#my mental health is reflected in my writing so I enjoy seeing how much better I'm doing now too.

[deepdarkdelights]

Predator (Jungkook x Reader) Part II - Prey

Pairing: Vampire Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Series: Predator Universe

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Vampire Jungkook, Obsession, Manipulation, Forced Relationships, Blood (So much of it), Fear (Copious amounts), Panic/Anxiety Attacks, Mind Games, Tormenting the MCs, Discussions about dead bodies, Jungkook and his unblinking stare, Self Injury (Non Mental Health Related), Forced Feeding, Isolation

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: The worst part was that you never tried to run. Jungkook never tied you down to anything or bound your wrists or feet. He simply knew that you would never try. It would be idiotic for you to try and run, you knew he was a talented tracker - he would be able to find you within minutes of your escape. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from him, he would always be able to find you.

A/N: I am alive! This was entirely inspired by an ask that was sent to me so the entire reason this exists is because of the wonderful anons who have asked be about what has happened since the end of Predator and who have asked to see what a more lucid Jungkook would look like. I haven't had this much fun writing in such a long time. I'm sorry it's so short, I hope you can forgive me 💜

READ PART I - PREDATOR

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It was dark and quiet, the only sound being the steady, slow, drip of water hitting the dusty floorboards and the harsh chatter of your teeth as they clashed together. 

You were freezing, your body trembling despite your best attempts to collect yourself. It was no use, no matter what you did you were never able to warm up anymore. You knew it wasn’t all that cold outside, but that didn’t really matter. Despite the chills that wracked your body there was a fine sheen of sweat that coated your skin.

You were unsure as to how much time had really passed since you had found yourself here. All of the days had begun to blend together like some horrible fever dream you simply couldn’t wake up from. The only constant in your life has become him. 

If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was trying to kill you. 

What was truly likely, was that this was a side effect of his treatment of you. It was very likely that he just didn’t know how to take care of a human. And despite your incessant pleading, he had told you that he would not kill you. So really, it was his own ineptitude that had you knocking on death’s door.

Your skin felt grimey, not entirely from lack of hygiene, but from the film of blood that coated your skin. It was all over you but it mostly dominated your cheeks, lips, throat, chest, and fingers. He was not violent when he claimed his feeds, but he was not necessarily gentle either. You hadn’t looked in a mirror for quite some time, but you were certain no amount of vampire blood would be able to seal your wounds with how often they were readily reopened.

This wasn’t a life, it was a slow and painful trek to the afterlife.

Your trembling increased as the front porch creaked, he was already back. Your head lolled backwards and hit the wall behind you in defeat. You couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t give him another part of yourself - this time you were certain that it would kill you. 

Every time he fed from you, there was a horrible, delightful, exhilarating rush that followed. Whatever it was that he was doing to you, it was forcing you to enjoy the very thing that was killing you. It was perverse. It was disgusting. It was addicting.

It was hard to hate him in the throes of ecstasy, there was this horrible thrill that came the second before his fangs pierced his limb of choice as you knew you would be rewarded with bliss in the moments that followed. It was easier to hate him when he wasn’t there, his lack of presence giving your mind the briefest of reprieves to remind yourself of the horrible situation you were truly in. 

The distance, however, didn’t seem to allow him the same clarity. If anything, it made him grow more needy, more irritated, and more clingy.

The door creaked open, and your time to yourself disappeared. Your body shook tenfold as his presence filled the room. He still looked the same as he did the first time you had come face to face with him. His clothes were worse for wear, even more blood stained and shredded than they had been before. There was a permanent coppery scent that surrounded him, the dried blood being the prime suspect. 

You were certain that you didn’t smell that much better. Although, to a vampire, you probably would smell all that more enticing.

His gaze was immediately drawn to you, your eyes locking with one another, bridging the fifteen foot gap between you. His eyes often fluctuated in vibrancy depending on how hungry he was. The days where they were near black were the most difficult for you, but today they were a bright crimson red. He had fed on someone, someone who luckily wasn’t you.

“Hello little mouse,” He greeted, his voice low and surprisingly soft, devoid of the almost manic tone you had been familiar with for the longest time. 

He began to close the distance between the two of you, his gait smooth as he approached you. The way he moved was unnaturally perfect, the silent power of a predator imbued in every muscle of his body.

He wordlessly dropped a bag in your lap as he sank down to the ground beside you, his wide, red, unblinking eyes staring at you, waiting for you to make a move. No matter how much time you have spent with him, his stare was still unnerving.

It took you longer than it should have to open it, your fingers trembling beyond your control. But Jungkook was patient, he has all of the time in the world to wait.

The scent of food hit your nose, your mouth watering and your stomach growling eagerly in response. From the color of his eyes and what he had brought you, you assumed he had decided to have his fill of a hiker instead of you. 

Jungkook didn’t know how to take care of a human, that much was obvious. He had, however, been keenly aware of how much blood he was draining from your body on a daily basis. You had become so weak, anything but sitting felt like a herculean task nowadays. And the lack of consistent meals was weighing heavy on your body.

You didn’t care that he was watching you eat, your mannerisms ravenous and most likely off putting. But you no longer complained when he took his fill of you, and for some reason he remained silent and returned that courtesy. 

You had noticed a shift in his behavior when that other vampire had found the two of you not that long ago. He knew Jungkook, from the way they spoke it appeared he knew him very well. This other vampire, despite how he appeared more human than Jungkook, frightened you just as much. You could tell from the curl of his smile to his confident gait that he was just as bad, if not worse, as Jungkook.

You had nearly fainted on the spot when he suggested the two of them share you, you were already tapped out as it was, Jungkook had fed on you that morning. The two of them, together, would kill you for sure.

To your surprise, Jungkook had not responded enthusiastically. He responded like an animal defending its territory - baring his fangs and growling in just barely contained rage. And that reaction had set off the other vampire and before you knew it they were a blur of limbs.

They moved so fast your human eyes could barely keep up with them. You were only able to focus when one of them threw the other giving you just enough time to watch them separate before they came back together again. The sound their bodies made when they clashed together was like thunder from what you could only assume was the pure force and strength they possessed. And, much like animals, they ripped and tore into one another with their teeth and nails.

By the time the two of them had finally separated for good, it was because of how much they had injured one another. The both of them were covered in wounds oozing black blood, some of which was their own, and some belonging to the other.

The other vampire, whom you had briefly heard Jungkook address as Hoseok, was tired but still enraged.

“Are you fucking serious? All of this for what, a pathetic little human?!” He yelled, his nostrils flaring in anger. “It’s food, Jungkook! I’m your brother!”

Your body flinched out of habit at the snarl that left Jungkook.

“With the rate that you’re going you’ll kill her anyways! Why does it even matter?!”

“She’s my human,” Jungkook replied, his voice low with warning.

“This isn’t even supposed to be about her! She’s nothing! Namjoon sent me to come and find you but you know what, I think I’ll let you deal with the consequences of your actions. It’s only a matter of time before he comes for you and when that happens, you're on your own!”

He disappeared quickly after that, it was like he was there one moment and then vanished the next. Once he was gone, Jungkook’s once sturdy stance softened, his shoulders bending forward from the strain of his own weight. He was hurt, badly.

He slowly turned to look at you, the red of his eyes and his dark mop of hair just visible over the curve of his shoulder. You knew that look, it usually didn’t end well for you. 

“No, no, no, Jungkook, please!” You whimpered, scrambling backwards.

But it was no use, he never listened to you anyways. He always took what he wanted, even when you had nothing left to give. 

He stumbled when he moved but he quickly regained his footing, his black blood stained hands grabbing you by the shins and pulling your retreating form towards him. You fought as hard as you could but you were already weak to begin with.

“Stop it, please!” You begged, but he didn’t listen. He wrapped his arms around you, his grip too tight and utterly uncomfortable. 

“Jungkook-”

“Shut up,” He grunted before yanking your head roughly to the side and sinking his teeth back into the scarred skin of your neck. The shriek that left you was borderline inhuman, the building scar tissue made the intrusion all the more painful and Jungkook was not gentle.

And he had already taken so much blood the day before. It wasn’t long before your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you went limp in his iron hold.

That was the first time that Jungkook had given you vampire blood. You had almost died that day, you had gotten so close to finally being free of him and still he wouldn’t let you go. Even death wasn’t a great enough adversary for him. 

When you had woken up after that attack, shocked that you managed to survive, you were met with those big, red, frightening eyes. The look on his face was the most serious you had ever seen it before, an odd clarity in his eyes that you were seeing for the first time.

He had been dreadfully quiet since then, speaking even less and shorter sentences than he normally did. You wouldn’t say he felt bad for what he did, but he had become increasingly aware of the inherent fragility that came with being human. He never apologized, but he had fed from you a lot less after that.

You froze mid bite as you felt his icy fingers graze your flesh, the coolness biting your skin and seeping into your veins. His touch was feather light, just barely there, but you went still beneath it anyways. You were incredibly aware of the strength that was concealed in that touch. He appeared unbothered by your response, his thumb smoothing over the curve of your jaw as he leaned in unbearably close.

You flinched at the feeling of cold metal being draped around your throat, his fingers clasping the material at the nape of your neck. It was a necklace. Your chest felt tighter, the food in your stomach quickly souring. 

He was doing it again. 

You were well aware of Jungkook’s strange and disturbing habit of taking mementos from his victims. His ears, wrists, neck, and practically every inch of his body were adorned with items he had stolen. You noticed he had an affinity for jewelry, but his jacket and boots had been taken from someone’s corpse as well. And, recently, he started bringing them back for you as well. 

Your bloody fingers were littered with several rings, a bracelet on your right wrist, and your ears decorated in earrings - some of which he had pierced himself. And now, the necklace.

It left your stomach in knots when he did this, you couldn’t help but think about the bodies abandoned in the woods that he had slaughtered every time the metal glinted back at you. Each piece felt like another shackle keeping you at his side. 

The worst part was that you never tried to run. Jungkook never tied you down to anything or bound your wrists or feet. He simply knew that you would never try. It would be idiotic for you to try and run, you knew he was a talented tracker - he would be able to find you within minutes of your escape. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from him, he would always be able to find you.

And so, you had become his plaything. His dinner and now his doll, a weak body that he could play with and decorate to his greatest desires whether that be with a corpse's jewelry, or a litany of scars.

“Pretty,” He said, his voice deceptively soft as he grazed the skin of your neck, his fingers moving from the clasp of the necklace to trace over the scarred imprints of his fangs and teeth.

You were thankful that he wasn’t hungry.

The odd, calm atmosphere between the two of you was quickly dissipating. Jungkook shifted away, agitation clear on his face as an annoyed growl parted his lips. You flinched back against the wall, scooting away to stay out of his path. 

This wasn’t unusual - he had been having rapid mood swings lately.

The few moments of peace the two of you would share were often interrupted by the sudden pained twist of his features - his eyebrows drawing together and his nose scrunching in a snarl. It almost looked like he was in physical pain despite there being no signs of any injury.

And then, the pacing would start. It was like watching a caged lion sweep the perimeter of their enclosure. Back and forth, slow and menacing steps. It was like he was looking for something, or trying to guard the two of you from someone else. You hadn’t dared to ask what he was doing, to be entirely honest you tried your best to avoid initiating any interaction or conversation with him at all. The few times you did speak to him, it was usually to beg for him to leave you alone, pleas that often fell on deaf ears. 

You didn’t know what to do with this. When you first “met” him, he had been sadistic, like a zealous child with more power than they knew what to do with. He had wanted to play his sick and twisted games with you and the plan had always been to gorge himself on your blood and leave your mangled corpse deep in the forest to wither and return to the earth. That was what was familiar to you, that was what you were expecting. 

You were never supposed to live, that had been an unfortunate circumstance, a split decision he made to prolong your torture and pain. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do with this suddenly quiet, confused, and barely human creature in front of you. One that would rip open your flesh to feed just as soon as he would leave bruising kisses on your lips and throat, painting the flesh a rich red that was left to rust.

You were waiting for him to snap, waiting for it to all finally be over. But that would be luck, luck that you didn’t have. He had promised you, so long ago, that you would never be alone again, that he would keep you. And you have suffered the consequences ever since.

When he said your name you felt your blood freeze over. He had never said your name before, you didn’t even know that he knew it. He had always called you that horrific pet name, his little mouse.

You wrapped your arms around your legs, pulling them into your chest in an attempt to feel some sense of security as he continued to speak. 

“We’re leaving soon.” He said, the words simple but the expression on his face ever so complex. Reluctance, frustration, pain, anxiety.  

You swallowed, but did not move. The silence was deafening. But, by the look on his face, you knew that he was waiting for your response. You would have to break the stalemate. 

“Are you…taking me home?” You dared to ask, your heart thundering in your chest as that predatory gleam returned to those red eyes. 

“No,” He growled, his jaw clenched as his fangs ground against his lower set of teeth, “You’re not going back there, ever.”

Your heart shattered. 

“I’m being called back to my home.”

