#my old posts are all cringe in my mind so i surprised myself by not hating them as much as i thought i would when rereading them

[ran-orimoto]

[ Looooooooong time ago, in March ,I reckon, I posted a The Rescuers Junzumi AU sketchdump I’m very affectionate to and it wasn’t really something that unpredictable I would eventually write something for it soon. In truth, I initially wrote this very small oneshot just for myself in my free time (I stupidly feel cringe while writing about AUs and that’s a very stupid part of me I’m trying defeating just like the fankids one), but then a friend convinced me I could share it with the world as a prompt for Flufftober. I mean, why not, I told myself. Am I commiting some crime throwing stories I put 0 efforts in into the net🤣🤣🤣? Mind you, I did polish this ,tho. It used to be terrible ahahah. ]

{ Intermezzo you wouldn’t expect } aka a short one-shot for Fluffoctober about a The Rescuers AU -> •Stormy night

XXX

“Signorina Izumi, keine Sorge! No need to worry! I’m an expert in reading maps and orientating myself even in the thickest mist, ah!” The stocky man opened a piece of wrinkled and yellowish paper. His brown eyes, darkened by the blackness of a rainy night, were apparently scanning the drawings before them as he frantically searched for something he would never find. Of course.

Actually, Izumi had noticed it from the start: how he hadn’t paid a crumb of attention to what he was doing, attracted and distracted by who knew what else he might think it was more interesting than their invaluable mission. For example, if he had been focused on the map he was holding for real, he would have noticed it was upside down from the unnatural shape the venetian calle and the lagoon had, making it seem a whole sea was going to overflow and swallow the entire city.

Due to her usual courtesy and politeness, she had been wondering how she should tell him about that, if she should at that point since, after all, she could rely on herself and let him play those detective games in his silly world.

Who had ever needed a companion in a first place? She had been travelling around the world for ages knowing she could only trust her own strength, her determination no one else, -modestly speaking-, owned with such an intensity, her spirit. The only mate she had ever needed was the voice of the wind, as kind and reassuring as always, immutable, no matter where she was sent to.

Did those people from up there really believe she couldn’t deal with that situation on her own, she couldn’t take care of herself, she needed someone by her side, a man, nonetheless. From her perspective, from what she had been able to grasp so far, he was the one clearly needing help the most between them, not even being able to speak italian properly and messing it with japanese and german words.

And yet, she had chosen him when they had allowed her to do that, -at least!-. She had, though she had just assisted to a scene in which he was about to get electrocuted after he had voluntereed for the job. She didn’t even know who he truly was, now that she thought about that…Not that she had ever felt that need, either: to socialize with others from the society.

It was enough to be aware they all were adults wanting to help unlucky kids in the best way they could, through money or other types of support, -even, yes, those kinds consisting in sticking your nose in issues that were much bigger than you actually are-. What their life was like out there, who they actually were had never been important. Nobody cared, -and should know, in her opinion-, about the fact she was a flight attendant who would often find herself on modelling magazines or cat walks. And ,in return, she would survive in the obscurity, not ever finding out who he was, where he came from, how old he was, if he was married or not, - without doubts, the latter option held the predictable truth in itself-.

She had always been la Signorina Orimoto, but he had been quick at cutting to the chase and calling her la Signorina Izumi, showing no decency but not surprising her with that in the least.

And he was…Junpei-San…? He had introduced himself like that and she had also heard others addressing him in that way or with a simple Junpei. Against all the odds, he seemed to be known by many members and some seemed to appreciate him a ton, despite the clumsiness he had never managed to hide.

”Junpei-San,” A gloved hand on her chest, she finally interrupted his mumbling, which was the reason why she had eventually decided she couldn’t just let him be like that. The incoherent noises coming from his mouth were so annoying they were interfering with her own stream of consciousness. “Junpei-San!”

”Yes, Signorina Izumi!” Like a soldier, he abruptly straightened his back, but managed to strike a clumsy yet sweet smile at the same time. Slightly puzzled, she blinked for an instant, taking a step backwards without wanting to.

”The map is upside down,” She said, as dryly as you would expect from such an expert at keeping her temper under control. That was one of her good qualities she exploited to promptly make that sudden emotion making her heart beat at a weird pace, even if, again, for just a second, slip in the background of the most trivial of her thoughts,ready to be forgotten and, consequently, soon fade.

In response to her comment, Junpei didn’t immediately react. He stood still, lowered his gaze to the panorama of streets and squeezed his orbs to find that detail, that very little detail, -of course, she is attempting to be sarcastic, santo cielo!-, he had been missing. And then…

“Ja, du hast Recht. Ehm, you’re right, Signorina Izumi, it’s…Upside down.”

”Yeah. It is.” Feeling the time they had at disposal slithering away from her grip, she struggled not to add a pinch of rudeness to her tone, so rare when it came to her, a blonde woman in her fourties enwrapped in a long purple dufflecoat; the symbol of elegance and refinement; a complete oxymoron next to the man in a baggy raincoat.

But Junpei-San‘s fashion tastes were not the main problem concerning him.

”Then…Let’s fix it,” He had begun stuttering and shaking, hiccuping too, but not because they had been wandering in the chilly rain for a while. Her remark had provoked a row of side effects on his body that might have been funny to observe, -she admitted it-, could have made her even giggle in amusement, if she hadn’t been counting each second flying away from them just like that kid, that poor kid.

They couldn’t allow themselves to indulge in more foolery. No.

Her eyebrows twitched and she pulled the paper away from him, accidentally dropping the umbrella he had asked her to hold in his stead go, -it had incredibly dawned on him he couldn’t read his map, if he continued on keeping the umbrella above her head like a true knight would, and per Dio!-.

The umbrella fell on the slippery ground and let heavy drops pour their cascade on their hoods all at once, on the locks of their hair escaping from their shelters. Her legs shaking due to crawling waves of cold, her fists clenching more and more in growing irritation, Izumi couldn’t help gasping: that was it! That was the end! That was the straw breaking the camel‘s back: he was blatantly influencing her with his manners! She would absolutely have to call the SOS society and come up with a valid justification to explain her decision to give up.

”Signorina Izumi…”

“I…I…I just…”

Her exasperated yell cut through the curtain of humidity and ,maybe, -she sensed without being able to explain-, a veil made of something else as well.

She didn’t look at Junpei, whether he had been startled or had grown disgusted by that display of utter embarassment. Indeed, she didn’t even want to. May he believe she had gone nuts and wasn’t the admirable Signorina Izumi he had been staring at with dreamy eyes for the whole day: she wouldn’t be touched by a change of heart happening inside him at all. If he left her in the freezing atmosphere of the incoming night, it wouldn’t make any difference.

But maybe she had always known he wouldn’t, as it suddenly dawned on her the one who would have run away from him, the person who had found himself in front of that side of hers, would have been her herself in other circumstances.

Instead, she had remained there and had silently, unconsciously waited. She waited for that sweaty yet warm hand to defeat the low temperatures of both outside and inside, at a first and single touch of her shoulder. It sent all those nagging shivers and tremors away with who knew what kind of magical trick, and, most of all, succeeded in reminding her Izumi Orimoto, la Signorina Orimoto never threw in the towel, never let stress dominate her clear logic, no matter how hard it was to find a lead, to operate as quickly as possible to rescue an innocent soul.

”Here,” There was another kind of rain that was falling that night. Quieter, more reserved, shyer, it let itself be seen and felt only by Junpei‘s hesitant thumb. She couldn’t help sighing in relief, leaning her cheeks towards that pleasant sensation. “Let’s go home. We will be luckier tomorrow when the Sun comes out again and…The lightnings go away. They are approaching…And very fast.”

”Home?” She echoed, covering his gulps with her suspended reticence.

”Yes,” As if not wanting to let her be carried by the mistral, he grabbed her hand before bending to pick the umbrella up. “I will prepare a good hot chocolate for you. To be honest, I can’t read maps that well, but I‘m not lying I’m good at preparing those. Someday I want to bring a whole tray for the society ah ah.”

…

Chi mi salverà ?

Who will rescue me?

…

I will, no, we will. Wait for us, endure, wherever you are. Give me a little time to…To…

…

Through storms, rain and black nights, never fail to do what’s right.

But ,why not, let yourself sip a good mug of hot chocolate while looking at that mess from the window, as well.

