#it's social suicide! 🙃

[meyerlansky]

there's a nonzero chance this already exists but i am in fact Tormented by thoughts of a saltburn fanvid set to "ballad of a homeschooled girl" that starts off with ollie as the focus and then. shifts focus. the same way the movie does.

[there-will-be-a-way]

Guess who went to their local psych ward today? It's me 💁🏻‍♂️ This boy's seeking the help he deserves.

They didn't have any capacity rn though and since I'm not suicidal, they sent me home. But they got me a letter so that I can come back tomorrow or on Wednesday. Part of me wants to say I'll just take the option of being put on the waiting list so that I can make things worse in the meantime to "really be deserving of help".

I already packed my bag though so that I can go at any time. It was kind of reassuring that they said the only option would be to put me in the addiction ward. That made things real for me - yet on the other hand some portion of me still thinks I have no problem.

The docs were super cool about me being trans too. Didn't made a big deal out of it. Just asked me for my pronouns. They were really kind and helpful in general.

When waiting for the docs I said to my social worker, "If they don't have a bed for me, I'll just surrender to my fate and accept it." She took some time and said she doesn't see any other option than for me to just keep on drinking until I get help. Asked me to please not go cold turkey on my own.

The appointment at the place that helps victims of violence the guy was really nice as well.

It's strange how often people ask me how I'm even handling everything I have to carry and handle. My past. The conflicts of the present. And how I've been carrying it all by myself for so long.

The thing I get told the most is that I'm strong. "I don't think I am", I say. "I'm just doing what has to be done. There's no other way."

And the guy I had the appointment with said, "There is. You could have thrown yourself in front of a train. Many people do."

"That's not an option for me", I said.

It isn't.

It isn't.

[monstermoviedean]

i'm finding myself really bothered by assertions that mental illnesses are being caused directly by discrete and faceless factors (climate change, social media, etc). don't get me wrong, those can play a role in mental illness, but i think I find it so frustrating because ascribing blame to a phenomenon like that erases the human behavior that drives the problems with it. social media isn't necessarily the problem, it's how humans use and moderate social media, and the expectations they develop for others as a result. climate change is not occurring in a vacuum; the specific issue is human-driven climate change and inaction from people with the power to change it. i once heard someone who makes six figures say that we could entirely eliminate suicide by getting rid of bullying. i understand wanting to focus on systems and big changes but sometimes it's like the people in the systems don't exist at all.

[killerpancakeburger]

Breaking point (2/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Soap x GN!Reader

Ghost's version (1/2) Soap's part 2. Soap's part 3.

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Soap is tooth-rotting sweet.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃Soap is Prince Fucking Charming (very cliché romance tropes). Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

This bad good boy gave me a harder time than expected lol.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be Soap fucking Mactavish. Only the most gorgeous man on base - according to you, that is.

You weren't proud of it, but you had a crush on him since you arrived, six months ago. His piercing cerulean eyes, rugged good looks and outgoing personality wouldn’t let you know peace. The mere sight of him was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face, and every conversation between the two of you left you blushing and elated.

You initially thought that this silly, juvenile infatuation would fade away soon enough. Ok, he was beautiful, and he had eyes to damn yourself for, so what? Surely with enough time and exposure, he'd feel mundane. But things didn’t go that way at all.

On top of looking stunning, he just had to be friendly. He made you feel welcome when you arrived. He made efforts to include you in conversations, asking questions to get to know you. He relieved you of the burden of small talk, appeasing your social anxiety, by happily keeping the conversation going on his own, never taking offense when you had nothing to say. He chose to spend some of his free time with you, escorting you back from the archives or dropping by your office.

He was even flirty at times. Flirty. With you.

You could have still disregarded all this; tell yourself he was like this with everyone, that it was just his personality; imagining things would only end up with you hurt in the end.

But then, during a meeting, you witnessed his sincere concern for civilian lives. His righteous anger against unjust orders, when you had fully expected a soldier to obey mindlessly.

This had been your undoing; the moment you knew you were a goner. A severe fondness for him had sunk its claws deep inside your chest and had no intent to let go. It didn’t mean you had any intention to declare your feelings though; you never entertained the thought that he could return them, therefore there was no need for any confession.

For him to be the one to have caught you in this state, it was downright humiliating. Especially since his good heart would make him feel obligated to care.

He was still wearing his leather, fingerless gloves, and some dirt lingered on the contour of his face, like he tossed his weapons and his flak jacket to the side right out of the heli bringing him back to base, and rushed here.

“Hiya hen, brought you the- Shite, what happened?”

His booming voice and cheerful tone fade away as his eyes widen with concern. He briefly freezes at the door in shock before closing the distance to your desk with great strides. You lower your eyes in shame, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything's fine.”

“No offense, bonnie, but yer not very good at lying.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to look at him. Staring at your own lap is only going to make you seem more suspicious.

You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Soap turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced.

He still remembers that one time when you showed up thirty minutes late to a meeting with the Task Force, panting, leaning on the threshold, the front of your clothes soaked in blood.

 “Sorry I’m late,” you started.

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it,” Price interrupted before laying eyes on you. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

You explained how Private what's-his-name bled out in the break room after carelessly reopening his stitches and you had to stop the hemorrhage with your bare hands and a bunch of paper towels while shouting yourself hoarse for help. Yet when Price ordered you to take the rest of the day off, you insisted on going on as usual, forcing their captain to make it clear that it wasn’t a mere suggestion.

You and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

Clinging to what's familiar, you focus on the stack of papers under his arm.

“You have the latest reports? Give it here.”

You hold out your hand expectantly. Instead of giving them to you, he sets them down on the opposite side of your desk, out of your reach.

“Paperwork can wait.”

You blink in astonishment at him.

“No it cannot…?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior and get up to seize the reports, but he snatches them from you. You can feel your composure snap like a twig.

“Johnny, what the hell?!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.

You could remember exactly the first time you called him Johnny, only because it had been such an embarrassment. You couldn’t get used to his alias; sure you had been warned beforehand that some of them were… original, but somehow "Soap" was the one that stood out as the most ridiculous. You briefly entertained the idea of using his first name, except that for you “John” already referred to Captain Price. Only once you tried to call him Mr Mactavish, and as a result Gaz and him guffawed so hard they almost fell off their chairs. Even Ghost let out a cough that was most definitely a concealed laugh. You were running out of options until you heard the lieutenant call him Johnny; you instantly liked it. It just… fitted him. 

From that moment on you used the nickname, but only in your mind. You didn’t have any of the liberties Ghost had and you wouldn’t take them, out of respect, and shyness. Or at least this had been the plan until you fumbled and called him that to his face. The ensuing silence felt deafening as you were realizing what you’ve just done, and you apologized immediately, mortified. 

He just laughed it off; said you could keep calling him that. True, he had appeared more surprised than irritated, but you didn’t want to take the risk of him simply being polite. This too, had been your plan, until he ruined it merily. 

Somehow he must have noticed your efforts to not slip up again because he teased you about it. 

“Not Johnny today? Did ah dae something wrong?”

You went back to “Johnny” quickly - anything to put an end to the mischievous glint in his eye and the rascally smirk on his lips aimed at you. Being the target of his undivided attention sent a pang in your chest and knots in your stomach. Those sensations weren't exactly unpleasant, but it led to an ominous feeling that this was too good to be true, and that at any second this vision would shatter to reveal the cruel reality; so you'd just grant him a timid smile to confirm he did amuse you, but then proceed to look away.

It's the first time you’re pronouncing “Johnny” with anger; real, raw annoyance, as well as animosity, instead of the fond frustration you usually display when he messes around.

To your utter disbelief, he smiles in response to your outburst. 

“There we go, talk tae me. Even if it’s just tae scream at me.”

The remark pacifies you instantly; you lower your arms, defeated.

“I'm not gonna… I don't want to scream at you.”

You sigh and sit back, setting down your elbows on your desk to take your head between your hands, overburdened.

“The hell you want me to tell you? That my mom's on the brink of death out of nowhere? That when she's gone I'll be all alone in this world?”

You swear, aggravated, as tears sting your eyes again, and this time you ignore if you'll be capable of holding back the flood.

Nevertheless you can still hear Soap curse under his breath, Scottish accent growing thicker, before moving to get on your side of the desk, to reach you, dispensing soft-spoken, soothing words along the way. You pivot to face him, your burning eyes and the sensation of dried tears on your face making you painfully aware that you must look as pathetic as you feel.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands reach for your face, slowly enough to give you time to back away if you wanted to.

“A'm sorry, ah didnae mean tae mak' ye cry, a'm a bloody eejit. …Can I?”

His fingers stopped a breath away from your tear-stained cheeks. 

At that exact moment you can’t quite believe what he's about to do, yet you nod your head in agreement - not trusting your voice to not break - all the same, the gaping void in your chest aching for any kind of contact he'd be willing to provide.

His warm fingers cup your cheeks as the pad of his thumbs gently, almost reverently, wipe the underside of your eyes.

“There we go,” he cajoles, meticulously drying any wet spot on your skin.

“A'm ‘ere whether ye want tae talk or not, aye? A'm not going anywhere.”

You stare at him in silence, thunderstruck by the scene unfolding in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams you would have expected to have this man at your feet. He sets his hands down on your knees, squeezing them softly, and is looking right at you, encouraging smile and tender gaze, reassurance radiating from his expression. The position allows you to greedily take in every little detail: the white line of the scar on his chin, the breathtaking shades of blue in his eyes, the gap in his left eyebrow.

As you lose yourself into the work of art that are his features, he keeps conversing.

“We should take yer mind aff things. We could play board games in tha rec room. Or ye could let aff some steam wi’ tha punching bag in tha training room! Ah could teach ye how tae shoot on tha shooting range-”

You open your eyes wide as his suggestions turn progressively more violent.