His home? This was the first that you were hearing of it, you never stopped to ask yourself if he had a home. You couldn’t picture it even if you tried, it was a puzzle piece that simply didn’t fit. You had always assumed he was simply a nomadic creature that moved as he hunted. And, due to his supernatural nature, it seemed that he never needed the typical human necessities and comforts such as four walls and a roof. 

You knew he had some sort of family at the very least. You had, after all, had the displeasure of meeting Hoseok who had referred to himself as his brother. And he had mentioned the name Namjoon, the phrasing suggesting a hierarchical structure. But even the notion that he had a family felt just as mismatched. And how ironic it was that he was returning home to a family he didn’t even want, and he wouldn’t let you go home to the family that you missed so much. 

“And that’s bad?” You hesitantly asked, flinching as he growled in frustration. 

“It’s worse than bad!” He yelled, his hands sliding through his hair in stress, “It was difficult enough fending Hoseok off, but all six of them? You’re as good as dead.”

Hope.

“Then…don’t go?” You said, although it sounded more like a question. By the way he was acting, it was like returning was not a choice. 

“If only it were that easy,” He laughed, the sound bordering on being unhinged. “I can’t ignore it, if I’m called I have to answer. If I don’t it becomes more and more persistent. It feels like a cord that grows tighter and tighter until it pulls and my body moves on its own and takes me back.”

That explained the pacing, the restlessness his body had been experiencing. He had been trying to redirect it by walking the perimeter of the decrepit cottage but it had been a temporary fix to the problem. You could only assume that he was getting to the point now where his body was ready to return against his will. 

How horrible it was, to be someone’s unwilling puppet. You knew that feeling all too well. 

You didn’t know what you were supposed to tell him. There were no choices to be made by the two of you. He would have to return, and he wouldn’t leave you here on your own as he knew you would be given the greatest opportunity you have ever had to leave him. So, he would have to take you with him right into the lion’s den where you would undoubtedly be consumed.

He was mumbling to himself now, his pacing becoming more frantic and much faster, your human eyes struggling to keep track of him. You were sure that he was moving so fast he would wear down the old floorboards beneath him and the soles of his beat up boots.

You could only assume that meant the call was becoming even stronger. Before - it was asking, now it was commanding.

You had never seen him so frantic before, those wide blood red eyes unblinking and shifting back and forth faster and faster as his thoughts raced. It was borderline demonic, like something you would see during a paranormal movie or an exorcism. It was terrifying. 

You began to scoot back as far away as you could until your spine was flush with the wall behind you. You felt better with some part of you concealed from the open, but that did little to calm your racing heart and the creature that raged in front of you.

What was he so afraid of, so panicked by? You couldn’t imagine anything scaring him, not with how terrifying he was on his own. What could be so bad, so scary, that it frightened a monster? You weren't sure you wanted to find out, even if it meant you could finally feel the sweet embrace of death and escape him once and for all. 

Jungkook finally came to a stop, his body still but his eyes continued to move erratically. And then they too settled, and a look of deadly calm settled over them. He had decided something, and you were certain that whatever his decision was it wouldn’t be good for you. 

“They wouldn’t,” You heard him mutter to himself, “Not if I put a fail safe if place.”

A fail safe?

Before you could even blink he had moved across the room, faster than your eyes could track. Your body had been ripped away from the wall and set in between his legs, your spine pressed against his chest, the both of you seated on the ground.

An uncontrollable wail shook your body, the sound emanating a feeling of pure hopelessness. You had been surprised it came out of you, but you knew why. You were terrified he was going to feed from you again. 

His one arm was wrapped around your ribs, his legs tensed and forcing your own to squeeze together. He had immobilized you, there was nowhere else you could go and no way to escape him. 

Your entire body shook and heaved with hysterical breaths as you writhed in his grip. “Please, please don’t do it again I can’t take anymore of this!”

He hushed you, his free hand brushing over your hair in a surprisingly gentle manner. It was more like someone who was trying to calm a startled stray animal than anything else. His touch moved to your chin, lightly taking hold of the point where your neck and jaw bone met.

He didn’t say anything, instead he forced you to look at him, turning your face so that he could look directly into your eyes. And then, to your shock and horror, he plunged his fangs into his own wrist and ripped the flesh wide open. A torrent of thick, viscous, black blood rolled down the pale flesh of his forearm. And before you could do or say anything he grabbed you by your hair and jerked your head back before pressing his open wound to your mouth. 

You gagged at the smell and taste, tears blurring your vision as you tried to move your head away but he did not budge. His arm around your ribs finally moved but only to help him pry your jaw open and force the blood flow down your throat. He continued to hush you as he forced you to drink, gently rocking your body in stark contrast to the harsh and violent hold he had you in. 

“Just relax,” He whispered against the shell of your ear, “The more you struggle, the longer I’ll keep you here. We need to get as much of my blood as possible into your system.”

You were crying even harder now, the salt of your tears slipping between his wrist and your lips and mingling with his blood in your mouth. What had you ever done to deserve this? What horrible thing had you done in some past life to deserve this kind of punishment?

You just wanted to go home. You wanted your mom and dad, your grandparents, and the gentle comfort of your bed in your childhood room. You wanted that life back, and you were never going to have it again. 

His harsh grip on your jaw loosened as you went limp in his arms, resigning yourself to your inescapable fate. His hand returned to those soothing strokes against your hair, a low hum in his chest vibrating against your back as he watched you feed from him with a curious gaze. You were such a weak little thing, you needed him more than you would ever understand. 

You hiccupped pathetically when he finally removed his wrist from your mouth after what felt like hours. Your lips and chin were stained black from the blood he spilled when you had struggled. He stared at you again, curiosity evident in his gaze, as he leaned forward and licked the flesh of your lips, tasting his own blood.

You shivered as he made a soft hum, cocking his head to the side before doing it once more, stroking over the bitten and chapped skin with his tongue as he transitioned into kissing your battered lips in a grotesque act of intimacy. He laughed against your mouth as you weakly pushed against his chest, he was amused by your pathetic attempts to push him away. It only encouraged him to kiss you harder and deeper, sampling the taste of his own blood straight from your mouth. 

Once he was satisfied he finally allowed you to breathe, a devious gleam in his eyes that you had not seen in a long time. 

“They won’t be able to kill you for a while now, not unless they want another vampire to worry about.” He said. He was gloating, reveling in the win his family had no idea he had already achieved.

Your blood ran cold, your body freezing at his revelation. The very thing you craved, your own death and by association freedom from him, would be the very thing that would trap you with him for the rest of eternity. If you were killed with his blood in your system, you would become one of them. He truly had taken everything from you, even the dignity of your own death. Your life was his and his alone.

He really was a monster.

His features suddenly twisted in pain, his head jerking to the side as he released a low and threatening growl. The call was becoming even stronger, the most intense it had ever been. There was no more delaying it. They had to go, and they had to right now. 

He quickly lifted you into his arms as his body began to move on its own, forcing him to begin to move in the direction of his home. There was nothing more that you could do, all you could do was remain limp in his arms. It was over, there was point in fighting anymore.

He had finally broken you. 

When he stepped outside you were shocked by the fresh air and the cold weather. Then again, you always feel cold now. The clouds were thick today, the sun hidden behind their cover. It had been so long since you were outside, and even longer since you had been in the sun - that wouldn’t change in the near future. But what truly shocked you, was that the world went on without you. The seasons continued to change, the flora continued to flourish and then decay. The cycles continued while you were stored away. How cruel the world was to keep going on as you withered away. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder, shielding your face from the harsh wind as he began to move faster, running at his impossibly fast pace that no human could ever wish to match. How had so much changed? When did you go from human being to a play thing for a monster like him. You had a life, but now it had become inconsequential, toyed with and thrown away like it never even mattered.

What were you supposed to do now? At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter. He had won, he had played his sadistic stupid games with you, and he had won. He had broken you. You tucked your chin into your chest and like the pathetic creature that you were you whimpered.

You cared about what was going to happen next. If Jungkook had been wrong, then the two of you walking into the proverbial lion's den would end with you turning into one of them, a fate worse than any other that you could imagine. To be tied to him for all of eternity would be your personal hell on earth. 

What would they do to you when you got there? Would your death before your next life be slow and torturous, or quick and merciful? Would it be planned and intentional, or accidental? 

Jungkook began to slow, his fast pace relaxing into a natural walk. The tension that previously rested in his body had begun to dissipate. You could only speculate this was the relief of obeying the command to return home. His control over his own body was slowly but surely coming back to him the closer the two of you came to his home.

He stopped for a moment, placing you down on your own two feet before he took hold of your wrist and forced you to follow after him. Your knees wobbled beneath your weight, unaccustomed to you standing after being curled up in a ball in that abandoned shack for the longest time. You looked more like a baby fawn learning to walk than you did that meek little mouse Jungkook always thought you were. He, however, paid little attention to you at that moment. He was tense, his body in a state of alert as subtly surveyed the area as you continued on. 

He could sense something that your dull human senses weren’t entirely picking up on. However, the hair on the back of your neck prickled and your gut twisted as you felt phantom eyes digging into your body. 

Someone, somewhere, was watching you. 

A building began to break through the cluster of trees. A modern, contemporary house in the middle of the forest was coming into view. This was the last place you thought of when Jungkook had mentioned his home. In all honesty, you would have been less surprised by a crypt and a row of coffins.

In front of the house, stood a man. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, his eyes that familiar shade of deep burgundy, the same shade the monster’s eyes were when he was hungry. This sent chills throughout your body, your entire being sensing the danger in the vampire that stood across from you. 

Those burgundy eyes swept towards you, a look of shock and confusion discoloring their once calm gaze that you speculated was rarely rattled. His features twisted as he took in the state of you, the dried human and vampire blood that coated your body in thick layers, the dirt that was caked into your clothing, your hair that needed to be washed, and the smattering of scars that decorated your body and glistened in the cloudy daylight. 

You were barely human anymore, you were a walking corpse.

“You called me home, Namjoon.” Jungkook simply said, his body moving to shield you from the other vampire's gaze.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon said, utter disbelief tinging his words, “What are you doing to her?” 

In every possible scenario you had conjured in your mind, this had not been one of them.

Sympathy.

_______

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

why does it comfort some people or bring them joy/excitement to imagine their favorite characters in terrible situations and being hurt physically or mentally? wouldn’t you want your favorite characters to be happy and safe?

I’m sure I’ve seen this exact ask being sent to another writing blog before, so seeing one in my own inbox was a little surprising. but anyway, I’ve said this before, but I don’t mind saying it again because lots of people seem to still be confused about this; the enjoyment of imagining or seeing fictional characters in terrible situations in which they are hurt and/or scared is called whump. people who enjoy whump tend to express their interest through art, such as drawings, writings, etc. whump has a community on several online platforms, as well as here on Tumblr. we are simply known as “whump community”.

moving on to your question, “why does it comfort us to imagine our favorite characters in agony?” — there is no definitive answer to the question, because different people enjoy whump for various, different reasons, and all of these reasons are valid. however, what I can give you is some examples of the reasons why people enjoy whump

reasons why people like whump:

some people use whump as a reflection of what they’ve been through, and they let their trauma out by channeling the trauma through fictional characters. to make it as simple as I can, some people use whump as a coping mechanism to help them heal from any traumatic events in their lives.

while whump is indeed about pain, it can also be about the comfort (the healing process) that comes after the pain. I personally known several people who heal by writing whump stories in which their favorite characters went through and survived terrible things that happened to them. the comfort part of the whump was used as a symbol of hope for these people, in the sense that they hold on to the idea that if these fictional characters can survive horrible things that happened to them, they (the writers) can survive and heal too.

some people use whump as a way to let out their frustration, trauma or pain. an abuse victim may fantasize about hurting their abuser back by creating a fantasy world in which their favorite character was hurt, but later healed and/or get their revenge.

it’s also worth mentioning that one doesn’t have go through their own trauma in order to be able to enjoy whump. 

some people like whump where their favorite character is hurt because they just Want to Hurt These Little Guys. 

some people like whump where their favorite character is hurt because they like the part where their favorite character gets comforted and is nursed back to health after they are rescued.

whump that’s followed by comfort (whump with a happy ending) is valid.

whump that has no comfort (whump without a happy ending) is also valid.

because whump is a genre, just like how lots of people like horror movies just for the sake of liking them. 

the term whumperflies is used to describe the euphoric feeling a person experiences while watching, drawing, writing or reading a whump scenario that hits right in the feels. for lack of better comparison, some people experience whumperflies that come close to an orgasm, whether or not whump is a sexual thing to them (some may enjoy whump as a form of kink, while some may enjoy whump for reasons that aren’t sexual at all). for some, whumperflies are these tingling sensation in the chest and/or the stomach, for someone else, whumperflies is like when you ride a rollercoaster and the ride is going down from its highest stop. there's no wrong way to experience whumperflies, as different people describe and experience them differently.

so, yes, some people may enjoy whump just for the euphoria whumperflies bring. and some people — myself included — can’t get whumperflies unless the character that’s going through pain is their most favorite character; it’s like… because you love this character so much, you’re so connected to them, you're so emotionally invested in them that you can only get whumperflies if it’s them going through the torture, meanwhile other characters just don’t make you feel half as strongly.

and that’s explain why people in the whump community prefer their favorite characters to be the ones going through hell.

and again, just like how movies have different genres, whump is a genre — people who like whump aren’t “freaks” or “red flags” in real life, even if they like whump for reasons that aren’t about coping mechanism. whump is a genre and a form of art, and most importantly, whump is fiction. it’s not real.