[roccinan]

How do you feel when you watch the spin off? What do you think of it? And do you like it? For me, I sort of like eps 1-4, the rest are just meh, I couldn't bring myself to care for the other characters, I tried. And I was very confused, what year the spin off?. It started off good and... Idk. All I can say is that Andres truly belong in the asylum. That man creeps me out. If I were Camille, I ran away the second I saw that creep. Lol.

Hello anon! I couldn't answer you earlier because I didn't get to watch it. But now I've finished it and, hum, I certainly have a lot of thoughts that I'll probably post later LOL.

For now, here are the most fresh on my mind. I agree with you- eps 1-4 were surprisingly good, last one was pretty cool too, ralicia supremacy. I was mostly just surprised I didn't dislike it. Can't say I loved it, or that it's my ideal berlin spinoff, but for all the "factors" against it that Pina chose of his own free will asdfasdf, it turned out surprisingly OK.

Spinoff takes place around 2013, according to Pina. Which messes with the canon timeline so much we'll just have to see it as a parallel universe where time doesn't matter.

I now call spinoff!Andres my wife. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. So unfortunately, I cannot slander my bride like that.

But I liked that he was still a freak. The show didn't try to make him a better person thankfully, but I think a lot of the reviews were complaining about him being an asshole or complaining that he was ruined for not being enough of an asshole, missed the mark a bit. The main problem, if we have to pick one, about him, is that the context around him is too shallow to take seriously. His speeches about love have no substance (and they actually did in lcdp) because the circumstances have no substance. He's putting romance above the heist because well, why shouldn't he lmao? There's no personal stake here, and it's not like he'll get capital punishment for getting caught.

And that "problem" extends to everyone else. Their motives and actions are just very shallow and There for the sake of being there. Like Roi and Cameron could have had a moving romance, but instead Cameron made me cringe very badly with how much she felt like Alex Pina's idea of "hawt gurl with sad past!!" And said "sad" past was actually really fucked up but the story didn't seem to think so!? It wasn't a tragic romance--it was a 20-something musician sleeping with a 15yo fangirl, abducting her, and then traumatizing her so badly she entered the asylum and ended up hanging out with berlin. Like????

I'll say I misunderstood Keila though. Liked her a lot better in the show than the trailers. But everytime I went "oh, I like her uwu" she'd do something that makes me GAG like inhaling Bruce's sweat or licking his spoon asdfasdf Also the part where she confessed her love for him after the snake bite gave me secondhand embarrassment. None of the love stories felt lasting, believable, or touching to me. Probably because there were too many of them and it was even more convenient than lcdp proper!

Bruce was different than I expected. He's insensitive, but not "dumb" like the character descriptions made him out to be. Same as Keila. Everytime I thought "I like him uwu" he'd do something like talk about pubic hair or cover himself in oil/water, instantly making me die.

Damian is Sergio 2.0 and also Martin 2.0, but straight and old. No strong feelings for him either way. But it was funny that Andres got so mad about sharing a bed with him, when he was willingly hopping into bed with Martin LMAO. Also ngl, it stung my little berlermo heart to see Damian and Andres sing karaoke and go on a lover's bike ride together.

Roi was my favorite new member. He felt like a real original character, and his relationships with Cameron and Andres were nicely fleshed out even if they both confused me. Cameron because the romance was shallow to me. Andres because Roi never told us how they met or why Andres took him in. Andres giving Roi advice on temper control is also hilarious. We'll just have to assume that Andres is willing to raise everyone's kid except his own. He even took that one boy to the bathroom asdfasdf

But overall, I agree anon. I just didn't care for the new characters the same way I did the old gang or the cormorants. Maybe because the stakes were too low or because they were always beautiful and perfect (except Damian lol) no matter the situation. I personally think the producers were trying very hard to create new stars with this show, so they aggressively showed off Pina's flashy new blorbos (cameron, keila, bruce, and roi) but you can't force popularity. This is also my conspiracy theory for the lack of Sergio- they knew having the profesor here would take too much attention from the flashy new blorbos.

Not much to say about Camille. Was hoping she'd be cooler/smarter than this, but what kind of smart woman would not see the red flags in Andres LMAO. Wasn't surprised when Polignac turned out to be an asshole either- man just has the face of a jerk. Was disappointed that they didn't have a threesome with Andres. And the smartest person was Camille's friend.

Lastly, SAME ANON LOL Andres was an insane stalker, off the wall crazy and so annoying about it too. I wish Camille would have slapped him in the end, but oh well- at least their storyline didn't end as stupidly as it could have. She got her money at least XD Hopefully she's not dumb enough to reunite with him (and if she's wife no. 4 we know it didn't work out already).

Does the show deserve a season 2? No. Will I watch season 2? Yes LOL

Main takeaways:

Romance 1/10 Heist 7.5/10 Pedro's face 11/10 New characters 2/10 (not sharing all of their backstories or why/how they ended up in berlin's gang was a major weak point imo) Story 5/10

A solid 7/10 if we don't compare it to lcdp.

[avocate-assia-dazai]

Day 6: Waking up next to a dead body

Author's note: It's been truly long since i write anything. It's just an old text i finally end up (yeap i m going to continue my writtober's list). Who know maybe i'll post a bit more~

Synopsis: I think everything is in the title. The protagonist wake up next to a dead body under a beautiful night.

Number of words: a bit more then 1k (i write less? I'm surprise, but honestly vocabulary feel missing in this langage lol)

One inspiration, then another. I was breathing dead and suffocating alive. It was as if for me everything was meaningless, life was nothing but emptiness and despair. The only break here was pain and suffering. Death was the redemption i was chasing. Nothing should have happened this way. But everything did happened this way. Sometimes I have to tilt, and this time I bow. Even something as simple as death must not want me. The blood was cold, yet it had been boiling a second ago. I wondered if everyone had such cold, viscous blood, and yet so pleasant almost comforting.

I gazed up at the moon above me, looking straight into my eyes, the only witness to my agonizing desire. If she could speak, she'd probably laugh at my incompetence, or perhaps show some sympathy, some pity? But who am I to expect the Moon to take even the slightest interest in my miserable existence? I cut short this contact to turn away from this one-way exchange of eyes contact.

Feeling the blood stick to my skin as I rolled onto my side, the breeze cooling my envelope. The smell I hadn't noticed until now filled my nostrils. A metallic air, complex to describe, I'd never smelled anything like it, yet I couldn't escape the sent that surrounded me. This icy, nauseating air made me smile. Just a moment before I'd felt it as soft and warm. I decided to look at her, and delicately stretched out my fingers to touch her cold cheek.

She loved life so much. She did everything she could to make me contemplate the beauty behind what was my torment. All to make me stay by her side a little longer. But I loved death so much that I did everything to achieve my deliverance. To leave her as soon as possible. Finally, despite all her efforts, the heart of the one who wanted to live had stopped moving. As for the one who wanted to die, hers had never beaten so hard.

My gaze slid over the hole in her chest. Would the inside of my body resemble to that too? Could someone so alive hide the same emptiness as someone already dead? If I were to open myself in two, wouldn't I discover that behind this skin, already hammered by my desires, lies an even more putrid flesh that hides nothing human, nothing alive? I lifted my face just enough to take a closer look at the abyss, where the burgundy liquid had stopped pouring out.

"Why did you take that bullet, even though I was the one holding the gun?”

I wasn't waiting for an answer, I already knew it perfectly well. The answer that made me cringe at the mere thought of it: "Don't you think there are lots of beautiful things you haven't seen yet?” It was stupid, ridiculous, wasn't there just a lot of horrible things I hadn't suffered from yet? That single bullet I'd struggled so hard to find, she'd snatched it from me, stolen it from me, hoping to make me feel guilty. It was my dream she had snatched away, plunging me into her nightmare.

I tried to run away, to believe, to understand. But there was nothing to understand, nothing to try, nothing good to expect. For me, nothing had value. When I was surrounded by those I loved, paranoia cut off all breath. I never felt more alone than when I was laughing alongside them, unable to follow any conversation. But I hated being without company just as much, left with the person I loved and hated most: myself. I don't know what was worse than myself. Only suffering was powerful enough to occupy my mind enough to make me forget how detestably me I was.

Suffering, even it fled from me, leaving me alone to face reality. When I was about to fire that bullet, the only person with whom I could allow myself to be as much me as I wanted without risking a look of incomprehension, had snatched my deliverance.

I wish I'd disappeared right afterwards, that someone would come and rescue me, that someone would help me breathe. If humans are meant to live, then someone so inhuman is meant to perish. This simple wish, which I pursued as the only possible redemption, continued to elude me like sand one would try to collect with an open hand.

