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bigmafluff · 3 years ago

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Unreal Love Story “Henry Cavill” chapters 1-3

Sequel To My Story “Tom Hiddleston”

Summery

“ Tom Dear ! She is gone!” His mother says when her son barges thru her front door. Diana Hands a sobbing Charlie to His Stunned father Leading them into the house to a computer sitting @ her kitchen table with a flash drive in it. Just as Tom is about to say something . His Mom hush's them both and starts the video. I start with calming Charlie through the computer. “ Hello Little one . I'm am sorry I have to leave you so. But You are a strong young man . Sometimes even stronger than your father at times. Just know that I love you dear one and will always be your special friend . Now dry those tears and Go see Nanna . So Your dad and I can talk.” I said to Charlie thru the computer. Tom Knew after that our relationship was over maybe had been over for a while.

Chapter 1

Numbness,& NASCAR

I couldn't Stay in London. It hurt too much all I saw was pain. I couldn't go home yet still felt like I failed myself some how so home wouldn't work. So I numbed myself out in Cali. I did what I swore I wouldn't. I went full Party Girl. Between the parties ,clubs, Bars I was wasted most of the time. But I knew that being In Love Like this before then Losing love has it's down side . Tom and I had been it for 3 years. But towards the end I was more His son's nanny than his girlfriend . Most of his friends warned me this was one sided . He never got over Sophia Di Marino ,Charlie's Mom. The split was Mutual. I'm Not mad to be truthful. Annoyed really that I let it go on this long ..

So California I went , to numb the hurt. I don't give a rat's ass what they say about better to have Loved crap ! It still hurt's dammit! So Party Shannon I became. I still wrote my stories without impairment. By day I was the mildly hungover writer coffee in hand . Luca was still Daydreaming so I was still writing. But @ night Let's just say in the great words of Bill & Ted .” Party on Dudes” So I did. Shaking my ass Beer in hand in a club in south beach ! Rockin' out to Pink. I am vaguely aware I am Jamming with a rather large Englishmen Go Figure ! He has a familiar tone I can't place ,frankly all I see is curls ,beard & muscle , Cause I'm too drunk and don't care but he was hot and can grind Like no other. But even though I was no lady ,he was a gentleman And at the end of the night I was in my Hotel room clothes and dignity intact.

Woke the next morning with another hangover that I never use to get when I was younger. They still Suck! UGH! I'm about to start typing when I get a feed from TMZ. “TWH PROPOSES TO SDM!” I switch on my TV and sure enough The rock on her finger is massive and Charlie Looks so Happy . The numbness lifts along with the pain . I can see the sun again so I finally pack my stuff .

But not for England . I head home. I decide I need time with my son . So Arkansas, Hot Springs that is. Although when I get there I find out my son is in Florida . In Daytona Beach. At the Racetrack! My nephew Christian and his wife Kiki took Lucas to a NASCAR race and Somehow Lucas Landed a job as head mechanic for Carlos Contreras's race team. Shocked as I was, I get on a flight to Florida it is a good shocked but WOW. I got a Hotel room and then went to the track . Took me a little convincing to get in . Security walked me to the Pit where I found my baby boy covered in grease. Under a car . When Lucas jumped up and hugged me they left us alone . test moment's in a parent's life is seeing your child seceded at something he loves. This was Lucas's dream !Like writing is for me. It was his turn. Lucas Introduced me to Carlos with sparkles in his eyes . Carlos seemed to Like what My Son does. Even tells me that Because of my Boy, Carlos has won 8 races. How more proud can I get I am in tears. While I was here I went to a few races and Lucas and I raided the theme parks. Then one night Lucas had a grown up moment and told me I had to go back to the U.K.. He said I write my best stuff there and I need to make peace with Myself. How did my Autistic Son get so smart. Then he tells me. He is a big Guy now and He didn't need his Mom to hover.

Chapter 2

Something New

So once I'm back in London. I dust off My flat that Luke made sure I got despite me moving in with Tom. Besides writing, a few friend's gave me the intro to the London night life and I found a outlet to unwind . But I didn't drown myself like in Cali. But I still maintained my Party Mama status. Also I am exercising regularly, to compensate for the Night life . But I found that I have way's now that I am Back to make exercising fun. I do the Gym of course. But I also like rollerskating in Hyde or St. James park, when it's sunny. I found a Ice Skating rink that is 7 day's a week. And there is a indoor pool at the Gym I go to. .

But I realized some things while I was home in the states. I can't ever forget where I came from . So I pay it forward to 4 special organizations for charity and I never write them off my taxes . I went back to church I actually found a Nazarene church in the U.K. Honestly Church is what keeps me semi sober in the clubs on Friday and Saturday. No hangovers in Gods house .So I have been busy. By maintaining the order of my life like I did way before when My soul purpose was being a MOM. God, Family Friends career is a new addition but not that high on the list.

I found a way to keep myself going .My heart has even healed to a point and I am actually making good friends with “ The Hiddleston “ I can't even comprehend The fact that Sophia took Tom's name . I didn't think her agent's would let her do that. Any how I Am officially Aunty Shannon to Charlie and he even still talks to Lucas and they talk cars regularly according to Tom. As for right now though I'm actually doing more than writing I am at The Harold Pinter theater in London as a Producer and assistant to Kenneth Branaugh the director of a play Based on one of my fan fiction stories . It's a Vampire Love story with a family twist. No Not Twilight no blood sucking fairies here. But what has me excited is the cast . Tom is in it along a whole bunch of my fave idol's Including Henry Cavill as the male lead. . OK! I fibbed Kenny doesn't need me the whole time so I am writing when I am not teaching Charlie Who is acting for the first time. Tom is One Proud Papa! I will tell you what. And Charlie Looks like he is having a wonderful time despite playing a Girl demon!

also I do have a little Mystery of my own I am trying to solve. Every morning when I get to work. Yes I'm getting paid for this production. I go to my seat and drink my coffee but I find a different colored long stem lily in the seat . I asked Tom. If Charlie was doing it and I even ask Ken. None said It was them. Both even offered to investigate with me . Saying they have a little experience because they played P.I.'s

I was actually flattered I had an admirer. I just hope I won't regret taking the Lily more seriously. Anyway The play is gearing up for opening night I called Lucas's aide Reed to Se if He will be able to be in London for my Play . Which If it does well it will head to the States and go on Broadway. Now tell me if that ain't totally awesome. I.K.R. We as far as my Book's are concerned Luca start's Middle School. So Social interaction and puberty mixes in with his amazing world which should make for a wild ride for our readers. My honorary nephew is even reading them which make's my heart sing Oh! So I don't leave it out my lily was Aquamarine and silk today not real but it had a pink bow and it sparkled . He-he! Who ever this is knows I like things that sparkle. It makes me giddy.

Opening Night!!!!

My Lucas is here . Looking Just Like he did Prom Night When he took my god daughter to the prom. My boy is So handsome. Lucas has been working out so My lucas is Tall and Jacked thanks to His Buddy Phillip Hull. We get to ride in a Limo It will be Lucas's first time in one. Me! I'm In all Red Long red hair with a touch of gray at the temple and proud of it. A Long Jessica rabbit dress that sparkles in the light. Red flat's I ain't that crazy . It's gonna be a long night and I am in my 50's Heels are not in the program. I had red cloves and a red silk Shaw. I felt amazing and all my boy could say is Wow mama Look Pretty! LOL! I am also excited not only for the play but according to the Little note I got with My Red Rose that was sitting in my seat on the last day of practice. I get to meet my admirer tonight too

So Lucas and I are off Lucas is Like a school boy Looking around and he is also a little nervous. I can tell he Keeps Playing with his collar and tie. I made sure Luke had a pair of ear buds and his fave music in a MP3. And sunglasses to help with Lucas's experience. Plus so he doesn't have to deal with the red carpet stuff Reed is here so Lucas will be with me only for a few pictures then Reed will take him inside while I deal with the popularity this sold out play has caused . New York here we come!!!!!!

Lucas went inside as planned. And Luke is by my side in his place as my escort. Luke felt I shouldn't be alone. Because of the split and Tom's marriage. Even though Tom and I are cool talking about and he is even here with Taylor so I'm cool. I was having lot's of fun taking little interview's and pictures and such. Luke always said I was surprisingly easy going in the lime light and it shows tonight. `Sophia , Ken and I had some fun with the photo people and Kissed Each side of Tom's cheeks while he was trying to pic up Kenneth, then we Bent down to Kiss Ken's cheeks when Tom dropped him on his butt ,our booties where purposely in the air. Let's Just say we made Kenny's night! I was all in good fun Tom told me that Charlie was inside with new Hot wheels car's to show Lucas cause they are NASCAR ones.

Finishing up the pictures and fixing to go inside I was about to give up hope on there being an admirer. When I went to take one last. Picture, Henry Cavill came to Join me in the picture and whispered in my ear to Look down, as he grabbed my waist for the picture . I did. And their was a pink Lily and a white rose in his hand tied in a pink bow. Let's Just say that pic had my mouth hanging open and Henry laughing as we went in to the theater. Let the new dance begin.

Lois Lane never Got Superman this way Ha!

Chapter 3

Don't jump! One moment @ a Time.

As far as the play went it was as major success. I couldn't pay attention at all . I was staring at Henry the whole time In awe of all of this.As far as I was concerned it was like I had never tasted this before . I won't lie, it scares the shit out of me . I was a ball of nerves the whole play . It was Thomas all over again. @ least that was what I thought. Until Henry asked if I would sign a book for is Nephews Daughter who has Down syndrome. I was politely surprised . He then introduced himself to my Son. Which Lucas can recognize any actor who has ever played a Superhero or villain . Henry was one of our faves. He asked if we wanted to grab a bite to eat . Lucas always could eat. Even in his 30's endless Belly! Can you see 3 adult's in fancy dress in Mc. Donald's. I Loved it Because Henry took the liberty to date Lucas first. To me that Mc. Donald's was 5 stars. The Limo dropped 2 very full and sleepy men at My son's Hotel. I was sparkling in happiness. We pulled up in front of my flat but Henry wouldn't let me out yet. I think he wants to talk . So naturally I listened.

fore I could even say anything He Quieted me and held my hand . Baby Blues connected. Then he spoke. “ Shannon I know what you went through with Hiddleston. I grilled him after meeting you . Actually I'm kinda surprised he didn't rat me out. Story for another time. Now that you understand my intent. I want time. Time to know you. Also before you get nervous, will it help If I got permission from Lucas to date you and Charlie Hiddleston second's the permission. I'm normally a prideful Man But Shannon something inside Tell's me I am supposed to started something new with You. I want get to know you Date you proper. If anything let's see where it goes. Even if we don't connect more personally . We can at least catch a grind to a tune and groove like buddies”.

My breath hitch because I just realize that dude I was grinding with in California at that club. The English Dude. That was Henry!!!!! He notices my blush and Shakes his head showing me the bracelet. I smack his shoulder Laughing my Blush off. Then I told him I am willing to try and if all else fails Partying in New York won't get boring . Then he kissed my Palm and let me out . I gave him my # and told him to give me a call when he was ready to try. The Limo waited till I was Inside. But instead of Leaving The door opened and Henry came running up to me . Grabbed my waist, pulled me close and Kissed me. We exploded!!!!