I do understand why people who aren’t into whump tend to be confused by the concept of whump, and I do understand why these people think being a fan of a fictional character only means wanting said fictional character to be safe and happy, which is why whump is not for everybody, and that’s okay too.

the thing is there is no wrong way to be a fan of something that’s fictional, you can like this fictional character so much you want to see them cry and covered in blood for whatever reasons, and that’s okay. as long as you’re not hurting anybody in real life.

there’s nothing wrong or abnormal about people who enjoy whump, just like how there’s nothing wrong or abnormal about people who like horror movies. it’s fiction and it’s a form of art. and I believe everybody is allowed to express and enjoy their interests through art in whichever way they want, as long as they’re not harming anybody in real life.

[multifandomfanficss]

It’s About Time

Ed Nygma/The Riddler x Reader

Prompt: Ed offers to help you with time management when you tell him you’re stressed at work. Your conversation is interrupted by an attack on the GCPD by the Maniax.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, cannibalism, r*pists, abuse, and general graphic violence. Gotham typical violence. Mental health struggles. Sensory issues and meltdowns common with autism. Panic. Near death experiences. Claustrophobia. References to being buried alive. Nightmares.

A/N: I’m rewatching Gotham and I didn’t realize the missed potential for hurt/comfort the first time I watched this show 7 years ago. My work load has been really heavy lately, but this show broke me out of my writers block and I made time for the writing bug. This takes place in the middle of Ed’s Riddler arc. He hasn’t fully become the Riddler yet, but he has already made his first kill. The reader has qualities of an autistic person, but is not explicitly said to be autistic. I accidentally code a lot of my characters to be autistic because I am, but this was more intentional to reflect Ed’s autistic coding. Feel free to read into it or not! You don’t have to be autistic to read and hopefully enjoy this! Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

“I’ve been so stressed lately.” You sigh. “It’s like I can’t get anything done that I actually need to get done.” You stand in the hallway of the precinct talking to your friend Ed. You were stressing about this case and Jim Gordon was making you go through hundreds of old files for him. You were never part of the real action, but the horrifying crime scene photos and evidence you had to pull through everyday was taking a toll on you. Gordon’s time crunches never helped either. You understood that lives were often on the line, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“What can some people never get enough of and others say is too much? What has the ability to fly when having fun or is stuck completely frozen when you need it to move?” He smiles. You stare at him blankly. You had not been getting enough sleep. You loved hearing his riddles, but you were never the best at giving him the answers. It was so hard for your mind to keep track of it all. “Do you give up?” He asks.

“My brain just isn’t braining right now.” You laugh. “What’s the answer?”

“Time.” He beams, happy with himself. “You should try to implement a better time management plan. You look tired all the time. It’s like you’re not even sleeping.”

“Thanks, Ed.” You give a dry laugh.

“You know what I mean.” You nod in an agreement with him. “You might be the only person who usually knows what I mean.” He says, fiddling with his fingers and the buttons on his coat.

He was right. Nobody quite seemed to get him, but nobody quite seemed to get you either. You had always felt this odd draw to him that you could never quite explain. Truthfully you think you have feelings for him, but you always bury them. He saw you as a friend and he really needed a friend. Besides he had been pinning over Kristen since before you even got to the precinct. You had mixed feelings towards her. On one hand you felt bad for her. She was always getting mixed up with shitty boyfriends who treated her poorly, but on the other hand she had a mean streak. You never liked how she treated Ed. It was like he wasn’t a person with feelings to her and that made you so angry.

“You’re right. I haven’t been sleeping.” You tell him.

“Why is that?” He asks.

“We live in Gotham. With the terrifying shit we see everyday, I don’t know how anyone sleeps.”

“Are you having nightmares again?” He asks, his face painted with concern.

“It’s fine. It’s just work stress. It’s just this case. I’m fine.” You smile. It wasn’t a real smile. Your smiles always came so naturally around Ed that he knew something was off. He was about to press when you heard gunshots coming from down the hall. Your body immediately froze like a dear in headlights in the middle of the hallway.

You’ve had violent people in the precinct before and it always made you nervous, but this was different. The Maniax were on the loose and you knew they were too unhinged to care about survivors or bargains. With Jerome Valeska at the helm, along side cannibals, rapists, and murderers you were terrified. They’d escaped from Arkham days ago and already managed to murder dozens of people. This was far too close to the action for you, as you heard Jerome’s laugh bellowing down the hall from the bullpen; a laugh you remembered from one of your early cases at the precinct. You had felt bad for him and tried to help him when his mother died. You will never forget the laugh he let out when Jim realized he wasn’t as innocent as you’d thought. It ran a chill through your spine.

Everything started moving too fast when you realized you were being pulled down the hall quickly. Once you realized you were holding hands, you tightly grasped Ed’s hand, not wanting to be separated from him. He brings you further down the hall into the ME’s lab.

“W-where are we going?” You stutter. It’s like your mouth can’t keep up with your racing mind.

“Do you trust me?” He looks at you trying to stay calm.

“Ed, what are you doing?” You’re panicking. He can tell. It’s not hard to tell, as your hands fidget and your breathing is heavy. You’re trying to stay calm.

“(Y/N), I need you to trust me.” He places his hands on your shoulders in an effort to ground you with the pressure. You close your eyes and nod, hesitantly. You do trust him.

Ed runs to the cold lockers and opens one, checking to see if it’s empty. He finds a dead body inside. You cringe. Seeing bodies is rare for you and you’re still getting used to it.

“Oh dear… okay… second times the charm…” He mumbles to himself trying to find an empty locker. “Bingo!” He smiles, finding an empty one. The wheels start to turn in your head.

“No! I’m not getting in there!” Your panic increases. Ed shushes you.

“This is our best chance. I promise I’ll let you out as soon as I can.”

“We won’t be together?” Your eyes start to burn. You try to keep back tears. You’re shaking.

“We won’t both fit in the same one. I’m gonna go in the one above you-“

“No no please I- I don’t wanna be by myself! Please don’t leave me!” You cut him off and beg him. Ed awkwardly rubs his thumbs across your shoulders where he places his hands again, still trying to ground you. It’s awkward, but it’s still somewhat calming.

“I’m not leaving you. I would never leave you. I’ll be right next to you the whole time. I promise. I need you to trust me.” You’re not sure if it’s because it’s life or death, or if it’s because it’s Ed, but you reluctantly let him help your shaking body into the mortuary cabinet. When it comes time to let go of his hand and close the cabinet, you don’t want to. Despite quickly running out of time, he knows he needs to be patient. He knows how hard this is for you. He’s always known you’re a bit claustrophobic. He had no idea one of your worst fears was being buried alive. Being stuck in a cold locker wasn’t too far from either of those things. He can hear footsteps far down the hall. The Maniax were never subtle. He kisses the hand he’s holding quickly before closing your locker and climbing into his own. You were surprised by the kiss, but you couldn’t think about that right now and what it could have meant. Your mind couldn’t keep up. He had to leave his own locker unlocked, unable to properly close it from the inside, but he locked yours to make it look more convincing.

When Ed heard you cry, he began to whisper, hoping he could be loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough for the Maniax to not notice. “It’s okay, (Y/N). I’m still here.” It was enough to quiet your sobs. Tears silently streamed down your cheeks. Ed’s voice had a certain gentleness to it when he spoke to you. He was being especially gentle now. You had seen him angry, upset, anxious, energetic, but his calm voice was reserved for you. Even in this moment when he was admittedly not very calm, he was trying his best to mask his own fears to keep you safe.

You always reserved parts of yourself for each other; parts of yourselves that the other person enabled you to be. You were never as bold as you wanted to be, but when people were rude to Ed you stuck up for him. He brought out a more confident version of you. For Ed, he knew you struggled with staying calm when you were stressed, upset, anxious or scared, even when you were happy. All of your emotions were so big and you rarely knew how to contain them. He tried to stay calm because he knew you saw him as a calming person in your life. He liked being your hero when everyone else only saw him as a weak, odd, nuisance. He also liked that he could read you and that you were honest with him. He trusted you and it helped keep the voice in his head at bay. He didn’t have to question himself with you. He didn’t have to take advice from the voice in his head.

You tried to keep your meltdown as quiet as possible when you heard footsteps approach. They were heavy, not ones you recognized. You knew it had to be one of the Maniax, probably the cannibal. You tried to make your breath as quiet as possible. After what you assume was a poor sweep of the room, the man leaves.

After what seems like hours of being trapped in a corpse you finally hear sirens and then chatter. You hear Ed climb out of the locker above you. He opens your locker and you let out an audible sob.

“I think they’ve gone.” He says, pulling out the drawer to let your body get some much needed air. You start gasping and sobbing, shaking on the drawer of the mortuary cabinet. Your body jolts up. You just want to get away from the locker.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” Ed catches your body, as your start to fall from the drawer to the floor. You sit on the floor and cling to him, sobbing. At first awkward, he runs his hand along your back, trying to sooth you with the repetitive motion.

“I felt like I was dead- like- like I was gonna get buried alive-“ You gasp for air, sobbing between your words. Ed shushes you.

“We’re okay. They’re gone.” He promises.

You hear fast approaching footsteps. Your brain is moving too fast to decide if the footsteps are familiar or not. You just bury yourself further into Ed’s chest.

“Detective Gordon is here.” He informs you and you relax only slightly.

“Nygma, are they okay?” Jim asks.

“No mortal wounds, they’re just a bit shaken up.” He lets him know.

“You two should probably still get checked out. I need to finish scanning the building for everyone else. So far we’ve got 9 cops dead in the bullpen and… and the commissioner is dead.” He says. It’s almost like you hear Jim, but you don’t. Your mind can’t keep up with anything that’s happening.

After a while you find yourself sitting, waiting for Lee to check you out. Ed had been pulled away for a few minutes to do his job. He didn’t want to leave you, but you assured him you were fine. You didn’t feel fine, but you knew they needed him. As long as you could see him on the other side of the bullpen, you were reluctant, but okay with him stepping away. He left his jacket draped around your shoulders. It helped to be surround by his smell and warmth.

When it was time to go home, Ed guided you to his car. You hadn’t spoken much, but at least you’d finally stopped crying. The car ride was quiet. The only thing that filled the air was Ed’s occasional hum with the radio. Neither of you quite knew what to say. It was a bit ironic considering usually nobody could ever get you two to shut up. You didn’t speak up until he turned onto your street.

“I don’t want to go home.” You said quietly, feeling the panic rise again at the thought of being alone at home again.

“That’s understandable. Would you like to stay at my place?” He asks. You nod, silently. He flicks his turn signal and starts the drive to his place.

“Welcome to Château Nygma.” He smiles, turning on the light. You still have his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. Despite the terror you’ve been through today, his smile is refreshing. You don’t question how he can stay so seemingly sane in times like these, but you’re just glad somebody is. You need that. Maybe you should have questioned it, but you didn’t. He has a nice apartment. It’s not too big. Why would it be for a man who lived by himself? It’s just the right size with cool windows and a comfortable setup.

“Do you want something to eat? I’m a good cook.” He smiles. You don’t know how he can continue to smile, but you’re glad. It starts to make you feel safer. It’s nice to be in a locked apartment with just you and Ed. It’s nice to be in a quiet, secluded place, but not feel alone. It’s far better than sitting on your bed, scared of any serial killers that could be hiding underneath the frame and jumping at any people you hear in the stairwell of your apartment, with an open case file sitting next to you, worried the killers you’re reading about could be onto you any second. Today was a very close call. Too close.

“If you’re not sure, that’s okay too.” He continues, noticing you’re deep in thought.

“Oh…uh yeah… I’m not sure what I want… It’s like my body needs things, but I’m just a little bit too overwhelmed to figure it out.” You look down, shyly.

“Do you want to just sit? I can put on some music?” He questions referencing the record player with his hands.

“That sounds okay. I think I can do that.” You nod. He puts on some quiet music, not too loud to overstimulate you and you make your way to the couch. He brings you a glass of water.

“I can imagine it might be hard for you to have an appetite given your increased levels of adrenaline today, but you should at least drink this.” You take the water from him and begin to sip it. You didn’t realize how nice cold water could feel. You drink it quickly, before setting the glass down.

“Thank you.”

Ed sits down and you gravitate towards him.

“How do you do it?” You ask.

“How do I do what?” He looks for clarification.

“Your job. There’s so much death everywhere.”

“I don’t know. I just sort of do. Honestly I think it’s fascinating…” He pauses, looking away from you. “Sorry. That probably sounds weird.”

