew the mermaid that I saw before, but I tried to make her look pretty. Since I didn’t see her face, I covered it with her long black hair as I filled in the water with my blue crayon. I brought it down to my mother, who was watching her soaps on the TV. She was dressed in a robe and was probably naked underneath. She stopped bothering with clothes long ago. I could see tattoos of feminine pink spiders up her leg. She had big curly blonde hair and thick glasses like me. I tried to get her attention but she thoroughly ignored me. That is, until I stood and blocked her show as I held the picture up for her to see. She grabbed it from my hands and studied it hard. She grimaced as she looked down on me. “You drew this?” She questioned, a dark tone pervading her voice. I grew scared. I knew that the picture made her angry. I cowered away as she towered over me. “Did you see her? Did you talk to her? Tell me!”

My mom flew into a rage and started to beat on me. I cried out and ran away. I could see her stomping after me, but her walk was more of a stagger. She looked no less mad, though. I hid in one of the bottom cupboards in the kitchen. I felt myself breathing rapidly, and that’s when I heard a crash of glass shattering. I could hear glass hit the tiled floor and something else. There was a huge bang as I trembled. I heard something slapping at the ground before my mother screamed – a loud, high-pitched screech of terror like that of a harpy in her dying breath.

I held my hand over my mouth. Water dripped on my legs from a leaky pipe as my heartbeat sped up. It seemed like forever, but I’m sure it was only a few minutes before I slowly crawled out. There was water splattered all over the floor leading from the broken window and into the hallway. I could hear a horrible groaning in there that grated against my eardrums. I leaned against the wall to peek around the doorframe. In the living room, I could see the mermaid. Her slimy grey tale flapped against the floor. The fin was huge and sickly looking. Her wet black hair covered her body as she faced away from me, but I could see her long arms doing something to my mother as she laid there. I thought I saw blood.

I remembered back to the pictures that my father drew. I didn’t dare make a sound. I quietly tip-toed up the stairs and towards the attic. My plan was to get my dad to help rescue my mom and leave this house. I could hear thumping behind the attic door. I do not really know why I didn’t go in at the time; just something about that thumping scared me enough to continue down the hall and hide in the bathroom. I silently closed the door behind me and hid in the closet. I waited, and waited, and waited. My every breath trembled and tears fell down my face. I felt the terror through every muscle just when the bathroom door opened. I could hear the mermaid turn on the bathtub and sink faucet. I opened the door a crack and peeked through. I saw the pink tattoos that my mom has on her legs.

I let out a sigh, the fear leaving me as I exited the closet. “Mom, are you okay?” I asked timidly. I stopped. It was not my mom. I cannot explain this to this day. I went through every medical book, and even occult books. I don’t know how to rationalize what I saw, but I know it was real.

I saw the mermaid standing there with my mother’s legs, fin nowhere to be seen. Her long wet hair covered her back and her sharp spinal cord poked through. Her skin was a greenish-grey color, and I could see scales cover her arms. I could see the tanned skin of my mother’s thighs under the black hair, and deep red blood dripped all over the floor. What I saw next haunts my dreams even to this day. In the bathroom mirror, I saw it’s face. How could I describe the complete horror that vibrated through every one of my veins? My breathing and heart seemed to stop as I screamed to the top of my lungs. It’s eyes were completely black and as big as dinner dishes. It’s gaping maw was gargantuan. It’s jaw lowered to its chest as flabby skin stretched over it. It had no teeth and a split snake-like tongue. It’s mouth was so wide that I could see every pink crease and vein, and into it’s throat even.

I still screamed as I ran past the monster, out of the bathroom and down the hallway. I could hear footsteps swiftly running behind me. It was so fast that I don’t know how I escaped. I read up about adrenaline rushes. I guess that was what it was, but I’m sure that if I dared to look behind me, I would never have made it out of that house that day. I burst through the door and slammed it behind me.

I heard a voice as it spoke to me. It’s hard to explain, but it was like something that wasn’t me was talking inside of my head. “Where are you going, Sam? We just want to play.” It cooed in a girly voice. My blood went cold at the word “we.” Looking at the shore, I could see dozens of shadows rising from the water. The light of dusk behind them made it impossible to see their details, but I feel gratitude to this day at that small mercy. I ran. I ran into the woods. I just ran and ran, until I reached a neighbor’s house. I should have suspected something was amiss when the door was left wide open. I ran inside and stopped when I saw the bloody body covering the floor. Yes, covering. It’s hard for me to describe the gore, but it was everywhere. It haunts me almost as much as that damned face.

I hid under the stairs. I jumped at every noise, sure that the thing was right around the corner waiting to get me. It must have been hours, but eventually the police came. You wouldn’t believe the relief I felt to know safety once again. It seemed forever before someone came to the house. The policemen found me there. Apparently, my dad hung himself in that attic and my mother’s body was never found.

I know this seems impossible. Believe me, I know how hard it is to believe this story, but it’s true. I can’t go near the ocean anymore. Every seashell reminds me of that thing. I’m just starting to bathe after some extensive therapy. You see, I live in a group home now and the psychologists tell me that it was all a hallucination caused by my abuse. I almost believed them. I so wanted to, except for a couple of things. One: I was visited by these crude men in suits. I read about them on the Internet – the MiB - the Men in Black. I was arrested over a ticket, and they came at the station and asked me all these questions about what happened. Mainly about the monster and where my mother went. I answered as honestly as I could, and they threatened me to not go to the media. It was scary, but they let me off with only that warning.