“I have a bus to catch, and that's overlooking the fact that I haven't done anything in my last hour of work today…”

“If anyone gives you trouble, just say ah forced you.”

You chuckle at the idea.

“You'd never compel me to do anything.”

You can’t repress a loving smile. Johnny just feels that safe to you.

He smirks mischievously at that.

“Na, but they'll believe ah dragged ye intae mah evil schemes.”

He punctuates his statement by a roguish wink that wrests a laughter from you.

“You should take my bed,” he declares suddenly, serious again.

As the silence between you two stretches and your smile is replaced by a mix of shock, confusion, and worry, he realizes how this may sound. Flustered, he starts rambling to defuse the situation.

“Wait, no- steamin’ jesus - Ah didnae mean it like that! I’d take the couch in the rec room, ‘f course. Ye shouldn't go through tonight alone.” 

“Oh my god, Johnny, I could never take your bed from you. You must already sleep on the floor so often for missions…” 

“Exactly, hen. This is nothing for me. The couch is a hotel compared to that.”

You open your mouth to argue more, but then he makes an expression that can only be described as sad puppy eyes, even going as far as slightly tilting his head to the side to perfect the impression. You gulp in response, stricken straight through the heart, and knowing pertinently that you could already hardly refuse him anything, so if he begins to gaze at you like that… 

“Pretty please?” 

Oh no. Not that line.

He's now excessively batting his eyelashes at you, which, while not exactly alluring, is both comical and endearing. Hell, who are you even kidding? You’re so smitten with this blue-eyed creature, is there any act from him you wouldn’t find endearing?

“Are you… pouting?” 

“Depends. Is it working?”

You sigh, aware it's a losing battle, and look away, a futile attempt to hide the ridiculously potent effect he has on you, or to at least shield yourself from his influence, if only momentarily.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Maybe ah just wantae hear ye say aye tae me.”

Your cheeks catch fire at the suggestiveness of the words. As if the regular rasp of his voice, that felt like an exquisite caress along your spine, wasn’t already making it incredibly difficult to keep your face at a reasonnable temperature.

“You're gonna get me fired, Johnny.”

“Over my dead body,” he retorted with surprising determination, solemnly pressing a hand over his heart.

You scoff indulgently. Coming from anyone else, the hastily taken oath would be preposterous, but Soap has always proved himself trustworthy.

“Let's go. Your knees must be sore,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.

“Wanna make a joke aboot mah stamina when kneeling but ah will keep it fur next time,” he slips as he stands up, way too smugly for your own good, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything. As if you needed any more incitement into picturing him on his knees in a different context. 

You get up quickly after, but he does not get out of your way. You rise a quizzical eyebrow, his close proximity triggering alarm bells inside your head. If he remains near enough for you to feel his body heat, you’re going to get dizzy.

He simply grins.

“Want a hug?”

You blink at the unexpected question. Yes, implores your touchstarved mind. YES, cries out your sensitive, enamored heart. 

No way, rebuffs your cautious brain. It will only hurt more knowing what you  can’t have.

He opens his muscled arms, smile genuine, almost blinding, like a tacit invitation, and all your reluctance seems to evaporate with that simple gesture. Before you can linger any more on the harmful consequences this lack of restraint will eventually cause, you throw yourself into his embrace. It feels like falling and flying all at once.

Your hands close on the back of his shirt, near his shoulder blades, and, pressing your face into his shoulder to make the world disappear for a moment, you cling to him like he could rescue you from the sinking ship that was your sick mind. One of his arms close around your waist while his free hand rubs your back, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but bringing you much-appreciated comfort nonetheless.

“You're too nice to me. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness.”

He remains silent a drawn-out second, and you're terrified you just screwed everything up.

“Yer givin me too much credit, lass “ he finally says. “Ah don't go ‘round base comforting every person I find.”

His tone isn’t angry, per se, but it lacks its previous joviality.

Soap tilts his head back, biting his lips, thanking the universe that with your face laying against his chest, you can’t perceive his embarrassment.

He can’t tell you. Not yet. Not now.

He can’t tell you that he used to consider writing reports as the worst part of the job until you came along; until you awarded him a heartfelt, radiant smile when he gave you his; that he noticed how little you smiled outside of artificial ones you fabricate for work purposes; that when he manages to make you smile or laugh genuinely, it feels like a prize, that only he is privy to.

Months ago, he took the resolve to make you smile more; for a while now he started doing his reports more seriously, or even did the ones of Gaz and Ghost, just to have an excuse to see you, to behold the way your face lightens up when he brings you necessary paperwork before you even demand it.

And he certainly can’t tell you about that one time where he handed over his reports in advance, but you weren't there, so he left, heart heavy with disappointment, dragging his feet, until he heard your voice coming from the room he just left.

“What are those?” you questionned your coworker.

“Soap just dropped them.”

“But… I didn't even ask him to yet?”

Perplexity combines with glee in your voice.

“He's a good boy, isn’t he?” prompted your colleague.

You let out a fond, wistful sigh, before responding, half-joking.

“I know! Such a good boy for me.”

Getting to hear you beaming over his benevolent action was already a treat, but witnessing that compromising exchange? To be called a “good boy” by you short-circuited him. He swore - “Steamin jesus” -, ears burning, face on fire, covering it with one hand. He needed to leave badly. Seek refuge in his room, where he could be free to replay that tantalizing line on loop in his mind. “Such a good boy for me.”

Your heart beats a bit faster than usual as you obediently follow Soap through corridors you’ve never been in before. You trust him with all your heart, but that doesn't change the fact that what you’re doing is against the rules; and those rules aren't high school's, but the ones of a military base.

You flinch hard as a familiar voice screams in your direction.

“SERGEANT MACTAVISH!”

Oops, you think. That's Captain Price, your supervisor, and he sounds pissed. You never witnessed him calling Soap by his last name before, but that being said, you never saw him deal with a kidnapped assistant either.

You've been caught red-handed. 

Your mind begins to come up with plans to lessen the punishments that are without doubt about to descend upon you two, but Johnny grabbing your hand brings you back to reality. 

You lift your gaze to him. He doesn't seem worried at all, if anything… is that a spark of delight in his eye?

He only pronounces one word.

“Run.”

So you run, carried away half by adrenaline, and half by the sergeant dragging you. Thankfully Soap is aware that there's no way you can keep up with him and his training, so he comes to a halt a minute later.

Panting hard, you double over, hands clenching your knees for support, heart thumping in your chest, blood throbbing in your ears.

“Why… are we… running…!?” you manage to exhale. “It's only… gonna make… things worse…”

By your side, he's standing fresh as a daisy, barely ruffled by your flight. The sight would be infuriating if his eyes weren't glinting with amusement and he wasn’t offering you a dazzling smile.

“Because it's fun,” he affirms like it's evident.

Little by little, you catch your breath, throwing Johnny a look that's half in earnest, half in jest.

“More fun for you than for me.”

He doesn't get flustered by your moderate reprimand.

“Is it selfish o' me tae wantae spend more time wi' ye? Didnae want us tae git interrupted yet.”

The line feels like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath you just recovered and leaving you agape.

He takes your hand again with the natural of a well earned habit.

“C'm'on, ah have more than one trick up mah sleeve.”

You're unsure which of the views unfurling under your eyes is the most magnificent; the sunset in front of you that's painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, or the striking man by your side whose eyes could rival the most astounding sights.

Nibbling on the dinner Soap smuggled out of the cafeteria with too much ease for it to be his first time, you regularly sneak glances at him as he fills the silence with tales of his adventures - the parts that aren't top secret, at least. You two totally did not break onto the roof moments ago, no sir.

Goosebumps travel along your arms and any exposed skin as the night falls and the sun takes away the warmth with him. You furiously brush the outside of your arms for heat, and you're about to suggest finishing this inside, when a jacket lands on your shoulders.

It is still warm with his owner's bodyheat, deliciously so. You curl up and drag it closer, your face on fire. Realizing that Soap gave you his jacket without you even having to ask or complain about the cold… you’re conflicted between obsessing over this like a giggling schoolgirl, and feeling apologetic.

Once you more or less got your blushing under control, you turn to him, displaying a contrite expression.

“I don't want to take your jacket on top of your bed, Johnny.” you pout.

“A'm a bloody furnace. Wanna check?”

He asks, cheekily, even adding a wink for good measure. As if there was any more artifice needed to make you putty in his hands.

He presents you his bare arm for the taking, all golden skin, bulging muscles and a constellation of white scars.

You indulge him and lay a hand on his bicep, knowing he won't relent otherwise; that is definitly the only reason; it has absolutely nothing to do with your own desires.

Indeed, he's burning. As you envy and bask in the heat provided by his body, forgetting that your touch is lingering too long for someone who is just a coworker, he chooses that moment to flex shamelessly, showing off the impressive circumference of his muscle. You feel obligated to squeeze it in response, a way to finally meet him head-on instead of passively enduring his quips, and it feels like reinforced concrete under your fingers.

You fail to hold back your laughter at his facetious demeanor. 

“You're ridiculous.”

The comment holds no bite, a smile brimming with tenderness stretching your lips.

“I'll be the most ridiculous man on the planet if it makes you laugh.”

He's leaning back, hands propped on the ground behind him, head slightly tilted to gaze at you, and the earnestness on his face could almost make you believe his words.

Almost.

But instead a sharp pang pierces your chest, right between your lungs, at heart's level. The smile you return him in spite of yourself oscillates between content and heartbroken, before opting for the latter. 

Tomorrow you will ask him, maybe even plead; tomorrow you'll ask him to put an end to the flirting. You cannot bear it. 