“It does, but that’s okay. I like the fact that you’re different and you’re honest. It’s comforting. You’re a better man than all of those crooked cops walking around beating up women and mobsters alike.”

“You think so?” He asks.

“Yeah, I do.” You smile. This time it’s a real smile. Ed smiles too. It’s nice to know after everything he’s done for you to make you comfortable, you can say something to make him feel better.

“I’m sorry all of this has been so awful for you.” He says.

“I know we’re doing good and it’s important to do good in a world of so much bad, but sometimes I just wish nobody had to do it. I can’t even fathom what would make somebody what kill another person. Maybe out of necessity, but it scares me that people actually enjoy it.”

“Yeah.” Ed shifts uncomfortably. You think he must agree with you and that’s why he’s unconformable. You don’t know that he killed Officer Doherty for abusing Kristen just over a month ago.

The two of you talk for quite some time until you end up falling asleep next to him on the couch. He doesn’t mind when you fall into his lap. He lets you sleep, smiling down at you. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to wake you. He was afraid of breathing too deeply and shifting too much underneath you. He eventually falls asleep sitting up with you still in his lap.

Everything is peaceful until you shoot up screaming, in a cold sweat. You’ve had another nightmare. This time is different. You’re disoriented. You don’t know where you are. You feel hands touching you.

“(Y/N), it’s me! It’s Ed! You had another nightmare.” You look at his face to see him distraught, unsure of what to do. Your tossing and turning had woken him up. He was awake only seconds before you.

Your eyes begin to well with tears. “I just want it to stop. When will all of this stop?” You cry.

“When will what stop?” He asks.

“Everything! I just want to stop feeling like this. I want to stop being afraid. I should be used to the job by now.”

“Maybe you just need more time to get used to it! I know we talked about time management earlier. I can help you with your schedule.” He offers.

“I don’t want to manage my time. I just want it to freeze. I just wish time would freeze so I could just breathe and catch up!”

Ed looks at you defeated. He doesn’t know what to say. He likes riddles because riddles always have answers. He doesn’t know what to do when there’s a problem with no solution.

“I’m sorry.” He settles with saying. “Would a hug help?” He’s just grasping at anything he’s seen people do when trying to comfort other people with problems and no solutions.

“Yes.” You say quietly, burying your head in his chest. Despite being the one to offer the hug, he’s a little awkward at first. He eventually settles in.

“Is this helping?” He asks.

“Yes.” You tell him. Of course, Ed being who he is, even now he’s still looking for a solution. He doesn’t realize he may be the solution, or at least someone to help make the problem smaller. “You always help.” You add.

“I’m sure most of our coworkers would disagree.” He laughs.

“I never thanked you for earlier today.” You say quietly.

“It was nothing.” He smiles.

“No, Ed. Keeping me safe in a life or death situation isn’t nothing.”

“I’m sure anyone would have done it.” He argues.

“No, they wouldn’t have.” You tell him.

“I’ll always protect you.” He pulls you closer, shifting awkwardly underneath you. “You know… my apartment is always open if you want to sleep with me- I- I mean sleep with me in attendance- I- I mean sleep with each other- I- I mean near each other- you know! In case you have nightmares!”

“I might just have to take you up on that. This is the first night I’ve felt okay enough to be able to maybe go back to sleep afterwards.” You smile, trying not to laugh. You don’t want him to think you’re making fun of him. Truthfully you think he’s sweet and funny.

“You should go back to sleep and since I didn’t get to make you dinner I’ll be making you the best breakfast of your life tomorrow.” He beams.

“You better.” You snuggle into him. Ed is too awkward to suggest you go lay in his bed tonight and you’re too tired to care. You spend the rest of the night on the couch together. You can save the bed for tomorrow night. You know when you wake up in the morning you’ll be coming back. It was the most sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.

Ed wakes up before you and sneaks off the couch to start breakfast. He truthfully was a very good cook. His own sensory issues with food made him very particular about how it’s prepared. You wake up to the smell of something good in the oven. Ed is nowhere to be seen, but you hear him in the bathroom. He’s talking. You knew he often talked to himself, but he sounded like he was talking to someone else. Maybe he was on the phone. You were sure you were hearing one half of a conversation.

“I told you we could trust them. They like me for me. They think I’m a good man.”

[wisecrackingeric-2]

LONG ASS MESSAGE UNDER CUT!!!!!!!!!!!! ITS A MASSIVE THANK YOU TO EVERYONE!!! I’ll tag everyone whose made a star for this drawing in the replies- if I’ve missed anyone or if you wanna be added, PLEASE LET KNOW!!!!!!!

At the time of writing this, there’s about 40 minutes let of 2023, and I’m VERY DETERMINED to get this posted before 2024 so I am in a bit of a rush so alas, this may not be as well-written as I’d like it to be but that’s the price I must pay alas HDNEHENEJDN

I wanna start this by saying I’ve always had a lot of anxieties surrounding the New Years, and things changing- even just seeing posts that were from the year prior always seems to give me anxiety. Things change, people move on, while I stay with the same interests- it’s always been something I’ve struggled with, but making this has helped me come to terms with all of that and I’m glad.

Theres no better words I can say right now other than; Thank You. Thank you so, so, SO much to my friends, both new and old- my friends who’ve been here since the very beginning and have stuck by me through this whole rollercoaster- and to all of my new friends, who it sometimes feels like I’ve known you all for at LEAST five years and not like, five months or something HDBWHNWUDNDHDJS thank you to everyone who has ever been kind to me, supported me and enjoyed what I’ve created- I’ve recieved probably the kindest words I’ve ever heard in my entire life this year. Thank you to the people who stuck by me when times got tough and helped me through my own seemingly very insignificant or silly problems HDNEJENSK

This year has easily been one of the best years of my life. 2022, to keep it short, was awful- I came out as a Transgender gay man to my parents and it went awful. I was dealing with the worst mental health of my entire life and there were times it felt like there was no hope. On top of all of that, my childhood dog passed away- so all and all, I wasn’t looking forward to the future. But my loving partner introduced me to Resident Evil, and as a result the community as a whole- and to say it changed my life would be an understatement.

I know it’s obviously no secret that I have a favourite character, Luis Serra Navarro- but to say his character has changed me as a person for the better would also be a MASSIVE understatement. I’ve never ever in my entire life resonated with a character so profoundly before- as a queer and trans man, I saw myself reflected in his performance, and that means more to me than words can even describe. His character encapsulated me in a way no other has done before, and genuinely helped me accept my autism, my queerness and my trans identity as a good thing- I could write absolutely ESSAYS on his character and I have. I’ve consumed more Don Quixote media than I think I ever would have otherwise HDNEHENEJD and to say I’ve genuinely become a more confident and happier person because of his character would, again, be SUCH an understatement. It’s truly hard to describe how much he means to me, but I hope my words give a good idea.

For the first time in a very, very long time, I get to look forward to my future. I don’t see my Queerness or my Trans identity as a setback anymore; I have things to look forward to, plans I’ve made and a future I can look towards. And I cannot thank my friends- all of you know who you are- André and Andrea and everyone in my life and this small little community I’ve unintentionally formed for giving me that opportunity. Words will never be able to describe how grateful I truly am, but I hope this is close enough.

Thank you for letting me fully indulge in my autism and enjoy Luis’ character to the fullest. I’ve never felt happier enjoying something in my entire life.

Thank you everyone. For everything. May you all successfully defeat your own windmills <3

[snaggletoothedbastard]

So I'm having thoughts about LOTR. Specifically the ending. And the fanfiction that rewrites the ending. Bear with me.

So we all know that LOTR ends with Frodo leaving Middle Earth and going to the Undying Lands, right. And we all know that he does this because all the events of the story have had such an impact on him that they've left him quite traumatised and not really able to live life the way he used to. And we can probably all guess that this is a reflection of how Tolkien may have thought about his trauma after fighting in the First World War.

The ending makes sense considering the time the book was written, because in the 1940's and 50's, people didn't know as much about mental health and disability as they do now, and there weren't as many ways to help people manage disabilities other than institutionalising them or like. Giving them cocaine or something idk. So it's reasonable to assume that because Tolkien didn't see many ways that people could live with disabilities and be happy, he couldn't write them into LOTR and instead basically just put Frodo in Middle Earth's equivalent of Heaven and said "there you go, you're all better now".

I like this as a sort of tragic ending. I mean, you can't deny that someone being so drastically changed by an experience means they can't enjoy the things they grew up with is pretty tragic. The ending does make sense. But I kind of hate it.

I don't think it was written badly or anything, and I'm not trying to dismiss Tolkien's experiences that influenced this ending. My issue with it is that, when you look at it through a modern lens, it has vaguely ableist connotations. Specifically the idea that disabled people (Frodo) can't live full lives and be happy in the real world (Middle Earth) and can therefore only be happy when they're "cured" or when they die and go to Heaven (the Undying Lands).

Now obviously LOTR is an old book and it's important to consider the time it was created when analysing it, as you would do with any other piece of classic literature. A lot of old books have some outdated language and concepts in them, simply because that was normal back then. And until very recently, we probably wouldn't have thought the ending of LOTR was in any way problematic. And it might not have been, because it's not really the fact that Tolkien wrote that ending that's an issue; it's the fact that the way the world worked back then made it near impossible to even think about any other ending.

Since the book was written, though, there have been a lot of advancements in science and research into disabilities, and there are now much more effective ways to treat and manage them. There's medication and therapy for physical and mental issues, and there are lots of accommodations that we can and should put in place to make life easier for everyone. Back in the 1940's, Tolkien wouldn't have had these things, and therefore didn't consider them to be options when writing about what happens to Frodo at the end of the story. But now, we do have them, and it's this progress that has discredited the idea that disabled people can't be happy in the real world, and subsequently made LOTR's ending seem outdated by today's standards.

Now this is where the fanfiction comes in.

LOTR readers these days, who are aware of the progress we've made as a society and the new ways people view and treat minorities, often write fanfiction that puts things into Tolkien's universe that wouldn't have otherwise been there because of when the books were written, from openly queer characters to characters living good, happy lives with disabilities. And I think this is a good thing and it's really nice to see, especially in regards to Frodo's disability. I like seeing people work out how he might accommodate himself in the world of Middle Earth, and how the other characters would help him with that. I like that sometimes people have to get creative when figuring out how he would cope with trauma and chronic pain, because obviously Middle Earth doesn't have a lot of the things we have in the real world.

I like that we can finally give Frodo a chance to recover in a more realistic way than just sending him to the afterlife. I like that we can finally allow him to live.

A lot of Tolkien purists complain about new adaptations and fanfiction because "it's not what Tolkien wrote so he wouldn't like it". First of all, why do we still care about the opinions of a man who's been dead for over fifty years? What are you going to do, summon his ghost to haunt all the fanfic writers? Hold a seance to find out exactly what he thinks? Good luck with that.

Second of all, I honestly believe this is something he would approve of. He went on living after the First World War, but he didn't get to live with the disability accommodations we have today. And because he didn't, neither did Frodo. We can't give Tolkien the life many disabled people have now, but we can give it to his tragic hero. We can make his story a little less tragic. And if Tolkien was here now, of all the tropes we're using in LOTR fanfiction, it wouldn't surprise me if "Frodo stays in the Shire" is one he could get behind.

[heartsandstars46]

Half a world away

Under the Silver Lake!Sam x fem!OC

Angst, fluff, humor

CW: Deteriorating mental health, paranoia, cursing, mentions of guns and sex, allusions to danger and violence 

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I had so much fun writing this?? I really wanted to explore how Sam might interact with a female character who had an actual name (!!), overlapping interests, and wasn’t just a sexualized object. Even if you haven’t seen Under the Silver Lake (and it is super weird, as reflected below), I think you might still enjoy the fluffy comfort aspects, humor, and ‘90s references. 🩷

Emily, a neighbor in the apartment complex, tries to connect with Sam as he becomes increasingly paranoid. Takes place during the events of UTSL.

I was standing on the balcony when I saw Sam go running through the courtyard in that gawky way he had. I still wasn’t sure what to make of him. My one friend in the complex had described him as a “harmless stoner weirdo,” but aside from some mix-ups with the mail, I hadn’t interacted with him much. He was cute, I guess, but definitely weird—and kind of jittery, especially lately. And watching him now, he looked terrified. I didn’t know why I was drawn to him—bird with a broken wing syndrome? That was usually what got me into trouble.

Since I had some of his mail anyway, I decided to just drop by and see what his deal was. I mean, it’s not like I had anything better to do. I didn’t have any “friends” yet in LA.

When I knocked on Sam’s apartment door, the response was a high-pitched yelp. Shit, was he hurt or something?

“Sam?” I called tentatively through the door. I knocked again. “Sam, it’s Emily, the girl whose mailbox is above yours? I’ve got a few more things for you.”

A brown eye appeared at the peephole in the door.

“Oh right, you.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Yeah, me. Sorry to disappoint.” On the plus side, the sooner he started annoying me, the sooner I could lose interest in him. Win-win. “Do you want your mail or not?”

