#ok ill be honest this is so self indulgent

[wickjump]

(oh wow, ok, no anon, uhhhh 'nervous sweating)

I keep seeing lil snippet of writings you do but like, where do I read em? Or are they, like, just for you fics. Which us cool too but you have really good interpretations of sum my favorite guys and I think your fics would be neat to read 👉👈

oh hahahaaaah. yeah uh the reason theyre all snippets is because i have one weakness: finishing things

thats right folks. literally eveyrhting i make that isnt currently posted on my ao3 (aka one singular terrible old awful bad fic) is unfinished. painfully so, even. surprise

im being so honest id post so much more writing if i ever actually finished any of it. i ache to show yall my writing because it sucks when you make something and cant go "hey look what i just did" to everyone around you. unfortunately a collection of scrambled sentences isnt much to post about and the things ive already posted about are still unfinished to this day sadly. if you want to post about something you have to, like, actually do it?? which is SO sick and twisted. but whagever

anyway I REALLY APPRECIATE THIS ASK??? like this made me smile when i first got it and proceeded to forget to answer because i was really busy,,, made me smile seeing it again too :3 ill try to get some snippets out at least for you in the near future !! i am glad you like my brain thoughts. very appreciate

currently the only fics of mine close to completion are: cross gets horror film'd, cheesy kross thing, and cross gets put in the wringer again sorry. none of the cool ones just self indulgence three times in a row :( ill finish better writing stuff one day i promsie... maybe...

[bluedeedeedoop]

EEE thanks @jedimasterbailey for the tag!! I haven't written much in a while BUT I DO PLAN ON IT so i shall do this cuz it seems fun!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

only 5 works honestly ahaha- tbf i only started posting stuff a couple years back and writing is not my major strength if im being honest

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

ok i did the math its only 13,859 which honestly not bad but could be better

3. What fandoms do you write for?

as of now mostly just star wars, ive written for another in the past tho

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Painting can wait (153), Crumbling walls (98), Love you anyways (72), Cassandra finally snaps(67), Me and you and awkward silence (26)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I REALLY TRY TO AND I LOVE EVERY SINGLE cOMMENT I GET AND I LOVE SEEING THE EMAILS POP UP! but it usually takes me some time cuz im typically only logged in on my computer

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

girl idefk- i think the closest ive came to angst was crumbling walls but even then- i dont write as much as i should tbh

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i loooooove love u anyways (even if u hate tea) cuz whyYyyy nOooot

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not that im aware of! ill take it

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do i have just not posted any aHA- it is all mostly self indulgent lesbian porn i wake up in the middle of the night to type out on my phone.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i do not and so far do not plan to write any

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i have not

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have not but i would love to!

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

FUCKING BARRISSOKA LETS GO BITCHES (barriss offee/ahsoka tano)

14. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

.....no comment.

15. What are your writing strengths?

smut. i like adding unnecessary details and i love writing characters in romantic peril. i cant think of any others forgive me.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

plot building and planning woop

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

never done it but im open to the idea!

18. First fandom you wrote for?

...rapunzel's tangled adventure.

19.) Favorite fic you’ve written?

girl idefk, all i know is that i needa go back to my recents and fix random space bar presses and spacing errors ive made

no pressure tags: @kaaragen @kalevalakryze @devondeal

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 49. I have a few options for #50…

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 299,440. Ok, I hadn’t realized I was that close. Now, my answer to #1 might be “a new 560-word drabble.”

3. What fandoms do you write for? I’m nearly exclusively writing for Avatar: Legend of Korra, with a little bit of Last Airbender, where it fits in.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Rainstorm - Su is there for Lin, for once. 2. The Well of Need - My first long-form story, with Lin taking care of Kya. 3. This is My Anchor - A mid-sized Kyalin story where Lin doesn’t make Kya take care of her. 4. I’m Sorry I Need You - An angsty one-shot that fits with a couple others in the “marriage is hard” domain. 5. Walk With Me - A longer-than-intended one-shot variant on a Tumblr joke.

5. Do you respond to comments? I do, as soon as I can. Sometimes, that means getting off work. Sometimes, that means giving a response as meaningful as the comment was to me. 

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? For complete stand-alone stories, that is likely Something Changed, where the last words are usually joyous. I can’t find the link for the worst-worst ending I have, so just pretend that never happened.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The happiest ending? I like my happy endings, so this is tough. But I think I’ll go for Elemental Changes, because that launched my collaboration with @slowdissolve on Red Jade.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not hate, exactly. One reader informed me that I had ‘let them down’ on a follow-up story because I didn’t write the story that was in their head. 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I’ve done a little, but it hasn’t been a focus for me. And, aside from the polyamory aspect, it’s all as vanilla as it comes.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Not unless you count LOK + ATLA a crossover, which I don’t.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to date.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? @slowdissolve and I wrote Moonsigns together, and we published two versions. One is told in first-person language and color coded, on Tumblr. We then followed it up with a more traditional third-person version that does not rely on color, on AO3.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Kyalin is where everything opened up for me. 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I’m taking quite the long view of all of this. I haven’t added to Their Sacred Year in a while, but have the outline for the next installment, so I don’t consider it abandoned.

16. What are your writing strengths? Folks seem to like my dialogue and plotting.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I struggle with the final rising action / climax / falling action, to keep the pacing appropriate to the story.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I don’t plan on it, given I am uneducated in the languages appropriate to this setting. 

19. First fandom you wrote for? Legend of Korra.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Saving the hardest for last. Naming the favorite child. Ok, fine. In that case, I’ll have to choose <wrestles with self> Elemental Changes (see #7), mostly because it’s a completely off-the-wall idea that I was able to see through and complete. And to have Slowdissolve illustrate the ending was an absolute capstone.

So I get to thank both @krastbannert and @wishingforatypewriter for their invitations!

Now, it's time to throw the floor open to folks like @yell0wsalt, @dont-blame-it-on-the-kids, @linguini17, @frogblast-the-ventcore, @badlucksav, @cdlunee, and of course,

you.

[jaekaicx]

remember how it was a popular hc that sasha would cut his hair short after true colors?

well, why wait?

hc that sasha cuts her hair while shes on the run w grime during toad catcher, partially to try to hide his identity, but also bc hes going through some shit

and then he cuts his hair again later once she and grime make the resistance, bc sasha gave herself a shitty sword haircut and the resistance has a hairstylist so its about time she got his hair fixed

[butchviking]

dysphoria is a bastard. i hate it. coping tips?

ok first off. i am not coping

i mean theres all the usual. get strong, see your body as something useful to you and AS you, rather than something to look at. sometimes introspection helps, like ok WHY do i feel this way abt this part of my body and is there anything i can do to counteract that. but tbh sometimes u just hit a wall w that like. ok well i figured out WHY i feel like shit. doesnt do much 2 change it tho. idk everyone is different and everyone’s dysphoria is different and these are things ppl always say have helped them. but i will b totally honest they’ve never done more than placate mine for a short while until it rears its head from some other corner i wasn’t looking at.

the most helpful advice i ever heard is about letting dysphoria come & go. let it pulse in & pulse out. don't do that thing where you let it build up inside you bc its familiar or bc u want to dwell or bc u have smthn to prove or whatever. which i truly think is the best advice for any mental illness nd is the absolute best way i’ve learned 2 cope w my other issues too. life has ups & downs illness has ups & downs and sometimes u gotta just roll w that u cant fight it. some times will suck and other times will not suck so bad and maybe sometimes u even forget its there at all for a little moment! it’s nice to think ‘i know we can get well’ its nice to think someday u will magically overcome all ur issues but for myself at least i think it’s healthier to acknowledge that. some things dont just go away some things are with you for a long long time or even for your entire life. and there’s not much u can do about that except find a way to live with it.

i think personally i took a hard turn a few years go from being trans & embracing the dysphoria & letting it get so big & ugly bc i’d tied my identity into it, to like. finding gendercrit theory, questioning the reasons for my dysphoria, doing some work to alleviate it somewhat, feeling a bit better for a while and thinking oh! looks like i fixed it! i don’t even feel that bad anymore! self-undiagnosing im fine now!! :) which is. one of the dumbest things i couldve done bc then when it DID start 2 rear its head again i was just pushing it down nd being like ‘no we dont indulge that anymore :) im fine im normal now :)’ as though u can just make a mental illness go away if u try real hard and believe in urself. so u gotta not let it build up inside u into a big ugly thing, not indulge it & become friends w it but also acknowledge when it is there and don’t think u can just magic it away. let it ebb & flow let it pulse thru you and then let it go.

[dirtytransmasc]

QPR

Ok, so to start I have to say, I'm pro-ZellerGraham in the context that it's before the show's timeline. I think it adds something to the dynamic.

it made me think, and I have a headcanon/theory; it ended really fucking messy. like they were both wound up with stress, mental illness, teen-turning-young adult angst. they took it out on each other cause they're both idiots, they didn't have anywhere else to deal with their problems, and I have a feeling will was not good at communication. then there's the internalized homophobia that is and was (much more so) at the time. basically, to put it simply, it ended in tears, things that shouldn't have been said, and maybe even some blood.

but they didnt hate each other, they're actually pretty smart despite being dumbasses. after it was all said and done, they recognized that it was more of 'wrong place wrong time' than hating each other. that if they could actually talk to each other, they wouldn't have been so pent up and angry, they could have stayed together. but they feel like they should hate eachother. brian definitely falls for dating tropes since he can't fathom being any more of an 'other' than being queer. Will being so socially inept that he depends on the 'norms' for something like dating.

so they create this rivalry, brian starts dating Freddie just to get rid of all the energy he has, but all that does is make it seem like he's moved on (he hasn't) and will is pissed. Will stops functioning, his sole reason to leave his house is gone, so he shuts down in his house with his dogs. they find every opportunity to bicker, to fight, to break each other's balls. and it doesn't feel right, doesn't fix the feeling they both have.

they have a love that lingers, not the type of love that makes you want to date or fuck. It's the type of love that makes you want to protect someone, to be near someone, to exist knowing they're ok. because the way things ended that's all they could worry about, how the other was. they longed to talk again after everything, but they felt like they weren't allowed to.

thats why all their bickering feels so empty or forced most of the time (in my opinion) like even when they get intense/harsh with the insults, it feels detached. they both seem guilty after it, under the protective mask they wear.

so in summary, I could totally see a scene where Will is in some sort of peril, and brian is one of the first to just cheer him on, and beg him to keep fighting because he cares. because he never wanted to hate him and every day, since they broke up, has been hell, and please for the love of fuck Will you can't give up now, you aren't allowed to leave me here feeling like this. I'm sorry, you've wanted to hear that for so long right? I will say it a million times, as long as you fight, that's all you have to do. you're good at that, I know you are, shithead.

(and jimmy's watching on, just barely knowing the two used to date and just letting brian get it out of his system cause it's been pent up in his chest for so long. like he doesn't care at all what brian and will have going on, as long as brian is open and honest with him everything is cool and chill {poly vibes})

anyways this is more of a self-indulgent headcanon, so if you don't like it, ignore it.

[ssavanessa22]

Supermodel

Warnings: I don’t think there is any other than assumption of sex so 16+ but like it’s super brief but other than that FLUFFFF

A/N: this will forever be the most self indulgent fic I’ve ever written I think the only reason I started writing was the make this one shot 😭😭

That was amazing like really  Y/N"

After months of pining and worrying and looking from afar being in bed with Spencer doesn't feel real it feels like a dream.

"I'm glad we finally had time to this to be honest cause I've been really horny for like the past 2 weeks"

I started cackling, "Jesus Spencer you didn't have to say that"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry he said whilst laughing, hey"

"What Spence"

"Let's go shower"

"Uhhhh yeah yeah sure"

I lifted my legs off of the bed and began to walk to the bathroom, however, all the pent up soreness from my legs hit me like a truck as I tried to get out of bed.

"shit Spence can you help me get to the bathroom" he looked at me confused at first

"why would you need help going to the bathroom?" I looked at him gesturing to my legs

"Spence I know your a genius and everything but your lack of common sense amazes me all the time," I said whilst laughing.

"ohhhh yeah, yeah I'm sorry let me come help you"

he lifted me whilst we were both giggling and led me into the bathroom and sat me on the toilet seat. he walked into the shower turning it on letting the water get hot.

"hey y/n"

"yeah, Spence?"

