#who's ready to traumatize a pig

[googleitlol]

A Good Scare Sneak Peek!

Your hurried steps seem to be enough to alert Wukong, and he turns back to fix you with an exasperated look. “No.”

“Did you think I would not join you in retrieving the monk’s next disciple?” You deadpan as you catch up with them, adjusting the strap of your quiver before slowing to a stop.

Wukong scoffs with a laugh. “I do not need you slowing me down.”

“Don’t try to make me laugh, Sun Wukong.” You raise a brow before pushing past him. “If anything, you would slow me down.”

“Hah!” He barks, moving to block your way. “I don’t know how you conjure these delusions of yours, but I do find them amusing.” The demon moves to flick your head as he speaks and you swat his hand away with a scowl. Neither of you notice the awkward glances your guide gives the two of you while you bicker.

“If you go in swinging that stupid staff of yours, Zhu Bajie will get scared off!” You reason, your words much calmer than the glare you fix the king with. “He already knows me, so I am coming along to make sure the two of you don’t tear apart that mountain in some stupid fight. We want him to come with us, not go running for the hills.”

Wukong matches your glare, his irritation boring into you while you shoot it right back at him. It isn’t as though you want to waste time doing this. That’s the whole reason you aren’t letting him go off on his own, gods know how much of a pain Wukong would make this. He will swing first and drag out some meaningless fight– hell, you can’t put it past him that he might just kill Bajie instead!

A beat passes before Wukong tears his glare away from your own. “Ugh, fine.” You feel satisfaction tug at your lips when he hisses an agreement under his breath before sharply turning his head to fix his eyes on Gao Cai. His glare must still hold the same intensity as when he narrowed it at you, based on how the guide flinches. “Well? Go on and show us where this demon lives!”

[medusaesque]

Kim's itchy trigger finger

So, Kim reaches for his gun often. Very often. sometimes for the most ridiculous reasons- opening the bear fridge, the experiment in the church, a note from Klaasje.

This one is just from being anxious going into the communist reading group. Kim doesn't want to be the kind of cop who draws his gun constantly, who shoots instinctively, but he is, or at the very least it's very difficult for him to stop himself from becoming one.

Perhaps the most horrifying example is with The Pigs-

Even if he KNOWS the gun isn't loaded, even if he knows it's safe, the instinctual muscle twitch could have ended in an unnecessary death. Kim is very well aware of that fact, and it's horrifying to him. @shufflerock-jam has this really good post about it, where they wonder how many of Kim's kills were unnecessary. "Something about a pair of traumatized cops, one fighting against shooting himself and one fighting against shooting everyone else".

At the end of The Pigs exchange, if Harry says she tried to kill him, Kim begins to interject, but stops himself and agree this situation could've been very bad. Then Empathy chimes in- 'He's trying not to think about how bad it could have been had the gun been loaded.' Which is the heart of the issue, right? that leads us to Eyes-

This is such a fascinating background to give Kim as a character- not just losing his partner, which gives him the trauma and survivor's guilt that lead to this unhealthy relationship with his gun and frankly with death in general, but losing his Eyes, and having that not interfere with his shooting. Kim doesn't need to see well to hit, he doesn't need to think. It's all in his hands, a reflex. A reflex that nearly took an innocent life. That might have taken one before.

His awareness of looming danger, to him and to his partner, is fueling his version of Hand/Eye Coordination to have him constantly on edge, his whole body is like a loaded spring, always prepared to make sure it doesn't happen again. Then it does-

In his nightmare scenario, leaning over his partner's bleeding body, Kim only needs one word to shoot without a second's hesitation. He's never not ready to take that shot. He doesn't need his Eyes.

Harry is distraught to discover he's killed before- his body remembers it. He wants a drink to soften the feeling. Kim however is impressed with how little he's killed- especially coming from the bloody murder unit. He wants to be 'one of the good ones' (Kim's adamant belief in the possibility of a Good Cop is a whole other can of worms) the kind of cop he would think highly of. Kim is disgusted by cops who kill like it's a game. Espirit gives us a vision of a cop exactly like that, who kills so often it doesn't feel like anything anymore. In a way that is completely mechanical- no thought, no feelings, just a thing your body does. Not unlike the way Kim shoots- like a spring unloaded. Kim has 6 confirmed kills before the tribunal, double the amount Harry has. He doesn't react the same way though-

It's doesn't bother Kim that he has killed, even if he declines to elaborate on it, and he seems to frown upon (or worry about) Harry's destructive coping mechanism. If they're unable to save Ruby, he says "Control your emotions. We did our job. This won't be the worst thing that happens on this case… believe me. You can't let this break you." When you wake up after the tribunal, he doesn't dwell on the lost lives on either side. Harry's skills call him a killer, a bloodstained killer, but when he tells Kim he also killed he simply nods. He's smoking though. I'm not saying that Kim is heartless or careless, he's rattled by nearly blowing The Pigs' head off, very sorry for the lives lost during the case, and clearly hunted by death, having been surrounded by it for his entire life. But I do think death is a part of the job for him- not just possible civilian causalities, but his own potential death. He speaks plainly about how he might die in the lie of duty, and he narrowly avoided it more than once, with others dying in his place..

