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illegiblehandwriting1 · 2 years

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Hi there!

Hey guys, I'll admit it.

I'm not sure what I'm doing.

But I'm a writer, musician, and Zelda enthusiast! I write for Linked Universe mainly (Illegible_Handwriting on ao3) and I figured I should make a Tumblr, so here we are! I like a bunch of other things too, though (marble hornets, stormlight archive, gravity falls, unravel 2, metroid, doctor who, the owl house, rottmnt, ben drowned/awakening, generation loss, episodes 4-9of star wars, HUMAN RIGHTS DAMMIT, just to name a few) so I'll pretty much post whatever I want to.

I swear a lot, so be warned.

Nonbinary (and everyone is hella valid, homophobes/terfs/transphobes/racists/ableists/anti-Semites etc. beware >:( so be nice everyone)

I use "#illeg scribbles" for my writing, and #chicken scratch for any other rambles or posts I make. #reblog is exactly what it sounds like!

#smoke & ashes has its own tag, and so does #dear four chronicles! #the chosen and the champion also exists but I don't really use it anymore because I'm working on s&a, so if you want updates on that, use the smoke & ashes tag thx :D

And I don't know how active I'll be on here (probably not a lot) but we'll see how this goes! If I'm not active, don't be alarmed, that'll be normal probably lol.

I guess I should make a masterpost huh. Ok that's under the cut.

The Chosen and the Champion series (in progress)

The Chosen and the Champion (Switch gang tribute): Completed. A ton of Wild and Sky content because I saw Skyward Sword on Switch and went FUCK yes. This got off the rails very quickly. Just read all of them at this point, cuz I don't know what I'll bring back next. Chapter 20 and onwards is Exploring Sky's Hyrule.

Smoke & Ashes: Incomplete and in progress!! continues where C&C left off, with a huge fucking focus on Sky's adventure, specifically the end. However, unlike most fics, people are NOT very happy or forgiving with Sky. If you know, you know. VERY ANGST HEAVY. PLEASE READ ALL THE TAGS AND WARNINGS.

Like Mounds of Molten Gold: Incomplete and in progress!! Just a bunch of extra content for the C&C universe! Some are companion pieces to a specific chapter or section, while some are just random shit. There might be cut content every now and then. All of them help to give a deeper/more enjoyable experience to the main fic (in my opinion).

The Dear Four Chronicles (in progress)

Dear Four: completed. oneshot. pre-Minish Cap Four and post-LU Sky. Shenanigans ensue.

Hey Time: completed. oneshot. pre-OoT Time and post-LU Four. Shenanigans but it's 12k this time.

Hello Wind (temp title): being written! IDK when it'll come out, but it'll happen eventually. I promise.

The Groose is Loose! (temp title, in progress??? Maybe???)

A Weight Called Eternity: completed. oneshot. I asked the question "what was Groose doing during the Demise fight?" This is absolutely spliced from ch16 of S&A. Do I care? No. It's edited substantially as well, and is not LU, but SkSw instead. ALSO HEAVY ANGST

Other fics:

There it is again, that funny feeling...: Incomplete and in progress!! multi-chapter. It's a bunch of different ideas all stemming from the same base question: "what if Sky was the Fierce Deity?" Each chapter is a separate AU. Please heed the warnings on this one.

Imagine all the fun you and your future self could have, if only you had a driver's license: Completed. multi-chapter. Long-ass title because I never thought of a better one. Basically, pre-LU Wild and Sky are in Mariokart! Bunch of crack. Lots of fun.

Here lies Link: completed. oneshot. Four digs a grave for a dear friend. Also Wolfie is there for emotional support. Heed the tags.

Storybook: completed, i guess. oneshot, i guess. pre-Minish Cap Four knows about Sky and I think that's the most precious idea. If I ever come back to this, I'll let you know.

Freezing Flame: completed. oneshot. halloween from a couple years ago. Wind finds a graveyard. Heed the warnings.

All the Lights in the World (Are Slowly Going Out): completed, i guess. discontinued, really. multi-chapter. I tried Wumptober 2022 and I only got 3 prompts in. heed the tags and warnings.

Fluffy Pillows and Angsty Teens: incomplete! multi-chapter. Random shit i wrote!!