"can I wash your hair? I mean you don't have to say yes I mean you can just wear that thing what's it called again the thing you and tara where when you guys have sleepovers at Garcia's"

"do you mean a bonnet Spence"

"yeah a bonnet"

"I mean unless you have a whole day of cause washing my hair takes like the whole day to do so you don't have to worry about that", I dismissed him in a jokey manner

okay then if your whole hair routine takes the whole day it will take the whole day I don't mind, I mean I know we've only been dating for a few months and we only just slept with each other last night but uno you've washed my hair ad I wanna return the favour"

I was partly shocked but also not surprised at the same time spencer loves to learn especially when it's about the people he cares about

"yeah ok let me just undo my cornrows and them ill get in the shower okay"

"uhhh yeah yeah sure" he said trying to hid his excitement

siting on the toilet seat i undid my braids and and used by tangle teezer to detangle my hair

"so when I researched about black hair read about different hair textures, now from looking at the different hair products in your bathroom like the cantu apple cider co-wash, the protein hair masks, hair oils, camillie rose shampoo and edge control I would guess that your a 4a/b. you probably struggle with your hair not being as healthy as you would problay want because we travel so much causing you not to have proper hair care. You like to rotate between having briads, faux locs and wigs it makes your hair easier to take care of because our jobs are so demanding."

i was in utter shock he had read my hair to filth but it was sweet i mean he did all this research for me and i didn't even ask him, god i was already falling for him before but now this I'm bascily in love already.

as we both stepped into the shower i said "spence you didn't have to do all of that i could have just told you if you asked"

"yeah i mean sure i could have asked but you probably always have people asking you and if I'm gonna be your boyfriend and you basically know everything about me already the bare minium i can do is research on my own, and i love reader so it was no prob-"

I interrupted his speech my placing a sweet and tender kiss on his lips he was caught of guard at first but began to reciprocate the kiss, as he slowly started to trail his hands around my body deeping the kiss and pushing us both into the water as i snacked my arms around his neck tugging at the nape of his hair whilst bitting his bottom lip. He started to dominate the kiss moving from my lips to my jaw going to my plus point. I moaned into his ears as he began to trail his hands to grip my hips. quickly i pulled myself away from him smiling at him.

"spencer" i said breathing heavily

"yep whats the problem?" he said whilst peppering kisses all over my neck and face

"i still need to wash my hair" i saidwhilst moving closer to the shower head, he chuckled

"yeah okay ill stop but i did wanna give you some advice and yes if may be unsolicited as a white guys who doesn't really take care of his hair but you buy travel versions of your hair products so you can have a hair routine even when we travel."

spence your amazing and your a wonderful man i hope you know that

his face mrophed into a massive smile "you've told me a couple of times"

"okay so my hair has shrunk about 10x smaller do you wanna wash it?"

"yes yes! i would love that" he took the shampoo form my shower floor and massaged the shampoo into my head scrubbing my head but somehow being gental whikst still cleaning my hair well, he washed the shampoo out the repeated the process again. he then grabbed the conditioner and lathered it on my hair.

"hey can you pass me the denman brush?"

"yeah sure spence"

he began to brush and detangle my hair with the conditioner still in it everyone once in a while massaging my scalp whilst gently kissing my face n between.

i know that we haven't been going out for a while but i really like you y/n and your hair i love your hair.

"gigglering i asked which one do you like more me or my hair?"

"easy answer your hair"

[hazbincalifornia]

Amount of writing I’m getting done for OT and my IZ fic: Some.

Amount of writing I’m getting done for self-indulgent bullshit: Somewhat more.

Anyway, wrote out Bella meeting Sir Pentious because I was bit by the muse bug. This is written for the four people who know who they both are, f.

Wordcount: 2075

The second she saw the airship soaring through the red-tinted sky, shooting anything that looked at it funny, Bella knew she had to get inside of it. Let Kit flirt with their host (or, if she was honest, fail to flirt with, man, she didn’t even like flirting and even she knew that he turned into a pile of goopy mush when he was around a guy he thought was cute) and let Vee attempt to kidnap yet another animal to try and smuggle home, she wanted to find out who the heck made a steam-powered airship in the twenty-first century.

Or maybe Hell was actually stuck in the year 1900, who knew? Time probably passed funny in the afterlife, but the fact that nobody had shot them out of the sky yet said that there was something else afoot- the pilot had to have some way of warding off attacks considering rivals probably had, like, grenade launchers, and she wanted to find out how. Style merged with substance, ruling the air with confidence- and she wanted in. 

“Hey! Hey you!” She flagged down somebody with four arms and purple fur who looked short enough to be less likely to punt her into orbit- Mom had warned that most people down here were mean as, well, Hell- and pointed up at the ship. “What’s the deal with those?”

“You a newly dead?” The demon raised one of their four eyes, and Bella nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, newly dead. Anyway. Story?”

“They’re made by Sir Pentious, one of the Overlords. He’s some kinda inventor, I’unno. Never blew up anything that mattered to me, so I never cared that much.”

“Sir Pentious…” She rolled the name around in her mouth, plucking the ‘T’ in the middle thoughtfully along with the rubber bands wrapped around her braces. “Got it. Thanks!”

“Er- you’re welcome.” They darted off, but that was fine. Now it was just a matter of actually getting onboard.

____________

She couldn’t find a rocket pack anywhere- lousy Hell lagging behind Earth technologically- but ended up stumbling across the next best thing in a warehouse that had an extra ship that had clearly been in some sort of accident. This one was only partially-reassembled, and there was a lot of burn damage sustained to the aluminum and copper outside, but that just meant that she could see the skeleton without having to slice through a lot of layers, so it was almost better- and a lot easier to crawl in one of the big holes in the front window via a pile of parts in front of it.

The interior was decorated like a mansion, with vivid yellows, reds, and blacks- she could respect the commitment to the aesthetic, especially with torn-open snakesheds and red eyeballs plastered everywhere. It looked like something out of Mom’s old comic book collection, toxic and yet intoxicating, every detail chosen for maximum dramatic potential. It must look even better with all the lights on and more than her phone’s flashlight illuminating bits at a time.

It was the best playground that she could imagine- nothing but her and a massive ship the size of an apartment building. Oddly enough, there wasn’t much dust- maybe it had crashed recently and was being held here for repairs? It was certainly of a similar design to the one that she’d seen from the ground, so she couldn’t imagine that it wasn’t just an iteration or two away.

Her fingers ran over the sleek machinery like it was sacred- some of it looked like it belonged in a museum, but the rest was cutting edge, and the seamless way they blended was like something out of a dream. A genius indeed- if she’d been born a hundred years ago and was suddenly thrust into the modern day, she could only hope that her tech would look this good. There was room for improvement of course, there always was, but it was loads better than most of what she saw digging through the junkyard, and a lot closer to the stuff she made with Grandpa Zim using his irken tech. Impressive for someone who’d clearly been dead for some time, considering he’d made enough of a name for himself that some rando off the street knew it.

“Genius inventor, huh…?” Bella pulled out her screwdriver, starting to work on freeing the control panel. It had a touchscreen and levers, what was that about? She had to know what it looked like underneath- did Hell even use cables and wires or was she going to need to drag Kit in to do his magic business here?

It took some doing- whatever had taken this particular ship down had welded the panel into place and it took a crowbar to pry off, ha, take that Venus for saying she ‘didn’t need to bring it’- but eventually she got into the guts of the thing. Sure enough, it was wiring, spiraled all into itself in a knot- it must have gotten all messed up at some point, maybe that was what caused the crash on top of whatever burnt the outside? 

She was about to start taking it apart when she heard a pitter-patter behind her.

“I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it, ya know,” she said, rummaging around in her pocket before pulling it out. “Mom insisted I bring the one that can vaporize people since apparently half of you can’t even die the normal way anyway? Bunch of freaks.” Her finger twitched towards the trigger as the pitter-patter became a shadow as the thing scrambled up towards the same hole she’d come in. “I’m warning you, I’m a great shot. Won’t take two to blow your brains out.”

“Whoever you are, bossman says you gotta go!” 

It was an egg. Not like some kind of insult, it was literally an egg, and probably a third of her size. It was also wearing a little hand-tailored suit and top hat. She stared down at it, and it stared up at her. 

“Who’s bossman?” Bella asked after a few very long seconds of silence.

“You know… bossman!” It blinked. “He doesn’t like people pokin’ around his cool, cool stuff and you tripped the motion sensor. Hey, is that a ray gun?”

Bella’s finger eased off the trigger. “Yeah, it is. It can probably scramble you.”

“Oooh! Fun! Not as good as boss’s, I’m sure, but-”

“Hey, what say you take me to this boss?” Bella crouched down, knowing this was incredibly stupid but also already entirely committed to it. “Then he can decide what to do with me in person.”

“Hmm… alright, but no funny business!” The egg looked her up and down before turning heel, starting to clamor down the pile of parts. She had to hold back a snort when she saw that it had ‘#69’ written on its back.

Some things never changed no matter where you went.

____________

The egg blabbered on all the way back to the ship, mostly about jazz music oddly enough, but soon enough they were nearing a different ship that had settled behind a building. It was either the one she’d seen before or a duplicate, and she felt a shiver run up her spine as she got close- it looked a lot cooler in one piece and lit up bright yellow. Her phone buzzed, and she discreetly pulled it out as the egg launched into a diatribe on the importance of the saxophone. It was a text from her sister. 

dolittle 🐭: bells where ARE you

dolittle 🐭: kits distracting clove so I could grab one of those bugdog things but moms gonna be asking how were doing soon, what should I say

Bella thought for a moment before sending back a reply. ‘im checking out that airship we saw earlier. have weapons. ill be fine. meet you back at the cafe later’

dolittle 🐭: be careful ok? know you can handle it but still

Bella smiled a little at that, sending a thumbs up before tucking her phone back into her pocket as they ascended the bridge.

“And then, then he saysss to me, he sayssss- Ah, there you are! Good, good.” She heard him before she saw him, voice booming as he welcomed his hench-egg back. “And what was poking around the warehouse?”

“This, boss!” The egg tugged at her jeans by the knee around the corner before pushing her forward with surprising force. “They said they wanted to see you!”

“Well well well!” 

Bella’s antennae twitched as her eyes widened. The man in front of her was a jet black snake, with fangs, a top hat, a bowtie, and eyes on his face as well as nestled on the open space on his chest and hood. Best she could pin from Venus’s nature lectures he was a cobra of some sort, and there was a smug fang-y grin on his face as he slithered up to her, taking advantage of the height that his tail gave him- he’d probably be seven feet easy to Bella’s mere five foot one. 

It took her only a moment to shake off her awe. “So you’re the famous Sir Pentious!”

His grin widened. “Ah! You’ve heard of me, little tresssspassser?” 

“Obviously, considering I knew your name, right?”

“Er- yes!��� He faltered for just a moment, and she went in for the kill.

“Your work’s fantastic, but you really need a way to keep the gutty stuff in order in case of a hit- that’s probably part of why that other ship went down, y’know? But your sense of design and how you mold your century-old designs with the new stuff- it’s fantastic, I just want to cut it all open and see how it works.”

“What did you do?” His hood flared, and she twirled the gun in her hands.

“I only touched the control panel, and your little egg boy got at me before I messed with anything, but I’d give anything for a couple of days working on the interior of this place- I bet I could make it run faster and with less fuel.”

The eye on his hat rolled itself as he narrowed the eyes on his face. “Who are you to come in and think you know better than I about my own shipssss? I should end you right here for your insolence and your trespassing!”

Bella folded her arms, glancing around. “Hmm… far left column, the one with a yellow eye instead of a red one.”

“What about it?” He folded his arms as well, waggling his head. “Are you-”

“It’s welded weird. Something went wrong with the metal when it was being forged, so you put it in the back so you wouldn’t have to look at it. You didn’t want to waste a perfectly good column because somebody screwed up one little part. And that’s just what I see looking around in, like, five seconds- gah!” The end of his tail had wrapped around behind her while she’d been talking, and struck before she finished her sentence, lifting her up to his eye-level with her arms pinned to her sides.

“Little wrench! How dare you?” 

“I’m…” Her legs kicked a little, ribs feeling uncomfortably bendy at the moment as his scales pressed against her chest and back. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

His tongue darted out as he hissed, just barely brushing her nose before sliding back into his mouth.

“What do you really want, missy? I don’t like competition, you know.”

“You to let me breathe, for one,” she wheezed, fingers turning to try tickling what she could reach, and his cheek twitched funny before she dropped bodily to the floor, only managing to roll in time thanks to muscle memory from combat training. Thanks, Grandpas. “I really do just wanna see how all your stuff works. The ways I could improve my own inventions if I just could figure out how to blend different functionalities the way that you do...”

“I am quite impresssssive, aren’t I?” He puffed up his chest a bit. “And you have no intention to-”

Bella drew an X over her chest. “Cross my heart. You’re the bossman.”