He walked into the line of fire with harry expecting for of them to die, and his quick fingers on the trigger made it so they lived another day. Even if more ghost joined the list that hunts him in his sleep, he is alive. He goes on. He can't afford to fix this habit, as much as he wants to.

So it's so horrible and so touching that when Dros asks "What have you done?" Kim says-

It's a tragedy, really. A wartime orphan who wanted to be a revolutionary pilot and played with Franconigerian knights, who grew up to be a cop, a job that slowly shapes his body into a killing machine. And when you ask what he does, what you both do, he says keep people alive.

[awarmbowlofhomemadesoup]

There’s some weird dissonance reading Leosagi fics first before watching Samurai Rabbit: The Usagi Chronicles. I mean it, I enjoyed the fics, truly. But some of them made Yuichi more like Miyamoto Usagi than himself (and I’m not saying it’s a bad thing). It’s just funny after finishing 2 seasons of SRTUC because:

While Miyamoto Usagi has a resting bitch face, Yuichi did NOT inherit it. Yuichi has a resting space face when he’s not getting excited about his ancestor or Yokai.

2. He wants to be like his ancestor so bad, but he’s just too wholesome.

3. A lot of people have already said this in a lot of posts, but dude is a disaster (affectionate):

Whooping and swinging his sword and yelling he doesn’t need a sensei after making a promise to his auntie that he would find one and treat the sword with respect.

Almost got run over by heavy traffic (and is not aware of it)

Pissed off every single one of his would-be friends who were ready to beat him up.

Was given a wide selection of mystical weapons, and ended up with a yoyo because he got distracted by it. 

AND went to jail. That’s just his first day in Neo Edo. 

He is not easily distracted, he's "momentarily focused" on other things ("oh look, a bird!")

Went into a self-induced drug trip after trying so hard to meditate

4. While Yuichi can be spacey and distractible, he’s already a skilled swordsman with good instincts and reflexes. What he lacked was experience and something to temper his one-track mind.

5. When the show said he’s “all ears, no brain,” they meant it. Guy keeps syrup packets in his pockets so that he’s always prepared. (for desserts, ig) 

6. “All ears, no brain,” was said within his hearing range and it just went through his head because he’s too excited about fighting yokai like his great-great-greatx grandpa.

7. Has the selfishness and self-centeredness of someone with ADHD (and I’m not saying that’s a bad thing). He can be so caught up in wanting to be a hero, he would sometimes not listen to his friends, or hog the mission for a chance to be remembered for a thousand years.  

8. He wants to be the main character so bad:

Jumped into conclusions with Gen and made a wanted person escape.

Attacks yokai on sight to live out his fantasy of being like Miyamoto Usagi

Tries to pilot a giant robot and did well for 1.5 seconds.

Risks his life more than once by making contact with a giant magic crystal that could’ve burned him alive with too much power.

He’s goddamn lucky his show is for a younger audience or he’d be traumatized along with Leo (and his bros) from rottmnt, Luz from TOH, and MK from Lego Monkie Kid. 

9. Likes one-liners because it’s like in his comics/manga of his greatx grandpa. (”Put down the pig, or I’ll put down the hurt -wait, I can do better than that.”)

10. But yeah, all of that and he’s still a polite and considerate kid who sincerely wants to help people and his friends and will do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do. 

Saves the three people who were going to beat him up.

Got delighted when the three people who were ready to beat him up were there to rescue him. (”Are we friends now? :D”)

Wants to hug them in the first hour of meeting them.

Somehow convinced one of the most terrifying yokai to be his sensei.

Would babble about yokai in the middle of fighting one.

Risks the city for an alien.

Like I know some people can’t stand its animation. It’s not the best, but it’s not bad either. Anyway, this is the Yuichi Usagi that I have known from the show and I’m glad I’ve met him. 

[agaypanic]

HII!! i have a request for a Reese Wilkerson x fem reader

soo there’s an episode in season 7 where Reese is set up by a bunch of bullies from school (S7 E6: Lois Strikes Back) and i wanted to ask if you could write about the reader helping Reese recover from the traumatic experience and he soon realises that he has a crush on the reader for some time while she’s looking after him. THANK YOU!! ❤️

Help You Heal (Reese Wilkerson X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: When Reese experiences the worst prank of his life, Lois enacts her revenge by going after the girls that set him up. Y/n has a different approach.

***

When Reese begged you to come over to help him get ready for a date, you didn’t know how to feel. You were his best, and kind of only, friend. So, of course, you should want to see him go out and be happy. But at the same time, you had been harboring a crush on the boy for a few years now. Helping him get ready to go out with another girl would be rough.

But you still did it because, above all else, he was your best friend. You had to have his back.

You had never seen Reese this anxious over a date before. Apparently, this Cindy girl was the cousin of some girl who goes to North High, so she and Reese had never met until tonight.

After watching Reese pace and fiddle with his outfit and flowers for an hour, the doorbell finally rang. You were half relieved and half dreading to watch him open the door. But it all turned to confusion when he went from the happiest person you’ve ever seen to absolutely horrified.