I could hear him undoing multiple latches and locks and then he opened the door about a foot. “Yeah, thanks,” he said, breathlessly glancing over his shoulder. His face was paler than usual and his hair all disheveled. 

“Are you okay?” I then remembered the time I’d passed his apartment while he was, ah, very audibly entertaining some female company. Oh god, did he have a girl here now?

“Huh? What?” He asked.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Maybe. I don’t know.”

He looked over his shoulder again. Okay, he had to have a girl here. That was my cue.

“Cool, okay, well, see ya around.”

“No, wait!”

I turned back, surprised at the urgency in his voice. His eyes were darting around, and he was visibly sweating. I sighed, annoyed by a new realization. “Dude, are you high?”

“I fucking wish,” he muttered. “No, I just…” His voice dropped to even more of a whisper. “I think I’m being followed.”

“Ooookay. By who? Have you called the cops?”

“Why? They’re probably in on it!” He went wide-eyed. “And if they come here, what if they try to evict me again?”

Was he having some sort of mental breakdown?

“And they can’t know I have this now,” he whispered, pulling a gun from his waistband with shaky hands. Instinctively, I jumped back—nearly out of my body. 

“Jesus Christ, man!”

He looked at me with his wild eyes. “Emily. Emily, right? Emily, it’s all so fucked up.”

My ability to get involved in this crazy-ass shit? Yeah, it was fucked-up, all right.

“Sam, is anyone here with you?” I.E. what would the body count be if I couldn’t get this gun off him? Now I was sweating.

“No, no one’s here.”

“Okay, then can I come in?”

“No, no, the people following me, they’ll hurt you too.”

At the moment, I was more worried about him accidentally hurting me—or himself.

“I’ll take my chances,” I said, nudging him back into his apartment and closing the door behind me. “Can I see this?” Who in their right mind would give this dude a gun?

“My friend went missing, and I’m trying to find her, and everything’s fucking crazy! Nothing is what you think it is, Emily.” He leveled me with a look. “Nothing.”

“I believe you. Let me just…” I gingerly pried his fingers off the gun. “There we go, okay.”

“But I need that,” he whispered, his eyes terrified. “What if they find me?”

“Look,” I said, holding up the gun then putting it out of reach, my heart pounding. “It’s still here, but I don’t think either of us should be holding a loaded gun.”

“Oh, I don’t know if it’s loaded.”

“WHAT?” All diplomacy was out the window now. I glared at him. He started stammering.

“I mean, it might be, I just don’t know, I didn’t load it, and when I shot that other guy—“ 

“Whoa, whoa, stop talking!”

Sam looked hurt. “I’m sorry if I’m freaking you out—“

“No, I mean, stop talking because, plausible deniability, okay?”

“Oh. Yeah, good call.” He waved a finger at me. “You’re smart. Maybe you can help.”

“Sure, yeah, maybe. Can we sit down? Maybe in the living room.” Maybe further from the gun? “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Yeah, yeah, in a sec.” 

I moved out of the way so he could redo all the locks and latches on his door. As he did that, my phone started ringing in my back pocket. Sam watched me intently as I pulled it out and took a look at the screen.

“Oh, it’s just my mom. I’ll call her back.”

“Wait, no, don’t stop it—I know that song. It’s… from a Nintendo game?” He somehow sounded both sure and uncertain at the same time.

I felt myself almost smile. “Oh, yeah. It is.” My ringtone ended, and I slid my phone back into my pocket.

“Super Nintendo?

“Indeed. Super Mario World.”

“Huh. Wait, are you into all that shit?”

“Uh, yeah. I grew up on all that shit. I used to destroy all the neighborhood boys at Mario Kart.”

“Ha!” He looked positively delighted. “Which one?”

“Super Nintendo first, obviously, then 64.” 

Well, this was proving to be a fruitful topic. I wondered if maybe he was unmedicated or sleep deprived, and not actually being followed.

“You know, I don’t know that I’ve ever played a girl at Mario Kart. The girls I grew up with were into, like, Barbies and shit.” He lit a cigarette and sat down on the couch. I took that as my invitation to sit too.

“Well, I was into Barbies too. I mean, come on! It was the ‘90s.”

He smiled fondly. “Yeah. We were all better off back then. Just playing video games and running around the neighborhood…..” His expression darkened. “Can’t do that anymore.” He offered me his cigarette. I waved him off.

“What do you mean? I see you’ve got your NES hooked up right over there.”

“No, I mean, if I go out, they try to kill me. If I stay home, they sneak in and try to kill me.”

I was really hoping there wasn’t actual truth to anything he was saying. I’d been trying to maintain a neutral facial expression, but it must have cracked, because he began stammering again.

“Sorry, you don’t have to stay here, it’s probably too dangerous.” 

“Well, full disclosure, I’m really here because I saw you run across the courtyard, and you didn’t look good. Sam, when was the last time you ate? Or slept?”

“There’s no time for that. My friend is missing.”

“You sound like a good friend, Sam. But even good friends deserve to eat and sleep.”

“She might be dead,” he whispered, and my heart nearly stopped. “She just… vanished. One night, we were watching movies, and the next day, she was gone.”

“Maybe she had to beat the rent or something,” I said hopefully. “Does that sound like something she’d do? You must know her pretty well.”

“No, I met her that night—the night we watched movies.”

Wait, what? Was the truth just that bizarre or was he in an actual state of delirium? I glanced around his living room for anything that might distract him—get him back to the calmer state he’d been in talking about Nintendo games. My eyes landed on a pile of magazines on the floor by his TV.

“Stop. You have your old Nintendo Powers?”

“Yeah?” he said, looking confused.

“Can I look at them? See which ones you have?”

“Yeah, sure. Wait, you know Nintendo Power?”

“Uh, yeah!” I knelt down beside the pile on the floor. “I was a subscriber myself. Oh my gosh, look, Nintendo 64 was just coming out. Wow.” I moved slowly through the magazines. “Ocarina of Time! Ah! Love of my life!” I hugged that issue briefly to my chest. “Dude, I remember some of these, like, legit! These covers are unlocking 20-year-old memories. Ah! This was one of my favorites! It had a walkthrough for Harvest Moon, and it sounded like just the best game ever, so I asked for it for my birthday.”

When I turned around, Sam was smiling wearily. He was obviously exhausted, which I took as a good sign.

“Harvest Moon, really?”

“What, were you all about GoldenEye and first-person shooters?” With unease, I remembered the gun in the kitchen.

For some reason, though, he laughed. 

“What?”

“Sorry, this is just not a conversation I’ve ever had with a girl in my apartment.”

I glanced away, feeling my cheeks flush with childlike embarrassment. “No, it doesn’t sound like you do a lot of talking when you have girls in your apartment…”

“Uhh, how would you know?” He seemed more amused than anything. 

I sighed. “One day, I was passing by, and you obviously had company. Loud company.”

“Fuck,” he said softly.

“On the bright side, with how thin these walls are, someone will definitely hear if you get murdered!” Okay, pump the brakes on the defense mechanisms, girl. “Sorry, disregard! You’re gonna be just fine, and I’m gonna stop talking now!” I awkwardly went back to flipping through Nintendo Power and we sat in silence for a few minutes. I really hoped he wasn’t dwelling on the whole “murder” thing.

“Hey, Emily. You know REM?”

I looked up at him. “Like, the group?” 

He nodded. 

“Of course?”

“No, it’s just that I was out with this girl the other night, and she didn’t know ‘What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?’”

“Weird.”

“Yeah, she was probably born in the ‘90s or something.”

“Ugh,” I shuddered. “We just hired a girl at work who was born in 1991.” Sam recoiled in disgust. “I know. Same.”

“1991 before or after REM was on SNL?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. What a way to mark time! “Um… after. REM must have been on SNL in early ’91, and this girl was born in the summer.”

He was watching me, a smile forming. “They were on SNL in April. How did you figure that out?”

I laughed bashfully, staring at my hands, fiddling with my rings. “Because I would have been in first grade then, and I remember walking around my first grade classroom singing ‘Shiny Happy People.’ That was my jam. Dare I say ‘obsession’? And my mom had taped their SNL performance, so I watched it religiously.”

“No way! Fuck! I have a VCR,” he said, pointing across the room. “Do you have the tape?”

“No, not with me,” I said, laughing. “Believe it or not, I didn’t think to pack it when I moved across the country. But you could probably find the performance on YouTube.”

He scoffed. “That’s not the same.”

“Yeah, I know, I love tracking too, it’s the best.” I rolled my eyes, just openly teasing him at this point.

But he laughed! “Oh my god. Do you know how nice it is to be with someone who isn’t asking about bullshit like work, making me feel ancient, or trying to hurt me?”

I just stared at him. “Who are you friends with, dude?”

We both started laughing.

“You might be better off going it alone.” I didn’t realize what I’d walked into at first, but then he grinned at me and started to sing, softly, timidly, and I joined in:

“’Go it alone

Hold it along

Haul it along

And hold it….’”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “everything feels half a world away these days.”

I hesitated, then lightly nudged his hand with my knee. “But not everything is.”

He smiled. “You really came down here because I seemed freaked out?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s very cool of you.”

I just shrugged, blushing. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep? And I’ll… read to you about Harvest Moon.” I waved that issue in the air. “That should put you right to sleep, huh? A farming game walkthrough? Bor-ring!”

He smiled. “Okay, fine. I am pretty tired.” He sighed as he laid down on the couch.

While I flipped through to the right part of the magazine, he caught my hand. “Hey,” he said softly. “Why are you being so nice to me? Why don’t you think I’m crazy?”

I considered that. “Well, because there are people in my life who didn’t treat me like I was crazy when I was going through stuff and probably seemed fucking nuts.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. Here.” I handed him a throw pillow from the floor, and he put it behind his head. “Okay, you ready?" I cleared my throat. "’You just bought the farm and now you have two and a half years to live off the fat of the land. Harvest Moon is Natsume’s farm fresh hybrid between a simulation and a role-playing game. The object of this game is to turn around a run-down farm and find happiness before your parents return.’”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, really,” Sam murmured, his eyes starting to close. “Living in the middle of nowhere and finding happiness?”

“Yeah, it really doesn’t.” 

[books-with-jules]

I NEVER PROMISED YOU A ROSE GARDEN

by Joanne Greenberg

Psychology, Dark, Emotional, Slow-Paced

★★★★★(4.75)

i never promised you a rose garden is a slow-paced, semi autobiographical novel in which Greenberg gives her readers insight into the schizophrenic mind of teenage girl, Deborah Blau in approximately 1948 to 1951, written originally in 1964. Many describe the story as Deborah's three-year battle with schizophrenia, but it really is specifically the confrontation with her inner world, understanding its roots, and understanding that there is a world beyond that she can be a more present part of. She has battled for much longer than three years, but this book is watching her regressions and recoveries as she understands herself and her place.

The writing style and vocabulary used was eloquent and college-level, and painted a vast outer and inner setting, which was very important as the character's state of mind and mental space is an important part of understanding the plot. The plot is realistic in terms of the non-linear road to mental "unsick" and health. The story is character driven and, in tandem with the plot, of course, complex and rocky. I love the psychiatrist, Furii, and I thoroughly enjoyed Miss Carol's appearances throughout the story, and there are no characters who I feel could have been developed better. Everything felt well done and tied together very well. The ending was perfect; I only wish we got to see a little of Deborah's family relationship dynamics and how they change with her resolution.

Reading a novel about a teenage girl with schizophrenia and getting to see some of the inner workings from an author who has experience with the illness as someone who lives with it is unique to read because a lot of time the portrayal is based on second hand experience and, like autism, may reflect all of the negatively viewed traits, rather than show every aspect objectively. My own personal quarrel with the mental illness part is as an unlicensed, book-educated reader, it seems as if Deborah is actually suffering from a delusional disorder of sorts, not of schizophrenia specifically, but the book was written in 1964, and as I've said, I am not a licensed professional and cannot give official input.

The writing style gives a feel like the author learned or mostly communicated in English in college-level or professional settings and, likewise, used complex language that made reading a bit tricky to navigate and retain at first, but I learned many new words, so that's a plus. The writing flowed smoothly and the way Greenberg described everything felt prose-y in some places and poetic in others. Her descriptions made for intricate visualizations and much empathy with all the emotion with her language.

The plot is very much character-driven, being that we are following Deborah's road to mental stability. I appreciate her struggle to come to terms with many of her beliefs that she came to understand were characteristic of the inner reality she's lived for so long and breaking away to find her footing in reality as someone without strong delusions understands it. She gets better and she gets worse. She moves on from being a slave to her own mind and creations to taking more control and also asking for help when she feels she is losing it. We see her regressions and her recoveries, and there is more than one hill to climb because progress is never linear, not in the real world. The plot is beautiful and terrible. It is a great, intense read.

