Ive officially exited my " oh God! I don't wanna get called out and harassed by the mogai community! I value this community but I hate all the inner policing! I'm so scared to say anything and accidentally upset people, I'm just gonna be quiet and hide" era and entered my " fuck off, get blocked and glocked. Im here to post flags and identities and that's fuckin it. I litterally don't care anymore, nothing you say is based in reality or matters outside of this horrendous site. No one is thinking about any of this other than you and like 500 other people, if that, so I'm not apologizing for shit." era so watch out for the debris.
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British producers be like:
THEM: "We love this! Let us put our heads together and get back to you early next week!"
SIX MONTHS LATER
UNPAID INTERN FOR THAT COMPANY: "Everyone you spoke to has been sacked, we hate you fuck off."
American producers be like:
THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON YOU'VE EVER MET:
Hey kiddo do you wanna meet The Rock? Do you wanna meet Margot Robbie? Do you want to fuck my wife? I can't give you a job but gosh darn it you've got moxxy, let me put you in touch with Doug Bigcheese, the biggest producer in Hollywood!
DOUG BIGCHEESE, EMAILING YOU BACK WITHIN 20 MINUTES:
Hey kiddo, that guy said you're awesome! Lemme ask round town and in the meantime you can live in my house borrow my car and by the way have you met my wife?!
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How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have
Waking up to a clean apartment was not what Dick was expecting at all. It was a nice surprise, for sure, but it begged the question as to how long he was asleep for. His phone said that it was the same day, only two hours later, but that state of the apartment suggested it had been at least a day!
He poked his head into the room he'd given Danny to stay in. The kid had ignored the bed almost completely, it seemed, and curled up in the corner furthest from the door with the blanket and his bag. He closed the door softly as he left the room. He hated that Danny didn't feel safe enough to sleep on the bed, but he understood the need to have his back to a corner.
Dick took one look at the shopping list on the counter before opening his fridge. Immediately, he closed it again. The rancid stench of spoiled milk and other foodstuffs seeped into the open room, making Dick rush to open the windows. He added candles and Febreeze to the shopping list. With his pay, he should have more than enough to get everything written down, as well as some things for Danny.
Would Danny want to go to school? Or would he want to take online courses? What grade would he even be in? There was nothing about any of that in the cover story the kid had made up. Did he just not think about it, or had he deemed it unimportant? Either way, Dick would bring it up with him in a little bit. For now, shopping. The kid had done a hell of a job with cleaning up, so it was only natural that Dick would pull his weight in his own apartment.
Making sure to leave a note, Dick locked the door behind himself as he headed down, mentally adding fridge magnets to the shopping list, too.
***
Stepping back into the apartment was like walking into someone else's home. The place looked no different than when he'd left earlier, but it was only just now settling that he now had someone to take care of. Dick was no longer alone in this apartment. He had someone to look out for, someone who was looking out for him.
And how pathetic was that? A child was having to take care of him. He's an adult! He should be able to take care of himself! But, here he is, hopeless. He hadn't even bothered to get off his ass and go shopping or clean up a little bit until a kid knocked on his door and spelled everything out for him in blue glitter pen.
Dick set down the six bags he was carrying on the counter. He completely emptied out the fridge and freezer, throwing it all away. It all had to go. The smell would linger for a little bit, but it wouldn't ever get that bad again, especially now that the stuff causing it was all gone. He quickly put everything away before picking up his phone.
He hadn't called the Manor in a while. Not since- not since Jason died...
He shook his head, scolding himself for letting irrational fear and anger get in the way of contacting the only family he had left, and called Wayne Manor.
After exactly two and a half rings, the line picked up. "Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth speaking."
"Hey, Alfie," Dick knew he sounded pathetic.
There was..something on the other end that Dick couldn't quite pick up before Alfred spoke, formalities dropped and a smile in his voice. "Master Dick, how good to hear from you. It has been a while."
He leaned against the counter, sagging a bit. "Yeah, it has been. I'm sorry, Alfred, I just-"
"No need to apologize, Master Dick, I completely understand."
Did he? Maybe. "That's- Thank you, Alfred, really, but I didn't really call to apologize."