But just tonight, you'll indulge it. You'll pretend to be normal, a well-adjusted human being, instead of a broken shell; you'll act like an adult for who flirting is a regular event and not the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off, purposely ignoring the newfound lack of understanding on Soap's face and how his mouth opened for a question.

“It's getting late,” you state, not nearly as casually as you'd like. “I'm beat!”

You're running away and you know it; but you never claimed to be brave. Really, it is the best solution for everyone involved, or at least it's how it has always seemed to be your whole life.

He escorts you to his room - of course he does. Even if he already picked up his things earlier to crash on the couch, already showed the place to you.

As you awkwardly face him on the doorstep after saying your goodbyes and your thanks, unable to look away yet incapable of making eye contact, pain flares in your torso thinking of him, somehow intertwined with joy and gratefulness for his existence. Maybe your inner struggle shows on your face because next thing you know, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look up, but as the deranged idea that he's about to kiss you manifests in a remote corner of your mind, your brain swiftly shuts off as his lips make contact with your forehead.

The touch is light yet your entire being seems gathered on that point of contact.

“G'night, bonnie,” he half-whispers, as if to make sure his words exist only for you.

He grants you one last smile, small but so sweet you feel your heart tightens.

“Good night, Johnny,” you manage to articulate before sheltering in his bedroom. The room smells like him.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you rest against it, tilting your head back, letting out a deep sigh. Morbid curiosity pushes you to glance in the adjacent bathroom's mirror, if only to see what you look after this evening. A flustered mess? A sorrowful wreck?

Catching your reflection's eye makes you grimace as you realize an incriminating detail.

You forgot to give Soap his jacket back.

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: things between you and your mom escalate and you make the impulsive decision to move in with your online friend who saves your life and shines like the brightest star... pairing: seonghwa x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut; online friends to roommates+lovers warnings: swearing, mommy issues, suicidal thoughts, insecurities, crying, pet names, eating out, blowjob, protected sex, praise kink, mommy kink, one (1) bad star wars joke, the nbhd references, subspace (kinda?), lowkey possessive hwa, one bed trope (but there is a couch, they just ignore it) author's note: this is incredibly personal and i felt so vulnerable while writing it but i better post it real quick before i chicken out 🙃 the title is inspired by the neighbourhood's daddy issues (remix) even though reader has mommy issues lol word count: 4.3k

You are cooped up in your room, physically shaking. You have no tears left to cry so you are laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all. You were so tired of it. You love your mom, you really do. You would never do anything to harm her. But you are absolutely sick of the way she was treating you. Always belittling your interests, not letting you go out past a certain hour even though you were old enough to do so, yelling at you for the smallest mistakes, suffocating you with her unrealistic expectations, saying you were stupid and would never amount to anything if it hadn't been for her strict parenting style, even though you had practically sacrificed your mental health and social life to get high grades. And whenever you brought up all the ways in which she'd hurt you, she would try to gaslight you and pull shit like: "I never said that." "You're being overdramatic." "You're so ungrateful." All your friends said you deserved better. They tried their best to support you emotionally. But words could only do so much. You need out. If you stayed another moment in this toxic environment, you felt like you would do something terrible to yourself. Something there was no coming back from.

The only person you feel like talking to right now was your online friend Seonghwa. You'd met him on a Star Wars forum eight months ago and you'd been talking to each other pretty much every free minute. He was your light in the darkness and brought you so much happiness you couldn't remember what your life before him had been like. He always knew just what to say and comforted you like nobody else could. And when you didn't feel like talking, he distracted you successfully by organizing streaming sessions for the two of you. He is, for lack of a better word, perfect. There is only one downside. He lives thousands of kilometres away from you.

You: Talk to me. About anything. Please? Starshine98: What happened??? You: I don't wanna talk about it. I don't even wanna think about it. Starshine98: Got it. Your mom, right? You: Is my tragic existence so transparent? Starshine98: Whatever she said, you know it's not your fault. You: I know. But Hwa…it hurts so much I feel like dying. I can't do this anymore. Starshine98: Don't say that. You are so important to me. And to your friends. And to your mom, as well, even if she has a messed up way of showing it. You: Still….I need to get out of here as soon as possible but I can't do that without getting a stable job first. And it's so hard to find one. Starshine98: What if you came to live with me? My apartment has enough space for two… You: You live across the world? I can't even afford a plane ticket. Starshine98: Don't worry about money, I'll send you an E-ticket. You: I can't ask you to do that… Starshine98: You're not asking, I'm offering. You're going through something traumatic and you obviously need a change of scenery. I'm not asking you to stay with me forever, just for as long as you need to take care of your mental health. Just say the word and I'll buy the ticket. You: This is far too generous of you. Starshine98: I'm not as selfless as you think. I'm so worried about your well-being that keeping an eye on you myself would help me sleep better at night. You: Sweet. Starshine98: So? What do you say? You: Fuck it. Let's do this.

A couple of minutes later you receive a digital plane ticket from Seonghwa. The feeling of staring at it is so surreal you feel like you might pass out. You quickly pack only the bare essentials into a bag and scribble a letter to your parents. You know your mom will be furious and your dad will be worried sick but still, you want to leave the apartment while she's still asleep to avoid the confrontation. This is the best decision you could have possibly made in this situation. And for the first time in forever, you are finally doing something impulsive, something crazy without asking for permission. And damn, does it make you feel alive.

As you get off the plane, your eyes scan the airport for Seonghwa. You debate turning on your phone but then you would be faced with missed calls from your parents and right now, you are not ready to face the reality of what you've done. Luckily enough, you quickly spot a large sign with your name on it. It's him! You rush through the crowd and directly into his arms. He drops the sign in disbelief and gives you the tightest hug possible. This is insane. You can't believe you're actually here.

"Hi, sweet girl," Seonghwa says and his voice sound even lovelier than during the video chats you've had with him.

"Hi, starshine," you chuckle nervously.

"How was your flight?" he asks.

"Couldn't wait for it to be over," you admit.

"Yeah? You wanted to see me that bad?" Hwa teases you.

"More like couldn't wait to visit Seoul," you joke. "Go sightseeing."

"Sorry to disappoint but I'm taking you home first."

Home. You liked the sound of that.

"This is my room, this is the living room, this is the kitchen and this is the bathroom. Any questions?" Seonghwa inquires after he's done showing you around his apartment.

"Um, not to sound ungrateful but…where will I…you know, sleep?" you ask.

"My room, obviously. I'll take the couch in the living room," Hwa shrugs.

"What? No, Hwa, I can't…this is your apartment. I would feel so guilty I wouldn't fall asleep at all."

"Do you have another suggestion?"

"Duh! I will sleep on the couch!"

Seonghwa shakes his head, visibly distressed by the idea.

"It's pretty cold in the living room. You'll be more comfortable in my room."

"Well…we could share the bed, then? You do have a king size. If…that's okay with you."

"Are you sure?" Hwa wants to know.

You nod without thinking too much into it.

"You're my best friend and I just moved across the world. Sharing a bed with you does not worry me."

"Alright. Let me know if you need anything, I'll try to get it for you."

"Right now I just need a hug."

Seonghwa abides by your wishes and soon enough, the two of you find yourselves cuddling under the warm blanket. Minutes later you are crying and spilling the beans about your latest fight with your mom. When you tell him the whole story, he feels like throwing up.

"H-how could she say that to her own d-daughter?" Hwa stammers in disbelief.

You notice tears falling down his beautiful cheeks and trace a finger against his skin.

"Honestly? I'm kinda used to it. But it was so bad I couldn't take it anymore."

"You're not supposed to. You're a literal angel, I don't understand her behaviour at all."

You give him a sad smile.

"I'm not a saint, either. I mean, I've kept secrets from her and stuff. I just wish things could get resolved by communicating but she always refuses to hear my side of the story."

"The only reason why you've kept secrets was to protect your sanity. She's being unreasonable for not letting you follow your passions. What kind of a parent would say such harmful things?"

"Right?" you laugh bitterly. "You get me like no one else."

Seonghwa strokes your hair lovingly and kisses your forehead.

"My darling girl. You deserve so much better."

"Sometimes I wish you were my mom," in a moment of intense vulnerability, you murmur without thinking but the words are already out of your mouth and it's too late to take them back.

"W-what?" Hwa appears taken aback.

"S-sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me," you cover your face with your hands.

"Say it again. Please."

You take a peek nervously. His reaction is not one of disgust as you feared but rather…curiosity?

"I wish you were my mom," you repeat, your cheeks flushed with color.

"Do you know what I'd do if I were your mom?" Seonghwa asks.

You shake your head, desperately needing to hear what he's thinking.

"If you were my little girl, I'd do whatever I could do to keep you safe and protect you, make sure no one could hurt you, least of all me. I'd let you follow your passions. If you went out at night, I'd be worried sick, of course, but I'd be happy you're having fun with your friends. I'd tell you I'm proud of you no matter what grades you got. If you kept secrets from me, I wouldn't yell at you, but I'd ask myself what I did wrong. You know why? Because I trust you. And I care about you so deeply that I'd like to win your trust, too."

Your vision is blurry with tears. You feel like Hwa just fixed something he didn't break. Whatever he has to offer, you want all of it.

"I'd like that very much."

"You'd let me take care of you? Call you mine?" Seonghwa needs to know.

"Yes, please."

"My precious girl," he purrs in your ear.

"Hwa…just to be clear, what does that make us?" you ask, confused about the line between friendship and…whatever this is.

"What do you want us to be? Girlfriend and boyfriend? Daughter and…mom? Friends with benefits?"

You chuckle at the variety of labels he suggests.