Secondly, after extensive therapy some of my friends at my school took me to the beach. See, Doc said that it was best to get over your fears. One of my girlfriend’s was dragged under the water. They ran in after her, but they never found her. She just vanished. However, I found long black hair by the water with some seashells. The seashells had the petroglyphs carved into them. I’m never going back to another beach. I’m never going near the ocean again. Believe it or not, but I obsessively read about this stuff. Did you know that ninety percent of the world’s ocean remains unexplored? Decide for yourself what to believe, but beware of what swims in that forsaken water.

[swooncraft]

Thoughts Into a Void-Art & Depression

This is me... organizing things for myself to get back into the swing of things. It’s a little disjointed, but it.. writing things out like this, reflecting, always helps me. It’s not sad and woe is me like.

Taking any time to share a thought and having the power of the internet to spread that to numerous people is amazing.

There’s a disconnect for me somewhere along the line. The platforms I use, while some are made for stories and comics and others aren’t, there’s just something inherently frustrating about spooling out one large cohesive sum. Not just as a reader, I assure you it’s frustrating as a creator too.

When I first learned people make and share their own comics online I was floored. I’d been writing stories and making doodles with them all my life. Ten years ago I shared my first page to the internet. Here it is.

I love realism with a hint of magic or sci-fi, and maybe you can blame Temix for that, but I realized something about that single page; “Why was it only one?” I asked on the forums how people on that site go about posting to make sure people were keeping up and remembering what was happening between posts. My art was crude (for being a young self taught teen artist), but very well intended; and it took me twelve goddamn hours to complete over the course of a week.

A lot of what people said was to have a schedule, people who like your story/art will stick around and remember. I heard a few people agree that webcomics had more dedicated fans, because you posted once or twice a week they would spend a little more time looking at the available pages.

That didn’t seem.. Right to me. I did the same with real comics and manga. If I liked it, once I was done I’d look back through the art... And how could posting a page at a time be beneficial to anyone? One could show consistency and integrity in a schedule with a several page post once a month or one full chapter every several weeks. It boggled me.

I kept drawing though, because I didn’t have several pages to share at a time. I tried my best to post once a week. I worked 50 hours as a manager at the time, so the ten hours I was spending on these pages was a huge investment. After a year I burned myself out...

Part of it was that I didn’t have the artistic skill to depict the things I wanted to do in that old project. Part of it was that it was gaining steam and had something like 30 people following and anticipating it. Part of it was my lack of planning, and still being a little new to storytelling on the scale the project needed...

So, I didn’t draw for months after I hit that wall. It.. was rough. We’ve all got issues, and mine and my inability to get back on my feet back then made me very volatile to myself.

Temix had just gotten out of art school and tried convincing me to draw a bit. I doodled, because she knew how to approach me about it and make it something I couldn’t back down from.

Sooner than later I dreamt about a zombie apocalypse and Deadgirl & Sue were born. With a lot of help and shaping by Temix.

The mission was ‘fuck art, tell the story.’ And that worked fine for a few months and several pages. I didn’t set deadlines for myself, and I didn’t care when I drew two right hands...

Even though this one haunts me to this day.. Anyway, fall of 2010 became summer 2011 and I was reeling internally about this non-schedule and art and story. So I stopped again. But I didn’t kick myself too hard about it because unlike my first comic, no one was paying attention to DG&Sue.

I’d been writing a lot anyway, and was feeling really good about the growth I was making there. I’m ‘good’ at art, I’m ‘okay’ at singing, but since I floundered on story years prior I learned and felt that that was were I shined. Just putting words on a page. I still mostly agree with those sentiments. Maybe now I’m a ‘little better’ at art, and ‘decent’ at singing, but I’m still a star at storycraft.

It was 2013 when I got back on track to finish that single first chapter of DG&Sue. I’d spent the previous 8 months writing a novel. I had the premise for the story in my mind for a few years so I wrote. I learned a lot and crafted something that.. Is really rough and raw, but it’s something I’m still very proud of..

So that fall I finished the second draft, Edited it all myself (though it still probly has plenty of grammatical and spelling errors) and reread it a hundred times to make sure it was only what it needed to be... And submitted it to several agencies. While waiting for replies I finished the last handful of pages for the first chapter of DG&Sue.

it was done. Not only did I write a 65k novel, I finished a comic. It wasn’t completely over, I left it a little open in case I wanted to bring the characters back. For a while though, Juliet and Sue got to rest in peace.

Meanwhile.. Let me be honest. The agents... Who the fuck am I? I’m a hack that flails against a keyboard screaming endlessly into the void; “NOTICE ME, BUT PLEASE DONT LET ME NOTICE THAT YOU NOTICE ME SO I DONT GET OVERWHELMED.”

All of the agents rejected me.

I wasn’t expecting to wow all of them.. I thought one might want to see the whole novel and tell me it could work if I changed something major about it. But none of them-Some of them in their emails back were offended that I submitted my query to them.

That really fucked me up. See, earlier THAT year I hit rock bottom as an alcoholic. Writing that novel helped me stop drinking. And after all of the months and long nights I spent refining that story the best I could to be rejected... I couldn’t kid myself though. None of my friends would even read it. So, I reiterate; screaming endlessly into the void; “NOTICE ME, BUT PLEASE DONT LET ME NOTI-” And I felt really dry. I couldn’t just not do anything about those feeling, but I couldn’t resort to liquor and video games weren’t taking the edge off...

So, to quote a great book, “I felt like destroying something beautiful.” Created a nice new little OC... And sent her through some good old fashioned Lovecraftian horror to fucking break her the way I felt broken inside. It beats being a no life drunkard, and it’s better then shooting up a school or suicide.. The first draft was a short story outline. And I thought, ‘It might be nice to do this as a comic.. to try using.. photoshop like Temix keeps suggesting. I’ll practice colors while I destroy this poor girl. I’ll become intimate with yellows like I became intimate with tones while drawing DG&Sue. And I’ll make Lovecraft my own like I made Priest, and Way, and Palahnuik my own.’

