#it kills me that i've been saying image image description for years

[2boldlyqueer]

This has popped off more than most of my posts, so I want to add some resources for folks about IDs.

The number one thing that helped me start writing IDs was this image:

[ImageID: A guide to writing alt text, titled "Writing Alt Text". There are five bubbles of different colors underneath with writing in them. "Identify who" is in green, "expression" is in pink, "description" is in blue, "color" is in yellow, and "interesting features" is in orange. Beneath that is a photo of a capybara with an image description next to it that reads, "A capybara looking relaxed in a hot spa. Yellow yuzu fruits are floating in the water, and one is balanced on the top of the capybara's head. This text is marked with different colors that show what part of the ID describes which of the important components. At the bottom it says "Source: veroniiiica.com" and the word Puzzle as a stylized logo. /EndID]

After seeing that, I checked the source for the image, and found a very helpful website called Veroniiiica (Veronica with Four Eyes). It's a site by someone with low vision about all sorts of visual accessibility. I recommend exploring her posts to learn more about life with and accommodations for visually impaired folks, but if you only read one she's got the most comprehensive guide to IDs and alt text:

She also gets into the difference between alt text and image descriptions, which is important to understand, as they are different things! I find alt text much more difficult than image descriptions because they need to be as brief as possible.

Tumblr thankfully allows a longer alt text, so if I don't have the energy to be super concise I can still put something there. However, only the person who is uploading the image on Tumblr can add alt text, so it's better to put something there even if it doesn't hit every category in the image above.

For formatting, this is a good post talking about formatting of image descriptions and alt text. The rest of Lane's blog, @askablindperson, is full of helpful info about image descriptions and other blindness related resources! The OP, @normal-thoughts-official, also has a lot of great accessibility related stuff on their blog.

The very short summary of that post is that you should include alt text AND image descriptions whenever possible, try to keep the ID as close to the image itself as possible, make sure to put ID and End ID at the beginning and end, only use regular text (don't make it tiny, italic, a different color, or things like that), and that the very common practice of using brackets isn't necessary. Also, don't put them under a "keep reading"! Those often glitch or break, so you can't guarantee everyone who needs the ID will be able to get to it.

If you still want to read more about how to ID, this masterpost by @cepheusgalaxy is awesome (and helped me refind the specific resources I'm highlighting): https://www.tumblr.com/cepheusgalaxy/752115718263373824/image-descriptions-tips-tuts-masterpost

On a final note, the two best things for improving your IDs are to write a lot of them, and to read other people's! Many of us who do descriptions will tag the posts they ID with something like "described". In addition to anyone mentioned in this post already and anyone who made posts in the masterpost, I recommend looking at any of these blogs. Many have resources of their own on IDing, and some are just folks I've noticed are particularly good at IDs and could remember. @accessible-art @cannondisabledcharacters @can-i-make-image-descriptions @accessibleaesthetics @online-accessibility-sideblog @disabled-dragoon @disabledsun

Listen, I know we're all exhausted, but we gotta get better about adding image descriptions to disability related stuff. Everyone should be IDing everything anyways, but there's a particularly cruel irony in disability related stuff not being accessible to folks with low/no vision.

[thalassomania]

what is “what happens next” about if you don’t mind me asking? :)

i've been sitting on this ask for a while now because WHERE! DO I! BEGIN!!!!

ok. so. what happens next is a currently ongoing webcomic by max graves, beginning late in 2021. it is a story told in multiple chapters about multiple characters, but one could argue that its protagonist is milo holliday. milo is a trans man, pastel blogger, toy customizer... and accomplice to a murder.

one of the first panels of the comic is a screenshot of the dni page on milo's tumblr, which got me IMMEDIATELY interested in the comic because it's such a unique way of storytelling:

[image description available for the above]

and we get a lot more pages like this that are screenshots of websites, social media profiles, and the like. the comic is a mixture of in-person interactions, online communication, and occasional flashbacks, all of which are important pieces of the story.

so when they were teenagers, milo's best friend griffin petty killed two people, and milo helped mutilate one of the bodies. while griffin was sent to prison, milo spent years in a psychiatric institution that stunted his emotional growth and forever altered his view of the world. a drawing he makes while institutionalized provides a window into milo's perceptions of the event:

[image description available for the above]

the whole comic is an uncomfortably accurate reflection of mid-2010s tumblr culture, right down to the sanrio traumacore and crytyping. milo's suffering is multifaceted: in reference to the people harassing him online, he says "it doesn't feel like they hate me for what i did... it feels like they hate me for the way i am," referring to his being an autistic trans man. and given that many of his detractors seem to come from sites like kiwifarms (notorious for its transphobia and ableism), he isn't entirely wrong! but at the same time, his relentless depictions of himself as the victim erase his contributions to haylie's death and the ways he's made himself and others' problems worse.

not every part of the comic is about milo, though! i'm only scratching the surface of it here: all of those pages and links are for the first part, titled "dog names." in the second part, "someone else," we're introduced to gage ludemann, a gore blogger and true crime fan who has entered a long-distance relationship with griffin, and once again, screenshots are used to masterful effect:

[image description available for the above]

but screenshots and characters' drawings are one thing, and max's art is another. starting in the third part, "no matter what," panels are shown in full color, and his color choices are great. what i really love, though, is the amount of detail max puts into character design and facial expressions. i could show you so many different panels that i think show off max's art, but i'll try to narrow it down to one:

[image description available for the above]

soooo yeah!! i have SO MANY THOUGHTS about this webcomic and i keep trying to get close friends to read it, haha. i've read a lot of webcomics and i can say with certainty that there is NOTHING out there quite like what happens next. it's a story about true crime fanaticism, psychological trauma, social media presences, existing as a transgender person, and so much more. the comic is currently on its fifth part, "you'll all be sorry," which seems to be about the characters vikki escamilla and xandra blumberg. if you decide to check it out please feel free to tell me all about it! i'm not connected to the comic at all, but i really love it and i think everything about it is just fascinating.

and max graves, if you're somehow reading this... hiiiiii i'm a huge fan!!! love your work!!! i hope i've represented it at least somewhat accurately here!

@kukai

[hit-song-showdown]

Year-End Poll #74: 2023

[Image description: a collage of photos of the 10 musicians and musical groups featured in this poll. In order from left to right, top to bottom: Morgan Wallen, Miley Cyrus, SZA, Taylor Swift, Metro Boomin and 21 Savage, Rema and Selena Gomez, The Weeknd and Ariana Grande, Luke Combs, SZA, David Guetta and Bebe Rexha. End description]

More information about this blog here

Before getting into the ramble, I'm just going to get ahead of the responses and clarify that when I name a song on these polls, I use the official name of the song as it's listed on the Billboard charts (obviously unless the official title includes an uncensored slur or the song was credited to an artist's deadname, which I haven't had to deal with as of now.) Luke Comb's cover of Tracy Chapman's Fast Car is simply listed as "Fast Car - Luke Combs" on Billboard. Not "Luke Comb's cover of Fast Car" or "Fast Car by Tracy Chapman (Luke Combs version)."

Now that I got that out of the way. Hi. Good to see you all again. Welcome to the end of 2023. We made it.

This is going to be an interesting entry on this blog for me. Because not only is this the first time I posted a poll from the current chart, this is also the first time since 2009 when I have not been closely monitoring the charts all year. So right now, I feel like I'm trying to look back to figure out what happened.

So. What happened?

Ever since the streaming era began, it's been clear that pop success matters less and less, but that feeling was especially strong this year. I'm not saying any of these songs are bad (that's not the point of this blog). But streaming splintered people's listening habits so much that everyone is able to listen to their own thing. Before I got big into chart watching, I was not an avid pop listener. But I was still knew which songs were popular because they were so much harder to avoid.

As I'm writing this, I've been listening to various Top 40/100 stations on the radio. Even ignoring the number of Christmas songs, I have yet to hear a song that came out in 2023. It makes sense to hear songs from 2022, since songs often take a while to build momentum (such as the tracks from SZA's SOS), but I've heard songs from 2014, 2013, 2006, 1995, etc.

And that's not even touching the year-end chart itself which includes 1. songs from 2022 (Kill Bill, Anti-Hero, Snooze, Calm Down), 2. a remix of a song from 2016 (Die for You), 3. a cover/remake of a song from 1996 (Creepin), 4. a cover of a song from 1988 (Fast Car), and 5. a song with an interpolation of a song from 1998 (I'm Good (Blue)). There are only 2 songs on the top 10 that are from 2023.

This year's tendency to look back is emphasized further by the genre which had the largest presence: country music. Not just because country music tends to be more traditional, but country music hasn't had a presence this big on the top 100 since the 90s. The biggest song of the year is a country-pop track by Morgan Wallen, whose 36 track album debuted at number one on the Billboard album chart. Not the country album chart. The Billboard 200. Beyond that, we have Luke Combs, whose cover of Fast Car reached the top 10, but two other singles from his album Growin' Up reached the Billboard Year End 100 without relying on the usual techniques country songs often need to cross over to the pop charts. Additionally, each year as of late tends to have it's pick of "think-piecey songs," whether it's Blurred Lines in 2013, WAP in 2020, or [insert any Taylor Swift song here]. The two most controversial songs of the year also happened to be country, with Oliver Anthony's Rich Men North of Richmond and Jason Aldean's Try That in a Small Town.

Why was country so big this year? One of my theories is that with streaming splintering people's listening habits so much, chart metrics will tend to favor physical media. I don't think it's a coincidence that Taylor Swift tends to dominate the charts while also being one of the top-selling artists on vinyl. If people are willing to pay actual money for your music instead of letting it stream in the background, the charts are going to calculate that differently. Not only are country fans more likely to buy physical music, but the two previously mentioned controversial country songs were also helped by right-leaning listeners boosting their sales, resulting in the two songs receiving a 78 and a 66 position on the year-end chart respectively.

As I'm writing this, I'm worrying that I'm not giving country music its proper credit. "Why was country music so big?" is a question that doesn't need to have a deeper answer. "A lot of people liked it so it had a larger presence" is also a sufficient answer. Country music doesn't have to cheat to reach the charts. The reason I'm delving into this is not the mere fact that country was popular, but the fact that country was so popular and seemed to shape the pop landscape as a whole, while not having the usual staples of a country-pop crossover. Unlike previous crossovers, none of the songs I mentioned needed a pop star or a rap verse to break onto the pop charts.

But speaking of a genre requiring a pop star to find a mainstream chart presence, 2023 marks the year of the first afrobeats song to reach a billion streams on Spotify, with Rema and Selena Gomez's Calm Down. But even without the pop feature, afrobeats also had an explosive year in 2023, and it's possible we'll only see the genre grow more popularity, similar to how reggaeton took over the pop landscape after Despacito crossed over to the mainstream American charts in 2017. If you, like me, aren't that familiar with the history of this genre and you would like to learn more, please know that afrobeat and afrobeats are two distinct genres. This article also does a good rundown of the differences and their respective histories. Also, while the song itself isn't afrobeats, Unavailable by Davido came out this year and it's incredible. The full album is amazing too. It's dreamy and atmospheric with energetic drums and I need to find a slot for it in my favorite releases of the year.

For a year where pop music was widely considered to have a down year, I sure had a lot to talk about. I haven't even touched on the "decline of rap music" (especially sad since it's the 50th anniversary of the genre), Taylor Swift's dominance (I mentioned her twice though; she'll live), or delved deeper into the presence of older songs on the charts. It certainly was an interesting year in music to talk about. But listening to it? Well, I'll let you decide that.

But if you look past the top 10 (or even the top 100), this was an incredible year for music. I haven't had the time to listen to every new release (thanks law school), but I still listened to enough that I came out of this year with some of my favorite musical projects of all time. I plan on sharing my favorite songs/albums of the year in a later post.

Thank you for spending this year in music with me.

[apollo-enthusiast]

Hamas beheaded and shot children. Here is the proof.

Shooting, stabbing, choking, beheading and burning: hours before Israel presents its defense at The Hague, new harrowing testimonies of Hamas' monstrosities come to light; discretion is advised.

Some of the images and details below are highly disturbing and readers are advised to exercise discretion. We see value in bringing these images to the public's attention at a time when Israel is forced to defend itself in The Hague.

The disturbing documentation includes images of a girl who was shot in the head at point-blank range and then beheaded. Another imaging revealed how terrorists set a person on fire after stabbing, shooting and running him over.

Another horrifying still depicts a group of people with their hands tied with plastic zip ties, then shot while trying to shield their heads with their hands. If there were no zip ties within reach, the terrorists would bind their victims with electric cables ripped from home appliances. Gunshot marks were visible on the exposed hands of the victims, sometimes elderly people.