Beyond Recollection (discontinued): done, i guess. Multi-chapter. Was gonna be about a female hero after twi who people couldn't remember, but i left the idea.

As twilight fell: completed. oneshot. my first fic. don't read it. save yourselves. I might rewrite it eventually. heed the warnings in the tags.

#chicken scratch #smoke & ashes #dear four chronicles #illeg scribbles

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horsesandhockeyplayers · 2 years

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I posted 1,747 times in 2022

384 posts created (22%)

1,363 posts reblogged (78%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@horsesandhockeyplayers

@starshine-hockey-girl

@joeyisourranger

@laurenairay

@hockeymenorattractiveboys

I tagged 529 of my posts in 2022

#colorado avalanche - 81 posts

#mark barberio - 67 posts

#avs lb - 62 posts

#clemberio - 47 posts

#lausanne hc - 37 posts

#wlgyl - 32 posts

#nhl fic - 32 posts

#avs imagine - 31 posts

#colorado avalanche imagine - 31 posts

#when life gives you lemons - 31 posts

Longest Tag: 123 characters

#serving “mom returning from a work trip and just hoping the kids didn’t overrun her husband and tear the house apart” vibes

My Top Posts in 2022:

When Life Gives You Lemons-- Part 2

Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders, OCD etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail. These warnings are relevant to the whole fic not just particular chapters.

Word Count Chapter: 3663

Word Count Total: 7,949

Author's Note: Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Thank you SO much to @hockeylvr59, @newlibrary, @itisawitchesworld, and Nora, who I can't seem to tag. The rewrite of this fic wouldn't have happened without all of you. Thank you for indulging my impulsivity. All of you can see Mark in action during the upcoming Olympics! Reminder that this fic starts during the summer of 2019. I will be tagging the Avs and Lausanne HC. Also *~*~*~*~* means a POV change. Flipping between Mark and Clementine. Today we are beginning with Clementine.

Chapter 2

I rolled my eyes so hard I’m pretty sure I saw my own brain, but despite that, I ended up sliding down the wall and sitting next to him. Thanks to the tilt of the floor, I slid next to him until we were touching, shoulder to hip.

“Is it difficult being this dumb all the time or does it come naturally?” A warning blinked behind my eyes, Brain to Mouth Filter Failure.

His beard was short, but thick; despite it, I saw his lips curve into a smile. “Around you it’s effortless.” He paused before continuing, “You know you seem pretty unperturbed about being stuck in a leaning elevator with a certified moron.”

I offered an anemic shrug before continuing nonchalantly, “Ohh ‘unperturbed.’ Did you hurt yourself?” One of his thick eyebrows arched and he flashed a 1000 watt smile but didn’t dish the insult back which made the game less fun so I answered, “My world feels like it’s on fire all the time. I’ve had complete mental breakdowns because I accidentally used a blue pen in a journal that I only used a black pen in. Comparatively, this feels like no big deal.” It felt weird to share that personal detail with someone I found so annoying.

He nodded at Daze, “Is that what she’s for?”

A personal detail was one thing, spilling my entire life story was another thing completely and he must have picked up on my hesitation because he held out his hand and said, “How about we start over. Hi, I’m Mark Barberio.”

Ok. He WAS an idiot, but at least he seemed aware of his hoof and mouth disease. I gave his hand a firm grip and shake. “Clementine. Clementine Jones, and this is Daisy, but I just call her Daze.”

“She seems like a good service dog and not at all for a blind person,” he grinned like this was now our inside joke.

I rested my hand on her head thinking about the freedom she gave back to me and took a deep breath, “She’s the best.”

The conversation lulled and I’d be the first to admit that I let it die. We sat in silence for a few minutes before I had a thought. “Wait, you said you texted Gabe?”

His answer was a lazy nod of the head with a “mmhmm” that sounded like it reverberated in his throat.

“What is the likelihood of him making me suffer by association, simply due to the fact that I’m stuck in an elevator with you? Because I just met him today and he seems like a nice dude and I think we’re copacetic, but I could easily see him leaving you in a steel box for a few hours.” I flashed back to the mischievous glint in Gabe’s eyes earlier.

Mark just shrugged, “I don’t know, Lime, guess it depends on if he likes you.”