And this release of my feelings...

I decided to do it right. It was scheduled. And made sure it had an ending I could reach. It was a shining yellow light in deep blotchy darkness, Ink was more well received then I ever imagined it would be.

So, I toyed with expanding it while it was being finished. Picked up the threads I left for DG&Sue hoping.. Thinking that if I were working on a rotating schedule, that I wouldn’t get bored, that a new thing to work on every few months would keep me challenged... That I wouldn’t get overwhelmed... and stop.

I wasn’t wrong.

I haven’t missed an update in close to three years now. Sometimes I forget to post at one place or another, but the pages are available somewhere.

Over those years I expanded to several internet mediums... Swoonsphere of course, The Duck where I first started at, DeviantArt, Imgur, Pixiv, Tapastic, and I was directed to upload on Tumblr too, even though it doesn’t lend itself to webcomics...

Between Imgur, Pixiv, and Tapastic, being the only places I do bulk page uploads, I see terrible, but consistent growth every time I post on Tapastic (the other two there’s views, but not a lot of following). Which brings me back to something someone asked me recently, and what I started this and my webcomic career with.

Why don’t I post batches on Tumblr? On most sites?

I considered it. But everything is generally bite sized and easily consumable on these types of sites. That’s why I’ve been more stressed out lately. I’m not hoping that people will follow my Tumblr, because it’s not my... place. It’s not the right platform for what I do. I can only hope that people will see a fragment of a story, or decent art, or decent colors, or interesting tags and click the links to my website where it’s easier to read. I don’t make money off of Swoonsphere, the ads on it are usually blocked or disabled anyway because there’s no traffic. So.. Is it bad practice to hope someone will open a new tab to take a closer look while they’re scrolling through their Tumblr feed?

You know? Like I said.. screaming endlessly into the void; “NOTICE ME BUT PLE-” I don’t know how to market my comics. I dont expect people to come around for my art streams, and I dont expect people to be wowed by my ‘finished’ art. I just want people to read my stories and want to know what the next step is for the characters, or tell me what they think, or ask me why things went the way they did.

Personally I think my stories are a little cheesy and tropey, but have some unique things, and if nothing else, have characters that you can root for.

But I’m tired.. And feel myself after 30 months burning out. Because like my novel no one’s actually read what I’ve done even though it’s readily available for simple viewing. If it’s something wrong with Swoonsphere, I could direct people to the Duck or Tapastic. I post everywhere, and the sum of readers after all this time is hilariously low.

I’m not stopping yet. But I am frustrated, and disheartened.

[geek-gem]

Warning Major Spoilers for Five Nights At Freddy’s Sister Location. Also the custom night ending cutscene music is playing again on the wiki. Well it and now it just stopped the music. Yet yeah major spoilers and I’m gonna talk a bit and used Bing to get these images, none of them belong to me, used Pixlr, but I’ll just start on this and paste this here.

“Father. It’s me, Michael. I did it. I found it. It was right where you said it would be. They were all there. They didn’t recognize at first but then they thought I was you. And I found her. I put her back together, just like you asked me to. She’s free now. But something is wrong with me. I should be dead. But I’m not. I’ve been living in shadows. There is only one thing left for me to do now. I’m going to come find you. I’m going to come find you.”

Fake Movie Meme. Five Nights At Freddy’s Sister Location. Andrew Garfield(The Social Network, The Amazing Spider-Man 1 & 2, Hacksaw Ridge, and Silence) as Michael Afton AKA Eggs Benedict. Ben Affleck(Gone Girl, Argo, Batman V Superman Dawn Of Justice, and The Accountant) as William Afton.

Also on a silly note all Animatronics voiced by their voice actors in game and maybe PJ Heywood still in some way.

I’m making this on DeviantArt this info I’m gonna copy and paste it to when I post this on Tumblr. But I’ve been wanting to make a Fake Movie Meme of Sister Location for quite some time. Today I felt like I wanna make this cause the ideas and emotion behind Sister Location and how the FNAF lore is now.

Also please I’m agreeing with some theories and some of my own yet do not wanna steal any. But please do not be rude about my thoughts cause these are mainly mine.

Over time with the custom night mode being released and the Golden Freddy Ending, the FNAF lore I think changed a lot. Introducing or mainly finally Scott Cawthon the creator of the series revealing the name of the character we play as in Sister Location as he mentioned of what happens with Eggs Benedict. The new character is Michael Afton, who shares the same name as William Afton the supposed Purple Guy or killer with his name revealed in the novel FNAF The Silver Eyes in that universe, with possibly Scott hinting the same killer exists in the game’s universe but this time with a family. With theories highly suggesting he’s the father of the two brothers from FNAF4 and also confirmed in a way the father of the girl from that speaks between nights of Sister Location. Along with appearing in the Circus Baby mini game.

I’m gonna say it, with a lot of the thing I like, I love the FNAF series. I feel kind of stupid that I’m quite scared to play these games and need to play on my other computer some time. Even seeing Sister Location I’m saying this and I think I might of said this but it’s my favorite. Mainly for the fact with it’s story being revealed more and more about who we are playing as. Along with what is going on with the lore.

Over the months just the reveal of Michael Afton and the idea he could be Springtrap is something truly changing for the lore. Including the idea of the story and what Scott could be hinting at. Along with just with me being fan of a lot of stuff. I’m glad I’m a FNAF fan and won’t stop. Because I feel Sister Location might of increased a bit. It’s also amazing for some silly stuff my own personal stuff of having my own version of FNAF in a universe with the canon Steven Universe and The Loud House, along with some Twisted Metal. But that’s another story. Mainly I respect Scott, yes the lore is a mess now. Yet I’ve got my own thoughts of what the timeline could be, but with Sister Location again I seem to like FNAF a lot more.