“It's pure evil,” says the institute’s director Dr. Hen Kugel, whose 30 years of experience in forensics haven’t prepared him for what came on October 7. “I already witnessed every possible murder method – shooting, stabbing, strangulation, you name it. But this kind of abuse, as the one seen on this young man’s body, I couldn’t even imagine something like that. This is not just ensuring the job is done; it's pure evil intended to obliterate every trace of that person.” Evidence from the killing grounds continues to pour in, albeit in smaller volumes at first. Last month, the institute received 143 plastic bags containing bone fragments. “The professional challenge for the institute's staff is to identify the person solely through these remains. Efforts to identify the victims continue all the time, albeit with less intensity. We clear debris and find bones. We cling to every crumb, splinter and bone that allows for deciphering,” Dr. Kugel says.

As part of his job, Dr. Kugel is also forced to watch numerous videos of the terrorists' atrocities. He is a member of a panel that managed to declare the death of missing persons in the absence of a body, based on assessments that also rely on watching these videos. "One of the videos that shocked me the most was of a Tanzanian student who worked on one of the kibbutzim near the border. He was seen on security cameras talking to his killers. He was probably begging for his life, but they dragged him outside from the dairy barn, plunged a huge knife into his chest that came out his back, and then shot him. When I first encountered this atrocity, I remember asking myself, ‘what do they have against him? Can't they see he's not Israeli? Do they have some previous conflict with him? Why did they murder him, and with such cruelty?’" wonders Dr. Kugel. "It's about hate, deep wickedness, humiliation. I've seen many murder cases, but who ties up people together, shoots them all and then sets them on fire? What kind of despicable murderer would do all of this? It's pure evil." The photos and descriptions, which have been largely withheld to spare the public, are set to play a crucial role in Israel's defense at the International Court in The Hague. In response to cynical accusations of war crimes, Israel is compelled to reveal the extent of Hamas' atrocities and the terrorists' war crimes. These include the murder and desecration of bodies long after their victims were rendered defenseless.

[coldbloodedstrike]

Disclaimer: I just started Genshin Impact so I'm not familiar with every piece of lore. So this isn't going to cover everything about The Travelers and Venti's relationship. But I wanted to point out some very interesting details I've picked up on so far:

1.) "Beloved of the Anemo Archon" Achievement.

Beloved is a very interesting choice here. While beloved isn't exclusively romantic, it is often used in a romantic context. Beloved indicates that someone is deeply loved... and having the traveler sit in the hand of the statue is a really interesting choice.

2.) "The Outlander who caught the wind". Kind of losing my mind over this because it implies that The Traveler caught the god of Anemo - who is also the God of Freedom.

3.) Venti's association with birds [teaching the first birds that they only needed courage to fly] and the Travelers being winged beings who lost their powers. His association with birds is also consistent with his relationship with Xiao - as Xiao is based on the Golden-Winged Great Peng [which is a being that looks like a half man/half bird. But in Genshin Impact, Xiao is represented as a bird, rather than the bird/man hybrid depiction of the Golden-Winged Great Peng.]

Article about Xiao: here

4.) The very, very interesting pattern of having the Traveler be saved by anemo users during the final moments of major story arcs.

Xiao: saves the traveler from falling to their death. [ And Xiao sacrifices sacrifice himself to save the traveler and their friends in "At Tunnels End".]

Kazuha: saves the Traveler from getting killed by The Raiden Shogun.

The Wanderer: saves the traveler from getting beamed by the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom.

"May the wind protect you" indeed...

5.) Windwheel Asters, which are used to level up the Traveler, say:

"A plant that adores the wind. To the proud children of the wind, or the citizens of Mondstadt, the Windwheel Asters are "the visible winds".

Having Windwheel Asters be one of the materials to ascend the traveler is interesting... because the ascension materials didn't have to include this flower. It could have even been some made up flower related to the stars. Like a "Star Flower" or something... but it's a flower that "adores the wind"... Also this material could have been any random material.

6.) Venti's very suspicious piece of dialogue "Ah, Traveler! We meet again. What? You don't remember me? Aha, Well allow me to join you on your quest once again. I must see to it that the bards of the world tell the Travelers tale."

Ontop of this, Venti's Windblume poem implies a connection to the Traveler. The Windblume poem is about the Traveler because in the Chinese script "you" and "your" change depending on who you pick. Since Archons can enter peoples dreams and Venti went to sleep for a period of time - it's possible he could have met the Traveler while they were sleeping. And he kept them company during their 500 year sleep - a sleep which was implied to be full of nightmares in the trailer for the beta version of the game [which is voiced over by Venti jsyk].

The reason why I think he met the Traveler in their dreams is because of this line in Ventis Windblume poem:

Who was it that embraced your noble soul in dreams deep

Here's the full Windblume poem:

"Who was it that stroked your bloodied, determined visage By stream flowing small By boulder standing large Who was it that embraced your weary yet noble soul in dreams deep In skies soaring Dear friend I am leading you by the hand Into the night where lanterns shine bright To tell you a tale of freedom and dreams The tale of where this festival begins.”

I highlighted the "noble soul" part because of the description of the Anemo Archon statues:

A monumental stone statue that watches over Mondstadt. Legends say that it was sculpted in the image of the Anemo Archon. "Seeds brought by the wind will grow over time." The statue silently anticipates the arrival of a noble soul to arrive, while thousand winds of time will soon unfold a new story...

[Jsyk you get the "Beloved of the Anemo Archon" trophy by sitting on the hands of the Statue of Barbatos in Mondstadt.]

This is extra interesting when we take into account Venti's close association with The God of time and his roll of being the wind that brings the "seeds" to where they're meant to be. It's obvious that Venti is guiding the traveler to some kind of end goal we're not aware of. And thematically, he's protecting them even when he's not directly involved in their conflict through Anemo users.

Venti also says: "There is not a single song I do not know, whether it be the past, present, or future"

I'm not sure if this is supposed to mean he is ALSO the God of Time - like when "The Anemo Archon" goes to "sleep", "The God of Time" awakens. Or if Venti is given visions by the God of Time to carry out certain events - to be the wind that delivers the seeds to where they're meant to be. But the point is is that he obviously knows future events and he's intentionally keeping them from The Traveler, while guiding them along a certain path. He's not keeping secrets from The Traveler to be malicious, but to make sure they take a certain path to a specific end goal.

And again, he's also been waiting for them to come to Teyvat for an untold amount of time.

7.) When Venti is describing what a Windblume can mean the camera switches to Ventis POV, then it pans over to the Traveler when he says "flowers of love". This is very suspicious because the camera didn't need to pan over to the traveler at all nor did we need a perspective shift to begin with... but it does when Venti says "flowers of love"... how am I not supposed to interpret that as him being romantically interested in the traveler?

Yeah. "love" - at least in english - can mean any kind of love, but it's the choice to have the camera shift to Venti's perspective, then have the camera pan over to the traveler [while still in Venti's POV] as he's saying "flowers of love" is what has me thinking "love" is supposed to mean romantic love in this situation.

8.) Venti and the Traveler missing someone who shares the same face and grieving a time they can't return to.

9.) Traveler to Venti: "Your eyes are the color of the sky in my homeland"

10.) Venti calling the Traveler "My warrior". Again, this is really interesting to me because Venti has been waiting for the traveler to come to Teyvat. He needs the Traveler to be his warrior so that some kind of end goal can be obtained.

But honestly... his teapot dialogue is very sweet.

[awesomesauce2929]

Sorry :"D Oh shit, I was trying to think of and think through an extension of my thought [angels dbs "eldritch space creatures" that Zeno called Leviathans (that's not the biblical fire-breathing sea serpent that's usually in legends) just because it sounds cool and intimidating, also something rare and powerful] (although the leviathan form from Final Fantasy looks interesting, I admit) I mean the angels' actual cosmic form is an indescribable shit, galactic cosmic shadowy "mass"? It changes constantly (also at their will), can open a large number of eyes over on body and around body, forms the likeness of an animal's paws and tail??? A real brain and eye game. We need to think about this a little more so we don't turn the Angels into Marty Sue.

Gods of destruction sometimes see the true form of angels, and even if they've been familiar with it for a long time, somewhere deep inside themselves their brains react to it as an unholy creepy horror that transcends time and space and it all the same partially scares them

Perhaps I've taken too much for this, and should I just write "stellar shadow mass/stellar shadow body or astral mass" without details in my possible fanfic so readers can imagine for themselves what angels are?

lol, even I can't explain the visual appearance of angels properly, It seems that this is how it should be And lol, the 2Universe thinks the leviathan Daishinkan is very beautiful, it looks funny. It's literally Heles squinting at the GP's "form" trying to see the details, comparing it to Sour open form and just going: "well, I don't know what's in front of me now, but I'll admit that your father looks handsome and elegant"

What I would say that having some details revealed would be good to show more of the mystery of the Angels' appearances. So to introduce them as "stellar shadow mass/body or an astral body" with some details such as physical features (e.g. many eyes, many hands), an aura or how their eldritch form effect the environment for example, does their appearance make it much colder, the objects became blurrier, another dimension could be made so it does not damage parts of the universe? "It changes constantly (also at their will), can open a large number of eyes over on body and around body, forms the likeness of an animal's paws and tail??? A real brain and eye game." is a perfectly fine description of the angels' appearance, I got chills reading that, you got this.

Teasing the reader with an established base like this so their imaginations about the Angels' appearence can fly. If the destroyers/hakaishins could barely comphehend and handle the Eldritch form, it is beyond what a mortal could understand, their lifetime is not enough to understand the small percentage of it.

What could also help is to explore how their appearence impact others and what are the others' feelings about it. Like at least the destroyers won't go too mad with power over their universe and subjects in that universe/domain and don't get too far as the image of the angels true form in the back of the mind. It's perfect that is to prevent destroyers seriously fight to the death.

I believe the Angels can have multiple forms developed over millions of years and some, billions of years, perhaps they could still form their new ultimate form, hidden away unless ordered by Daishinkan and Zeno to reveal it or allow them to use it in some circumstances.

One of my idea of their true form is they are a host of multiple deities under their control, most of them are former destroyers when they retire from their duties. Longer the angel been in duty as a guide angel, more of the former destroyers they collect and inherit their abilities as well, as part of the ritual of how the mortals become the destroyer. The exception to that is when the destroyer gets killed or get erased by the Grand Minister/Zeno that is when the angels deactivated and will not able to collect any more destroyers, they keep what destroyers they have in their form. An interesting bond for an exchange for godhood. That explains we don't see any former destroyer around.

You are right it's hard to describe the visual appearance, it's truly beyond us hahaha. Oh yeah, Heles after meeting leviathan Daishinkan may or may not forget next time she sees him and her universe could adopted some leviathan elements in her universe, Sour approves xD

[seysei]

Who could touma be talking about here?

From the first time you read it, it's easy to assume that he is referring to Mikuni, because the memory that follows this, is one where touma extends his hands to younger Mikuni with the intention of "helping" him

A scene that we see again in chapter 125, this time showing you a clearer version of when touma first introduced himself to Mikuni, the same image of him smiling, but from Jeje's point of view.

(btw I say "helping" because it's clear Touma had malicious intentions)

However, when it was shown in those memories that touma was being jealous of a certain somebody and said the following-

"... Why? Why him and not me? I should have..

Even though my ability is much greater. Just because he was born in a well to do family...

I'll drag him down."

-Was it really Mikuni he was talking about? It's easy to think so, because those lines are followed by a memory of him extending his hand to a younger Mikuni as I've mentioned earlier, with malicious intentions saying he was just trying to "help" him, moreover Mikuni does fit the description of someone born in a well to do family. However if we put it all together, at that time, I don't recall anything special happening to Mikuni that could have made Touma envious of Him. At that time he introduces himself to Mikuni, whom is around 16 years old, Mikuni had literally just witnessed his mother try to kill herself before she got shot dead by Jeje whom he took as him own servamp. (crazy)

That is why, I think that the memory of touma being envious of someone isn't about Mikuni.

In short, I think that those pages are a bunch of different memories, events, that are fair to say happened far from each other, but in those panels Mahiru explores Touma's mind, they are put together in a way that makes it hard to tell which is linked to which.

(bear with me I'll tell you who I think touma was referring to soon. )

See this image, this memory, im sure it's of shuuhei's father's funeral. It looks exactly the same with what is written on the board and the people walking.

So I doubt that touma whom was at the funeral was jealous, of what? A dead person? (lol) therfore that little panel that you see underneath it where he starts his speech of "why him and not me?" must be at another event, an event unrelated to Mikuni, because time-line wise Mikuni should have been around the age of 5 at that event. (16 - 11)

The event I'm referring to is this.

Iori becoming the Head of his family and therfore getting a high status.

(Don't mind Kiriko, I just didn't wanna cut off her part because she's gorgeous and mesmerising--)

So to put it very simple and skip to the point, I think that this 'born in a well to do family' person, that touma was referring to, isn't Mikuni, but tsukimitsu Iori.

That is at least if my theory is right. So if my theory is right, this memory of Touma's speech "why him and not me?" happened about 11 years ago before he offered his "help" to Mikuni.