He looked her up and down. “Hmm. Get back to me when you have a proper uniform and not those ragssss, and I suppose I could show you around a bit, if- if!- you show me something of yourssss.  ”

Bella’s grin slipped into a smirk as she gave a bow. “Bella Donna at your service, then, Sir Penny.”

[serialreblogger]

You want to talk more about the bigotry in Harry Potter? Go ahead! I've actually heard stuff like that before, but have yet to do much research on it personally and it's been a while since I read it, so I'm interested.

WELL

Before we begin I should start with a disclaimer: this analysis will be dedicated to examining as many bigoted aspects of Harry Potter’s writing as I can think of, so--while I personally am more or less comfortable balancing critical evaluation with enjoyment of a piece, and strongly advocate developing your own abilities to do the same--I know not everyone is comfortable reading/enjoying a story once they realize its flaws, and again, while I think it’s very important to acknowledge the flaws in culturally impactful stories like Harry Potter, I also know for some people the series is really really important for personal reasons and whatnot. 

So! If you’re one of those people, and you have trouble balancing critical engagement with enjoyment, please feel free to skip this analysis (at least for the time being). Self-care is important, and it’s okay to find your own balance between educating yourself and protecting yourself.

On another note, this is gonna be limited strictly to morally squicky things to do with Rowling’s writing and the narrative itself. Bad stuff characters do won’t be talked about unless it’s affirmed by the narrative (held up as morally justified), and plot holes, unrealistic social structures, etc. will not be addressed (it is, after all, a kid’s series, especially in the first few books. Quidditch doesn’t have to make sense). This is strictly about how Rowling’s personal biases and bigotry impacted the story and writing of Harry Potter.

Sketch Thing #1: Quirrell! I don’t see a lot of people talking about Quirrell and racism, but I feel like it’s a definite thing? Quirinus Quirrell is a white man who wears a turban, gifted to him by an “African prince” (what country? where? I couldn’t find a plausible specific when I was researching it for a fic. If there’s a country which has current/recent royalty that might benevolently interact with someone, and also a current/recent culture where turbans of the appropriate style are common, I couldn’t find it). Of course, it wasn’t actually given to him by an African prince in canon, but it’s still an unfortunate explanation.

More importantly, ALL the latent Islamophobia/xenophobia in the significance of the turban. Like, look at it.

“Man wears turban, smells like weird spices, turns out to be concealing an evil second face under the turban” really sounds like something A Bit Not Good, you know? If you wanted to stoke the flames of fear about foreignness, it would be hard to do it better than to tell children about a strange man who’s hiding something horrible underneath a turban.

Also, Quirrell’s stutter being faked to make you think he was trustworthy is a very ableist trope, and an unfortunately common one. “Disability isn’t actually real, just a trick to make you accommodate and trust them” is not a great message, and it’s delivered way too often by mass media. (Check out season 1 of the Flash for another popular example.)

Sketch Thing #2: The goblins. Much more commonly talked about, in my experience, which is good! The more awareness we have about the messages we’re getting from our popular media, the better, in my view. 

For those who haven’t encountered this bit of analysis before: the goblins in Harry Potter reek of antisemitic stereotypes. Large ears, small eyes, crooked noses, green/gray skin, lust for money, control of the banks, and a resentful desire to overthrow the Good British Government? Very reminiscent of wwii propaganda posters, and in general the hateful rhetoric directed towards Jewish people by other European groups from time immemorial. 

I’m also extremely uncomfortable with how goblin culture is handled by Rowling in general. Like, the goblins were a people that were capable of using magic, but prohibited by the British government from owning wands. That was never addressed. They also had a different culture around ownership, which is why Griphook claimed that the sword of Gryffindor belonged rightfully to the goblins--a gift isn’t passed down to descendants upon death, but instead reverts to the maker. This cultural miscommunication is glossed over, despite the fact that it sounds like Griphook’s voicing a very real, legitimate grievance.

To be honest, apart from the antisemitism, the way Goblin culture is treated by the narrative in Harry Potter is very uncomfortably reminiscent to me of how First Nations were treated by English settlers in North America, before the genocide really got started. The Goblins even have a history of “rebellions,” which both raises the question of why another species is ruling them to begin with, and more significantly, is eerily reminiscent of the Red River Rebellion in Canada (which, for the record, wasn’t actually a rebellion--it was Metis people fighting against the Canadian government when it tried to claim the land that legally, rightfully belonged to the Metis. But that’s another story)

In sum: I Don’t Like the implications of how Rowling treats the goblins.

Sketch Thing #3: Muggles. Ok because we’re all “muggles” (presumably) and because I’m white, talking about this might rapidly degenerate into thinly-veiled “reverse racism” discourse, so please y’all correct me if I stray into that kind of colossal stupidity. However, I am not comfortable with the way non-magical humans are treated by Rowling’s narrative.

The whole premise of Harry Potter is that Evil Wizards Want To Hurt The Muggles, right? Except that it’s not. Voldemort’s goal is to subjugate the inferior humans, rule over non-magical people as the rightful overlords, but that’s hardly mentioned by the narrative. Instead, it focuses on the (also egregious and uncomfortably metaphorical) “blood purism” of wizarding culture, and how wizards would be persecuted for their heritage.

But muggles, actual muggles, are arguably the ones who stand to lose the most to Voldemort, and they’re never notified of their danger. We, the muggles reading it, don’t even really register that we’re the collateral damage in this narrative. Because throughout the series, muggles are set up as laughingstocks. Even the kindest, most muggle-friendly wizards are more obsessed with non-magical people as a curiosity than actually able to relate to them as people. 

I dunno, friends, I’m just uncomfortable with the level of dehumanization that’s assigned to non-magical humans. (Like, there’s not even a non-offensive term for them in canon. There’s “muggle,” which is humorously indulgent at best and actively insulting at worst, and there’s “squib,” which is literally the word for a firework that fails to spark.) It’s not like “muggles” are actually a real people group that can be oppressed, and like I said this kind of analysis sounds a bit like the whining of “reverse racism” advocates where the powerful majority complains about being insulted, but... it kind of also reeks of ableism. People that are not able to do a certain cool, useful thing (use magic) are inherently inferior, funny at best and disposable at worst. They suffer and die every day from things that can easily be cured with magic, but magic-users don’t bother to help them, and even when they’re actively attacked the tragedy of hundreds dying is barely mourned by the narrative. 

It gives me bad vibes. I don’t Love It. It sounds uncomfortably like Rowling’s saying “people that are unable to access this common skill are inherently inferior,” and that really does sound like ableism to me. 

Either way, there’s something icky about consigning an entire group of people to the role of “funny clumsy stupid,” regardless of any real-world connections there may or may not be to that people group. Don’t teach children that a single genetic characteristic can impact someone’s personhood, or make them inherently less worthy of being taken seriously. Just, like... don’t do that.

Sketch Thing #4: The house elves. Everyone knows about the house elves, I think. The implications of “they’re slaves but they like it” and the only person who sees it as an issue having her campaign turned into a joke by the narrative (“S.P.E.W.”? Really? It might as well stand for “Stupidly Pleading for Expendable Workers”) are pretty clear.

Sketch Thing #5: Azkaban. Are we gonna talk about how wizarding prison involves literal psychological torture, to the point where prisoners (who are at least sometimes there wrongly, hence the plot of book 3) almost universally go “insane”? This is sort of touched on by the narrative--“dementors are bad and we shouldn’t be using them” was a strongly delivered message, but it was less “because torturing people, even bad people, is not a great policy” and more “because dementors are by their natures monstrous and impossible to fully control.” 

“This humanoid species is monstrous and impossible to control” is, once again, a very concerning message to deliver, and it doesn’t actually address the real issue of “prison torture is bad, actually.” Please, let’s not normalize the idea that prison is inherently horrific. Of course, prison as it exists in North America and Britain is, indeed, inherently horrific and often involves torture (solitary confinement, anyone?), but like--that’s a bad thing, y’all, it’s deeply dysfunctional and fundamentally unjust. Don’t normalize it.

Sketch Thing #6: Werewolves. Because Rowling explicitly stated that lycanthropy in her series is a metaphor for “blood-borne diseases like HIV/AIDS”. The linked article says it better than I could:

Rowling lumps HIV and AIDS in with other blood-borne illnesses, which ignores their uniquely devastating history. And Lupin’s story is by no stretch a thorough or helpful examination of the illness. Nor is its translation as an allegory easily understood, beyond the serious stigma that Rowling mentioned.

That Lupin is a danger to others could not more clearly support an attitude of justifiable fear toward him, one that is an abject disservice to those actually struggling with a disease that does not make them feral with rage.

This definitely ties into homophobia, given how deeply the queer community has been affected by HIV/AIDS. Saying a character with a condition that makes him an active threat to those around him is “a metaphor for AIDS” is deeply, deeply distressing, both for its implications about queer people and their safety for the general population, and for the way it specifically perpetuates the false belief that having HIV/AIDS makes a person dangerous.

Sketch Thing #7: Blood Ties. This isn’t, like, inherently sketch, but (especially for those of us with complicated relationships to our birth families) it can rub a lot of people the wrong way. Rowling talks a big talk about the folly of “blood purism,” but she also upholds the idea that blood and blood relations are magically significant. 

Personally, I’m very uncomfortable with the fact that Harry was left with an abusive family for his entire childhood, and it was justified because they were his “blood relatives.” I’ve had this argument with ultra-conservative family friends who genuinely believe it’s a parent’s right to abuse their child, and while I don’t think that’s what Rowling is saying, I do feel uncomfortable with the degree of importance she places on blood family. I’m uncomfortable with the narrative’s confirmation that it is acceptable (even necessary) to compromise on boundaries and allow the continuation of abuse because “it’s better for a child to be raised by their Real Family” than it is to risk them to the care of an unrelated parent.

Genetic relations aren’t half as important as Rowling tells us. For people with a bad birth family, this can be a damaging message to internalize, so I’ll reiterate: it’s a pretty thought, the love in blood, but it’s ultimately false. The family you build is more real, more powerful and more valid than any family you were assigned to by an accident of genes.

I can think of one or two more things, but they’re all a lot more debatable than what I have here--as it is, you might not agree with everything I’ve said. That’s cool! I’m certainly not trying to start a fight. We all have the right to read and interpret things for ourselves, and to disagree with each other. And again, I’m not trying to ruin Harry Potter. It’s honestly, as a series, not worse in terms of latent bigotry than most other books of its time, and better than many. It’s just more popular, with a much bigger impact and many more people analyzing it. I do think it’s important to critically evaluate the media that shapes one’s culture, and to acknowledge its shortcomings (and the ways it can be genuinely harmful to people, especially when it’s as culturally powerful as Harry Potter). But that doesn’t mean you can’t or shouldn’t enjoy it for what it was meant to be: a fun, creative, engaging story, with amazing characters, complex plots, heroism and inspiration for more than one generation of people. 

Enjoy Harry Potter. It is, in my opinion, a good series, worth reading and re-reading for enjoyment, even for nourishment. It’s also flawed. These things can both be true.

[eclecticlanie]

Child Spirit claps back!

OK! SOOOO. A little back story first. I left my first husband 10 years ago. I left EVERYTHING with him except my daughter. I use to write novels (never published), songs, poems, draw all sorts of artwork, and my clothes were my life (I was particular about my fashion choices). I left everything: books, original artworks, basically my soul and identity. When I left I did not write or do any art ever again. I had to focus on being a first time mother, go to work full time, and school full time. I had a new identity that left no time or room for who I was from that day forward.

 My Hubs (2nd husband) produces Drum and Bass music and has since he was a teen. I support and help him as much as I can doing whatever I can (singing, speaking, picking out sounds, synths, etc; telling him to remove certain things that don’t work well, so on so forth). He has always taken music seriously and wanted to go much further than he has with it in the past but has held himself back due to fears of being in public eyes and what the media could do to him. Understandable. 

We decided recently to go for it-to take this to the next level if we could. In this process, Hubs decides I need to unpack that 10 years of exiling my talents. He bought me a notebook and now hounds me to speak to him so he can write or have me write my own songs and poems again. I say hounds but really he is trying to inspire me and find me a muse, there is no true negative connotation on it. I am just naturally pessimistic. Hubs is most definitely an optimist and before anyone asks, yes, sometimes it makes me sick (figuratively). In reality we balance each other extremely well. I never have had a more healthy relationship with anyone other than my mother in my life with the exception being Hubs. He is my everything, next to our kids. 

So that brings us to today. We, Hubs and I, are in the kitchen. I am cooking ground beef to make tacos on the stove. We were talking about how I don’t like my voice on recording but I do like it raw and natural and how I don’t understand why I feel I sound different on recording versus not recording. I then decide we need to discuss what we want to change and not to change if we happen to go next level with this music endeavor. As I leave the stove and go into the fridge (literally the fridge is next to the stove so it is only one step away) to make a glass of soda, I ask, “If we do go next level what do we want to stay the same and what do we want to have change?”