Hand in Hand at JFK airport Henry and I go straight to the Hotel . No Not for that . We came early so Henry could as he says Court me proper. LOL! There is nothing I'd rather do the then run all over NYC for the first time with Henry. I have jumped in fully no comparing to any other love . This is true Eros and I'm going with the flow. That was our agreement for each other the next morning after the Play. To Just Love & enjoy till the fluffy lady quits singing.

I exploded because of SuperMan!

{None of this story is real the pic are from Googles images !!!!!!!!!!!!}

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cubeswhump · 4 years ago

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Defy Fate; Reanimate, part 1: The Pieces of Osiris

Gonna make it clear that I got “Defy fate / Reanimate” from this song. This story takes inspiration from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein but I kinda took the barest base of it and ran wild.

For much of my childhood, I was dead set on being a forensic pathologist. Then I got autistic burnout which turned into a nervous breakdown and had to reevaluate my life plan. I still have a huuuuuge love for forensics/pathology and I finally put it to use. A bit too much use. You’re gonna learn about rates of decay today.

Note: Part 2 is already written and will be posted tomorrow or the day after.

Tagging @more-miserables and @brutal-nemesis

Warning for gore, self-harm (not done from depression or misery), terminal illness, whump of a minor (via flashback), death (death is a whole ass focal point of this story so be warned), drugging, creepy whumper (like super creepy), consensual mildly-NSFW stuff that doesn't go anywhere, semi-professional surgery, dismemberment, disembowelment, general grossness.

Dearil was a constant; Lorelai barely remembered life without him. He showed up in first grade an awkward little boy who didn't speak a word of English and she was the happy helper with dozens of gold stars who took him under her wing. But they grew up and he learned English and gained confidence while Lorelai retreated into her shell.

Dearil seemed the type of kid who would be bullied relentlessly: openly gay, overweight, embraced his feminine side with pinks and purples and earrings, grew his hair longer than any boy at school, could tell you every plot point of Bleach and Naruto but couldn't follow a conversation, did these things with his hands that were later identified as stimming. However, he never held his tongue and had this air of confidence that even the mean kids respected. It was quiet, studious Lorelai they picked on, but no one dared bother her when big Dearil stood next to her. When chemotherapy made him lose his hair when they were sixteen, some classmates even shaved their heads to show support.

They stayed close even Dearil repeated eleventh grade because health complications made him miss so much school. They stayed nest best friends even when Lorelai graduated six months early, when he took a gap year, when Lorelai got into medical school. Even when the dreaded Boyfriebds stuck their feet in.

The two shared an apartment while Dearil worked on a degree in business and Lorelai was kept busy as an assistant in a morgue and full-time student. They had big dreams, but Dearil's were much more feasible: he planned to open a bakery that exclusively hired neurodivergent teens and young adults. Lorelai's plans?

"They only don't want to mix magic and medicine becahse the pharmaceutical companies will lose money!" she growled, glaring daggers at the emailed rejection of her thesis.

"People fear what they don't understand. I mean, science can't explain it and it's pretty fucking crazy," Dearil replied, shrugging. "If I had to explain it, I'd say it's kinda like equivalent exchange in Fullmetal Alchemist, right? I don't really get how it works. But you're smart. You're strong-willed. You'll do great."

She didn't get his anime comparisons, but she could get lost in the sould of his voice. If she could bottle it she would drink nothing else for the rest of her life.

Then another Boyfriend came along and she heard that voice less and less. She hated everything about Frankie: the way he zipped around on that noisy motorcycle (and how dare he wear the only helmet while Dearil rode around unprotected), his spikey hair, his smug smile, his grating laughter, his leathee jackets, his lips on Dearil's.

She refrained from hexing him. She wasn't a bad person who would use witchcraft to cause harm. Her acts were subtle and harmless: placing red rose petals in Dearil's pockets and shoes and placing petunia petals in Frankie's.

"I don't know what the flowers mean but I'm guessing it's some passive-aggressive bullshit," Dearil huffed. "Cut it out."

He got a bit angrier when she tried to cut off a chunk of Frankie's stiff hair. It was just for a bad luck charm, nothing lethal, but she pled the fifth on that one.

"You're like a sister to me," Dearil reminded her that day after Frankieeft. He meant well, but she wanted to scream and cry and break things. But she forced herself to smile.

There was a thought that haunted her every day. She would be the maid of honor, perhaps wearing teal if Dearil's current hair color was anything to go by. She would have to give a speech and congratulate the grooms. Watch them kiss. It should be her under that altar! She should be wearing a white gown and veil!

She resigned to life as a lonely spinster. She'd be married to her job.

That was the worst thing she imagined happening, until life hit her like a truck... and the delivery was a truck.

Dearil was so late getting home again. Any minute now he'd call and tell her he was spending the night with Frankie. And sure enough her smartphone rang, but it wasn't Dearil.

"What's up, Kensia?" she asked, but the only response from Dearil's younger sister was sobbing. Instant dread. "Kensia? Come on, use words. I'm not a mind reader."

So Kensia spoke, and Lorelai would have preferred she didn't. She didn't remember getting off the phone. She didn't remember much of that night at all, but she couldn't forget all of it.

***

She almost didn't go to the funeral. She didn't want to wake up ever again. She thought about joining Dearil. But she got out of his bed, staggered to her bedroom, and searched her closet for appropriate attire.

The black dress was old and wouldn't cover the runes carved into her arms, but what did it matter if someone got uncomfortable? Fuck everyone else. The dress was tight in her waist and she bitterly realized that it would fit soon enough now that Dearil wouldn't be baking sugary treats all the time.

His mother came to greet her dressed in all white. The whole Jean-Pierre family wore white, even Dearil's dad whose wardrobe consisted of grey suits and plain ties. Catheline wrapped her up in a bone-crushing hug and Lorelai wanted to push her away and shout, "I'm not here for you!"

A cheap pine coffin for someone so great. What a disgrace. It was closed too. A closed-casket funeral was the most logical solution but it hirt Lorelai to know she wouldn't see his beautiful face ever again. That beautiful face was pulverized. Even Frankie, who was wearing a helmet, was killed so Dearil didn't stand a chance. He was killed on impact, painlessly.

Painless for who? It hurt so, so much.

She could scarcely hear the spoken eulogies over her own sobs, and declined to give one herself. Dearil's own mother wound up consoling Lorelai throughout the ceremony, rocking the young woman in her arms like a child. No words were shared until the end when Catheline walked Lorelai to her car.

"Traditionally in Haiti, we gather to mourn for nine days. It's a social gathering where we eat and drink and talk, nothing stiff and formal," Catheline explained through her own tears, smoothing Lorelai's messy ponytail. "You're part of the family, cheri. We want you to join us."

Like she wanted to waste her time at some social event. The only thing she wanted to do was lie in Dearil's bed and smell him on his pillow. But she couldn't shut Catheline down like that.

"Why nine days?" she asked.

"That's how long the soul takes to leave the body - that's what we Vodouists believe. We gather for nine days to assire the soul ascends safely and doesn't get stolen away by any petro loas. Evil spirits."

A pause. Lorelai got an odd look on her face. "Was he embalmed? Were his organs donated?"

Disgust flashed across Catheline's face for just a second. She took a deep breath. "We believe that harm dealt to the body after death harms the soul, so we don't usually embalm or donate organs. Dearil did want to donate his organs, you know what he's like, so we respected his wishes. He wasn't embalmed. Why do you ask?"

The question had a bit of an edge. She sniffed and dabbed her eyes.

Lorelai wasn't crying anymore, though her eyes were rimmed with red. "Catheline... If his soul is still on earth, could his body be saved?"

Catheline frowned. "What are you..." Her face contorted with horror. "No! I have nothing against you doing witchcraft, but this is where I put my foot down. Interfering with the soul? My son's soul? Imagine the pain he'd be in! How could you even think of that?"

Lorelai looked away from her. "I'm sorry... I'm just really... I'm not thinking. I wasn't thinking. I wouldn't do anything to harm her."

Cathine took her hands. "Look me in the eye. Promise me, Lorelai. Promise me you won't tamper with anything you shouldn't."

Lorelai sighed, looking into those honest brown eyes, eyes so much like Dearil's. "I promise."

***

She promised, but above-ground burial only existed to tempt grave robbers. It was a blessing; the universe wanted Lorelai to do this.

What wasn't a blessing was the man standing outside the mausoleum. Fucking Catheline must have held her suspicions and reported on them. The guard's head snapped her way, and she bolted.

"Hey!" he shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"

Every step toward her car, every step toward her front door was a knife twisting. She was leaving Dearil behind.

She went to the gathering to keep up appearances. She drank much-needed wine and ate Haitian foods even when she felt like the smallest bite of food would make her vomit. She and Catheline said nothing of their conversation, and the older woman hugged her a bit much for her liking.

The witches in the forums turned on her. They called necromancy evil and her plan foolish.

People like you are why people think so badly of us! wrote WitchBitch666. No one had any tips but MagickalShells wanted updates on her progress.

No one had done anything like this. At least, not in written history. She was completely on her own. But it wasn't the first time she did something crazy woth magic, though the forums were more help the last time.

The migraines. The vomiting. The paranoia. The way he couldn't catch his breath. Finally, the seizures. After the appointment with the neurologist, Dearil had called Lorelai crying.

Four tumors across his brain, all cancerous. Two inoperable, the structures too important and delicate.

Dearil needed her like he did when they were younger, but it wasn't enjoyable this time. The doctors estimated that he had ten months to live. They only offered to attempt to shrink the tumors with chemotherapy and "focus on his quality of life."

He slipped into a coma toward the end, and Lorelai grew desperate.

Lorelai knew little about witches. Heathens, Mama and Pedro called them. They voted for increased limitations on magic at any election - local, statewide, and nationwide. They wanted it to be outlawed entirely.

But she knew witches did things that couldn't be explained with science. Maybe science wasn't everything. So she turned to the forums.

Once a week she would rip off a fingernail with her pliers. She would sneak into Dearil's hospital room and put the fingernail under his mattress, then slice into his hand with a razor blade and draw a rune behind his ear with his blood.

Hospital staff increased security when they found the harm done to his body hand and the blood on his head, but he miraculously woke up after two weeks. He still had cancer, though, and her work wasn't done.

"You've been doing what?" he had cried when he was coherent and cognizant enough to understand, staring at the deep, angry red slash across his palm. She lunged for his hand and he stepped back. "And let me see your fucking nails!"

"Come on, you're dying," she pointed out. "What do you have to lose?"

He cringed, but they both knew she was right. So he would let her take his blood and sleep with finger and toenails under his pillow, though he shuddered to think about. She lost weight and grew pale as he regained what his mother called "bebe fat" and life returned to his eyes. The tumors shrank with each X-ray.

"You're doung this, aren't you?" asked Catheline, very seriously, and Lorelai had paled. But when the teenager bowed her head, Catheline pulled her into a hug. "Thank you, thank you, cheri. But don't kill yourself to save him."

Week eighteen. Lorelai's nails were growing back ever so slowly and terribly brittle. With two toenails left, she had to wonder what offering she would give when she ran out.

But with the next X-ray, it was announced that the boy who was supposed to be dead in mere months was in remission. He walked with a limp because of the damage the tumor did to his cerebellum, but physical therapy got that fixed up. He returned to school, behind a year, and Lorelai became fixated on influencing western medicine to adopt witchcraft, if not becoming the first doctor to use magic on her patients in the United States.