"Oh?" There was another sound in the background, a little closer to the phone, but not close or loud enough to be clearly picked up. "What seems to be the issue, then?"
"I, um," God, how was he going to explain this? "A kid showed up at my door, um, and offered to help me out? I-I couldn't say no to him, Alfe, but- I don't! I-I don't know how to take care of a kid!" The floodgates seemed to open with that as he sank to the floor, his back against the wall. "I can barely take care of myself, let alone a whole other person! But I can't put him back on the streets, Alfred, I just can't. And the things he's been telling me- He's not had an okay life, Alfred. I don't- I don't know what to do."
It was quiet for a moment before Alfred let out a small breath. "You, too?"
"Huh?"
THe question was ignored. "Take a deep breath for me, Master Dick." He did. "Good. This child, how old is he?"
"I don't know, about fourteen?"
A click of his tongue. "Taking care of a child is going to look different for everyone, especially if they've never had to care for anyone but themselves before. From what I understand, he has come to you for safety. He has nowhere else to go, yes?"
"Well, yeah, other than the streets, but I'm not sending him back out there-!"
"I'm not telling you to. If he came to you, he will leave of his own accord. It is your job to make sure he knows he can stay and that he is safe with you."
"I know that, but-"
"Do you have food in your house?"
"I- What? Yeah, I just got back from shopping."
"Good. Is your house clean?"
"Yeah, he, um, the kid cleaned up the place while I was asleep."
"Alright. Does he have a place to sleep?"
"Yeah, I gave him my spare room. What does this-?"
"Then the only thing left for you to do is to make sure he knows he's allowed to be comfortable there. Make sure he knows that it is a safe space for him and that he can stay as long as he likes. From the sounds of it, he intends to take care of you just as you intend to take care of him. Find a middle ground, set up some house rules, go at a pace that works for the both of you. You two will grow into a routine that fits for you in time. And it will take time. Bonds do not grow overnight, especially ones that are meant to last. It will be hard, but that is what makes it worth it."
Dick was quiet for a minute. Alfred let him gather his thoughts, not hanging up and simply waiting. Finally, "Thanks, Alfred."
"You are most welcome, Master Dick." The old man was smiling again. "Oh, aster Dick?"
"Yeah?"
"When you two are more comfortable, please come by the Manor."
Dick smiled, too. "I will. And I'll try to call more often."
"That's all I ask. Have a good day, Master Dick.
"Thanks, Alfred, you, too."
Part 5 Part 7
Tag List:
@flame-343 @ghestie93 @anarinette @aglmry @peachtreewriter @evix-syne666 @loudlypanickinginvenezolano @lumosfeather18581 @blueliac @talia-scar123 @cyber-geist @violet-foxe @currentfandomkick
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An interesting little fun thing with team 7 is that you assume that Sakura's gonna, like, woobify and simplify Sasuke by putting him on a pedastal,cause her goal is centered around him and shes a 12 y/o fangirl so like of course her understanding of him is skewed cause she doesnt see him as a person, just an object of affection, right? She's can't get Sasuke, can't imprint on and/or traumabond with him like Naruto and Kakashi do. They don't see him with rose tinted glasses, because they've lived through their own Horrors and empathize with Sasuke's experience.
......right?
WRONG lmao!! They have too many ghosts!! Naruto's single-minded codependent ass won't get out of his own way long enough to see Sasuke for who he actually is, only able to empathize with the parts of his trauma Naruto relates to and not really capable of understanding him outside of the context of himself (because Sasuke is. His other half). And Kakashi is far too jaded to be fair to him!! He can't decide if Sasuke is gonna end up as a mini-him or a mini-Obito or maybe a mini-Itachi, but either way he ALSO is too traumatized to see Sasuke AS SASUKE.
meanehile SAKURA'S autistic ass may have dogshit empathy, but you know what she does have? A special interest in sasuke. Nothing better to do then give herself a degree in Uchihaisms. She can write character studies about him. she can read his soul. Whenever she says something about him she is right. Every fucking time! She is RIGHT!!!!
'sasuke would NOT compliment me this directly or explicitly express worry unprompted, especially if it gets in the way of his goals' correct.
