#i was told over and over if i could just apply myself to other subjects the way i did with science

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

Contemplating the concept of "potential" when it comes to intelligence and realizing how heartbreaking Logan's "Dreams come true, that's news to me" line in the Crofters Musical.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Assumption: You were considered "a pleasure to have in class."

Incorrect! I was a pain in the goddamn ass, and frequently got told to stop asking so many questions.

Like literally I had a teacher tell me other people in the class were uncomfortable speaking up because I made them feel insecure by always raising my hand and asking follow up questions and debating subjects.

Apparently people felt like I was showing off, flaunting my intellect, trying to dominate the class socially, being pretentious. Apparently people felt like I was arrogant and only speaking up to make them feel bad.

And like, I'm not gonna say there wasn't ego involved with it, and I'm not gonna say I wasn't way too much to deal with at times - undiagnosed ADHD and all that. I'm also not going to pretend like men aren't raised to believe that we have the right to speak over other people and get attention for our every idle thought. I can completely understand how I could be a fucking misery to deal with in a classroom.

Also, in addition to that, hahaha oops now I have rejection sensitivity dysphoria and lifelong difficulty being myself in social situations. Gee golly willikers, I wonder how that happened!

I literally just wanted to learn things. I was literally just doing exactly what I'd always been told you're supposed to do at school. Everyone else seemed to just want to look into their books and stay silent every time a teacher encouraged us to ask questions, nobody else ever asked questions, and I thought I was supposed to be curious and engaged.

Eventually settled for just reading the encyclopaedias in the school library during recess. The day I discovered Wikipedia was a day of joy and relief, let me tell you.

But yeah, no, outside of maybe one or two teachers who seemed to like my engagement, I was considered disruptive and inconsiderate and got a lot of "he would be a great student if he just applied himself more," by which they seemed to mean "shut up and hand in homework."

[sommerbueckers]

My Brother's Best Friend Pt6

___________________________________________________________

Noella chewed silently on a salted pretzel as I disclosed the details of my hookups with a certain blonde. We had been talking for a whopping hour and a half per Noella's request to know every single detail.

"You're telling me, that you lost your girl on girl virginity two years ago and never told me?" Noella finally asked after swallowing a bite of her food.

"That's all you got from this?" I frowned, unimpressed.

"No, no no. I just need a minute to process the fact that you've been secretly hooking up with Paige for almost a month," Noella said.

"Okay in my defense, I thought that weak shit two years ago was gonna be a one-time thing," I argued, resting my elbows on the table.

"But?"

I sighed, "But then she came into my room to say 'goodbye' after Thanksgiving break."

Noella snorted and shook her head, tucking a few strands behind her ear. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Insanely active," I smirked.

Noella ripped a piece of her pretzel off and squished it around with her fingers before eating it. I waited patiently for her to say something, to either continue my dirty joke or change the subject entirely. When she finally did speak, I wished it had been one of the above.

"So what's the deal with you two? Are you talking, dating, like, what's up?" she asked.

I didn't know the answer, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about what it could be on multiple occasions. Whether it was by choice or it was simply because I didn't have the courage to talk to anyone else, I was exclusively hooking up with Paige. But that didn't mean that she was exclusively hooking up with me. College did interesting things to a person. It not only made you, in Paige's case, blonder and hotter, but it also made you wilder.

How could I be sure that Paige wasn't keeping herself busy when she was 1,300 miles away from me? I couldn't, and that's what scared me the most. I was carelessly giving her the key to my heart, not even caring what she did with it. For all I knew she was looking for someone else to pass the responsibility onto and having her own fun along the way.

But then I thought back to earlier, how this hookup felt different from the others. We had started off slower, savoring the taste of each other's lips. She told me she missed me. Was that all just a hoax to get me to let my guard down easier? The way her eyes had traced every detail of my face, admiringly staring at me. No, it couldn't be.

Was I driving myself crazy?

"You still there babe?" Noella waved her freshly manicured hand in front of my face, pulling my attention back toward her.

"Yeah, yeah i'm here," I nodded.

"Okay...Are you gonna answer the question?" The blonde was now leaning back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest as she looked at me with quizzical eyes.

I shrugged silently and slid my slushy off the table, toying around with the straw before taking a long sip. "I would if I could."

___________________________________________________________

Game night in the Collymor house was hands down the most anxiously anticipated event of the month. Six players, three teams, and a different selection of games every time. The night consisted of greasy foods and hot takes swirling around in a pool of competitiveness. Everyone wanted to win, but at the end of it all, only one team would walk away smiling.

I adjusted my pajamas in the mirror, a light pink floral set with dark pink flowers scattered throughout it. My hair was freshly washed, hanging down my back in soaked spirals dripping with product. I applied a layer of chapstick to my lips, a popping noise echoing in the room after I'd finished.

Noella was seated on the bed, scrolling idly on her phone as she waited for me to finish. I had never put much into my appearance on game night mainly because of how long the night lasted, but this time was different. Paige was here per usual, but I knew she was looking at me. Suddenly, Noella groaned from behind me, and her eyes shot up to meet mine in the reflection.

"What is it?" I frowned.

"Please respond in this fucking group chat, these bitches won't listen to me," she complained.

"What group chat?"

"The cheer chat," she breathed out, narrowing her eyes.

"What are they saying?" I asked as I moved to grab my phone from my dresser.

"They don't believe me about the practice times changing. Just because i'm not head captain, doesn't mean i'm clueless!" Her eyebrows were knitted together as she spoke, frustration evident in her expression.

Cheer was practically Noella's life, and when the captain title was passed down to me, she was heartbroken. So, I made sure that she had as much power on the leaderboard as I did.

I read over the messages in the group chat, frowning as I learned how they had out right ignored Noella's info text about the practice times. Before I could figure out how to address it, I heard my mom calling everyone from downstairs.

Sighing, I set the phone down on the bed. "We'll deal with it later, c'mon."

I grabbed her hand and we made our way out of the room where we ran into Micah and Paige in the hallway. They were clad in various shades of purple; lilac socks, lavender shirts, amethyst basketball shorts they had gotten from an athletic camp last summer. They held proud smiles on their faces as they emerged from the cave Micah called a room.

Noella snorted, "No way you guys coordinated your outfits."

"So what if we did?" Micah frowned, "It's better than those pieces of string you two call pajamas."

"At least I wear pajamas! Can't imagine waking up with literally nothing covering my chest," she retorted.

The two of them descended the steps, their petty bickering continuing. Before I could follow after them, I felt a familiar hand graze over my butt. My motions came to a halt when Paige leaned over to whisper in my ear, "These things are little."

I bit my lip when she gently squeezed, "Try not to let 'em throw you off your game."

She scoffed and slipped past me, "You and I both know that's not possible."

The comment was meant to be funny, and I tried to find the will within me to laugh as I walked down the steps and into the living room, but I just couldn't. I had probably taken it deeper and more personal than I should've, letting the poisonous meaning I had interpreted it to have infect my mind.

'You and I both know that's not possible.'

Paige completely pulled my attention away from everything else. She was the first person I looked for when I entered a room, regardless of whether I knew she was there or not. When I was in her presence, I was hyperaware of everything I did. Was I breathing too quickly -- too slowly? Was I walking funny? Should I fix my hair? I'd carefully plan my outfits on the days I knew Micah had invited her over, obnoxiously discreetly placing myself wherever they'd be.