I turn around with the soda bottle in hand to go to the counter where my glass is waiting and Hubs is standing. I see a child standing next to him that isn’t mine with sandy brown or sandy blonde hair down to its cheeks. I’m not entirely sure which would better describe the kids hair. I assume it’s a non-binary child right off the bat. This child scares the shit out of me. It was not there prior to this moment. I never have seen this child before in my life and it is standing next to Hubs. I let out a short loud scream upon seeing this child and at this exact moment the child swings it’s hand and hits my Hubs glass of soda out of his own hands. The glass went up then hit the floor. It did not shatter, break, or crack. It was in one piece. Soda was on my upper and lower cabinets, on the floor and the side of the stove. The child was gone. Vanished. 

“What was that?” Hubs looked at me. 

“I don’t know why i screamed like that.” I tried to rationalize with myself, “It was a child.”

I pour myself a glass of soda and go back to cooking. Hubs and I discuss what just happened and didn’t continue the previous conversation we were trying to have about our possible future. We agree to invite the ghost upstairs to have a conversation via tarot after we eat dinner. Tacos took maybe another 3 minutes to cook and construct. We ate at the stove and the kids ate at the dining table. So a whole ten minutes maybe passed before we ran upstairs and grabbed my Nightmare Before Christmas Tarot Deck, pendulum, and pendulum board. 

I’m sitting on the bed and my back is killing me. This spirit is sucking my energy to stay present so I can receive it’s message. I start shuffling and right out of the gate cards are spilling.

The first five:

1. XIX The Sun: 

Directly from the guidebook: 

“When cloudy skies pass, the sun comes out, shining warmth and happiness on everyone’s lives. The excitement, renewed energy, and joy Jack experiences when he discovers Christmas Town perfectly embody the energy of the Sun tarot card. 

Upright: If you’ve been sad or troubled lately, the Sun is a sign you’re about to feel a very positive shift in your life. Use this rejuvenating energy to reconnect with good friends and enjoy yourself. There’s so much enthusiasm in this tarot card. It signifies a powerful time for inspired brainstorming.” 

Interpretation: I believe this represents both the child I seen and the situation. The child had no ill or negative feeling. It was a joyful and happy child. As for the situation, the Sun is calling me out on how I’m very negative and down on myself and that positive things are happening in my life. I need to start removing myself from being pessimistic and join ‘Team Optimistic’ by following through and doing as my Hubs has been pushing me to do. 

2. XVIII The Moon (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“Moonlight illuminates Jack in the graveyard as he reflects on his feelings. The moon represents a great lament, the subconscious, and intuition.”

“Reversed: In order to move forward, you need to be honest about your feelings, with yourself and others. Expressing yourself will life a weight off your chest and get you out of a melancholy headspace. The Sun is about to come out, and a new day will bring new possibilities.” 

Interpretation: I was in the process of expressing my feelings on my voice right before the glass was thrown. I was being negative and hurtful to myself. The child did not like it and that is why they hit the glass to gain attention and to give me this message thus “the sun is about to come out”. I will be enlightened by the other side as to their feelings rather than focus on my own. 

3. X of Needles:

Directly from the guidebook:

“Upright: X of Needles indicates something is coming to a painful ending. Whether this refers to a friendship, relationship, project, or job, you may be left with heavy emotions. Give yourself time to grieve, but trust that it’s for the best. Fresh beginnings are ahead!”

Interpretation: The 10 years I am unpacking is the means to an end. The hurt will end. I’ve hurt myself enough. My talents no longer need to be buried and not used. They are valid and need to be expressed. They will bleed and feel rushed because the flood gates are now open.

4. Queen of Needles:

Directly from the guidebook: 

“Upright: The Queen of Needles is intelligent, intellectual, and sensible. She takes time to make up her own mind and isn’t easily swayed by trends, fads, or popular opinion. Fair and practical, the Queen of Needles shouldn’t be underestimated. This card is a call to remember how strong you really are.” 

Interpretation: The child is 

5. III of Needles (Reversed): 

Directly from the guidebook:

“Reversed: III of Needles reversed symbolizes coming to terms with the past It’s time to pluck the needles out of your heart, and let it heal. Nurse your wounds and go forward.”

Interpretation: I need to let myself move forward and not punish myself. I need to allow my gifts to thrive and be of use in my life. 

I decided to use the Pendulum board a little bit to confirm everything I had seen. I asked the spirit if I was correct with the sandy brown-blonde hair color. The pendulum swung ‘yes’. I continued, “Definitely not a red head then.” The crystal swung ‘no.’ “Is there more you want to tell me?” ‘Yes.’ I picked up the cards and started shuffling again. Five more cards popped out. 

6. IX The Hermit:

Directly from the guidebook:

“The Hermit is a thoughtful, introverted figure who likes to spend his time ruminating alone--like the Creature Under the Stairs.

Upright: Now’s the time to get inspired by example and withdraw for some quiet alone time. The Hermit calls for reflection, so do a bit of soul-searching. Consider your current position, goals, and dreams. Remember your past, and learn from it so you can bring those lessons with you into a successful future.”

Interpretation: The child wants me to really look deep into myself and accept who I am. 

7. III The Empress (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“The Empress is a maternal, nurturing figure who enjoys self-indulgence and life’s creature comforts. Our Empress is the Corpse Mom, who is often seen leading her child on a leash.”

“Reversed: Are you being too hard on yourself? You may have been feeling self-critical lately, but beating yourself up about perceived failures and flaws won’t help. Be patient, and give yourself room to make mistakes--they’re learning opportunities.”

Interpretation: I couldn’t have interpreted this card any other way than as they described. I needed to stop bullying myself. The child seemed very adamant with this message.

8. IX of Needles (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“Reversed: Has your confidence been dealt a blow recently? If you’re feeling low, you may be your own biggest bully. Start focusing on your positive qualities instead of fixating on your perceived negative ones. A shift in perspective is what’s needed to get you out of despair.”

Interpretation: Again, I couldn’t have interpreted this card any differently. I need to get my head out of my ass.

9. VI of Needles:

Directly from the guidebook:

“VI of Needles usually indicates you’ve been through a difficult time. Have you recently been in conflict with someone or experienced an unexpected setback? It’s time to pick up the pieces and get on track again.”

Interpretation: I need to make peace with myself, pick up the pieces I left behind and put them where they belong in my life-not outside of it.

10. Queen of Candles (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook: 

“Reversed: The reversed Queen of Candles lacks self-confidence. Have you been giving too much attention to the opinions of others? Don’t stifle your ideas and lose your voice. Make time for a bit of soul-searching, and express yourself. Don’t worry what others may think. You have so much to offer!”

Interpretation: Another hard one! All jokes aside, this child couldn’t have been more direct. I need to keep my opinion on myself out of the picture. I need to use my voice-literally. I need to see the value in me and gain confidence. 

I then started telling the spirit I really understood the first time around about their message. Hubs is half laughing at me that I got called out by a child ghost. I continue to state out loud that I understand I need to be nicer to myself and use my talents with the focus of the future in mind. I also state that my back is really starting to kill me and that i would like it to leave if it had nothing more to say. I start shuffling and what do you know... Five more cards...

11. XIIII Death (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook: 

“Death is often a feared tarot card, but that’s just because its misunderstood. It’s a card of transformation and transition-beginnings and endings. Like the creaky, old gates in Halloween Town’s cemetery, the Death tarot card is a spooky symbol of change and transformation.”

“Reversed: Are you putting off a life-changing decision? Resisting change is impossible and will only cause harm in the long run. Letting go of the familiar can be tough, but trust that accepting transition will make way for positive, fresh beginnings.”

Interpretation: Clearly a change is coming. Whether it be my attitude about myself or how I manage my mental health? Only time will tell. 

12. IV of Needles (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“Reversed: Here, the restful energy of the IV of Needles card becomes static. Are you feeling stuck? Have you reached a plateau? It’s important to shake yourself out of your routine. When you take a different perspective, you’ll see you have all kinds of opportunities around you.”

Interpretation: I need to look outside of the box when I think about myself.

13. XIV Temperance (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“Like pouring magical potions into a cauldron, Temperance represents the act of combining different elements together in perfect harmony.”

“Reversed: If life is feeling hectic, it’s time to bring things back into balance. Pay attention to areas of your life that may be a little neglected. The recipe for success requires a pinch of self-reflection and a dash of Temperance. stir thoroughly, and enjoy.”

Interpretation: I need to balance my negativity with positivity. 

14. IV of Candles:

Directly from the guidebook:

“IV of Candles represents celebration. People are recognizing your accomplishments! You’re feeling stable, secure, and comfortable. Be proud of yourself and enjoy the attention, but remember there is still work to be done when the party’s over.”

Interpretation: Although, at our current status as a family, we are successful and doing decent for ourselves but, individually, we can always work and build our characters. 

15. III of Presents (Reversed): 

Directly from the guidebook:

“Reversed: Reversed, III of Presents represents an imbalance within a professional or financial collaboration. If you’re working with others on a project, make sure everyone’s doing their part. Disaster strikes when things become inequitable. Prioritizing teamwork will get you where you want to go.”

Interpretation: I need to be more open about my thoughts, opinions, hopes, fears, etc towards Hubs on this new adventure. 

With this I felt a lot of my back pain let up. I started to slip the cards back into the deck and shuffle them again just to give them an after reading cleanse. Hubs randomly states he was thinking about splurging on a cyber whip rave toy and then another two cards popped out. 

16. XX Judgement:

Directly from guidebook:

“We all have pivotal decisions to make in our lives. Will yours land you on the naughty list or the nice list?

Upright: Now isn’t the time to be hasty and impulsive. Consider your actions and choices carefully, and take time to think things through. Remember that all actions have reactions. Be sensible, and stay true to your conscience.”

Interpretation: The Childs leaving statement is to be mindful as well as ‘you do you’. Apparently, Party time is not on its list of things to do. I may have taken this a little condescendingly. This ghost doesn’t like to have fun. 

17. IV of Presents (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“Reversed: Is your relationship with money healthy? Is it getting you where you want to go? If not, it may be time to look over your budget and reevaluate your priorities. Make sure you’re not spending frivolously if your cash flow can’t support it right now.”

Interpretation: The spirit child was telling us to maybe not go out and buy a light up whip to dance with. No parties for you! Well... In our house, raves will persevere! GLOW STICKS OUT! RAVE ON! 

[zeldasayer]

Ok so like honest opinion please. Would it be cringe if I was to write a self indulgent Whiskey fic? Like I have a chronic illness (multiple sclerosis) that's kinda been acting up recently and I kinda just wanna write a fluffy fic about him taking care of me cause I haven't found any that are like it.

That is not cringe at all baby doll every time I write whiskey it is PURELY self indulgent. I think you should write this. I think it’s a wonderful idea.

[rosethesongbird]

The Nurse, the Witch, and the Witchfinder

(Yes, that is a play on “The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe,” I’m terribly sorry, I couldn’t resist. This fic was rolling around in my head last night, and is really just a very self-indulgent exercise to try and practice writing for different illnesses; it’s also stemming from the fact that I couldn’t find many fics about Newt and Anathema, which makes sense as Azi and Crowley are really much more interesting characters--but why not give the American witch and her Witchfinder some more love? Anathema needs a friend!! Anyways, enjoy it, and enjoy me trying to flesh out my OC. I may try to write another part, if I feel so inclined. -R)

“Good morning, Dawn,”

“Mornin’, Ana.” 

Dawn’s neighbor peeked over the shrub “fence” separating their gardens. 

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure, long as you don’t mind me answering your weird question while I’m elbow deep in hydrangeas.” It was mid-morning, about ten, and Dawn’s short brown curls were pulled back into a half ponytail, concealed under a wide brimmed straw hat. A perfect day for gardening, it was, and she needed to unwind after five days of hosting two celestial beings at her home followed by a rough work week. 

“Are you working today?” Anathema looked like she had just woken up. Her long hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun. 

“No, I’ve got the day off.” Dawn stopped for a moment, thinking. “That’s not a very weird question.”

“Well, no, that was a… preliminary question. The weird question is, would you mind coming by later today and taking a look at Newt?” 

Dawn’s focus returned to her planter. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Why, what’s wrong with him?” She picked up a small grasshopper, frowning and squishing it between two gloved fingers. 

“Well, all day yesterday he had a migraine, and barely left the bed. Usually he can sleep them off just fine, but he was up all night tossing and turning, and this morning he’s worse,” Anathema yawned. “I just want to make sure it’s not the flu or anything.” 

“Does he have a fever?” 