“Great.” I slumped harder against the wall. “Any chance you want to share that Wi-Fi password so I can contact some people so they don’t worry?”

A few taps on his phone and a notification popped up asking if I wanted to save the password to the Wi-Fi. As soon as I hit accept, my phone started buzzing so hard it almost fell out of my hand.

Nora: Hey, I’m running late. There was a thing with the room I’m painting. It looks NOTHING like the swatch and after sanding and refinishing the floors and having the paint not look good I had a little mental breakdown. FINE NOW.

Nora: Ok, I am 10 minutes late, but where are you?

Nora: Ok. I’m worried now. Did you get stuck at work? WHERE ARE YOU?

Nora: CLEMENTINE, THIS ISN’T FUNNY. I’M GONNA CALL 911. I’M GONNA GET CADAVER DOGS. WHERE ARE YOU?

The last one came in as I hit reply and tried to tap out a response faster than Nora could dial 911.

I’m fine! Stuck in an elevator with no service! I’m sorry. I just got on the Wi-Fi.

Nora: Oh, shit! Are you alone? Do I still need to call 911? Where are you?

I’m fine. You know I handle actual emergencies better than like… not being able to find my lucky socks.

Nora: This is true and you’ve conveniently ignored the “are you alone” question.

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102 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

A Not So Southern Christmas-- Part 6

This is obviously a rewrite of my old fic. I have been feeling romantic and Christmasy, so I figured it was time to bring back my favorite holiday couple. Title banner by the wonderful @whatishockey. Thank you thank you thank you to the people who periodically peek at this fic to make sure I don't make too many typos and mistakes. @hockeylvr59 @rymurrsneckbeard and @princessphilly

Synopsis: When Adelaide Thibodeaux finds her husband to be diddling the wedding planner in the Church before their nuptials, she walks out and is determined to take her dream honeymoon by herself. Until she gets a seat upgrade to first class and ends up next to Hurricanes Defenceman, Joel Edmundson. Holiday shenanigans ensue.

Author's Notes: This was written in early 2019 before Eddy went to Montreal as a free agent. I will be tagging both teams. It's been a while since I've posted a dual POV so reminder that *~*~*~*~*~* delineates a change in POV. Today we are beginning with Eddy.

Tag List: @leafs-foreverr, @pagirl6866, @colecockfield If you would like to be part of the tag list, please let me know.

Part 6

*~*~*~*~*~*

Just over an hour later we were crawling along I-90 in an SUV the size of a tank. After the second close call of almost being sideswiped by another vehicle sliding on ice after a single mile on the interstate, I was thankful for it. It was a rideshare, so I didn’t care if it only got two miles per gallon, as long as it was able to get us to the airport in one piece.

Adelaide finally turned on her phone and I just arched a brow at her as it vibrated in her hand for what seemed like a solid minute while she looked annoyed, “You ok there?”

She gave me a withering glare, and she looked so cute that I couldn’t help but smile, which made her glare harder and the entire thing was just a circle of me being amused and her getting more furious. It was fantastic.

Poking around on the screen, a call connected and started to ring as she brought the phone to her ear. I could hear her mother’s voice on the other end of the line. “Hi Momma, is everyone there? Put me on speaker.”

I was thankful it was a regular voice call and not a facetime, because I knew her father would pinpoint the “I just fucked your daughter nasty" vibes wafting off of me from four states away.

“No, Adele, I'm not putting Eddy on speaker.” She sighed and dropped her phone to her lap, hitting the speaker button with her thumb. “FINE. Is everyone here?”

“Adelaide why are you in a car, it sounds like you’re in a car.”

She transferred the phone to her opposite hand as I stretched my arm across the seat and intertwined our fingers. “Eddy and I are going to the airport Mama, our flight leaves at one.”

Her father’s rich baritone chimed in, “I guess there’s a first time for everything, one of my daughters not being stubborn? I better buy a lottery ticket.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Daddy.”

“Eddy, son she IS going with you, correct?”

I cleared my throat, “Yessir, she agreed.”

“Good. Finally. Adele you’re next.”

Adelaide mouthed “I’m sorry” at me.

The conversation devolved from there. “What does that mean Daddy?” Adele sounded irritated.

“It means you need to stop being so stubborn and accept help and maybe find a good man.”