There was laughing and giggling. You and Lois looked at each other before running to the front door to see what was happening. The sight made you angry.

Four girls from school stood in front of you, laughing their asses off. They were all recording and taking pictures of Reese’s reaction.

“Come on, Reese. Cindy wants a kiss!” One of the girls laughed. Cindy wasn’t one of the four girls. Cindy turned out to be a pig.

Like, a literal pig.

Disgusted and appalled, Lois slammed the door in their faces, but that seemed to further egg the girls on. They taunted Reese from outside as he stayed frozen in his spot.

***

The prank had obviously taken a toll on Reese. He refused to get out of bed for school, and surprisingly, Lois let him stay home. You volunteered to go over after school to check on him, which Lois greatly appreciated. She planned to go to the school to ensure the cruel girls were punished for their prank.

When you came over, only Reese was home, curled up in bed. He wouldn’t say anything, only giving you nods and head shakes to communicate. You were sitting next to him when Lois barged in, surprising the both of you.

“Your principal is disgusting!” She seethed. You knew better than to ask; she would elaborate. “He thought the prank was funny. He thinks Reese lying in bed, too depressed to get up, is funny. He won’t do anything to punish those girls.”

“What an asshole!” You said for both you and Reese, who whimpered at the mention of the girls. You watched as Lois sifted through the boys’ bookcase, pulling out a yearbook. She sat on the other side of Reese, flipping through the pages before landing on the section of your class. She turned the book to you and Reese.

“I wanna know who those girls are, Reese.” He shook his head, scooting over to you to get away from the pictures of them. Seeing he was still in a fragile state, she decided to take a more tame approach. “Mom will take care of them, sweetie. I just need to know who.”

Reese looked up at you, and you nodded down at him, trying to urge him to point out the girls. You wanted them to pay for what they did to Reese.

After a bit of pushing, you and Lois were able to get him to point at the girls’ pictures. It was a little scary watching Lois formulate a plan before leaving the room and then the house. 

“Well, then… Want some lunch?”

***

For the next week, strange things were happening to the girls who had pranked Reese. You knew who was behind it all. But also knowing that this was her way of showing that she cared for her son, you decided to not expose her to anyone. Instead, you’d tell Reese about the events while caring for him. Speaking of, Reese was starting to get better. He could actually form complete sentences again.

“I heard that Heidi got hardcore grounded because her parents got a call from a hotel about a reservation she made for her and Scott. Apparently, she also ordered the romance package, whatever that is. Her parents went ballistic.” You could see a hint of a smile from Reese, which surprised her. Before, when you or Dewey would try telling Reese about some kid getting in trouble, he would become sympathetic toward the person. But it looked like he was slowly coming back to his old self. “How are you feeling, Reese?”

“Better.” His voice was quiet and less whiny than it used to be. 

“Anything I can get you?”

“Can you stay with me tonight?” This wasn’t the first time Reese had asked you to stay over, but you wanted to wait until it wasn’t a school night since you didn’t want to go to school the next day in yesterday’s clothes.

“Sure. I’ll go call my mom and tell her that I’m staying over.” You went to get up, but Reese grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Can you call her later?”

“Yeah, sure.” You repositioned yourself to lie down next to Reese.

“Thank you,” Reese said unprompted.

“For what?”

“For helping me get over the whole prank thing.”

“Of course, man; what are friends for?” You asked, and he smiled slightly, but it quickly disappeared.

“Yeah, about that….” Reese turned on his side so he could look at you better. “Do you promise that if you don’t like what I’m about to say, to just ignore it?” It was such a weird question to ask.

“Sure?”

“I really like you, Y/n.” Reese fiddled with the blanket that lay over him. “Like, like like you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think I have for a while. But we’re best friends, so I didn’t wanna say anything. And I think I was so into Cindy because I didn’t wanna ruin things between us. But you taking care of me and helping me kinda made me realize that I want you to know that I like you.”

Your heart melted at the confession the boy just gave you.

“I like you too, Reese. A lot.”

“Oh, thank God.”

[princessamahle]