I've never been in a mental hospital or rehabilitation center, so I don't personally know of the customs, but Greenberg does a beautiful job of explaining and reiterating the social norms of the wards, what behavior is "allowed", not "allowed", How different life seems in the wards and what life in the "real world" looks like from inside those doors. I can understand the mental aspect of life looking different for everyone else versus the patients, who see hope for it as useless, who don't understand that it has its ups and downs, and who see returning patients as sort of failures. Bouncing between wards is different from being out in the world and hospitalization, but "B" wards are a bit afraid of patients who make it back down from "D" ward. As I said, I don't know from experience, but reading this work really put me in there and made me understand exactly what it was like at that time. I don't know if there is a better book to help someone comprehend inpatient in midcentury USA, the turning point of psychology there.

I have a deep appreciation for Furii, Deborah's psychiatrist, for her depression understanding of how to navigate the sessions, work around Deborah's episodes and temperaments, which can make talk sessions very hard with her mind sometimes clouding or outright blocking her from talking about her made-up world and all its secrets. However, Furii, as long as both she and Deborah both felt like Deborah was not a lost cause and wanted to get better, Furii is determined to help Deborah work through all of her symptoms and find healthy coping mechanisms to replace them. The relationship is beautiful, well-meaning.

I think my favorite character is Miss Carol. She is described to be an old, white-haired, 90 pound woman who can launch mattresses during her episodes. She's an accomplished woman, a mathematician of sorts, I believe, and a returning patient. There are a few examples of returning patients and their places in life outside of the hospital. These examples serve as eventual realities that Deborah faces of having mental illness and understanding that progress isn't linear (this is a favorite theme of mine in this book and in life). There is also Doris Rivera, who we are not told how she makes a living or what her life looks like. We, the readers and the characters, only know that she was the goal and envy of the ward, and her returning brought a doubt to the ward about getting better and being part of society because of the expectation that you get better and you stay better. Deborah then makes a friend, Carla, who is a returning patient and, after becoming an outpatient and a returning patient, herself, understands the struggle of conforming and keeping up with life, stresses, and other regular, recurring issues in everyday life.

There was this understanding of not asking people why they are there, not asking returning patients why they had to come back, and not having prying conversations without the other being explicitly willing to give this information. Life is an experience that cannot always be conveyed in words. It was more like they had to live it to understand why they were returning. Again, progress isn't linear and while the patients probably understood this, or at least some of them who have went back and forth from the wards, within the confines of the hospital, life also works in this way and they could not ask, and the patients would not have the words to answer at that time.

All in all, i never promised you a rose garden, by Joanne Greenberg, was a beautiful piece of literature and I am glad to have read it. The theme of healing and regression really urges the reader to take a look at themselves and do some inner work of their own. I know I had to do some inner work along with this reading, and am grateful for it. The ending was not wrapped in a bow, happy, and satisfying as a "happily ever after" story, but an intense and reflective read as someone who struggles with their own symptoms and disorders. The only reason this novel got 4.75 stars and not five is because there was a lull where I was not compelled to pick up the book about four or five chapters away from the end, but that is a personal feeling and should not truly reflect upon the author.

[littlealeta]

Why the cheesy pre 2010s stuff were much better than the stuff after

So lately, I've been kinda peeping in on old black shows from the 90s and 2000s like The Parkers and One-on-One and I was wondering, "Okay, I don't usually like normal slice of life type of stuff so what is pulling me into these shows?" And I've also been thinking about a lot of my guilty pleasures from when I was a child that I used to watch over and over again that people aren't too fond of, wondering why I still like them now, even with some of their flaws, is it because of nostalgia?

Well, I just saw the film IF and it made me think of many of the family films I watched in the 2010s and 2020s that were just bland and generic. But, they're kids films, so is it the films or are we just too old for them? I mean Sharkboy and Lavagirl and Ralph Breaks the Internet are good films for kids but not so much for adults.

And how the hell is a slice of life like Full House more entertaining than IF an imaginative fantasy?

Well, thinking deeply into my review for IF and the film Wish and many of the recent Disney films, the Pixar movies from the 2010s and whether or not kids would enjoy them, I think I'm starting to see a pattern. The thing that differentiates kids movies today from the kids movies from yesterday (I'm talking like the Rugrats films, All Dogs go to Heaven, Zathura, even a few of the Disney films) are the appeal.

Sure maybe some of us think that they're cheesy and corny and probably even more so back then but here's the thing you can't deny. They were actually entertaining. The characters had lots of personality, they were actually funny, and the most important thing, they had an engaging story. They didn't take like 30 minutes to get going, they put you into the plot either immediately or on the right beat like 15-20 minutes. And before they start, they actually introduce those characters as actually interesting characters, with personality and humor.

The stuff we have now compared to that? I personally find much worse. And I don't see how kids could enjoy them. I mean, none of the kids in my theater for Wish seemed to care for it. The humor is cringy, either it's dumbed down or full of potty humor. The characters lack charm. The actors don't seem like they're putting much effort. The writing is just straight-up generic with like little-to-no twist or personality to make it engaging. Like sure, Full House might've been generic (even the Nostalgia Critic points that out) but every character had their own personality. Danny was a neat freak, Joey was a cartoon fanatic, Jesse was edgy, DJ was rational, Stephanie was sassy, and Michelle was a spoiled brat. And they all played off of each other humorously while also contributing to some zany and sometimes relatable conflict. And say what you want about Mary-Kate and Ashley as actors, but they always seemed like they were having fun with the movies they were making.

Another thing that interests us when we watch these older stuff is that they are a product of their time. A reflection of what the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, and 2000s were like. A different and simpler time without technology, when there was no mental health crisis, and the children respected their parents more. Nowadays, we want to watch and escape into something new that's not too close to our lives and while that may have also been the case for audiences back then (and maybe future audiences will look back on 2010s/2020s stuff and write reviews on how they're not that bad either), since we didn't have as much to do as we do now, I think audiences were a bit more forgiving of something slower and unoriginal and especially wholesome. There were a lot of wholesome shows that taught good things back then. And I understand that maybe some people don't want messages shoved into their face nowadays, but I personally believe there is a good place for that, especially in media aimed toward those in their formative years. And not just for them, but we adults can learn from those too. After all, none of us are all-knowing Gods.

Kids aren't going to watch and read meandering crap. Especially not nowadays I'm pretty sure. Life isn't like when I was a kid and all we had were TV, DVDs, and non-online video games. Like if you don't engage a kid in like 5 minutes, they're going to go back to playing Fortnite and Candy Crush.

When I'm watching a movie or reading a book, especially for children, this is just me, but I want to watch something with a decent pace, creativity and personality and humor.

I'm glad we're starting to see a new growing appreciation for those older corny, cheesy stuff, maybe partly due to nostalgia but also looking at them myself, they're really not that bad and there was a reason we watched them over and over again as kids.

[dreambunnynotes]

daily reflection: nov. 26th ❤︎

today was a really, really good day in terms of getting things done and feeling positively about myself! my mental health really improved once i figured out my direction for the week, so that's good for me to know for the future. anyway, here is my reflection on the day:

accomplishments:

i did my whole morning routine and felt so great about it! checking off a to-do list first thing in the morning really gives me the structure i need to feel safe and motivated, i really love it so far.

i had an amazing guitar lesson; we came up with a fantastic plan for a long-term guitar project and i am so thrilled to be motivated again! my teacher is everything i had hoped for when searching for someone to work with and i couldn't have asked for a more empathetic and knowledgeable person to learn from 😭 they also seemed genuinely excited and interested in the project idea which made me feel so much better about suggesting such a lofty goal.

i spent a long time practicing guitar today after my lesson, and also arranged a whole song on piano which was SO fun! it wasn't even challenging for me to chart out the sheet music which used to be my biggest weakness. it was nice to see how much i've improved!

i ordered all of my mum's christmas presents for my dad (he's not the best with computers so i helped lol) and it was so satisfying! i also figured out what i'm going to make her for christmas and plan on getting all of the materials this week.

i joined a discord server for fanfic writers from my favourite fandom, and i'm so proud of myself for trying something new to make friends and also to inspire my writing!

even though i got to bed late, i still did my evening skincare and proved to myself that i can follow through on my goals!

things to improve:

i am really struggling to get to bed at a good hour, oof. even when i complete all of my evening tasks as early as 8:30pm i still end up staying up until 12:00am or later, mindlessly seeking dopamine. i need to figure out how to trick my brain into enjoying the wind-down / sleep process, so tomorrow i might make a "romanticizing bedtime" list to help myself out.

i think it would really help me to finish up my dream life and waiting room scripts, since i've also been majorly slacking on those. i'll make it a goal this week to finally finish those up.

have a great sleep and take care everyone, excited to report back tomorrow and hope you're taking good care of your lovely self! ❤

[archivalofsins]

So I spent the day out with my father dragging him to two movies in a row. Which leads me into this-

It will always be funny to me when English speaking specifically comic fans that are into Milgram discuss how mental health is portrayed in Milgram. Especially how it's lacking because the understanding of mental health in the east is lacking something that is reflected when it comes to media.

Like buddy the person writing this actually studied psychology this is actually pretty decent when it comes to that and written with care.

Not even touching on how that's just kind of a self-report. Saying that to me is pretty much announcing that some may not read many things from other areas or not wander out of their comfort zone much. Even when it comes to the thing they're saying is better. Because western comics is a big frontier with many canons.

Well, why are you bringing up this old thing now- Honestly because the funniest thing just happened and I think some people may enjoy pointing and laughing. Deservedly so at western comics and the media depiction of mental health. That is so far and leagues above everywhere else.

Meaning it would never touch on any similar points to Milgram ever. Because it's so much more advanced. So last week a new Harley Quinn graphic novel came out and the new Joker movie released-

Guess what these two things talk about~

This week alone I've read,

A new Young Adult graphic novel inspired by The Strange Case of Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde that reimagines Harley Quinn's origin story and struggles with dissociative tendencies which to my knowledge (I'm not a walking dc canon encyclopedia) has only been implied and not expressly stated as due to drug experimentation. It has all the symptoms of the thing that shall not be named in western comics but since it's a western graphic novel just like with Elle(s) it can't be stated it's that.

So, it's due to a research experiment and treated as just a side-effect the same drug experimentation group that gives Pamela Isley (poison Ivy) plant powers by the way. They both were given different drugs I need to state that. It's not that absurd and it is a fun read.

Just to then go- Ya know; I've heard the new Joker movie is trash without really getting anything more than that. Mostly it's been why did they use Harley in this way. They should've just made that character Punchline. Which let's be real we all know why name recognition who the fuck knows Punchline for real- for real?

Any of you seen this woman the jokers new partner in crime?

Anybody know who this is outside of the fact she hates Harley Quinn. Because the only time I've seen her online is in contrast to Harley. Like I'm sorry yeah she has Punchlines story in this I can see that with as little as I know about this woman. But like it's not about Harley (Lee as she goes by briefly in this) it's about Joker (who isn't even anything much like the canonical joker already). So it'd be more accurate to say it's about Arthur Fleck and iteration of the joker.

But like it would have been great if this was Punchline would have been a amazing way to introduce her to the live action dc universe but they didn't do that. Because they wanted to make money of the name recognition well not entirely they also wanted to flip the script and highlight another reason this relationship would have never worked. Like the only thing that movie showed me was that Harley and the Joker should never be together.

This isn't portrayed as relationship goals it's abusive, unhealthy, and to an extent something done as both of their last resorts for separate reasons and founded on lies. It just puts Harley into the manipulator role which I can understand people taking offense to given the history of Harley's character.

Yet before I saw it. I was just curious. I was curious about what made this pretty quickly despised. So, I wanted to go see it for myself. Just to find out during the first five minutes it's about Arthur Fleck (Joker) having dissociative identity disorder. This is stated at first ambiguously through the Warner Brother's cartoon at the start of the film and then blatantly for the court case he's having.

It also kind of blatantly showcases that Harley and the Joker would never be good together quite blatantly. Like under any circumstances actually for the reasons stated above. But also funnily enough she likes Joker and not Arthur as soon as he's like not the guy she dumps him. This is a concern that's also brought up in The Strange Case of Harleen and Harley with Pamela and Harleen's relationship.

It's handled different there but an issue that is still covered none the less. Now when it comes to DC deviations from canon are nothing new and the first Joker movie already did that greatly.

I did find it interesting that they did highlight how easily manipulated individuals with mental health issues of any kind can be but particularly the way it highlighted this with DiD was just brutal. It's a depressing film it is not a good time.

I would not recommend going to see it. Unless you plan to talk shit in an empty theater than actually yeah its kind of fun.

The only movie I can compare it to is Primal Fear because it is a lot like that except it also has musical numbers. The amount of musical numbers in that film outlandish. Still they had Lady Gaga and said got damn it we're going to use her.

It's a crime movie that is literally what it was labeled as at the theater. It's slow the movie itself is over two hours and the first hour is set up. Still it also has a reputation of being so bad that I shit you not the theater I went to see it in with my father was completely empty. Like a group bought five seats in front of me they were sold on the thing I bought tickets on.

They did not show up. That bitch was empty during the fucking movie I got a text from an unknown number asking if I was okay like they could fucking sense I was watching the new Joker movie-

I was having the time of my fucking life though. Do you know how often I pray for theaters to be fucking empty. Private viewing for just me. I could just text while watching it. The shit said during that later half court case wild-

It was a fucking experience my dad the entire time,

"What is this shit how can they allow this in a theater."