My theory is that Touma's envy we see in those memories is related to the event of Iori becoming the Head of the tsukimitsu family at the age of 18. Gaining that high status and authority, that Touma had wanted for himself since forever, making him envious of Iori that was born in a well to do family and this power, high status and authority is in his heritage.

After all, when Touma introduced himself to younger Mikuni as we saw in chapter 125, he didn't really introduce himself with his own name, rather he introduced himself as tsukimitsu Iori's friend. Perhaps believing it would be the appropriate introduction for Mikuni to trust him, since Iori was a man from a respectable and well to do family, became the head of the family at a young age yet those around him trusted him with that responsibility since he was a smart man, easily described as respectable and trustworthy.

Idk.

[letitrainathousandflames]

Omg thank you for saying it

Multiple times I've come across ppl literally sharing images of people who've been killed (in one case children what the fuck???) And even if its below a cut I still have to read the description of why they've put it under a cut. I know ppl have different opinions of this stuff but in my view that's so disrespectful of those who've lost their lives. The guilt trippy stuff (and I'm sorry but it's largely coming from people that don't know what they're talking about, as shown by the fact that there's literally no awareness that the stuff that's being said/shown untagged is hugely triggering for ppl who've lived through this stuff)

This is not a news site!!! People trying to avoid this stuff does not mean they don't have awareness of what's going on and aren't staying aware by getting their news from actual news sources???

I'm not against people talking about this stuff on here at all. It needs to be talked about. But for the love of God, making a post is not the same as taking to people in person. People do not have the option to walk away when you just send a post out in to the ether like that. Just tag things appropriately it's not that hard!!!

So yeah thank you for saying it. I always feel hugely guilty for trying to avoid certain things because of the guilt tripping that's so rife on this site but I really shouldn't cause half of what's coming up isn't even constructive (or true a lot of the time) and it just brings up a whole load of stuff that hits my mental health and makes it harder for me to actually campaign in a way that helps people

I always think of that one tweet that's like 'misery is not activism' making people feel shit isn't actually solving any of these issues or helping the world at all lol

When it comes to this topic, I always think of some articles I read about the human brain's capacity for processing bad news. One of them was titled something like "your brain can't handle the world".

Basically, it talked about how years ago (mind you, not that many years, given how fast modern technology evolved) you would get your handful of news, good and bad, on the newspaper or on TV and radio, and even that was already much more than a person in the 1800's would, given the slow pace of letters and how only vital info was able to fit into one. Newspapers would often only carry local news, and you could spend a whole lifetime without knowing what was happening in countries on the other side of the ocean.

Now, imagine that. A wedding would be the talk of the town for weeks. A funeral would be The Sad Event for your to grieve over for the following months. That is the amount of happy and sad (and playful, and contemplative, and other emotions) that one could experience and process in a healthy manner.

But nowadays, you get see the story of a family adopting their first puppy two continents away, and that's great and cool, but unfortunately that also means that you get the story of a bunch of children dying two continents away too, and the testimony of their families, and the overview of the political landscape that lead to this happening and the bleak understanding that that's not gonna change and it will happen again--

all that while you might be dealing yourself with a fascist government in your country, and your own bad news, and your own shitty economy, and laws that hurt a minority of which you are a part, and, and--

That is all too much. Literally too much for the mind of someone who is already tired of doing their own activism and surviving within the microcosm that is their town/community/country.

So you close CNN. You turn off the news livestream. You take a deep breath and you open tumblr because your mind is parched for dopamine and happiness you could use some cute fanart and compelling headcanons to relax.

You are two cute dog pics down when you scroll into graphic pictures of the latest massacre, paired with a detailed testemony of whatever horrific thing that happened. There isn't even a link for donations, or an e-mail you can reach to do anything remotely useful about it. It's just a spatter of misery smeared on your phone screen, quickly erasing all joy you might've gotten from the dog pics.

Your taglist is extensive, mind you, for the sake of keeping your dash a small safe haven from the dangers of doomscrolling - it's all there, blocked from sight: #negative, #current events, #death/, #child death/, #animal death/, #[insert current world tragedy], #[insert topic particularly triggering that could send you into a panic attack].

But people don't tag their shit. They say shit like "i don't care your blog theme, if you don't reblog this, you're a monster". They say "stop scrolling and look at this horrific thing". They say "why is no one talking about this"--

And don't realize, or don't care that some people are drowning in bills to pay and extra shifts to work and needing to double-think about wearing their pride pins because homophobia is getting worse in their country, and struggling with depression and anxiety, etc, etc.

I'm too adhd to make a concise text post ever, but if I can make any sort of point here, I guess that would be:

There is nothing wrong with not wanting to see, reblog or interact with negative posts about current events. This is not a news website. You did not come here for the news, and therefore is perfectly normal that you don't want to deal with them.

There is nothing wrong with making your dash a nice place curated with only the things you like. Block tags and blogs liberally. I know I do. This website is, to me, a source of memes, headcanons, jokes, character analysis and occasional useful knowledge. I don't get my news here. I don't engage in political/ideological debates here. I see a transphobe, I block them. I see a gun-freak bootlicker, I block them. This is my little garden, and goddamnit I will rip off all the weeds.

There is nothing wrong with not reblogging certain content, no matter what the guilt-trippy reblogs say. You don't owe anyone the space in your blog. This is your little garden, people don't get to tell you what to plant in it. You are one. Little. Person. You rebbloging something won't have the Big Worldly Impact they're making it out to be.

If you want to make room for the occasional activism in your blog, that's fine too. I make a point that everything I reblog that has a negative tone must be not only properly tagged but also have some kind of action attached to it - a donation link, a link for further reading in case of something raising awareness, a contact line for representatives to stop some dogshit law. I never reblog things that are just depressing and leave you feeling hopeless.

Please stay safe, drink water, be wary of doomscrolling, allow yourself not to be an activist 24/7, give yourself a safe space to decompress, take care, I love you <3

Before I go, I must leave fair warning to the piss-poor reading comprehension crowd: no, I am not advocating for toxic positivity or pretending that everything is fine, I just want the poor fuck juggling two jobs plus school while living in a political hellscape and managing depression and some other undiagnosed mental condition to be able to scroll the funny shitposting website without having to see triggering content that will send them into a panic attack.

Oh, and if you like my writing, here's my ko-fi for you to drop a lil coin <;3

[areweevercameraready]

a little snippet...

A/N: so....i actually have...... maybe 100,000k words unpublished with the boys in human au.,.... and since the human au infodump, i've been wondering if i should post things from the spinoff au. i asked a friend and she suggested i post at least a bit since there Were Folks who enjoyed these characters. im hugging everyone who has been keeping up :') thank you and i love you and you don't know how much this means to me, that people like my work.

i do plan on updating more than beliefs, though as you can probably tell, updates are pretty slow. i've had big weird life changes over the past three or so years, which is kinda sad, since i used to be able to update chivalry literally once a week :'D but thank you all for sticking with me through it!! i'm hoping, once i'm done writing my thesis, i can get back to updating MTB more often. i've had the whole thing plotted in my head for a while and you all deserve to see more of macbeth, along with where he was during like. all of chivalry.

heads up that this is NOT going on AO3 — it's a bit far from the actual fandom space so I'm really hesitant to put it up there. it'll only be here! somewhat related, but i might spruce up this blog layout. the banner image is kind of old/i don't like the anatomy, and same with the icon. and i just took a look at the blog and went "wow the text is smaller than i remember it being..." so that's a sign that it's Too Small! time for a change probably.

Words: 7,615

WARNINGS: descriptions of anxiety disorder, descriptions of past child abuse, suicidal/depressive thoughts, someone's ankle breaks (don't run in heels, kids!), alcohol and drunkenness

if i forgot anything, please let me know! this is only one chapter of a longer thing (i'm still on the fence about posting all of it but frankly, if i do revamp this blog, i straight fuckin might. i don't plan on publishing these novels for market consumption, but i would be happy to know if folks out there enjoyed them :') )

enjoy the snippet! <3

Eric Yuan hadn't considered himself lovable in a long, long time.

The anxiety disorder was just scraping the surface. There was the legal battle he'd gone into against his parents for custody over Gavin. He was so responsible it was irresponsible, sleeping odd hours, sometimes none at all, and living off of the cheapest coffee he could find to keep himself awake. There was the lack of time, the long hours of work to pay for the apartment and his and Gavin's lives, between working at the bar and at the restaurant, trying to pull together something to keep them afloat. He survived off of lunch and, when tips were good, the occasional dinner. 

Gavin had noticed, of course, but he was nice enough to not say anything. Eric tried to be as honest as he could about how sometimes they couldn't get new games or new things, how he would have to stay late at night at work. If Eric was thankful for anything, it was how understanding Gavin was. That kid rolled with as many punches as were thrown and while Eric knew he shouldn't have to, knew that his brother deserved a better upbringing than the shit that their parents and now the world were putting them through, he also recognized that this was the best he could do. 

He tried to hide himself in work, two jobs that provided enough money to keep them going. Honestly, if he’d talked with his managers and budgeted hours differently, he could get by with just the bartending job. But the days without work were spent taking Gavin to school, watching Gavin at home, laying on the couch and staring at the ceiling. He had to have something to bury himself in so he wouldn’t be stuck with his thoughts, the ones that promised danger, contempt, building paranoia and anxiety until he choked on his own breath. Thoughts that promised a kinder world. On the other side.

If he killed himself, Gavin would go right back to their parents, and Eric had to stay alive if only to prevent that. That was….that was the only reason. 

Sometimes, he wondered if Gavin knew, because on nights like that the kid always managed to find his way into Eric's bed. He'd crawl in and snuggle between Eric's arms and tell him he had a nightmare. Eric never knew how honest he was being, but he never turned the offer down.

He had to keep alive. So he did. 

And like, man worked a lot. Often, too much. How the fuck was he supposed to keep up with the world around him if he barely used his social media, didn't watch any of the new content put out in recent years, didn't engage with new platforms. Well, he had a Twitter, but that was just to look at funny memes. Those were his favorite development in recent years. Twitter also helped keep up with the news somewhat, but he didn’t exactly pay attention to that. Also, cat videos, those were important to him. 

Yeah, he was fairly disconnected, but what else was new and what could you do.

Eric Yuan's life flipped when he was opening the bar at 4 p.m. on a Wednesday. He wasn't an owner or manager, but he was a shift lead. The most dependable shift lead, if you asked his manager, and while he often told Eric that he was pretty reliable, it wasn’t as though Eric processed that kind of praise. He did know that he got the most done, and was the most efficient, because he could take that kind of metric comparison. But, like. Most reliable? He didn’t know how true that was. Eric liked to take the opening shifts, helped get home at a reasonable enough hour to see Gavin to sleep and for him to sleep enough to take the lunch shifts at his other job. 

The opening shift consisted of a few things. Making sure dishes were racked for the night, that the trash was all arranged and the bins were out in the alley, that bottles that looked like they were going to go empty had restocks close by. It was slow and quiet, for shift leads, but it was perfect for Eric. He liked to turn on some music and walk around, working efficient and quick enough usually to have a few minutes of quiet before the bartenders started showing up. 

The alley behind his bar was more like a driveway than anything, wide enough just for one car. Most of the time, the neighboring businesses would just put their bins back here during work hours. 

While opening on this day, though, Eric noticed a man running. He'd turned the sharp corner near the bar and hurried partway down the block, panting as if he'd been running a while. Eric actually pulled his own bins back as the man passed him. Then promptly tripped. What idiot runs in heels, anyway?

The man tried to get back up, but a few steps proved his ankle injured enough for him to collapse again. And that's when he looked up, frantically looking around for help, and his eyes locked with Eric's. 

Eric waved, ever so slightly. And, well. He's always been the type to help someone who needed it. He didn't know what the man was running from, but it seemed that time was of the essence. He jogged over and picked the man up easily, making sure he didn't grab the man's dreadlocks accidentally beneath his arm, and hurried him into the bar. At least the dude was pretty light, and he let Eric pick him up, wrapping his arms around Eric’s shoulders. 

The first and only real thing Eric noticed was that he smelt a little floral. Must have been perfume or something. The man wasn’t wearing clothes that Eric would have called casual, especially with the heels. A fall like that must have hurt his ankle.

"Thank you," the man whispered, and Eric noticed how gentle his voice was, how lofty and warm. "Close the door, please, they can't see me."

Eric didn't know who the fuck "They" was, but Eric kicked the door closed on his way in. Just as he did, too, he heard the sound of footsteps at the end of the alley. Eric helped the man hide behind the bar, out of view of the door, and shushed him quietly as a knock sounded on the door. 

He wiped his hands on his apron, stepping back towards the door. He paused before opening it only to prepare his face, so he could open it with the deadliest glare. And there were. People. There. Were many people. Many with cameras. All looking fairly out of breath. 

How did that guy outrun a whole ass crowd? 

The man who had knocked was haggard, taller than Eric but with an obviously lankier build, wheezing as he asked, “Have you seen anyone come up this road?”