But when I pulled the trigger, the smell of gunpowder filling my lungs, which were still breathing perfectly, made me understand. There was no impact, and my gaze fell on an inert corpse lying in almost black grass, the night making me think I was delirious in my last moments.

Her lips were blue, and red had tinted her hair, the moonlight making her look like a fallen angel. I thought unfairly that it was my fault, but far too much her fault, and that somehow the most important thing was how I was going to end it for good. Or should I stay here? Waiting for someone to find me lying next to this dead body. I'd probably get locked up. Maybe by depriving myself of freedom to atone for a crimes who isn’t my crimes at all. I'd be able to die in peace, without having to wonder if life really have any worth, or if anyone will ever give me even a semblance of it.

No one's coming, whether to save me from myself, or to punish me for what she did.

I took an icy breath, filling my lungs with as much air as I could, before releasing it in a long, painful exhale. If this was a dream, make sure I never wake up; if it's a nightmare, make sure I'm someone else when I wake up; if it's reality, make sure my heart stops on the spot, without pain or agony, because my life has been one long, poignant one.

The more I looked at her mortified face, the more I prayed to be able to disappear at her side. Don't make this life even more painful by separating me from her, let me go in the embrace of this liquid that was hers, let me disappear with her gesture of love as my last memory, probably the only thing that proves I had any value, any shred of humanity.

I closed my eyes, let my muscles relax, and perhaps my beating heart, the only proof of life inside me, would eventually stop, and allow me never to suffer from being me again.

hope you enjoyed~ Every comment or critic is welcom!

[akookminsupporter]

yk i used to have an old frnd who i was very close to. like really. we used to talk all the time even though we live miles away and haven't met in like 7+ years. but we always got along. she had a really wide and kind of a different approach to life than other people which i really found admiring. i learned a lot of things from her and i honestly miss her presence sometimes. we don't talk anymore. time got us. there wasn't any fight or anything, we just gradually drifted apart and that's what hurts the most. why am i telling you this? because you remind me of her sometimes. she was strong, opinionated and never feared stating whatever was on her mind. that's a quality i acquired from her. so yeah... reading your messages (replies to the anons) remind me of her sometimes.

hope u do well in life, get everything u want and keep up with your spirit, rosie. i wish you the best in life and i hope everyone around you shows their love in their own way to you. and it's my request to you too, that if you have something to say to someone, say it. you never know when things might change, nothing is forever even the best of relationships (platonic, familial or romantic) end sometimes and you don't know when a stranger might become your new special person. so please don't ever hesitate to show your love to your loved ones. i've lost people and it won't be a lie if i say i barely have friends right now (i'm not forty years old, sigh. just ended high school) but that's fine i still have a lot more things coming. i could meet new people in college and hopefully form new definitions of friendships and relationships. but yes, from whatever i have seen so far, what i am sure of is that nothing is forever. i talk to everyone and you won't believe me people see me as a "happy go lucky girl" which i always like, because why being sad in front of people and making them feel sad when they can't do anything to help you? (in a good way. but i have this serious issue of bottling things up and that lead to anxiety. bad one) i literally have these thick walls because of how scared i am of forming bonds just for the fear of losing them. sigh. i just told you nothing is forever but i, myself have a hard time accepting that. easier said than done, isn't it? lol anyway a lot of sentimental and philosophical stuff have been said. geez i might cringe later at myself if you post this. nvm, it's so good that i found your blog, found bts, found armys, and found uh idk everything? yeah, life could be depressing but i try to smile it off because why not?

a frnd of mine was saying she's going to kill herself and i swear i've heard that lot more times from different people. two kids (15 year olds) commited suicide in the last two months where i live. and i was crying in the bathroom because idk who might be next. and it scares me yk what if it's me next? or in future months or years later maybe if i can't smile anymore? it's so disturbing, sigh. and i hate when people joke and say 'i'm gonna kill myself' at the slightest discomfort in life. at least once, just for a second i want them to think of thousands of those people who are surviving under constant fear of hurting themselves for real, who are actually struggling to keep themselves alive, to fight back life harder than it comes for them, and those who want someone to help them out of vicious circle of depression, anxiety and other similar problems they're caught in. i don't like people who make mental health issues look 'aesthetic'. hope they grow up to know better soon.

god i need to learn how to shut up. sorry this long. i love your blog, please don't ever shut this down. ilysm, hope you stay healthy and live your best life. also, again i'm sorry if my message is too depressing. i started off only to tell you that you remind me of my (ex) best friend lol.

Hi, anon! How are you?

I hope this doesn't sound disrespectful but I was a bit surprised when I read that you recently finished high school. There is experience in your words, experience that is usually gained over the years, with mistakes and frustrations but also joys. You are wise beyond your years, anon. That was nice to see. Although I keep in mind that at no point did you mention your age, assuming you're a teenager is perhaps a bit bold of me.

I think I've said it all day but thank you for the nice opinion you have of me. Thank you for the way you think of me. Thank you for somehow telling me that my sincerity is perceived by all of you. I'm sorry that you and your former friend have drifted apart. Life is funny like that sometimes. Sometimes people come into our lives to teach us something but not to stay. And in itself, that is also a life lesson.

In part, you remind me of me but unlike you, I have never had such positive thoughts about my future. About other people's? Of course, I have, but not about mine, I guess in that respect I like to preach but I don't apply what I preach.

Thanks for the advice and good wishes. You are a special person anon. Try not to change. Always try not to let life and all its tribulations ruin your way of thinking. Maybe try to be a little more positive about yourself. Trusting someone else people say is a rewarding thing to do, I need to work on that too, maybe we can do it together. I sincerely hope that people come into your life who bring something to you instead of taking something away from you. I hope that people come into your life with whom you can form sincere, honest and lasting relationships. You sound like the kind of friend I would like to have. That I often need to have.

I wish you nothing but the best anon, thank you for your kind words. I promise I won't forget what you said to me.

GRACIAS!!

[burgiethewriter]

Asks for a Fic Writer! 🔆

Tumblr really didn't want to show me this, the fiend, but I was tagged by @randomsquirrel (thank you!)

How many works do you have on ao3?

Oh only about 1,365 (6 if I remember to post another tonight)

2. What's your total ao3 wordcount?

2,676,845 I am very mentally well thank you for asking

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Whatever ones the brainworms are currently wiggling in. So currently it's ffxiv and ffxvi and a little dash of sso

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

Breakfast NSFW Stranger Things steddie. Which is actually the sequel to the second most kudosed one but I guess we're all sluts for domesticity.

Monster in the Bed more NSFW Stranger Things steddie. The lines of kudos emails I got from those two were fantastic.

Sunny-weather Snuggles and now for something COMPLETELY different, SFW mlp appledash. I used to have this little tradition, I suppose, of starting a new '30 day otp challenge' for every ship I liked. Don't think I ever finished one though.

Garden Party which is another SFW mlp fic but this time rarijack (I love their dynamic).

Odd Tattoo NSFW wtnv cecilos, god knows why I gave it the mature rating. I actually had this on ff.net initially, it's THAT old. But wtnv is just that popular I guess (for good reason! Night Vale my beloved).

5. do you respond to comments?

I do now after sitting there making flustered noises for a good ten minutes.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Funny thing about me, I never remember my fics. Ever. Legit I surprised myself one day discovering a stash of estimeric fics that I just. Don't remember writing. I feel like there was one though. It could be Frozen Wasteland SFW ffxiv which is about the bloody banquet at the end of arr which. Yeah. The saddest part is that I never went anywhere with it because then I started sb and met Lyse and um. Yeah.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Starlight Kittens sfw ffxiv Lyseka I think. There are probably happier endings but that's the one that immediately springs to mind.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Sometimes there are weird 'this is so cringe wtf' comments but hey it's not my fault if they don't embrace the cringe.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

I was called sin mother for a time for a REASON okay. All kinds, vanilla, kink, monster, you name it. Very much into a/b/o and monsterfucking but I keep overthinking it and that kills the mood so fast.

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

[hides the ffxiv/ffxvi one under the bed] I mean yeah. Craziest one was probablyyyyy the Gotham x SSO one. I can't remember what happened but I remember the crossover.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge but it's not like I go looking. Wouldn't surprise me if someone had stolen an sso one though, some of those kids man...

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Again not to my knowledge but I also know that ffxvi is very popular in other languages so honestly I'm waiting for it.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

I swear to god I have but I can't find it (unless Jack posted it??? It was years ago though) but I suppose the Wild West AU also counts? Green-eyed Drake's Revenge was the last one (god I miss that era so fucking much I met some of the best people but also the worst but I just really loved being a part of such a big project).