Me damn karmas a bitch after all that good talk I saw about well it can't be like media here where depictions of mental health are always decent. It's like let's all just ignore these several things that do the same stuff actually.

Am I saying any of these things are bad to depict. No, it's important to have media that discuss these topics and I will always believe more is needed not less. No one individual can decide what is good representation or not. However, I think implying that certain cultures are more inept than others when it comes to depicting mental health in media is unwarranted and unfair.

The examples I listed here showcase that we are all working with the same information, the same stereotypes, and western media is in no way ahead of any other places when it comes to depictions of these things. Yes, it's better than it was when I was a child but that's only marginally so. It says a lot that the only time that this topic can be mentioned by name in western media and not danced around is within Joker.

In a story that was never going to have a happy end. The Strange Case of Harleen and Harley has a good ending, Elle(s) has a good ending. When it's explained away as anything other than what it is when it's not said aloud then characters can be happy. The fact that Milgram stated what it was is already better than most recent media that only alludes to it and then quickly shuffles about and goes but it's not that we swear.

That's how I genuinely feel about it. These were good I enjoyed them but like ya know wait a bit see what happens. Ya, know~

[the-blackjay]

Happy Winter Solstice!

Spent some time today focusing about my goals for 2025, and reflecting on the past year. 2024 has been tough in some ways, and incredible in others, and I want to bring more of that energy with me into the new year.

I have achieved so much this year, for the first time ever I'm actually sticking to the goals I'm setting. I can't explain to you what that feels like, but I don't think I have ever looked at my life in such a positive way before now. I have worked so hard on myself, and it's wild to see it paying off.

(cw: abuse mentioned in red text, I'm trying to be more mindful of the way I type my posts. I'm purposefully making it hard to read to avoid upsetting people while remaining authentic to the way I speak and type.)

The biggest changes I've made that have helped me are:

Journaling/shadow work. Growing up, I was given a diary as a birthday present. I kept a journal for exactly 2 months until my abuser went through it and beattheeverlovingshitoutofme confronted me about my personal feelings. So, I have never felt safe writing my thoughts out on paper. This year has taught me the feeling of safety and security in my own home, and I'm thankful to be living such a blessed life with my partner who loves me and cares about me, and would never violate my privacy in that way. Learning to feel comfortable in my home has been very hard, I've lived on my own for going on 9 years, and I'm finally at a point where I feel safe, where I feel comfortable, where I'm able to express myself, where I'm allowed to have opinions, and where I'm allowed to talk about myself and what I love doing. Journaling has been so eye opening for me, I've struggled with ruminating thoughts my whole life, and being able to get those thoughts out of my skull and onto paper where I can visually dissect them and delve deeper into why I think and feel the way I do has been incredible. I have never tried therapy before because I'm and intellectualizer and feel it would just be a waste of money (that I don't have anyways) and I also don't trust other people with my brain in that way. Journaling has truly been the best thing I started doing for my mental health.

Limiting Contact with people who don't deserve it. Look, I'm not "gods gift to the world" or anything of the sort. I don't believe I'm better than anyone or that I deserve special treatment, but the past few years have truly opened my eyes to the way my friends have been treating and using me, and I have since limited my contact with many of them. I am always the first to call out people who mistreat others, but often would let people treat me like shit. I'm no longer going to be hypocritical in that way. I deserve friends who actually listen to my advice, who are there for me, and who enjoy spending time with me regardless of what I can do for them in return, and so do you!. I have felt so alone and so misunderstood, and so disregarded by friends in the past. I started this at the end of 2023, but this year I have pretty much removed everyone I no longer want in my life. So, the people who I dropped everything to help at 3am when their car broke down, but can't text me on my birthday. The people who came to my house while my mom was dying, and bitched about their own problems instead of comforting me. The people who talk at me for hours about their hopes and dreams, but can't pay attention to me for 2 minutes when I talk about mine. Goodbye. I don't even read the messages they've sent me, and I'm letting them fade into irrelevance where they can't bother me with their bullshit and drama anymore.

Developing a more consistent self care routine. Again, I grew up in a shitty situation. My whole child/teenhood my idea of self care was washing my hair (with bar soap, no conditioner) and brushing my teeth. So, I've always struggled with learning how to actually take care of myself. I never had a mother figure, I wasn't taught anything about hygiene or how to take care of my hair and skin. I've been putting in an exorbitant amount of effort into learning hair care, skin care, dental hygiene, the whole 9 yards. Washing my face before bed, oiling my scalp before a shower and using leave in conditioner afterwards, moisturizing, flossing and using mouthwash, the list goes on. It's not much of a glow up, but I do feel a lot better about myself and my appearance, especially coming from a place where I never had access to these things. (now if I can just control the frizz...)

Deepening my personal practice. I won't go into much detail here as everyone's practice is different and I do want to have privacy in this aspect of my life. I've been making a better effort to meditate regularly, and that has helped significantly with my stress levels and focus. It's hard to meditate with ADHD, but I've found that it's okay to let your mind wander a little before reining it back in. I've also developed a connection with several spirits who have given me so much more than I expected. My journey with the occult has been life changing, and I have felt more comfortable divulging my practice to friends and internet dwellers alike. I'm no longer worried about how others see me, and I only want to be surrounded by people who care for me regardless of my spirituality. It has taken me a very long time to be open and proud of this part of my life, and I'm never going back.

If you read this far, thanks for taking the time to sit with me! I hope you have a blessed holiday season, and I hope the new year allows you to grow and experience the best that life has to offer.

[wondereads]

Weekly Reading Update Catch-Up (04/29/24-05/20/24)

The Sunshine Court by Nora Sakavic (8/10)

As I've made very clear, I have a complicated relationship with the All for the Game series. Part of that has to do with the fact that the original trilogy, while incredibly entertaining and with some super interesting characters, is not very well-written. However, reading The Sunshine Court, I can see how much Sakavic's writing has improved. While this book is on the slower side, the pacing is much better, there's less awkward wording, and the way she addresses trauma and mental health is astronomically better. There's a great build-up with Jean's character, Sakavic has maintained her strongest suit (groups of characters that are close friends with good chemistry), and it's great to see some diversity in her LGBTQ+ rep (this book introduces our first sapphic relationship and trans character). Like I said, it's on the slower side, and I wish we'd gotten a bit more about Jeremy--I kept forgetting he has a past since it was only hinted at a couple of times. This was a great continuation to the series that improved a ton without losing its unique charm.

More reviews under the cut

The Sacrifice by Emily Shore (18+, 4/10)

This started off fun, the sort of thing I enjoy in a fantasy romance, but it quickly devolved. A lot of books pitched as 'smutty' are usually highly exaggerated with a couple of scenes, but not this one. In fact, I don't think there's a single stint of twenty pages that doesn't have a sex scene. It got to the point of ridiculousness, especially since this book was still trying to execute a semblance of a plot. Surely this can wait until after the looming threat is dealt with? Also, a lot of this smut involves things I'm not personally into, so I ended up skimming a lot of the scenes (~70% of the book). There was some interesting stuff going on with the main character and her shadow, but very little of it is explored in favor of making the characters bang...again.

The 100 by Kass Morgan (8/10)

This is a reread, and to be completely honest, I don't actually think this book is a full four stars in terms of quality. However, I have so much fun reading this book, and I am so insanely attached to Clarke and Bellamy that it boosts the rating a bit. This is a pretty typical YA dystopia, and it really scratches that itch for stories of teenage survival. It is very different from the show, so don't go into this expecting that. The main cast is different, those who are the same have slightly altered personalities, and only the most basic premise is shared in terms of plot. I always enjoy this read, but I must admit that way too much time is spent in flashbacks when things like power dynamics, side characters, and general detail shmould be getting way more attention.

Alpha Inmate by Liliana Carlisle (18+, 6/10)

This was a very quick read in my Unhinged Romance Marathon, and it honestly wasn't that bad. There's a lot of consensual non-consent vibes, but that's mostly in the dirty talk. While the main character, Ellie, is constantly talking about how she shouldn't be doing this, how bad it is, it's made very clear that she does want this. It's built to be a darker story with a serial killer love interest, a physical power imbalance, and Alpha Influence, this thing where alphas can just make their mate do...whatever they want. But when it actually comes down to it, the male lead is very insistent that he needs the main character's consent before doing anything. The Influence thing is used to make her open up about her trauma and nothing else. I feel like this reflects a lot of the psychology around sexual assault fantasies with women feeling they must be pure but still craving sex so they construct a fantasy where they are 'forced' to do something. It's really not that dark. The couple is very insta-love, or just insta-attraction, but this book is only 174 pages long. Overall, a vaguely entertaining read and pretty much just smut.

Brutal Prince by Sophie Lark (18+, 8/10)

This was actually a lot more fun than I thought it would be! A lot of contemporary romances are pitched as enemies to lovers when they would be better suited to the rivals or just annoyance label, but these were true enemies. After all, they attempt to kill each other on their wedding night. The banter was a lot of fun, and I really liked how Aida and Callum played off each other. There are three major things stopping this from being a 9 or 10 for me. First, it kind of loses momentum two-thirds of the way through, moving through the "to lovers" part a little too quickly for me. Second, despite the title being Brutal Prince, Callum honestly isn't that brutal. If anything, Aida is far more prone to violence. Third, this book comes with illustrations and they are god awful. I'm sorry to the illustrator, but the art was so weird, like caricatures of what "sexy" people should be, and I had to ignore it to get through the book. Still, this book honestly made me laugh at some points, and there's sizzling chemistry, so it stays up there for me.

Empire of Storms/Tower of Dawn Tandem Read by Sarah J. Maas (8/10, 6/10)

This took a lot of work to get through, partially because of the sheer length (~1300 pages) and partially because of the Tower of Dawn parts. Starting with EoS, it had a lot more action than I typically see from SJM novels. I also really enjoyed a lot of the romance, mainly between Aelin and Rowan, who are probably the characters I care the most about. I liked how much plot development there was, and it finally felt like there were actual consequences toward the end. However, there were a few plot threads that felt like padding instead of necessary information, often ending in last-minute deus ex machinas. Also, SJM has chronic pair-everyone-up-itis, regardless of whether that romance has any merit or chemistry (looking at you, Aedion and Lysandra).

In comparison to EoS, ToD is astonishingly boring. Half the book is Chaol walking around, moping about his oh-so-terrible conditions (which I have no sympathy for considering I was seeing this right after reading about Aelin and the others fighting for their lives). Most of the time I forgot about the main mystery at hand, because very little happened with it overall, and I was practically skimming toward the end. This book still gets a decent score on three accounts. One, I like Yrene. Two, I'm so glad Nesryn gets to be with her hot prince and not boring Chaol. Three, there is a reveal in this book that actually shocked me, so points for that.

The Sea Witch by Rebecca F. Kenney (4/10)

This one is just way too drawn out and contrived. While not exactly instalove, there is instant attraction, and everything past around the midpoint feels like desperate attempts to prolong the plot and keep the main characters from getting together. For example, the Sea Witch's motivations for leaving Averil a human forever are so stupid. Oh, it's part of his revenge--surely taking over the kingdom is plenty revenge. Also, it was so predictable that the prince would end up being an asshole. It would have introduced so much more emotional conflict if he had been just a regular person but Averil ends up falling in love with someone else. Or, to adhere to the original tale, it would have been a moment of heartbreak for her to realize he was in love with someone else, rather than the anger and revenge it's played for. There are just a lot of lost opportunities in this book, playing into overdone tropes instead of creating something new.

Kingdom of Ash by Sarah J. Maas (6/10)

It's a bit unfortunate that a story with such a long build-up would end as disappointingly as it does. First of all, as is standard with SJM books, this could easily have been 200 pages shorter. The constant back-and-forth, particularly in Aedion and Lysandra's perspectives, of preparing for death, then it's prolonged for an extra day, but it's not quite enough, was exhausting. Dorian's whole interlude with Maeve was so weird, making no sense character-wise for Maeve, who has been utterly ruthless up until this point, and most of the relationships read as rushed and forced, particularly Aedion/Lysandra and Lorcan/Elide, which have pretty much the exact same story going on. I enjoyed Aelin's escape and her healing process, and her and Rowan's relationship is always entertaining to read. However, my biggest critique is a major one. MAJOR SPOILER If you're going to introduce magical items that the characters spend no less than four books hunting down and collecting that are supposed to be a solution to their problems and then have them finally use them only for it to result in the main character losing her magical abilities and it not even doing the one thing it was supposed to do? That's bad writing, and incredibly unsatisfying for your audience. MAJOR SPOILER END Overall, I didn't get the sense of closure that I wanted from this book, and the series as a whole was mediocre, with my average rating across all the books being a 6.5 or 3.25 stars.