The guard was there the next night, but she made sure she wasn't seen. She linked herself to the ground and, urging him to hurry up and take a bathroom break or something. Dearin's brain was the most important thing to be kept, but the brain is one of the first things to go, ces collapsing just minutes after death. Every minute wasted waiting for this stupid guard was cellular death. Losing her Dearin.

An illusion spell. He ran to investigate the vandals kicking at tombstones and each footfall was like feet stomping on Lorelai's face. She was never so happy to feel pain though.

A spell to unlock the door would be a waste of energy. One of the runes on her chest was already seeping, and she needed to save her blood for tomorrow. She picked the lock and slipped inside as the "vandals" led the guard here and there, running him ragged.

Dearil didn't deserve to be in this house of nobodies. Name after useless name among the granite on the wall until she found a Dearil Jean-Pierre. She pried off the granite slab with her crowbar, and then the concrete under it. She dropped the concrete on her foot and puffed out her cheeks to keep in the profanities. The concrete broke in two, and she expected her throbbing toe did too.

She gripped the sides of his coffin and tugged. It took a minute to budge. Dearil wasn't very tall, and neither was Lorelai, but he was wide and heavy. Her face turned red and she grunted with effort. She jumped back as his coffin fell to the ground. It was still jammed shut, and she wished they still nailed coffins shut. She didn't know what this sealant wasade of, but it was rough.

Running out of time. Guard could come back. Hurry up.

The lid came out, and the smell. Oh god, the smell. She gagged, but it was nothing compared to when her flashlight landed on what was left of her friend.. No, that actually made her swallow back bile.

He was missing one arm, only a little mangled stub remaining in his empty sleeve, but that wasn't the problem. His face, God, his face. The left side was caved in, skin and dreadlocks torn away to reveal the gore. He didn't have much of a left eyebrow, his jaw leaned to one side with missing teeth gaping at her, and what was left of his nose was a bloody pulp with the little stud nosering glinting far from where his nostril was supposed to be. And his eyes, his gorgeous eyes... Grey-blue scleras, left eye protruding from the socket with black spots around the iris.

"Oh god, Dearil..." She rubbed her eyes, willing herself to get a grip.

This was the easy part; all she had to do was transport him. But how was she supposed to fit a 5'7", 185 pound man in an, albeit large, suitcase?

It felt so wrong undressing him. She wanted her first time seeing him nude to be consensual, but not one "yes" left his bloated lips. She tried not to look anywhere inappropriate, flushing under her mask.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered as she produced the bone saw from her gym bag. She held the flashlight in her mouth as she sliced into one thigh.

Rigor mortis had passed and he was soft abd squishy, but the femur was still rock solid. It took a bit of force and then she moved to the other leg. The smell increased tenfold, and ut got even worse when she swutched ti a scalpel and sliced off strips of his wobbly, pudgy belly.

His neck was already broken and any damage could be fixed, so she pushed his chin down to his chest, avoiding looking at those glassy eyes. His remaining arm was okay to stay. It was easy to angle and wrap around his head, and she secured the limb with tape before cramming him into the plastic-lined suitcase.

She put the lid on the coffin and lifted it back into its divot. It was much lighter now, only containing clothes, flaps of skin, and two legs, and there was no evidence if tampering at first glance. She pushed the two concrete halves together and into their place on the wall, shoving the granite slab in after. They kept sliding and threatening to fall, so in the end she went around prying off and smashing dozens of slabs. With so much damage, they won't know where to start, and if they find other caskets unaffected, maybe they won't check his...

This plan was falling apart. No it wasn't. It wasn't, it wasn't!

Connecting her senses to the grounds, she found the guard outside. She held a lighter to her hand, feeling the warmth, imagining a small explosion and fire. Runes bled onto her shirt. The guard ran off to check the exosion at the other side of the graveyard, shouting. Feet trampling her face.

It was just an illusion. She wasn't one for destruction magic or vandalism. Well... The mausoleum said otherwise about vandalism, but as she walked away it was out of sight and out of mind.

She still struggled to lift Dearil into the passenger's seat of her car, having to roll the windows down to deal with the odor. She plugged her phone into the auxiliary cord and played his favorite music. She was never a fan during his life, but now she loved the sound.

She didn't go to their apartment. No, that would be far too predictable. She still had a key to Mama and Pedro's beach house, and when she checked earlier that day she found that they hadn't chamged the locks. It was only an hour's drive and she could make that to and from work, school, home without running out of gas money.

The roar of waves crashing on the shore competed with the obnoxious rumbling of a heavy wheeled suitcase on cobblestone. She got inside and turned on the lights. The table was new, very nice with polished wood. She didn't feel at all remorseful putting Dearil's odorous, leaking body on the pristine surface to operate. Preserving his brain was frst and foremost.

Face-down, his eyes didn't stare at her. She sliced around the top of his scalp, separated the skull, and then sliched straight down to his nape. She severed his optic nerves and then focused on removing the brain. The brainstem had to stay intact, so she removed the uppermost vertebrae it was attached to.

In her hands, she held Dearil's mind, the most important thing she had ever touched. Faintly grey and sagging with a chunk taken from the left. She struggled to figure out what larts were damaged the most. She reslized, with complete horror, that there wasn't musch left of Broca's area. Not his voice! I need to hear his voice! She'd have to fix that.

Wernicke's area looked okay though, so hopefully he would be able to read abd write without problem. His parietal lobe as a whole didn't look so good, and he already jad sensory issues... Hopefully it wasn't too bad.

She wished she could do an X-ray and see how the inner structures had decayed, especially his hippocampi. He needed to remember her!

Focus. She needed to focus on the task at hand. Whatever the damage was, nothing would be fixed if she just stpod there staring.

Her medical school had gotten on board with new postmortem brain preservation techniques. Liquid nitrogen, cryonics, blood substitute. The dust was mixed into the fluid in the tank, and now she allowed Dearil's brain to be submerged. She dripped fresh blood onto the rune under the tank and for just a second, the water glowed.

The human body is home to tens of trillions of microorganisms that keep you healthy. Though these populations are necessary for human survival, a single one getting out of control would be devastating. That's where the immune system comes in, suppressing overgrowth and keeping these populations in check.

But dead people have no immune system; bacteria runs rampant.

Lorai soaked a new mask in winter mint rubbing alcohol and pulled it on, and new gloves. Her goggles and apron stayed on, and sue set to work, starting the scalpel at his shoulder and ending at his breastbone. Mirror the stitch. Slice down his mutilated stomach to the start of his pelvis.

Peeling back the skin, it was clear his liver and gallbladder were no more; his insides were stained yellow-green with bile, and the winter mint did little to mask the smell of ammonia and hydrogen sulfate. She had to get rid of his stomach before the hungry microbes could do any more damage, scarcely breathing as she cracked open his ribcage and transferred internal organs to a garbage bag.

She couldn't exactly drag him outside and hose him down, so so brought him to the downstairs bathroom with the detachable shower head. He was so light now.

She rinsed him with the shower head. Water ran yellow-green, and then finally clear, though his insides still were definitely not a healthy red-pink. She wrapped him up in the fluffiest towel and brought him to the kitchen. She'd removed all the shelves in the refrigerator during her first trip to the house so she had no problems sticking Dearil's mostly empty husk inside.

And then she lit a few scented candles and went to bed.

***

The head medical examiner was a lonely older man. His wife was either dead or left him (Lorelai wasn't sure which, and she didn't care), and his only company was the corpses he sliced open. Lorelai saw the way he looked at her, eyes hungrily taking her image in. In the days after Dearil's accident, she started making moves on him even though it ft so, so wrong.

She smiled at him throughout today's shift. She washed her hair for the first time in days and let it hang lose around her face during her break. She even put on makeup, though it took a few video tutorials to get it loose.

Toward the end of her shift, she sidled up to him, whispering, "Hey, Viktor..."

He glanced at her. "Hm?"

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

He went red up to the tips of his ears.

"Come home with me," she said in a whine, fingers stroking his arm. "I'm staying at my family's summer home. I'm the only one there, all alone and sooo lonely."

"Fuck yes," he breathed.

"You ever have sex on the beach?"

"I'm getting hard just thinking about it."

She forced herself to smile instead of grimacing. "You ever been with a witch?"

"You?" His eyes widened, but then he smiled. "I bet you're magical in bed."

Ew ew ew.

"You've got that right." She placed a hand on the unmarked chest of the man on the table. His skin was the wrong shade of brown, but his hair was perfect. She already had a nose on ice that she'd taken during Viktor's break. It was a bit too dark as well, but it was just the right shape for Dearil. "How about we take this guy with us?"

Viktor recoiled. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, you said you want a magical night. Do something crazy!" she exclaimed. "You don't have to fuck him or anythibg, and we'll have him back by morning. It's not like he'll mind. It's a witch thing."

Viktor put a hand to his salt and pepper hair, eyebrows knitting together. A few emotions clouded his features before he came to a decision. "If you say so. But if we get caught this was your idea."

"Noted. But I promise you'll enjoy yourself."

He helped her wheel out the John Doe on one of the cheaper stretchers no one would miss, faces obscured by masks and a darkness spell. They stuffed the corpse into the tiny trunk of her car. Viktor pressed his lips to hers suddenly, bushy mustache scratching her. He smelled like literal death and whatever offensive oil he rubbed into his mustache so he wouldn't have to smell as much decay.

He couldn't keep his hands to himself during the whole drive, rubbing her thighs, kissong her neck, trying to unhook her bra and getting excited when he found out she wasn't wearing one. She wanted to slap his hands away, shout that her body belonged to Dearil, but this was a necessary step.

Her mind screamed but her lips purred, "Ohh, that feels so good."

He still hadn't settled down when they were taking the Doe into the house. "Talk dirty in Spanish, chica," he murmured.

"I was born in Florida," she sighed. "I don't speak that much Spanish."

"Don't you know any?"

"A bit. Do you?"

"I can say hola and count to ten," he laughed. "My Spanish classes probably ended before you were even alive. Come on, say something."

"Estas... Estas tan muerto," she said. "Eres solo, uh, um... un peón."

"That's so hot," he moaned, and she bit her cheek to keep from laughing.

Viktor's smile became a frown when they walked into the house. He set the John Doe on the table while Lorelai went and locked the door. He quickly sniffed his shirt when she wasn't looking, but the smell wasn't coming from him. And the bed in the adjacent living room was a bit of an odd choice, though he could appreciate the silk and headboard. And the ropes. This was gonna be a fun night.

Lorelai came back, a smile playing on her lips. She put a hand to his chest. "Come closer, Señor. Permítame whisper in your ear."

He leaned close, his smile tentative now. Her lups were so close they tickled him just as a sharp pain struck his neck.

"I never liked you," she whispered, pressing the needle in harder as he tried to pull away. He shoved her away and staggered back, staring at the clear fluid still in the syringe.

"What the fuck did you just do to me, you crazy bitch?" he screamed, clutching bis neck. Her smiling, round face had gone hard and cold, expression neutral.

"Oh, calm down. It's just lorazepam," she said. "They use it on unruly patients all the time. It's probably the safest injectable sedative."

Ge hit out at her but she easily dodged the sluggish attack. She pushed him down onto the bed, tying up his wrists. He still kicked his legs until she tied his ankles too. He was finally silent when she wrapped the duct tape around his head and moury several times.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, tying ger hair back. "Alexa, play Bury Me at Makeout Creek by Mitski, full album."