He sounded kinda desperate. Eric shook his head slowly, cogs working in his head as he put together a cover story. “No, I’ve just been trying to open up shop. I took the bins out,” he gestured to the trash bins, set alongside the wall. “But I didn’t see anyone then. If someone was out there, they could have run past while I was stocking.”

The man nodded, either willing to accept that lie or too frantic to look too deep into it. Eric watched with sharp eyes as he and the group looked up and down the street. He didn’t think this concerned him, though, and he wanted to check back in on the absolute rando’ he’d just let into the bar. So he nudged the guy’s hand. 

“I think the candy shop over there’s open, around that corner.” Eric pointed to the end of the alley. “If someone ran past, they could have seen them. Other than that though, I don’t have anything, and I’ve gotta get back to opening.”

Just a few well-placed white lies. The man at the door nodded and motioned the group to leave without another word. Eric let the door slam behind them. 

Well. Then. He exhaled slow, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, then turned to the bar counter. 

The way the bar was arranged was such that there was a peninsula counter, sticking out of the wall with seats arranged on all sides. On one side, too, was a small stage. Often, they would just play music. Sometimes they had performers, live musicians, and every Thursday was comedy night for local comedians. In June, they have a small drag show every Friday, and in December, they have a run of charity shows. There are still fliers and decorations up from the last one; Eric should take them down while he’s opening. 

The man who he’d snuck in slowly peeks his head around the counter. There was something awfully familiar about him, like Eric had definitely seen this dude before, but he isn’t attuned to the daily gossip. Maybe it was just because the man was pretty as could be, eyes a warm brown that lingered around Eric before darting back at the door. His brows were perfectly shaped. Eric could see a little heart on his cheek, too, and silver decorations in his dreadlocks. Very, very pretty.

The man scan the area, see Eric going around to take the chairs out from where they’ve been stacked in the corner. And he asks, in a voice almost more delicate than Eric could have imagined, “Are they gone?”

“Yeah,” Eric said, setting down the barstools as he went around the bar’s lounge area. “They stalkers or something?”

As soon as Eric said the people chasing him were gone, the man sighed, standing up all the way and cracking his neck. He scooted to the sink behind the counter to wash his hands, which was fair. It wasn’t like the bar ground was the cleanest, even just before opening. 

Someone like this dude, this put together and manicured and astoundingly beautiful, shouldn’t have had to put his hands on the bar’s fuckin’ ground.

“Basically stalkers. Paparazzi,” the man sighed. 

“Paparazzi?” Eric asked, looking back at the man.

Was this dude fucking famous? Eric couldn’t recognize him. Damn, he was that far removed from things, that he couldn’t recognize an entire celebrity.

The man must have realized now that Eric hadn’t known who he was, because his grin turned sheepish as he wiped his hands on a towel. “Yep! I’m, uh. Songbird? That’s my stage name. And my YouTube channel.” 

That name rang, like, literally no bells in Eric’s head. Figures, though. He rarely watched Youtube. 

They stood in relative silence for a few beats before the man tried again. “Cadence? Cadence Beaulieu?” 

“Oh,” Eric said, and it must have been obvious how he didn’t know who the fuck this Cadence dude was, because Cadence laughed a little in his face. 

“You’re cute,” Cadence said, limping out around the bar, holding onto the bar’s side. “I don’t get that much anymore.” 

“Cool.” Eric instinctually hurried over, holding Cadence’s arm and waist as he helped him onto one of the bar’s seats, but his head was reeling from the idea of a famous celebrity calling him cute. Like? That didn’t just happen. Did it? This guy was fucking famous? 

What the fuck was he supposed to say? How do you talk to famous people? Eric helped him settle into the seat before asking, “Do you want water or something?”

“No, I’m good,” Cadence smiled at him.

Eric was going to loose his mind, he got called cute by a famous dude and now he’s looking at the famous dude and realizing how cute the famous guy was. He hadn’t paid attention to that earlier, too preoccupied with getting the guys at the door to leave, but now that he was actually looking at this guy—his anxiety was about to start kicking in, hard, he could tell. What if he made an ass of himself in front of the famous dude? The incredibly pretty famous dude. 

“Cool,” Eric looked down, at the bar, and whistled a little. “If you want, you can, uh, stay here for a bit, until your car comes?”

He figured the famous dude isn’t driving around himself. 

Cadence nodded. “If that’s okay,” he murmured, taking out his phone. “I can stay outta your way, then.”

Slowly, Eric nodded, too. He had to get the extra drinks ready. Finish opening up. And. He couldn’t really. Process? What was happening. He just thought he was helping someone up off the street, having tripped, and….Wait.

“Wait, how’s your ankle?” he tried to swallow his anxiety, looking back at Cadence, who seemed to be idling on his phone. 

Cadence looked back up at him, then at his ankle. He was wearing strappy heels, flowy pants, a tight shirt, and an old oversized jacket, and none of these looked like clothes that were good to be running around in. Especially those heels. Eric didn���t know much about heels but he figured they might be an inch? And that was probably enough to fucking break a leg. Rude to stare, though. So he just. Averted his eyes back to the glasses he was stacking for later.

This guy was so fucking pretty. Eric was holding him earlier. He’d carried him—Eric had deadlift carried a whole ass celebrity. 

“Probably sprained,” Cadence said with a sigh. “When I get home, I can ice it. I don’t think it’s fully broken, though, I could put a little weight on it.”

Now, they had ice in the box. Eric grabbed one of the spare bags for their limes and filled one with ice, part of their protocol for when drunkards would hurt themselves. He wrapped it in one of the clean towels and, once the Grey Goose was restocked, brought it over to Cadence. Who took it. Gratefully. It seemed. 

“Thanks,” Cadence gave him a smile, which like. Eric still didn’t really know how to feel about this. 

“No problem,” he said. “Sorry, uh. For, uh, being quiet. And not knowing who you were.”

Because like, that felt like something he should apologize for, you know? If Cadence is used to people recognizing him on the streets and some level of respect because of it, then maybe Eric treating him like a regular person (maybe even ignoring him, since he’s just sitting in the corner) might be rude? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the fucking etiquette for talking to famous people, this isn’t a problem he’s ever had!

“It’s okay, no, don’t even worry,” Cadence giggled—that sound, that fucking sound was so soft, what the hell?—and waved his hand dismissively. 

“Okay,” Eric nodded. And he didn’t have much to. Like. Add? 

So he turned around and went back to restocking the bar. And he didn’t say anything about how he could feel Cadence watching him. He didn’t say anything, but he could feel Cadence’s eyes on his back every so often, when he’d look up from his phone. 

Maybe he was tweeting something about him. Eric didn’t know much about social media so if he did get tweeted about, he definitely wasn’t going to be able to find it. Or maybe he was texting his famous friends about the weirdo bartender who’s just ignoring him as he lifts the crates out of the storage room and cracks them open. 

There’s no way this dude would be bullying him over shit like this for no reason, right? 

Regardless, Eric wasn’t about to start a conversation and ask. He just knew that the guy was staring at him. For what felt like an hour. Realistically, only like, half an hour. But for fucking forever, man.

At some point, though, it had to end. After about twenty minutes, Cadence stood up, wobbling a little on his hurt ankle. Eric, who’d been restocking the limes, looked up, then stood up. 

“Your car here?” he asked. 

“Yep,” Cadence smiled a little at him. “When does this place open, anyway?”

“Uh,” Eric frowned, checking the clock on the wall. “In ten.”

Where the fuck are his bartenders, anyway? They’re supposed to get here at around now. Fuckers. 

Cadence nodded, though, noting the time. “Glad this all happened before hours, then. Wouldn’t want it to get too crazy in here for you,” he looked at the clock on the wall, then back at Eric, with a small smile that made Eric’s already quick-beating heart skip a beat thinking of how his eyes creased with gentle happiness. 

“Uh. Yeah,” Eric tried to smile, too, but something told him it looked a little more like a grimace. 

Cadence waved, Eric waved. Then Cadence left. And the door closed behind him.

And that was the that. On that. 

Eric was fairly zoned out for the whole shift. He was mixing drinks on autopilot, not so much as handling customers. Some drunkard got rowdy, Eric wasted no time to tell them to fuck off. His patience was zilch. 

He got home and Gavin’s already put himself to bed, tucked in and in his PJ’s, though Eric heard him get up when he closed the front door. Eric picked him up, tucked him back in again, and kissed him on the head. Poor kid hated being alone late at night, especially when he had to put himself to bed. Eric laid on the bed with him, one foot off to hold himself steady, and made sure Gavin was all the way asleep before he stood up to change his own clothes. 

Only once he was sure Gavin’s not getting out of bed again does he check his phone, too. 

“Cadence Beaulieu” had over four million followers on Twitter, over fifteen million subscribers on Youtube, and an Instagram account that makes Eric blush almost inappropriately. And this is the guy who was. In his bar. Talking to him. Eric picked this man up earlier and didn’t even notice that the heart on his face was made up of three moles. It looked like a tattoo almost, but no, apparently. 

He spent almost too much time binging Cadence’s content before he managed to pass out to the sound of one of his beauty tutorials. Interesting, that this is the guy he met. This is the guy who he picked up, carried into his bar, hid in the corner.

Interesting. 

But not every day is so interesting. So Eric goes back to work and expects nothing to change. He tries to put this rare celebrity encounter behind him. Tries not to think of how much of an idiot he must have been, seeming to just fade into the background and ignore what could have been a real moment had he asked more questions, became something more memorable perhaps. He could have asked Cadence how he was doing, at least. How his day had been. Anything, really. 

Instead, Eric just has the memory of the prettiest man on the planet sitting in the corner of the bar, of his bar. Alone together. A stranger, sure, and maybe Eric understood somewhere that that was part of why the anxiety was so strong? But c’mon. Man was pretty. Nice, too. 

Damn. This is why he’s single, he joked bitterly to himself. Lonely, the joke in his head twisted. He didn’t have the gall to actually talk to anyone, what was he supposed to do.

He had been cleaning out glasses at the bar, late one night. He’d picked up a later shift, after Gavin had already gone to sleep. Usually, Eric liked to be home while the kid slept, but sometimes the scheduling didn’t work out like that and he’d need to pick up extra hours for other bartenders who had to tap out. He was a very strong cover, apparently. And on the spectrum of “thank god that lucky ass thing happened,” this was right below Cadence’s accident. 

About two weeks after Eric meets a whole ass celebrity, two men sit down at the bar during one of the live musical performances. It was Eric’s time working behind the bar, and he saw the one with the eyepatch wave him over. Which, like. Okay, sure, he was getting there. But customer service and you never know how many drinks they’ve had before they walk in at one in the morning and you definitely don’t want to get mad at the dude giving you the tip and maybe this dude’s never been to a bar, who the fuck wears soft cashmere at a bar, and his buddy there was in a bowtie and suspenders like this was some kind of book club and not remarkably past midnight on a Thursday. 

Like, okay, nerds, maybe they’ve just never been to this kinda bar. Sure. Fine.

“What can I get started for you boys,” Eric said, slinging his washcloth over his shoulder on his approach. 

“Two cosmopolitans, please,” the one with the eyepatch said, giving Eric a smile that read polite. 

Eric looked at the one with curly hair and glasses, who nodded in confirmation. “One shot in both? You got any vodka preferences?” he asked, taking out the house vodka and two tumblers. 

Before the eyepatch’ed one could reply, the one with glasses butted in, saying, “One with one shot, a double in the other, please. And if you have Ketel One, that would be grand.”

“A double shot? Marlowe!”

“What, it’s been a good day! I think I deserve a double shot. And you know two shots isn’t enough to do much.” This Marlowe guy sounded pretty cocky, if you were to ask Eric, but no one ever asks the bartender. So he didn’t say anything about it. 

He tuned out of the argument there, as soft as it turned. Much less of an argument, more aggressive flirting, and that was something that was easy for him to zone out of until he set the two cocktails down. “Double shot,” he said, setting the double in front of Marlowe. “And a single. If you boys need anything else, my name’s Eric and I’ll be at the bar all night.” 

“Eric,” the one with the eyepatch smiled, and it was kind of pretty in that controlled, poised way that some models do. “Thank you. If we need anything, I’ll-I’ll call.”

“Thank you, Eric,” Marlowe said, raising his glass and taking a long sip. 

Eric just nodded and went around, checking on others. Earlier, he’d seen some dude try to roofie a girl, and had taken the drink back. She had left with a friend she trusted, and he’d kicked the guy out pretty forcefully, but the moment still left quite the imprint. He was always on edge whenever that happened, hoping to prevent it from happening again. 

He did a few rounds before he ended up in front of Marlowe and his friend again, maybe half an hour later. This friend was on his phone, typing something out, while Marlowe flagged Eric down, with an empty glass before him. 

“Hello, Eric,” Marlowe raised the glass. “Would you be a dime and make me a Long Island Iced Tea?” 