Anathema shrugged. “He feels pretty warm, but… he broke our thermometer.” Dawn chuckled. “Plus, my hands are always cold anyway.” 

“Hm… alright. Do you think it can wait a couple of hours? Tell you what, I’ll come by around lunchtime, and I’ll bring lunch, if you don’t mind hosting.” she patted her hands together, brushing off the extra soil, and stood up. She stood several inches shorter than Anathema, despite her yard being on the “higher” side of the hill. “Jack’s on travel, so I’m by myself for the next few days. Might as well have lunch with a friend,” she smiled. 

“Sounds good to me! How about I’ll make some tea. Iced, to remind us of home.” 

“Perfect.” Dawn grinned. “It’ll be our little Yankee secret.” 

—

Dawn knocked cautiously on the front door, carrying a lunch bag, her usual handbag looped over her shoulder. The door opened with a squeak after a few seconds, revealing a still tired-looking but washed and dressed Anathema. 

“Hey! Sorry,” her voice was hushed. “Newt’s asleep.”

“Oh, no worries,” said Dawn, voice quieted to match. “Poor guy probably needs the rest, anyway.” She walked in, setting her handbag down, and slipping off her shoes. “I totally came here in my house slippers,” she said, grinning. 

Anathema struggled to suppress a laugh. “Stop, I’m gonna laugh and wake him up!” 

“Oh,” Dawn dug around in her handbag before pulling out a small glass thermometer. “I brought this, too. You can keep it, since your man’s so technologically challenged,” Dawn snickered. 

The two women made their way into the kitchen, sharing a quiet conversation about the domesticity of everyday life in Tadfield. Anathema poured them both a glass of ice cold tea. 

“There isn’t any witchy magic in this tea, is there?” Dawn said, opening the lunch bag. 

“Nope. Just good old fashioned regular tea. Although I can’t say I didn’t try to get Newt to drink a few… remedies." 

Dawn laughed, handing the taller brunette a small sandwich wrapped in paper. 

“Gourmet cookin’,” she said, taking a bite. 

“Mm, just like Mom used to make,” Anathema remarked, smirking. They shared a beat of silence, just “munching,” as Dawn would say. 

“So, how’s Newt? Any better in the past couple of hours?” Dawn said, having already eaten three-quarters of her sandwich. 

“Not really,” said the witch. She finished chewing before speaking again. “He fell asleep while I was out in the garden, and hasn’t really woken up since. He still seems really warm, too.” 

As if on cue, a noise came from the room upstairs, sounding somewhat between a high-pitched whine and a moan. “Anathema,” Newt cried out. 

“Oh, poor thing,” Dawn said sympathetically. 

“Here, come on up,” Anathema set down her sandwich and gestured warmly to the shorter woman. As the two made their way to the stairwell, the man in the bedroom cried out again, with some urgency. “I’m coming, Newt,” Anathema yelled up the stairs. “Dawn’s here, to take a look at you, too.” Anathema looked back at Dawn, brown eyes meeting each other with a knowing glance. They climbed the stairs, Anathema quietly opening the door to the bedroom, entering first. 

“Hey, you OK?” Newt groaned in response. Dawn entered the room in silence, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. She took a moment, transferring her thoughts into “work mode,” taking in the sight of her patient. 

The man was lying on his back in the bed he shared with Anathema, head propped up slightly on a well-loved pillow. He was holding himself stiffly, almost as if he was afraid to move, and his eyes were shut tight, despite the curtains still being shut in the room. His chest was bare but for the hair that grew there, and his skin was pale yet tinged with the telltale flush of fever, shining with a cast of sweat. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his glasses lay on the nightstand, untouched since the night before. 

“Hey, Newt,” Dawn said, softly. “Can I take a look at you?” His eyes, now opened, were glassy; illness shrouding the usual robin’s egg blue.

“Anathema,” he said, slurring. 

“I’m right here, babe,” she said, crouching by his side, face betraying her sudden surge of worry. “How are you feeling?” 

“Mh. Hot,” he breathed. 

“Here,” she picked up a glass of water from the nightstand, supporting him as he struggled to sit up. 

“Hold on,” Dawn interrupted. “Let me take his temp first. It won’t be accurate if he’s had anything to drink.” She sat down next to the man in the bed. 

“But ‘m thirsty,” he whined, leaning back on the pillow. 

“I know, sweetheart. It’ll only take a few minutes, I promise,” Dawn allowed the pet name to slip from her lips. It was a force of habit she retained from work, when dealing with someone so ill. 

Newt relented and allowed her to place the thermometer in his mouth. “There you go. Ana, will you set a timer for three minutes? I know I’m gonna forget that glass ones don’t beep.” 

“Three minutes, got it,” she said, fiddling with her phone before looking back up to her boyfriend, clasping his shaking hand in hers, strong and cool. 

“Can I feel around for your lymph nodes, Newt?” 

He shrugged weakly, giving a small noise of approval. “Alright, look up for me?” Her hands gently began feeling around his neck. His skin was not warm to the touch, but hot; and to be honest, she hardly needed to touch him—his glands were visibly swollen and angry-looking. She pushed lightly up on his chin to be met with a groan of pain—causing her to instantly pull her hands away. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! Is your neck a little sore?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Stiff,” he struggled to form the word around the thermometer. 

Anathema shushed him. “Don’t talk,” she said, comfortingly. 

“Well, I won’t touch those again,” said Dawn. “Let me check somewhere else. Can you raise your arms just a little bit?” The man complied, albeit feebly. She pressed gently under his arms, finding more swelling. 

“Are these tender at all?” He shook his head slowly, shutting his eyes tightly at the motion. 

“Hm. Still have a headache?” he hummed in affirmation. 

“Oh, poor baby,” Anathema gently stroked his hair, pushing it off of his forehead. 

Dawn turned away from him and frowned, thinking. “Have you been up and walking around at all since you started feeling bad?” 

He opened his eyes, looking at Anathema. “Mmh,” he tapped her hand lightly. 

“Oh, he did get up yesterday, but he got dizzy and almost fell over, so I had to help him,” she said, Newt moaning again through closed lips in agreement. Anathema’s phone started chiming, loudly, and he groaned again at the sound, shutting his eyes tightly. 

“Alright, let’s see,” said Dawn, taking the thermometer from the man’s chapped lips. His face paled suddenly as Dawn was distracted, holding the small glass rod up to the small amount of light coming through the curtain. 

“You okay?” Anathema checked in again. 

“Nauseous,” Newt sat forward from the pillows, breathing quickly and heavily. 

“Do you think you’re gonna throw up?” The witch started rubbing his back in small, gentle circles. 

“No,” he said, managing to slur a single syllable word. He immediately retched, a small amount of vomit coming from his mouth and nose. 

“Oh, sweetie,” Anathema cooed. “Hold on for just a second, I’ll be right back with a rag.” 

Dawn took her place rubbing his back as she left the room. She smiled warmly, meeting eyes with the man for a moment, before his eyes slid closed. 

“S’rry,” he coughed, as his stomach contents bubbled up and out of gently parted lips; his body had used all of its energy on the single contraction of his belly, forcing him to swallow the bulk of it again to avoid choking.

“Don’t be,” said Dawn, wiping his lips with a balled-up tissue. “Ana, would you bring some more rags and some cool water?” She yelled down the stairs, trying to be loud enough for the other woman to hear her while not hurting her patient’s sensitive ears. 

“Got it,” the witch’s voice was followed by the sound of tap turning on. 

The nurse turned her attention back to her patient. The rise and fall of his chest was shaky but even, his neck muscles stood out in tension. The witch entered the room, carrying a bowl of water and a stack of washcloths. She wet one of the cloths in the water, wringing it out;  then wiped his chin, neck, and chest clean of any remains of his prior sickness. 

“Will you give me a couple, Ana?” 

“Sure,” she obliged. “What was his temperature?”

“Pretty high,” the nurse frowned. “40.4 C, so… like 104-and-a-half Fahrenheit? Approximately?” 

“Oh, wow,” said Anathema, with concern. “Isn’t that dangerous?” she brushed Newt’s hair off of his face again, allowing her hand to comfortingly linger in the dark brown curls. 

“Well, it can be,” Dawn applied one of her cloths to the base of the man’s neck. “As long as it responds to treatment, it shouldn’t cause any harm, but we’ll keep a close eye on it.” She lifted the man’s arm, rolling up another rag, then wedging it in the pit of his arm, next to the sensitive swollen glands. He didn’t move as she applied the same technique to the opposite arm, both arms falling limp by his side. His body jerked suddenly, a trickle of bile escaping his lips; breath catching, and an involuntary cough, the rest of his body still completely limp. 

“You okay, Newt?” said Dawn, eyebrows furrowed. The man didn’t respond. “Hey, c’mon, wake up,” she gently patted his cheek with an open hand, the skin still pyretic under her palm. His head lolled toward Anathema before his body suddenly stiffened—back arching, hands clenching into fists, a choked cry. His body began to shake violently. 

“Oh, my god!” Anathema cried out, pulling her arms away, second-guessing, then returning her hands to his shaking body. 

“Turn him on his side,” said Dawn, lifting one side of the man’s body and turning him toward the witch. “It shouldn’t last more than a few minutes.” Newt continued to shake, Anathema gently stroking his upper arm, Dawn looking at her watch. After about two minutes (by Dawn’s count,) the tremors ceased, and he once again went limp. 

“Oh, Newt,” said Anathema, softly. 

“We should be safe to put him on his back again. He’ll probably be really disoriented when he wakes up, though,” Dawn made eye contact with her. “Just a fair warning.” 

The two women sat silently there for a moment, a heavy feeling of worry coming over the room, both of them lost in thought. Newt suddenly took a breath, gasping, moaning. His eyes slid halfway open, neck tensing again. 

“Hey, sweetie,” Anathema’s hand moved to his cheek. “You okay?” 

He moaned again, pushing his face into her palm, eyes squeezing shut once again before relaxing. 

Dawn suddenly noticed an odd feeling pooling in her stomach, realizing she was tensing her jaw. Her gift of discernment was sometimes almost like a sixth sense in times like this, her unconscious mind tipping off her thought process that something wasn’t right. 

“Newt, let me see your eyes,” she pulled a pen light out of her pocket. He turned his head toward the sound of her voice, almost as if he was moving in slow motion. His eyelids twitched, too little energy left to even open a fraction, and he let out a small “Mh” sound. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” she said, voice measured and calming. Anathema’s hand moved to rub the back of his head. Dawn reached out to pull up on one eyelid, flashing the small light into the blown-out pupil, which didn’t budge in response. She let out a curse, and moved to the other eye, which reacted in the same way—which is to say, not at all. 

“Shit, Ana, he needs to get to the ER like, now,” Dawn said, sitting back. “No pupillary light reflex. Something’s going on with his brain.” 

Anathema stiffened, eyes darting around Newt’s now unresponsive body in the bed. “How are we going to get him in the car? There’s no way he could get down the stairs.” 

“Call 999, it’s faster,” Dawn pulled the covers off of Newt’s legs. His pajama pants were soaked through with sweat. “Tell them he had a seizure, and had a head ache yesterday, and now he’s not responding,” she said, as the witch pulled out her cell phone. She stood up, beginning to pace around the room, frantically speaking to the emergency services operator. 

Far off, a siren started, ambulance tyres peeling out of a parking lot. The nurse held the hand of the unconscious man, rubbing comfortingly up and down his arm, as the witch collected some of her things in a large tote bag, still holding the cell phone to her ear. 

“Do you want me to come?” Dawn whispered. 

“Yes,” Anathema let out all the breath in her lungs at once, anxious. “Yes, please come along. I wouldn’t know what to do otherwise.” Just then, they heard a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Dawn said, jumping up from the bed. “You stay here with him.” 

—

The double doors in A&E burst open with a flurry of activity. A gurney, surrounded by several nurses and a doctor, followed by two women—one tall, tears pricking at her eyes, one short, jaw set, determined, in her element. 

“What have we got?” 

“Temp 40.5 and rising, Doctor,” 

“Let’s get him on ice. Paramedics place that IV?” 

“Yes, sir. They suspect meningitis,”

“Any neuro symptoms?” 

“Patient suffered a seizure at home, and another during the ambulance ride. Pupils are nonreactive.” 

“Alright. Let’s get a cranial CT, start IV antibiotics and corticosteroids, and get a lumbar puncture ordered pending CT results.” 

“Yes, Doctor,” one of the nurses split off of the still-moving mass of people, toward a desk. Another nurse joined up in her place, laying blue gel packs around Newt’s motionless body.

“Oh, Dawn, I thought you were off today,” said the doctor, looking up at the two women closely following the man in the gurney.