"I think I'd like to be your girlfriend. If you'll have me," you blink, suddenly feeling insecure. You don't have much to offer. But whatever little you have, you're willing to give to him.

"I will. And I'd be honoured to be your boyfriend."

You bury your head into his chest, overwhelmed with positive feelings and excitement for the future that awaits the two of you.

"Let me take you out on a date tomorrow. But first, you need sleep."

"Okay, mom," you laugh wholeheartedly. "Will you sing me a lullaby?"

"Anything for my best girl," Seonghwa promises.

The following day he takes you to a really lovely date at a local restaurant and treats you so well, like no one else before in your life. You feel so blessed and lucky to have met him that there are not enough words to describe how grateful you are to him. Not just for letting you move in with him without expecting anything in return (though that was an immensely generous gesture on his side). The reason you are grateful the most is that he accepts you with all your flaws and scarred past, he shows you such understanding and care you have only dreamed about. He is truly your shining star guiding your path through the dark and into the light.

In the evening, you finally muster up the courage to turn on your phone. You call your dad and with tears in your eyes, explain the circumstances around your latest fight with your mom and why you decided to move in with Seonghwa. Your dad is worried, of course, but he says he gets why you did it, as he has witnessed some encounters when your mom has said hurtful things to you. Though he has not explicitly stood up for you, in your private conversations, he has shown you support and eagerly awaited the day you were independent from her. He tells you your mom was furious at first but now she is just…sad. You promise you will talk to her when you feel ready but for the time being, you need some space. Your dad respects your decision and you hang up.

"You did well," Seonghwa praises you, enveloping you in a warm hug.

"Thanks," you whisper sadly.

"Shall we go to bed?" he asks.

"Aw, man, I was in such a hurry to pack that I forgot my favourite frog plushie!" you exclaim in annoyance. "I can't sleep without it."

"Last night you had no trouble falling asleep, though?" Seonghwa gently reminds you.

"You're right!" you cry out in amazement.

"I'll get you a million plushies tomorrow but for now you'll have to settle for me."

"You know what? You're more than enough. You're my favourite plushie from now on!" you smile, wrapping your arms around his waist.

You've had the happiest week of your life. Seonghwa shows you around the city, taking you to adorable cafés, sightseeing and eating ramen by the Han river. The two of you take tons of pictures together and spend a lot of quality time. He even introduces you to his friend San and convinces him to let you work at his bookshop, which is honestly a dream job.

One morning, you wake up feeling uncharacteristically hot. Something hard is pressed against your ass. Could that be…You freeze at the realization. You wonder whether to rush out of bed. But then you risk Seonghwa waking up and you don't want him feeling embarrassed over something completely natural. You could pretend you're still asleep? But your breathing is too irregular and your skin is practically on fire. What should you do? Before you can make up your mind, you feel Seonghwa shifting behind you and the space has never felt emptier.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles sleepily.

"What are you sorry for?" you ask even though the answer is quite apparent.

"For…you know, getting hard."

"It's fine, it's a normal human reaction."

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or objectified. I mean…you are hot and I've obviously thought about you before in impure ways but…I like you so much I don't want you to feel pressured or anything. You're incredibly special to me, baby."

You finally turn around to face him.

"You are the most precious person in my life, Seonghwa," you whisper. "And like, if you want me, I'm all yours. No pressure."

"But…wouldn't you want to wait longer?" he asks cautiously.

"Whenever you want, my star," you smile eagerly, hoping he takes the bait.

"Fuck it," Hwa mutters under his breath and crashes his lips into yours.

You kiss him back impatiently and bury your fingers into his soft hair. He pulls you closer to him by the waist, digging his fingers into your lower back.

"If you want to stop at any moment, just let me know, okay?" Seonghwa breaks the kiss to reassure you.

You are so touched by his words that tears are already welled up in your eyes.

"Okay. Same goes for you."

"Trust me, darling, I wouldn't want to stop," Hwa promises and buries his head into your neck, inhaling the scent of you.

He spends a long time pressing kisses everywhere he could think of: your neck, your cheeks, your hair, your nose, your collarbones, your tummy, your ears, your thighs until finally, he reaches your pussy. Guiding your legs apart with a gentle but firm hand, you are afraid of melting right there. He eats you out hungrily, his ridiculously long tongue doing wonders to your senses. Needing something to hold on to, you tug on his hair, hopeful that you are not hurting him. He starts making circular motions, increasing the pleasure. It does not take you long to finish, completely falling apart.

"I think I just died a little," you admit, laughing.

"Well, the French did call it la petite mort," Seonghwa shrugs.

"Ah, yes. The little death," you smile, fondly recalling your French classes. "I wouldn't be a good guest if I didn't return the favour, no?"

You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, looking up at him to see if you're doing a good job.

"You're not a guest. I want you to feel at home," Seonghwa says and you try to take him deeper into your mouth. "You don't have to- Oh!"

You smirk as you swirl your tongue against his cock, doing your best to bring him closer to the edge.

"Such a good girl. My girl, yes?" he murmurs.

You can't verbablly respond so you nod your head frantically. Your hand is wrapped around the part of him you can't physically fit in and you blink the tears away, attempting to focus on breathing through your nose. You move your head and up down, desperately staring into his eyes to make sure he's enjoying every second of it. Soon enough, he reaches his high, sending ropes of cum down your throat. You try to swallow, not waste any drop of it.

Seonghwa strokes your cheek with his hand.

"You did so great for me," he praises you and you feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"T-thank you," you stutter nervously.

"You don't have to thank me," Seonghwa chuckles in confusion and flips you around so that you are lying on your back. He leans down and kisses you again even more sensually than before but with as much tenderness. "You wanna stop?"

"No, please, don't stop," you are not too proud for begging.

"M'kay, lemme just grab protection real quick and I'll be back," he grins.

"Oh, I feel quite protected with you by my side, but I get what you mean," you tease him, excited to take the next step in your relationship.

True to his promise, Hwa returns moments later, flexing a condom in his hand.

"Protection," he repeats in a cute voice, while he puts it on.

"And here I thought you were gonna show me your lightsaber," you joke.

Seonghwa dramatically places a hand on his heart, feigning offense.

"I already did," he plays along and you can't stop yourself from bursting into laughter.

God, he really is the best guy in the universe. Your thoughts are further confirmed when he slowly teases your entrance with just the tip, making sure you are okay.

"You good? Should I go deeper?"

"Hwa, my angel, you can do anything to me and chances are I'd like it," you reassure him confidently.

"Careful what you wish for," Seonghwa smirks and slides in, making you feel so full and complete.

"Ngh," your sweet little cries are enough to give him the needed push to not hold himself back any longer. He fucks into you with so much vigour and passion you are on the verge of disintegrating.

"My gorgeous girl. You like that?"

"Yes, mommy," the words slip out of your mouth before you could think twice about it. His movements come to a sudden halt, causing you to realize what you've just said. Out loud. Ugh, you feel equally mortified and turned on.

"Mommy, huh?" he chuckles lightly.

"S-sorry," you hide your face behind your palms.

"It's okay, I can be your mommy," Seonghwa grabs your wrists and pushes your hands above your head. "I'll take good care of you, yeah? Wish you could see yourself, my most precious girl."

"Hwa, please, I mean…mommy, need you so badly," you stumble through your words weakly.

"I'm right here, my sweet baby, I'll give you what you need," he plays along. "Does mommy's cock feel good inside you?"

"S-so g-good, mommy, thank you, thank you so much," it hasn't even been that long and you already feel fucked out, utterly and irreversibly at his mercy.

"Don't thank me, dearest, I'm just treating you the way you deserve," Seonghwa vows and before you know it, you are clenching around his cock, while he is spilling inside the condom.

You can't think, can't speak, can't do anything. Nothing exists in your mind anymore. Just him. The universe is completely blank save for that one shining star. You fail to register him leaving the room to dispose of the plastic and don't notice when he returns.

"Honey?" he says softly but his voice feels so distant. Kilometres away. You can't bring yourself to form a verbal response. "Are you okay?"

Seonghwa places gentle kisses on your cheeks in an attempt to bring you back to reality.

"Come back to me, darling, please, talk to me, I'm scared," he mumbles in between kisses.

"Hwa?" are your first words. Like a newborn baby looking for the comfort that only a true mother figure could provide.

"You're safe with me," Seonghwa tells you. "No one can hurt you here."

"I don't deserve you," you are suddenly crying, overwhelmed by how cared for and loved he's making you feel.

"Don't say that ever again, you hear me?" he speaks firmly but kindly, nonetheless. "You deserve to be happy. Am I making you happy?"

"So happy, you have no idea how much," you try your best to convince him for your sincerity.

"That's all I need to know," he nods. "Let me draw a bath for you and-"

You summon all the strength you have left and grip his hand as tightly as you physically can't.

"Don't leave me."

"I'm not leaving you," Seonghwa picks you up with ease and carries you all the way to the bathroom.

Once inside the warm bath, you are more capable to form full sentences and communicate what just happened with a clearer head.

"I'm sorry for springing up the whole mommy thing without discussing it in advance," you tell him.

"I don't mind, honestly. In fact, I think I'm perfect for the role."

You smile fondly and nudge his shoulder.

"Still. From now on, I'll try my best to talk about introducing anything new beforehand. It's only fair."

"Whatever makes you feel comfortable," he kisses your forehead as he rubs shampoo into your scalp. "But just so you know, I could never be mad at you."

"What if I want you to get mad every once in a while? You know…spank me for being a bad girl?" you suggest teasingly.

"Then, I'd be happy to oblige," Seonghwa replies enthusiastically and starts tickling you in a playful manner.

It is true that time heals all wounds and distance makes the heart grow fonder. A while later, you feel ready to talk to your mom again (somewhat influenced by your dad's pleading and Seonghwa's reassurance).