14. what's your all-time favourite ship?

The answer probably would've been easier before I played ffxvi but uhhhh yeah it's Terence/Dion from FFXVI. Which you wouldn't know from my fics for that fandom (I keep getting distracted by other ships) but like. Canon gays. Hello. How can I resist. Ship that makes me go 'eeee' and then think about for a while after I see it.

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Haha what unfinished WIPs I don't have those scattered everywhere. I would like to actually finish Frozen Wasteland (linked above) someday but there's also a phoenixflareknight fic that I'm slowly pecking away at but it has no real plot or anything so I don't think I'll finish that. And the aforementioned ffxiv/ffxvi crossover.

16. what are your writing strengths?

Making anything look good, baby. Or so I've been told. Sheer determination? Dialogue maybe?

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

"And where is all of this action taking place?" Shrug emoji. Descriptions.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think it's fine as long as there's a translation somewhere.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

Sonic. I don't think I published any of them though. It's probably better that way.

20. favourite fic you've written?

There are a few that spring to mind but I associate them with an ex-friend so ew but Lost and Found is the ffxiv/ffxvi crossover fic I do have published where I put my character and her sister and the arr-era Scions into the world of ffxvi. I love it and wish it got more attention but maybe the time's just not right yet, idk.

I tag @tiredassmage @trusted-friend-ffxiv and @sso-eden-dawnvalley

[ciaossu-imagines]

aww, i can’t believe it’s the last day already. the event was fun, and i’m looking forward to you doing something like this again one of these days! for my request, can you do admin prompt seventeen? 🎀

Aww, me either, honestly! This event has flown by and has been absolutely fantastic thanks to you gorgeous readers and all the interesting asks you guys send in! I’m super flattered you wanted to ask about me, too and I hope these aren’t too boring.

SEND AN ASK: get to know your author

Is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

Honestly, yes. With a new job and everything going on in my life, I do get busy and my writing time can get limited. I always prioritize asks and requests and this blog over any other writing, and anytime I’m not writing asks, I’m working on the two ficlet collections (the K AU! and the comfort/fluff fics) because I know those have audiences that do want to read the next chapters, so those become my next priorities. While I’m trying to be kinder to myself in terms of my writing, I do push aside my crossover and OC writing 99% of the time, even if I have all these ideas in my head because I just normally don’t have much time to write them and still be as active on here as I’d like to be. I did clear off a sideblog I never used to really use as a catchplace for that project and I probably will try to get around to it, but it’s just not something I give myself much time for because I know it doesn’t have the interest or audience that my other writing does.

What work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

Oh god, I’ve been writing a looooooooonnnnng time. I started on quizilla and it was cringe, but thankfully with that disappearing, all my earliest cringe writing disappeared. I know at least one person knows my old pen-name I wrote under on ff.net but seriously, I try to avoid looking at any of the writing on there either because it really is just so bad. Even some of my writing that still exists on polycanons, I look at with such embarrassment because I see so many mistakes or things I could have done better. So, in short…pretty much all of it, hahaha!!

What order do you write in? Front of book to back? Chronological? Favourite scenes first? Something else?

Where I write mostly requests, it’s actually really easy and straight-forward, most of my writing. When I write fics though, they tend to be drabbles, which is just straight scenes, or collections of scenes because I do write scene by scene and have a really hard time figuring out how best to connect them! I haven’t sat down and written an honest to god, beginning to end, in chronological order, fic in a really long time because I normally have a beginning and a general outline of how everything happens, along with an ending in mind, with strong scenes here and there, but no in-between parts.

Favourite character you’ve written?

That’s impossible!! I have written for over thirty fandoms to date, and while I might have favourite characters to write for from each fandom, I have no actual die-hard favourite overall!

Character you were most surprised to end up writing?

I’m still surprised at some of the requests I get, seeing which characters tend to be the most popular at any given time in the fandoms I write for. I was really surprised to have Bandou be a character I do get quite a few asks for, as he isn’t too many people’s favourite HOMRA boy, and was surprised to get that V request for Mystic Messenger, because I do know that, while I love him and find him such an intriguing character, he’s relatively strongly disliked within the fandom.

Something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now?

Part of the reason I don’t go back and look at my old writing too often (even old requests on here) is because I always see something I want to rewrite or change. I’ll be proof-reading for stuff I post and then the post will be delayed because my mind will go ‘nope, that isn’t right, you can word that better or you should change it to this’ and while that’s great while proofing and editing, going back and rewriting entire fics or previously answered requests isn’t quite as possible.

When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

I have honestly never had anyone ask if I write, so I just don’t bring it up. I’m not embarrassed, even though fanfiction can be looked down upon, because I love to write, but it’s just more so that nobody really asks and I honestly don’t talk a lot about myself in general.

Favourite genre to write?

I will write most things and enjoy it (though fluff really does not come naturally or easily, but that’s the fun challenge to it). I will say that, overall, a lot of what I write tends to become either smut or angst and I live for writing AU’s, especially AU’s that have paranormal, supernatural, or mystery elements.

What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Music and exercise really helps me not only straighten out ideas I have and figure out new ones but gives me the right state of mind to really straighten out characterization and wording as well. If it’s too gross to get outside, I’ll throw on my earbuds and music and pace around and around my apartment. If’s it nice out, I throw on music and head out for long walks.

Write in silence or with background noise? With people or alone?

While music helps with brainstorming, it does have to be off for me to write. I need relative silence to write, without extra background noise, and I do write alone or at least tucked away in my own little corner where the screen won’t be visible to anyone else.

What aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

I started writing at 9. Just little baby me, writing fanfiction out on paper, with terrible Mary-Sues and atrocious plot lines and wooden dialogue. Every single aspect of my writing has improved since that point, and I’m always improving in some new area as I continue to write. Even now, I’ll find I’m answering a request and something that would have taken me hours to figure out properly in my head is now only taking me thirty or forty minutes, sometimes even less.

Your weaknesses as an author?

That being said…my fuck, my dialogue writing is still fucking HARD. I struggle so incredibly much with dialogue, which is why you all might notice that it doesn’t occur a lot in my writing. It’s one of those things where, if I can avoid making them talk by summarizing a conversation, I’m taking that route. I do find I struggle a little with fluff or soft, romantic stuff, as mentioned above, but that’s simply because I’m not an overly romantic person as a whole and what I find sweet or cute, other die-hard romantics might find overly practical or bland.

Your strengths as an author?

Nobody can ever accuse me of not giving it my all. I pour my heart and soul into making every request, every fic, every sentence the very best I can do.

Do you make playlists for your current WIPs?

I don’t tend to make playlists for the stories overall or for specific requests (unless the request is music related), but I make them for the individual characters. I have general playlists for characters, for characters when writing particular AU’s, etc. and that is what I throw on when walking out my ideas.

Why did you start writing?

Because if I didn’t, I felt I would go insane. The words, the stories, the ideas cluttered up my head, made me feel overwhelmed and anxious, to the point where I couldn’t sleep, and I just started writing them out, because it helped me get them out of my head.

Are there any characters who haunt you?

Nope. I actually don’t feel haunted by any characters. All the ones I do feel a connection for feel more like friends, former or present, rather than ghosts.

If you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

This one is really fucking personal and, honestly, the answer would not make anyone happy to hear, because it does touch on where I was in my life at that point, so honestly, let’s all skip this one.

Were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? What were they?

My style, my own unique writing voice, is more than likely the result of so many different authors, whose works I consumed voraciously as I grew. Stephen King, Douglas Adams, Jim Butcher, L.M. Montgomery, Louisa May Alcott, J.K. Rowling…I am very sure that all of those authors helped play huge roles in me discovering my own writing style, because they were all mainstays of my bookshelves growing up and even now.

When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, etc.?

I honestly don’t know. I don’t really sit down and write out all these outlines and character profiles and all that. They’re just there, in my head, like what I ate for dinner or where I’ll be next Friday.

Do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

It’s a mixture of both. I tend to sit down to write, with plans to work on writing between this time and that time, and that’s what I do. However, if something isn’t coming naturally or I’m stuck on how to word something or I’m cramping up, I’ll get up and take a smoke break, grab a coffee, mindlessly grind a few levels on Blush Blush, or the like, which is why, on my writing days, you guys might notice it takes me a bit longer sometimes in between posts than normal.