'Sasuke shouldn't hide that curse on his neck its not healthy BUT if I tell anyone about it he'll never trust me again, which might be even more dangerous for him then the curse mark. Like he can probably handle the curse mark but no one else can stop him from ripping peoples arms off.' correct.
Speaking of! 'Sasuke would not hurt me even when he seems to be...possessed? whatever the only way to knock him out of it is to present myself as Alive and thus something to be protected rather then something to be avenged, because he gets really stuck in his own head about revenge' CORRECT
'hey so um. like. Sasuke's gonna leave Konoha. I'm not sure anything can stop him at this point and honestly I'm kinda starting to doubt anything should, so the only thing I could possibly do to help him at this point is ALSO defect.' CORRECT!!!!
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the thing i love about bill cipher is that even after i've learned all of this stuff about him, seen him at the most vulnerable he'll ever get, seen him at his most innocent, i still can't give a flying fuck about trying to justify his actions. yes he's traumatized, yes he was twisted into what we know today, and while it gives a semblance of context to why he did what he did, it doesn't matter. he still ruined ford's life. he still drove and baited multiple humans to suicide. he still tormented every human he saw as his ticket out of the consequences of his own actions. he still took delight in his actions. he was willing to commit genocide for fuck's sake!!! (freezing all of the humans into statues). trying to explain away what he did does not get rid of what he did, but it certainly puts it in perspective. you won't be catching me being a bill apologist any time soon <3
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okay but a version of events in which tommy takes ellie to the fireflies, but NEITHER of them come back. and maria joel have to work together to get them back
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this is just kind of a big tangent but like I fucking hate when nerd ass losers see a game with even vague similarities to another game and go "ERMMM. HOW ORIGINALL (SARCASTIC). THIS IS JUST ANOTHER GAME IN THE STUPID TREND OF-" and then they list every genre/label under the sun to try and discredit the game as unoriginal by comparing it to other games. 90% of the time they haven't even played the game they're complaining about. they just see pixel art and get angry ig.
like look at this image. look at this and tell me it's not just alphabet soup. what do half of these words even mean. congrats on discovering what a genre is I guess?????????? good for you?????? do you want a fuckin award or something???? a little handclap??? shall I pour you a little glass of wine for being oh so smart and sophisticated for figuring out that Things Can Have Little Similarities Sometimes?????? just say that 7 years later you're still bitter that undertale got popular and leave oh my god
"quirky dialogue" oh I'm sorry did you want your dialogue boring and soulless yeah let me just remove the personality from the game. here's your Nothing Burger I hope you're happy. "pixel art" oh so i guess like almost every game that came out in the 80s and 90s is actually just part of a so-called "2010s-2020s trend". These people genuinely think earthbound and celeste are "Basically The Same". it's not even an rpg. You had to throw in platformers in your disgusting word smoothie because otherwise you couldn't even find any real similarities besides "has a story and contains pixels". they think the psychological horror game Omori is just Undertale 2. yeah sorry guys Super Fuckin Mario Brothers is part of the quirky rpg metroidvania fjhksdgjhlkfgsdhkfgh-like diarrhea trend. cant play it now or you're cringe and bad. do you people ever get TIIIRRREEDDDDD. DO YOU EVER ENJOY THINGS. ON THEIR OWN MERIT. DO YOU EVEN GIVE THINGS A CHANCE. YOU'RE NOT SPECIAL FOR NOT LIKING THINGS YOU'RE BORING AND ANNOYING AS FUCK. I'm so fucking done
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Seeing Sanji kick Luffy for the mere implication of Usopp leaving the crew is peak boyfriend behavior and if you told me they were actively dating back then I would believe you.
And I am a sucker for secret relationships, okay? It's one of my favorite tropes. But they're not dating in secret because they feel ashamed or embarrassed or whatever. They just want to keep it to themselves for a while as something only theirs, which is good too.
But of course, when Water 7 happens and Sanji is clearly way more affected by Luffy's words implying Usopp could leave than anybody else... If you see it in this concept of these two dating in secret... It just hits harder. Because Sanji can't explicitly say "Don't you dare say that to my boyfriend ever again" but what he can do is kick Luffy for it.