Name: Amahle Dingila

Age: 20

Hair color: Black and blue

Occupation: Demon Slayer and frost hashira

Combat Style: frost breathing

Relative(s: father Motsamai

unamed mother

the youngest out of four sisters

eye color: teal

height: 5'6

Birthday: December 1

Race: Human

place of origin: lesotho

ethnicity: Basotho

Amahle Dingila is a demon slayer corps member rank of a hashira. She has come to japan after reports of demons scattering internationally by muzan kibutsuji to a landlocked country in lesotho. He visited the country to possibly find traces of the blue spider lilies due to lesotho's many rare plants. When he couldn't find it he started to examine the country as a whole and saw many black civilians. he was disgusted by their way of living but thought to have a few civilians as guinea pigs for turning into demons as he saw they were a hardworking group of individuals trying to survive the harsh winters. once news of demons broke out in the country, many basotho tribes tried to stay vigilant of their now invested country. The monarchy got involved and tried to find direct solutions of the problem. Until Amahle's father, prince Motsamai traveled to japan for a solution. he came across Sakonji Urokodaki who taught him the techniques of water breathing. He created his own breathing style from water breathing and turn it to frost breathing. He took final selection and stayed a slayer for a couple of years. When he felt ready he asked permission by Ubuyashiki Family heir of that time to head home to protect his people and train them to become slayers of their own. The establishment was good for decades until Motsamai was married and had children of his own. All daughters. None of them was interested in learning frost breathing except his youngest daughter Amahle. Who was very close to her father. She traveled back and fourth to japan with him to learn all about it. And the slayer corps. She met all of her dad's slay partners. Including sakonji urokodaki Jigoro Kuwajima and shinjuro rengoku. Shinjuro thought the child was so adorable and well behaved he saw her as a daughter of his own and offer to arrange a marriage between his son kyojuro and Amahle for a stronger clan between frost breathers and flame breathers. She met a young kyojuro who was so loyal to his father he didn't care whether he loved the girl or not. So he treated her like a princess which annoyed Amahle greatly. Unfornately, when Amahle was 12 years old, demons raided her parents palace back home in lesotho. Everyone was murdered in her family and all she could see was a woman carrying a biwa who'd smile at the child gracefully. She never forgot the woman's face. Word got out about the child's traumatizing episode and unfortunately due to her age she had to go into hiding for her safety and wait till she's of age to become heir. Amahle stayed with Sakonji urokodaki after he got word from the crows that a fellow hashira of his had been murdered. He came for Amahle and took her back to raise and continue her training with him while in healing she met a young giyu and sabito who saw her like a little sister. They went off to final selection as she was still in training. A year later when she was fully recovered and ready she took final selection where she met her childhood friend kyojuro. They both succeeded together and became official demon slayers. overtime they grew up and slaying together and became more stronger than ever before. However kyojuro still felt it was his duty to protect his future wife even if she didn't need it. A year after Kyojuro became a hashira, Amahle moved up to hashira along with mitsuri kanroji. A tsuguko that kyojuro had been training under his wing. They became the best of friends quickly due to interest. She got to meet giyu again while being in the same rank with him but she notice he seemed more on edge. she knew their close friend sabito had died over the years but saw he was more on edge about something else. But she didn't question it. Amahle has earned her title as hashira after hardwork and experience. But despite her talents she has a very goofy personality. sabito gave her humor while being raised with urokodaki. As he felt a little girl herself shouldn't live a life in such misery. This explains why her chemistry with mitsuri works so well. She also has a slight crush on sanemi shinazugawa who is also a hashira.

But he finds her mildly annoying due to her bubbly personality. However he can't bring himself to hate her seeing she's not just a pretty face with a sword. As he finds her breathing style and agility amazing. He also sees a colder side to her attacking demons that makes him quite attracted to her. Tengen sees her as a celebrity due to her background in royalty and admires her as a slayer. He asks her constantly if she gets access to diamonds as lesotho is famous for their resources of diamonds. His wife suma has a mild crush on her. Gyomei sees her as a child of war as he was notified by her tragic background. But does respect her as a slayer. shinobu understands her feelings completely as Amahle tries to hide her feelings using her kind bubbly personality. Muichiro sees her as a big sister trope as she adores his company and sibling like personality. obanai doesn't talk much to her unless its about kanroji. But he also sees she is a respectable slayer. Amahle is a loyal slayer and will continue to support her cause in approving the extinction of demons. Her only concern is that when it is all over, will she go back to lesotho?

[anastachord]

wtf ao3 tags

erotic asphyxiation

car stuff

afterbirth as lube

where I have basically taken the canon out back and shot it

Exhaust pipe penetration?

Inappropriate conversations about vaseline

sand

Chicken (singular)

Misuse of highlighters (not sexual)

kids don't try this fuckass communication at home

Accidental cult acquisition

direct quote from my notes "for medical reasons im gonna need you to suck this ra ca ca"

Unorthodox use of jellybeans

The pope queerbaited us so I wrote this to cope

i bring you the p in pining: pain

Rats

getting hit by cars

improper use of religious items

Jeffry Bezoz

mutated peen

eroticised arithmancy

I STILL SEE YOUR SHADOWS IN MY ROOM

fyi Julia Roberts came to me in a dream and told me STDs don't exist in the PW metaverse

harm to fish

the author is mildly traumatized and would like you to be as well

gratuitous social reform

talk of laundry and then not doing said laundry

That awkward forced car conversation that you can't escape from

mention of one (1) chicken

the inherent anxiety of sending an email

[clenches fist] its about the being enamoured with each other

Ferns. A Lot of Them

victorian obsession with tuberculosis

lube injected?? into the urethra lol

Platonic daddy kink

pain but like the funny kind

also a possessed squirrel

if you like to eat broken glass this is for you

Strangers to something else I don't know what yet

I looked up octopus anatomy and then bent it to my will

self-worth issues like woah

mushroom soup

How to be an adult and fail at it

the intrinsic horniness of applying insect repellent to your best friend's back

Murder of the English Language

fake dating but in a REALLY stupid way

you've heard of netflix and chill, now get ready for gbbo and sad gay pining

this was supposed to be funny but then i killed someone

No Beta - Transformed Into A Hat

Asinine flirting

They get divorced but not really

trying to find the perfect balance between ha ha ha and boo hoo hoo

clownsexuality

I Treat Canon Like A Buffet But In A Gentle Way

Please understand I was drunk when I wrote this

third banananananaan

eroch is a bitch, this really doesn't have anything to do with the story i just hate him