Okay. This dude had to be a heavier drinker, if he was going to be calling out drinks by name. And it wasn’t necessarily Eric’s job to know how much someone could drink, especially strangers. The guy didn’t, like….he didn’t look drunk just yet. You know? So Eric nodded. 

“Sure thing. You got any preferences?” he asked, taking the cup back and pulling out a tall glass. 

Now that seemed to be the right question, or at least one the man hadn’t thought of. Marlowe reached up, cupping his chin in thought, and spared a few glances at his friend still typing. Hopefully this wasn’t, like, for the friend. Eric would have to watch for that. But after a bit of time, Marlowe nods. “Yes. Ketel One again for the vodka.” 

“Sure.” They had Ketel One under the vodka cabinet, but people rarely ordered it. It was one of their premium vodka’s and house vodka was Smirnoff. 

“Do you have Patrón for tequila?” 

“Yeah, I’m….pretty sure,” Eric, before he could be made to swallow his words, took a stride to the tequila cabinet and checked. “Yep, I’ve got Patrón for you.” 

“Excellent. I don’t know enough about the other three alcohols to have preferences, but if you could tell me what you put in, I’d love to start learning.”

An….interesting request. But Eric knew the house drinks like the back of his hand (and he might not be able to hold his liquor like the best of them, but he’d still tried all of the standard drinks. For posterity.) so he pulled out the Bacardi first. “This’ the rum. In house, we use Bacardi. Pretty light for a rum, but it does have a better taste than Captain Morgan. A lot better to mix with,” he explained. 

Marlowe had turned himself toward the counter, watching Eric pour in the Bacardi first, then the Ketel One, then the Patrón. Then, he put those three down. The triple sec was all out on the shelf, since they were common enough and the bar stocked a small enough range to have the whole selection out for viewing. Eric pulled down a bottle of Bols to add, then Henrick’s gin from the shelf below. They were running out behind the bar anyways. “Bols is the triple sec,” Eric said as he poured. “It’s really good for mixing with multiple alcohols. Sometimes a drink’ll play nice with other alcohols and sometimes it’ll only play nice with, like. Coke.”

“That makes sense. The consistencies are very different,” Marlowe hummed. 

Sounded like this dude was the analytical type. Which might explain why he had some of his preferences on hand. If you don’t go to bars often, you’re going to be scared of the unknown. Eric was almost proud of the guy for that, if this was him trying new things. 

He just hoped Marlowe wouldn’t throw up in the bathroom or something. That would fuckin’ suck. Always a situation when the patrons didn’t know their own limits.

“Henrick’s is the gin, and it’s just a easy gin to use,” he said with a shrug. “And then we just….”

He pulled out the cola spritzer, topped the glass off with cola, and put the slice of lemon in. And then he slid it over to Marlowe, who took the drink in one hand with a fascinated look. Dude even pushed his glasses up. 

“Interesting. I’m excited to try it,” Marlowe said, glancing back up to Eric with a smile. 

And before Eric could even warn him about how strong of a gut punch it was about to be, Marlowe picked up the glass and took a swig about a third of the cup. “Woah, buddy,” Eric couldn’t stop himself from jumping at that. “You alright?”

“Marlowe, what the fuck are you doing?” dude’s friend finally looked up from his phone to see Marlowe slam the glass down and cough into his arm. 

“Holy shit,” Marlowe said, fixing his glasses with a smile that seemed a little too wide to be sober. “That’s quite strong, but very, very good. Thank you, Eric!” 

His glasses were still crooked. Eric almost leaned forward to fix them, before the guy’s friend got to it first, and that was all for the better. It’s not like Eric knew these people, after all. 

Marlowe took out his phone and Eric took the chance to lean towards his companion. “He asked for a pretty strong drink,” Eric warned. “If you need a hand taking care of him, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve held a dude’s hair back in the bathroom.”

His friend must have been surprised at the suggestion, but it can’t have been an uncommon thing considering how quickly he got over the possibility. “Thank you, that’s very k-very kind. He’s not usually one to drink a lot,” the friend sighed, then nodded to Eric. “Thank you for your service tonight, Eric. My name is Phillip.”

Phillip, alright. “Good to meet you, Phillip,” Eric said, and he went back around the bar to do rounds.

It was another hour and half before the bar closed, though. Eric wasn’t technically the shift lead for closing, but he was on the shift. When it got close enough to three, he turned on Semisonic’s song “Closing Time.” Most of the people had left by then, quick to leave on their rides or to new bars. 

But still sitting at the bar were the two people Eric had pegged as nerds earlier, Marlowe and Phillip. After Marlowe finished the Long Island Iced Tea, Eric had poured a water, but the man still ordered a margarita on top of it. And now it looked like he was paying for it, given how he was literally leaning on Phillip’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist. Phillip didn’t look all too pleased, however. 

“David is going to be worried si-worried si-sick when we get home.” Eric could hear Phillip chide Marlowe as he got close.

“It’s-It’s all dandy. I love David,” Marlowe hiccupped into Phillip’s shoulder, then leaned around and pressed his face into the base of his neck. “I love YOU, Prince.”

Phillip tutted, reaching back to run his hand through Marlowe’s curled hair. “I love you-love you too, you idiot.”

Cute. Really gay, and cute. Eric put away the cups he’d just washed and approached the pair, noting how they’d slowly but surely become the last people at the bar. 

“Hey,” he said, waving slightly. “Phillip, right?”

“Mhm. Eric,” Phillip greeted. “Sorry to still be here. I can see you’re closing up.”

“Eh. Marlowe’s falling asleep on you, I get it. Do you two have a ride home?” 

At that, Phillip winced. And Eric could have guessed the follow up, honestly. “Actually, Marlowe was supposed to be the driver,” Phillip confessed, patting Marlowe’s hand. “I think he overshot how much he could drink, though. As per usual.”

“I only had three drinks!” Marlowe interrupted, all too proud of himself for having three drinks that had the alcoholic consistency of a freight train. 

Phillip and Eric both seemed to be on the same page, though, because neither acknowledged him. Save for a few gentle pats from Phillip as Marlowe buried himself more in Phillip’s back. 

“Okay. Do you need to call someone?” Eric asked. 

Phillip rubbed the back of his neck, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I know someone who’ll be awake who can come help, but….well. Marlowe’s car is still in the parking lot. It has a parking limit in the morning, which will quickly become an issue.”

Fuckin’ city parking. Eric had definitely gotten a ticket or two before, parking his motorcycle in the wrong place. He usually just walked to work, though, since he was two blocks away. So he didn’t have a vehicle to worry about….

A drunk man and a man with a cane could get picked up real easy this late at night by some unfavorable people. Maybe that worry was what made Eric offer. Maybe it was because Phillip and Marlowe had been fairly kind to him throughout the night. It could also have had something to do with how nice Phillip seemed to be taking it now, how calm he was handling the situation. And maybe, too, how Phillip himself didn’t ask. 

There was something nice about being able to offer help, rather than having it asked of him always. 

“If you want, I can drive you home,” Eric suggested. “I’ll catch an Uber back to my house from yours.”

Phillip blinked, and Marlowe giggled. Eric didn’t know what was so funny. He thought it was probably pretty shady to offer. He knew he wouldn’t let just any stranger drive his bike, after all. But he’d gotten to the point where he could do a solid vibe check just by looking and interacting with someone, and these two seemed nice. He could see himself accepting this kind offer, under similar circumstances, from either of them. 

Still, kinda scary to think he’d be driving someone else’s car to their own house. He wouldn’t know where it was, Phillip would have to direct him. But Phillip legally couldn’t drive, not with the one eye gone, and Marlowe definitely couldn’t drive if he tried. Which he shouldn’t. 

“That would be so-so lovely, thank you,” Phillip said. 

Getting clearance to drive some drunk patrons home was a breeze, knowing it was Eric “workaholic glad you’re getting out early” Yuan. Soon enough, he had his arm looped around Marlowe’s waist, helping him up as Phillip led them to the car, which was parked about half a block away. Phillip also used a cane, which would have been a pretty difficult thing to work around if he needed to carry Marlowe himself. All the more reason Eric was glad to help them home. 

They walked up to a nice sedan, likely a newer model judging by the built in navigation. Phillip helped Eric lay Marlowe in the back seat as he mumbled something about a pony, and Phillip himself climbed into the shotgun. The car wasn’t that hard to drive, now that Eric looked around at the controls. Same as any. The break was a little more tense than he was used to, but once he got it onto the road, he could manage. 

Phillip, in shotgun, turned on a jazzy, late night radio station. And directed Eric gently towards their home, probably. Neither of them made conversation much but, to some extent, it didn’t seem like it was necessary. And that was kind of nice, to Eric. He didn’t always like conversing, especially with patrons and folks who didn’t know him. Which accounted for most people. But Phillip’s presence was nice, calming almost, which was rich for a guy who Eric had just met. He was tense, like he usually was, but for a stranger? In this kind of precarious circumstance?

It’s when the drive took them onto a small, two-lane road at the edges of the city and beginnings of the forest that Eric starts to worry. Was Marlowe actually a heavy-weight? Maybe he was pretending to be drunk back there so they could mug him? Take his kindness for granted and leave him in a ditch? He didn’t think he looked like he was worth mugging, but like….maybe. Was that a necessary cane or was it a weapon?

“It’s this-this house here,” Phillip said, pointing to a gravel driveway, and Eric swallowed despite the dryness of his mouth. 

“Sure,” he murmured, pulling onto the gravel. 

As he did, the house’s porch light turned on, front door thrown open as someone else jogged out. Eric stopped, threw the car into park immediately, but Phillip didn’t seem too phased by the newcomer. Instead, he turned to Eric and held out a one hundred dollar bill. “Thank you so much for all your help this evening,” he said with a smile.

Eric looked at the bill, then up at Phillip. He hadn’t really expected to be tipped for this, in all honesty. But it made sense. You know, if he’s going to drive you home, tip him. He’s done over the top enough. But a hundred fucking dollars? This dude just whipped a hundred dollars out on a tip? How loaded were these gay dudes, and then they didn’t have someone to drive them home?

“That’s a hundred dollars,” he said, unthinking. 

He blushed a little, stuttering on words to add on and say he didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but Phillip just laughed. His laugh was breezy, like leaves in the wind. “Yes, it’s a hundred dollars. I think it’s-it’s warranted, considering you drove me and my idiot home,” Phillip put the bill on Eric’s lap and undid his seatbelt. “It’s a hundred dollars plus something-something extra.”

Eric looked down at the bill, picked it up, and there was. A whole ass phone number written on the side. With the “Phillip & Marlowe” written on the side. 

Before he can ask what the fuck is happening and if he’s been dreaming this whole time, the backseat door opens. “Davy,” Marlowe’s voice is so slurred it’s almost incomprehensible, but the person who’d come out of the house, this “Davy,” unbuckles Marlowe swiftly. 

“Jesus, Marl’, how much did you drink?” Davy grumbles, pulling Marlowe out by his arms. 

Instead of setting him on the ground, though, Davy just wrapped them around his shoulders and then slowly, steadily, lifted Marlowe into his arms. Marlowe let him, swinging his own legs up to make it easier for Davy to catch them. Once he had some semblance of a grip, Marlowe leaned forward and pressed his face against Davy’s, kissing him rough enough for Phillip to laugh at, Eric to stare confusedly at. 

“He gets like this, when he’s-when he’s drunk,” Phillip leaned over to explain, though it does nothing to clear up Eric’s questions. 

At this point? He’s a lot more willing to walk home. Just get out of the car and walk. 

“Alright, y’ sap,” Davy grumbles, pulling Marlowe off of himself and nestling him into more of a hold. 

Eric was still sitting in the driver seat, just watching through the passenger window as Phillip opens his own door and climbs out. Davy leans his head towards Phillip, who pats his shoulder warmly and looks down at Eric. 

All three of them are looking at him now. 

The odd one out. 

And, like, fair. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing here, either. 

“Uh,” he said. “I can just, uh. I can call myself an Uber now.”

“Who the fuck’re you?” Davy asked, almost at exactly the same time.

Eric put his hands up and slowly climbed out of the car. This Davy person didn’t really look mad—Phillip leaned over, whispering something to him, and Davy nodded along. And Eric didn’t know what the fuck that was about really, but he didn’t feel in the mood to test anything. Not at three in the morning, in someone else’s driveway. He had to get back home. 

“I can just….” Eric gestured to the road again, taking a few steps back. 

Davy shook his head. “No fuckin’ way, dude,” he was much more abrasive than the other two, and something in the sturdiness of his tone got Eric to shut up. “I’ll drive you.”

On literally any other day, Eric would probably have started running right then and there. His palms were sweaty still, from gripping the steering wheel tighter than ever and from the mounting panic of driving someone else’s car to a house he didn’t know. In a car with a bunch of strangers. 

But, to be frank, Eric was just starting to believe this wasn’t real. 