Which also showed when I was acting so crazy excited like Arin Hanson when the sequel to FNAF The Silver Eyes titled The Twisted Ones when it’s cover and story were revealed. That’s how I’m so engrossed into this series, along with meeting some nice people, and a whole bunch of other things. It’s amazing I never expected to be a fan but I’m glad I’m a fan.

Sorry was trying to get to a point. Yet I should just talk about the casting. Including should mention I’ve made Fake Movie Meme’s before but I do not like my older FNAF Fake Movie Meme’s and wanna remake them. I do still have them thinking maybe might post them to show this is my old works. But will replace them with newer versions. Also the fact the lore has changed quite a bit.

Along with over time I’m a bit serious with casting. Even if a lot of the characters faces and voices are not revealed, it’s fun thinking of what they seem like and love many versions. Including with a show like Riverdale which I do like and other things. I’m not the biggest movie fan yet will see many movies if I can. I do like the art of film making or just the idea of making a story.

Also wanted to put Michael first instead of William cause I keep seeing as Michael as a main focus. Including just saying did save a picture of Ballora when she first appeared in the first trailer forgot I had the part with the Scooping Room cause it’s an important part. Put Funtime Freddy and wanted Bon Bon to be seen cause people love them and their voice actor a bunch of lol’s three.

I’ve had these castings for a while.

For Andrew Garfield even if his voice is indeed not the same as PJ Heywood who voiced both Michael and William. Yet he’s British and yeah being silly or whatever, yet looks like he could be a live action version of the pixel version of Michael as seen in the custom night mini games.

But just saying I kind of have this man crush on Andrew Garfield. Yet his work in films that aren’t just The Amazing Spider-Man films since Sony messed with them. He’s shown he can be a really good actor, who can show raw emotion and other things. Including his passion with film and his acting could be great for Michael and I’ve always tried to have Andrew whenever I’m making FNAF castings. Mainly cause he’s a great person but also a great actor at that. I honestly feel he could play what I think and people have theorized a young man who has lost things in the past, willing to put his own life in danger and what his father told him. Along with the theory that him being the older brother from FNAF4 which I’m going with cause it makes sense, causing him over the years being depressed and hating himself yet trying to be a great person. Along with wanting to get his sister back in some way of saving her. Including being an very emotional man who used to respect and idolize his father but over time grew to hate him cause of all the things that happened.

It’s unknown how old Michael is, I’ve been thinking he’s older then all of the guards in the games but I do not know. I keep imaging as a guy mainly in his mid 20’s or even late 20’s, was thinking of early 30’s but gonna stick with early or late 20’s.

I’m just gonna link the wiki thing for Michael since it’s still here. http://fnaf-sister-location.wikia.com/wiki/Michael_Afton

For Ben Affleck and this is a choice Bluewolfavenger made for his fake Netflix FNAF series, “You Can’t” that focuses on the history of the timeline and the Purple Guy. Even if Ben does not have the voice a bit or he can get it right. It’s not as British as PJ Heywood’s as he was heard voicing William in the intro of the game. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5GTXaEfA7M

Yet I’ve been imagining and I’ve seen great versions of William artists have made. Their seems to be this mindset I seen for William. I’m gonna say this I do not like Batman V Superman Dawn Of Justice a whole lot. Yet Ben’s acting as Bruce Wayne kind of shows this a bit. I remembering mentioning the, “You Can’t” fake trailer and I rather have Ben Affleck be the Purple Guy for some reason in this DeviantArt journal talking about Ben Affleck leaving the director chair for the upcoming Batman film.

He puts on a performance showcasing a grown man a business man who on the outside seems pretty okay. Yet he has something dark within him, he hides secrets and he’s done some dark shit in the past. Along with being a man who created some animatronic made to kill kids which are Circus Baby, Ballora, Funtime Freddy, Funtime Foxy, also their little minions. Yet this results in the death of William’s daughter and the grand opening of Circus Baby’s Pizza World to stop and instead become a rental service to send out these animatronics to parties. It’s unknown whether he feels regret of what happened to his daughter. Yet it seems like he does not care much for his children. Seriously Ben might make a good William Afton. On a silly note, just photoshop his suit where he’s Bruce Wayne make them purple and I’m being silly.

It’s unknown of how old William is. Yet over time I’ve had this mindset that William is ether in his 30’s to 40’s to 50’s. Mainly over time he gets older. Just I’m thinking about the timeline and my versions too.

Also for some reason wanna see Andrew Garfield and Ben Affleck just acting together on screen and them playing a torment young man haunted by his past, and his father who has done many hideous acts yet does not show it a bit, would take control of his son wanting love and respect from his father. Or the fact Michael would need to talk to some one yet father might praise him for killing his brother even if Michael did not mean to do that. I do not know just something. Some family stuff between those two yet you get these two do not like each other, quite the conflict.

Just saying I’m gonna link and did go there but it was the archive of Bluewolfavenger on Tumblr. Will show you lol Will but gonna show you his FNAF works on his FNAF account. http://blue-wolf-avenger.tumblr.com/ First it was some 1 2 y 3 thing but their is the home page showcasing Ben Affleck as the Purple Guy or in this case William Afton.

Also just this trailer music……can we have this just I do not have the skills or stuff to make fake movie trailers. But gosh damn keep thinking about my own FNAF stuff and just wanting to use this music for a FNAF Netflix tv series that includes Sister Location. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rAv5zgtsmM

You know I keep thinking about Michael and William and how the Afton’s are very important such as a some what stupid show title The Afton’s but Henry and Charlie from FNAF The Silver Eyes are important too, with Henry being the founder and owner of both, “Fredbear’s Family Diner”, and, “Freddy Fazbears Pizza” and Charlie the main character of the novel and the upcoming novel The Twisted Ones almost put eyes instead of ones….please don’t die Charlie……I like Charlie and the other characters from the novel.