“I am. This is a friend,” she said, confidently. “And you forgot to order labs, sir,” 

“Of course,” the doctor gestured to one of the other nurses, who rushed over to join the other woman at the desk.

“Let’s go straight to ICU, no wasting time.” One of the nurses pushed open a door to an empty room, rushing inside. 

“You still with us, Newt?” 

Newt groaned behind his oxygen mask, half-lidded blue eyes glassy and unseeing. One of the nurses pulled away the gel packs with the blanket, opening a paper envelope with a loud crinkling sound and applying leads to his body. 

“We’re gonna transfer you to a bed, mate, so stay still for a minute for us,” a male nurse remarked as they picked Newt up, lying him gently on the bed, pulling a pair of socks onto his feet and half-covering him with a blanket, in one swift and well-practiced motion. Anathema sat down in a seat near the bed, putting her head in her hands. Most of the nurses left the room, the two remaining finished up placing the leads on Newt’s body and beginning their usual checks, the noise in the room mostly quieting except for the beeps of machines being set up and the two pairs of women speaking softly to each other. 

“You okay?” Dawn placed a hand on Anathema’s shoulder. “He’s in good hands, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” 

“I know,” Anathema’s voice cracked with emotion. “I just can’t help but wonder…if I had read what Agnes sent, would I have been able to…” 

“To prevent this?” Ana nodded, wiping her eyes. “Well,” Dawn said with an exhale. “There’s no way of knowing now, and no sense getting wound up over it all. What’s best is for us to be strong. For him,” she said, leaning down to eye level with the seated woman. 

“I guess you’re right,” she said, sniffling. 

“Knowing what you told me, she probably predicted you would burn them.” 

Anathema chuckled. “That may be true.” She sighed. “It’s just that… he trusted me. When I decided to burn them. We’d barely known each other a day, and he trusted my judgment. Now I just feel like maybe he shouldn’t have blindly gone along with the crazy witch lady.” 

“Didn’t the ‘crazy witch lady’ kinda save his life?” Dawn gave her a half smile. “Oh, I don’t know. The crazy witch lady and the nerdy guy sort of helped save the world and all. No big deal.” 

Anathema smiled. 

“Look, I’m just saying. He trusted you then, and now? He trusted your judgment to let me come take a look, and here we are,” Dawn stood to full height, crossing her arms, watching the nurses do their work. “If you hadn’t asked me to come by, I don’t know what would have happened.” Anathema nodded. 

“Thank you, by the way.” 

“Hm?” Dawn turned her head to look at her friend.

“For coming to help, I mean.”

“Oh, no problem. It’s sort of my thing.” 

The two women were silent for a moment, listening to the nurses. 

“What was the temp?” said the nurse at the computer.

“I got 40.8,” said the other woman. “Oh, and put down GCS 9. E3 V2 M4 at 13:52,” 

“Got it.” She leaned over to another machine. “Sats look good,” 

“Yep,” the other nurse fiddled with the IV bag. “Heart rate’s a little high, though, about 103.” 

“Do you ladies need anything? Water, an extra chair?” 

“An extra chair would be great,” Dawn remarked. 

“Not a problem. We’ll be right back with that, and we should be getting our tests set up shortly,” 

“Sounds good.” 

The nurses left, the three neighbors now alone in the hospital room.  

They sat there all through the rest of visiting hours, watching Newt be pricked and poked and carted around to various tests. He had awoken a few times, never lucid, always exhausted. They had at least gotten a confirming diagnosis, bacterial meningitis, and were reassured that the man should recover after a few days in hospital, although the fever had not come close to breaking. The attending physician had also prescribed some preemptive antibiotics for Anathema, who was eventually persuaded by Dawn to take them, alongside some old home remedies, of course. 

Dawn had left at the end of visiting time, going home to prepare for a day of work ahead. “I’ll try to see if I can’t get in here tomorrow,” she said, before leaving. “The attending is a buddy of mine, so I bet I can weasel my way in. And,” she laid her hand on Anathema’s shoulder, “try to get some rest.” 

“I’ll do my best.” The witch smiled. 

“See you tomorrow,” said Dawn, flippantly raising a hand as she walked out the door. 

[umbillicalnoose]

i think that you would think im pretty and would like my poetry and i want to share it with you. im shy.

to be honest, im very apathetic these days. im not the nice “cutesy baby flower petal boy” i used to be. a lot has happened & im bitter & sullen & all in all, a pretty shitty friend/person to know. i used to possess some redeeming qualities, believe it or not, even if they were construed by the subconscious in an attempt to be likeable - a facade, even tho its only a facade, is still tangible, still there, is still something, even if not authentic. is poorer character forgivable in the name of presenting more authentically? but nah. that makes it sound like im putting effort into being a better person, which im not. im just sort of fried & done. its been a very long time since i played the role i built for myself on here of the “small fawn boy who wants to help girls” lmaooo. how embarrassing. altho, i was just a kid, & i guess, if you had a tumblr as a teenager, you went thru some cringe (i know the use of that word has fallen in on itself & adopted its own definition but for lack of a better one) ass phases, whether it was kinning or malingering mental illness or oh fucking christ, all that gender bullshit, etc etc. from what ive observed, tho, loosely following kids im still casually friends with that i met on here, i think we’ve all managed to Grow The Fuck Up, at least a little. most of us have jobs or r in school or have partners - growing up & moving on is a very surreal experience to watch/go thru. im moving at my own pace & ive accepted that - im still currently using & starving myself & concocting a suicide plan every day but at least i use clean needles as much as possible, i actively & honestly do strive for the bare minimum calorically, & um able to work with the mentality of “well ill have this when i need it but todays not that day” a lot more readily, in relation to suicide shit. ive finally found a therapist who Really Gets It, is a frontrunner internationally on ritual & extreme abuse & mind control. its pretty incredible what a few years with a good therapist can do. anyways. im sorry, i know you didnt ask for all this & im not even sure why i divulged. i guess, what tipped me off, was your attempt at sounsing “cute” - dude, cut that shit out, i promise youll be a lot better off. & i know everyone interchanges aspects of their personality based on who theyre talking to/who they percieve themselves to be talking to, but i feel like not a lot of people give enough credence to the internet & its hand in shaping/molding young people, kids, vulnerable dumbasses, especially tumblr (tho, i get that its a relatively new phenomenon) - u get a bunch of the “weird”, “alternative”, ““ostracized” kids together on a website, of course its gonna nurture a culture of hypervalidatoon & pretending to be sick in order to fit in to the point that its not an act anymore & exacerbation of symptoms & basically, just sucking each others dicks, sitting in ur own shit, & never ending coddling. & then, you have the older group of kids, who have played this game before but instead of helping or ignoring the Dumbshit kids, they indulge their own normally-buried-but-unleashed-by-internet-anonymity sadism/human instinct to just be fucking dicks & so now you have this vicious cycle of anger & hatred & fucking melodrama up the urethra. im sorry, i know im comig off as/am being harsh but god fuckin dammit yknow? also, this isnt directed at you, specifically, more of a generalized thing, @ myself included. so uh. i mean, if u still wanna share it with me after reading all this, id be happy to read ur poetry. i used to be over the top nice & then reverted to Major Asshole & am now trying to find that sweet middle spot - honoring & allowing myself to share my pain without putting it on others. which is really hard!! cuz becoming a Dick was difficult in that it forced me to be more honest with my true self & as such, more vulnerable - now in trying to become Kinda Nice again because despite being a pulsating scrotom, ive had the intense desire for friendship & human interaction, while simultaneously doing things that i was consciously aware was pushing others away - but then, if i pretend to be nice, where does that authenticity i worked for & was so scared of go? & i dont mean telling someone their new haircut looks nice even when it doesnt - thats just not being a dick. but i guess, those r the normal trials & tribulations of any relationship & adolescent developing identity. which is weird too - dealing with “normal” issues, i mean. whats the point if your life/limbs/breaking point arent at risk? whats the point when your best friends already dead. im sick of people calling "survivors” (despise that word, so fucking female-originated & overdramatic) “brave” & “strong” - surviving is not brave or strong. its just survival. you wouldnt call an animal brave for running for its life from a predator but you would call a dog courageous for going into a burning building to save its owner. premeditated action on the notion that you are probably going to be hurt is brave. being subjected to pain with no choice is not. theres no “silver lining” or anything “good” to be drawn from it either - sure it may have made x a more compassionate person or made y more introspective & gentle but you know what would have been even fucking better??? if the shit hadnt happened in the first place! let x be an asshole & y be self absorbed - the “benefits”, so to speak, do not outweigh the cost, not by a long fucking shot. its not only patronizing to hear garbage like that, but a slap in the face to know that anyone could possibly see anything good coming from that nightmare & that the characteristics, good or bad, you developed either in response to or as a result of, are worth praise. dont tell me im strong for doing what i had to to escape a torture chamber - tell me im perseverant for studying my ass off & passing that test last week. in the words of one of my dearest & most fucking brilliant friends, “pain doesnt owe me/you purpose - the need to intellectualize & assign meaning to pain & death is not only futile, but harmful.” & honestly, i think that it stems from weakness (in most cases - i realize theres a plethora of other reasons such as those who r just desperate for something to hold on to or r hyperintellectual & analytical or who have been pressured by external “support” systems to find the “good” etc etc) - while the majority of people view the person who “can find the good in everything” (strictly speaking only in relation to trauma/tragedy here & more in denunciation of those that celebrate this trait as opposed to vilifying “survivors” who respond this way, though in my experience, its very very very rarely the “survivor” that perpetrates this ideology ) as strong, i sort of see it as a weakness - their inability to sit with & absorb their own pain or that of others is so strong that not only do they have to frantically pull rainbows out of the teeth of a meat cleaver, they also have to exist within this strange (tho, not malicious - more subconscious) superiority complex. like, nah, dude, some times shit is just awful. you cant tell me anything fucking good came out of a four year old girl being kidnapped, gangraped, & tortured for two years, before being impaled & left to die on a stake. her mom opened a non profit organization? oh well thank fucking god for that!!! those that believe the latter to be more “enlightened” or whatever the fuck r the same people who say shit like “dying is easy - living is harder” & i get that that its supposed to be interpreted metaphorically for the most part - giving up is easy, trying isnt (which also.....isnt true??? admitting defeat & fully accepting the fact that ur fucking helpless is beyond hard lmao???) - but pretend youre somewhere, anywhere outside ur sunny little fucking yoga studio full of white women whos biggest issues r the pta & johnny whos failing math, & lets say your life is in real, imminent danger, a gun is to your head & i want you to not scream or cry or beg for ur life since dying is “easier”. if dying is so easy, why do the majority of ppl cling to it with such desperation - why is suicide illegal? why do some ppl go thru 100s of chemo treatments even tho the doctors say theyre just prolonging the inevitable, ppl who cut off a diseased arm so it wont spread, those who walk dozens of miles every day for food & water, etc? & i know & understand the survival instinct better than anyone, even when i wanted to die more than anything, my natural instincts would kick in with no conscious neural input & id do what i had to do. im not condemning those who cling to life (ok - a little. ur wasting resources out of ur own fear. but i also realize thats just me being a Fucking Asshole As Always cuz technically, im doing the same thing tho its more due to lack of opportunity rather than fear. i just think, societally, death should be more normalized, discussed, & not made out to be so unknown & scary), instead just reprimanding those who say shit like that (inspirational facebook quotes). especially cuz most of the ppl who do spew that shit have never gone thru anything even remotely difficult - their worst nightmare is a Big Scary Black Man grabbing them on the street, mugging them, & touching their tits. & i also know that these stupid ass sayings are to be applied to bullshit like exercise & fitness (“no pain no gain” is another one of my Favorites) & not fucking torture or even just ur run of the mill rape, even that would probably smash the rose tinted banana republic shades off their beverly hills tanned faces. but ive heard the no pain no gain one a handful of times in the last few weeks, specifically from doctors performing procedures in preparation for my bottom surgery. & i know its supposed to be encouraging & they have no way of knowing, but its just like, buddy, u have no idea who youre fucking talking to. & im starting to understand what THEY mean when they say it - pain with a reward is infinitely more tolerable than pain just for the sake of pain; like, a tattoo, it hurts, but u know, when its done, its gonna be sick as fuck. when u r able to fall back on the idea that its for something u rlly want, its A Lot easier to handle as opposed to pain thats Just Pain - theres no reward for it except, i guess, that the more u experience it, the closer u r to the end of it lmao. i mean, i still hate when ppl say it cuz for most of my life, pain was just pain, & the “reward” was the opportunity to go home at the end & so whenever ppl say that, my mind just immediately resorts back to that & im just like haha fuck u. but im trying to remember my experiences r definitely not universal & im starting to sorta understand what they mean i think. but, flipping gears here, & going back to the sentiment of “everything happens for a reason”, the base philosophy of psuedo deep Fuckwads - a girls dad didnt fuck her “for a reason”, everything doesnt happen “for a reason”. like ok, hypothetically, the kid he impregnated her with & that she was forced to have at 12 may surpass all odds & not become a homeless junkie & instead become a world renowned doctor who finds the cure for cancer. but she wasnt raped repeatedly from the age of six for that “reason”, no matter what anyone says & honestly, the liberation of the masses does not justify the suffering of one, especially a child. in my eyes at least. but again, im a bitter asshole. sorry i just Went The Fuck Off here oh my god.....if u read all this, thanks, pal. if not, thats cool too. but yea, send me ur stuff, id totally be down to read it. as for me potentially thinking ur cute, i have to look at my disgusting shitstain of a “face” every goddamn day so everyone else to me is fuckin aphrodite. but im also tryin to not put so much worth into physical appearance- its not something that should be complimented cuz its just smth a person was born with which is the same reason it shouldnt be insulted. this is gonna sound gay & stupid but i personally find that a persons essence & personality really permeates. you can meet someone who, objectively, isnt all that great looking, but once u get to know them, u really see their beauty - how the sun catches in their hair, their dilated pupils looking up at u from under long eyelashes in the dark, the birthmark on their right shoulder that they despise but that is so Them, the gap in their teeth, etc. & idk how to phrase this without it sounding like “well ur ugly but at least ur a good person”, cuz that only reiterates the societally indoctrinated emphasis on appearance & my kneejerk reaction to assure the person in question that thats not what im saying is only another result of that!!! its inescapable!!! but no, really, its not just a matter of “its on the inside that counts” - physically, they change or maybe, actually this is more likely, when i first meet them, my “default” eyes r just looking for features that i know im immediately attracted to (tall, blonde, sickly as in sunken eyes sticklike pale but still looks like she could & will beat the shit out of me) but as i fall in love or get to know them better, my eyes adjust & i notice & adore the beauty that was there all along. so uh. idk if ill think ur “cute”. but probably, yes, ill think ur an angel.