It's beautiful out today

I wish you could take me upstate

To the little place you would tell me about

"When you'd sense that I'd want to escape," Lorelai sang over the muffled screams and shouts, pulling on her mask, goggles, gloves, and apron. Viktor could only stare at the saws, scalpels, drills, and needles that she left on the table before she disappeared into another room.

No one could hear him scream.

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #surgical whump #medical whump #magical whump #tw self harm #self harm tw #torture #torture tw #female whumper #female whump #male whump #male whumpee #female whumpee #tw death #death tw #creepy whumper

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prorevenge · 6 years ago

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Buddy, You Picked the Wrong Person to Harass

The year was 2014 (or maybe 2013? who gives a shit?), and I was a freshman in high school. On a general basis it sucked. I mean, it was an American public high school with literally thousands of kids, it's a given that it's gonna blow some major balls. One thing in particular that made it extra sucky though was gym class. Specifically, this one guy in gym class.

This dude's name was Jack A. McGee, the 'A' of course being short for 'Ass'. As the name would imply, he was a jackass.

At first, it was pretty standard "high school guy in gym class"-level of obnoxious prick. You know the type: overly loud, unreasonably aggressive during games, bossy, tossing the collective brain cell back and forth between his two equally ape-like buddies. The usual.

I don't know when, exactly, it happened, but he developed a sort of... eye for me, after the first couple of weeks or so. He started asking me bizarre questions that I now believe may have been some sort of innuendo, sitting uncomfortably close to me, resting his hand on my gym shoe- general creepy behavior.

He once blocked a doorway with his body (this dude was massive), forcing me to literally squeeze my way through and crawl over him. He then tried to grab me and pin me to him once I was almost through, but I'm very good at dodging physical contact whenever possible, and dipped on him before his giant gorilla arm could catch me. I still shudder thinking about it. I cannot emphasize enough how terrible this dude smelled.

But the true breaking point came during the peak cruelty of this school mandated sadism: gym swim.

Before anyone asks, let it be known that yes, I did try to tell someone about this. I told my gym teacher first semester, really early on, that Jack was making me incredibly uncomfortable. The gym teacher waved it off, saying he was "just playing around" and that "it's probably because he likes you". His suggestion was basically to just put up with it and wait it out, because he was sure Jack would lose interest soon anyways.

Spoiler alert: he didn't

Second semester rolls around, and the four week period of gym swim descends upon us like the bloated carcass of a catapulted whale, crushing us beneath its wet, foul smelling body. 40 some odd adolescents forced into a cold, overly chlorinated pool for 50+ minutes, adorned in swimsuits determined to crawl up into our assholes like Antman himself.

It was hell on earth, basically.

As I've mentioned in a previous post, I am autistic, so the echoing sounds, reflected fluorescent lights, pungent odors, slimy floors, and assorted BS made the situation even worse for me. I wasn't officially diagnosed yet, so my complaints were written off as me being whiny, and I was told to shut up and deal with it. So I did. I think I had more meltdowns in that four week span than I've had in the past two years combined, but whatever.

On top of the sensory overload, there was Jack.

I think something about being allowed to go shirtless and stare at the nearly bare asses of girls for an entire period emboldened him, because Jack promptly lost whatever semblance of restrain he'd had until then.

He made frequent attempts to grab me, trying to hold me against his bare skin, which was disgusting, and I spent most of the class trying to evade him. The swimsuit I was forced to wear fit a little awkwardly around my chest, which he delighted in pointing out to his buddies, staring unabashedly at my breasts. He managed to sneak up behind me and snap the strap of my swimsuit, even trying to pull it down off my shoulder, but I jerked away fast enough to prevent that. I was furious at this point, but I'm like, 5'2", maybe, whereas he was easily over 6'5", probably 300+ pounds, and I'm not stupid.

While all of this was happening, my new gym teacher, (they switched every semester), was busy trying to keep a couple of the other guys from drowning each other. She was one adult forced to watch over 40 rowdy ass kids in a swimming pool; she was a bit preoccupied.

The final straw came one Wednesday afternoon, the event that finally pushed me off the edge of the rationality I'd been clinging to and sent me plummeting into full on bloodthirst.

There I was, paddling around, minding my own business, when Jack and his two goons manage to corner me. I'm immediately suspicious, hackles raised, as they ask me fairly banal questions about how the pool is today and the like, sniggering the whole time. I give short, terse answers, trying to see if I could maybe slip past them. I spot an opening and bolt for it, but Jack was apparently expecting this.

As I swim through the narrow gap between him and one of his friends, he stretches his arm out, and actually manages to slip his hand under my suit to grab my breast. I froze for a moment, the delighted giggling of him and his friends echoing in my ears as if from a thousand miles away.

The next thing I knew, I was out of the pool, being held back by the gym teacher, and Jack had a bloody nose. He was shouting angrily at me, calling me a "crazy bitch!!" as his nose gushed blood into the water. There was mass confusion among the class. I was told to change quickly and sit in the hallway.

Apparently, the gym teacher had heard me screech like a banshee, followed by a number of shouts, and had looked over to see me wrestle out of Jack's grip, jump on his back, and throw him off balance enough to smash his face into the edge of the pool wall. I remembered none of this, but I did find a few chunks of greasy brown hair clenched in my fist that I'd evidently ripped from his scalp when the teacher pulled me off. I washed my hands thoroughly.

It was decided that I'd go in early to school tomorrow to have a little talk with the Dean. They would've just sent me there straight away, but gym was my last class of the day, and the Dean had already left by then for whatever reason, so it had to be postponed a little while. It was pretty heavily implied that I was going to be suspended, quite possibly even expelled, for what had happened.

I was furious. Not only had Jack made my life a living hell, but his horse shit was now going to be the cause of my expulsion?!? I wasn't about to go down without a fight, but I realized that I'd have to play this pretty smart if I wanted to weasel out of it.

The next morning, I did two things: I put on mascara, and I made a superficial, but rather painful incision on my right thigh, high enough so as to be covered by my shorts.

Normally, I hate wearing makeup, because I don't like the way it feels, but I'd worn mascara before and noticed the interesting effect it had on my appearance. Specifically, I already have pretty long, pretty dark eyelashes, so adding mascara draws a lot of attention to my eyes and makes them look huge. Like, total Bambi eyes- wide, innocent, naive, harmless.

I sat down in front of the Dean at 6:40 a.m. I didn't need to fake the fear in my expression, but I made sure to throw in something that could be interpreted as guilt, too, bowing my head and twisting my face in dismay.

Needless to say, the Dean was pretty pissed.

"Do you know why you're here, young lady?" he said

"Yes," I said softly.

"And you know that what you did is very serious?"

"Yes," I said again, making my voice tremble.

"Care to explain yourself, then?"

"I..." I began, my voice shaking. "I just wanted him to stop..."

"Stop what?" The Dean prompted, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I just wanted him to stop touching me!" I blurted. As I said this, I reached my hand under the table where he couldn't see it and dug my finger into the cut on my leg, causing me to lurch forward as if in a sob, my other hand covering my face as my eyes watered from the pain.

"Touching you?" The Dean asked, his brows now on a collision course for Mars.

I spent the next several minutes divulging all the shit that had happened to me that year, digging into my injury for some tears whenever necessary, and by the end of it the Dean looked horrified. He reaffirmed that no, I shouldn't have attacked Jack like that, but that they'd have to investigate the matter further.

I basically got off with a slap on the wrist, and after multiple testimonies from other girls, Jack got suspended for two weeks. I wasn't satisfied. They hadn't been able to expel him due to "lack of hard evidence", but I was out for blood.

He returned to school two weeks later, and I was ready.

One of his friends had a little brother in my bio class, a fairly chill dude named Owen, who I had worked out a deal with. See, Jack had been very vocal about his displeasure with me to his friends, which made its way to Owen, who, for the low low price of bailing his dumb ass out in biology, was more than willing to share that information with me. I had a direct pipeline.

Anything Jack shared with his friends made its way directly to me via Owen, and, as it turns out, this dude didn't keep a whole lot to himself.

There was a lot of shit I was tempted to nail him for. For instance, I found out he was selling drugs (mostly adderal and some occasional weed) from his locker, and had been cheating his way through most of his classes. However, I knew how suspicious it would look for me to report something like that so soon. It'd probably just look like I had a grudge, (which I did), and was trying to get even, (which I was).

He slipped up really, really bad about a week after his return, and that was when I struck.

See, he hadn't been subtle about his displeasure with my retaliation, and spent most of gym class sending really ugly looks my way. The gym teacher kept us as far away from each other as possible, but he managed to track me down in a passing period one day and rant at me about how I had screwed him over and that I was a lying little bitch, yada yada yada, and that he'd make me regret it. Funny, stole the words right out of my mouth.

I found out from Owen later that Jack had been bragging to his friends last night about the switchblade he'd stolen from one of those hunting stores downtown, and promised he'd show it off to them later that day.

I seized the opportunity.

I took a few seconds in the bathroom mirror, scratching at the scab on my leg until my eyes were teary enough to really sell the "terrified victim" look, then bolted down to the Dean's office, stuttering and shaking, crying out for help. The front desk lady was understandably startled by the sight of a seemingly panicked freshman girl bolting into the office, and called the Dean out right away. His face grew serious when he saw me.

"M-Mr. Dean, please help! He's gonna kill me!" I cried.

"Now, slow down," he said. "What happened?"

"Jack!" I said, resisting the urge to grin maniacally at the hardness that appeared in the Dean's eyes. "He, he cornered me in the hall! He called me a bitch and said he was gonna make me regret telling on him! H-he's got a knife!!"

"He what?!" The Dean barked.

Everything moved very quickly after that. The security guards were told to search the kids locker, while a couple other security officers were called down to get Jack out of his classroom and take him to the office. I was told by the front desk lady, who had heard the whole exchange, to hide with her in the copier room so Jack wouldn't see me.

They found the (stolen) knife in his backpack, and the drugs in his locker. That, combined with his previous charges, was enough to get him not only expelled, but arrested. I never saw him again, which is probably a good thing because I'm still mad and would probably try to kill him if given the opportunity.

TL;DR: Guy sexually harasses me in gym class, I give him a bloody nose, a two week suspension, an expulsion, and a criminal record, all in that order.

(source) story by (/u/FeralTaxEvader)

#prorevenge #by /u/FeralTaxEvader #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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questionablygourmet · 6 years ago

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I Like This Show A Normal Amount: Will Graham As Autistic Representation

In a previous meta post about Will, I briefly alluded to my appreciation for Will as good autistic representation, and for Free-For-All Friday, @tin-can-paladin prompted me to do as I’d said I might and write a Thing about that. (Hopefully today is the day I actually get this post finished and up!) So here we go.

First of all, this post will be starting from the premise that Will is an autistic character. I don’t particularly care if Hugh’s said he’s not; whether or not he meant to, he and Bryan gave us an autistic-coded character and I reserve the right to be delighted about it! (Actually, that’s not quite true - I do care, in the sense that I wish he hadn’t said that, because acknowledging portrayals of characters on the spectrum that aren’t a walking fucking stereotype played for lulz *cough BBT COUGH* or as a tragedy inflicted upon their neurotypical family members as being on the spectrum is Important. But whatever.)

This post will address aspects of Will as a character, but also to an extent how he’s handled in the wider context of the show, and why that matters.