I talk about this a lot, actually, but I don't care. I've been thinking about it more lately. Water 7 happening but nobody knows they're dating. Nobody. Not even Nami, as surprising as it sounds. And when Usopp and Luffy fight... Usopp doesn't have anyone but Sanji doesn't either because he can't tell anyone why Usopp leaving would hurt him more.
I can imagine Sanji making a whole deal out of it and somebody going "We're all worried for him" and Sanji saying "It's not the same" but regretting it immediately because now everybody wonders what the hell he meant by that.
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There’s this guy who comes in every day and tries to get me to make him tea with lemonade in it. He bitches about it but eventually he just gets both and mixes them together himself.
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The eggs are asleep, and finally Philza and Missa can catch a moment to themselves. Unfortunately, catching that moment means admitting to the injuries they have been hiding from their children - fussing over scratches while having arrowheads lodged next to your spine is the duty of a parent on Quesadilla Island, but an exhausting one.
Missa's quick fingers manage to pull said arrowhead from Philza's back, the momentary flash of pain causing him to nearly drop the iodine solution. He doesn't, though, just a little stain on the floorboards, and so he continues applying it to the wound in Missa's leg.
He barely notices the scratch of a needle against his back, but Missa cannot help but whine as the gauze is pressed against his wound.
"I hate it here," Missa manages, thankfully in English as Philza is in no position to twist and see his translator. "Why is everything trying to kill us?"
"The island fucking hates us, is why," Philza grouches, reaching over for a bandage. He's managed to get Missa's leg to stop bleeding, but it should still be covered. "Enjoy the island my ass."
Missa giggles a bit, even as he tapes a dressing in place over the arrow wound. He says something in Spanish which is definitely too fast for Philza to parse; he tries to turn and look, only to be gently pressed back into position.
"It's nothing," Missa assures him. "But the skeletons! Why are they so bad?"
"The skeletons aren't even the worst of it," Philza groans back. "If you ever see glowing eyes and nothing else? Run."
There's a long pause, and Philza hopes that Missa understands the severity of his warning - a Nightmare Stalker is exactly that, and Philza knows Missa is not nearly equipped to handle one. If he struggles as he does, he doesn't want to think about how his partner would suffer in his stead.
"It's okay," Missa pats his shoulder a few times, leaning around his wings to do so. "I'm good at running. It's my special talent!"
"You're good at a lot of things," Philza promises.
Missa doesn't reply; this time when Philza turns, he is allowed to. His entire body aching he sits himself up and twists himself around, taking Missa's face him his hands.
"You are so good," he promises. "So, so good. There's nobody else I would want to raise my eggs with."
There's more on the tip of his tongue; Philza quashes it as Missa closes his eyes, rest of his expression hidden by his mask.
Philza can see Missa struggle with his words for a bit - he's always amazed how someone can make themselves understood in two languages - before eventually receiving, "you are the best egg father."
"We have the best egg child," he retorts.
"We do!" Missa's entire body language perks up. "Chayanne is the best egg child, and he is ours. We are so lucky."
"We really are."
Philza isn't sure when it happens, but eventually he realises that he has leant forward, his forehead resting against Missa's mask. He closes his eyes and savours it, feeling as Missa loosely places his arms across his bare back - Philza needs his for support, one either side of Missa's hips and taking his weight, but otherwise he would do much the same.
The two of them stay in silence for a while, savouring each other's presence. The pain is still there, from protecting their children, and yet... In a simple house of oak and glass, for a moment it is all peace.
"Run away with me."
This is not how Philza had ever meant to bring it up, but the words slip out of their own accord.
Missa startles, eyes wide and spine straight as he blinks himself out of the peaceful haze, "qué?!"
"Run away with me," he shifts so he can see all of Missa's face, taking both of his partner's hands in his own. "Take the children, and run away. Find a way off this island, and to another world - one where the skeletons are the /only/ thing to worry about. I'll build you another house and we'll make it a home. Any colour you like, with a fence and walls and real bedrooms and a kitchen for Chayanne and gardens for Tallulah... You can have your own music room and kick Wilbur out for trying to steal your guitar, and we can sit on the roof in the moonlight and you can sing and I'll dance with the children asleep beneath us and no risk of zombie horsemen on our tail."