I’m gonna put tags for this just saying mates

edit put fake movie meme tag lol rag typo mate

[elesianne]

A Silmarillion fanfic, chapter two

Chapter 2 summary: As times turn darker it becomes ever more difficult to see the good in one another.

Story summary: Curufinwë and his wife burn as one flame, but when darkness creeps in nothing is left but embers and then ashes. A study of the disintegration of one marriage among the downfall of the Noldor as a people.

Tag-type thingies (for the whole story): relationships: Curufin/Canonical wife, as well as various family relationships; some keywords: darkening of Valinor, flight of the Noldor, married couple, love, heartbreak, angst, hurt/comfort, then just hurt, sucks to be Celebrimbor

Warnings (for the whole story): Some sexual content, references to violence, emotional distress and cruelty, canonical major character death(s). Also: so much angst, excessive metaphors about fire and light. Rating: I rate this story as Mature to be on the safe side. I chose it because of the general dark mood of the story; sex and violence is very shortly described, nothing graphic.

(Also posted on AO3, DeviantArt and FF.net because I’m overly thorough.)

Chapter notes: This chapter turned out very long but then again, this period wasn't just a year or two, it lasted decades.

Another thing to keep in mind when reading this: while Tolkien kept changing his mind about whether or how the elves had weapons before they came to Valinor, it was clear in all his versions that they led a very peaceful life once they got there, and weapons and fighting (apart from hunting) were not a part of it before Melkor spoke to the Noldor.

*

Chapter II // Flickering flame

Disagreeing with her husband about the Valar is painful for Netyarë, but even harder is what follows those rebellious murmurings because it touches her more closely. The lack of love that Fëanáro has always had for his half-siblings and for Nolofinwë in particular becomes an enmity and a strife within the House of Finwë, the extended family she married into. Suspicions and jealousies are aroused in both Fëanáro and Nolofinwë, and cordial relations between others, too, become frayed.

The friendships between Maitimo and Findecáno, Tyelcormo and Irissë are sorely tried when their fathers become ever more bitter towards each other and all of Tirion is divided into factions. Nerdanel has always got along well with Indis, and Fëanáro has just about tolerated this; now this friendly relationship becomes yet another cause of argument between Fëanáro and Nerdanel, for she refuses to give it up for his sake.

For Netyarë, all interactions with her husband's family, which used to be easy and pleasant, become fraught with danger of missteps and outbursts.

And Curufinwë suffers terribly from the dissension between his parents, since he loves them both and does not want to choose, and now he feels he must. It is his deep love and loyalty for Fëanáro, and Fëanáro's inflexible nature, that makes him feel torn apart. It is difficult for him to be friendly with his mother when he knows that it vexes his father, and whenever Fëanáro forces his sons to take sides with one of their parents, Curufinwë always chooses his father. It surprises no one but pains him nonetheless.

Yet he speaks little of this pain to Netyarë. More and more he keeps his feelings inside, does not speak of them to her and sometimes even attempts to close off his mind. She would comfort him, in the matter of his parents' conflict at least, if he shared his distress with her; many times she has told him that revealing his fears and sorrows to those who love him is not a weakness, and she has heard Tyelcormo say the same, but Curufinwë seems to believe this less and less. Netyarë's own pride often keeps her from reaching out to him when it might be good if she did, because pleading with him to be honest with her when is reluctant to do so does not make her feel good about herself.

Nerdanel can see the cracks in her son's marriage, though they are still very small compared to the estrangement that seems inevitable between her and Fëanáro now that he ignores her opinions and advice, instead following his passions no matter how they hurt his family.

'Curufinwë and you are not Fëanáro and me; do not let our discord become yours', Nerdanel tells Netyarë one day on a visit. 'There is still much love between you two. Try to protect it from the tensions and unrest among our people.'

Netyarë tries. The silences she and her husband fall into to avoid talk of controversial topics she strives to fill by speaking of things which still unite them – art and craft, the few unproblematic family matters, their son. She tries to remember that Curufinwë is not his father, only similar to him; she tries to cherish the love she feels for her husband instead of resenting it for making things complicated.

You knew what he was like when you married him. It is hypocritical and stupid of you to fret over his flaws now, for you chose them along with choosing him as your own. You even chose his father's influence, though you did not know how extreme his ideas would become. This is what she repeats to herself in difficult moments.

Curufinwë tries too, in his own way. He brings her rich gifts even more often than he used to, breathtakingly beautiful things created by his own hand, so valuable and precious that she gasps when he puts them in her hands, and it is difficult to think of many occasions important enough to wear them.

'You do not need to shower me with gifts', she tells him gently one night in bed while he lays on her brown curls a delicate hairnet wrought of gold and silver and decorated with countless tiny, twinkling gemstones of every possible colour. He came home very late because he had wanted to finish it and give it to her on this night.

'What else would I do?' He speaks sharply but strokes the back of her neck as gently as she had spoken. 'How else would I show how much you mean to me?'

They had had ugly words two weeks ago, and many glacial silences since. It is unusual that Curufinwë is the one to first rekindle warmth, and Netyarë appreciates his effort.

'You just need to love me', she says and lays a hand on his.

Curufinwë takes her words very literally. He lifts the glittering hairnet off her head and sets it on the bedside table, and then kisses her with such infinite tenderness that it makes her want to cry. Instead, she answers his kiss with fire. But he does not allow her to escalate the gentle warmth to the raging flame they often become in bed; he lightly holds her arms down while he sweetly touches and kisses every inch of her body as if to show how dear all of her is to him, and for this night the silence between them is driven away by the soft noises she makes.