Agency

This was my primary focus on that previous Will meta post, but in context of autistic representation, I think it’s an important thing to highlight in this post as well: Will Graham is a whole-ass adult in control of his actions even when other characters don’t think so (see: Alana, Jack, et al in late season 1) or are actively trying to subvert that (see: Hannibal, You Asshole).

Autistic characters in various media are all-too-frequently infantilized and handled as though their environment/circumstances completely dictate their behavior. Will both implicitly and explicitly (“You can’t reduce me to a set of influences” - ironically for a later part of this post, the next thing he says mentions behaviorism), resoundingly rejects this, and I love that as part of his narrative in general but also as an autistic character in particular.

Empathy

This one’s gonna be a doozy. There’s a lot to talk about here that all generally falls under the heading of “autism and empathy,” so I’ll do my best to stay organized.

First, the simplest: He cares! So! Deeply! And complexly! And we know that throughout the show!

Frankly, this in particular massively exacerbates my irritated wish that the creators would explicitly acknowledge him as autistic because holy shit the stereotypes he combats with this. Autistic people in the real world have widely varied, diverse relationships with empathy and compassion (which are different things, and I have some beefs with the way the show uses the word “empathy,” but that’s a digression and this is already going to be a long post), but media largely erases this, conflating difficulties with normative, neurotypical-passing social behavior with inability to empathize, and/or display compassion, and/or even feel emotions (FFS).

There’s a related point about “normative-passing social behavior” that I want to expand on a bit, here: we see a lot of profound differences in demeanor for Will over the course of the show, and that’s something I’ve seen interpreted as manipulation sometimes when it really isn’t. (Not to say Will is not manipulative/capable of being manipulative, because he is, very! But not everything calculated is necessarily manipulative, and I see the two conflated a lot and that annoys me.) Will has, to my eyes, four basic social “modes.”

I’m Dealing With Most People With Whom I Have No Particular Antipathy Or Affection - Aloof, and either standoffish or polite depending on how his boundaries are being treated. He’s not particularly interested in making people comfortable when they’re making him uncomfortable (and being a white dude generally enables him to take this attitude without big repercussions), and people frequently make him uncomfortable.

I’m Dealing With Someone I Perceive As Vulnerable - Exaggeratedly calm, kind, careful. He’s trying to connect and provide comfort and support. He’s minding his every move and word because he doesn’t want to cause harm incidentally. (Abigail, Peter, Walter, etc. and to some extent, Margot, though with her it’s mixed with other attitudes.)

I’m Dealing With An Enemy - This is where the manipulativeness (and even, particularly in the cases of Bedelia and Hannibal, cruelty) comes in. He’s minding his every move and word because he wants to elicit a specific response from the person he’s interacting with. (This comes into play with Jack and Alana at various points even though they are rarely full enemies.)

I’m Dealing With A Trusted Friend - Has neither the deliberation of 2-3 nor quite the standoffishness of 1. He’s neither projecting an image appropriate to a specific kind of fraught social situation, nor actively trying to deflect attention and interaction. In my opinion we really only see this with Hannibal (in season 1 and then with flashes of it in 2 and 3) and Molly, though he gets close in a handful of moments with Alana, Beverly, and Jack.

All these modes deal with a) to what extent he is acting, and b) why he’s acting. And I love that we get to see this breadth of social interaction modes from him, because that is an accurate and sensitive portrayal of an autistic adult, reflecting the often-dramatic differences in “difficulty setting” of an interaction - how and to what extent are we expected to (or otherwise have a need to) mimic neurotypical mannerisms? What are the stakes of the situation? These are explicit considerations for a lot of autistic people, and Will demonstrates that vividly throughout the series.

Another way in which empathy and social interaction come into play in terms of autistic representation is that Will can and does form strong social bonds - not very often, because the way most other adults treat him isn’t conducive to it, but with people who display acceptance/a lack of judgment for his non-neurotypical reactions and behaviors, and importantly, who don’t treat him as Other for the way he can reconstruct crime scenes, we see that can form very strong bonds. Hannibal is obviously the prime example of this, but also Molly, and to a much lesser extent, Alana and Margot. (Though Jack refers to him as a friend and they have some friendly interactions, their bond is not a strong one and not at all marked by the kind of humanizing acceptance it takes to get truly close to Will.) People who accept who he is, and who are neither threatened by his skills nor dependent on them.

Finally, in this section, let’s look at the crime scene reconstructions and “getting inside killers’ heads” bit.

I have complex feelings about this aspect of the show, or more precisely, how other characters talk about his reconstructions and serial killer profiling - they (even Hannibal, to an extent) talk about it in mystifying terms, and I thoroughly dislike the term “empathy disorder” that gets thrown around so much in seasons 1-2 to explain what he does. Will is apt to testily correct people that he just interprets the evidence, and that is exactly what he is doing. His vivid imagination coupled with years of active study of criminal psychology allow him to take that interpretation a lot farther than anyone else would, and sometimes make intuitive leaps that the other characters can’t follow. But it’s clear that this intuition is founded in concrete evidence, as we frequently see him stymied when he doesn’t quite have enough of it, much to the frustration of Jack, who is particularly shitty about treating him like an oracle.

I like that Will gets to stick up for himself and correct people on several occasions, but I wish the ableism and the Othering was less pervasive amongst the other characters because it makes me want to slap them. I find that I really appreciate how most of the fic I’ve read since entering the fandom thoroughly and often explicitly rejects the pseudo-magical divination and/or Crazy Person With Magic Brain angle.

Perspective

There was something I was reaching at that was eluding me in my first attempt at this draft, and then I ran into an excellent article about writing autistic characters that suddenly and thoroughly solidified it for me. It’s really brilliant; it discusses and illustrates the strong difference between a behavioristic (see previous reference) approach to characterization and a humanizing one. Behavioristic analyses divorce themselves from the actual mindset and experience of the subject, whereas humanizing portrayals display the subjective experience of the person who is perhaps behaving in a way other people may find confusing.

Since Will is the main point of view character in the show, we get front-row seats to his subjective experience and can therefore more properly empathize with him. An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior. The behavior that Jack and various other characters are exasperated, impatient, and/or unnerved over all looks pretty reasonable when we know how Will is experiencing the crime scene, or are seeing his nightmares and hallucinations along with him! And while the nightmares and hallucinations in season 1 are a matter of encephalitis and trauma rather than neurotype, it still matters that we’re led to understand something of what he goes through, from his own perspective rather than an outside one.

It’s incredibly necessary emotional context moving forward in the show, giving us an autistic character who is flawed but deeply human and whose darkness we can understand.

#hannibal #will graham #my meta #meta #thanks for the nudge to actually write this #it was difficult enough that it probably wouldn't have happened without said nudge #but i really wANTED to write it so #I Like This Show A Normal Amount

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irrevocably-delicious · 6 years ago

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Omg reading that long-ass list of voltron moments yoy rebloged gave me a cringe-worthy throwback of the beginings of the fandom. But the most awkward one was the 'dirty laundry' phase, like idk why but everybody spoke of that fic; and even tho i've read a lot of popular ones i've never read that one in particular. Did you read it? why was there so much discourse about it? Some loved it and some hated it with passion, idk it was confusing

OH GOD.

Do I dare…. after all these years do I dare… express…. my Dirty Laundry feelings?

Do I touch this long forgotten cornerstone of the Klance fandom?

The answer of course is YES.

So to answer your first question: YES I ABSOLUTELY READ IT AND ABSOLUTELY WAITED IN EXCITEMENT FOR UPDATES.

The thing about Dirty Laundry is…. it’s really a basic fic. Not bad! Not fantastic. There’s nothing new about it at all. It’s your classic fake dating fic where someone has to bring a date home to their family but UH OH, some of the family is homophobic! It has all the plot beats you would expect. It’s fine. It’s fun! It’s nice. Like most multi-chaptered fics, I think it goes for too long and could cut out some unnecessary stuff, but it’s perfectly nice.

HOWEVER, the reason it got so HUGE was just… well timing really.

THE RISE

We were a brand new fandom. A brand new ship. We needed content, but these characters were still so new to us. We had no idea where the show was going or even much of how the characters were characterised (go back to season 1. Keith does and says fuck all). So when people were looking for some content to enjoy: lo and behold a fake dating fic! Oh thank god that’s pretty safe! We know what to expect from that, right? Everyone loves fake dating fics!

The author writes well enough! It updates pretty regularly! It was really just a perfect storm of “This will do.”

So people read it. And because there was very little to recommend, people suggested it to others. People talked about it, blogged about it, held it up as the BE ALL END ALL klance fic, which of course drew others in. There were memes, fan art like crazy! People would just post on here “IT UPDATED!” and you knew what they were talking about. Some of the first BIG FANDOM blogs also talked about it a lot, so in turn all of their followers wanted to know what this THING was! I’ll be really up front about this, I followed klanced REALLY EARLY and she talked about it a decent amount. I ended up reading it because I just wanted to know what this crazy 16 year old was yelling about all the time.

However after everyone was raving about it, new readers inevitably picked it up and ended up being a bit disappointed. Then some of the later chapters were posted.

THE FALL

As I said, Dirty Laundry is very basic. I don’t mean that in a degrading way, I just mean that in an “It is what it is” way. It’s a fake dating fic. You know the plot now. The author’s writing style is fine. Nothing fancy. Good grammar. Direct and to the point. Perfectly apt to tell the story. So with so many people raving about it, I think there was a surge of negativity from people going “It’s not even that good. Why does this have the highest rating?” and that’s not really fair. Like could you say it’s overrated? Yeah. But it never claimed to be anything grander than what it is. The fandom put these expectations on the fic, it’s not the writer’s fault. She’s just a kid writing a fake dating fic. She’s not trying to write Schindler’s list or anything.

Though what probably started the wave of discourse was the introduction of an Autistic character and some of the stereotypical portrayals of Lance’s family.

I’m gonna start with the character with ASD because that’s the thing I can actually talk about with some knowledge and experience. Bear with me… I haven’t touched this fic in a VERY long time, but I vividly recall the OUTRAGE when this character was introduced. People called her an offensive stereotype and incorrect portrayal. A token character tossed in without any care for the sake of extra kudos. I heard all this BEFORE I read the chapter, so I expected the worst… when I went to read it… it was really not any of those things. It wasn’t great! Hardly nuanced or anything, but the character seemed very textbook. Like the author had opened a journal on “What is Autism?” and was reciting it through this character. ASD is really difficult I think to write for because it actually presents itself in different ways. So when there were people claiming “I’m autistic and I don’t do that!” that’s not really fair, because your experience is not the same as others. It felt like people had a problem with how the character spoke? And I think that’s actually more from a young author not knowing how to write kid dialogue than not knowing how to write an autistic character. Writing kids is… fucking hard.

It was especially saddening to hear that the author introduced this character in honour of a very good friend of hers, who’s sibling(?) has ASD and she wanted to represent them. This representation was not the most poetic, but it came from good intentions and I felt was not hurtful. I don’t have ASD, so I don’t want to speak for others, and I realise this was not the case for everyone.

But the other big issue was the portrayal of Lance’s Mexican family. People felt that his Mexican family being homophobic was a stereotype. There’s a reference to throwing a chancla, Lance knows how to salsa, he and his siblings blast Gasolina in the car. A lot of people felt that these were stereotypes bordering on racist, though you also had hispanic people coming forward and saying “This feels like my family”. It was a very aggressive conversation, with people labelling the author as racist and problematic. Do I think the author was problematic? Yeah, but I don’t think that makes her a terrible person. I think that just means she was ignorant and still learning about these things. Probably a few comments and a bit of guidance would have been all that was necessary in educating her about these issues.