"But how-" a small whine catches in Missa's throat. "How do we get away? They said we cannot leave."
"There's always a way to leave," Philza says. "We just have to find it."
There's hands in his wings, and Philza startles.
"Your wings are so big... If they healed, you could fly away," Missa says, something wishful in his tone. "Up and up and far, far away, so far they could never catch you."
"And leave you behind?" he asks.
"You'd come back for Chayanne. And I... I could follow you then?"
"Even if something happens to Chayanne, I'd come back for you," Philza promises. "I won't leave you here, not in this hell."
"You wouldn't leave anyone here, if you could help it."
"Probably," Philza admits. "But I wouldn't come back for them, not if I didn't know I could escape again - I'd come back for you."
"I'll wait for you," Missa seems almost to melt in Philza's touch, whimpering as he curls in on him. Philza isn't even sure what he said wrong, just that his egg partner is clinging to him, whimpering.
"We might not always be together," he tries to reassure. "But I will always come back for you - I'll always find you. There's no point in running away if we don't run away together; if some day I /can/ fly away, I'd only do it to come back with help."
The whimpering turns to sobbing, and Philza adjusts his position to hold Missa properly. The hands in his feathers dig deep - one finger catches on some tape holding one of the litany of dressings in place - but Philza just holds Missa and worries.
Why this reaction? Was it something he said?
He stops talking just in case; Missa clearly wants a hug, so he just holds him, understanding only odd words of the broken fragments of Spanish between the sobs.
Eventually the tears slow; Missa pulls away, still sniffling.
"And... Spreen can come?"
"He can live next door, if he wants," Philza promises; it'll be a little hard to negotiate with Fit, but interpersonal drama is just a part of life. "A whole new town for /everyone/ - all of the islanders, and all of our friends. Maybe if we let his ex in Forever will even stop hitting on me."
That earns a laugh, if a bit of a wet one.
"I want to dance with you," Missa says.
"With no zombie riders," Philza promises. "Maybe tomorrow we could dance a bit at the Favela? But, one day, we'll do it somewhere safe."
"On the roof, under the moon?"
"I'll make a roof specially designed for it."
The tears slow some more, and Missa drops to actually lie on the bed.
"Do you really think we'll escape?" Missa turns to Philza and asks. "We broke the Wall, and the Federation-"
Philza moves to lie beside him - on his front while Missa is on his back - and takes a hand. "We will. I promise."
"But-"
"Someone cleverer than us will work it out," he smiles to Missa. "We've just got to survive while they do."
"And if they don't?"
"Then I'll burn the Federation to the ground."
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Also just because you get annoyed by something someone is doing doesn't mean they are evil you can leave us alone
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Whew look at you go! Had a small problem with aphids a lil while back, but after a whole lot of diligence they were banished. Still have some of the damaged leaves visible but look at all the healthy new growth!
You may be trying to take over my desk, but I couldn’t ask for a better art companion. The moss in the planter is happy with the frequent watering and shade, but the impatiens is trying to devoir the terrarium moss now too
My oxalis is thriving still, too. But it has its own space above me and isn’t trying to reach out and say hello as much.
Okay, this has been your semi annual habitat update. Back to painting.
Also, hello new followers! Thank you for liking my art.
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Got my first meeting with a psychiatrist in over a year since the last one demanded details about trauma when I was visibly sweating and shaking! Let’s hope today goes much better and that I have the prefrontal cortex online enough to leave if necessary instead of tolerating that kind of thing again
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cw suicide mention & imagery
original play idea where people seem to live their normal lives but the audience gets the feeling that something’s wrong, there’s a tension and there are things that obviously go unsaid that hang in the air between the characters uncomfortably long enough until the last member of the audience has filled in the blanks in their own way.
there is a figure off to the side, a very young man in a suit, watching them, unmoving and silent, and as the scenes and progress, as characters leave and appear, as the setting changes, the young man is always there. no one interacts with him, but there are moments when they almost do. when the characters stop what they’re doing when they stand close to him, and appear to listen. but there’s nothing.
the sound of TV news reports, all playing over each other, create an uncanny and uncomfortable buzzing that never, never stops, and there are too many to really make out the words. they get more silent the closer they get to the young man in the suit, quieting down to nothing when they stand by him to listen — but the characters seem unaware of the change. so does the young man, statuesque though he is.