"Hi, mom," you greet her calmly over the phone.

"Hi, sweetie. I've missed you," she admits.

"Me too," and it's true. Even though she hurt you, you still love her.

"Have you been eating well?"

"Yeah, don't worry about that."

"Listen…I'm sorry for saying hurtful things and being so hard on you. I only do that because I think you're so smart and have the potential to do great things."

"Well you have a funny way of showing it," you chuckle dryly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…you never praise me for anything. I spent so many years trying to get your approval that I didn't stop for a second to think whether I was doing what I truly loved."

"I understand," your mom says. "I know it might be too late but I'll try to do better. If you'll let me."

"It's not too late. But I'm not coming back to live with you. I've got a boyfriend and a job here. And I'm…actually happy."

"I'm glad to hear that, sweetheart. You will visit eventually, right?"

"I will in the summer. I want us to work on our relationship," you explain patiently.

"Until then…we can Skype or something?" your mom suggests.

"Yeah, mom, we can do that," you laugh. "If you figure how to turn the computer on!"

"Hey!" your mom argues but her tone is amused "I'm not that old!"

"I know, I know," you keep laughing.

"I love you," she says seriously. And this time, you are willing to believe her.

"Love you too, mom," you answer truthfully and hang up the phone.

You look at Seonghwa who was quietly cutting vegetables. His mere presence in the room was giving you strength and moral support.

"I did it," you announce the obvious. "I talked to my mom."

"You did so well. I'm really proud of you, angel," he wraps you into the world's most comforting hug.

"Things won't get magically fixed but…it's a start."

"You did the right thing."

"I couldn't have done it without you, Hwa," you admit truthfully. "You light up my whole dark existence, my precious star."

"Oh, baby," Seonghwa holds your hands. "Stars can't shine without darkness."

Bonus:

You are so happy to have cooked spaghetti carbonara for your boyfriend, your darling, your starshine, your marvellous Hwa. You really hope he likes it because you've worked so hard on it and it's his birthday so you wanted to do something special for him. He has given you so much care and affection so this is the least you could do to express how grateful you are.

"Happy birthday, my love," you kiss him gently, presenting the meal in front of him. "I have other gifts, as well, but food first before it gets cold!"

"Aw, baby, you didn't have to do all that," Seonghwa smiles, touched by your efforts.

"Come on, try it!" you are practically bouncing with excitement to see his reaction.

"It's really delicious, my angel! You did a wonderful job!" he praises you, sincerity clear in his voice.

You can't take it and you burst into tears.

"Why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?" Seonghwa puts the fork down, immediately worried about your well-being.

"No, it's just…the first time anyone's praised my cooking. It feels incredibly special coming from you, considering you are so brilliant in the kitchen."

"The kitchen is not the only place where I'm incredible," he winks, looking at the bedroom.

"Eat, eat! We'll unwrap the gifts later in that other place," you wipe your tears and encourage him to enjoy his meal.

"Oh, sunshine, you are the only gift I could ask for," Seonghwa promises and goes back to the carbonara. And perhaps, this is what having a home feels like.

The End

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi! I've been looking for a fic I read awhile ago where Sherlock and John have to fake being together because there's a serial killer who has been killing couples. From what I remember, in each of the murders one of the victims was forced to watch the other die first and I think they each had a secret along the lines of infidelity - I don't remember if all of the "secrets" were cheating or if it was a variety where in one case it was cheating and another it was gambling. I also can't remember if any of the victims were straight or if they were all men. I do think part of the victim profile was that they were high profile in some way. Mostly I remember a lot of mutual pining and a satisfying conclusion and happy ending.

Thanks!

Also, I love your rec lists!

Hey Lovely!!!

OHH I KNOW I've read this one but I have a LOT of Couple for a Case fics. Like... 8 lists of them LOL:

Married For a Case / Fake Husbands

For a Case Trope

Fake Relationship / For a Case Part 2

For a Case Pt 3

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 4

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 5

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 6

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 7

After perusing my lists, I want to say that the fic you're looking for is one of these, but I'm most definitely wrong because I don't know if any of these have the killer forcing them to watch their partner being murdered:

Rainbow Hearts Retreat by PajamaSecrets (E, 11,638 w., 8 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Undercover, Fluff and Smut, Bed-Sharing, Therapy, Humour/Crack, First Time) – "It's a same-sex couples retreat. For those experiencing troubles in their relationship. Consists of group and couples therapy as well as encouraging socialization between the couples. It's all in their incredibly dull brochure." "Rainbow Hearts Retreat," John read. "Sounds… quite gay."

Till Death Do Us Part by prettysailorsoldier(M, 15,390 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Friends to Lovers, Fake Marriage, Christmas, Fluff) – When Sherlock links a recent spree of murder-suicides to a psychologist who specializes in marriage counseling, there's really only one thing to do: Go undercover as a couple in hopes of drawing the killer out. Faking a relationship seems easy enough, but things take a turn when their real issues start to creep into the sessions, and, all the while, a killer is watching, waiting in the shadows for their chance to strike.

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (E, 58,887 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Couple For a Case, Bed-Sharing, First Times, Confessions, Awkwardness, Sex Trafficking, Massages, Wet T-Shirt Contest, Group Therapy, Past Loss of Child) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly six nine months after series 4. Part 1 of the The Ravine Valley series series

=====

If anyone knows for sure which fic that Dubs is looking for, please let us know! Chances are good that I HAVEN'T read it and I'm just a dummy hallucinating things again 🙃

[paradoxesofgalaxies]

Therapy recap

We started off talking about how we've been doing lately and I opened up about how avoidant we've been and how hard it's been for us to socialize. Which I connected to the time of year as we're in the lead up to the anniversary of fleeing the Manor which triggers a lot of flight impulses

We talked about the Beans struggling more recently including the other night when 22/28 Beans fronted in about half an hour. C asked about what that was like (dizzying and exhausting and headache inducing) and while talking about it I referenced one of husband's parts. Turns out we had never mentioned that husband also has DID. So we talked about that for awhile. How neither of us knew we had DID when we met (tho we initially bonded over coming from v similar fucked up churches) and the process of figuring this all out.

We talked about disorganized attachment for awhile after I told C about Bean and husband's conversation the other night (C was cracking up over Bean sagely telling Sean that it was disorganized attachment XD). This led into talking some of the earliest traumas/circumstances of my birth that made attachment difficult (my mother's father died 4 days after my birth and at 17 days old we flew down to deal with funeral stuff and the next few months were spent bouncy around between my mum and my grandma and her friends. Mum was suicidal and my father was an active alcoholic and on frequent business trips).

At some point we talked about leaving the church. Oh right, it was after talking about how mum told me in my late teens not just about her suicidality but also what her plans had been 🙃 and how our reaction at the time was mostly annoyance that she was trying to bond with us over suicidality. Which led into talking about my disconnection from the concept of family that we had talked about last week and how husband had pointed out that it makes sense how much disdain I have for the concept of family when that concept is so linked to authoritarian xtrian views of family. Which is how we got to talking about leaving the church.

Which led into talking about queerness and how I'd gotten involved in my high schools gsa as an ally long before I figured out my own queerness.

We were talking about how queer people will find each other even when still closeted and I related it back to husband and I finding each before either of us knew we had DID. Which led into talking about how it can difficult to relate to people that haven't been through any significant trauma. Like how people without major trauma tend to be more thrown off by dark humor or how they'll be horrified by things that seem like normal anecdotes to me. So it can be easier to connect to other traumatized people. C and I talked about how the trauma olympics suck but the overcorrection to treating all trauma as equal also sucks. C said that most of their clients are queer so most of us are traumatized to varying degrees but occasionally he gets given a client through his agency that is cishet and non-traumatized and it's wild how different their concerns are.

Then we bonded together a bit over how wild it can be to get a glimpse into cishet culture. Like the obsessions over biological clocks or wedding culture. We ended up going over time laughing about it XD

[ladymazzy]

The past few weeks in UK racism have been wild and exhausting. Such an incredible concentration of denial, misrepresentation, whattabouttery and asinine takes. And whilst I'm not especially invested in the Meghan & Harry drama (I'm not a royalist, hate tabloids and I'm also unsurprised that they have problems with a family which serves as an institutional representation of white supremacy, imperialism and colonialism, as well as being fundamentally dysfunctional in the most basic 'fucked up family' way), the way certain people in this country go after them is something

Just recently, a white British man was arrested and charged for an arson attack which killed a Black muslim woman and her two infant children. This man has apparently made and followed racist and islamophobic content on social media, yet the police are mysteriously reluctant to investigate this as a possible hate crime

On top of the ongoing crises with racism in the police ( both in how they police, and as it directly affects Black & Asian police officers), and the NHS, ethnic minorities working in the Fire Service have also spoken about the racism they are subjected to within the service, following the suicide of a Black firefighter Jaden Francois-Esprit.

When Ngozi Fulani made a twitter post about being subjected to the 'where are you really from' experience at Buckingham Palace, the backlash was swift and relentless. Everything from accusing her of lying, accusing her of some kind of entrapment, of bullying a poor defenceless old lady (because Black women are just so mean and aggressive 🙃) questioning why she changed her name and why she was 'dressed like an extra from Black Panther'...