He was probably just tired. He didn’t usually work shifts this late, and this was a whirlwind of a night already, and he’d already swallowed whatever panic arose earlier, which usually left him without the energy to worry about semi-tense situations. It was a kinda numb feeling. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He dies and Gavin goes back with their parents? Bit too late in the night for Eric to care about something as trivial as dying. 

So he nodded slowly to Davy’s suggestion. “That would be nice,” he said. 

Davy grinned. He lifted Marlowe a little and said, “I’ll put this one to bed and come back out, ‘ight?” 

Eric just nodded again, which must have been good enough for Davy, because he just turned around and marched himself back into the house. Phillip stayed outside, though, leaning on his cane with both of his hands. Eric shuffled around the car, now feeling a little more awkward, and Phillip gave him a small shrug as if to say he sympathized.

“I’m sure this is-this is strange,” Phillip added on. 

It sure as fuck was. But Eric was like, almost too out of it to properly acknowledge that. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “This’ gonna be one hell of a dream to wake up from.”

Phillip chuckled at that one, laugh light like air. He leaned over and rested a hand on Eric’s shoulder—Eric flinched, hands reaching up into a defensive stance, and Phillip pulled back quick. 

It was. A little out of his comfort zone. 

Just a little. He didn’t like people touching him, especially people he didn’t know, because for the longest time he’d been used to sudden motions as a threat. And while he used to take it, Eric had long since trained himself to fight over flight. So it did take self-control to not just deck this dude.

He turned back around to Phillip, shoulders hiked enough for his neck to stiffen just a bit, and he tried to lower his own hands. They were shaking, much to his chagrin, so he stuffed them into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Sorry,” he fumbled over his words. “Sorry, I, uh. I’m kinda...it’s late, and I don’t really like, uh. People touching me.”

“No need to apologize, that-that was on me,” Phillip responded. “No need at all. I should-I should have known better, but I’m ti-I guess I’m tired my-myself. I’m very sorry for touching.”

Eric smoothed himself out slowly, as best he could, and Phillip rested himself against the side of the car. He glanced over, watching Phillip as the man looked up at the tree line. In the moonlight, Eric could see him smile, ever so slightly. He looked weirdly regal, with how prim he was, even after being at a dive bar for three hours. His hair was still brushed to the side like it’d been gelled, though Eric had seen him run his hand through it a few times. And although it was dark, he could still make out the freckles that dotted Phillip’s face, like stars in their own right.

He turned away, looking at his feet, and hoped Phillip didn’t feel too badly. It wasn’t his fault Eric was a nervous fuckin’ wreck. But he didn’t say anything. Getting a little too tired to hold proper conversation.

They both look up as the front door opens and closes again, as that Davy guy jogs out. He’d changed out of his clothes into other pajama looking clothes, or maybe he’d just thrown on a jacket. 

“Alright, nerd’s been sung a lullaby and is all tucked into bed.” He clapped his hands, rubbing them together slowly. “You gonna be able to get yourself in bed okay, Princey?”

“Oh, I’ll be okay. Just-Just sad my favorite artist won’t be there to kiss me goodnight,” Phillip said, and Eric did a double take at how flippantly the flirt was doled out.

Wasn’t Phillip dating that Marlowe guy? Eric glanced between Davy and Phillip as Davy scoffed and grabbed Phillip by the shoulder of his sweater, yanking him close and kissing him for a second. Were they like, all dating? Was that what was happening here? 

Eric was more confused than anything else. He knew of polyamory. He’d just never seen it. Then again, he didn’t know about a lot in the queer community. Once, one of the queens who came in for drag night called him “gnc as hell” and he had to get an explanation from one of the girls sitting at the bar. Polyamory, though, was a new kind of fear for him. That was just more people to disappoint. 

He looked back at the car and climbed into the passenger seat while Davy pulled back from Phillip and mussed up his hair. Eric very intentionally ignored eye contact while Davy climbed into the driver’s seat and rolled down Eric’s window, though he did wave at Phillip while Davy pulled away.

“Drive safely, David!” Phillip called out, waving a hand. 

“Be back in a sec, baby!” David must have been his name proper, because he blew Phillip a kiss through the window and then rolled it back up. 

Eric just kept sitting. Quietly. He almost wanted to pull his knees up, but this was someone else’s car and he didn’t really want to put his shoes on the leather seats. He put his hands on his knees, though, and tensed his knuckles a little. 

Whereas the ride to the house was quiet in a calm manner, Eric felt a lot more tense now. He didn’t know this David. And this David dude seemed a lot less poised than Phillip or Marlowe, given how he just turned off the radio and mumbled music lyrics, off-key and without any actual tune. And Eric could recognize that only because, at some point, David was singing some Shinedown song he knew. “State of My Head?” Probably. 

Would David be mad? If this was a polyamory situation, would it be like encroaching on territory to have driven Phillip and Marlowe home? Eric didn’t know. He didn’t want it to seem like that; he just didn’t want them to have to call an Uber and get a ticket. Shit was expensive. 

At the first red light off the one-lane road, David glanced at him, and Eric caught the sight of a birthmark near his neck. It looked faded but it was still a recognizable shade of red. Eric looked away almost immediately, so David wouldn’t notice him staring. He must not have been too successful, though, because David chose that moment to start a conversation.

[matrixwhore]

.

k…so…hmm i don’t know if i’ll leave this up. im truly in a moment where i just wanna be lowkey. i don’t exactly want to be perceived too much rn. but this pride is really important to me. and i don’t really even know if this is worth anyone’s time, but i feel like i should say something...if only just to be able to look back and see that i did celebrate in my own way.

i don’t think i’ve had a pride where i’ve experienced it the way i would have liked, tho this is the year where i really feel whats at the heart of it the most. im queer and genderfluid/nonbinary. not just in how i love, but also how i live. i’ve had some recent revelations about all that that’s been really exciting, but a lot of figuring myself out happened in the midst of a great deal of crisis so there hasn’t been very much, joy or celebration these past few years. last year in particular was so hard i experience such a severe period of anhedonia and apathy i didn’t think i’d see the other side of it. iwtv was the first thing i was able to fully enjoy, and feel the enjoyment, and then coming on here and meeting so many amazing lgbtq+ people (espc. my black mutuals) has been mind altering. not even an exaggeration! talking and sharing ideas and laughing and just enjoying you guys has shifted my life experience in ways i wish you knew. i wish words could express it, but i don't think they really can. so i guess this is a thank you to my gay vampire show family as it is a very real celebration that i chose to watch it and that i'm still here.

there used to be a goal post for not being here. and wanting to see S2 shifted that. and then immersing myself within this fandom experience gave me reasons to push it further. and then suddenly i was being inspired to do things for me that i had given up on just bc connections i've made. and now i dont even know where that goal post is. it used to be so clear and in sight. i was almost a statistic in the worst way. one of the most effective way to erase us is by making us take ourselves out of life so they can say it was us all along. something was wrong within is. but nothing is wrong with all the beautifully complex and chaotic ways i exist. something is wrong with a society that doesn't want me in it when the world clearly does. when it keeps giving me reasons to keep going and keep fighting despite the opposition. even if i took myself out, i couldn't be erased anyways bc i’m so loved. as i am. im loved. and i love and that’s really untouchable. on the other side of not being able to feel, and not being able to care. im reminded im loved. and i feel it now. and i care so much about it that its given me fight. its given me the stubbornness and spite required to live in all this.

i think a lot about this.

[image description: a poem by Lucille Clifton titled - won’t you celebrate with me.

won’t you celebrate with me

what i have shaped into

a kind of life? i had no model

born in babylon

both nonwhite and woman

what did i see to be except myself?

i made it up

here on this bridge between

starshine and clay,

my one hand holding tight

my other hand; come celebrate

with me that everyday

something has tried to kill me

and has failed.

end image description]

i know theres a lot of pain. and grief and uncertainty that exists throughout this fandom. i know there’s a lot people are experiencing that they aren't sharing or getting into. if my life is anything to go by i know that suffering in this life can sometimes be so egregious you question what it’s all for. i question that a lot. even now. and i don't have an answer really. I don't think it’s my place to answer that for others anyways. but i’m celebrating you guys bc you’ve helped me feel. and care. and i attribute so much of the joys i’ve had these past several months to getting to experience you all. you were here when i came searching for something to connect to. even if i didn’t realize that’s what i was doing at the time. we’re here together now. and you may not know it or feel it. but just you being here ripples and reaches. so i really hope you’ll celebrate with me. they didn't kill us. and the ones that have passed live on in the ways we still love them. still grieve them. and honor them in everything we do. our lives are written in pen and permanent marker all over the world. they’ll tear off the flesh of their fingers, raw and bloody, before they ever succeed in wiping us away. we’re rooted in the core. the earth remembers us and keeps bringing us back. bc we belong here. happy pride.

[spearohero]

what are some of your favorite stories! yours, other people's, small, big, etc! that's probably a big thing to think about so if you want something specific ummm recommend me a writer or three!

man!!! okay excellent question. i think ill still do three but ill talk about different things with each one; bear in mind that this is like, off the top of my head, so its not Definitive (ill try to sneak em in as honorable mentions but even stuff with a huge impact on me is gonna be harder to think of/talk about if it was like ten years ago, yknow?)

oh, and if you want to read my stories, you can see those here =3c

Kill Six Billion Demons

this one probably has to be The Bar for quality in my mind, at least at the moment.

82 White Chain Born In Emptiness Returns To Subdue Evil (yes, full name) has maybe one of the most compelling character arcs i've ever read;

the art is stunning, and the worldbuilding incredibly thorough (in a way that makes the history of the world feel dynamic and relevant, rather than just being tons of lore to sift through);

the fights whip ass and the logic of the cool shit that the characters do is directly tied to the underlying view the story has about Power™, which directly influenced my thought process for a lot of the plot details of "Dawnsister";

and, sort of related to the two previous points, the entire thing is just so fucking coherent, thematically speaking. all the side stories and bits of hover text, all the bits of commentary and passages from fictional manuscripts in the image descriptions, weave together and do some really good allegorical storytelling for the messages Abaddon wants to send (and to underline/counterpoint whats happening in the comic itself), and the details tend to come back later to be relevant in a big way

its just. high marks on literally every metric i can think of. this is the kind of "every line (both kinds) is crammed with intent and nothing is wasted" stuff i wanna do with my writing

(honorable mention for this category: Everything Everywhere All At Once, for sheer quality of writing and similar levels of "god they planned this from the fucking start". one of the only films to make me cry)

Homestuck (im not linking it we all know this one)

i have less to say about this, but i think its one of the stories that's had the biggest stylistic impact on my writing. i was kind of doing it even before reading homestuck but it SUPER cemented it: the 2nd-person voice and the fuckery where a character's thoughts, the narrator's description of a scene, and instructions from the audience/in-universe sources of Brain Interference all blend together is something i keep coming back to in both 3rd-person limited perspective AND 2nd-person (typically transformation-related) work

it also takes all the "using every possible avenue for Additional Storytelling" thing that i was describing about KSBD and ratchets it the fuck up. like this comic is repeatedly the benchmark for "what kind of weird, media-mixing, format-breaking shit can i do with comic panels and text rendering", even if i dont plan to dabble in webpage shenanigans like Hussie did

(i cant think of an honorable mention here, but i liked the way Tyranny presented lore and history to you in hyperlinks in the text, so that you could just HAVE background information your character would have instead of having to Do Exposition. also check out Vast Error if you liked the shit homestuck was doing with multimedia storytelling)

Ascension: Tales of Twin Tails

this one is just one of my favorites. out of this list its for sure been the most impactful on me personally, in like an identity sense at least. this shit transed my gender and othered my kin. its one of the only OTHER pieces of media to ever make me teary-eyed. its about being transgender extremely literally but also in some really creative And Also Extremely Dope ways

the fight scenes are about as grand in scope as the ones in KSBD, and the way that magic works in the setting is just about as thematically-strong (and also offer lots of room for insight about the characters, as well as self-reflection for the reader to have fun with).

the relationships are really, really well-done, and there are scenes that stick with me two years later as just strikingly and stunningly tender and intimate and vulnerable; the characters are just as strong (Coyotl is like, Top Three with White Chain, and if you know anything about me at all you know that Cat Kitten became my entire identity for months after reading it)

read it please read it i will evangelize this novel until the end of time

(honorable mention as far as having an effect on Me As A Person is probably like..... Night in the Woods; super super natural dialogue, lots of compelling relationship turmoil and hit some fears that were Extremely Relevant to me at the time of my life that i played it)

ty for asking btw!! i hope you get around to enjoying one of these =^w^=

[aquanthis]

can u infodump about Solomon. Please. I know I’ve heard a bit about him but go wild. give me the full essay. if this is a movie theatre I’m sitting there front row very excited 🥹🖤🫶‼️‼️

JUMPING UP AND DOWN SO FAST !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SOLOMON VALE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this cringe fucking loser (<- said in a way that makes it clear i want him in a way that would get me burned at the stake)

(please forgive the fact that all the images are full size, i've literally been trying to fix it for 15 minutes and tumblr just reverts it back every time and i'm literally so mad about it)

yes i can infodump about him. yes i always can. this fucker altered my brain chemistry at 15-16 years old and continues to make me ill to this day.

welcome to the first introduction of magicverse on this blog hehehe my true agenda all along

(CW: child abuse/abuse in general, kidnapping, sort of graphic violence, sexual abuse (implied)/sex as a self-defense mechanism... basically any warning you'd put on astari*n's story can be applied here. they're shockingly similar. i would avoid talking about some of this stuff if it wasn't so important story-wise, sorry ^^;)

anyway. look at him again. your reward for opening the readmore

okay so, i'm gonna have to elaborate on some worldbuilding first because otherwise a lot of this doesn't make sense.

there are six major types of entities in magicverse, with some notable offshoots. but in the context of solomon, i will be mainly referring to three: humans, sorcerers, and demons. humans are exactly as they are in the real world, living normal lives unaware of magic. sorcerers are, in essence, humans who can see and interact with magic, with an additional thing: humans can't see them, hear them, or interact with them. magic still affects the real world, but to humans it looks like natural disasters or other strange phenomena, rather than what it actually is. demons are creatures that were originally humans, but were turned (similarly to vampires! except demons have to actually kill them rather than just biting) and are no longer human. they can interact with both humans and sorcerers, as well as anything in between, including magic. however, they can't manipulate magic.