*

Curufinwë does not tell Netyarë when he begins with his father and brothers to hammer out weapons and shields instead of the beautiful useful and ornamental objects they used to make. Tyelcormo, believing that his younger brother has told his wife, lets it slip one day in a conversation between the three of them, and she is devastated.

That night they shout at each other as loud as they dare, trying not to wake Tyelperinquar but unable to keep their feelings inside. Netyarë, as hurt that he kept this a secret from her as she is horrified that he is creating instruments of killing, demands that he tell her what or who they intend to use these weapons against.

'We make swords so that we can defend ourselves against betrayal', Curufinwë says in a voice of cold steel.

'Betrayal like hiding things from your own wife?' she slashes back. 'That is the only kind of betrayal I see in our land.'

He flinches and says between ground teeth, 'I did not tell you because I knew you would be like this. You don't understand.'

'No, I do not! Make me understand, Curufinwë, if you can.'

He cannot, and this incident makes her no more receptive to the ideas espoused by Fëanáro and Curufinwë. And the knowledge that he lied to her stays with her, haunting her thoughts.

In fact, over time, all the things they thought they had left behind before they even fell in love come back to haunt them: the greatness of his family, the insignificance of hers, and the difference in between. His pride and superiority, her pride and conviction that in many ways that matter, his family is no more valuable than hers. His temper, its flames hidden but ever present; his father, and his unswerving loyalty.

And new causes of disagreement arise as well: her close friendship with his mother, which had before been a source of joy also for Curufinwë but is now a point of contention within the family, and her refusal to stop painting commissions for lords who don't support Fëanáro unquestioningly (there are few of those commissions, anyway, and eventually they stop entirely).

Once again, in order not to widen the gulf between them, they avoid talking about the things that cause them to quarrel: their differing opinions on the Valar, Nolofinwë and his house, the weapons.

Yet it is difficult to get along, and different from before. They are both different. Curufinwë tries to keep his temper in check, to speak coolly and act rationally even though his father's anger rages also in him. Some of the time he succeeds in controlling himself, but not nearly always. To Netyarë it seems that he is steel and quicksilver by turns, and she cannot keep up with him. She begins to grow tired of trying, and resentful with him for forcing her to accommodate his moods while she is unhappy herself.

There is a fire in him, this she has always known. But it has only ever warmed her or burnt her in the most pleasurable of ways before, never leaving marks she did not cherish. Now she grows afraid of being burnt; being truly afraid is a new sensation, and she discovers that she hates it.

*

Once when the two of them are leaving Finwë's palace and some of Nolofinwë's most fervent supporters corner them and strike up a conversation, she sees Curufinwë dig his fingernails into his palms as he attempts to rein in his temper, to speak in measured words rather than let out the furious shout that is already on the tip of his tongue. He presses his nails in so hard that after a few moments, she sees drops of blood swell up.

She makes up an excuse, something to do with herself, so that they can quickly leave the tense conversation. As they walk away both of them hold themselves straight and proud, her hand on his arm in a show of support, he fitting his longer strides to her shorter ones. This is all easy and instinctive, their public facade that became routine years ago.

Words are harder. Curufinwë says nothing, just stares ahead with his jaw drawn tight. Pity and irritation vie for control of Netyarë's tongue; pity wins out when she sees another crimson drop fall from his still-bleeding hand on to the skirts of her dress that thankfully is a dark pink shade, garnet-like, and does not show the blood very clearly.

'You can tell me', she says quietly. 'Whatever it is you wanted to say to them, you can tell me now. I will listen, and it might make you feel better.'

'It isn't anything that you want to hear.'

'I would still hear it if you would tell me.'

He does not. He says nothing and he conceals his feelings from her, and they walk home in fraught silence. Thankfully the bleeding stops before they get there.

Netyarë is sorry that once again he chose not to share a burden with her. She understands that he needs to hone his control over himself to keep his temper in check when tensions rise, but must he also keep her at arm's length? It happens more and more, him not accepting her offers of help, and it makes things harder for her, too.

That night in bed, when he finally turns to her in search of the comfort to be found in her arms, she tells him, 'You are too cold and too hot to me in turns.'

'But I love you.' He seems genuinely confused and upset, and a little desperate.

Is love enough after all? Afraid of the answer, she does not ask out loud.

*

Though they try to avoid speaking of their disagreements, the issues that cause strife between them and in their whole society inevitably keep coming up and as they grow ever more frustrated with each other, Curufinwë's arguments in particular become more personal and his words more direct and vicious.

'It is a grave betrayal indeed if the Valar truly brought us here so that we live in thraldom while they give the rest of the world to the second-comers', Netyarë concedes to him one day. 'But what proof do we have of them doing that?'

Instead of answering her question, he tells her harshly that she does not understand that she is a thrall of the Valar, and he does, for one simple reason: 'You are from the lower classes, and thus you are used to being ruled and have never imagined ruling a land of your own; you cannot imagine it. My family can.'

In their decades of marriage Curufinwë has never reminded her of her humbler background in a cruel way; in spite of his arrogance and pride, he has always treated her as his equal. If he had not, she thinks she would not have married him or indeed have been capable of loving him.

Now she sees that he regrets his words as soon as he says them, but he cannot take them back: they are between them now, another wall pushing them apart. She knows that he meant what he said, even if he wishes he had not said it out loud. And perhaps he is even right; she doesn't know if he is. But reminding her of her lower birth in that manner felt like cruelty, and it felt like the man she loves telling her that she is of less worth than he is. This she finds difficult to forgive even when he eventually apologises.