Fulani didn't even mention Susan Hussey by name, nor did she demand she be 'sacked' or anything. The royal household didn't deny it, Hussey immediately stepped down, and has since (finally!) apologised face-to-face with Fulani. And yet Fulani has still been subjected to endless hate and speculation to the point where Sistah Space had to temporarily suspend services because of safety worries

None of this is racist, they say. Britain is super 'tolerant' they say (as if 'tolerance' isn't an incredibly low bar anyway). Even amongst people with left-wing politics, there are *still* people saying 'the real problem is class', as if racism is just an interpersonal irritation rather than a whole structural phenomenon, designed with purposeful intent, and with an ongoing legacy. As if some of us do not experience racism and classism (and sexism, homophobia, ableism, transphobia, ageism...) *at the same time*

And yet... the weirdo racist tabloid journos lost their minds and cried 'that's racist!' when Meghan mocked *herself* for over-curtseying to the Elizabeth II when they first met. Because, apparently, proper curtsies in the presence of royalty is uniquely white culture, and white people have been horribly oppressed for this over the centuries by terrible, mean Black people who simply do not have any conception of what it means to genuflect (sarcasm - just to be clear)

And then a weirdo racist notorious prick of the ages wrote a whole thing fantasising about a ritual humiliation of Meghan Markle, Game of Thrones style, because she's as bad as Cersei Lannister ( a fictional woman who arranged assassinations like I write shopping lists, and who had an incestuous relationship with her twin brother) and Rose West (a *real* woman who committed crimes so vile I'm not going to list because they actually affected people who are also real). And when the prick was called out, he made some half-arsed apology that was basically 'sorry you didn't get my GoT reference'

Wild times

Merry Christmas!

[theninjazebra]

Stupid thoughts on fanaticism/extremism -

My bias up top is that the i was raised with someone with very poor mental health, so this colours how I see these topics, but ...

Out of dysfunction and insecurity sickness festers. I don't think that's a controversial opinion. Addiction is obvious, how it just smothers a miserable reality with oblivion.

Intense belief/fanaticism/extremism, in my experience, does the same. It just kills and replaces life with The Thing. Cause, religion, whatever. Not just in the sense that someone spends too much time in an online community then tries to kill a local politician, but how much of their own life they have killed to get to that point.

And, I guess, how much of their own life was already dead and damaged to begin with.

There was enormous emphasis on Purpose and Greatness and More To Life Than This in the church-y, weirdo communities I grew up in. Everything was important and had meaning and was a means to an end. There was no living.

No stillness, no appreciation for small things, very little value placed on people or relashionships unless they were for The Cause (or the leader, depending on the group). A lot of contempt for pleasure in every possible form, as frivolous and shallow. They can't talk about anything else for any length of time before It is brought up.

They became junkies for religious/fanatical exstasy and zeal in the same way end stage addiction is all just a means to an end.

This is why, i think, these kind of beliefs/obsessions can become death cults - life and living has become the enemy. There is no now, just The Glorious Cause/future/revolution/God/whatever. Death becomes just anther means to an end. Anyway, guess who was raised by someone who was passively suicidal most of her childhood 🙃.

I've mentioned religion in there a bunch, but this isn't a uniquely religious thing. Anything can be The Thing, The Cause, The Obsession. And no one is immune.

Same way no one is immune to a cult. Life is hard, at some point you will have the shit kicked out of you, and the vultures will circle. Even people who grew up in cults and left and tasted freedom and joy can fall into another cult just because people are people, and we need others (the horror), and what is a cult other than a group whose social and power dynamics have become dysfunctional.

Anyway. This is a lot of words to say it's years later and I'm still knocked flat by how good and valuable the frivolous, sweet, nothing moments of life can be.

[cto10121]

R&J Clown Takes Special Edition (+ Shakespeare Clownery)—My & Juliet Angst Is Killing Me

The Folgers alas stooped to interviewing the ~geniuses behind the jukebox musical & Juliet, and so of course they got to air out both their R&J and their Shakespeare clownery for the whole Internet, the finest meat for my clown-eatery. We feast tonight! Spoilers, of course

R&J Hate Dumb

Romeo is many things, but shallow isn’t one of them. If he or Juliet were, their love affair would have been over when they first found out they were each other’s enemy. There is only one thing shallow about Shakespeare’s play and that is Veronian society itself, deliberately depicted as such.

These knuckleheads then go on to reference Romeo bro-ing with his bros as “proof” of this. Never mind that Mercutio and Benvolio weren’t supposed to know about R&J’s relationship, no one could, so Romeo getting them off his tail and being normal can be in no way performative. Juliet has her Nurse on the know so she doesn’t have to perform either. And again, she has to make sure her parents aren’t on her tail. Even then, though, she makes sure not to lie (technically).

The only point where either Romeo and Juliet can be said to be in any way performative is Romeo’s “love” for Rosaline and Juliet having to come up with a diplomatic response to her mother and nurse on the question of marriage.

“Older pair of lovers” with “Teenage Dream” with nightingale and lark rip-off…it’s giving unintentional parody. It’s giving “no thoughts, head empty.”

Romeo “I killed myself for my true love and honored my rival’s dying request to be lain with her because of course that is perfectly logical to me” Montague, an ego?????? This is arguably worse than Fey!Romeo. What is with modern musicals and their insistence that every single male love interest/character be a huge egotistical dick?

Shakespeare Hate Dumb

Because of course a small town 16th century SAHM who ran a merchant house and stored 800 bushels of malt for ale would be more ~progressive about gender and social issues than a classics-educated theater actor and writer who traveled England and wrote genderbending social comedies and whose sonnets are frequently interpreted as bierotic. Because men smart, woman smarter, always!!! No thoughts, head empty!!!!

Die (Reprise, andante con grande emozione).

Also, Something Rotten called, they’re suing you for copyright infrigement. Is this Shakespeare going to complain about how it’s hard to be the bard too? Seriously, wtf?

Okay, so Tumblr won’t let me add in another screenshot, but I have to talk about the fact that these numbskulls straight up confessed they wanted to do a Max Martin musical (per producer diktat) and came up with the R&J plot afterward because, and I kid you not…most of Martin’s songs are about young teen love. 😑 Yeah, dude, like 95% of all pop music ever since the Beatles.

Also, also, not all songs about young teen love necessarily fit R&J!!! From what I can tell, the songs they chose have little to no relevance to the characters or dynamic at all, hence this new fanfic plot. And judging by the excerpts, I don’t think they even bothered changing the lyrics to fit the new context. They really should have just changed the names à la West Side Story, but they definitely knew the show wouldn’t have sold as well without the tie-in. It just pisses me off, this consistent disrespect for the source material all the while exploiting it for profit.

Bonus: Very ~Apropos Song Lyrics

Because of course these lyrics about a breakup completely fit a girl who just found her love dead beside her, having committed suicide. 🙃 No thoughts, head empty

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2023 #37-35

That AWKWARD moment you plan on ranking this year’s Big Evil last, and then rewatch everyone and realize some of these NQs were so PUTRID you can’t in clear conscience rank  them ahead of anyone else. Enjoy three acts so irredeemable I have to rank them below Noa! Decade rankings: 112, 111 & 110 / 116 [Above: Brividi, Below Noa Kirel] 29 Dec Update: Now ABOVE Noa, and below Nadir

37.  36. GREECE Victor Vernicos - “What they say” 30th place

I enjoy being right. 🙂 Sorry, but 14 points in a TELEVOTE, (12 of which from Cyprus) in a semi that has the utterly unvoteable Romania and San Marino in it? Greece was and IS the worst in this year. Sitting through it was like watching a stream of meconium ooze from a baby’s anus.

Sure, one could argue that "What they say” was redeemable as like... a laughable trainwreck, and yeah, it could have been on paper. I have to draw a line somewhere, and “somewhere” is where a delegation sends a minor to the contest, SEES the footage of him utterly flunking the live and then does nothing, allowing him to humiliate himself in front of millions of people. Shitty broadcasters to the fucking bottom of the ranking!

But even besides that, the song is just a wretched Ed Sheeran pretend ballad, like someone took a cleaver to “Castle on the hill” and hacked out all the mildly enjoyable mellow parts and replaced them with a stop-motion-like cadence, cursive singing and Sad Boy Emoness. Victor sings that he hates his feelings and my feelings are that I hate everything about his song.

Like, I can’t be the only person so UTTERLY SICK of these misguided self-aggrandising songs that actively try to use real-life mental health issues to provide unsoliicited social commentary for their own personal gain? Be it in a competition or to make oneself appear ~morally righteous~. Enough with the devious white-washing of actual mental health issues. 

 At least that is what I’m forced take away from this shitty song because these lyrics don’t make any fucking sense: Victor sings that “Lost Souls” make sure no one loses their way and “Hurt ones” can’t stand seeing others in pain, and also that he’s both (?) and that he’s got too much on his plate, wanting to save the others (?????) and that it’s TOO LATE FOR HIM (??????) Someone heard this and wasn’t instantly alarmed by how dark this is? WTF?! SICC A PSYCH ON HIS ASS, ASAP!

But of course, any potential complexity is instantly undermined by the visuals. 

Youngster Victor wants to battle, and his team is one lvl 7 Caterpie.

Add in a few selfie backdrops, some happy skipping (again: this song has a messed-up and depressing message) and perhaps most offensive of all: GREEK LETTERS SPLICED INTO ENGLISH WORDS: 

And you are left with an entry that makes me feel ALEXEEV levels of shame. Like yeah it’s all mercenary and insincere and vile but doesn’t change the fact that that Greece sent a sixteen year old with a song about SUICIDAL THOUGHTS to Eurovision and made it... that. BE SAFE, YOUNG VICTOR!!! Preferably as far away from a guitar as possible.😬

-----------------------------

36. 35. SAN MARINO Piqued Jacks - “Like an animal” Joint LAST

THEY KNOW THE WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY 

... to zero points...x

Congratulations Piqued Jacks, you are NOT last in this ranking. 🙄 Count your lucky fucking stars. 