But that’s not how things went.

FINAL RESULT AND WORDS

I want to make it clear, that out of all the horrible, bat-shit crazy things this fandom has done, NOTHING has disgusted me more than how Gibslythe (the author) was treated. I have never witnessed this fandom so voraciously and aggressively turn on a single individual. The whiplash from PRAISE to ABHORENT CONDEMNATION of Dirty Laundry was reeling. The introduction of the autistic character and singing Gasolina were very close (same chapter?) And that was the breaking point for a lot of people. The author was threatened, yelled at, called terrible names, and this thing that she had created, which had been so beloved and praised, was now being spat on by the very people who had lifted it up just days prior. I can’t imagine what she went through. I don’t want to.

While I agree worst things have happened (oh god the Josh Keaton nonsense guys, that was a low point), this has always really stuck out to me as the most disgusting, because Gibslythe was just some kid who started writing a klance fic. She was just some kid. And I’ve never quite gotten over what she must have felt when the tides suddenly shifted. Some 17 year old should not be held to such high standards. Dirty Laundry should not be held to such high expectations.

So the fic actually went on a hiatus. And the author was pretty candid with her feelings and how she wanted to either delete the whole thing, or never update again. But… amazingly…she finished it. To my absolute shock. And I believe it’s still largely unedited, because as previously stated, people did come out and say “No, I’m hispanic and I fucking love Gasolina and sing it with my family all the time.”. And I feel like it takes some serious balls to finish something that has probably become so tainted for you.

Do I Recommend It?

Dirty Laundry’s history is vastly more interesting than the fic itself. It’s completion is almost a miracle and everyone has an opinion on it. So what do I think??

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It’s alright.

#dirty laundry #retro Voltron fandom feelings #I've been ruminating on this for 2 years dudes #discourse

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ih8me2ash · 6 years ago

Text

My Journal Entries (post #18)

( Word Count: 2356 )

“My name was safest in your mouth, and why'd you have to go and spit it out? Your voice, it was the most familiar sound, but it sounds so dangerous to me now. I have questions for you.. ”

"It's been a few years since you've been gone, and there's not a day that I don't think about you. I grew up to be exactly what you wanted, I've been living out the dream that you dreamt up. Because honestly life is a nightmare when I even think of a memory of you. You still haunt me, and you’re not even close enough to touch me, see me, breathe my air, not even close enough to hurt me.. So I thought, all you have to do is sit in you’re throne of lies, as the whiplash will hit me harder than a hurricane. What did I ever do to you that made you hate me so aggressively, when you mixed it so erroneously with the word love? And that was the worst part of this endless occurring heartache. That you would never admit you’re true feelings about my whole entire existence. Love is a word you don’t throw around so nonchalantly, effortlessly, easily, you get the point, you don’t throw that word around if you don’t mean what you say, and say what you mean. " “The only closure at this point for me is not the death threats, not the aggressive rants, the insults, the claims of me lying. It’s you finally saying those three words, do you want to know what it is? Come’on it’s okay to guess, no answer? Okay, I’ll say it. I want you to say “I hate you.” To my face, via text, to me. Because I know this time you’ll mean it.” “You said, you’d love me like a sister would love her real sister. So tell me this, when I ask the question, “why.” Everytime I try to think of a time when you weren’t trying to use me.. Emotionally, physically, verbally, sexually, constantly, you loved me like a sister my ass... And I kept it inside, all of it, to make you happy.. To make a facade of a happy life, so most nights I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep because of the things you would say and do to me.. And I don’t want people to believe me, I could care less who is on my side or not. Because I know what happened, it’s my body.. And you took it from me, you took my innocence, you took the only thing that mattered to me, and that was myself.. You still have that part of me, and honestly, you can keep it, if that’s what helps you sleep at night. Because that’s a piece of myself that I never want back, Why did you leave me here to burn? I’ve combusted into flames, and rose from the ashes that held the spot of my body in graved into the soil. Reborn into the person that I, myself wanted to always be. ” “I think, you’re scared that I’m off my leash and chain, that this poor dog is going to cry and whine. But I don’t want to keep this negative vibe in-caved into my soul, sure I can rant and rave all I want. But what is the actual point of that? Fame? Attention? Fake friends built on a bridge of insecurities trapped behind a mask? Oh doesn’t that sound like the dream, but it’s not the dream I wish for myself. So I blocked all the people who even remotely associate themselves with you. To avoid the drama you and them bring along in the air to make me the slightest bit upset. Because I’m not unhealthy, I’m not obsessed by spreading mockery through out non-important peers, I’m not in controlling the media to turn myself into the victim, who wants to play the victim anyways? It’s really boring.“ “Speaking of playing victim; I love how you thought I would even been the slightest pushed away from our own brother, because the woman that called herself his step-mother. Let’s get one thing straight, I cried the whole time because she use this get together that was supposed to be about our brother but making it about trying to eat me alive. To torment, ridicule, jeopardize, snarl, nit-pick, bite, and poke at me. You know she acts like our real mother right? So you understand that she’s a psychopath? That now she verbally abuses him? He was trying to have fun, but you know that’s kind of hard when he kept being reminded of the bad things that happen to us. And not once did I mentioned the gun thing, because I did not want to trigger our “non-autistic” brother. Yes, to her the woman you think so highly about, thinks that our brother isn’t normal if he has autism and labels him with OCD?” “Let’s take a step by step of how I felt that day, and let’s use a bland word I don’t want to use but that’s how it made me feel.. I felt like I was all alone, and now I’m a shame to our family because I didn’t choose them to run to. But you want to know something? Now that I think about it, I never belonged in the first place. You all are such hostile and violent people, I could never compare myself to you all, not even in a single timeline. It’s kinda embarrassing now that I think about it, all my family is good at, is making a big seen in public in make an absolute ass out of themselves. Hysterical, because to be honest my real family is just a joke to me. Of course, their are a few decent people in the bunch, but two have passed away, of natural and murder causes, one is on his way of dying, and going legit senile, and the last one is my brother who has a crazy bitch-ass of a step-mother holding him captive, making it crystal clear that she does not want him communicating with me. But seventeen years, beats two years. I raised him, not his father, not his real mother, not his step-mother, it was Nana and I.. And I was the one taking care of the family, went Nana couldn’t anymore, or at least I tried.” “No one can say I didn’t do anything for anyone, while my sister was having fun getting knocked up on pills she could get in her body, I was making money, the same with Alex to support the family of not going hungry.. While balancing helping around the house, helping my brother with his homework, and getting caught up with mine always the hour before school started. She couldn’t keep a fucking job either, and when she got money, it went to things that were only for her, like drugs, booze, make-up, unnecessary things that we could not lived on.. And if my aunt said she cared and she loved me, then why the hell did she not check up on us? Did she think a 21 year old could take care of a family of five? This is the stuff the hit me so hard. It burns, and I’ve been made into the ashes of the pain and suffering that has been. This world is just a crazy fire, and I am a log being thrown in to it.”

“She’s in love with the concept, as if we’re all just how she imagined. How we talked shit like we knew what we wanted, I still remember what she said.“I don’t need your love anymore.” It’s easier if she thinks she won so I’m going to let her think all she wants. Look at us burning down in flames for kicks but just know, I’m not saying this for your love, I’m just saying this because it’s over. And I used to blame myself, then I blamed everybody else, but never you because you were just a messed up kid, who’d step in it, get mad, and say you didn’t give a shit about anyone besides you. But I won’t change for you anymore, I’m ash. And I’m proud of myself. From where I came from, to where I stand now. It’s probably the most improvement that has ever even occurred in my life. Now can I say that I’m happy? Not at this point just yet, I’m still fighting my “demons” after all. Most try to end up physically in my life, but my emotions are always on high alert. Never calm with the feeling of you ever trying to control me again, which makes me sick to my stomach. ” “I’ve been thinking about talking to you after the five years are up, this is for you to understand, that my existence even grazing your bubble occurs on your actions and how you decide to treat me in a few words. Treat me the way you want to be treated, and if you treat me like shit, that I’ll throw it back into your face like acid. Can’t say I didn’t try, and to be honest I know til this day, you haven’t changed. But I have, because I didn’t want hatefulness to control who I want to become later on in my life. I was tired of the gossip, so I dropped everyone who still talked about you, because you want to know something? I still love you, even if you fucked me up.. I think you fucked me up, I don’t know, sometimes I believe I could of done something, somewhere to make you stop all of the pain you have cause onto me. But sometimes you got to let go of some beliefs. Because I understand, you’re the type of person that cries wolf, and when someone tries to even help you out of the teeth gripping onto you’re limp body, that you’d swat away the hands of caring. Not even the most loving, supporting, caring, person in the world can even remotely take care of someone like that. Toxic, the only word I can use to describe you so clearly.”

“If you ever think about on a point in time where I ever hurt you, it doesn’t exist, because you made me out of that image to always support you.. And I was tired of being you’re security blanket, you learn when you could find other people to be fed out of you’re hands that you didn’t need me anymore. That in you’re eyes it was me who was never perfect to you. When in reality, you were the one who had so many insecurities that you didn’t want to claim you had. You didn’t want to be the damaged and the damned, it feels hopeless doesn’t it? That’s how you made me feel all those years, without you even batting an eye about my problems. Because in the end, it’s always about you. Never about the people you tend to surround yourself with, and honestly I think you would care less about them. You just don’t want to be alone, but you already are. ” “Those people, aren’t you’re family. You say that they are, but family doesn’t hurt you. They don’t make you feel unwanted and alone. They make sure you’re okay, and if you’re not, they say “it’s okay, we’ll work this out, and we’ll find away to make it okay.” That’s why I didn’t go to my real family, because I knew they would never do that for me. They would never care as much to look at me the same, and just blame me for everything that happened to me. As if I didn’t do that to myself already, for every second in this life.. But not anymore, people like Alex, DeAndre and Jennifer, know who is really at fault.. It was never me, but you. “ “Some part of me wants to know, if you ever understood your actions and were willing to take any of the consequences, and all this time acting dumb to it all? or were you just so mentally inefficient, or in a simpler way of putting it “to many screws lose,” that you didn’t really believe what you were doing to me was ever in the wrong? Because when I bring it up to a “normal” person, the same thing comes up of how you’re beliefs are invalided, or even cryptic. And they are disgusted of the fact that you still classify as an innocent person. When I was used by such a appalling person who dare called herself a “perfect older sister.” I still have flashbacks, now knowing everything was a lie and that you only wanted me to get your frustration out. Such a tedious tactic, or even better, such a cliche tactic.” “You, even, forced me to smoke weed and get wasted with you! I never wanted to do any of the things that you thought I wanted to do, because I wasn't who you thought I was. You painted this picture of the perfect sister, and I struggled to fit my odd shaped puzzle piece into it, but I never could. Every time that I failed to do what you wanted me to do, you would yell at me and I would yell back, then you would shove me, push me into things, slap me, or threaten to sit on me. It doesn’t matter if you say that I wanted to smoke with you, it still against you! I was a minor, a kid, and you were supposed to be there for me, and not there to hurt me even farther. Because you cannot face the truth, that you are not defective, the world is. The only defect that you have, is that you don't know what love is, and I fear that you never will. You push away everyone that does love you, and manipulate those who are close to you. They should get their priorities straight, of what devil lives under their covers.” “I can say now, that I’m in someway or shape of form of a so called survivor, of so many list of things.. I was finally diagnosed with Post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), I’ve apparently had it since a very young age. I’ve also been diagnosed with depression and anxiety, anorexia, and panic attacks. I don’t know if you understand what this means, but sometimes I can’t sleep at night, I’m scared too. I can’t be around people often, or I’ll have an overload of thoughts that will come to mind that have actually successfully made me blackout or faint. I actually hate having these problems, I can’t even cuddle my boyfriend because sometimes he touches me to hold me in a better position and I will have flashbacks and I’ll choke back tears.. He can’t even kiss me often because it scares me.. I’m terrified of life because of what you and mom have done to me..” “Petrified of women authority figures, or who are mothers, or even mothers to me. I don’t want to be female because women are never good in my eyes because you showed me what their actually capable of. It’s not a phase I promise, and you calling me by my prefer pronouns made me disgusted, because you’re the one who said you would disown me if I ever changed my name or my gender. Being a kiss ass, doesn’t, make, me, like, people. It’s just makes you look ignorant, and cheap with words. I was taught, that people’s options and opinions are valid in the real world, so why try so hard to bite you’re tongue. Don’t even want to call me a faggot or a disappointment to the family like everyone else did? They didn’t even know I identify as a male. They just go off the fact that I’m a liar and that I can never be trusted. Because I lied about the abused that went on in that house, you think they believe me if I said you molested me as a minor for three years? Of course not, because I was always the outcast in our family, I was the weird shy mutt. The one who was putting a dint in the financials of my mother’s pocket because I was “ill”, which I found out that I have a upj kidney obstruction, not kidney failure, mom lied to you all to get more pills about of the doctors.