An argument started between the two of them, with Dottie interjecting at random times. There was something about college and Adele getting her Masters while working. Adelaide looked bored, like she had heard this argument before. She started massaging the palm of my hand with her thumb and staring out the window as her family argued.

Finally, Adele’s voice cut through the nonsense, “Addie and Eddy’s hotel room only had one bed!”

I caught the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror and I don’t think he felt at all sorry for my impending death.

Adelaide’s attention was suddenly diverted back to her phone, “ADELE! Daddy, there was one bed, but I slept on the couch.”

Her sister wasn’t to be swayed from her current path of turning the attention to Adelaide, “Daddy, I looked at photos of the suite, the couch was too small for anyone to sleep on.”

He sounded displeased, I was suddenly very aware the man owned a hardware store and all murdering/disposing bodies things were readily available and no one would blink twice at him having any of them. “Eddy made you sleep on the couch?”

Adele sounded breathless, “THEY WERE CUDDLING THIS MORNING.”

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110 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

When Life Gives You Lemons-- Masterlist

Synopsis: Disabled OC and service dog get stuck in an elevator with Mark Barberio. Shenanigans ensue.

Word Count Total: 93K (this includes unposted parts)

Author's Note: Shout out to @newlibrary who has tirelessly created the graphics for this story. She's the true hero here.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Playlist

129 notes - Posted February 2, 2022

When Life Gives You Lemons -- Part 1

Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail. These warnings are relevant to the whole fic not just particular chapters.

Word Count: 4286

Word Count Total: 4286

Chapter 1

“Ok, can you look at the camera please?”

The flash was blinding and while I appreciated the professional set-up, I couldn’t help but wonder if a nerd named Kevin with a cell phone and a white wall would be more efficient. This seemed excessive and far more painful. I found myself blinking to see if my retinas had detached.

The photographer fiddled with the settings for a moment, “Can we do one of your service dog too? I’d love to make her a little badge for her vest.”

I actually thought that was kind of cute, I doubt Kevin would have been as creative. “Sure,” I agreed, “Come on Daze.” I asked for a sit/stay on the little platform and waved a treat behind the photographer.

“Great, these are so cute,” The photographer declared. “What were your names again?”

I sighed, this was about to be awkward, “Clementine and Daisy.”

She blinked at me, her brain processing the names and trying to figure out who was the flower and who was the fruit. I took pity on her and clarified before she short circuited and smoke began to pour out of her ears, “I’m Clementine and the dog is Daisy.”

She sucked her lips into her mouth and nodded enthusiastically, perhaps to compensate for her previous reaction, “Um ok, give me just a second to get these printed.”

Within a few moments, she had handed us our badges and I had to admit the outcome was a little better than using some random nerd named Kevin with a cellphone. I attached the clip of the badge to the pocket of my jeans and Daisy’s to her service dog vest. I didn’t normally make her wear it, but it was my first day at the job I desperately needed and they had given me a chance despite my need for assistance so I wanted her to look the part.

Sports had always been one of my passions but I didn’t have an athletic bone in my body, so I embraced the rules, the stats, the analysis. Numbers had order and always made sense to me, but I just wasn’t quick enough to be a statistician. However, the very best thing about sports is all the numbers could make sense, but the underdog could still win. There was no way to measure luck, to measure a human being’s ability to dig within their soul to beat the odds. It was this, the human element, that attracted me to sports.

It was only after a nasty divorce, a complete mental breakdown, and facing the stark reality of starting my life over completely with nothing to show for a quarter century on the earth that I decided to go back to school, graduating with a Bachelor’s in Sports Communication.

Before that,I spent a year in and out of hospital psych wards, sedated while they tried to glue my brain back together. When that hell was over, I was forced to move back in with my parents, becoming their dependent again. I also got Daisy, a service dog to help me juggle depression, anxiety, PTSD, and all the medications I had to take in order to return to society as a semi functional person. With Daze’s help, I was able to go back to school and reinvent myself and now here I was, on the farside of 30 and almost human again. Truthfully, I had no idea what “normal” was but I had decided I was going to be it. I was going to be normal.