What do you think when you read over your older work?

Kind of answered above, but I really try not to read my older works!

Are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

Yes. Yes, I really do, which is why the rules on this blog exist, so obviously the things that I ban there are uncomfortable for me to write about. But there’s also times, though I do my very best to never let it hint through in the writing, where I really am ripping open old trauma, old scars, old pain and insecurities when answering certain topics or when I’m writing out certain fics. With the requests, I generally can’t help it if the topic requested ends up hitting too close to home, but other times, I’ll be writing a story and my experiences will start to colour it or past experiences will creep into the narrative and while I don’t remove them, because they do often make the characters or story richer for the telling, more nuanced and fleshed out, it is still a very personal, very vulnerable area I’m writing from.

Any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

I have lived a very…colourful…life, with experiences that happen to, viewing them back now, have been very outside the norm. Add to that the fact that I’m a fat, mentally ill, woman who isn’t fully Caucasian (I have enough Native blood to qualify for a card and cheap res cigarettes) and you have someone with lived experiences that can definitely help when diving into characters, when fleshing them out, when coming up with storylines, when playing out situations that might not occur to others.

Have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or story?

Thanks to match-ups, I’ve become somewhat of an expert in MBTI results, despite my firm opinion of it of pseudoscience.

Copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of?

Oh god…this one was hard. I had to really dig deep for this one and went back to the only fic I’m still at all proud of my ff.net days, a kind of ‘what does death hold’ fic for the Vongola family, focusing on Lambo…

“…His hand stretched out to them and he was unsurprised to find it clad in a cow-printed suit, the hand of the five-year old boy he’d been when he had first become Vongola, became family. He went to climb the next stair, went to join his family when a bolt of lightning hit the stair in front of him, shattering the stone. For one terrifying second, Lambo thought he would die before he finished climbing, before he got to them but instead of pain, he felt himself gently held in a pair of strong arms.

“It’s okay, Lambo. You’re home now,” Tsuna whispered out, smiling down at the young cow.

“Took you long enough to come home, dumb cow,” Gokudera’s voice said, drifting on the wind.

Early the next morning, the workers of the Namimori Shrine got quite the surprise. The storm of the previous night, the worst one Namimori had gotten in nearly twenty years, had destroyed most of the area around the shrine. Trees had blown over; power-lines had been knocked down. But most surprising was the steps leading up to the shrine. The second to last and last step had been struck by lightning and were crumbling and burnt. And on those steps was a man, pronounced dead by the medics the workers had called. His wallet gave his name and his information.

At fifty-eight, the Decimo’s Guardian of Lightning was dead, struck by one last fatal bolt of lightning.”

[emoverted]

back to the streets where we began

Me? On Tumblr? In 2024?

Feels like it was just yesterday I patiently waited for Tumblr to be unblocked in Indonesia. The app wandered aimlessly on the phone of a 12-year-old me, just like herself, in the world supposed to be her's from her eyes. With little hope, the app soon came to life and became her world. No, she did not post anything unlike now, but being an observer was enough. Fandom after fandom and phase after phase (feels weird saying those words in 2024), she dived through in the pursuit of exploring herself continuously. While I can't say those days were the best (who would you be proud of their edgy phase?), they did bring me to the person I am today. I still am the same old flawed me, or as I would like to call myself on this site back in the day, potato. But I can safely say my approach in life has greatly differed. Again, not to say I am already living my fullest and best life. In fact, I wouldn't necessarily call it life if I'm fulfilled. Instead, I choose and am trying my best to view both the good and the bad things in life as equal. I'm grateful for the good days, but I'm even more grateful for the bad days. There has to be a deeper meaning when things don't go our way and I aspire to explore that more this year. As I've said, no matter how much I cringe in the remembrance of my Tumblr days, they undeniably shape my present self, and it's the same for other fragments of my past. Just now I realized how I've been lying to myself. I thought I'd put my past behind me, forgiven my younger, dazed, and clueless self when deep down, I still hold a grudge against her. Through this brand new year, I hope to slowly make sense of her wrong choices in order to make peace with my current self.

Well, that was a mouthful. Now as to why I decided that now is the right time for me to post the randomness inside my head in Tumblr specifically, out of all places. Surprise surprise, I've tried posting on more professional sites, I'll let you guess them yourself. But what I realized is it pressured me to publish eloquently written essays, having gone through the tiring process of drafting, editing, and proofreading, all leading up to the final flawless essay. The topic itself should also be something other people would be drawn into. These factors led me to dread what was supposed to be a reflective routine. I know I've loved writing ever since the day I could, but structures and all that jazz are not exactly my cup of tea, although I sometimes unashamedly enjoy the art of writing academic essays and papers. Nevertheless, it's not like I would willingly create a habit out of it. Long story short, I rekindled with Tumblr and realized that its format is just right for me to create as many mistakes as I could within my writings without the guilt following it. Besides, striving for progress and not perfection is on my bucket list, as a self-proclaimed perfectionist procrastinator. Anyway, I shall pour out from the tidbits to the very depths of my mind here with all of its nonsense. But when I do feel extra special for specific writing, I might publish it on those so-called professional sites. In the meantime, I hope you survive being exposed to my messy thoughts.

[theartofquirk]

The Old Ways

Do you ever wonder about your ancestors? I've recently been on an investigative trip around my family tree with some quite interesting results.

I have a (very) distant cousin who was convicted of sheep stealing in the 1800's, deported to Tasmania and subsequently became a timber magnate & world renown apple cider brewer. The liquor is still available today but will set you back over £100 a bottle.

I have a cousin who was dubbed Yorkshire's very own Florence Nightingale for assisting a famous doctor in a malaria hospital in Guatemala. She earned herself the highest honour in that country, the Order of The Quetzal.

I discovered servants, potters, miners and even one committed to the West Yorkshire lunatic asylum. Which may explain a few things...

I initially thought the task to be a fun one but was surprised to find that it was also therapeutic.

My Father had told me about my ancestors on his side when I was a child. My hyperactive, naive brain didn't appreciate that sometime in the future I may wish to remember these stories and not have the chance for them to be retold.

On my Mothers side, there was less knowledge. In fact, we don't even know who my Grandfather was. A fact, unfortunately, taken to the grave.

As I piece together my lineage I find myself feeling more rooted to the Earth. Something I've struggled with for decades with this overactive, dissociation-prone mind.

I also have been spending a good deal of time thinking about local history, the differences in society and about the state of the world at large. This led me to consider whether information, otherwise passed down through generations by word-of-mouth, was lost when dual-income families and internet generation kids (like myself) became the norm.

I remembered my Mother always had a book of Mrs Beaton's Household Management on the kitchen shelf. I looked through it occasionally as a child, put off by recipes that required offal, and condemning the book as 'remnants of a distant past', a past made obsolete through modern convenience.

Looking back I cringe. I'm constantly apologising for my house when visitors come, though I am reassured that most laugh and say it's fine - I should have seen where they just came from! I'm never organised, often forgetful and suffer regular bouts of overwhelm. Perhaps, if I'd have shown Mrs Beaton greater respect, or domestic economy was taught in my family as a necessary skill, I wouldn't have been doomed to confusion and frustration. Or maybe I really am just lazy, as my brain likes to tell me in moments of weakness. Life was comfortable growing up but it didn't orient me very well in the world.

So I've resolved to make up for lost time. I've decided to learn from the real experts, the petticoat-wearing women of old. Starting from the oldest book in the Internet Archive, I'll be working my way though each book to the present in the hope to reveal the mysteries of a well-managed home.

The first book is from the 1800's and is the concisely named:

“The Family Hand-Book; Or Practical Information in Domestic Economy; Including Cookery, Household Management, and All Other Subjects Connected With the Health, Comfort and Expenditure of a Family: With a Collection of Choice Receipts and Valuable Hints”

I'll be pulling out small passages that jump out to me, either as something I wish I'd known or something that I feel is worthy of conversation. I won't be sticking to a set schedule as I'm clearly not that kind of organised but I will post as soon as I find each little nugget of gold.

Pass me my pinafore Mrs B!

[kcwritely]

On Realizing Dreams and Becoming a Writer

Hi! I’m a writer just dipping my toes into posting my original works. I’ve spent a lot of time on the fan side of tumblr, writing for my favorite shows, books, movies, and games. But I was always worried my own works wouldn’t live up to the same positive reception and praise as my fan works. So, I’ve been hesitant to share.