It becomes harder and harder for Netyarë to not act cold towards him at home, and to not let resentment usurp love's place in her heart. Supporting him in public is hard, too: standing silently by her man is against her nature, especially when what he says goes against what she believes. Yet she does it for a while, just stands there looking aloof or smiling, whichever is appropriate, thankful that she is better at pretending than many.

Then she begins to avoid all easily avoidable social events, and then the ones that are harder to skip, too, to avoid the pretence that is starting to make her feel sick to her stomach.

She throws herself into her work and into caring for Tyelperinquar; his father still spends a lot of time teaching him but Netyarë believes that far from giving their son all that he needs, Curufinwë's attention may well leave Tyelpë needing more of the gentler care that she can provide. Tyelpë may have already grown to be taller than his mother, but Netyarë thinks he still needs kind words and encouragement, not just Curufinwë and Fëanáro's strict tuition and high expectations. He may look eerily similar to them, but he is unlike his father and grandfather in temper.

*

Netyarë and Curufinwë have one of the worst fights so far, or at least the one that most greatly widens the rift between them though it is not as loud as some of the others, on a day he comes home with Tyelperinquar unexpectedly early. Their timing is not the only unexpected thing: to her horror, when she comes to greet them Netyarë sees that her son is swaying on his feet and being supported by Curufinwë, and Tyelpë's right arm is in a sling and his face covered in bruises, a particularly vivid one forming around one of his eyes.

'What happened?' she breathes in horror to Curufinwë as she hurries to help Tyelpë sit down in a comfortable chair.

Curufinwë looks like he is searching for words; her eyes narrow at him even as Tyelperinquar hastens to reassure his mother. 'Don't worry, mother, it was just –' He winces and touches his bruised jaw. 'It was just an accident. I will be fine.'

'He will be fine, really, Netyarë', adds his father. 'We already saw a healer, and it is only a broken elbow, the rest is just bruises –'

'What kind of an accident was this?' Her voice is low as she speaks to Curufinwë; it would be furious if she did not want to avoid upsetting Tyelpë. 'I though you two were going to work at the forge today. How did he come to be bruised, bones broken? It seems more like a hunting accident, yet he has never before come home from a hunting trip looking like this.' She gestures at their son's wretched state.

'We changed our plans.' Curufinwë moves his hands behind his back as if he has something to hide, but she has had enough time to see that his knuckles are bloody, too.

Tyelpë has been coming home with battered knuckles on many nights recently, Netyarë thinks, and moving stiffly as if after great exertion. And acting a little strangely with me.

'Are you training him to fight?' she asks her husband with deathly calm. 'Have you been hiding that you are teaching him to kill as you hid from me that you were forging weapons to kill with?'

'Mother, please –' says Tyelperinquar in a pained voice. He has always hated to see his parents quarrel, and this seems more serious and dangerous than most of their disagreements.

Netyarë tears her gaze off her husband's chilly and angry eyes, but she still feels his shame and anger in the connection between them as she turns to Tyelperinquar and speaks softly to him. 'Did the healer already give you something for the pain?'

'Yes, that's why I am a little dazed.' Tyelpë shakes his head as if to clear it.

She tells Curufinwë to help their son to his bed and herself goes to gather a few things to make him comfortable. When she comes to Tyelpë's room she tells her husband to leave and thankfully he departs without a word of protest, only telling Tyelpë that he will feel better soon.

'I am sure I will, father', Tyelpë says dreamily, already half-way to Lórien.

Netyarë stays until he falls asleep, and for a long time after. She can hear her blood pounding in her ears as she watches her sleeping son, dearer to her than anything else in the world. She had thought that Curufinwë felt the same way about Tyelpë, whatever his other faults. So how could he allow him to be hurt, even by accident?

Eventually she rises and goes to find her husband. To his credit, he has not run away to his own father but stayed at home. She finds him in his study pretending to work but really just staring at the ledger in front of him.

She sits in the chair in front of his desk, opposite him, on opposite sides of the table and the argument that they both know will begin as soon as she opens her mouth.

'Will you tell me about the fighting training you have been doing with him.' It is a command, not a question.

As tonelessly as if he were talking about something completely insignificant, Curufinwë recounts how he with his father and brothers had first began to practise martial skills amongst themselves and then, later, taught others, loyal followers of Fëanáro.

'And our son, whom you have made into a loyal follower of your father.' Netyarë is controlled in her anger as usual, but this time it is for her child being hurt, and her fury and grief infuse every seemingly calm word with power. The incandescence of it feels almost too much to bear.

'It is the custom for sons to be loyal to their fathers, as he is to me and I am to my father.'

She cannot believe that he is seeking defence in platitudes. 'As it is for husbands to be honest with their wives! Still, I should probably have grown accustomed to you lying to me by now. But this time you made him lie to me, too, and that I cannot forgive.'

'We have not lied to you about this, we have merely not spoken –'

'That is lying by omission and you know it very well, and so should Tyelpë! But then this has been a good opportunity for you to teach him deception and dissembling along with fighting, has it not? Since you have always thought him too forthright and open.'

'He is too open with his feelings and thoughts, Netyarë, and it is dangerous.' Curufinwë, too, seems desperate as well as angry.

'More dangerous than what made him come home today battered, barely on his feet? How did he come to be hurt so, if you were only training?'

'One cannot practise these things without risk. Tyelcormo misjudged his strength, and Tyelpë misjudged the distance –' Curufinwë stops speaking when he sees Netyarë biting her fist to keep calm, tears gathering in her eyes. 'I am so sorry that he got hurt, my love. I did not wish it.' Oddly, he never lays aside endearments even during their fights. Perhaps he considers them another weapon in his arsenal.