In the midst of all of that; all the planning, the watching, the waiting, had Paige even given me a second thought? On the days that she'd come over straight after practice, was she subconscious about the fact that she smelled funky? On the summer days that our family spent at our lake house, was she worried about what I'd think of her in her bathing suit? Could she have even considered me for a moment as I unwittingly surrendered my heart to her?

Who was I kidding? Of course she hadn't, and after thinking over our entire relationship, I didn't know how I hadn't seen it sooner.

Paige was a basketball phenom; McDonald's All American, she had made the cover of SLAM magazine, and she was destined to go to the WNBA.

And I was just her best friend's little sister.

___________________________________________________________

its short, ik, don't be mad. but in my defense when i started this story i didn't think people would actually like it so i didn't have a real storyline in mind. IM TRYING HERE.

there's so much cooking in my brain i can't keep up w everything

probably gonna start another series soon too😫

[butchciri]

the difference between having a male therapist and a female therapist is night and fucking day. 2 years ago when i told this guy i had transition regret, he listened to me explain how im tired of pretending to be a man and how i’ve accepted that im female. i cried as i told him how much i wanted to be seen as a human, not as a gender. it was the longest time i went interrupted in a session, and i was proud to finally verbalize my experience.

his response? maybe you’re agender! the solution? how about we figure out what clothes you like to wear and what gender neutral name you want! and then he pulled up a list of gender neutral names started reading them off. i was stunned. i had just laid my soul bare and finally put words to how fucking dehumanized i felt because of gender, and he’s sitting there like “how about kai? ash?”

i started seeing a woman, and when i told her the same story, she took me seriously. we discussed how much value i was placing in other people’s perceptions of me. she helped me break down the negative beliefs i held about myself and unknowingly projected onto others. we talked about body image issues and beauty standards. we had philosophical discussions about sex and gender roles. she helped me apply rationality and radical acceptance to my thought process. i could finally see the power of normalization over individualization. she asked provocative questions, never interjected, and never presumed to know what i was thinking. i stopped having suicidal thoughts. i healed.

CBT is supposed to meaningfully address inner conflict and challenge thought patterns. but some men treat it like an exercise of their authority on the subject of life, bestowing wisdom and advice to all that sit below him. like sorry but you need to go be a preacher or something dude you aren’t helping anyone.

[nihilnovisubsole]

Because of your latest post: not sure if you’ve answered this before, but how does someone even entertain the idea of writing for the game dev industry? Did you start out on indie games or just write before and show them your work? Since it’s such a subjective field etc

if i have, it bears repeating! here's a rough timeline of what i did. never discount the value of luck and the kindness of friends

2016: i was doing a random freelance transcription job when i saw @theivorytowercrumbles post about writing for voltage. they reblogged the studio's open casting call for new writers. since it was so lenient - no experience, fanfic samples allowed - i applied. they hired me for their new project, but let me go after a trial period, citing that the tone of my writing was a bad fit for that game. i foundered for a while after that. i don't take rejection well. i started dangerous crowns to try to make money from writing some other way.

2017: one of voltage's producers reached out to me and said they'd started another project that i was a good fit for. she felt letting me go was a mistake and wanted to snap me back up. i said yes, i mean, are you kidding? so i started on reiner's route.

2018-2019: i kept at it. i took on diego's route. it occurred to me that i wasn't making very much money, but i liked my coworkers, and i was building my portfolio, so who cared? i also finished dangerous crowns, and a handful of people bought it, but certainly not enough to support myself or anything.

early 2020: between the pay and creative differences with voltage's team, it started to sink in that i needed to find other work. i applied to the few open game writer jobs i could find, but with only mobile romance in my portfolio, i got nowhere. i threw in dangerous crowns samples. i tried to network on twitter. i still never made it to the interview phase. i foundered for a while again.

late 2020: the voltage writers went on strike. i gave a statement to a journalist that one of obsidian's narrative designers noticed. we became acquaintances over it. another old friend of mine threw me a life raft in the form of a different contract, better paying, on a non-romance indie game. i took it gladly. i added a twine game to my portfolio, too. i kept applying. i got a few interviews, but something still didn't click.

2021: i finally accepted that i needed formal help. i did a portfolio workshop. i got resume coaching. the coach passed my name to a writer on the company of heroes team. they liked me! they also paid me more money than i'd ever seen in my life. at the same time, obsidian advertised a narrative job opening. i applied on a lark and let my ND pal know i was doing so. why not, right? college-new-vegas-fan me would want me to. they rejected me, but not before i passed their writing test and two interviews. i had nothing to lose at that point, so i told my ND pal that i was bummed. she gave me a golden piece of advice: "you came really close. try again."

2022: obsidian had another narrative opening. i threw myself at it. i was now going to annoy them into hiring me. since i was a known quantity from applying six months before, they had no qualms about interviewing me again. this time, it worked out, and i've been there ever since.

what's the common denominator here? i met people who thought i was all right and gave me a hand up when i needed it. the standard advice is to work with a community of your peers instead of trying to get your heroes to senpai-notice you. it's not that they don't care - they just have their own thing going on, and your peers could be the heroes of tomorrow if the right project comes along. i also found the portfolio was the end-all-be-all when it came to job hunting. i went through a grieving process with that! i'm not afraid to admit it. i wish studios had held my degree or dangerous crowns in higher regard, but i just had to make games in a wider variety of genres, and that was that.

one caveat: narrative is a really saturated field right now. a lot of people want to write, and there aren't many openings. it's not uncommon for big studios to get hundreds of applicants. larian probably got over a thousand for the job they posted recently. i feel awful saying that, because i don't want to discourage you, but i'd feel worse if i didn't let you know what you were getting into. if it's something you want, you should try! keep an open mind about the random projects you may find. you never know where they'll take you.

[weaselbeaselpants]

Lorch opened her big stupid mouth again and decided to lean into "addicts are all awful and deserve to die" territory. How adorable.

My father functionally drank himself to death after he finally drove us away for good with his constant rage sessions, bouts of anger, stalking, suicide baiting and threatening us with guns, and all of this after a period of hightened emotional and verbal abuse we were subjected to after the death of my grandmother which lead him to self-medicate even harder than he already did throughout my whole life. I get really pissed at the idea that drugs, ANY drug or substance, can "save" you. It can't. You have to save you and self-medication can kill and does kill. It ruined my life because it ruined my dad's life and it ruined his immune system to where he died of bronchitis. I know from watching my dad's brother, my uncle, who did do HARD drugs and had the same issues as my dad, that hard drugs are easy to get into after you keep clearing hurtles to escape pain/feel higher, and then DANGEROUSLY hard to escape from. No Lily I didn't need Requiem for a Dream and Trainspotting to tell me that though I've heard from people that both those movies are disturbingly accurate about heroine, which is horrifying. No one should go through what happens in those stories and they sure as hell shouldn't be blamed/shamed/treated like 'filth' for being in that position at all.