Kingdoms of Shadow and Ash by H. R. Moore (DNF @ 11%)

I DNF'd this so astonishingly quick because of one major issue, and that is the main character. Something that is a plague upon particularly fantasy romances are characters with shockingly modern sensibilities--despite no backstory or explanation as to why their outlook would be so different from everyone else. This book opens on a queen who has just finished conquering five kingdoms, and she promptly begins ordering people to hire women, pay income-adjusted taxes, and all sorts of progressive reform. Lovely sentiment, but why does the medieval-land queen have these sorts of ideals? And then there's the issue that these orders lose some of their appeal when you realize that as morally correct as they are, they are still issued by an absolute monarch who just finished a bloody military campaign to secure power for herself. Sometimes you can just let your main character be shitty.

Island of Graves by Lisa McMann (DNF @ 34%)

I've been working through The Unwanteds, and I must unfortunately say that I've lot interest in this series. I love a good middle grade series, and I understand that they are, of course, a bit more simple. However, I still expect a modicum of character development over the course of four books. Alex and his friends have stagnated for multiple books with any potential moral dilemmas (the seaweed, redeeming Aaron, or even just the trolley problem in a different format) either skirted around or just never presented to them. I feel like I've been reading the same story for at least four books, and Alex has become less of an awkward teenager trying to carry a community on his back and more of a flawless leader who seems to only have superficial problems. The morals are all out of whack (it's okay to kill someone in an ambush but not when they're unconscious, even if the person in question in canonically killing multiple people a day), and I just have no more motivation to work through these books anymore.

Captivate by E. J. Lawson (CR, 53%)

This isn't even a part of my romance marathon, it's just something I picked up on a whim, and it's sort of boring. There's obviously good chemistry between all the main characters, they've even had sex, and yet the most inane, stupid reason is given to keep them from getting together. I can see how this particular issue (a fatal, uncurable disease) might affect their choices, but that's not even the problem! The problem is that the female lead is refusing to tell anyone about it, despite having basically no reason to keep it from them. Utter nonsense.

365 Days by Blanka Lipinska (18+, CR, 14%)

Rest assured, I am not reading this book of my own free will and will likely be DNFing at my self-imposed 20% threshold. I cannot imagine someone writing this and thinking that this was how real life people behaved. 40 pages in and the main character is already intensely unlikable with seemingly no personality outside her permanent makeup and bold fashion choices (which far too much description is given to), and the love interest has some sort of stupid mystical connection to her, which he deals with by fucking other women in highly coercive situations.

[kalicocoa]

An Announcement on the State of Night Rule

So I’ve been struggling with how to say these things and I finally just need to get it off my chest. I think I’ll feel better after finally speaking about things, so here we go!

After today, I will not be participating in the Project SEKAI fanbase outside of finishing my fanfiction, Night Rule!

I’ve had a lot of unsavory experiences with people in this fanbase that were behind closed doors in a way. (Discord Servers, Private Messages, etc.) Making a big stink out of things will only reflect poorly on me as past experience has proven to me, so I’d rather just let sleeping dogs lie and remove myself from the equation without making an enormous post about those things.

I don’t feel very safe when interacting with people anymore and more often than not I’m hurt by unnecessary hostile behavior toward me. Hostility that ranged from disagreeing on meaningless headcanons to straight up bigotry at my expense. (I quite literally watched as some passionate readers of my fic turned on me immediately upon learning I was a person of color. I don’t feel good about this and I never will either.)

However, Night Rule will be completed. I plan to finish it, even if my motivation is practically abysmal lately. I have love for my story and the completed outline I worked so hard on, but I do not feel well writing this story for people that ultimately think little of me as the creator.

That being said, updates will be extremely scarce from this point onward. Hopefully at least once a month, but I can’t promise this due to my current mental health state. You’re getting this fanfiction for free and it’s a work that has brought a lot of aggression toward me as a person, so you can be reasonable and accept that it will update as much as it will on my terms. Hope that’s understood, because if it isn’t, that’s something you’ll have to deal with on your own I’m afraid.

Night Rule was a creation of my own personal passion for Proseka and its cast, fit with my favorite fantasy tropes and ideas I had been dying to use in a story for years. For this reason, it’s much too special to me to abandon and I plan to keep this as a thing for me before I worry about how much people love or hate it.

I recommend that if you only follow me for Project SEKAI, you should probably unfollow me now! I will not be sharing posts of it anymore and the only things related to Proseka that will be posted will be updates on this fic and reblogged fanworks of Night Rule if people continue to make those. I’ll still be playing the game on occasion, but I will not be talking about it on here casually from here on out.

Where I plan to go from here, I’m not really sure. I still have things that I enjoy, so I plan to keep writing and reblogging things that I like. Maybe I’ll move on to the next big interest. Maybe I’ll disappear someday. Who knows. We’ll figure it out when we get there.

But the point remains, this chapter of my life is coming to a close, and the end of Night Rule will be the end of my involvement in this fanbase for good.

Thank you for understanding! See you on the flip side. (❁´◡`❁)

[kateub]

#1 Sylvia Plath and the Adolescent Girl

The year is 2019, and I'm in my senior AP Lit class because I was obviously that brand of over-achiever. We were assigned to write in-depth analyses of poems of our choice, preferably from one of "the greats."

I landed upon Sylvia Plath because Google told me she was "edgy and different," and I chose "Morning Song" because the title sounded pretty. Top-tier decision-making.

Here's the poem. In short, it focuses on her feelings towards motherhood, specifically in a child's earliest days. I won't go into too much detail on this poem. If you want a better discussion of it, check out this great post I found.

So. There I am, all of seventeen years old, writing about how motherhood might change a person's life -- how the reflection in the mirror will look unfamiliar, how you begin to value another's existence over your own. Meanwhile, my largest issue in life is paying my rent. Which, to be fair, isn't a great issue for a teenager to have. The point is that I know nothing about motherhood, and I'm very good at bullshitting because I got a 96 on the paper (damn formatting; it'll get ya' every time).

Despite my inability to relate to its intended meaning, I loved the writing. It was flowery and sweet on the tongue. I could read it over and over again without getting bored. Each word had a new meaning after every read. When the project ended, I used my grungy tip money from a certain nameless drive-in to purchase a Sylvia Plath poetry collection at my local Barnes and Nobel.

And thus, the love affair began. I was hooked. It was the first time I felt that literature -- as lifeless as it may appear -- understood me. A woman who lived a much different life than mine decades prior had been able to translate my feelings into words, and the stars had aligned perfectly for me to discover her one fateful Tuesday morning in English class.

The human condition never changes, no matter the circumstances. Romance is always romance, and a suicidal teenaged girl is always a suicidal teenaged girl. She'll always think of red poppy fields when she sees her own blood. She'll listen for her father in seashells. She'll believe that she can come back to life, whether it's 1963 or 2015.

So, all of that being said might seem antithetical to my argument moving forward. . .

This is from an article on Sylvia Plath as America's "cinematic sad girl":

Because Plath's work has become synonymous with pain and suffering, her name is watered down to nothing more than a tragic figure instead of one that, despite her suicidal tendencies, possessed profound hope.

As a whole, we tend to look down upon things that teenaged girls enjoy. Look at Twilight, and Uggs, and Starbucks, and basically every young-adult romcom. We see them as trivial, basic, or *gasp* girly. Because there's absolutely nothing worse than being associated with women (the horror!).

Let's be clear. This sentiment is rooted in sexism. I believe something to this degree occurs a bit with our dear Plath, with a dash of good, old-fashioned, mental health stigmas. Another except from our previous article:

There are countless examples of other characters in film and television using The Bell Jar or Plath's name as a synonym for 'depressed,' 'complicated,' or 'overdramatic', emphasizing her misinterpretation in the cultural lexicon.

Why do I care? I love Plath. I'm not claiming that the bulk of her work isn't about her struggle with mental health, or that you should love her, too. Just to post the question: is the issue Plath's focus on her mental health, or that too many teenaged girls relate to her, so we must shit on her because something that women enjoy must be awful?

And with that, I will leave you all with a short list of some of my favorite Plath poems.

Lady Lazarus

On the Decline of Oracles

Fever 103°

Wreath for a Bridal

Ella Mason and Her Eleven Cats

[firstdivisiongirl]

I saw the matchup concept on your page which I never saw on any one piece related pages so do u mind if I requested one?

Thank you so much for your work by the way it is really comforting and enjoyable

Pronouns: she/her

Current major that I am studying: medicine

Age : 19.5

Black hair (medium to long and wavy )and white skin

Characteristics: I am a flexible person I know when to show cold and stoic emotions and when I can be easy and outgoing, I am good with communication and I am considered the ‘therapist friend’,I handle things maturily and don't let my emotions roll over the place but I can get angry sometimes if things exceeded

I rarely cry unless in extremes and if u really had to let it out no one sees it if that's something to mention

Physique : I am about 158 with an hour glass body

Size: Small/ medium

I work out but not so regularly if I am in a burnout phase

Hobbies : Reading and working out cooking and writing and I enjoy learning so much especially medicine related

I might procrastinate but I always consider the dead lines I have but when I have to get things done they must be done even if I had to say up for two days in a row

My mental health is not the best but I never reflect it on anyone so it is mostly not seen

The only obvious sign can be burnout and sleeping Al or or no sleeping at all

I struggle with ED but I can still enjoy meals with people around me and u can have a lot of times that I need comfort or to stay alone

My partner might not notice it but I am so insecure about my body and intimacy and physical touch might take a while with me

I am not a clingy person and I can understand my partner’s struggle and read through people to make things better for them

Preferences : tall with black hair tbh and about personality I need him to be understanding and not dramatic

Dates: I really don't care I can have a black coffee cup and sit next to him in my room just staring at the ceiling and I will be comfortable with him and happy

If he has any issues we can sort it out together and I want to help him, if he has anything that hurted him and he is still affected by it I want to reassure him that I am here for him

Hi. Thank you for the kind words. I’m happy that my blog can make you happy. I went back and forth between two characters, but I hope you like it! Let’s see!

You got…

Shank!!!

Whenever he gets hurt, he’ll go to you first before Hongo because he loves you and wants you to know he believes in you.

No matter what mood you are in or how you’re feeling, he will be there for you. If you have to cry? Go ahead and cry. What to yell at him? He’s ready.

He’ll sit and encourage you that you can do anything. If you feel unmotivated, he’ll do everything to help motivate you. He’s your biggest cheerleader!

He will be understanding and will love to talk things out with you.

Any date with you will be great! However, he will ask for a few drinking dates from time to time.

I hope you like it!

[claudiajcregg]

For the Let's Get ((REAL)) fic writer asks <33 🌻 💋 🎀

Thank you, Barbara! 💜💜💜 These were challenging to answer, but I appreciated having to reflect on some of those things! 😌 🥰

🌻what makes you want to give up on writing? what makes you keep going?

What makes me want to give up: knowing thinking I'm not that good a writer, and I don't add anything of value to the “archive,” so to speak – especially when I think others (my extremely talented friends) are just doing a much better job than I am tackling similar themes, in a more engaging way. Also, and perhaps relatedly, my insecurities (the language barrier! the feeling I haven't improved a bit!) and the lack of feedback/engagement I sometimes perceive I get. I am aware I write for a small, often unfairly maligned ship, but I'll still overanalyze when some people leave a nice comment but don't kudos, for example. (Depending on my mood, I'll either think it was a silly oversight, or they were humoring me.) tl;dr: I don't like the effect craving this validation has on my mental health, basically, esp when it's something I've successfully curved in other areas of my life.

What makes me keep going: to be honest, I've been struggling with this for the past year (see: 'why do this when I think others are just doing a much better job'). I've been writing quite frequently for the last six years (posting infrequently, only for two-ish), and it's something that makes me happy. I don't plan on stopping at this moment. Posting is something different altogether. I do crave validation, unfortunately, and compliments make me feel flattered and so very happy. But… I like thinking that someone out there will find a couple of my fics years down the line, just like I did with some authors myself, and they'll enjoy them, even if they are not that good!

💋when you leave comments on a fic, do you want to hear back from the writer?

I'd love to, if they want to reply, but I don't need to get a reply! Comments are a way for readers to let authors know how they felt, but once they are out there, they belong to the author more than to myself. I understand why some don't like to, or don't want to, respond, but I know that doesn't mean they don't appreciate them. Comments are so personal! 🥹 (I can't express myself properly today, so I hope that made some sense.)

I personally do it, if only because I want to thank them for taking time to read + comment. I also love rambling about things they touch on (and hope they don't mind my doing that). Sometimes it takes me weeks to get back to it, particularly if I'm in my feelings about writing and don't feel deserving of love for it. (People kept being sweet and reassuring but my insecurities still got/get the best of me. Fun times!)

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

Ah, pasapalabra. Can't avoid it? Uhhhh. I basically can't judge my writing – I'm my biggest supporter and my harshest critic. But…

I sometimes go back to some stories (but never somewhere I've already posted it in) and find myself impressed about how decent they are, and/or feeling emotional about things that happen in those stories. As if I hadn't written them and knew its emotional beats. I guess… I can be good at emotion and making it feel earned? (I'm at a loss. Pls help.)

Thank you again, Barbara! This was fun 💜 (more answers and the questions here)