But now, I want to branch out and bring my personal writings to the public! Which I find absolutely terrifying, but we all have to start somewhere. I’ve already posted some of my old poetry, but that hasn’t exactly met the welcome I hoped for. So, I thought I would take a more personal approach and share a bit about myself.

I’ve been writing and creating stories ever since I was a toddler. Of course, it was all about pretend and play rather than actual literature at the time. My interest in writing began in earnest when I was around ten years old. My personal life had become unstable at that point, and it was during this time that I truly began to connect with and find solace in books.

I started seriously writing my own stories when I entered middle school. These were, of course, a bit silly. They are undoubtedly full of all the classic middle school tropes, hang-ups, and pitfalls. But this was the very beginning of a lifelong passion. So, I look back on those old works with fondness.

It wasn’t until I reached high school that I began to write and plot out novels. These, too, were ‘cringe’ and are still a bit embarrassing to look back on. But they were the foundation of who I am as a storyteller today. It was during this time that I discovered my love of world-building. I genuinely believe it is one of the best parts of being a writer.

Unfortunately, I also suffered from crippling self-doubt and a severe case of imposter syndrome. So, I never shared my work with others. I often felt that what I created was not refined enough to be read by anyone but myself or my supportive mother. This mindset followed me for many years, making it difficult to chart a clear path toward my future.

When it came time for college, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do. I have other passions and briefly considered following them. However, I ultimately chose to pursue my love of language and literature. I wound up becoming an English major. Although, I had no intention of becoming an author. At that point in time, my confidence as a writer was low. I just thought it would be better to put my talents to use as an editor. So, I pursued a minor in editing and decided that would be my career.

It wasn’t until the pandemic, after graduating college and a horrible stint in Corporate America, that I realized my life was my own. And I could pursue whatever dream I wanted. At first, this meant pursuing a career as a tattoo artist. A very different path, I realize. But I could not deny my love for the craft. Not to mention, this was another dream I had convinced myself was unattainable just because it was I who looked to attain it. Once I realized I could pursue any path I desired, as long as I put in the work and tried my best, everything changed.

I began practicing for hours daily to improve my art and become a tattoo artist. These efforts eventually led to my skills growing dramatically. I was so surprised to realize what I could accomplish if I wasn’t standing in my own way. It was the first time I truly thought of myself as someone with talent. I followed this dream for quite some time, building my portfolio and researching local shops that might need an apprentice.

It wasn’t until one fateful night when I was driving home from a bridal shower that the idea hit me. An old book concept from my high school days resurfaced in my mind, and I suddenly knew what the story needed. When I finally got home, I began writing these ideas down immediately. I didn’t even realize it was three in the morning by the time I finished. From that moment on, I became infatuated with my story. Rekindling a love I had long thought was lost.

With a renewed interest in my lifelong passion, I dedicated myself to my dreams. I decided that this time, nothing would keep me from achieving my goals, not outside influences and certainly not myself. Through this new resolve, I began working on my largest project ever, a seven-book epic fantasy adventure exploring a vast and diverse world of my creation.

Now, I want to share the process of such an undertaking with all of you! From conception to plotting, world-building to character creation, I’m sharing it all! I encourage anyone who is a writer or wants to be one to reach out to me. I am happy to share my experience and help other writers realize their dreams like I have begun to do for myself. If you have read this far, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for doing so. I wish you all the best in your writing journey, and I hope you, the reader, can learn something from my experiences.

Please feel free to reach out to me with any questions about writing!

[consistentresearchpractice]

I've taken things too far, Michel.

Recumbent Post guernica above headboard, Michel. slight gormless expression, stroking through bed sheets deep red same as car same as eyes same non committal answer. Michel!

Michel

Once again I sit and furiously type. I've got a sigil in hand. Autechre is on. He assumes he is the bad one in a horror scenario. I do not care if he lives or dies. Michel, I am coming up blank to be honest.

I may be surprised satisfied or not surprised. I am unconvinced. I don't think it is possible to become like what I had thought. An extreme sleaze.... The outer limits look kinda lame!!!!!! Michel!!!

Michel

He asks if I can stand there naked. I say no.

I ask about the urtrans person or gesamtransiton.

Michel

He makes me listen to highly cringe music. Maybe I'll try to get merzbow on?

Michel

Maybe I am thinking of a space more than a person

Michel

I've got the sigil. It must be binned in here. Actually, I revise, it can't. I think he's stupid.

I leave, I can't stop thinking about where I am, I construct a fear that I was the last person to ever see him.

I want to tear my skin off a little

The morgellons begin again to traverse my surface.

Michel

17 Green law. Ground floor green door

I have invented such novel ways to hurt myself

I have invented such novel ways to hurt myself

I have invented such novel ways to hurt myself.

Everyone thinks I am fucked in the head

Everyone wants to fuck me in the head

Fuck me up

Unwanted exposure fucked me up Michel

I knew it was wrong but I painted over it,

Said it's all just porn and academia in real life

But I'm bristling in the city centre

I think it's lurking behind every corner

I'm crying in the sushi place

Into my miso.

I'm screaming in my mind Michel

I think I'm fucked in the head, like I am so fucked up

I can't distinguish real life from fiction

I entered a gap year den of shit

I want to maim the shithead

He tried to wear me down

I didn't wear down

He tried to worm in, I dry heaved

He didn't take it as a hint

I fucking hate the smell

Michel

I fucking hate all the inferiors like him

Raised in barns, probably

No coasters and no coffee table

I'm wearing the skin of a 22 year old tboy

Fuck knows if he even exists

There is no food.

I am exposed to stupid shit

Fuck, Michel

I am so so so so fucked in the head.

[skylitexo]

My life

So much time has gone. So many people have exited. Some for the best and some for the worst. Things come and go. I accept it... or trying too. My mental health is unusual. One thing I take pride in is being able to is working out consistently. Losing weight effectively.. I lost 40lbs. My goal is to hit 130. I am at 138. I am building muscle right now. I went through a period where I wasn’t necessarily living last fall. I barely ate and slept. I was so exhausted. I was trying to graduate as soon as I could. Taking 18 credit hours and an internship on top of it, but I graduated.. I wanted my mom to see it... but she didn’t. She died. Then, earlier that day before she passed my boyfriend, my love.... the one that I connected with so I thought spiritually.. cheated. Not surprised, but it’s okay. I understand. He wasn’t happy with himself. He was insecure and felt the need to be a piece of shit. What a nice touch on his end. Anyway, three days later Mom.. I gIraduated after you died. It was so hard to walk across the stage.. knowing I watched you die the way you did. It was so traumatizing. I have such bad PTSD. The way it came out of your mouth... your body... the fluids.. I don’t want to say because it will scare people away. Mom I miss you. I want to call you and tell you everything. I want to tell you what Jules did to me. What he gave me. How he treated me in the end. I never saw it coming. I couldn’t believe it really, but most importantly mama. I hate coming home and seeing you not there. Where your voice doesn’t echo in the hallway. I hate seeing Todd pass out drunk on the floor almost nearly every night. Hearing Alexis cry over the phone. Her saying, “we need to be strong. It’s okay Sky. We got each other”. This is so fucked up.. all of this. I am thankful that my friend Bo, drove 7 hours to be by my side. I am thankful that Audrey was there and watched me grieve my mom the day she died. She held me, and watched my mom took her last breaths. Talking about this now is triggering. I can’t... I hate cancer. I hate missing you. I hate such bad flashbacks. It’s so triggering. Anyway, I haven’t landed a job.. I am interning still. I move away from U of I and back into my old childhood home for a few months. I have a trip planned to Cali. I been california dreaming for months. I will keep doing so... I will keep traveling the world. I don’t care about being alone. I am okay with it. At least no one will hurt me. I changed a lot as a person and overcame so much. I am stronger than I used to be. I am a deeper person. Spiritually and emotionally. Hell, looking back at all my post makes me cringe. Like why were you crying over someone like that? I a so glad I lost weight and started prioritizing myself. I am still trying to manage my mental health. My mood swings. I was in therapy for a bit and will be going back. There is some insurance issues and cancellations that had occured on their end, but I am counting down the days. Self love may not always look beautiful. It’s not about beating your face. Putting on a cute outfit or changing your hair. It’s a lot of tears, heavy workouts, sleeping, and recognizing your toxic patterns. It’s about digging deeper into yourself. It’s about seeking help when you know you need it. It’s about learning patience and understanding. It’s about putting nourishing food in your body. It’s about sleep appropriately. I could go on and on. I am trying. I will continue to try and live to the best of my ability. I don’t want to rot even though sometimes my mind tells me to disappear or to hurt myself. I am trying to control my rage, but I have and am healing... somethings I am over and some are not. It will be okay. I will be okay. I think. I hope. Also, in my next post I plan to talk about the spiritual things I have encountered before, during, and after my mom's passing. I have been “awake” for awhile now. However, I don’t want to burn one's eyes much longer with my long post. 