The thing is, people are responsible for themselves. Not taking prescriptions right is bad. ALWAYS talk with a psychiatrist they are literally there to hear how you're doing on your drugs; never drink/smoke/toke and drive or handle machinery. It is absolutely not worth it get your friend or family to do it PLEASE even if they're annoying (at best) and chast you for that. If there's any way in which weed can directly kill you -Lily- it's through this. Wait till you're home; I'm not telling you this crap because I'm your mom, stranger on the internet reading this. I'm telling you this as a person with my own vices who lives around other people with their own vices; take care of yourself as best you can. You can do better, but you can never be perfect and that's okay. Don't abstain from stuff you can't quit but please be responsible. And godspeed to people dealing with addictions to hard drugs. I wish you the best - you can do it and as impossible as it may seem you will find the things you need in life to escape your pain without your addiction. I wish...so much that vibes and prayers and good thoughts could do more for you; especially the people dealing with drugs and homelessness right now which is SO MANY in my county alone. My government is screwing you over. You deserve to live and you ought to have your story told no matter what.

Anyway fuck you six ways to sunday Lily Orchard in the name of HUMANITY. You miserable, awful woman- wishing death and eugenic talk onto addicts for the crime of being an addict. You're the kind of person who doesn't just get uncomfortable+scoot away at a clearly tripping person on the bus, you actively say vile things abt them under your breath and scream at them if they even come near you. You have no empathy. I pray to god you never come across a homeless person. You must think the same backward garbage about them too.

Also speaking of vices and lecturing people on them, I find all this rich coming from the woman who wrote incest-laden cp left and right in her heyday, blames other people for it and very likely has accounts full of visual cp under your sockpuppets. I don't drink, smoke or take heavy drugs myself, Lily. But, just looking at what your good old friend Tara (who is not Sai. We both know this I don't even like Sai and I know it's not Sai) has hidden on the web I kind of want to now just to get those images outta my mind. "Quit at anytime/just NOT do the dangerous this" clearly doesn't apply to you. Predator.

[rohirric-hunter]

Tagged by @a-lonely-dunedain to plug OC names into this heacanon generator and see if it fits.

Léonys:

Léonys doesn't own a single pair of matching socks.

Okay, so in actuality no, Léonys has lots of pairs of matching socks and is actually pretty neat about her clothes and stuff when she's at home. BUT I can see this becoming one of those annoying widely-accepted fanon headcanons in direct contradiction to canon because 95% of the time the reader is exposed to her in a, "Has been living in the woods for 3-8 business days, has not spoken to another human being in almost a week, ate bark that was still attached to the tree, laid flat on her back with her mouth open while it was raining to get a drink (for fun)," kind of state, or the many stages of breakdown I dragged her through in Léonys of Rohan. I think if my stuff had a bigger following a lot of people would have trouble reconciling that Léonys with the way she acts when she's, like, in a house.

Léonys does not know what sleep is.

She really does not LMAO. Take a nap, girl

Léonys is smart but also very stupid.

I mean this one's vague enough that it could apply to basically anyone I think. Which means it's a winner! Léonys figured out, on her own, within a few days of properly meeting him, that Aragorn was the heir of the old kings. She also got involved in all that because she saw brigands with hostages and was like, "Go and get help? Tell the town guard? Involve the other hunters? Nah! I'll just follow them! :) and take care of it myself :)."

Léonys crashed a riding lawn mower into their fence.

Absolutely not the ride-on lawnmower goes nowhere except where she told it to go. The ✨🌟🤗🐎💖bond ✨🌟🤗🐎💖 that exists between the Rohirrim and their horses ride-on lawnmowers

Hathellang:

Hathellang is a cry baby.

I mean I guess it depends on what about. This also sort of sounds like a headcanon made up by someone who doesn't actually like the character, so, you know. Subjective. I don't think so. But there's not a lot I would label crybaby anyway.

Hathellang has a roblox account.

Disclaimer: I've never played Roblox. But yeah, I feel like he has one. He used to play a lot more than he does now. But that was years ago. These days no one knows he has it except for Léonys. But sometimes when one of the other kids complains that someone was too mean to them on Roblox he logs on and, well, see,,, if the offender didn't have bannable offenses to work with already then suddenly,,,,, mysteriously,,,,,,,,, they start committing bannable offenses. For literally no reason whatsoever, they must have just felt like it, suddenly. Who knows! Anyway, reported.

(I.E. Hathellang would be a holy terror on the internet, somehow able to talk the trolls into getting themselves banned while only barely toeing the line himself. A power that could be used for good or evil. He uses it to back up his kid siblings on disagreements over the Walmartland makeup obby.)

Hathellang believes in Santa.

He does not! But he's really dedicated to keeping the Santa Experience alive for the younger kids. Also I feel like in a modern AU he'd be super into the Santa Clause movies.

Belharen:

Belharen is afraid of doing anything without their parent's permission.

Belharen is involved in the plot because she ran away from home. Without her parents' permission. That doesn't mean she's not afraid of doing things without her parents' permission. But she still does them.

Ferelin:

Ferelin is tumblr famous.

Oh my god yes. Spot on. IDK what I can add. His shitposts are legendary. Made a new friend. Have informed him that I do not know what a roof is. Think he has little enough knowledge of the Shire that this should fly with him. Eager to see how this plays out. Update: Friend in question visiting my house right now as we speak. Made comment about the roof. Think he remembers what I told him when we first met. Except funnier, probably, IDK. I wonder what his URL would be. He casually refers to his improbable and near-miraculous ability to heal basically anything by singing to it very stubbornly and people think it's some kind of extended bit. He lets them think so because they started to come up with theories about it and it's kind of funny.

Dahlia:

Dahlia knows fnaf lore.

Probably, lol. I feel like she wouldn't play the games, though. I've never played them, this is vibes-based. She just knows the lore. For some reason. Maybe she watches hour-long YouTube videos breaking it down to relax.

And because I've been thinking about her recently some Pegweneth:

Pegweneth instinctively cleans messes in their own house as well as other peoples.

Pegweneth judges people for having messes in their houses TBH. Privately. In her head. She does not clean them. Her house is not clean.

Pegweneth knocks people over by hugging them.

If she knows them very well and is confident they're okay with it.

Pegweneth is not good with social cues.

She knows what they are. She just thinks they're stupid she's above them she responded to them appropriately when she really didn't.

Hmmm, seems like a lot of people I would normally tag in these things have been tagged already. I know many people with OCs and I know that many of them dislike this sort of fandom/headcanon stuff. Open invitation to do it if you want to?

[renren-006]

right, your blog banner has inspired me to send in a request ✨ i’ve got an idea for a court gentry x reader fic based off of ‘you are in love’ by taylor swift. basically it’s like really cute moments between court and the reader throughout their relationship based on some of the lyrics to the song.

the start of the song. could perhaps be their first ever night together. “Coffee at midnight.” and “And your shoulders brush. No proof, one touch. But you felt enough” would maybe be their daily routines and such.

the second verse could be like i guess domestic moments between them and then the lyric about letting go of fears and ghosts could be court being more open and comfortable with the reader compared to the beginning of the relationship. there’s also a lyric in the bridge where it mentions keeping a pic of the subject in a office so i thought maybe that could apply for court keeping a polaroid of the reader (that claire took) when he goes on missions. if you could please make the fic really soft and fluffy that would be great

i’m sorry this is kinda long hahahaha but i just had to share the idea i had. keep up the great work! your fics are amazing :)

Loved | Sierra Six x Reader

warning: a litttleeee suggestive wording but other than that full love and fluff!

word count: 760

a/n: this is such a cute idea!! thank you for the request!! i really enjoyed writing this!! i’ll have to make another tag post for song story requests!! I love writing fluffy content but i also added a few...suggestive sentences because i coulden't help myself!!

