#real world problems in a fake world

[katheyn]

Okay ATLA Fandom at 3 am this morning I woke up with a burning question, and I need the collective brain cell to help me find peace.

Where the flip did the wood used in the Southern Water Tribe village come from?

Like, I don't remember seeing ANY trees at all around there. But they had to use it for a lot of things, boats, spears, torches, fuel for warmth and cooking, fishing poles, etc.

Like to support a whole community, even a diminished one after 100 years of war, you would need a steady and nearby supply.

I don't know why this is bothering me so much, I blame the neurodivergence.

[mcalhenwrites]

Still alive, writing and editing a lot and even drawing (mostly dragon sketches at work). Seasons has some new chapters now... I saw something earlier about writing being something you can hone by doing lots of reading and writing. I wonder when that will apply to me. I've read a lot of books this year. I have almost hit my goal of 90 books, and while a couple are nonfiction and half are comics, the rest are novels. I expect that to increase again, now that I'm going back to the library. (I stopped with the bed bug scare.) Then I'm setting aside time each week to write. I work on stories at work, even if it's mostly just planning. (My laptop is falling apart so I just gave up taking it to work.) Yet here I am, still the same idiot who doesn't have anything appealing enough for most people to read. I can't get 99% of my followers interested. Sales of Geckos have dropped to next-to-nothing. Nothing else I put out there matters either. The fault lies with me. I'm not good enough. After having this stupid blog for 12 years, I want to delete it. I want to delete my twitter account. I want to delete every single account and shut up for good. There is nothing I can offer. My writing is a good hobby for me. I can get pats on the head for doing a little thing for myself. Aww, look at the cute little dumbass adult doing wittle storwies!!! Isn't that silly!!! They're not good, but he's having fun during the process. Too bad he hasn't figured out that not even 39 more years of practice can save what he's handing out.

[northwest-by-a-train]

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[scattered-winter]

sometimes i see a post and its like. hm. you actually care very little about the story or characters or plot at all bc all you want is for the token male twinks to kiss.

[anti-transphobia]

Just found out about the transunitism tag and I'm having a ball seeing posts from trans people that don't want other trans people dead for arbitrary reasons

[mycomori]

i should legally be allowed to stab someone i think like i don’t wanna hurt or kill anyone but also i really wanna fucking stab somethin over an dover and over again until i pass out

[starrysharks]

i usually just post about reassassination and ultimate excalibur alongside less developed stories/universes but brother i have a LOT of stuff that i either hardly talk about or never talk about at all publicly ,,, mostly because they don't have any character designs done yet 💀

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

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[sofhtie]

hi i’m late 💌

i’m MORE late <3 love u dearly. as we know ur famously the worlds number one communicator #brave #strong. but more than that u have a way of approaching the world where it seems like u are able to find a little bit of joy and connection and lightness in any situation :] u bring this like genuine excitement and delight to the world and it’s SO lovely to be around

[deathfavor]

@yeonban​​​​​​ said: 10. for soma to request seiroku’s favorite meal from the chefs and bring it to him in an attempt at helping the doctor feel better after having noticed him looking a tad... off, in some sense of the word, earlier in the day.

comfort starters

   The aura that surrounds Seiroku is different than it usually is, and if the reactions he was getting were anything to go by, others were picking up on it. Not that it effected his work, Seiroku wouldn’t allow for that. His work was as flawless and efficient as it always was, and he didn’t slack off either. It was just that something in the air around him gave a distinct feeling to those witnessing it of a ship lost at sea in a vicious storm. It didn’t help when he could feel the worrying gazes on his back from some of the medical staff, or when some of the patients seemed especially intent to thank him for his help with bright eyes. Or delirious ones. Those ones were worse, because even in the haze of the pain they were trying to make sure he knew of their gratefulness.

  Part of him wanted to snap at them. Part of him wanted to destroy all of this, this warmth that tasted sweet like sugar on his tongue. The emotion in his chest feels like spikes under his skin, angry and sharp. Seiroku didn’t. Instead, he’d only offered a distant smile and gentle assurance he was just doing his job, and to let him know if they needed anything.

  He needs to remove this warmth like removing a tumor, to split himself open and rip it out and throw away the malformed mess. Self surgery - he could probably do it. How many bushi had he slaughtered? Seiroku moves through the busy streets, his gaze barely flicking over the bushi as he made his way back to his room. He’d long lost count of the number. He slaughtered everyone, indiscriminately so long as they were Bushi. He hated them. He hated them. Hated them like leeches. That’s right. He needed to crush them out.

  This wasn’t his door though, this was no creation of those black crystals. (He wasn’t even enchanted by them like some of the other members.) This was all real.

  Seiroku quickens his pace, paying little heed to his surroundings till he’s safe within his own room. At least his work was over and he wouldn’t need to face anyone if he didn’t want to. Everyone had off days, most would brush it off simply as that. He hoped. How would he know? He’d never had anyone care. 