[thesoulsearcheruniverse-blog]

HELLO Tumblr. You’re still HERE.

So I decided to visit this old timey. 

The last post I had here was nearly 6 years ago. Upon checking, not a single like or comment was given to any of my post. I figured, no one saw or cared about what I post here.

I came back because somehow, I felt I need to delete this account, since I really have no use for it. I was on a decluttering trip where I decided just delete all of my social media accounts and other things, which of course Tumblr is no exception. Also, I stopped my creative writing a long time ago, and I found myself focused in other things now. When I abandoned this site, a part of my creativity was also abandoned. And everything has changed drastically in those years, not just with me personally, but how the world functioned. Everything is a lot more complicated now for some reason. 

I was a lot younger when I made this tumblr account, and when I posted all those posts. I was a passionate teen that was equally immature and somehow extremely insecure. Realizing it now however, I found my younger self, while vulnerable, was more genuine. It’s different now, when you are a professional and an adult, your work is your life. When you have built your reputation and career high enough, you cannot risk of losing it by being naive or whimsical. And sometimes, you do tend to lose grip of your identity, who are you really? No matter how true you think you are, you are more likely just a version of some other person you are trying to be (or not to be). So again, who are you really?

Going back. . .

Here’s the thing, upon reading the old works I have posted here, I am somehow surprised how poetic I actually was. I am impressed. Before the legal jargons and the provisions of the law that consumes me now, I was more freer with the words I chose, more creative, more edgy, and less technical. It was more of the risky wordplay that bears little to no consequence but the feeling of cringe on some other time. Filled with teenage angst and passion, with an underlying intent of trying to be someone in the ArtLit scene. 

While I have no intention of reviving this account, I also changed my mind on deleting it. Having read all those words I have said before here, I couldn’t help but feel that it is my duty to preserve this version of me that I was actually fond of despite hating it at that time, and because I’ve grown so much that it’s just beautiful to see. 

- Y. R.

[somewhat-insane]

I was going through old posts of mine (looking for something specific) and I found a privated post from 2023 (I'm editing and posting this on Jan. 20, 2025) that I genuinely do not remember making. It's the usual teen angst, and it's kinda venty but in a non-descriptive way. You can read it under the cut if you have nothing better to do.

I don’t know how healthy it is to try and base my career on a long-standing coping mechanism, but if people can get paid for testing games I can get paid for partaking in one of my favorite forms of escapism. No one’s actually present these days anyway. We go by daily on autopilot, only waking up when we hit a wall and realize that it’s just too much.

A lot of us recover from this. Going from our darkest depths to once again being a mindless member of society. Some of us don’t.

Some of us die.

And I don’t mean to say we’re all sheep just following our leaders. We do fight back, and we do realize what’s wrong… but at some point, isn’t that autopilot as well? Everyone hates everything and I can’t understand why. I know, at one time I did, but I can’t anymore. And it feels like I lost a part of myself but… it also feels like I’m finally free. It’s not that I lost my empathy, it’s that I lost my apathy. And maybe that’s the defining factor of whether or not I thrive in this world or wither and die.

I care too much.

Everything was so much better when I didn’t care.

When I couldn’t care.

Now I just feel helpless.

Often times I’ve asked myself why I like writing so much, and my answer has changed throughout the years, though I think every answer was correct and simply a single piece of what would now be seen as the puzzle of my mental health. Some of the pieces were lost and we can only speculate about the image on them using context clues.

“Let’s see, do I have crippling anxiety because of my traumatic birth or because of the cruel treatment of special needs kids that I was forced to witness when I was in pre-k?”

When I was younger I mused that I wrote so I could finally be in control or something. I wrote because there were no surprises. Nothing happened that I didn’t want or directly make happen. And perhaps a part of my twisted mind enjoyed torturing my characters. Putting them through more pain than I would ever have to experience because that was the only way I would feel okay.

My older writings were far from perfect, and even now I find myself straying further from perfection the more I realize that “perfect” and “what I want to be” are not one and the same. Contrary to what the adults around me say.

“Practice makes perfect.”

Relentless practice at the detriment of my mental and/or physical state is also a one-way ticket to having a bullet lodged in my brain but you’d rather not talk about that, right?

Nevertheless, I do not cringe away from… most of my creations because I see them for what they were, cheap tactics to separate myself from a problem. Meaningless scenes with faceless characters just to avoid coming to terms with my own reality. Be it a death, a breakup, or the lingering feeling that I’m just not good enough. Eventually, of course, I realized I would never be good enough because every person’s rules on how to be “good enough” are almost exclusively contradictory to each other. And sure, maybe there’s always some compromise, but a lot of people don’t want compromises they want everything they want and nothing less.

After all, that’s why I started writing, isn’t it? So I could be in control?

God, I’m a hypocrite.

Anyway, no, I will never be good enough. And maybe that’s the one saving grace I have. I see others striving to be the best and I can’t help but wonder why. I don’t understand it and it’s irritating to try. Because maybe I don’t want to try. Maybe, for once, I’m tired of understanding. I shouldn’t know how other people are suffering. I don’t want to know that people are suffering at all. I want to be stupid and unaware because maybe for once I can get a good night's sleep without having nightmares about-

… about…

What… what was I talking about again?

[drdemonprince]

I was a massive gaga STAN for years, she was truly one of my Divas. I knew all of the lyrics to all of her songs, including the more obscure deep cuts, I adored Art Pop and was such a huge booster for it despite it's underperformance (and I maintain that it was ahead of its time and was a clear precursor to the hyperpop genre!), I loved Bloody Mary and listened to it on repeat in 2011 when it first came out, I held onto alternative edits of Do What You Want With My Body and had strong opinions on it (The Christina Aguilera version redeems it entirely, but sadly the R Kelly is better produced), I saw her at Lollapalooza in 2010, I had merch, I looked at every photospread she did for ages, and I really enjoyed Chromatica and Dawn of Chromatica more than the average fan, too and went to club nights devoted to those albums. I considered her to be one of my Big Aries Icons that I identified with So Much, and she and I looked so similar back in the day that strangers would regularly bring up the resemblance to me. I made some haircut/bleaching decisions specifically with that resemblance in mind because I enjoyed it.

And yet, compared to some of my other fallen pop divas, like, say, Grimes, Lady Gaga's slip from grace has felt so unceremonious and untortured. After Chromatica and Dawn of Chromatica's releases, she fell off from posting about music completely and put all of her energy into her makeup brand and acting. By then owning a makeup brand had already become somewhat uncool, especially in the wake of the Tati Westbrook / James Charles / Jeffrey Star / Shane Dawson drammageddon, and though I enjoyed the high camp of House of Gucci and considered A Star is Born to be perfectly okay, Lady Gaga's acting was never really all that good. She's put concerted effort into the craft and come a long way since her American Horror Stories days, believe me, but the pretentious Method Acting Energy she brought to the House of Gucci press tour was absolutely cringe. It's not that deep, Stefani.

Add onto that her politically tepid Super Bowl performance (in front of Mike Pence) and her heavy campaigning for Biden and choice to sing at his inauguration and the writing was on the wall. Lady Gaga is a bland old lib, like anyone else still shilling for the Democratic party, and you can't count on her for much. The pro-Israel posts put the final nail in the coffin for me, an unsurprising end at that point. She's become so moderate and toothless that honestly even the pro Dylan Mulvaney post mildly surprised me, but did nothing for me.

Interestingly I find Grime's devolution far more troubling. I think because Grimes is someone who is so clearly unwell and because it's so easy to see signs of Elon's abuse. Even before getting together with him Grimes was unpredictable, terrible at feeding or looking after herself, had to cancel bookings unexpectedly all the time, didn't know how to protect herself during interviews or stay on message, and frayed professional relationships all the time. But once Elon entered the picture the reproductive abuse and financial exploitation as well as the constant undermining of her career really hurt to witness.