(just like imagine it’s youuuu)

*Play "You are Loved" by Taylor Swift*

Small talk, he drives. Coffee at Midnight

When you both met it felt like a spark was ignited inside you. 

“Hi” a voice said behind you. Turning back you noticed a handsome face above you. Court stood there, taking a chance at love.

“Hello” you responded, Court took that as a welcoming sign to have him sit next to you. You two smiled at each other

When Court continued talking to you that night you knew maybe there was a change at some happy ending. When he offered to take you to his place you jumped out of the bar stool and happily obliged. You took him up on the offer of a coffee at his place when you two settled in. Soon after that coffee was forgotten. 

And your shoulders brush. No proof, one touch, but you felt enough. 

The morning routine was simple, bathrooms were shared between the two of you. Shoulders brushing in the morning as the two of you moved around the bathroom fiddling and getting ready. There was no proof to the Court or anyone outside of this bathroom that they had ever met, touched or loved. You felt it, the connection, the spark. You wanted it ignited between the two of you. Court couldn't admit it to himself yet. 

You keep his shirt, he keeps his word. And for once, you let go of your fears and your ghosts.One step not too much, said enough. 

Of course you kept Court's shirt, it was the only thing that kept you grounded when he was gone. You moved in a while after you met and fell hard for one another. You never asked questions, or bothered him about his scars, he would tell you about this other life he had when he was ready.

Court told you the minute he walked in that door after a mission. He still had a fresh cut on his forehead and he felt torn. He felt like the double life he was living needed to be a single one.  

“I…I work for the government, I do jobs for them. Hit jobs” he told you, moments after the door shut. He stumbled over his words, fear on his face. You were caught off guard eating in the kitchen when he stormed in the house. 

“I guessed you did something dangerous..” you told him trailing off. “I'm not leaving. Just because you have a dangerous job doesn't mean I'm going anywhere.” Court didn't say another word other than picking you up out of your chair and settling down on the couch, you in his lap, and just hugged you. The two of you stayed like that for hours, just holding one another. 

One night he wakes. Strange look on his face. Pauses then says “you're my best friend”. and you knew what it was he's in love

You were still up when Court rolled over to you. The book in your hand quickly forgotten by the look Court was giving you. 

“Baby?” you asked, worried he was having a stroke. You put your book down and laid beside him, the dim light from the moon giving your room a glow. He held your face. 

“You're my best friend,” he told you. As his hands stored your cheeks you cried. He loved you. It was clear in his words, his face, and his kisses he gave you. 

And he keeps pictures of you in his office downtown

Claire insisted on taking a picture of you that day. You were wearing a light blue dress, making you look angelic. You knew Court was leaving soon, and you wanted to look nice before swinging him off to his mission. Clair took a photo of you looking longingly at Court, she kept that one for her one jernal. 

The other one she gave to the Court. This one had you looking directly at the camera, full smile and a slight laugh to your face. He remembers that day like no other. How pretty you looked in the dress and how nice you looked at home without it. 

Court kept that photo in his wallet, keeping it with him on missions so he would always have your face to look at to remind him he was fighting to come home to you. He loved you. 

Cause you can hear it in the silence. You can feel it on the way home. You can see it with the lights out. You are in love, true love. You are in love.

[fallingtowers]

you are so pretty and I'm jealous and wish i could look like you do

been thinking about this ask all day. because it's really flattering, yeah, but also because it struck me that just a couple of days ago i said this exact thing about someone else. and it's like... whenever someone expresses attraction to me or envy over my looks or whatever, my kneejerk reaction is always to be dismissive, because, after all, whoever it is is not as well acquainted with my body and all its flaws as i am. but if i can feel that way about myself, who's to say a person whose appearance i envy can't feel the same about themself? after all, surely they're more well acquainted with their body and its flaws than me, right? the fact of the matter, of course, is that nobody's appearance is "flawed" -- this stuff is all totally subjective, and informed by a bunch of bullshit norms and beauty standards which in turn are informed by every flavor of bigotry under the sun. if i told someone i found them beautiful and got a dismissive response, it would be a little frustrating, because of course i wouldn't actually be able to prove that they're beautiful. but if someone else tells me i'm beautiful, i can control my own reaction -- and if i try to get out of own head and accept that their point of view is no more or less valid than mine, then we'll both walk away happier than if i dismiss the compliment out of hand because it doesn't align with the stuff i've internalized as fact. all this to say, thank you, anon -- i'm frequently unhappy with many aspects of my appearance, but it's good to be reminded that the things i feel aren't necessarily always true. and this applies to you as well. i appreciate the compliment, and i get feeling envious of other people, but do try to get out of your head every now and then and remember that all the mean things you think about yourself aren't immutable truths just because they feel that way, ok? love you. kiss

[starlitangels]

(Still) Not a Tank - Part 2

I promised @zozo-01 that I’d do a part 2 for (Still) Not a Tank and here it is! It’s a lot shorter than part 1 but there are still things I could explore in this AU... we’ll see 1.9k words

—

I edged carefully into the classroom, leaning my left shoulder blade against the doorframe. Making sure I was tilted so the tattoo he’d tried so hard not to look at on my upper right arm was in full view. I folded my arms over my chest and just watched. I had no clue how he didn’t even notice I was there. I was quiet, but not stealthy.

“—not perfect, of course,” Sam was saying, eyes focused on the computer monitor a laptop was plugged into at the front of the room, projecting a slide onto the board. “Healin’ can’t perfectly seal up wounds that are too deep. It can leave a scar if the wound, naturally healed, would have scarred. But, it can reduce the intensity of said scarring and make it fade faster if the healin’ magic is applied properly to larger wounds. Now, applyin’ healin’ magic properly to larger wounds—” He looked up and cut himself off as his eyes met mine. I heard his heartbeat speed up. He cleared his throat. “—is gonna be the subject of the lesson on Friday. Thank y’all for comin’. I’ll see you at the clinic on Friday. Class dismissed.”

The students all stood in a wave. I stepped into the classroom and away from the door so everyone could flood past me on their way out. Most of them barely glanced at me. Healer specialist and Freelancer auras brushed against my magic as they walked by.

Before I knew it, Sam and I were alone in the classroom.

“What’re you doin’ here, darlin’?” Sam asked, shutting his laptop and stowing it in a leather messenger bag.

I smirked. “It’s been three days. I went to the clinic for that follow-up you wanted and you weren’t there.”

Sam closed his eyes. “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath. “Slipped my mind that was today. I knew we said three days I just… didn’t realize that time had already passed.”

Pushing off the doorframe with my hip, I crossed the classroom with my arms still folded. He continued to pack up his things.

I pouted my lips and looked up at him through my lashes. “Awww,” I whined. “Don’t tell me you forgot about me already?” I couldn’t finish the sentence without a grin starting to form on my mouth.