I was starting my life over from scratch, as a new college graduate old enough to be the parent of some of my classmates and a psych ward veteran who was probably the subject of several academic papers. I am the product of a really shitty emotionally and physically abusive marriage which left me with a slew of partly recovered emotional wounds, but all of that was still better than what I had been, as my therapist was constantly reminding me.

It had taken many strings pulled by my professors and, unfortunately, my father, the head basketball coach for Denver University, for me to get this job. Even then, I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t been given it because I checked the affirmative action box for being a disabled woman (double the diversity). And by job, I mean, this was a temporary paid internship gig and if the Avalanche executives liked my content the position would be created and then I could apply. Imposter syndrome was something I struggled with daily and my therapist had invested a great deal of time trying to teach me that it wasn’t nepotism, strings my father pulled in Denver, a hiring percentage, or a variety of other things that got me the job. The Avalanche Organization could have said no. They saw my academic projects and were curious enough to create this internship. It was up to me to keep it.

The makeshift photo studio was in the depths of Pepsi Arena, while Human Resources was several floors up in a part of the building that had windows. Having completed my surprisingly good staff photo with Not Kevin, Daze and I stood directly in front of the elevator ready to make our way up and navigate the next part of the new hire process. I was absentmindedly pressing the UP button as if that would make the car arrive faster when the ding sounded its arrival. I was completely unprepared for anyone to actually be inside the elevator, much less a herd of Avalanche players in full game regalia-- down to the blade covers on their skates.

I barely had time to register the half a ton of boisterous testosterone bearing down on us before Daze darted behind me to avoid being trampled. In surprise, I stepped back and felt one of her little furry paws under my heel. She gave a yelp and my knees buckled to avoid putting my full weight on her little toes.

Before I hit the ground, arms were around me and I found my face pressed firmly against the Avalanche logo covering a hard chest protector. To my credit, I managed to turn my head to avoid a bright red lipstick stain on the fabric of the jersey.

Daze whined as I was righted by the ridiculously strong arms I was wrapped in, and the chest I was pressed against stepped back, putting me squarely in front of my savior and his four compatriots. I blinked for a second as I got my bearings and tried to make my mouth move in a way that wouldn’t haunt me at 3 am a decade from now, but my savior spoke first, his voice quickly snapping me back into reality.

“Whoa, your hair is like… blue.” He sounded like the least intelligent frat boy I had ever come across and my nose wrinkled in distaste as I felt my eye twitch.

It was such an inane response that I forgot I was in front of a bunch of professional athletes, most of whom I watched on a regular basis and all of who could now get me fired on a whim. Now I will be the first to admit I put my foot in my mouth a lot; mostly, because there’s no filter going from my speech center to my mouth and I’m not ashamed to say, working in sports, I often felt like the smartest person in the room. “It’s actually more of a navy, but thanks for the commentary Captain Obvious.”

The four players who were mostly blocked by the pair of broad shoulders and helmet, took an audible step back, and so did the set of pads in front of me which was bad for my IQ. The first thing I noticed were his eyes which were the color of the hazelnut coffee I liked to drink in the morning. My face went slack and I promptly forgot everything I’d ever known, including my own name as I stared into their rich depths.

An accented voice that didn’t seem to be attached to a body floated across my vision, “Is she okay?”

“I think so?” The man standing in front of me waved a hand in front of my face.

Daze whined and I swallowed, the world coming back into focus. My voice sounded far away when I spoke, “I’m fine, we’re both fine.”

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144 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

We stan a man who reads

@hockeylvr59

232 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

6 notes · View notes

rockintapper · 1 month

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hi so i decided to mess around with the hc generator cuz i. forgor about the reblog chain thing but um uh

READ MORE ATTACK

ok uh first one

my voice is too feminine for that :( (also i kinda suck at voice acting + i dont like my voice all that much)

yes but only in my head

WRONG. I HAVE AN ENTIRE IMAGINARY WORLD

:))))))))))))))

i have never used chopsticks

uh if its my own house it'd take me a couple hours to realize i left a mess. but if its someone elses Yes i'd get rid of it SO quickly

man FUCK you

like the beagles song? its. it's ☁ok☁ i gues

THIS ONE'S CANON!!!!!!!1 MY MOST RECENT ONE IS TAILS ^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_

no well thats kind of scary. for the sake of the reader's sanity lets just say im in my own closet

i never thought about my height uh i'd say im okay with it

i have never slept with a nightcap

kind of canon. but instead of a poster it's a sticker. on my bedroom wall. hes got a green shell in his hands

i cant tell the difference

kind of? its a nostalgic holiday for me but also. guys its thanksgiving can you save christmas for december please