(You can call her a phony and a capitalist, traditionalist shill all you like and i will agree with you. it's just also the case that Elon has been recorded verbally insulting her during live DJ sets, is on record as having interrupted her recording sessions at the Cyberpunk studios and demanding to get his own role in the game and making a creative partnership she was excited about all about himself, restricted her access to her son, had multiple relationships behind her back, even getting an employee of his pregnant during one of his affairs, and is just generally a terrifying piece of shit. I think Grimes is both a vulnerable Autistic person and a dipshit. she's not worth the energy either. but i find myself compelled to invest it anyway, because it reminds me of my own experiences.)

With Lady Gaga it feels so clear cut because she is obviously a person who is competent, methodical, professional, and tame. She's the face of the liberal establishment. And I guess that's just a more boring, banal kind of evil than the messy, edgelordy, yet sometimes sympathetic evil that Grimes dabbles in, though again, who cares if she's also a closeted T boy at this point either. (i do!! here's how we can still win!!! i am delusional).

I made fun of the Gaylors and now I'm getting my comeuppance. I hadn't listened to Lady Gaga in a decade but yesterday on a long drive i listened to The Fame Monster-Born This Way- Artpop-Chromatica all in one go and I entered a trance state and now I am a Trans Man Lady Gaga Truther. I'm physically holding myself back from reading any interviews so I can preserve my dignity and call it a Trans Read Of Lady Gaga's Oeuvre.

save your energy homie she's pro israel. shes not worth it

[dangan-meme-palace]

Rewatching a let's play of V3 and post-5th trial, Shuichi apologizes to Maki for what happened to Kaito, and basically says it's like back then with Kaede, he always hurts the people he likes.

A big part of the way Kaito helps him is by supporting the actions that Shuichi has to take as the detective. Their first training session is telling him that Kaede's sins are hers and beginning to get him out of the mindset that he was responsible in some way for her fate. This is a recurring pattern that continues in the trial where he encourages Shuichi to face Kirumi even if she's appreciated by the cast for everything she does from cooking to cleaning, even if her motivation to save her people reads as selfless. I don't exactly remember the exact words, but in Kaito's final FTE, when Shuichi tells him about the murder case he solved that traumatized him, Kaito wonders why Shuichi is blaming himself or feeling bad and ends the conversation by telling that he'll punch everyone who will bother his sidekick.

We're near the end of the game and Shuichi is exactly the same as right after Kaede's death: blaming himself for the consequences of trials (Kaede's and Kaito's executions) that are the result of Kaede's own actions, (and Mugi's) or Kaito and Maki's own actions for the 5th trial, despite having gone through character development, despite Kaito's help, and I'm left thinking that... Kaito wasn't able to help him at all or solve his issues?

Given how much Kaito is lauded as a supporting figure, by the fandom, and by the writing (I lost count of how many times Shuichi says "Kaito you helped me so much...") this is really disappointing.

(I think there's also something to say about how the writing, with Kaito's character, encourages the player/Shuichi to hold Kaede and Kirumi or others accountable when Shuichi feels shitty about convicting them or having convicted them. And here, again Shuichi blames himself for Kaito's fate and... that amounts to nothing. There's no in-game commentary about Kaito and Maki's decisions whatsoever. It's even more surreal because Maki is in front of him as he's saying this and she could say something...)

...Frankly I feel terrible because everyone treats Kaito and Maki coming in Shuichi's life like some sort of blessing, and Shuichi's character development as the best thing, but... people are idealizing their friendships and what they accomplished for each other a lot. I feel terrible for Shuichi dammit he's hating himself forever

I've talked about this in the past, actually, and I still agree with what I said:

Kaito never actually tangibly helped Shuichi or developed his character positively, the trio is over-hyped with little canon substance to back up how the fandom sees them, and the only meaningful impact (lasts longer than 5 minutes) we can actually see Kaito actually have on Shuichi's character are all negative traits which are not only harmful to Shuichi and the cast but actively retcon his prior (good) development and unmake all the lessons he has previously learned that other characters had to literally die to teach him, wasting their sacrifices (and a chunk of our time) entirely.

Narratively, emotionally, and logically Kaito degrades Shuichi's character and destroys any potential he might have had both as a character in need of development (seriously how could you flop on the main protagonist's development holy shit) and as an apprentice detective trying to learn how to do his job better or else everyone will die.

[saturnznct]

daddy daughter time | lyy

➸ request; hi could you make a fluff about yangyang? his newborn daughter wakes up in the night time hungry and they have some daddy daughter time

➸ note; omg whaaat?? sadie actually posting?? lol i hope you like this!!

➸ word count; 820 words

➸ julia; six weeks old

nct masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Yangyang’s not surprised that you sleep through the sound of your baby monitor. It’s been six weeks since Julia was born, and to say she was fussy was an understatement. She cried often and for long periods of time, and sometimes it was such a struggle to figure out what it was that she wanted. You especially were incredibly sleep deprived, as you were breastfeeding through the night, something Yangyang couldn’t really help with. Once she was around five weeks old you started pumping milk, partly on Yangyang’s insistence that he wanted to help you feed late at night. It turned out to be a great idea, because Yangyang noticed you had been sleeping a bit better with his input.

Yangyang’s eyes wrench open, and focus on the screen of the baby monitor. He saw Julia writhing around in her cot. You’re asleep next to the monitor, nose scrunched up slightly, as if you could sense the disturbance but were too deep in sleep to properly acknowledge it.

Yangyang rolls out of bed, slightly cringing at the gust of cold air that hits him, and quickly makes his way to Julia’s nursery.

‘I know baby, I’m here,’ Yangyang lifts her up from her crib, holding her close to his chest.

She still cries, even after a few minutes of bouncing.

‘Maybe you’re hungry,’ Yangyang murmurs.

He brings her downstairs with him while he grabs a bottle of milk from the fridge, sticking it in the microwave.

‘Shh,’ he carries on bouncing her, admiring her cute little buttoned nose and tiny flailing hands.

Yangyang sings quietly for the forty-five seconds or so it takes for the bottle to heat up, again trying to lull his girl to sleep, but to no avail. The microwave finally dings, and Yangyang is quick to grab it. He wanders back up the stairs into Julia’s nursery, settling into an armchair, which was more for you but he was sure you wouldn’t mind.

‘Comfy?’ He asks his daughter, ‘eat up.’

Yangyang lets his head roll back, mostly in pure tiredness, shutting his eyes to rest them.

‘You’re an angel Jules, but my god you make me so tired,’ he breathes, suppressing the yawn clawing up his throat.

'I could go to sleep right now. I really could. But you’re more important than that right now. In fact, you’re more important than me or my needs all the time. The moment I saw you were more important than anyone. I promise I’ll put you before myself everyday for the rest of my life. I love you Jules.’

The one month old just stares back at him, tears from a few minutes ago still shining in her big brown eyes.

‘You’re so pretty. Just like your mother.’

Yangyang’s eyes are so heavy, drooping shut. He sits in silence for the remainder of Julia’s feed, trying to fight the appealing idea of falling asleep in the arm chair.

Julia eventually pulls away from the nearly empty milk bottle, indicating to Yangyang she was full and done with her milk.

‘You’re so clever Jules, good girl,’ he smiles, moving her so she’s laying on his chest and laying her head over his shoulder.

He hums a random tune while he pats her back, waiting for the all too familiar burp sound.

‘Good girl,’ he mutters as she grunts. Not long later, he hears her splutter, a telltale sign that she’s spit up.

When they come face to face again, she’s drooling milk, and Yangyang grabs a cloth from the changing table to wipe it away with.

‘Are you wanting to go back to sleep now?’

Yangyang has found that of the only ways to get Julia to sleep lately is to lull her to sleep by singing. If he sings softly and quietly enough, her eyes will droop and suddenly she’ll be dead to the world.

‘What song are you wanting daddy to sing, sweetheart? You have a lot of options.’

Julia yawns, her eyes becoming glazed over with tears of tiredness.

‘How about beautiful?’

She gurgles in response, and Yangyang takes it as a yes.

‘Ok, lets get it.’

You giggle when you hear him say that over the baby monitor, rolling over and trying to go back to sleep.

‘Those stars that shine when the night falls, that sun that only leaves behind the sunset glow, they all have their unique colors, beautiful, beautiful, yeah. Why is it that, when everything in the world takes its right place, it shines more beautifully? You are enough just the way you are, beautiful, beautiful you are.’

Julia’s eyes have fluttered shut at her fathers quiet singing, alongside the warmth of being in his arms.

Yangyang sings a couple more lines before trailing off, content that his efforts are now over. His daughters breathing has evened out, soft snores filling the room.

‘Goodnight, Jules, I’ll see you in the morning, angel.’