Sam chuckled. “How could I forget about you, darlin’? Vamp damn near bleeds out in my bathtub and thinks I’m gonna forget…” He shook his head, but he was smiling. “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

I shrugged, my grin twisting into a smirk. “Been told that once or twice.”

“C’mon. There’s an exam room down the hall. Usually it’s more of a demonstration room, but we can do a quick follow-up exam in there.” He jerked his head toward the door. I followed him out, half-a-step behind. His heartbeat was fast, but slower than I remembered from our first encounter. We’d both been pretty stressed at the time.

We stepped into the exam room and Sam gestured at the patient half-bed for me. I boosted myself up onto it.

“Get in any other fights in the past couple days, darlin’?” he asked.

I snickered. “You will be proud to hear that I have not.”

“Good,” he said. His eyes started roving my bare arms. Lingering for a few extra moments on the tattoo on my upper right arm. I fought down a smirk, biting my lower lip. Sam’s dark green eyes flicked to mine, then quickly away. “What’s that look for?” He sounded grumpy about something.

“What look?”

“Look like you’re tryin’ not to laugh.”

I shrugged as he flipped the stethoscope off his neck and popped the ends into his ears. “Just noticed you seem fascinated by my tattoo.”

“Didn’t know vamps could have ‘em, that’s all.” His blood was rushing faster and his heartbeat spiked. “Thought the healin’ factor was too strong and would push the ink out.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve had this one for twenty-something years. Since before I turned. Hence the, uh… well. The design.” Canis Major directly under a crescent moon. A tattoo that screamed werewolf for any other empowered person who saw it. A memento of a life long lost.

Sam grunted. “Makes sense, I guess.” He raised the bell of the stethoscope. “Mind pulling up that shirt?”

I bounced an eyebrow. “Wanting a look at the rest of this body, doctor?” I teased.

He scoffed. “Are you this much of a nightmare with anyone else?”

I threw my head back, laughing. “Depends.” I stripped my tank top off. Sam placed the bell against my chest, listening to my heart. “Usually I’m only a nightmare with people who don’t piss me off.”

“Understandable.” He beckoned. “Lean forward so I can listen to your lungs from behind.”

I did as instructed.

“Deep breath in… and out… in… and out… in… and out… and in… out… one more… and out,” Sam guided softly, listening to each lobe of my lungs. He withdrew. “You can sit straight and put your shirt back on.” He pulled the stethoscope out of his ears and looped it back over the back of his neck.

I sat straight but didn’t put my tank top back on for a moment, smirking. Sam looked away. I pulled it over my head, snickering.

“Whatever you think you’re tryin’-a do, darlin’—”

“I’m not trying anything,” I replied playfully.

“Sure,” he retorted sarcastically.

“I’m not. Just… noticed you don’t seem to… mind the sight of me without a shirt on.”

“You’re a nightmare.”

“Vampire. Comes with the territory. Or something like that. Creatures of the night or whatever.”

He scoffed, still examining me. “You look to be in perfect health now, darlin’. Thanks for followin’ up. I’m sure you got things you need to get back to.” He stepped back, his heart was still pounding so loud I’d be able to hear it from my house on the other damn side of Dahlia.

I—reluctantly—hopped off the half-bed. “Yeah. I need to get to Wonder World. Play, uh, guard dog, if you’ll pardon the former-shifter pun. Every time I end up watching the park something inevitably happens.”

“Like what?”

“Well… couple Halloweens ago, some college kids snuck in. Ended up falling through some loose pavement down into a cellar where Adam got what was coming to him. Found his bones. I had to trance the both of them to forget it happened and get off the property. God, I thought Alexis was gonna tear my head off.” I snorted. “That’s the most memorable one. Usually it’s just random wildlife jumping off a track or an old arcade stall roof and landing on me. Never happens to anyone else.”

“Maybe they can tell you got a wolf’s spirit in you, still,” Sam suggested.

I turned my gaze to the tile floor. “Maybe,” I muttered. “Anyway. I’ll let you get back to your evening. Goodnight, Sam.”

“G’night, darlin’.”

I rolled my joints, stretched, and bolted out of the room at top speed. Not slowing down until I made it to Wonder World.

Where Vincent—of all people to be lurking at Wonder World of all places—was leaning against the brick divider between two turnstiles, playing with one of the many rings he usually wore idly. “You need to stop flirting with that healer. He’s, like, twice your age.” There was a playful, teasing smile on his face.

I snorted and hopped the turnstile before leaning against it to look at Vincent. “Okay, one: you flirted with him the second you met him, so don’t be a hypocrite. And two: no he’s not. He’s like two years older than me, five max. It’s not that weird.”

“It is when you still look mid-twenties and he’s obviously in his forties.”

I scoffed. “You’re such a hypocrite. You flirt with anything with a pulse that you find even a little attractive.”

Vincent pushed off the bricks. “Just… remember you’re biologically immortal. He’s not.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s not gonna… be anything, Vin,” I said. “It’s just flirting. Just… messing around. Hell, I’ll probably never see him again after tonight.”

Vincent regarded me for a moment. “If you think so.”

I rolled my eyes. “Go home to your partner, Vin. I know how much you don’t like being here. Message received. Tootle-oo.”

Vincent regarded me for a moment. “Just… be careful.”

I blew him a sarcastic kiss and wiggled my fingers.

He rolled his eyes and took off at top speed.

—

Sam lingered in the exam room for several minutes after his new vampire acquaintance left, trying to get his heart to stop pounding. Get ahold of yourself, Collins, he thought sharply. They’re a vampire and you’re already dangerously close to past your prime.

He shook his head hard and moved to leave the room. That smile, the peeks of those blindingly bright fangs, sprung up in his mind. He clenched his jaw and blinked several times. They were a nightmare. Flirty for no reason and way too young for him, despite actually only being two years younger. Alluringly attractive and they obviously knew it. Playful—teasing, but not toying with him. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but they weren’t playing with his emotions just to play.

He made it all the way to the end of the hall before their silver eyes glittered with mirth in his mind’s eye.

They’re a vampire, he reminded himself. There’s no point in gettin’ attached.

Still, as he walked to his truck, he couldn’t shake those eyes or that smile. Couldn’t shake the way his mind wandered over their skin when they’d pulled their tank top off. The lingering scars magic couldn’t heal over, the muscles he still couldn’t get over, the thought of that tattoo on their arm—

Stop, he chastised, climbing into the truck. You’ll probably never see them again.

Why would he? Vampires tended to keep to themselves and their clans. And despite this one’s playful flirting, they seemed to be socially reserved.

He tried to talk himself out of his beating heart the whole way home.

But when he stepped inside, his eyes went right to the front door. Where they’d stood on the porch with him after he’d healed them. Where their smile had wormed its way into his closed off heart in the starlight.

Unbidden, an idle fantasy of that tattoo beneath his lips—his teeth—wandered into his brain.

No, he thought, shutting the thought down immediately. Stop.

He shook his head and went to go shower. He glanced at the bathtub in the guest bathroom as he passed. He’d bleached most of the bloodstains out of the ceramic, but one drop had been stubborn. A ring of brown-red where the edges had dried still lingered. Like that piece of this vampire that wouldn’t leave him alone.

He leaned against the doorframe.

“Darlin’?” He sighed. “I know you’re busy watchin’ the amusement park tonight. But… if… some other night… you’d be interested in stoppin’ by… I wouldn’t mind seeing you again, if you wouldn’t.”