then there’s a little girl, covered in dirt, her hair askew, her cheeks rosy — the image of having spent the day outside, playing in the dirt, a smile on her face, her eyes big, as she skips towards the young man and asks, “can we go now? can we play?”
the young man cards his hands through her hair and says, “you go ahead, i’ll be right there.”
but still he stays there, seated.
everything continues as before, but the characters slowly undergo a complete change in character, in routine, in appearance. the old man who wore suits is not dressed in sweats and old, worn out, dirty shirts. the sweet, kindhearted young adult is now quiet and apathetic. the woman who, in the beginning, was talking her friend’s ear off and could barely stand still is unmoving now, staring out into nothingness.
the buzzing and bustling background noise is slowly, gradually getting louder as the characters become increasingly nonverbal and unmoving. the lights dim down.
then all at once, after a crescendo, the noise stops suddenly, the lights turn off completely, before, with warm, yellow light, a woman we’ve seen before — as she stares into nothingness — appears on the stage, slowly approaching the young man as if unsure of her body but undeniable in her grace.
they smile at each other for a moment.
m, whispering: you’re not supposed to be here, not yet
w, cradling his cheeks: i was always supposed to be here long, long before you
m: i know. i’m sorry, i—
w: i know. i forgive you. i’ve always forgiven you
m, after a while: but not yourself
the woman shakes her head.
w: a mother will never forgive herself for burying her child, and a father will forgive himself even less. (a beat) you have such a handsome face.
m: it’s not your fault
w: so beautiful, those eyes, i’ve missed you so much
m: listen to me, it’s not your fault!
w: and your hair! papa would be so glad to know that—
m: mother. mama. listen to me. it’s not your fault
w, tearful and whispering: you were supposed to be fine. you were always supposed to be fine. it was never supposed to be this bad, we were supposed to help, but—
m: i know. i tried, i really did. both times
in that moment, the little girl comes skipping on stage again, approaching them with her wagging ponytail.
g: what are you doing here, mama? will you play with me now? it’s been so long!
the woman gasps, her tears getting the better of her as she falls to her knees and pulls the girl to her chest, who readily returns the hug
w, sobbing, kissing her cheek: hi, baby. yes, i’ll play with you, of course i will. let’s go.
the young man helps his mother up, allowing her to pull him into a hug, and she whispers: “as much as i love her with all my heart, i’m so proud of the young man you’ve grown into. and now i have you both, just as i always did.”
the young man brushes a kiss to her cheek, then lets her go, watching as his mother disappears with the little girl.
m: i have to stay a while. i’ll follow you soon.
(woman and girl, hand in hand, exeunt)
the lights dim, and the buzzing returns, accompanied by the sound of dragging footsteps the audience cannot see, until everything’s back in total darkness. the noise stays. growing louder in increments, leaving the audience uncomfortable and unsure if this was it.
as they quiet down, we hear a man, sobbing uncontrollably, before eerie silence takes his place, too.
the curtain falls.
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i feel a little bad remembering how in my mother days there was this rly common perception of thinking 'well lucas would be so pessimistic after what happened and he would hate flint cuz he sucks and he would hate everything!!' and i would believe it just cuz i was still relearning a lot of things i didnt know if that was what i was supposed to think but it always felt like people who saw things this way wanted to force others to do too
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girl seriously read up on some emotional intelligence. this self loathing angsty shit is NOT CUTE! the only men you are attracting are ones that will take advantage of you. you should be comfortable alone!! you are the catch!!
im confused bc im not trying to be cute for u....? im venting... and if u dont think that or who i am is cute then that just means we're different ppl. like when i see someone be self loathing and angsty i dont think mean thoughts abt them, idk my brain just isnt wired to be irritated w ppl for what i think is "living incorrectly". also i do read sm, i read abt everything bc the psychiatric system wont help me even when i've contacted them once a month now for 8 months. but no matter how much i read i cant rewire my brain. plussss loneliness affects and damages your psyche.... thats a real thing actually 🥴 anyway... whatever i didnt know what to say to this so i just started rambling.. my bad 🧍🏻♀️
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