Rated B for Bullshit

gay people

Stabbing yourself into a relationship

Not so epic fight on a tall cvs building

author is mentally stable (I think)

platonic servitude (for now)

Stickshift Jobs

god watches reality tv

consentual dinosaur sex - Freeform

sexy biggie cheese

dirty talk involving dragons

There is a child who dies

cats but the good kind not the 2019 musical

baking bad

Jesus is an Among Us crewmate

this is pure me vomiting on my keyboard to the tune of mutual pining and then posting it

bootlicking, but... not boots.

princess kink?

scoobay

A ludacrious section of the word count spent describing baked goods

war zone meet cute

demonic asthma

flirting in inappropriate situations

will smith fish

Kanye West as Oreos

vodka baptism

beet play

russian presidents

Elmo is a raging homosexual

nae naeing

improper use of a gourd

onion suit

Communist Sonic

questionable canonical accuracy

Two bros making out but its not gay

I Can't Believe I Wrote Porn About Our Founding Fathers

dead cheeto

greg - Fandom

giantdongs

holy water as lube

Pinecones

Ebola - Freeform

sexy bugs

vergin mary

magic ice dildo

head explode

Jesus sounds like Danny devito

cows - Character

united states of horse cock

unsafe impromptu skydiving from airborne blimps

minnesota state prison facility host club

sneeze kink

ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding

glass

there is no God only Goose

splish splash in the bath tub

Birth in a waffle house

pringle man

evil pig

butter rain

A velociraptor with a pizza fetish

aggressive honking

stealing shit

I plotted this all out in a notebook while waiting 4 hours at T-Mobile when my phone was fried

plant rescue operation

Bowser purrs

glue factory

qustion mark

you ever just start a civil war?

gay legos

plastic wrapped barnes and noble book

i spoke to god

Canon is a dartboard and I am drunk and blindfolded with no dart

crabs

you ever just blow out the side of a pirate ship with a big fucking canon?

Consensual Kidnapping

idk what i'm doing but im having a rootin' tootin' time

the fuck is a cuckoocest???

human jungle gym

waffle fries

essays about toilets (threat)

Banana smut

The Grinch goes to therapy

blood is finger licking good

I would be happy to turn them into a soup

Unhinged and morally questionable but otherwise extremely healthy relationships

Sooooo many peanuts

held at gunpoint to lovers

vegan jesus

intense handholding action

Sandwich Denial

War On Pillows

canon typical random explosions

pining of the loins

inappropriate use of dolphin anatomy

richard nixon/wallis simpson

general narrative stupidity

i like how i just tagged it as CPR, like this is not a manual on how to do CPR, seek help elsewhere

Inaccurate descriptions of jobs and other things that I got off Google

no one hurts the beans

Erotic Handholding

F in the chat for my FBI agent who watched me type this for a fanfic in my search bar, and then go back to finding ways to kill people

[itzrafee]

The Boy and the Heron, or… How Do You Live?

I remember the first time I heard about this movie, years ago. It was in an article from one of the big names that report on films and other such things. I knew three things about this movie going into it. One: that it was the film Miyazaki was leaving to his grandson. Two: that it was called How Do You Live? in Japanese. And Three: shortly before I watched it, I heard it was about death. When I heard the first two, oh so long ago, I had to hold back tears. There are people that affect you in life. Many that you know personally, but others, through art, reach across time and space, across nationalities and barriers of language and through your chest to cup your heart and soul and mold them. Miyazaki changed me. From that first fateful meeting when me and my brother snuck upstairs to the adult section of the library and picked up the DVD of the only animated film among grown up rom-coms and dramas to the repeated checkouts and uncomfortable squirming in our seats at the terrifying and traumatic scenes that played out. From the cheap thrills of the Rodents of Unusual Size in The Princess Bride, to pretty much everything in Neverending Story to the morbid curiosity of Zoro sawing his legs off in One Piece to the existential excavation of my soul that Spirited Away participated in, the things that terrified me, shaped me. And almost nothing as much as Miyazaki. 

Not only had he hooked me like a floundering fish and dragged me to the shores of soul-affecting cinema, he had also given me a glimpse into what art could do. How it could creep into your dreams and guide you down candle lit streets and past food stalls where pig shaped men and women ate and over a bridge that only spirits should pass. How it could change the way you looked at the world. He took my hand and put it in Haku and Chihiro’s as we all crossed that last threshold together. Baptism, christening, whatever you call it, it was a religious experience. In my head I was a man, ready to take on the terrors of the world. Of course though, that wasn’t the case. But a few  years later I had grown some, the illusions of adulthood dashed against the rocks as I buried my head into books, Diana Wynne Jones quickly becoming my favourite authour. Whether it was the maybe too adult for me Fire and Hemlock, or the just right Merlin Conspiracy or the maybe too young Chrestomanci series, I was in love. It’s a love that still burns today and it was my first serious creative crush, seeing someone who spoke to my soul and knowing I wanted *something* from them. Creative Crushes are terrifying things, all-consuming and burning, what they are is the love of an artist’s influence on your soul. It’s seeing someone you can only dream of becoming so all you want is to become like them. As you grow, you sort through the feelings and do what you really wanted to do. You take a tube and stick one end onto that so-affecting piece of work and then you part your flesh and crack open a few ribs and plug the other end into your heart. And as the slow drip, drip, drip of their creativity fuels you, you too start pumping out stuff of your own. It’s not just consumption. It’s creation.