He went to go get in the shower.

—

Rubbing his eyes, Sam ducked into his kitchen through the garage door.

“Hey stranger,” a voice said.

He jumped and looked up.

Sitting on his counter island, fangy smile and silver eyes gleaming—

His vampire darlin’.

—

Tag list: @darlin-collins @thegoldenlittlerose @shellssstuff

[ultimateinferno]

Something I learned recently as an artist that took me 10 years to settle in is how to balance the different parts of art. I don't mean like composition, value, form, etc. I mean different exercises that are in complete opposition with one another are equally important. Honest to God just learned this right now.

Like, there's taking things slow, really chewing on artistic principles. Doing studies, breaking down reference images and going through the meticulous push and pull of refining your drawing. That's what I personally have basically been doing for a while now.

However, there's also a virtue of throwing all of that to the wind and seeing just how fast you can get stuff done. One of my art professors for a life drawing class told a story about a pottery class. He said that in that class that professor would tell the students at the beginning of the semester they could choose to be graded between two options. The first was quality. They had to make a single pot for the entire semester, and would be graded on how well made that one pot was. The second was quantity. When the semester was over, the professor would take out a scale, put all the pots on it, and if it reached a certain weight they'd pass.

Our professor told us that the students who picked the quantity option ended up producing better pots by the end of the semester than the quality students. Because the cycle of making and completing pieces was invaluable. They were able to bounce back from their mistakes much more quickly because all they cared about was getting stuff done.

This life drawing class ended up being my boon and bane. At this point, I was a "quality" student. I'd take my time with pieces pushing and pulling at the lines to get things just right. When I signed up for the class, my most common subject was people, so I thought it would be easy. However, the thing about life drawings is that there's an actual model before you, and they're not always very good at staying still, especially depending on the pose. So when the 20 or so minutes were up, I would have like a single arm done and nothing else. I had to push myself to achieve something in those 20 minutes. I was the slowest artist in the class. I knew much more theory and fundamentals, but none of that mattered cause I had nothing to show for it. Then poses started getting shorter. 15. 10. 8. 5. 2 minute poses. There was no time to analyze I simply had to draw.

Over the course of that semester I got better of reaching those time limits. By the time it was over, I put down my charcoal and returned to my drawing tablet. Art took me so long that I can only focus so much on an outlet at a time. I could either take classes or draw in my free time. Never both. When I started drawing over the summer, I noticed something: I was faster. My poses were better. I was able to sketch, ink, color and shade a piece in three days. That never happens, it would take me a month to get things just right beforehand. Yet now, even with art pieces where I was allowed to be slow, my speed improved greatly.

And this is because I was put in a class that looked at me and said "I don't want quality. I just need finished pieces. You need to turn in a piece every day." Yet this isn't the "lesson" I'm talking about. I think it's actually very much both. Quality and quantity.

You need to spend long hours breaking down anatomy or values or other fundamentals, to really digest them. You also need to put your feet to the fire and just get shit done. They're both very important skills to learn. Focusing on quality builds up your repertoire and artistic encyclopedia so you can produce artwork from a place of understanding. Focusing on quantity, meanwhile, is all about going through the motions. Learning when to accept "good enough" and apply the knowledge gained from your long-form studies and turn them into instincts. This lets you go back to the studies and build upon your knowledge using the shortcuts gained, continue building up more details to your skills.

Without ever focusing on quality, you will be repeating the same artistic mistakes over and over again with minimal improvement, never actually learning anything.

Without focusing on quantity you'll be so caught up in the details and the studies that you'll be stuck at step 1 indefinitely, breaking down each new part and be cursed to never finish a piece.

Focusing on one is already hard enough, so two would be difficult. However, as a part of the greater process, you don't need to focus on both at once. So long as you keep cycling through taking your time to get things right, and forcing yourself to get things done on dietary occasions, each practice will feed into themselves and each other far more than anything in isolation.

[idiotwhowritesshipstuff]

Oooh you write for SDRA2? Can I have Yuki with a reader who reveals to him that they're in void? Like maybe they try to warn him or do something to halt voids plans? The concept runs around in my head rent free lol

Oooooh! So I was tempted to refuse this request for the sole fact that YUKI DOESNT DESERVE THIS BRO but I decided to give it a try as a sort of writing exercise. I had to rewatch some trial aftermaths to figure out the best way for him to react and when to place this scenario. I decided to place this situation after Emma's execution. I was originally gonna do it after chapter 3 but I think he would be too mad and as mentioned in my rules screaming and aggression at the reader is something I just can't write (personal reasons :P) and chapter 4 is too late.

I went for a more platonic angle as I think it works better as a friend scenario though there's no harm in interpreting here that Yuki and reader have romantic feelings for each other, I just didn't focus on that for this scenario.

I'm a bit disappointed in myself over how this scenario went as I don't think I fully realized its potential but I hope you enjoy!

Bonus note: I FORGOT THE HEADER TEXT MAN

Mod Monaca

TW: Reader's past is kept vague but considering they are a Void member it is described as being rather traumatic and has a mention of wanting to commit suicide. Yuki will unfortunately force the story out of them and while it is for justifiable reasons this may be uncomfortable to some so be warned. None of the TWs are written graphically but the warning still applies.

SDRA2 Yuki Maeda finding out reader is a void

The events of the second trial had left him severely shaken up. Not just because of the tragic losses of 4 of his classmates but the fact that so far, barring Mikado, Void has consisted of people who were famous celebrities. Just what was Void's goal? Why did they set up this killing game? How did Mikado convince such famous people to join his organization?

As the killing game carried on, these questions continued to plague him. He thought with Hajime's death, the voids would turn against Mikado and refuse to participate in the killing game anymore but Emma's words about murder being the only answer for Voids were chilling and no amount of support from Sora, Shinji and Setsuka let him shake off those eerie words. Yuki needed answers to his questions, he just never expected that you of all people would be the one to give him the answers he was looking for.

You two hadn't known each other for very long yet but you were the one he trusted the most in his class. Whenever he wasn't off training with Shinji, he would investigate with you and try to get to know you better. Despite your kind nature, you weren't the most open about your life prior to the killing school field trip. Yuki was nice enough not to pry since bringing up the past seemed to be something that caused you a lot of distress and he wasn't someone like Kokoro who was trained in mental health, all he could do in the event of upsetting you is change the subject.

He didn't know what to think when you asked him to meet in private, he trusted you a lot and believed in your close bond but considering what went down with Emma and Kokoro, he almost thought about bringing Shinji or Sora with him to your meeting. He decided to trust you wouldn't hurt him and simply told Shinji and Sora about his meeting with you so if you did decide to backstab him, they would know where to find him.

The best way to describe Yuki after your meeting where you confessed your true identity is exhausted. After the initial wave of shock over the news, he was gathering his courage to support you through your defection from Void when you chose to reveal to him what Void's goal was: To break his mind with a killing game and replace him with Master Utsuro.

It sounded so farfetched, the very idea that a group of people could come together to try and bring someone back to life by breaking someone down to an empty husk by committing murder in horrific ways so that the target would be so traumatized a new person could steal their body. This kind of scheme would be something he'd see in anime, not in real life!