Talk about an entry that fully earned their nil points in the televote. Piqued Jacks accompanied their accidentally predatorial song with black and red lights. Black and red lights are of course the axe murderer colours which they used to complement the date rape lyrics and serial killer faces.  🙃

Seriously, for real:  

Hide your sisters and daughters from this creep and his eerie obsession with “snake eyes” and “biting tongues” and “butterflies in his ears”. I would be less bad if “E-King” (you’re a grown man, consider a name change) wasn’t this off-puttingly smug or didn’t have a voice like newborn goat choking on its colostrum. “Like an animal” is three minutes of extreme discomfort. The absolute opposite of a “Slay”.

------------------------------

35. 34. ROMANIA Theodor Andrei - “D.G.T.” Joint LAST.

Sigh, this one just makes me feel sad.  As you know I was a Theodor apologist before and honestly, I still kinda like him as a person?

DGT was a shambles though. Theodor was always due to create some discomfort, given that he has never not looked like a Project Runway second boot called Susan and DGT’s lyrics involve *this specific person* talking graphically about being carressed by his girlfriend’s fingers and wanting to rip her clothes off. So yeah a hard sell, but not impossible!!

However, the live was a bare step above San Marino in terms of second-hand embarrassment. An weird musical bisection, an amateur hour act swallowed by the LEDs and utter SILENCE from the audience which thundered over the off-pitch wailing condemned Romania to nill pointer hell.

The acoustic start, WHY? 

The CSI floordrops, WHY? 

The selfie backdrops, WHY?

 The black paint on the naked torso, WHY? 

the shrill falsetto WHYYYYYY?!

And just like how the San Marinese cringe is present but in a lesser form, so is Greece’s shitty broadcaster behaviour. After forcing Theodor to transmogrify his opening minute into an unplugged acoustic version (a decision that completely ruined the song), TVR just called it a day, and happily sent Theodor to his doom with no real regrets. WTF?!

Basically, these three nil point flops (yeah totally counting Greece as one, deal!) are all tied for last place, but I had to pick an order. Greece are the most awful for exploiting a minor. San Marino deliberately chose someone with a very annoying voice and face, so they’re second last. Theodor meanwhile, is actually kinda talented and was mostly the victim of TVR’s lack of involvement, to which I say: If your participations in Eurovision amount to throwing an eighteen year old to the vultures because you’re too bothered to actually support him through the ordeal, Romania, then don’t bother with ESC and just fucking QUIT!!!

THE RANKING

[angria]

I don't know what I'm feeling honestly. In this weird limbo...really hard to notice much, let alone the positives.

Got new metallic gold nail polish and love it. It's so pretty and I put gold sparkles on top of my nails too and they just look so good.

Two weeks until I have a week and a half break from work (even if it means going to my home-state again...not for that whole time at least)

Idk, mood is better, which logically I know is a good thing (and also pretty sure it's my period that makes me suicidal each month 🙃) but really mixed/confused feelings about the improvement.

Two more classes until I am finished for the semester and then have a month off of school! Except Spring semester is Research I and II, which means statistics 😭

Not sure if this is a positive, but the St. P's young adult Christmas party is later this evening. I wasn't going to go because they are so cliquey, but a couple people asked if I was going, so I figured I should. Plus T did his typical squawk and said I'm absolutely going to be SoCiAl 🙄 Also a reason to dress up a little at least.

Reading this great book called The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd, which is a fictional story about the wife of Jesus. It's really well done.

Two people I haven't spoken to in a long time texted me this morning and that always boggles my mind because people actually think of me beyond in-person interactions? With my emotional permanence of a goldfish...

[nerdby]

So I just wanted to add that I finally what figured out bothered me the most about the Lokius ship.

Its honestly just that Loki has done absolutely nothing romantic with Mobius. Like the majority of the show has just been the two of them having casual conversations -- when Mobius isn't verbally abusing Loki. Which he literally spends almost the entire first season doing. That's why in the second episode Loki ruined Mobius's salad -- Loki was getting back at him for being a condescending asshole.

And it just seems like that.....Loki and Mobius are not allowed to have emotions because they are masculine presenting individuals. Because men are not allowed to emotions and they are sure as fuck not allowed to express those emotions. When they do they either get laughed at or else they get objectified and labeled as queer.

Cause all queer men are emotional and feminine because only women are allowed to have emotions, right?🙃

So whenever Mobius shows Loki the slightest hint of kindness even after all of the abuse he made Loki endure in the first season, it gets taken completely out of context and people just assume that Mobius is queer. And obviously if he's queer then he has to date Loki cause they're both queer men. So obviously they have to date, right? Cause all queer people just know each other and date all the same people, right?

Cause it's not like we're all individuals with our own unique tastes or anything. We're just all attracted to the same people. Obviously.

Do you not see how that's homophobic?

Did you ever watch Glee?

So this video is full of Sue Sylvester's casual microaggressions towards Will Schuster and the members of his Glee club. If you're capable of watching this video and understanding

Why it's wrong for Sue to call Tina and Mike "Asian" and "Other Asian" instead of their names then you have no fucking excuse as to why you'd assume it's okay to look at two male friends who just happen to be having an emotional conversation and go,

"You're both queers -- now kiss!"

No, it doesn't matter that Loki is actually queer. No, it doesn't matter that the Sylki ship makes you uncomfortable.

You're being homophobic and fyi art doesn't exist to make you comfortable. Art exists to make a statement, and no one is holding a gun to your head and making you watch the show. Just like no one is forcing me to write this post but I'm a fucking agoraphobic with a social media addiction, and I fucking hate homophobes.

This behavior contributes to misogyny, transphobia, and internalized homophobia in the queer community which I have as a nonbinary queer person have experience firsthand. Not only that but it also contributes to ableism and mens' poor mental health which is why middle aged men have the highest rates of suicide in the US. And since I know some triggered gender essentialist fascist snowflake is dying to show their ass and come crying about how men deserve to die because of the patriarchy

Take your fucking victim complex and shove it. It does not justify your homophobia.

[papirouge]

If you wanted to know how deranged and evil American evangelicals are about gun worship, I had to listen to one tell me that Türkiye’s and Syrias earthquake was punishment from god because Europe banned guns to protect themselves from Muslims…….. and also add that I would turn into a socialist for choosing going to university in Denmark. That last comment was from my grandmother. She believes once I’m done with school america will ban me from ever entering into the US for being a socialist. Don’t get wrong, the US is huge and full of so many amazing diverse and beautiful people but the evangelicals here are….. something

The same evangelicals saying this trash are the same to be shook whenever people say the USA deserved 9/11 ¯_(ツ)_/¯ Let's say......the 9/11 a punishment against the USA.....for existing - existing over a literal genocide and the blood of millions of slaves🙃

They are so astonishingly stupid though. Like- how gun ownership has anything to do a LITERALLY EARTHQUAKE. At least a mass shooting would make more sense - thankfully those hardly happen here maybe because Europeans on average aren't as much mentally ill as USAmericans I guess. Do they really think God cares about the silly obsession of a handful of Americans with guns so much that he would punish a whole country abroad? Guns are from the devil. They are secret knowledge given by fallen angels to humankind, and it's crazy to me that so-called Christian are hellbent to defending those demonic tools. Guns aren't that much helpful against terrorism anyway because many terrorist attacks involve SUICIDE BOMBING.

And USAmericans need to grasp that guns aren't "banned in Europe". It's just that culturally, guns ownership isn't that much of a thing. I knew a guy in highschool who had firearms and everyone thought he was a bit weird for that. Switzerland has a high rate of gun ownership... Europe isn't a monolith and no, guns are not banned in every European country.

And LMAO the obsession with Conservatives American with socialism is hilarious. They sound like a cult scared that their brethren wander far away in the outside world and fearmongering them about an imaginary threat..... 💀 Everything they complain about Europe "socialism" are the perk of most European countries lol (universal healthcare, social welfare, PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION, etc.) I LOVE MY SOCIALIST SYSTEM THAT ALLOWS MY MOM TO TRAVEL THE WORLD WITH HER RETIREMENT PENSION INSTEAD OF HAVING TO WORK UNTIL SHE'S IN HER 70S - OBESE US CONSERVATIVES CAN SEETHE & CHOKE

I agree that there need to be a distinction between regular Americans and crazy Conservative/evangelicals. Many USAmericans have a very good self awareness about their country and pull out excellent takes to call it out. Tbh I totally understand Liberals hate against religion/Christianism whenever I see the crazy stunts of American Evangelicals. They truly are a disservice to the body of Christ.

[anetteslife]

Turns out my depression, social anxiety, generalised anxiety, ocd, suicidal ideation and (possible) ed are all because of my ptsd, and I just keep getting more issues because my ptsd isn't getting better 🙃

[tekutiger]

I'm still living in Frontlines... what day are we on now? I've lost count 🫠. The event began on the 27th of August... *attempts to count* 😴💤

Last blog update I mentioned wanting to learn some more classes. I did manage to add SCH and DNC to my list of "I can play this rather well". I've keyed a few others but can I play them? Ehhh.... 🙃 yet to try.

I told my friend this 👆🏻, that I "keyed them" and he was like "wait what?". Had to tell him that It means 'I put the skills onto my bar', what else would it mean? lol. Maybe things that I think are 'obvious' are actually not that obvious.

So, I already play BRD, RDM, SMN, WHM, and MNK on the norm.

Wanted to learn a tank like GNB. Tried playing DRK a while back but I feel like I was plunge-happy and that just did not go well at all, lol. Think I've developed a bit of PTSD from it. Not just that, but there's high expectations with it because it's the new 'meta', oh boy 🙄. DRK + DRG combo, or DRK + SMN. Basically anything DRK + some class that has AoE LB = win *sigh*. Why so broken SE 😶

I get it, I get it. To balance FL, it borks CC. Then to tone down one class here, you have to tone down others, and then they all bork, and it just becomes an endless loop. Not as easy as one would think... whelp, rip.