[tcmpcral]

1, 3, 4, 5 for Majora

o | Accepting

What is the biggest headcanon deviation from the canon material that you have incorporated into the way you write your muse? Why did you come up with it?

i’ll admit i get. Nervous sometimes when watching his. what. five minutes of screen time and comparing how he behaves there with my own portrayal hhh. but i also think we were shown so very little of him, and he clearly wasn’t meant to be a character anyone really Cared that much about lmao, that it makes him somewhat of a blank slate

or at least. it’s easy to draw conclusions that still Make Sense despite not quite 100% matching up with how exactly he’s portrayed in canon

for me, i do like the idea that the entire ToP was an inordinately stressful event that made everyone involved with it (outside of like. the angels or zeno, as might be expected) act very desperately and perhaps unlike themselves at times. which is kinda how i justify to myself my majora’s more. uhhh. idk, withdrawn demeanor? i know it was just kind of a running joke that they probably gave up on, but i like that nink comforts shosa, and then shosa comforts majora, but we never actually see majora continue that gag and comfort someone too

so i ran with it and decided shosa was the sociable one while majora most likely stayed pretty closed off around their teammates, idk

that’s. mostly just an example, i guess, of the kinda. barely-connected thinking i do when it comes to majora (...and basil, hop, ribrianne somewhat, roh, and ill...)

i think i also mentioned this on roh’s blog recently-- that i tend to just fill these very minor characters with characterization tropes that i enjoy bc i’m. self-indulgent like that lies down, but i hope they still come across as believably IC for the little we see of them in canon

still, the fact that he’s not. as smug or. boastful as he maybe should be does worry me a bit ahaa ;;

What is something that was never addressed at all in the canon material that you have independently developed for your muse?

everything fjjfkd;a ok, i’ll be honest, the first thing that comes to mind is both his family and. well, his original home and the place he now calls home. like i literally pulled that out of Nowhere, bc there are zero implications regarding anything outside of his age and blindness (and even the first one is arguable)

also his potential familiarity with shosa, since it’s never fully addressed whether they actually know each other or not or just. kinda. happen to have similar Looks laughs

Have you made any outright changes to the canon material in order to write your muse the way you wanted (entire scenes you chose to omit, chapters you say never existed, things you assume were never said, etc.)?

this isn’t a Huge thing, but i do kinda intend to downplay his Super Sniffer(TM) abilities if they ever really come up lmao. i haven’t yet Reconciled this with canon exactly but. the whole ‘losing one sense heightens the others to supernatural ability’ isn’t quite looked upon favorably, by the blind community especially, much less those with other disabilities, and i honestly don’t really want to fall into that cliche either tbh thinking emoji

i had at some point played with the idea that he isn’t totally blind, bc total blindness is actually fairly rare, but given his entire Purpose in the show was to nerf the solar flare, which probably would have worked had he still had even a modicum of sight left, i figured i’d just give them that one lmao

tho. again, apparently the majority of blind people can usually perceive light in some way so. idk it’s a mess lies down

What is an aspect of your muse’s canon material or canon existence that you never had the opportunity to explore but really want to?

i still wonder what he was thinking the entire rest of the tournament after he got knocked off the stage. i like to imagine shosa relayed some of the more interesting play-by-plays but outside of that he just kinda. zoned out for a while

majora, to himself: i think i left my door unlocked

majora: 

majora: great, if i make it back home, it’ll be to an empty room and i’ll be broke as hell

majora: oh

majora: if

jfjkfda; THAT SAID, i would like to delve more into his past and his relationships with his siblings in the present day thinking emoji i’m also just. i mean. i’ve brought this up before, but i’d like an opportunity to have him Entertain a guest in his home and get to flesh that out more. it’s such a small space, i’m just amused by the idea of majora trying to be hospitable but also being very. Particular about how this guest treats his private abode laughs

[fairycosmos]

out of school because it’s too much and my mental health can’t physically take it. But I can’t drop out cause my mum would force me into work and I am absolutely not ready for that either. This is the most genuinely I’ve wanted to die my whole life and I’m so fucking scared about what I’ll to myself/others and. I’m a monster and I don’t see anyway out of this alive or without serious damage being done. (Part 3 i think lmao sorry bad memory) - CH

hey my love. i'm really sorry to hear that you're in such a scary and upsetting headspace right now and i genuinely can not imagine how fucking difficult it must be. the stress alone is incomprehensible to me. i wanted to thank you first and foremost for being so honest and open and i really think that in and of itself is smth to be proud of. to be real, going off what you've told me, there's so much happening and there is absolutely nothing i can say over the internet to immediately change it, unfortunately. like there's no sentence in the universe that will make everything better right away, though i wish there was. so i'm going to try and talk about neutral facts and the reality of things for a bit, because it's good to ground yourself in that clairty when you can. so, you're dealing with a lot of intercepting mental illnesses and it's obviously resulting in you having very untrue thoughts/very dangerous urges. your brain is making you endure things that are uncontrollable, things that are not a reflection of you or your actual desires, even if it doesn't seem that way at the moment. it's awful when your own thoughts are so graphic and horrible that they scare you, but it's very common for people in your situation and it doesn't mean you're a bad person at all. i can't stress that enough. in addition, the self destruction that you want to indulge in is not a train of thought that can be trusted at all, and if you were to act on it, it would only exacerbate your other symptoms. it is a cycle and not a way of life, not an indication of who you are. you're not well, and it's okay not be well, but understanding why suicide is not going to solve anything is a significant step and you must force yourself to take it. it's wonderful that you're talking to professionals, but the thing about treating mental illness is that it's a lot of trial and error. if you feel your medication isn't working you have to speak up, if you feel you don't click w your therapist you have to speak up, if your mental health is continuing to decline you have to speak up. the issues you've described, eating disorders and psychotic symptoms and such, all need to be treated w very specific forms of therapy and perhaps medication, but that can only be achieved if you are straight up with those around you. it's very frustrating to reach out and not notice any difference, but stagnancy is unfortunately a part of figuring out what you actually need. i know it's a lot of effort, and i swear it's alright to get overwhelmed, even to want to give up sometimes. as painful as it is to be in that position, exhaustion is inevitable. but the chaos you're currently experiencing is absolutely not a permanent state of being. it's a stepping stone between blindingly stumbling through the dark and finding the first lamp to guide the way, if that makes sense. i can tell you have some level of self awareness, you can distinguish that you're sick and not thinking properly, and that's a good sign. even though you've been having these alarming urges, the fact that you haven't acted on them and that you can see that they are products of the illnesses is very promising. it's easy to reject treatment or to minimise the seriousness of what's going on but it's honestly the same as any physical illness - it needs medical attention. that's the bottom line. that's what breaks the pattern. the fear of being admitted to hospital is very real but that's usually a drastic step and there are other ways to intensify the support you're getting before they decide you need in patient care. make the professionals hear you out, even if your voice shakes, even if you're embarrassed. they've heard worse, and they're not there to judge you. if you want the terrifying thoughts to stop, admitting to having them is a part of that. i understand not being able to drop out, but if you need to take a step back from your school work or take a mental health day every now and then, or if you need to talk to your teachers about getting additional support, that really is okay. no matter what your mum says, no matter what anyone says. your health is always going to be more important than your grades or your career and if your mum cant understand that she's just going to have to live with it. middle aged people are often just ignorant. her opinion doesn't matter in this context if she's not even attempting to understand. look, trying to hold onto any positive coherent concept must be so hard for you at the moment, so i'm telling you from a level of reality that is not warped by your illnesses - it's ok to slow down, it's ok to be scared, it's ok to need more help, it's ok to be confused. you need to find a moment to breathe. you need to make the conscious choice to act with your own well being in mind despite the temptations of your illnesses. it feels impossible until you try it, okay? wanting to die, while not normal, is a common thought and just because you experience it does not mean you need to act on it, does not mean it holds any weight. you don't want to not exist, you just want to stop existing like this, and that can be achieved through so many different avenues that don't include taking your own life. i honestly can't understate the importance of that. i really do believe that with every 'episode' you are going to learn more about how to manage them, how to navigate your life not in spite of your illnesses but while working on them. the goal isn't to be suddenly cured, it's just to cope one day at a time. you are not monster, you are a person who is struggling and that's not a crime, not at all. it's not a matter of blame or guilt. not being able to see a way forward is the biggest trick of the brain that mental illness will continue to force onto you, but seriously, if you stick around the natural path of your lifetime is going to find you eventually. you're not immune to positive change and a wide open future just because you're ill. and mental illness will always make you feel otherwise, but that's because it wants you not to try. defy it when possible. you're strong enough. you're not a lost cause. you're proving that every day. please, if you feel like you're in immediate danger of taking your own life, please call someone or stay within a safe environment. this sounds empty but it's just not fucking worth it, not when there are so many other tactics, not when there's so much more to you and your life than what you've been through. you know your perception is fucked right now therefore you have to realise on some level that acting on it would be pointless. i get that the pain is beyond words. i get that it's easy for me to say all this without living it. but i'm hoping that some part of this reaches the part of you that was coherent enough to ask for help in the first place. your life is so precious, and that's not just a cliché, it's a fact. your one shot at human existence does not deserve to be cut short because of temporary situations and factors that are out of your hands. please please consider what it means to actively take care of yourself, even in the smallest of ways, from here on out. let that be enough because it is. i believe in you with all of my heart and i hope you know how resilient and capable you actually are as a person, and not as a concept that is marred by your own self hatred. i'm so proud of you for continuing to survive and for making it this far. i really really hope you're okay and that you're able to allow yourself to tackle one obstacle at a time. it's fine to have a bad day but please just let it be that and nothing more. take it a step at a time. i'm sending you so much love and i hope you know that i'm always here if you want to talk about anything, hit me up anytime. you're not alone and you don't have to deal with this alone, no matter what your brain tells you. https://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines

[asapncah]

EEP HERE WE GO AGAIN. i feel like my intros just get longer and longer each time.. sorry not soRRY cause noah is a queen that deserves the Novel. so that’s what y’all are getting so brace yourselves for this wild ride. i’m so very excited for this reboot, y’all have no idea. OH and for anyone new here: my name is lenny, moreau is my child that i cherish more than the hair on my head, i am 21, live in the mst timezone, and use she/her pronouns ! i’m also ur friendly canadian so i’m here for any of ur canadian-related q’s!!! i know we’re a special breed lasdkjlh OK enough about me, onto the queen. y’all know the drill, like this / hmu to plot if u survive reading my Long Ass Intro.