Alls that to say, when I learnt about the film of Howl’s Moving Castle, I lost my goddamn mind. That was it. While Spirited Away had unearthed and wiped away the dust and cobwebs from my newly burgeoning creative soul, Howl’s Moving Castle lifted it up and gave it great big hug, before rearing back and chucking it straight into the air, trusting that I’d learn how to use my wings before I hit the ground. And I think I did. At least I hope so. Howl’s Moving Castle was a spell cast on me, both Mrs. Jones and Miyazaki Sensei taking turns at the cauldron before sprinkling it into those neat little packages Sophie was known for. And all this to say, Miyazaki was my next big creative crush, Spirited Away’s impact compounding from this new insight as well as giving me my next clue as to what a creative crush really was. And again, alls this to say, Miyazaki was important to me. I grew up with Ghibli. With Totoro and Whisper of the Heart whittling my soul into new shapes. And then learning that even great people: artists, directors, and even Parents, could be fallible. I learnt about Goro and Hayao, a son and a father, locked in a love that bled all over their work and finding all of the ways to not say “I love you”. I learnt about his other son, quietly hidden from sight, whittling away at wood. And for the first time I didn’t see a monolith, an obelisk unmoving, a titan of his industry. No, I saw another human being, struggling to be a person.

So it’s with those three pieces of knowledge and a lifetime of knowing Miyazaki through a screen that I watched The Boy and the Heron, my first Miyzaki film on the big screen. I had not slept a wink for the last 24 hours or so, my body hyped up on the adrenaline of finally fulfilling a promise made almost two decades ago in the adults section of my local library. I was traveling a bit. Instead of walking over to my favourite theater, a cozy and familiar joint minutes from my house, I was going to the one at the local mall, a half an hour away by car. I settled into too small and too hard seats as the effects of the hastily consumed and poorly made instant coffee made my eyelids tingle with a caffeinated buzz. I settled in among the few scant fellow viewers also wired enough to watch a movie in the theatre on a Monday night and beside my brother with whom I’d started this journey so long ago. Slowly though, people trickled in, and minutes before the film started, the theatre was full. These were all people who had their own journey to get here. All maybe just as winding as mine. And it was with these people, that I saw The Boy and the Heron.

I have a lot of thoughts, and I’ve just gotten back from the theatre to regurgitate my rough feelings onto the page here but I understand some people might see this without having watched the film first so I’m going to be throwing everything under the cut. I haven’t read anything else about this so I could be missing things or misconstruing them but that’s the joy of talking about the art we take in, isn’t it? Everyone’s got their own unique little tube pumping out a special combination of thoughts and ideas that’s just them. So it’s rough but analysis, thoughts, connections and and abundant spoilers, you’ll find that all under the keep reading, so click it once, and maybe twice and keep on reading! Aside from that though, I did want to start this account off on a different note, something a little more crunchy and technical and dry so I’m super grateful that I get to do it with something as meaningful to me as a Miyazaki film. So without further ado let's talk Miyazaki!

I am an unabashed Cinephile. Film Grandpa Scorcese says streaming is a cancer? Why yes sir, I’ll nod along. Distinguished leaders of the Film Bro crowd Chris Nolan and cutey Tarantino say we need to preserve the theater experience? I’ll salute and shout along a “Yup, Yup!” And Mr. Magnolia PTA himself says another not so dissimilar thing? Well, you got my agreement there, pal. So it’s safe to say I love film and as such it can also rightly be assumed that I love the theatre experience. Though from my previous paragraphs you’d be forgiven for thinking that I didn’t like the the one for The Boy and The Heron. You couldn’t be more wrong. Films are imperfect things. Flawed as much as the people that make them. Watching these flawed expressions of our souls in unmemorable arrangements just doesn’t cut it. Whether the experience is awful or above and beyond in presentation, a memorable experience, the creaking of the chairs, a certain musty kind of smell, and the wind rattling through the building as people shift in uncomfortable seats, those are all preferable to conditions that can be called “just right”. And so it was, with not all things, “just right”, that the screen darkened and the movie started playing. 