Also don't mark meeeee. I hate thattttt. I don't need a giant bullseye calling attention to me 🎯. If I wanted one I'd give it to myself, adkjaksdj.

But yeah, me trying to 'learn' it, while it being meta, not knowing what the heck I'm doing (i.e. being suicidal)... I just feel like that's not gonna go any better than the first time, LOL. Think I'll have better luck learning GNB atm.

I'm just the pushy- finds an opportunity- and rushes in type 🤷🏻‍♀️. Seems like my team doesn't always follow suit and it gets me in trouble a lot 😅. I need to learn to gauge that better. I'm also the overprotective of my teammates type, and it's gotten me killed numerous times 💀 (going back to try and help/rescue a teammate or something - happens on all classes, not just on tank)

Imagine this, when learning a class: Marking a player trying to learn DRK, they're plunge-happy like myself because I dunno what the heck I'm doing but I'm trying to learn what to do and what NOT to do (as I said before, suicidal). But because I have this stupid marker over my head, people are following me around and watching me die repeatedly as I get my bearings. I'm looking like an idiot, I already have social anxiety. I'm just not going to want to play this ever again due to this horrid experience. Or, I'm going to need time to recover (which is where I'm at now).

You learn more from your failures, you still learn from your successes, but it's a learning curve. I'm only going to learn by doing. Using my skills in an actual match, with people and against other people. I can't just go swing at a training dummy and figure things out. GNB is actually a great example of this as one of their skills is reactive to DPS/Healer/Tank. A training dummy cannot replicate that. With that being said, don't effing mark me! 💢. It should be an opt in, not opt out!

"Oh well, Teku, why don't you just speak up and ask them to unmark you?" Because as much as the FFXIV community prides itself as being open & friendly, when it comes to PvP it can get rather sour & salty 😐 and it's not that simple. People get snarky & sassy and say all sorts of ridiculous things back at you that basically end with the result of you still being marked. Or they straight up ignore you. "You don't pay my sub!" - sound familiar? I usually don't let whatever negative things that happen in a frontline get to me, because that's silly. It's just a game within a game, technically, lol. No need to be bitter. But let a person learn, chill out, it's not the end of the world, geebus.

/endrant

My friend belongs to several Linkshells and Discords for Frontlines and he consistently shows me conversations and games he's in, also premades, and it's just... mindblowing... the things that are said. Some people take this stuff so seriously. It's as if they forget that once upon a time they too were once a sprout. They too, once upon a time, started somewhere and were new, and didn't know which buttons to hit in what order. To learn to prioritize objectives over kills. Not to tunnel vision the battle over the point board because the end of the game can easily sneak up on you. Like... why are people like this? So inconsiderate and just total jerkfaces, I don't get it.

But now they have this elitist attitude and they refuse to play in Daily Roulette or Duty Finder. They'll only queue in groups with premades of meta such as DRK + DRG, etc. Like wow, that's actually sad, I'm sorry. I get it if you want to play with friends, but it seems more like they want a free pass winstreak and to be carried. To each their own I guess 🤷🏻‍♀️ (not saying everyone in these CWLS/LS/Discords are like this or have this mentality, just the people in these convo's I've seen)

And if you think I'm QQ'ing (term for whining & crying) because I'm the one who is bad at playing in Frontlines, I beg to differ. I have screenshots of the end of every Frontline match I've played- out of force of habit from previous FPS games (the end board thing with names and stats). I'm usually (not always) within the top five for 'Damage Dealt' when I'm on DPS or SCH, or top five in 'HP Restored' as Healer. I admit I have some bad games but they're not the majority.

Thing is, I don't nerd rage at my team if we're scattered or split (you'd be surprised at how often I see this happen tbh). Would you like some food with your salt? Nor do I flip tables if we lose a game and my win:lose, 1st:2nd:3rd, ratio takes a hit. It's a Frontlines match, things are gonna happen 🤷🏻‍♀️. I'm just one person, I don't have control over 72 people. Occasionally I'll do callouts, throw a flag into chat, and use markers on enemy targets, but even then, the 24 people on my team are not all going to listen to me the entire duration of the game. Most of them aren't even reading chat or have their maps open.

And then there's cases where people other than the person making callouts, have better calls, and they confuse the entire team.

SE gimme a SERIOUS and TRUE PvP mentor crown/title and I might take it more seriously, I've already got the macros made 😉. I know it's in game currently under PvE but it comes with nothing. Like actually nothing. Probably because SE considers the rewards from Wolf Marks, Wolf Collars, Trophy Crystals, Current Achievements, Series Rewards, and whatever else I missed, to be enough? I don't know. But everyone knows PvP Mentor is basically hollow, fake and for show. It's not a real thing. I guess it's more real than Crafting Mentor but ehh... different topic.

Yes, I'm aware adding a 'real' PvP mentor wont fix the aforementioned problem of people not listening, or not reading chat/looking at the map, lol. I still want to talk about it though.

Make it separate with real achievement rewards and the like. I think a lot more people would take it more seriously tbh. As in... actually try PvP in general, not afk in FL, not alt+F4 out anymore, there's another one I wont say.

Right now 'leading' i.e. 'giving suggestion' in Frontlines because we technically cannot direct gameplay in any way, shape, or form- that's against ToS *cough*... I'm just... 'when the mood strikes' with it. It's not my job so why treat it like it is? I know that's a terrible mentality but, Frontlines has me burnt out guys. First is was PLD hax with grabbing Oovoos, now this? I forget what was before that tbh, lol. I pretty much just turn on Music and focus the game when I queue up 🎧🎶

Also, Damage and Healing aren't everything. Being where you need to be, getting kills and not dying, capturing objectives, being a team player... those are all variables that need to be considered too.

Sorry sorry, I said I was done ranting. akdjsakd. It curved back into that direction 🙃

I used to play a lot of NIN before the major PvP rework and haven't bothered re-trying it since. I should try giving that a go again. A genuine try, not just one game 😅. I recall dreaming I was in FL as NIN using LB repeatedly. (Yes this is how bad it is, this is what its come to! The game has seeped into my dreams!)

I tried SAM once and it felt weird because I main BRD like 90% of the time and SAM has casts. I don't know how else to explain it to people but when you're used to playing a class that can walk while using their skills- free range mobility- and then shift to a class that has to stay absolutely still for nearly all of their skills, it's awkward as heck. The day I tried, I kept inadvertently moving and interrupting my casts and I was like AKSDJKAL!! 😠💢

Needless to say, I didn't try SAM again. Also I don't know why I don't have this issue when I play RDM or WHM or other cast classes, it was only with SAM. Might just be a mentality/awareness issue. As if, melee = shouldn't have casts, or something? I should give it another shot. Also, I'm not suggesting SE should take away SAMs casts or anything, they're too OP as it is~, I have a love-hate relationship with SAMs when it comes to FLs 😅

I've learned the RPR rotation but apparently it sucks terribly in Frontlines, yet it's great in Crystalline Conflict. Issue here is I don't play CC, I play FL so..... 🤷🏻‍♀️

I know I'm leaving several classes out, like SGE, DRG and MCH, etc. There's just so many.

I only have a bit more FL farming left to do and then I'll be done, thank gods. I have way too many alts- but it's not just that. It's because it's the 10th anniversary and there's so many goodies on the Moogles this time around. There's so much I want to get 😄 That's not a bad thing honestly, this time frame is just way too short.

We're being given one month and one week or something? Maybe just the one month. I'm not sure, don't quote me, lol. All I know is it says Until Patch 6.5 and that is "Early October" 🤷🏻‍♀️

This is probably the craziest waymarking group I have ever had, lol 🤔

Oh yeah, I wanted to add some 'pointers'. Uhhh... just some things I've learned over time and recently.

On SCH; try not to/don't, Bio + Deployment Tactics combo on a DRG cause they'll likely use their LB and poof, there goes your charge. I guess Adlo + Deployment Tactics also but it happens moreso with the enemy in my case.

On WHM; avoid using/use at your own discretion- Seraph Strike on a SAM. It's like jumping into the arms of Death ☠️.

This could probably be said for other classes with a charge-in ability but I've only experienced "fly to my death" with this on WHM 🥲. What's that phrase... "Fool me once, shame on You; Fool me twice, shame on Me".

Definitely not falling for that again... 😐

On BRD; Save your silence for the squishy casters, like Healers, SMNs and BLMs. I would think this one is a given but I don't see many other BRDs do this for some reason... 🤷🏻‍♀️? Your team will pick up the hint and that silenced player is gonna drop like a fly 90% of the time.

👆🏻 Don't do the same thing with the RDM skill Resolution. If you have White Shift on, you can try to aim it at a Healer, SMN, or BLM, but I wouldn't waste holding onto it as it's valuable DPS you're essentially losing by not using it.

I personally do a mix of both as RDM- use both White Shift & Black Shift. Basic rundown is, Black Shift is good for dealing more damage, and White Shift is good for protecting the group.

When in White Shift I aim it at squishy targets and also in crowded areas. Imo it's intuitive, as is all RDM gameplay. I'm a RDM main, what can I say 💖. Example might be I see a lot of DRK + DRG so I use White Shift a lot for the barrier. Another might be I see a lot of SCH + Casters, so I run Black Shift for the extra damage. Etc, etc. Just have to figure out the in-betweens from there.

I'm not trying to write out a guide, if I was this could go on forever lol. These are just the not so obvious things I guess? I can't think of anymore atm but I'll try to add to this if they come to mind. Feel free to add to the comments if you can think of any. I don't bite 😇