( ariana grande • twenty three • cisfemale ) look, it's noella de luca from apartment 4B! apparently she moved into moreau apartments one and a half years ago and rumour has it, they can be quite possessive— good thing they’re also adventurous, hey? i hear they’re the hedonist of the building. 

↘︎ 𝒷𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒸𝓈 !

given name: noella sofie de luca

nickname: noah

age: twenty3

birthdate: march 18, 1995

hometown: keremeos, british columbia

occupation: waitress & dog walker

↘︎ 𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 !

born to high school sweethearts, willa and antonio, who were very much in love until they just … weren’t

the separation of her parents came as a surprise to young noah but not much sleep was lost over the divorce as her parents remained civil and held no ill will towards each other — they even remained business partners

montagna park. a cozy, scenic campground just a few kilometres away from keremeos, nestled deep in the outskirts of the rocky mountains and home to the majority of noah’s most prized childhood memories

following the divorce, antonio moved permanently onto the campground as a year-round manager while willa remained in keremeos to handle the financial end of the business and raise their daughter, who spent nearly every other weekend in the mountains with her father mastering the wilderness

(tw: mention of adhd & prescription drugs & anxiety) she was diagnosed with adhd at the age of 10 after her teachers noticed her heightened hyperactivity and noah began taking a pill each day at lunch time to help her cope with her symptoms

this new routine brought stares and snickers from her fellow classmates and noah developed a harsh social anxiety with the pressures to act “normal” around her peers, but this only made her adhd worse – it’s a vicious cycle (end tw)

come graduation (which she just slipped by) she yearned to escape the confines of her small town. it was an itch that no amount of trips to the mountains could scratch so she set her sights on something bigger: europe

with the help of her parents, noah saved up for the trip of a lifetime, which she embarked on shortly before her 21st birthday and didn’t return from for several months. though she ventured across the european countryside, much of her trip was spent in italy as she reconnected with her roots and fell in love with the country, particularly florence and pisa. she paid her dues working in a small italian cafe in florence owned by an adorable old woman that reminded her of her own grandmother and made italy her home for many weeks, only returning home due to missing her parents and a dwindling bank account

while in europe, noah developed a love for journals. after finding a beautiful leather bound one in her first week of her trip, it became glued to her side and the obsession didn’t stop once she filled it up (which didn’t take long, mind you)

by the end of her trip, noah had filled up eight journals with tales of her adventures, short poems inspired by the european beauty, and songs that seemed to burst out of her like lightning.

↘︎ 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 !

vancouver became her home shortly after her 22nd birthday, a handful of months after she returned from europe. after experiencing the foreign continent’s beauty, keremeos felt small and stifling to her. the small town held no feeling of intrigue or adventure anymore so she made the big move to vancouver in the hopes of finding something more

the big city held a sort of vibrance for her, having visited a handful of times with her mother for big shopping trips and weekend getaways, and somehow the small town girl melted into the big city easily

moreau apartments caught her eye immediately when searching listings, its beautiful brick walls and ocean views promising her comfort and just enough exposure to nature to keep her sane in the concrete landscape, and she moved in immediately

due to her absolute inability to sit still and be bored, noah works 3 jobs in vancouver: waitress, dog walker, and pole dance instructor

waitress: she serves in an adorable, cozy local restaurant down granville street, close by the apartment building, mostly working morning or late night shifts

dog walker: to fuel her love for animals, noah’s gained a reputation in the neighbourhood as one of the most reliable dog walkers. you can often catch her with a small herd of hounds at any time of day, handling the tangling leashes like a pro

pole dance instructor: she found this studio shortly after her move to vancouver, wanting a physical and creative outlet for herself. she fell in love with pole dancing after going outside of her comfort zone and mastered the skill quickly, promptly bringing the owner to offer her a part time job instructing a beginner’s class on the weekends

she continues to keep journals, using the near-daily activity as a sort of meditation after a long day to ease her ever-racing mind. her collection of songs has grown considerably through her life experiences and her instagram is filled with short snippets of the lyrics in captions and videos of her strong voice that just seems to come naturally

↘︎ 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇 !

aesthetics: freshly picked peaches. crisp mountain air. old denim ripped and stained from wild adventures. perfectly painted nails. thriving house plants. the scent of fresh coffee and sweet lotion. journals inked with stories and rhymes. rose gold jewelry. caramel waves blowing in the wind as sneakers trample fallen leaves. hazy rooms and endless laughter. a strong voice singing about heartbreak.

notable traits: passionate, possessive, adventurous, charming, optimistic, honest, naive, self-indulgent

best described as a freshly blossomed rose, grown in the canadian wilderness and weathered by the elements, with blushing petals beautiful enough to draw you in and thorns sharp enough to protect herself.

willa and antonio raised their daughter to have a strong head on her shoulders. their independence, wild hearts, and honesty passed down to noah easily. she’s certainly her father’s daughter in terms of her curiosity, need for adventure, and determination, but her mother shines through noah’s feminist independence, brutal honesty, and passion for creativity.

in terms of how noah’s young experiences changed her constant state of wonderment as a child, she’s definitely grown tougher and carries herself with an obvious sense of responsibility to protect herself. she likes to believe the walls she’s built since those stares and snickers in school aren’t easily broken, but she falls prey to charming smiles, trusting words, and careful eyes — it’s something she’s constantly working on, always chastising herself whenever she falls too easily

at first sight, she’s a small girl with a big mouth. her personality purposefully magnified to hide the fact that she’s afraid of getting attached. her sailor’s mouth is a surprise to most, along with her openness with her sexuality (bi af) and honesty when it comes to just about anything she has a strong opinion on (feminism, equal rights, lgbtq+ issues, animal cruelty, etC)

but for better or for worse, noah generally prides herself for having hardly a care in the world. many of her days just go with the flow and she’s not worried about her future — the future is today, as she likes to say to convince her friends to join her on one of her many adventures

one of the greatest friends one could ask for because of her strong loyalty, charming smile, generosity, and taste for adventure (it also helps that, thanks to her green thumb, this one grows the best weed in moreau ajklsh). she distracts others from developing too much curiosity about her own story by being an incredibly good listener and shoulder to cry on

to elaborate on her disorder: noah still has a prescription to aid her symptoms (most commonly fast and rambling words, an inability to shit still — showcased by tapping her feet, twirling her hair, fiddling with anything near her, etc — and a short attention span that is often interrupted by interludes of hyperfocus) but often pushes aside her pills because of her stubbornness. relying on a pill isn’t her favourite thing in the world and she likes to tell herself she can get by without them but lbr, the bitch can’t kjlhsd at least not for too long. though she keeps her problems as best a secret as possible, i’m sure someonE’S noticed her slip ups

↘︎ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 !

this was a rollar coaster and a half. i know. i’m sorry. akjlshd please love me

tl;dr: small town girl from the mountains, raised by two loving separate parents, hardened by teasing and stares because of her adhd, but found her freedom and passion for life in europe before moving to vancouver to keep that spark alive. works 3 jobs to keep herself busy and because she just can’t make her mind on what she wants to do (waitress, dog walker, pole dancing instructor). 

first things that come to mind when thinking of noah: peaches, house plants (wink wink), fluffy dogs and purring cats, leather bound journals, and a lust for adventure.

as for connections, i want them aLL but i listed a few right here for y’all to check out. if any of those catch your eye / you’re down to brainstorm, hmu through tumblr ims / discord or like this and i’ll come to you!!!

[nationaldvam]

I wish my self-care was all candlelit bubble baths and manicures with the girls.

I wish my self-care kit only contained chocolate and pretty journals.

I’ve had depression and anxiety for more than 10 years. Balancing two long-term mental illnesses is no picnic. Taking care of my health — taking care of me, the “self” in “self-care” — is critical. And it’s not Insta-worthy.

My self-care routines aren’t appearing in anyone’s #hashtag self-care posts. That’s OK. They’re not that exciting, anyway. Actually, they’re boring, uninspiring and kind-of sad.

There are things I need to do every day to stay mentally healthy, to avoid yet more relapses. Those are the things I call self-care.

Here’s what self-care actually looks like for me.

1. A mountain of pills.

Antidepressants and daily contraceptive pills to keep my hormones under control.

Sleeping pills and caffeine pills for when my sleep routine fails me.

Antihistamines. Iron and B-vitamin supplements. Vitamin D pills in winter to fight seasonal affective disorder (SAD).

Pain medications of all kinds to find relief from headaches and migraines.

I sometimes stare at all the pills in my room and desk and handbag and I am amazed. Is this what it takes to keep me going? Yes. Sometimes.

Hey, if things are going well, many of these aren’t necessary. And one day, maybe even antidepressants won’t be necessary. Maybe. But until then, I won’t be ashamed of taking what I need to stay healthy.

2. An emergency fund.

The most important item in my self-care kit is money. I’ve worked damn hard to scrape together my emergency bank account. It’s enough for rent and expenses for three months. It’s not much, in the scheme of things. But all of us with chronic, long-term mental illnesses know how rare steady employment is.

When I have a job, I save like crazy. I sacrifice holidays and meals out and fun activities. I need to know I’ll be OK if (when) that job ends. I need to know I have a way out; I need to know that, if I lose my job or if I need to leave it, I’ll be OK.

RESOURCES FROM

DOSOMETHING.ORG

Learn about mental health issues

Use positivity to help boost people’s self-esteem

Teach your friends about how to crush school stress

I have a job now; I enjoy it, it’s been wonderful for my mental health and it’s well-paying enough that I’ve been able to set aside even more savings. But it’s temporary; once my contract ends, I don’t know if it’ll be renewed.

Knowing I have this money set aside is invaluable for my mental health. It’s worth so much more than all the bubble baths in the world.

3. Two heavy blankets and so many pillows.

I can’t sleep unless I’m literally weighed down. A heavy blanket wrapped all around me like a cocoon is what my anxiety needs to shut off for the night.

(Yes, this makes summer difficult!)

Recently, I’ve learned that weighted blankets are a legitimate thing; that research has proven how they can calm anxious brains. I always thought it was just me — yet another quirk. The science of it doesn’t quite make sense to me, but that’s OK.

I’d love to try a proper, purpose-made weighted blanket one day. For now, I have two; combined, they’re just heavy enough to help me relax.

4. A minimal social calendar.

Working full-time, doing necessary chores and errands, and caring for my health pretty much take up all my energy. By “energy,” I mean emotional and social energy as much as physical energy, maybe even more.

There’s not much left over for maintaining friendships and making new ones; for most kinds of social activities, actually.

I have a few very good friends and a big family. I need them, and they’ve supported me. So, I honestly do the best I can to keep in touch with them and help them out when I’m needed. It’s actually nice to be needed. I just need to make sure it never gets too much, because wow, it takes so much out of me.

It always feels like I’m saying “no” to things. I don’t like it, but I know it’s important.

5. The same seven outfits every day.

A few dresses. A couple of pairs of leggings and shoes. Some scarves. Two jackets, one light and one heavy. Socks. Underwear.

That’s it.

It’s all good in theory; going shopping, choosing cute clothes. Laundry. Putting everything away and keeping it tidy. Figuring out how to not look like a disaster. That’s too much for some of us. I keep things simple; I have to, or I’d quickly become overwhelmed.

Sure, it means I wear pretty much the same thing every day. There’s little variation.

It’s so much easier. And that’s what I need.

6. Frozen veggies, canned tuna.

I don’t like to cook, even when I’m in a good mental condition. But nutrition matters. I’ve learned the hard way that if I let my diet slip, my mental health quickly suffers.

Tricks, shortcuts and cheating are the way to go. Cooking freezer-friendly meals in bulk. Learning all the ways to use frozen veggies. Figuring out how to prepare meat that’s still frozen.

My kitchen always has a few staple meals and ingredients on hand. Fast, simple and tasty enough that I won’t cave and get takeout.

…OK, I do cave and get take-out, more often than I should. Which is fine. But eating healthy as often as I can is critical for my mental health.

Self-Care When You Have a Mental Illness

Sometimes, I admit, I do roll my eyes when I see the glossy, shiny lists of “self-care” that circulate Pinterest and Instagram.

I shouldn’t.

There’s nothing wrong with essential oils and fuzzy pajamas. It’s just that you need to go out and buy those essential oils and know how to use them, and those fuzzy pajamas need to be laundered and fresh. It’s too much for some of us.

Picking fresh flowers and having bubble baths is amazing. I highly recommend them. They just take too much energy for most days.

Those self-care lists are almost like a vision of a future I might have one day; ideas for post-recovery self-care. Self-care that healthy people get to indulge in.

My self-care is necessarily basic and minimalist; basement-level self-care. Self-care for beginners.

I’m OK with that.

We all have things we need to do to stay healthy, and you know what? It doesn’t matter if none of those things are #hashtag self-care worthy.

Do what you gotta do.