Yuki's inability to properly grasp the reality of your group's plans for him would work in your favor a bit as he would be in such disbelief over the idea he wouldn't fully process the full implications of what success would've been to you so when you're done telling him everything, he would tell you to tell everyone else in the group about Void while he went to lie down in his room.

It would take him awhile to want to speak to you again after that break he took, Shinji would need to talk him into it and he would be occupied for a while as he would need to guard Nikei and Iroha who were beyond displeased at your betrayal but when he does get around to speaking to Yuki, Yuki would seek you out to try and understand why you ever consented to Void's plans.

Normally he would be more patient with you about your past but after everything that happened, he would demand you tell him why even if it hurt you. He would listen attentively to your story about what your life was like prior to meeting Utsuro, albeit with grit teeth as you described how hellish life was for you and how you just wanted to die at such a young age so the pain would go away. Your early childhood really gives him a new perspective about his own life, he's always wished for a more exciting life and desired to be something special but hearing how you had to live in an environment comparative to hell on Earth in order to obtain your ultimate talent from a man with powers that broke the very laws of nature, he's grateful for being an average high school student.

As shaken as he is over your true identity, he would comfort you after hearing about what drove you to participate in a killing game. He isn't sure how he can support you after you all escape Utsuroshima but learning that you weren't some heartless psycho willing to kill high schoolers for selfish reasons and were instead a person driven to despair clinging to whatever hope they had gives him the resolve to trust in you once more and mend your relationship.

[arowitharrows]

hello again, recent anon here! first of all, i wanted to thank you for your wonderful response. i did read the article you linked to, and i must say that i was certainly ignorant of the very serious ways, pertaining to medical/health care, that people are affected by hostility (and ignorance) towards asexuality. i would also like to put forth some context for my outlook on things, just in that i was raised in what i've been told was an unusual and very sheltered environment, so while as i've grown older there are some things i've realized on my own that i may see as the norm that many do not, and it's actually my own mistake. i am a bit surprised that i had never some across this information online before, but i suppose i may have overly cultivated my online experience to be rather narrow, so upon reading your response, i realized that this might be one of those things where i just hadn't come to the realization on my own, and I decided to discuss it with a much more worldly cousin of mine who i am close to, for a better perspective, and she told me that what you said is generally true, and that a majority of people really do just experience sexual and romantic attraction like, from the get go. it was a bit embarrassing to realize that, but it's probably for the better. while that certainly was not my main take away from reading what you said, i sort of feel like my bubble has been burst. like i was really naive about that sort of thing. since i'm hiding behind anon, i will say that i'm almost 24 and it's really surreal to learn, like what else do i not know? that's apparently common knowledge? at times like these i recall that my father always said, "a wise man knows that he knows not", and i feel a poignant sense of failure to keep that with me as he would have tried to impart. your point about the time and effort put into books/movies/etc with those sort of themes makes alot of sense that i never even considered. my thoughts on the matter only ever went as far as "well they do that to sell more things, but only certain types of people would buy that anyways". i see that my view on all this has been severely limited. I really appreciated your anecdotes about your own life experience, and the different perspective they contained. in my life, few people openly spoke of sexual matters, and certainly not at length, but i can definitely see how being in an environment of your peers that did could lead you to feel how you described. i've been a total dunce here, like this is a part of an overarching "different people have different lives" common sense sort of thing that's gone way over my head in a really messed up way. the only people i've spoken to at any great length in many years are my relatives, so my understanding of community in a general sense may be a bit warped there. besides, all that, i would also like to say that i had not even previously thought about the ways that considering any ace identity to be a reaction of any sort could overlap with rad fem politics, another great oversight on my part. it is obvious now that ignoring these issues and pushing them out of my mind when i hear about them is not a correct course of action. i wonder how much of this train-of-thought rant would be an issue if i had delved deeper into other people's lived experiences pertaining to these matters when i first learned they existed. i will 100% be taking your advice on listening to more people about this all, and plan to read more about it immediately. i'm sure, based off even just this one interaction, that i have much more to understand about these things than i ever could have guessed i didn't know. I may even seek out some videos on the subject online as well. (as a small note too, i would like to say to the singular commenter on the post that while i'm doubtful any such label could apply to myself, your suggestion is certainly something i will take under consideration.) So for now, i thank you again for your gracious and eloquent reply. I have found it to be quite enlightening, and I bid you a great new year!

Well I am glad I could help a bit! The context of your upbringing makes sense and I'm certain you aren't the first or only person to go through such a "bubble bursting" process, it's a part of life and of opening yourself up to new perspectives. Also don't worry too much about the radfem train of thought thing, it is not a well known or discussed topic and I would not expect many people to be aware of it. I did not believe that that's where you were coming from, it just felt important to mention in that context.

I also wish you all the best in the new year, and thanks for listening and reaching out to learn more about the topic!

[redjennies]

me, talking to my friends from the mutual aid collective: yeah, obviously revolution begins not in destruction, but in gardens. destroying the exploitative system we live under is necessary, of course, and effective organizing especially by those who most need it will inevitably bring down state violence and we should be prepared for that in order to protect each other, but anarchism is not about violence. it is about building a community outside of hierarchies where everything is for all, and yes, fighting for it both in defense and through the very act of creation. still, it pisses me off so much that so-called leftists on Twitter were so comfortable making guillotine jokes to union organizers instead of learning absolutely anything that helps and applying it to their lives. like god, equating anarchism with just throwing bombs and nothing else is, counter-productively, exactly what the State wants you to believe anarchism is.

me, possessed by the spirit of Louis Lingg the second i see the basic principles of anarchism smeared by a useless left-of-lib: [...] It is not murder, however, of which you have convicted me. The judge has stated that much only this morning in his resume of the case, and Grinnell has repeatedly asserted that we were being tried not for murder, but for anarchy, so the condemnation is—that I am an anarchist!

What is anarchy? This is a subject which my comrades have explained with sufficient clearness, and it is unnecessary for me to go over it again. They have told you plainly enough what our aims are. The state’s attorney, however, has not given you that information. He has merely criticized and condemned, not the doctrines of anarchy, but our methods of giving them practical effect, and even here he has maintained a discreet silence as to the fact that those methods were forced upon us by the brutality of the police. Grinnell’s own proffered remedy for our grievances is the ballot and combination of trades unions, and Ingham has even avowed the desirability of a six-hour movement! But the fact is, that at every attempt to wield the ballot, at every endeavor to combine the efforts of workingmen, you have displayed the brutal violence of the police club, and this is why I have recommended rude force, to combat the ruder force of the police. [...]

While I, as I have stated above, believe in force for the sake of winning for myself and fellow-workmen a livelihood such as men ought to have, Grinnell, on the other hand, through his police and other rogues, has suborned perjury in order to murder seven men, of whom I am one. Grinnell had the pitiful courage here in the courtroom, where I could not defend myself, to call me a coward! The scoundrel! A fellow who has leagued himself with a parcel of base, hireling knaves, to bring me to the gallows. Why? For no earthly reason save a contemptible selfishness — a desire to 'rise in the world“ — to ”make money," forsooth.

This wretch — who, by means of the perjuries of other wretches is going to murder seven men — is the fellow who calls me “coward”! And yet you blame me for despising such “defenders of the law” such unspeakable hypocrites! Anarchy means no domination or authority of one man over another, yet you call that “disorder.” A system which advocates no such “order” as shall require the services of rogues and thieves to defend it you call “disorder.” [...]