I have been to the theatre both alone and with others on every day of the week and at every time possible. Other than the library, bookstores, and my room, the theatre is another one of those safe spaces that feels almost holy, sacred even. It’s consecrated grounds for latchkey kids and the spawn of emotionally unavailable parents. It’s a confessional, a dark room where your secrets reflect back to you, played out in garish displays of excess by people that look way too good way too often. Not to beat the horse corpse of the Pandemic black and blue, but Covid changed things for the once holy place. It’s become a little bit more uncivilized, a little bit more rowdy, and a lot more wild west-like. It’s not uncommon to hear a prepubescent voice yell out an admittedly funny joke at a heavy moment and have the rest of the audience respond in a wildly different ways. So it was with that knowledge, knowledge of what a Monday 7PM December crowd was like, and what the common audience had mutated into that I saw a magical sight. Magic befitting an equally magical film. Monday nights are for a more film loving crowd, rushing to theatres as soon as the hustle and bustle crowd of the weekend had left. But even by those lofty standards and against the new wave of theater audiences, the hush that fell over the audience as the screen opened up on wartime Japan was transcendental. People leaned in, the seats seemed to shut up on their own and suddenly stopped squeaking and the collective breath we took in only let out as Mahito rushed back to put on his clothes. The movie had started and it had already captured us. 

Right away Mahito is an incredibly fleshed out character. You get those lifelike moments straight out of the gate, rushing to windows too fast and having to stop, kicking off sandals with limited success and the billowing of clothes as feelings and emotions surge through and out of the character. And then it shows everything you need to know about Mahito and his mother in one shot. He loves her, he’s going to chase after her and even leap into the fire. But first he has to go back and look presentable so his mom doesn’t worry. It’s a heartbreaking show of love that slowly dawns on the audience as Mahito goes racing into the fire, the heat blasting him back and snatching away the tortured screams for his mother. 

I searched in vain for a while and the origin of the idea is vaguely lost in some corner of my mind, but a filmmaking great, whether it was through Orson Welles’ verbose speeches or Mark Cousins’ lilting Belfast accent in The Story of Film or someone else altogether, once impressed upon my mind the ability of film to manipulate time like no other. If I remember or someone else can I’ll make sure to amend this but essentially film and editing were time machines, and could jump forwards and backwards, sideways and upside down and do loop de loops with time to try and have the greatest effect on the audience. And Miyazaki uses the time machine of editing for a gut punch, throwing us into Mahito’s shoes. Only seconds after losing his mom, do we see the person who’s supposed to be his new mom. Considerable time has passed, Shoichi has moved on and remarried and Natsuko is even so well into her pregnancy that Mahito can feel the baby kicking, but the wound is still fresh in Mahito’s mind. To him, his mother only died seconds ago. Natsuko is an imposter trying to take her place. Very few films have done such an effective job in making the audience understand what the character is going through. Miyazaki makes us feel the same betrayal Mahito feels by the use of the clever little time machine that is editing. 

While Mahito’s relationship to Natsuko and his father and other people are interesting, there is a giant shadow cast over it all. Because in the end, while it is a film, it is also something else. A lesson. And an Apology. Miyazaki as the creator and every other adult in the film, is speaking to Mahito, the avatar for his grandson, trying to teach him as much as he can, before he passes on. But it’s not just that. It’s also an apology. An apology thats spans time, from across his career in filmmaking by drawing on imagery from Spirited Away, Howl’s Moving Castle and even Goro’s Earthsea, as well as the Heron’s Disney-esque flapping of wings as he tries to fly to the Looney Tunes like wink from a Parakeet as it sharpens it’s knife so it can eat Mahito. Miyazaki makes sure that his descendants understand that this is an apology not just from a sad old man, but also an apology from him across time for all the mistakes he’s ever made. But first, the lesson. 

And the first and foremost lesson to his grandson, and to Mahito, is to be kind. Through thick and thin. Through hardship and irritation. Through change and stagnation. But that lesson doesn’t land unless Miyazaki shows us who Mahito really is. A scared and small child, doing his best to put on a front that matches his father’s apparent confidence. It starts with Mahito’s helpless screams against the fire but then we see the gentleness with which Natsuko looks at him, him seeing so much smaller now that he isn’t puffing up his chest or sitting silent and straight. Then a humorous scene where he catches a glimpse of his father and his stepmother kissing. Too young to fully understand pregnancy, and seeming smaller than ever before, this act is what fully cements in Mahito’s mind that his father has indeed moved on. So he puts on a brave front, copying his father in the only way he can, silent strength that he supposes him to have, because if has to speak to Natsuko he might not be able to get through a sentence without his voice cracking. This imitation of his father is also a lesson in Shoichi’s fallibility but that’s something we'll get to later.

While this false bravado keeps people who desperately want to get close to him at bay, it slowly melts away as we see the real Mahito, a kind boy who does his best to help others. Despite knowing that the promise of the Heron is a lie, Mahito also knows it’s the only way to rescue Natsuko, someone he still hasn’t fully accepted outwardly. His inner self shines through time and time again though. While he keeps Natsuko at a distance, his heart yearns for his mother and all the different ways she presents herself in all the different people only serves to confuse Mahito, though he always ends up reaching out. 

Miyazaki shows the audience, Mahito, and his grandson the beauty of being kind. First through helping the Warawara be born, perhaps one of them his new little brother, to burying the pelicans to even restoring the heron’s beak, someone who did his best to be an enemy. An attempt which failed in the face of Mahito’s kindness.