  His three golden swords clatter to the ground as he sets them aside and he moves to stand by the window, head resting against the wooden frame as he watched colors bleed from the sky as the sun lowered. He could imagine what most were doing. Drinking, eating, laughing. Everything he’d wanted. Everything he’d been confident he’d never get. Sometimes he could coax members to drink or eat with him, but it wasn’t the same. It was always him reaching out, trying to catch the sunlight in jars. Of course, you can’t seal sunlight in jars. Of course no one in the eight would reach out to him like that outside of having something they needed him to do.  

  He presses his tongue against the top of his mouth, eyes closed as he swallows away the too-sweet warmth like a fire eater extinguishing the flames. He doesn’t need warmth. He needs smoke and ash and emptiness, or a heat of anger so intense that the nerves confuse it for cold. Except anger is a blinding force and hardly good for strategy. So smoke and ash it is.

  Seiroku snaps out of his thoughts when he hears the door slide open, knowing there’s really only one person who’d come find him. (At least without the frantic rhythm of running feet and his name already being called out because there’s some medical emergency happening). He also knows Soma will instantly notice something is amiss if he hasn’t already - but to what extent he’ll point it out is unknown.

   His stomach growls at the smell of food and his eyes shift to the tray in Soma’s hands.  “  You remembered.  “ His eyes widen in genuine disbelief. He’d only mentioned it in passing once, he hadn’t expected Soma to actually remember something so insignificant as his favorite meal. And somehow that hurts. Even as Seiroku’s expression softens, and there’s a faint glimpse of something melancholic lurking in his gaze before he shoves it down beneath the waves. 

   Why do you have to make this so hard? Please...Please stop...

   Please don’t stop.

   “  Thank you.  “  Seiroku pushes a smile to his lips as he moves away from the window and the dark outside to sit at the table. His mouth waters yet he only stares for a moment at the food.  “  ...I really mean that. I’m not just saying it. “ His head lifts to look at the captain. He didn’t need to do any of this. His gaze lingers before he turns his head back to take a bit of the food before it got cold. Warm..

[pepprs]

i guess im starting a tradition of double ventposting lol but the last thing i’llsay (maybe) is like… all of that has a caveat which is that my emotional object permanence has been absolutely OBLITERATED by 3 yrs of covid hell and it is really doing a number on me. clearly

[underneathestars]

✨ Tropes Tier ✨

I was tagged by @ndostairlyrium, thank you dear <3

(Link to the Tiermaker here)

Ok first of all I have to admit I had to google MANY of them to know what they mean exactly (shame on me). And another premise is, well, I'd read pretty much everything if done right or if I like and "trust" the author, but yeah if I don't know anything about it but the tropes these are my preferences basically

[cocajimmycola]

sorry for not posting icons. forgot i existed

[garbagequeer]

it always rubs me the wrong way when people try to counter the supposed underlying logic to homophobic and transphobic thinking with ideas about the innateness of lgbt desire and identity. like things like ensuring people that there being more openly lgbt people wont “make kids gay” or whatever it might only make the already gay ones more comfortable which imo goes in the direction of 2 basic lines of argument: 1 that being lgbt is not a choice and 2 that being lgbt is not contagious. but tbh a lot of human identity and desire is based on the desire to be “like” somebody else or on the knowledge of a preexisting model to structure the capacity for desire by seeing the way other people structure desire and not this theoretical innate pool of fully formed truly individual desires that just so happen to coincide with those of groups of people living in a certain place at a certain time. like i want to call back to some lesbian pamphlet from like the 80s that was like a lesbian q&a where the hypothetical question was “is being gay a choice?” and the answer was something like “who cares if it is”. 

like to me theres also something of an apology in saying dont worry we cant make more lgbt people all lgbt people are lgbt no matter what from birth and that is why you have to tolerate them (and therefore if someone isnt understood as innately lgbt this opens a way for violence bc the premise is that you have to forgive us for what we cant help basically). i mean in a path to end cisheteropatriarchy there will be more lgbt people as it advances because the hegemonic models of desire will be questioned and changed and that is part of liberation. you can say they were simply always there but all closeted but the thing is thats not something you can back up + who cares if it is a choice (it’d be a good and legitimate choice!). also the fact that it is not a legitimate or even real worry of homophobes and transphobes that there will be “more” lgbt people cause they’re concerned there are ANY lgbt people. so why engage in something so rigged to move the goal post from “queer is good + queer is something we want” to “queer is + queer is something we accept” which is closer to “queer is, unfortunately + queer is something we’re trying to help”

[administer-distractions]

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[cursed-tm]

getting older is really unfortunate because things are closed off to you the older you get. that's not a like litany against aging or something it's just an observation like literally you can never go back. literally you will never be this age again. it will be impossible for you to tell if you made the right choice or not until it's too late for you to go back and change it. things will simply continue happening on whatever course they're on and there's nothing you can do about it. all of your problems are aging with you. etc