'Are you laying the blame on your brother?' She wipes away tears, unhappy that her anger is turning into sorrow so fast. She cannot afford to be soft, because her husband will never truly be.

'No, he was only sparring with Tyelpë because I asked him to. Because he is the best of us in this, and I want Tyelpë to learn from the best.' Curufinwë swallows. 'I misjudged too. I asked more of Tyelpë than he was ready for.'

'You keep doing that', she tells him, exhausted with this old argument. 'Why, Curvo? Why do you keep rushing his learning in the forge, and now in fighting?'

'Because he needs to learn these things.'

'But surely there is no such hurry, no need to risk hurting him or to drive him to exhaustion. There is time.'

Curufinwë looks like he wants to argue this point, and Netyarë wonders, Is there not? Why do you think so? What do you keep expecting to happen?

'Do not treat me like a child or a servant, Curufinwë', she warns him. 'I am your wife, and I have the right to know if you are planning something.'

Do you? he asks her, if only in his mind, and Netyarë knows that they are now searching for the limits of the roles of a man and a woman, of a wife and husband's relative rights. Their marriage has been more equal than many others, until now at least.

'Things may not always be as they are now. Times change', is all he says in the end.

'I know that.' To her pain, she does know it. She pauses, controls her temper to be able to drive her point across. 'But I still don't understand what it is that you need Tyelpë to learn to protect himself against.'

Once again, instead of an answer and understanding there is only silence.

*

'I am very sorry for lying to you', Tyelperinquar tells her the next day as they sit eating lunch together. Since his better hand is out of use, she cuts his food for him as she has not done for many decades.

'I know your father told you to do it or you would not have lied.' Tyelpë's freely given admission that he had indeed lied makes it even easier for her to forgive him. 'I understand your loyalty, but I also wish you know that you can tell me anything.'

'I know.' Tyelpë stabs at his food with his fork. 'Did father apologise too?'

She knows this is his way of asking if his parents have reconciled. 'In his own way, he did.'

Curufinwë had acted more decently than she had expected by saying that he was sorry that Tyelperinquar had been hurt and by admitting that he had made a mistake, and even though he had not actually apologised for lying, her treacherous heart has half-forgiven him. But she doubts she can ever wholly forgive putting Tyelpë in danger, and she certainly will not forget it.

'There will be no shouting between your father and me tonight', she assures her son. One night's peace is a pitiful promise, but she dares not promise more since she does not want to end up a liar too.

'I will keep training to fight better, once my arm heals', Tyelperinquar says after a while. 'I am sorry if it causes you grief, mother, but it is what men of our family do now. And I am almost grown up.'

'I know, my darling.' How could she not, when it feels like every day she has to look farther up to meet his gaze? She wishes he were still the bright-eyed little boy who found safety enough in her arms, but time marches on inexorably and he must find his own place in the world. It seems to be by his father's side, as little as she likes it.

'Your father is demanding with you, but he is proud of you, and he does love you too.' She hates herself for making apologies for Curufinwë, but even more she wants Tyelperinquar to be happy, and he needs to know that he is loved by the father he follows in all things.

'It's all right, mother. I know that he loves me.' Her son's grey eyes, the shape and colour of them exactly like hers, are filling again with light and warmth.

'I am glad to hear that.' She manages to give him a weak smile that seems to reassure him that she is all right – he is not as good at seeing though pretences as either of his parents, and sometimes even Netyarë worries about it. But he is otherwise smart and strong, and he has a generosity of heart that she cherishes even if Curufinwë thinks it a vulnerability, a weakness.

As they finish their meal in silence, an easy and comfortable one, Netyarë looks at Tyelperinquar with tenderness and thinks, Somehow you do always know that your father loves you, my dear boy. You remember it, but I think it has been a long time since he last told you so.

She is so proud of her bright, brave son, and as long as she has him she could never regret marrying Curufinwë.

*

Then one day, after countless days of growing tensions, Fëanáro strides into the King's council hall armoured and armed and threatens Nolofinwë with his sword. Curufinwë and his other sons go with him to the Ring of Doom when he is summoned to answer to the Valar for this deed, and for his words of rebellion.

Netyarë does not go. She had been at home with Tyelperinquar when her father-in-law committed his rash folly, and she has nothing to testify. The days she waits for news from Taniquetil are tense and filled with shadows that whisper questions at her.

The shadows ask her how she will bear it if the man who returns to her is even harder to love than he was before. What if, in this matter and during all years to come, he keeps siding with his father and disregarding her views and her happiness? How much longer can she tolerate being placed second in the affections of the one to whom she bound herself by supposedly eternal ties of love?

What will she do if things do not get better, only worse? The question echoes in the empty rooms of their big house. Could she ever yield, abase herself and accept whatever scraps of affection Curufinwë condescends to spare her, remaining loyal and loving in return for very little? Or will she be like Nerdanel, living in the same house with her husband but leading completely separate lives, their former devotion and intimacy only a painful memory? Perhaps she will try to drive him away from the house they lovingly made their shared home years ago, because at some point she can no longer stand the sight of him…

She does not know how to find a path back to happiness, but the thought of losing him tears at her heart. We have not had seven children and brought them to adulthood together, we have not had centuries of loving each other; I am not ready to give up on you yet.

When we chose each other you promised me a forever. It is turning out to be a very short time.

*

A/N: I tried to show in this long chapter that the disintegration of this marriage is not a straight descent from happiness to estrangement but a gradual process with better moments scattered amid the increasing alienation.

Fëanor is now well on his way to becoming 'terrible dad Fëanor' and Curufin's not doing too hot either, thus the 'Sucks to be Celebrimbor' tag. Netyarë's not perfect either, of course, but this is written from her POV so we perhaps see her flaws less clearly. And she is in a very difficult situation.

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