USUALLY.

however! you remember that "notable offshoot" i was talking about? that's solomon, and his "siblings". but i'll talk about them later. for now, i'm going to talk about solomon and his "superior", servius.

solomon was born a sorcerer. you'll notice that in my description of demons, i said they were originally humans. and, the vast majority of them were, because turning sorcerers was forbidden long, long ago, by the sort of governing body that exercises control over demons, the "high demon council" (i'd like to find a better name for this someday but have never gotten around to it). however, servius, cocky piece of shit that he is, decided that he wanted to overthrow that governing body, and take control of the demons himself. and in order to do that, he needed an army. or, if not an army, an extremely powerful weapon.

and what extremely powerful weapon was available to him? sorcerers. because why would turning sorcerers be forbidden if it didn't pose a threat? but servius isn't particularly strong for a demon, and certainly not strong enough to take on a full blown sorcerer by himself. so, you know what he did?

he started hunting down sorcerer kids. impressionable, still weak enough prey. and solomon was the first.

sylvester vale was 9 years old, an only child, and so, so loved. his parents adored him; he was their whole world. he was a little shy, loved candy, and hated brushing his teeth.

and servius caught him on his way home one day, cut his head off, and made a puppet out of him. turned him into solomon.

the thing about demons, see, is that they can't disobey the orders of their "superiors", aka the ones who turned them. their bodies react when their superior speaks, whether they want to obey or not. suffice to say, it was disgustingly easy for servius to turn a boy into a weapon, horrifyingly simple to do whatever he needed to to get solomon to lose every ounce of defiance he had.

solomon doesn't remember his life "before". he doesn't remember his parents, hardly remembers even having any. it's been 150-ish years since then, after all, and everything servius did to him erased every bit of the boy he was before. the only remnants he has are the jagged scar on his neck and his fucked up teeth.

the other thing about demons is that, despite the fact that they can shapeshift, there are certain things they can't shapeshift away, usually "imperfections" of some kind that are either indicative of something from their prior life or scars from the way they were killed. solomon has both. like the universe getting one last spiteful laugh lol

anyway. so, once servius felt like he'd sufficiently erased every bit of "sylvester" from solomon (so, when solomon was older, about 16) he started training him. and it was true that a sorcerer-turned-demon was far more powerful than any normal demon, even if solomon was still just a scrawny, fucked up teenager. not only did he have the superhuman strength of a demon and the ability to shapeshift, he also still had his magic. a demon with magic, and not only that, but he still had the ability to interact with humans. and that was a strength that no one else could claim.

so, that cemented the plan: to craft superweapon demon children, and twist them, and break them to obey servius's will. to eventually overthrow the demon society as they knew it.

it took a long time for servius to find other targets. sorcerers are few and far between, and sorcerer children even moreso. so it was just solomon for a long time, and in the meantime he learned to do as demons do: haunt the streets, pick targets to turn, make more. it was a good distraction, if anything, to drown himself in city nightlife and bars and sex and doing what he had been taught to do: kill. he got so good at it that he did it without thinking, because it was all he really knew how to do. for about a hundred years. he turned into a charismatic, flirtatious, murdering monster. a good, true villain. back then, anyway

there were others that servius tried to turn, over those years. but they were failures, either failing to turn and just dying instead, or simply being impossible to break and being killed for real (the holy water kind). and solomon felt nothing. but then servius got sick of doing it himself, and went, hm! well, i have a superweapon, after all! might as well finally use it! and sent solomon to do his dirty work.

now, you may be wondering, "grims, wouldn't they have to obey solomon then?" well not if solomon dragged them back to servius instead of killing them himself.

which was the plan. but the first time, solomon fucked up. lol

i have this other oc, lavern, who was solomon's first target. and solomon would've been able to handle it pretty easily. except that when he got to the point where he could drag him back to servius, he had this momentary thought of like, "okay, well, if i turned him myself though, i could get the upper hand on servius". because, like, it's not like he loved servius. he hated his fucking guts. but there was nothing he could do. so he thought, well, if i turn this kid, maybe he can be my weapon. and he started to do it, started to kill him. but about halfway through, he suddenly felt sick, realizing this must've been what servius felt when he turned solomon, and he stopped.

unfortunately, something went wrong, and lavern ended up becoming some weird half-demon half-sorcerer amalgam that kind of just made him weaker instead of stronger. and solomon is saddled with the guilt of permanently fucking this kid up because he got greedy. but it's only a little guilt, because we must remember solomon was kind of a piece of shit at this point. 👍 he does end up hiding lavern in his apartment though because he feels bad. he kind of ends up like a little brother to solomon, and that's where solomon's "siblings" start.

servius got mad at him for this, of course (solomon lied and said he failed and the kid died) and never let him go hunting for him again. soon after that, servius hunted down a couple of other kids, an 8 year old and a 16 year old (and he was REALLLLLLY lucky on that one), and successfully turned them. lili and jem, solomon's other siblings. and servius began calling them "horsemen," some tongue-in-cheek joke because he meant to make a fourth one. solomon, death. lili, famine. jem, war. and the last would be pestilence.

but he never got the chance to make a fourth one. there's a long story about the first person solomon ever fell in love with, the thing that changed him from this mostly heartless monster to something salvageable, but it's something i kind of want to rework because it involves an oc that is not mine and that feels wrong to still use. the plot would remain the same, but the details would need to be different. but the jist is, solomon sticks his neck out for someone he really shouldn't have, because he got stupid and possessive of an enemy, and it leads to him saving them from being permanently obliterated, and in return they eventually kill servius in a blind rage because servius tries to get solomon to kill them. and they basically destroy themself in the process. and solomon is left alone again. :)

so for about 20 years, solomon's alone with no servius and just his siblings, one of which (jem) hates him so much and keeps trying to kill him, and the other two who he has no idea how to deal with. and he has this new problem of having grown to care about someone enough to fall in love with them and then losing them and having no idea how to deal with these feelings he now knows he's capable of. and it sucks, and he's miserable, and he starts randomly taking jobs just to fill his time.

and that's how he meets meko, a sorcerer, and solomon's future husband (seb's oc who i literally go fucking crazy over!)

i'm only saying how they met because i think seb would be disappointed in me if i didn't. we were like 17 when we came up with this so please forgive how juvenile it is though it's in character JKSHJDKJSD. but anyway uh, it was originally just a joke, but i had solomon working the night shift as a cashier at a sex toy store because he would do that (he enjoys people watching). and meko, yknow, being a sorcerer, figured he could just go in and steal whatever he wanted because it's not like anyone would be able to see him, right? but he didn't expect a demon to be working the register LMFAO so uh. yeah. solomon calls him out on it because no one else is there and meko being meko is like "hey i'll suck your dick if you let me go" because he's. normal. solomon doesn't take him up on it but it's still funny to me. also meko's first impression of solomon is, and i quote, "That has to be the palest motherfucker I've ever seen in my entire fucking life," which i still think is a hilarious first impression and also extremely true.

anyway uhhhh jem shows up and tries to kill solomon again when meko's there and solomon has to save him, but then it ends up with this whole debacle where solomon takes meko to his pocket dimension apartment but can't get him back out immediately and it's a whole ridiculous way to meet. but they just keep running into each other over and over despite not trying to and they disastrously fall for each other because they're equally weird and chaotic. but meko is terminally ill and doesn't tell solomon until he's so weak he can't hide it, and solomon loses it because. well. the other person he loved died unexpectedly and it's Bad. so solomon, despite his better judgment, offers to turn meko into a demon (or, well, a horseman, but, semantics) to "save" his life. so he wouldn't have to lose him. and meko lets him.

it's a scene i've wanted to write for YEAAAARS but solomon kills him by stabbing meko in the back while he's holding him. and he feels so sick the whole time because he told himself he'd never turn anyone again and much less a sorcerer, but here he is killing the man he loves and turning him into a monster just like he is and technically fulfilling servius's wish by making a fourth demon-sorcerer. but it's worth it, he tells himself, if he gets to keep meko with him.

and like, he doesn't regret it, but it's guilt that still haunts him even in current day. he still has nightmares about it. it sucks. it's bad. i'm sad about meko and solomon sorry i think about them a lot

but anyway look at them

absolutely obsessed w/ them. they're gross <3

anyway uh last but not least, after they've, yknow, settled a bit, solomon accidentally stumbles upon two demon kids (twins. they're literally like 4) who got turned and abandoned by their parents, and solomon feels sorry for them and picks them up, not really intending to keep them but not wanting them to rot on the street ("i'm not running an orphanage here but god i just can't leave em there" he says, lying about not running an orphanage). and he gets attached, because of course he does. and that's how meko and solomon end up with adrian and blaine, two absolute freaklets.

and that's (mostly!) the solomon story, skipping over or skimming some major things LOL i love him so so much i'm sorry

oh uh bonus trivia:

he has a giant scraggly black cat named death who can talk and also turn into a horse (though i haven't decided if i want to keep the horse thing. it's kind of a leftover thing from the original horseman idea that i only halfway scrapped). they fucking hate each other but death sticks around anyway and solomon has no idea why. he actually likes the kids though and solomon is baffled and confused by this

"sylvester" was actually trans and was still like, settling into that when he got killed, and solomon has literally no memory of this and thinks he's amab because he's been shapeshifted as such for so long. it's kind of funny to me but also sad :(

i didn't really get to mention this but solomon's magic type is teleportation! or, like, more specifically teleportation/pocket dimensions sort of? it's a little nebulous but basically he can teleport himself and also summon things from other places as long as he knows exactly where it is. so he has like, a shit ton of knives and other weapons stored at his apartment and can just summon them at will. he can also teleport other people but it takes a lot of energy and he has to be touching them

demons all have, like, "true" forms and solomon's is his original body carrying its own head + goop wings and stuff. i wish so badly that i could draw so i could design it but aughhghhg.

when i originally made him, i was trying to prove i could make an "irredeemable" character because a friend thought i couldn't, and i was like, oh yeah? and i made him and originally he was but then i. got attached . and redeemed him. so i failed. LOL oops

i think that's all for now !!! i love him so much. guy who rewired me. i'm still fucked up about how similar he and astari*n are and it further proves that i could never put solomon in the public eye because people can't help being freaks. but i digress

solomon vale NUMERO UNO!!!!!! he's a disaster! mwah!

[shadowsong26fic]

So, for some reason, I got the little flag saying I had a message, and I got the email alert, but when I go to my inbox the ask doesn't actually show up??? Thanks, tumblr. Anyway, hence the screencap from my email because sure.

[image description: an ask from @blackdragonhellfire: I'd love to hear more about your Star Wars WIPS! Especially the 2023 Big Bang fic] [end ID]

So, the two I listed are our faces like a mirror, which is something I've been working on for. Many Years Now, lol, and SWBB 2023 [Anakin & Ahsoka AU], which did not actually come together for 2023 and should probably be renamed for 2024 but that's a future me problem, lol.

More details behind the cut because I get Wordy.

OFLAM is a story about Bo-Katan and Satine Kryze, and how the civil war when they were teens impacted them and radicalized them in opposite directions. The story is told entirely from Bo's point of view and covers a roughly ten-year period, from when Bo leaves Sundari a few months before Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon turn up to when she eventually joins Death Watch. The way I had it structured does ignore some later timeline revelations because insert Nick Fury gif here. I have Bo as two years younger than her sister; their father dies when she's sixteen and Satine is eighteen and the war starts in the aftermath; she's sent away into hiding on her own (with two allies/bodyguards) not long after that. A few months later, her bodyguards are killed, and she escapes alone. This is when Satine reaches out to the Republic/Jedi Order for help and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan get involved.