- ａｓｈｔｏｎ ♡

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lgbtsheep · 6 years ago

Text

my aj characters

buckle in pardners cause this is gonna be a looong ride

ya this is gonna be a really long post lol

i finally got a membership!!!!!! so i can make a post with all my characters!!!! which ive been wanting to do for AGES

i’ll put my Main Kids here and then put a read more for those who are interested!

so get ready folks because this is like a big dysfunctional family

MAIN KIDS

Meadow

the “main” boi, the face of the whole group

usually manages stuff like den stores and trading

genderfluid, will go by any pronouns

pansexual

very friendly and sociable! he’s the one you see and think “i should talk to them”

lives in peck’s den, but needs to redecorate it

he loves his bedroom, even if desert went a little crazy decorating it...

this is his pet, Mumbleimus:

he’s a star and he knows it

will probably strike a pose for u

gender roles whomst? he only knows fashion

occasionally makes bad puns

Desert

secret mira fanboy

kind of edgy

tries to act mean or secluded but he’s not really that mean

he/him but he isn’t totally a binary dude

his sexuality is a mystery to everybody, even himself

his bird tendencies are. through the roof. he is just. so very bird.

wants to become a therapist stationed in the basement of secrets

lives in peck’s den or the treehouse

he......... lov his bed................

this is his pet, Musicalfrost!

desert’s PRIDE AND JOY, he would kill for this little gal

punk rock

might try and attack you

mischievous

Atom

me, but cooler

Hip With the Kids™

they/them

bisexual

starts celebrating halloween in august

probably a demon

cryptid and space enthusiast

lives in any of the dens, but most primarily peck’s den and the enchanted hollow

what a nerd.

this is their pet, Oddpebble!

a little fucking rascal

very good at percussion (he has many hands)

definitely a demon

lovable weirdo

Magical

THE OG!!!

very first animal, ever

literally just me

he/they

pansexual

has anxiety issues

tries very hard

huge nerd

lives with greencloud in the default den, but is putting together another den to move into

one of the nonmember kiddos

goes on the land missions/adventures

they really like plants

this is his pet, Windowbee!

kind of creepy but aesthetically pleasing

a lot like onion from steven universe

those feathers he’s holding are what remains of his enemies

Magical loves him

that’s all the main kiddos! the rest are under the cut!

PRIMARY KIDS

Greencloud

was going to be a tertiary, but he complained so much he became a primary

the cooler Magical

probably cooler than you

also hip with the kids

unmedicated ADHD

he/they

bisexual

kind of annoying

acts like he isnt trying, but he really is

lives in the default den

this is his pet, Silverysky!

quiet, tiny punk

kind of shy

is actually pretty cool when you get to know him

Soft™

likes metal and screamo

Bean

kind of freaked out by all the other animals

lives in the default den, but is rarely ever seen there

quiet

always weirded out but tries to go along

he/they

heterosexual (or... attracted to women?? idk) aromantic

the other nonmember kiddo

never talks to anybody

this is his pet, Misscrystal!

the mom friend

all of the animals adore her

she loves u

Pear

a REAL PIRATE!!

goes on the water missions/adventures

adventurous

he/him

heterosexual

YARR

isnt lgbt but is a very enthusiastic ally

lowkey a softie

lives in either the treehouse, the lost ruins den, or the sky kingdom

this is his land pet, Microbook!

he’s very old and kind of kooky

has embraced the pirate aesthetic

wants to be a pirate just like his dad

gets very excited about adventures

loves adventuring w Pear

this is his ocean pet, Summershell!

he loves her to death

isn’t necessarily fond of the pirate aesthetic but doesn’t mind it

she especially loves when Pear gets excited about dressing her like a pirate and coos over her

loves attention

was the product of a crappy trade but Pear didn’t want to get rid of her

not as enthusiastic about being a pirate

Apple

an absolute ray of sunshine

very carefree and friendly

there’s a running gag between the animals about Apple and Pear being a duo called “the fruit bowl”

doesn’t talk very much but will make sure u know he loves u

he/they

asexual aromantic

lives in the lost ruins den, but they really need to decorate it

this is their pet, Uberimus!

he’s pretty spooky but actually very friendly

needs more friends. he scared all his old ones off

quiet

just wants to be loved

gets lots of cuddles from Apple

gentle

Rainy

avid australian

very adventurous

tomboy aesthetic

loves all the freaky animals out there. the more exotic, the better

wants one of those shows where they go to australia and do a lot of dangerous stuff with the wildlife

“that over there is the most venomous animal in the world!...”

“...I’m gonna poke it with a stick.”

she/they (usually they)

homosexual

lives in the treehouse

the only time they’d be seen without their aviator’s hat is if they were dead

Desert got to decorate the bedroom, and, uh... yeah.

this is her pet, Macroimus!

she would kill for this “dapper little fellow”

used to have a top hat and monocle

recently went into an anime phase

loves adventures

Rosy

loves pink

has a very masculine build that he is very happy with

loves flowers and cute things and everything girly

lives in peck’s den

he/him

sexuality? who has time for that? i only have time for fashion.

probably asexual homoromantic (but he’s never really looked into it)

total fashionista

fuck gender roles

luxury.

this is his pet, Toyturtle! (sorry for the bad picture oops)

very pampered

the sweetest little turtle

loves her little beetle friend

friendly but a little airheaded

Lilac

is an artist

a nervous nerd

likes anime

she/her

grey asexual panromantic

lives in the enchanted hollow

shy, but once you get to know her she never shuts up

this is her pet, Sircrystal!

narcissistic

very much like King George’s depiction from Hamilton the musical

probably plotting your murder

he is the best. everybody else in inferior.

thinks he’s an actual king, higher then the alphas

“i’ll kill your friends and family to remind you of my love”

possessive

materialist

Lilac is kind of terrified of him but she still loves him

Sunny

obsessed with nature

an actual child

impulsive

has to be closely monitored or else she’ll probably make stupid decisions

ridiculously friendly

a mildly annoying ray of sunshine

she/her

she’s a literal child she doesn’t know romance

the equivalent of like an 8 year old

lives in the mushroom hut with her brother (she needs to decorate it though!!)

this is her pet, Gummyturtle!

can kick ass

kind of like a tiny bodyguard for Sunny

loves being dressed up

essentially teaches Sunny how to take care of her and properly treat pets, since Sunny does behave much like a child

kawaii as fuck

big,, floppy ears,,,,,,,,

likes spicy food

from Japan

DJ Kawaiimoon

demands you call him by his full name while staring him in the eye

tsundere type

grumpy

secretly soft

likes screamo bands

he/him

bisexual but still figuring it out

the equivalent of 13 years old

Sunny’s brother

lives in the mushroom hut

relatively quiet, but usually complaining if he’s talking

this is his pet, Jellyninja!

DJ Kawaiimoon LOVES him

is like the only person DJ Kawaiimoon is nice to

friendly and boyish

really likes sweets

TERTIARY KIDS

Juniper

still figuring out what the hell her look is supposed to be

frenemies with Lilac

the bad kind of weaboo

pretty problematic

probably posts edgy things in hopes of getting attention

probably fetishizes “yaoi” (ew)

she/her

calls herself bisexual to look “cool” but is actually straight

lives in the enchanted hollow

this is her pet, Snowytitan!

smol

love-hate relationship with Juniper

quiet

absolutely loves everybody (except Juniper sometimes)

if you feed him he’ll keep you in his heart until he dies

quiet

River

is a witch

very very creepy

takes the hyena laughter trope to heart

freaks everybody out

not as mean or scary as everybody thinks she is

they’ll still hex your ass if you wrong them though

she/they

demisexual aromantic

lives in the sky kingdom

not many of the other animals understand her; only really Mellow, Atom, and Magical

this is her pet, Puppyfrost!

also very creepy

spooks everybody

probably posessed

River’s loyal assistant

quiet

can receive prophecies and communicate with spirits

Mellow

blind

mute

just trying to get by

nonchalant and just sort of accepts all the weird shit that happens with the group

mildly edgy

he/him

bisexual demiromantic (has a preference for dudes)

lives in the volcano den

gets along with Bean

sometimes helps River with their magic

this is his pet, Mirrorfrost!

he adores her

sometimes mischievous

quiet and very intelligent

from China

is a dj

“yooooo that’s radical dude!”

surfer dude personality

very leisurely and kind of lazy

he/him

bisexual, but the type of person you wouldn’t expect to be lgbt

lives in the volcano den and needs to decorate it

very friendly

this is his pet, Zippynote!

DJ thinks he’s such a weird little fellow

and he is

very quiet

kind of just there?

relatively friendly

Quill

moved from India

think’s he’s the “chosen one” picked by Zios to defend Jamaa

wants to be part of “the fruit bowl”

self-proclaimed air-bender

he/him

heterosexual

lives in the sky kingdom

doesn’t really know anybody

heavy accent

this is his pet, Starrymantis!

he ADORES her. he thinks she is the absolute most adorable thing

he still needs to dress her up though

very sweet and friendly

loves cuddles

Mister Wonkybuddy

literally just. a dad. he is dad

he/him

heterosexual

lives in the volcano den to “keep track of those rascal teenagers”

really likes mythologies

used to be an adventurer and even got to meet sir gilbert

this is his pet, Gummypeach!

quiet and kind of creepy

it’s probably just because of his outfit though

Mister dressed him up when he was really absorbed in a book on Egyptian mythology

loves his dad and Mister loves him

Peach

the newest member to the family!

like, she is BRAND SPANKIN NEW. she doesn’t even have a pet

soft pastel nature aesthetic

clumsy due to her masculine frame

socially awkward

autistic

she/her

heterosexual (shes been experimenting with girls though)

lives in the treehouse

WHEW THATS ALL OF THEM!!!

i really hope you love my kids as much as i do!!!! if you like them please reblog them!! i’ve put so much energy into these kiddos. my children. i love them

if you’ve made it this far, holy shit thanks this took me a really long time to put together

bye!!