#tommysillyrambles #long post

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elliotwarren · 6 years

Photo

🎊 happy birthday gabriel adams! 🎊

It was always his eyes that people noticed first. Well. That was a lie. If they got past his skin color, the way his fingers dug into his arms, the soft whispers to invisible things, it was his eyes. Silver, Meg always said, making him sound something special. Gabriel let a smile tweak his features and brushed dark, messy hair off his forehead. That was just as pointless as correcting Meg.

all art pictured was commissioned by me and are not free to use. feel free to dm me for specific credits.

I’m about to unpack a lot of shit and get way more intimate with everyone on this blog than I have previously, so I hope you’re mentally prepared for this. It’s going to be a hard read, but I’ve been wanting to talk about this stuff for a long time.

so almost every year I try to talk about my oldest character, Gabriel. This year, I wanted to dig a little deeper, and address myself as a writer. Within the last couple of years, I’ve had to own up to some shit with this character. I was a bad writer.

“No, Elliot, you weren’t bad! You were just - “

No folks, I’m not discussing my skill as a writer. I’m specifically addressing my treatment of people, representation, and stereotypes.

I was a shitty person.

cw for ableism, discussion of own health, suicide mention, drug use in a fictional character, and general shitty handling of mental illness.

I’m not super positive Gabriel started as Gabriel. The earliest I remember him was a novel I wrote my Freshman year - in 2006ish. I think I vaguely remember him existing as a something earlier on in middle school, but nothing concrete until later. My first ever novel! It was exactly 100 pages, front and back, written in black pen. It was a blatant rip off of an Anne Rice novel where vampires took over a city and killed and ate them in their court. I don’t even remember if that was actually the plot, but I do remember it being Anne Rice inspired, which is a whole other problem altogether. Towards the end of the novel, I asked my friends in choir class to check off next to character names to decide who died.

I think 3 out of 45 characters made it out alive. Also there were 45 characters. Many of them had scenes from their POV. Yeah.

Gabriel wasn’t the protagonist then, and he rarely has been until the last handful of years. He was just an edgy probably vampire guy who appeared at random with cryptic warnings, who periodically would get the protagonist out of trouble while also existing as a side antagonist. He did survive - although barely.

Later, I had the super unique wild idea to make him ‘crazy’. I took to roleplay forums, where other teenagers I barely knew told me that my writing was good and my character was interesting, and I plagued them with my edgy, cool, sometimes serial killer character that all the girls were into. Sometimes the guys, which I was cool with - after all, I had a lesbian couple as a friend in high school. You know, I was tolerant.

Made you uncomfortable yet? Me too.

Gabriel was the troubled white boy who heard voices and saw ghosts, somehow got by as a homeless teenager, and sometimes he killed people but it was definitely not his fault. He went on to win character of the month on a forum based around experimental testing inside an asylum. I was ecstatic. I took him everywhere, and people loved him. Not one person called me out. Not a one.

My freshman year of college, I joined a group on deviantart, where talented artists I’d admired from a distance were glad to have a rare writer, and after making a nervous start with another character I stepped in with Gabriel. The group was entirely based around the story line, as well as critique and self-improvement. I was ecstatic.

With the assistance of a roleplay partner - now my roommate - I went on to finish my first novel in years, with Gabriel as one of two protagonists. I still have it, somewhere, printed out in a binder. Pretty sure I left it at a friend’s house. It featured Gabe, and my roommate’s character, after Gabriel ‘accidentally’ almost killed her because of the voices and kidnapped her to his apartment in an attempt to fix his mistake. The novel ended with Gabriel realizing he was an idiot, and heavily implied that he killed himself via morphine, which he was also somewhat addicted to for no apparent reason.