Bo does go back to Sundari when she hears her sister won the war and is more securely established as Duchess now, and the two of them try to make it work for a while (especially because Korkie is involved), but their different responses to the war just keep making that gap between them get wider and wider and eventually Bo leaves, about eight years after her return. This is a snippet from the epilogue but...well, foregone conclusion; we all know where Bo ends up:

“You think my sister’s beliefs define mine?” I asked. “I think I wonder if she sent you here.” “Why would she?” I asked. “Deception and subterfuge like that isn’t her style. If she knew what you were building here, she’d come after you directly. She’d come herself to get a look, if she wanted more proof. She wouldn’t send me. Not like this. If you think that, you don’t know my sister at all. You’re way off the mark.” “And what about you, Lady Kryze?” he asked, the title curling sarcastically through his helmet’s vocoder. Now I pulled my blaster, and fired one clean shot, cutting the antenna off his helmet. He, along with every other true Mandalorian gathered there, was less than a beat behind. I counted twelve guns pointed at me, and smiled. “I never miss my mark, Lord Viszla.”

The Anakin and Ahsoka AU was something I'd planned to write for SWBB this past year, but it didn't come together in time. I'm hoping to use it for next year (so there won't be any snippet shared like the last one).

Background:

This is an AU where Padme's ship went somewhere Not Tatooine for repairs; handwaving that the rest of TPM went Close Enough To The Same, even though that's not really the focus of the AU, but just to limit the fallout.

Anakin's background in this fic is--he and his mother were sold separately about two years after TPM takes place. Anakin connects with an underground movement and participates in what is ultimately a failed slave revolt. He's one of the few who manages to get away with his life, and realizes that an all-out revolt is not in the cards, with the resources/etc. available. So he spends his time smuggling supplies and people in and out of Hutt space, sometimes attacking known slavers when he thinks he has the resources. Always looking for his mom.

Fast forward to about halfway through the Clone Wars; by this point Anakin has a pretty hefty price on his head in Hutt space, but is only vaguely known to the Republic and the Separatists. Ahsoka, meanwhile, has been assigned as a Padawan about three to six months into the War (probably Obi-Wan; but I've also considered matching her up with Mace instead).

She ends up crashing on a planet where Anakin has stopped for a few weeks to restock on supplies/etc. They run into each other and pretty much immediately click; they stumble across a Separatist plot that will result in a Lot of civilian casualties and foil it, continuing to bond/adopt each other along the way.

And then the rest should be saved for when I actually write it, since unlike OFLAM, this is Not a Foregone Conclusion ending, lol.

[waifuofbath]

3 and 9, whichever fandom you prefer :3c

Ok so, let's go with Patho because we all know this is the fandom I've been moving the most in the last few years.

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Ok cannot remember exactly if it was on tumblr or on twitter, (I think it was on twitter) but I still feel like that reaction image of Michael Rodent gouging his eyes out when I think about it.

Which was a take that described Block as a fascist.

I'm sorry like... What??? Are we playing the same videogame???

Even if we disregard the context and the references (Hello, Russian-esque Army in a setting that looks vaguely early 20thC) , what in Block's whole character makes you think he is a fascist??? That he is part of the Army??? That he is wearing a long coat???

Seriously, he is trying to save the most people possible. Both in Classic and 2. IN 2 HE EVEN OPPOSES MARK DIRECTLY IN HIS PANTOMIME BECAUSE HE THOUGHT HE HAD BEEN SENT THERE TO SAVE PEOPLE AND SEES IT IS NOT SO, THAT HE MIGHT NEED TO KILL THOSE PEOPLE HE THOUGHT HE WOULD SAVE. WHAT MAKES YOU THINK A FASCIST WOULD DO THAT?

JUST WHAT?

9.worst part of canon

I'm gonna say it IMHO: The Kin being so underdeveloped, not even as characters but as a whole concept.

I get it might be out of certain monetary constraints or maybe other stuff that escapes me.

Still, IPL have a gold mine right there, conceptually speaking. And they have barely tapped onto it. I say this as a person who lists Nara as one of her favorite characters. (I think she actually has a depth a lot of people in the fandom seem to pass by.)

Where are my Kin Elders? Are there no companions of Taya's age that she could have around? I'm not even asking for more variety on the Herb Brides but... idk just tell me how their thing goes? What about those of the Kin who have been in close contact with the Town (Like the dancer in the Broken Heart or the Worms that work in Vladito's well)? Do they hate it or maybe have they grown to love it and they feel as displaced as the townspeople do in the Nocturnal Ending? WHAT IS THE HISTORY OF THE KIN? I WANT MORE ON BODDHO AND SUOK AND BOS TUROKH!!!

Thank goodness I wrote a lot about it (If anyone's interested I shall share links) but man. Something more in canon would have been so good.

[skeysesil]

So, since I've gotten back on the Halloween bandwagon, I really need to get this off my chest, months after the premier of Ends, which, by the way, I do like, it just doesn't follow exactly the narrative set by its predecessors but it's still a good movie.

Ever since I watched it, some things didn't sit well with me regarding the vibe it gave off, and I hope it'll make sense because there's also a theory I came across that helps me give shape to everything.

Why does it feel and look like it was shot in the early 80s? The music? The fashion? The houses? Kills was clearly set in 2018 as it followed the previous one, but what happened to Ends?

The theory I came across mentioned something about how the movie itself is how it is written by Laurie in her book, which from how I see it would make perfect sense and would explain the tone of the entire narrative, why Allyson sometimes wears the same colors or clothes Laurie wore in the original Halloween, why Corey is a striking image of Michael, why the music sounds the way it sounds, why Willy the Kid himself looks like he came out from a late 70s fashion magazine.

I understand what they tried to do with Karen in '18 and Kills by giving her the same hairstyle and color as Laurie, now in Ends Allyson sporting the same length and wavey texture, but what stood out the most was Allyson's all-denim outfit in one of the scenes, and we all know Laurie's ironic denim outfit from '78.

Then there's Corey. Sorry but there's no way in Hell Corey was not made into Michael's spitting image. Curly hair and coveralls, that's all I'm going to say, and in juxtaposition with Laurie's fight in the closet and seeing Michael without his mask for the first time, my brothers in Christ, that is a psychological print right there, because how else would you explain Corey's looks when it could easily be the description stuck in Laurie's mind? She was so traumatized at that moment that the image had been burnt in the back of her brain.

Also, you can't tell me Ends Laurie is the same Laurie from 2018 and Kills. It's impossible to go to therapy and suddenly do a one-eighty twist, it makes no sense, you can't make something that lasted for fourty years disappear in just four, adding the death of your daughter.

Make it make sense.

If I touch on the concept of Allyson and Corey as a parallel to Laurie's book, it is, in my opinion, the relationship she perhaps sought to have with Michael, IF Michael was "normal". Even so, Corey is Michael if Michael never killed Judith, and grew up in society among the rest of Haddonfield's residents, high school graduate, working as a mechanic, and living a violent love story with the slightly younger babysitter.

For fourty years Michael wanted one thing, and that was highlighted in the last moments of his life in Ends: to hold Laurie's hand.

It is mentioned by Sondra's sister and highlighted by Corey:

“Do you see what he did to my sister? He killed her husband and he stabbed her. Took her voice! She cannot speak because of you! You tempted and you provoked that man when you should’ve left him alone.”

in Halloween 1978, Laurie sings "I wish I had you all alone, just the two of us", as she is seen walking away from the Myers' house

“You should give in. You should surrender to that feeling you had the first time you ever looked into his eyes. You secretly hope Michael comes back for you.”

Corey was onto something here but analyzed from a different perspective, Corey's words could be something coming from a voice inside Laurie's head, her own desire.

Ever since Kills came out, my main theory was that the wrath of Haddonfield was what fed Michael and that Michael was the personification of their anger, which would explain why he was impossible to hold down, but in Ends? If that theory applies, it would also be an answer to why he was so absent and weak.

I would honestly say so much more but I am so tired and feel so drained and with too many ideas in my head trying to be written down at once. Hope I'm not the only one, and by all means, do interact with this post, I want to read other ideas/opinions too.

[always-andromeda]

just some thoughts that I've been having as of late; or, reflections on being a fat girl and self image.

(tw: descriptions of fatphobia, my toxic self image, and disordered eating)

I scroll through the endless stream of Tiktok videos. Swipe. Like video. Swipe. Like video. Swipe–

Then I see a woman holding up her phone as she looks at herself in a public restroom mirror. She's wearing jeans and a t-shirt tucked into it. Her long, dark hair is in little waves and her cheeks practically glow a rosy pink.

"I just looked at myself in this mirror and said, damn," she flips her hair and poses with a hand on her hip. "Damn. Like you're joking? This Joanne's bathroom got me acting different."

A simple, innocent twenty second video. Twenty seconds of a woman existing. A woman who happens to have a double chin. A woman who happens to have big arms. A woman who happens to have a tummy. A woman that doesn't look too much unlike I do.

And I hate that this is one of the first things that I feel, but I feel a pit in my stomach. Because as much as I already love and adore this woman and her outfit and her energy and think that she is genuinely beautiful...I know what I'm going to see when I click on the comment section. But I click anyways. Because part of me still wants to be proven wrong.

I am not proven wrong.

"Oh ok"

"Damn is the right reaction 💀"

"...huh"

"is that so..."

"If she fell on me I'd cry"

"I said dayum too but not in a good way"

"The heavy breathing 💀"

Those are just the ones that showed up first; the ones that got hundreds of likes. Sure, there are hundreds of other people who also chime in with the quintessential, "slay, queen!" and "period!" and "as you should, babes!" But those don't show up first. The hate and disbelief and lazy jokes and the rest of the scum floats to the top instead.

And I am left with the lingering emptiness. The feeling whistles in my head like wind blowing through a tunnel that's so long that I can only see a pinprick of light at the end.

I want to know what we ever did to be hated for simply existing. What did I and any other fat person do to deserve having it hammered into our brains that we could never be looked at normally? Because I've lived with this shit for twenty years. From the second that I noticed that my growing body happened to be bigger than the majority of the kids around me, I automatically associated that difference as a negative. Because I also noticed how nearly everyone treated me.

When I had a crush on a boy, all of his friends teased him about it. Because look, the troll is in love with you, buddy; hilarious! Having skinny friends who would assure me that, "No, you're totally not fat!" as if fatness was the worst thing possible. When I had skinny friends who would make fun of fat people and expect me to laugh with them. As if they were pulling me aside and whispering, "You can laugh too! Because you're not like those fat people. You're different. You're a cool fat girl!"

And, gosh, I used to take pride in that! I used to be so happy that my skinny friends could laugh at other fat people...but they would let me laugh with them. All I had to do was never eat around them. And suck in my stomach every time I hung out with them. And hide my body with baggy clothing. And work out just enough so that at least they knew that I wasn't content with having this body.

In their eyes, I was in this weird grey area. I was a fat girl that they could respect. Because I could look at myself and go, "Hey, I know that all of this is ugly. But it's not like I wanted it! In fact, I'm practically killing myself to fix it! Because I will fix it someday! I will fix it and there won't be this flaw of mine that you'll have to tolerate! One day you can look at me and you won't be lying when you say that I'm not fat or that I look so pretty! One day you can actually love me. I promise, I'll earn it."

I never earn their love.

I tear my temple down. I pull myself apart, brick by brick, and attempt to build myself a new home. But the glue is separating and never quite solidifies. With a simple shove, the wall falls. And I weaken them even further with my guttural screams. I obliterate my own body in hopes that the world will look at the rubble and congratulate me.

And they never do.

Because for some people, me simply existing is enough to make them mad. Me having the audacity to stand there, living in a body that they wouldn't want to fuck, is enough to dehumanize me. Enough to think that this is the sign of society's downfall. That all of the ugly and disgusting parts of the world can be attributed to the fact that people like me somehow disrupt their beautiful existence.

And I typically have something more poetic to say. But I simply want to scream. I want to scream every curse I can think that isn't my own name and rip out something that isn't my hair and knock down walls that aren't my own. I want to destroy something that isn't me. Because I'm tired of the target for that rage being me.

For now, that target is this post. This godforsaken vent about one of the things that fills me with the most anxiety and discomfort. One of the issues that I've held so deep that it took me over a year to talk about my body image issues with my therapist. Because I want to feel normal. I want to look at myself like that woman looked at herself in that Joanne's bathroom mirror. And I want to think to myself, "Damn..." And, strangely, even more I want to be able to take a video of myself and not give a single fuck what anyone has to say about it.

I have destroyed myself enough. To my body, I am sorry. The world is unkind enough and I certainly didn't help you along any better. I'm sorry that I could never see you for the wonder that you are. I'm sorry that I starved you, ridiculed you, worked you to the bone, and waged war against you. Because it's a war we were always destined to lose.

This is my white flag. My ceasefire. My peace treaty, my name signed at the bottom in a pink glitter gel pen. I will try to do right by you from now on. I love you.