#cursing #aj #animal jam #jamblr #jamaa #aj ocs #aj oc #animal jam ocs #animal jam oc #jamblr blog #jamblr account #aj account #aj blog #animal jam blog #animal jam account

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skyhon-writes · 6 years ago

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When people freak out on writers for writing diverse casts of people and claiming that their diversity is “unrealistic,” or that a couple, (usually gay couples in this case, because homophobia usually masks as ‘criticism’) from different backgrounds would “never actually happen in real life”, I have to laugh.

Let me make this easy and just list some of my co-workers, whom I work with in a grocery store.

An older Jamaican woman who is loved by all customers and cuts coupons to give to them without asking for anything in return, much to the dismay of our managers (they've talked to her about it to try and make her stop because they’re db and don’t see how that’s actually drawing customers back but she just said ‘hell no’ and kept on doing it anyway). Lives by herself and goes out to dance every week; she dances at work in the break room or in between customers. Always offers me food

Goth guy who wears eyeliner and foundation to work, makes his own music and has a band, can be found in the break room with headphones on, computer tilted away from the door because he’s usually drawing furries. He plays DnD with his boyfriend, a blonde dude with a wicked beard and round thin wire glasses that make him look like a professor, and he also works here. He wants to be a history teacher. They're both really cute.

A white gal in her 60s who cusses like a sailor, drives a huge ass truck, chain-smokes, and knits long scarves only to take them apart to do it all over again. She always asks me how I’m doing and she’s super sweet. Recently got a boyfriend and she’s really excited to start dating him

Lesbian couple that work the frozen section and stock together. One girl is German, has a really thick accent, is tall and Really Fucking Butch. The other girl is this short Filipino chick who has I think 4 kids from a pervious relationship they raise together. Really cute. I can't understand half of what they say but they can understand each other perfectly and that’s all the matters

Grouchy old woman, always looks pissed off, bitch face turned up to a thousand, barks at customers. I made her laugh once and ever since she’s smiled at me, lingered to talk, and gets upset when I’m not scheduled to work when she does. The other day I asked her how she was doing offhandedly and she started crying. I hugged her and I’ve now adopted her as my grouchy grandma.

A Latina woman who hates everyone, basically, and has been working for the company for 26 years or something crazy like that. She loves and spoils her grandkids, and will talk your ear off about them any chance she gets. Idk how she even pays rent cause she literally spends like her whole paycheck on her granddaughter every week when they go shopping. Gets out the diabetes medicine and shoots up right at the table all casual like, which freaks some people out lmao

A girl on the autistic spectrum whos really nice, asks me how I'm doing and likes to talk about how traffic was getting to work. Knows almost every route to anywhere it seems, whenever anyone needs directions to somewhere I always bring them to her cause she will always know where they’re talking about is (I have no idea what streets are where even if I'm on the street someone's asking about tbh)

Black woman who’s literally the best front end manager I have ever seen. She is always on it. She deserves like 1,000 raises. Super funny and witty, she makes a horrible shift turn into a good one. She she really loves her kids, and you can tell she’s a mom cause he has a huge ass purse she has to cram into her locker every day she comes in 😂

And this is only a few of my coworkers.

Anyway, if you critique someone’s OC or story because the character(s) are ‘too diverse,’ I will literally come into your house and shit on your laptop

#writing #diversity #writing diversity #diverse characters

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plotbunnie · 6 years ago

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Mm so there’s a lot of stuff under the cut I just feel like I can’t express directly? Please don’t feel obligated to read the mess going on in my head, I just need to put it somewhere.

So this is just a big,,, massive dump of things I sometimes wish I could tell people but either it is socially unacceptable to discuss or I simply feel too guilty to do so, or feel as if I will not be understood. It’s really a big mess, so this is kind of a second ‘hey, turn back now!’ warning if that’s the sort of thing you’re not about. This is a queued post, also, because it makes me feel a little less like I’m begging for attention that way, and knowing that will probably reduce the appearance of urgency it gives by being all big and emotional.

I’ve noticed lately that I’ve been venting, more. Which is natural, I’m in school, I’m stressed, yadda yadda. But like- the things I vent about are never what really upsets me? they’re usually related but not- the thing and I’ve been examining myself to try and figure out why, and it boils down to the fact that what I end up venting about is genuinely insignificant, or at least mostly so, especially compared to whatever’s actually bothering me.

I’m also always trying to- dismiss and explain away everything that upsets me. “Oh, it’s just hormones”, “Oh, it’s just school stress making me crazy, you know”, “I’m just being oversensitive rn, it’ll pass”.

But like whoops, no, it’s not passing cause the actual root issues are a lot deeper than “I feel bad bc my teacher laughed in my face when I asked a question he didn’t like”.

And here’s the thing- I can tell myself how irrational the feelings I keep getting are all I want and it will not make them go away? In fact it’s just been forcing me to internalize them and feel shitty for feeling them at all.

So I guess here’s the part where I actually say what I’ve really been feeling, so I can look at it, and stare at it, and figure out what the hell I can actually do about it. Cause in some cases the solution seems so easy- and then it’s fucking not, and I just feel worse for failing at it.

I feel insignificant, invisible, probably some other word that starts with an ‘in’. Like I no longer exist the moment I’m outside of someone’s immediate vicinity, and only re-enter their memory bank once I’m in front of them or on their screen again. Like my whole existence is just floating in the void and sometimes a comet passes by or whatever and acknowledges me, and I’m just screaming for that acknowledgement and have no way of making it permanent. A lot of this is probably because of the fact that, thanks to my roommates & their situation, all but maybe four or five of the 20 people I met and started interacting with semi-regularly last semester no longer even acknowledge I exist- literally their expressions glaze over and they move past me, even when I’ve directly addressed them ( though I stopped doing that right quick, of course ). I’ve never, in my whole life of being picked on and pushed away from people, felt so small or alone as I do now. And I don’t know how to change that. I keep telling myself there is a way to change that, and I will find it, and all sorts of other shit a therapist would probably say, but ultimately, even if I am not this invisible being, I don’t know how to make myself stop feeling like one. I mean it’d be nice if I could ask people to remind me of that, but wow I guess that leads to the second problem?

I hate asking for things. heck, I hate receiving things without asking for them. A friend told me they were giving me something they’d gotten with digital currency they’ve amassed to a point it is no object and I still almost had a panic attack and immediately had to work out how I could even the score and pay them back. This friend reasoned that they were paying me back, but on a numbers level their gift still sort of dwarfed what I did? And so it still incited genuine fear until I could find a way to repay it back. And it’s not that I don’t want to be given things? Because then if the exchange of things ( be they compliments, edits, art scribbles, inconsequential digital currency gifts, anything because yeah, literally all of those result in the same anxiety- though some I’m better at combating the resulting anxiety than others ), then I start getting that unfortunate human response that makes me sad because I’m not getting things, when it is a commonly accepted concept that when you like someone you give them stuff ( again, not necessarily monetary or physical- applying to compliments and emotional support and all that junk as well ), and to NOT receive those things at all just feeds back into my first problem?? And it’s this awful vicious cycle. And worse than being given things out of the blue ( because the resulting warm fuzzies do generally balance out the panic and make it well worth it ) is asking for something- whether it is something I want, something I need- even suggesting something totally inconsequential that can be given to me to help someone else combat their anxiety over being given something. But kind of especially asking for things I need? Asking for help, asking for emotional support, asking for an ear to speak to- it’s why I’m typing up this long-ass post I all but begged people NOT to read despite kind of?? really wanting someone to understand what I am experiencing ( because is it real if people don’t acknowledge it or know about it or understand it? ), rather than just- talking to someone. I don’t want to burden anyone with my neediness? I don’t feel I have the right, I don’t feel that I’m a Level 7 Friend who can request emotional support, and I feel like I leveled wrong on my lower levels so I can literally never reach Level 7. Nevermind that people just plain don’t want to hear about this sort of thing because it makes people uncomfortable and that is a fact not many people are willing to acknowledge? Like in my experience ( and I am CERTAIN this is not always true, but for me it has been, or feels like it has been ) no matter how close with someone you are, chances are they don’t want to hear about your deep shit. No matter how much they say ‘never feel bad for asking for help or wanting to talk’ they are also probably internally praying you ask someone else. And that is fine? Like they gotta do they own thing and I will never begrudge them that ever ever ever because Wow Dude I Get It Big Time, but it really is a struggle when there is no one who IS willing to listen?

And sure, I could see a therapist, I did for a bit last semester and I keep telling myself to find a new one this semester since the previous one left, but honestly that one just allowed me to feel like I was trying because that’s what you do when you’ve got emotional turbulence, you see a therapist- and that’s... literally the only benefit seeing one brought me. Because they seem to be more focused on “well here is a list of ways you have already tried to potentially combat this small par of your problems without actually addressing the source”, along with “do you REALLY have this thing you were told you have because you don’t have any of these stereotypical and often inaccurate symptoms listed in this short passage of a book that is my only frame of reference for it”. ( yeah, that last one is really specific but like- I was trying to talk??? about how betrayed I felt that my freaking mother was told by professionals I’m autistic NOT ONLY when I was a child, but again when I was a teenager seeing a therapist, and then told my EX BOYFRIEND before she finally told me- casually and in passing. And instead of focusing on the emotional issue I wanted to address, she focused on whether or not it was an ‘accurate diagnosis’ ).

Like I have all these problems and they affect me and how I function, but I didn’t learn what they were or how to address them or in some cases even that I had them until very recently, and I just want to acknowledge them, but if I try I’m just asking for attention or making excuses and I just don’t know what I can do about that but man that is almost a footnote in all this ugh.

And I’m sure this factors in somewhere but heck if I know where but like touch is something humans tend to need and wow I’m very touch-starved to the point I am now touch-repulsed and while the part of me that needs support is downright begging for someone to fucking hug me for like 3 hours is constantly battling the instinct to never let anyone near me ever because what if I’m too clinging what if it hurts what if it turns out it doesn’t help shit what if they take advantage of me what if they get weirded out what if what if what if

And then the final thing- and god I know this is choppy by now and I’m honestly scared of anyone who bothered to read this far cause heck, guess you know how to destroy me now, and also why- is that I am starting to wonder if there is a point to anything I do? Like obviously there is but-- I am a creature that thrives on acknowledgement more than most it feels like and I think that I am suffering a lack of just that has been made a little clear by now so I’m at that point where like- I just want someone to look at my work, really look at it and examine it and explore it and give me deep feedback and talk with me about it but nobody wants to fucking do that, as exemplified in almost all the above points and like if it’s not worth looking at in depth is it really worth looking at, at all?

Am I really worth looking at, at all?

#ooc #sky speaks #vent #negative #negative tw #depression tw #invasive thoughts tw #?#not actually sure that one belongs there but I think some of these classify as invasive thoughts #like i'm fine I'm not going to harm myself we good there I'm just- a lil lost and this is me tryna find a fucking map

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