I tell you frankly and openly, I am for force. I have already told Captain Schaack, “if they use cannons against us, we shall use dynamite against them.” I repeat that I am the enemy of the “order” of today, and I repeat that, with all my powers, so long as breath remains in me, I shall combat it. [...] You laugh! Perhaps you think, “you’ll throw no more bombs”; but let me assure you I die happy on the gallows, so confident am I that the hundreds and thousands to whom I have spoken will remember my words; and when you shall have hanged us, then — mark my words — they will do the bombthrowing! In this hope do I say to you: I despise you. I despise your order, your laws, your force-propped authority. Hang me for it! [x]

[thedysphoriadiaries]

17 December 2023, 1:35am

It was much quieter earlier yesterday.

Again, I found myself alone, in a house that was quiet. The last time I felt like this was when I was ten. We moved a mattress outside in the hall, and my brother and I slept on it. By then, Mom and Dad had quit asking us to study, despite the fact that, at that age, we were ahead of our peers.

Ten years on, and the quietness gives me the same feeling. It's just that this time, I know that the din of arguments will not reach me, and that the same brother I spent time with is separated from me by a wall of concrete and a gulf of sadness.

Regardless, it's the same feeling I dread, when I have to come to terms with my own existence, independent of other people.

Who am I?

It's a question that, for twenty years, I have struggled to answer.

I tell my counsellor that I feel like a tape machine, with a set amount of tape to run. After each reel of tape runs out, I have to replace it, and the cycle starts anew. I look back, and I'm unable to decipher the thoughts of previous me - oftentimes an alien, despite being me.

Was I really like that? Why don't I remember that happening? Why don't I feel ownership over that memory?

It's difficult at times. Horribly difficult, actually, to do anything, when I can't even trust my own memories. What was I feeling toward my partner? Envy? Lust? Which came first?

And within each conversation I have with my friends, who tell me that they are disappointed in my unwillingness to disclose my affliction of Unidentified Disorder™ with the Medical Officers at the Medical Classification Center...

I sense disappointment, and truth be told, I'm almost waiting for them to tell me that I was not like that.

...

And of course, they'd be right.

I was once a person who would have campaigned for men's rights. Or at least, the male equivalent of what women had. Feminism.

Actually, that was a major theme of my musings during my time in secondary education - the male equivalent of what women had.

My partner came along, four years later, when I was seventeen. She approached me during a karaoke session organized by my friend group, and wanted to try being in a relationship, with me. It was music we bonded over.

To her, it was a matter of expression.

To me, it is all I am.

And the snowball started rolling. A snowball of feelings, that would lead me to this point in time, eight months after putting that patch on my body. A whole year, and two months, of active questioning.

...

I still remember being secretly jealous, or feeling like I'm living in the shadow of the girls there, who enjoyed themselves, and sang their hearts out.

I had long lost the ability to reach the notes they could, by then.

But I hide, behind the walls, the guises of ignorance. Behind the guises of snobbish better-than-you-ness, because I'm too scared to admit something, something akin to a dark secret of male psychology:

That men secretly envy women.

That men try to embody that which is more aesthetically pleasing (in subjective terms), or secretly wish for the ability to nurture life within their bodies.

But ultimately, we must come to the conclusion that, as men, we cannot do such things. So we resort to the next best thing:

Ignorance, subjugation, and control.

We subjugate those we fear, to feel a false sense of security. Through ignorance, we erase others' experiences. We become gods of our own consciences, and god can't repent.

I'm scared to admit that these things apply to me too, because, fundamentally, once you strip away my clothing, mannerisms, skin, flesh, organs, and bones, I'm born male. And by virtue of that and the inherent masculinity I embody, I am privy to that dark secret of male psychology, no matter how many times I say that I'm not like the other guys.

There is no escape.

...

Ultimately, even though my past has been peppered with not-so-typical things for guys - the jolts of euphoria I felt learning about a girl's life, my gazing into the empty girl's washroom, knowing I cannot be in such a place, while wondering what goes on in there (social dynamics wise, etc.)...

I must accept that I am not privy to those things.

And at the end of everything, I know who I am: A kid who's too scared to be themselves. A kid who's too scared to express the unexpressed.

That's where I've been, for my whole life.

...

I'm digging myself into a really deep hole, sorry if I'm sounding a little deranged. Maybe I should go out and think about stuff.

cool song time:

[darkened-storm]

Tai friendship drabble

Instead she knelt on the grass of the soccer pitch, thumbing through the pictures she’d taken on her DSLR while Tai practiced. 

Throughout middle school, Steph had been a member of a number of after school clubs, but it wasn’t until she’d signed up for the school newspaper that Steph had discovered her love for photography. Tai, of course, was happy to act as a practice photography subject - as long as it meant he could play more soccer. 

“So what did Nishijima want to talk to you about?” 

Tai let the ball bounce against his chest, then once against his knee before dropping it expertly onto the tip of his boot. The ball soared through the air and neatly between the two goal posts. 

He makes it look so easy, she thought to herself, somewhat enviously. 

“He wanted to know if I’d finished my college application essays.”

The ball rolled slowly back to him and he toed it upwards, bouncing it expertly on his knee. 

“What did you tell him?” 

“I told him the truth - that I haven’t even thought about apply to colleges yet.”

“Tai,” she admonished. “You really need to start taking things more seriously.” 

“Yeah, I know…” 

He flopped onto the grass beside her leaned back on his elbows to look up at the sky. In the Digital World, the sky was often filled with all sorts of meteorological abnormalities from auroras to meteors, and sometimes, the sky of another world. In comparison, the sky of the real world was decidedly ordinary. 

“What if we don’t know?” 

Steph looked up from her camera. “What if we don’t know what?” 

“What if we have no idea what we want to do with the rest of our lives?” 

Steph shrugged, unsure how to answer such a loaded question. She was, however, glad that Tai was finally opening up to her, so she placed her camera down on the grass and lay down beside him. 

He craned his neck to look at her. “You want to be a doctor, yeah?” 

Steph nodded. Unlike Joe, her decision to follow in her mother’s footsteps and become a doctor was only a recent one. “I think I could see myself working in a hospital,” she said. “Maybe with little kids. I’d like to spend my life doing something I know matters.”

“That’s the thing - I don’t know what I want to do with my life,” he told her. “I’m only seventeen, and everyone is acting like I’m supposed to have my whole life planned.” 

“Well … maybe not your whole life,” Steph reasoned. “Maybe just start by declaring a major. And I’d suggested avoiding the sciences. I don’t think Izzy’s eyebrows have fully grown back from the time you accidentally mixed the potassium with the sulfuric acid in Chemistry.”

Tai laughed. “How was I supposed to know it would catch on fire?” He rolled over on the grass, his grin fading and his expression growing serious. “Do you ever think about them?” he asked. “Agumon and the others?”

Steph nodded. Of course she thought about Patamon every single day. “It’s been over a year now, and we’ve still been unable to open a Digital Gate,” she said sadly. “

Tai sighed. “When Agumon was around, I always knew who I was and what I had to do,” he explained. “Without him … I just feel lost.”