At some point in the mess, I down spiraled. I was upset and miserable and something in my brain finally cracked. I’d been dealing for years what I later learned to be chemical depression, but a specific event in my life caused a complete and total meltdown. I stopped writing. I was constantly making posts to tumblr rather than talking to anyone about how I wanted to kill myself. I stopped going to class, stopped seeing people, and my roommate at the time heard me crying at night more than once. I was completely devastated, and I will never forgive that person.

Later, I made a bigger mistake and lost someone very close to me. In the last couple of years I’ve come to terms that I was definitely in love with her. I can never repair that damage. I snapped, for awhile, and became obsessive and gross and just a really shitty person.

I eventually realized college and the situations were killing me, and after 4 and a half years - so close to graduating, everyone said, not realizing I’d failed most of my classes - I made the decision to drop. I moved in with my old college roommate, bummed around their house, and intended to go back to work at a summer camp like I did every year. Except I got fired, for essentially being too old and likely for budget reasons, as I made more than everyone else there.

Obviously this was really good for my mental health.

Somewhere during the mess I started taking a look at self improvement, and turned back to writing. More specifically, what I was doing wrong. The more I wrote the more I started looking into developing Gabriel as a character, with an actual background I wasn’t making up to seem edgy as I hopped from forum to forum, and I started looking into how to write him accurately.

And I mourned all that time and all the damage I did and how many people who probably silently put up with my shit.

I spent years writing Gabriel as this deranged, unhinged being who hurt other people. Now I try to make up for it - I spend extensive time reading articles on mental illness, specific case studies, listening to interviews and doing my best to soak up every little detail I can.

Gabriel is schizophrenic, primarily experiencing mild visual hallucinations and occasional auditory hallucinations, typically in times of stress. He does not kill people - if he does, it has nothing to do with his mental health and more to do with that, once again, Gabriel is a vampire. Like me, he copes with depression and anxiety, born of a situation. I shifted Gabriel from being a shitty, ‘crazy’ white boy to a nervous, wary young man dealing with some shit that no one should have to deal with. I researched therapy, and coping mechanisms, and even found some that help me with my issues. I created Jamie, Gabriel’s psychiatrist and friend. I decided to cut some of the mayo out of my work and made Gabriel’s mother an immigrant from Mexico, and it’s been worth it! I get to research a fascinating, fun culture, and it has improved Gabriel as a character to have a culture.

I realized, at some point, that I’m asexual - and Gabriel is too. I’ve put a lot of myself into him. It’s been therapeutic, and I feel better about Gabriel as a character.

There’s been a lot of change over the years. Gabriel is an entirely different person, and it has greatly affected and I think improved my writing. More than anything, it has changed my outlook on everything, and I hope that some day I can some how make up for all the damage I did with presenting him the way I did. People with schizophrenia are no more likely to hurt or kill someone than anyone else, and many if not most serial killers are just shitty entitled white people. Like me.

It’s been a long time - at least 12 years, if not more. I’ve changed a lot. Gabriel has too. I hope that the next 12 years let me finally finish telling a story about him, and that the world as a whole stop tip toeing around mental illness. I wish someone had told me 12 years ago that making someone ‘crazy’ wasn’t cool or neat or unique, and that I was a super toxic, harmful person.

I’m never going to be writing a story about what it’s like to live and cope with mental illness. While I deal with it, it’s not really my story to tell. I’m never going to tell a tale about what it’s like to be the son of a Mexican immigrant in shitty white america. That’s not my job either. I might tell the story of being a queer asexual, because that definitely applies to me. But Gabriel is a vivid person to me, and I’m glad I’ve learned proper representation. I’m sure I’ll still make mistakes, and I keep waiting for someone to call me out on something. I wish someone had. I wish someone had said, hey, if your protagonist is also the villain and the only mentally ill person in the story, you’re a bad writer and you should feel bad.

That’s your personal call out, if it applies. I hope not.

Don’t be afraid of representation of the ‘touchy’ subjects. But do right by them. Talk to people from those situations, read stories by people from those situations whether it’s relevant or not, watch interviews, see movies. If you can’t do right by a culture or an illness or a person, that’s okay. But take a step back, work hard, and just go for it. Don’t be afraid to ask for opinions, critique, help.

Please. Learn from your mistakes.

I talked a whole fucking lot and if you read all of it, you’re a star. Good night.

#writeblr #writing #character development #gabe tag #about me tag #ok to reblog i GUES #s

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