Before we get to the second lesson, I think it’s also important that we touch on the Warawara and the Pelican’s. It’s easy to see what they are. The birds of the film represent soldiers, the Parakeet’s the Japanese who fly the planes Mahito’s father, seen in the Parakeet King, makes and the pelican’s the foreign soldiers, sent to a foreign land to die. While they dash the prospects of what will end up being Japan’s youth in the Warawara, they were also a product of the system, a cruel and uncaring world, built from the ground up to fail. And in this comparison, Miyazaki also lays out another reason why kindness is so important, while people seem to be evil or adversarial, it quite often is not their fault, them merely being products of their system. The young of the Pelicans face the same plight as the warawara. When Kiriko discusses how the Warawara haven’t flown in quite a while because they haven’t eaten it’s meant to serve as a parallel to later when the dying Pelican mentions how the young of his species are forgetting how to fly. Miyazaki, always concerned with how the world is being hurt, and while a crotchety old grandpa, looks us all in the eye and apologizes for a world not made for us. A world where we’re not meant to succeed. The only tools we’ll have are kindness and each other. 

And in that is the second lesson, that we need to keep reaching out. Mahito keeps everyone at arms length at the beginning of the movie but after a disastrous encounter with the Heron he starts reaching out. He learns to sharpen his knife by connecting with the old man, and using that newfound sharpness and using his own hand and skill, carves his first weapon against the Heron. It’s what lets him take his first step and gains him a guide. From there he reaches out to Kiriko in the past and then despite the Heron’s apparent betrayal, Mahito still helps him plug the hole in his beak. Afterwards he connects with Himi and in one final scene where he accepts Natsuko, he finally finds the love of his mother once again. 

The final lesson is the lesson that leads into the apology, the fallibility of those who seem to be in charge. Mahito imitates his father and his interests, because he sees his father as the image Shoichi crafts. Shoichi is almost a parody of a man. A Randian business tycoon who makes airplanes. Like Rand’s misguided notions, Shoichi seems to be the pinnacle of manhood, solving problems, getting over his grief and overall just being confident and strong. It’s no surprise that when the motivation for that bravado, his son. disappears, that we see the humanity of Shoichi and Miyazaki points out how awful and ridiculous this fantasy of detached and powerful men really is. Shoichi slumps and is downtrodden and even in his heroic charge made to look like fool as parakeet’s vacate their bowels on him and he mistakenly and hilariously proclaims that “Mahito has turned into a Budgie!” Shoichi shows the ridiculousness of pretending to be in control but Mahito’s other Parental figure, Himi shows the faults of those in charge who claim to have good intentions. While she drives away the pelicans, she burns up the Warawara and even is the catalyst for the horrific scene of the Pelican dying. And another reason Mahito has to grow up way too fast, as he once again contends with Death but this time in a visceral unreality. Miyazaki tells the audience that while those in charge may think they are doing the best thing they can with the best intentions, they may not be able to see what someone like Mahito can see, all the unintended side effects and harm. Miyazaki is clear, adults are fallible, adults make mistakes, and they’re not always the ones in the right. 

And it’s in the final figure of fallibility that we also get the other big message of the film, the apology. Miyazaki positions himself as every adult in the film but the most important and most blatant is the Grand-Uncle. The Grand-Uncle could not be a more obvious representation of Miyazaki if he tried. He makes worlds through the building blocks of every artist, shapes. And his tools are these colourless three dimensional shapes that look exactly like the first form of major practice an artist takes on as they learn about perspective and shadows; form drawings. And it’s these building blocks, that are made from stone, that make up the twisted world that haunts the Grand-Uncle’s descendants. The Grand-Uncle pressures Mahito to take them on, and Mahito, who’s already felt the pain of this crafted world, from the self inflicted injury in the real world to the systemic oppression of this dream world, rejects it to build his own world with his own hands, using wood. 

Now while that may seem an esoteric idea, wood versus stone, it goes into several things. First of all, stones and these hard materials are a foundation for the the other world, it’s what the meteorite is made out of. But wood is also a softer material. Mahito had already found a calling in woodworking early on, and it serves as a contrast to Shoichi’s metal and glass world. A world of death and destruction as was seen clearly in Miyazaki’s last outing, The Wind Rises. But it’s also a direct allusion to his real life. If you remember from the beginning of this probably too big round-up, I talked of Miyazaki’s other son, a woodworker. Miyazaki is as explicit with this as possible. He shows how awful it is to take on another’s burden. He’s built a shadow that will follow his sons and their children and all of his descendants through all their lives. And because they’re his blood it’s something that seems to be hoisted on them. It was with Goro and it almost destroyed their relationship. He directly compares this ordeal to his other son’s, the woodworker who chose to go his own way. Mahito takes on that role while also taking on the role of Goro and his grandson. It’s an apology for being away and it's an apology for hoisting this world upon Goro. But zooming out a bit from this family drama, what we also see is Miyazaki giving one final lesson. Not just to his grandson but the audience as well. He see the world him and his peers have built and he apologizes for it. And he sees how much of a burden it is to us who are supposed to inherit it, and he offers a different solution. The film asks, How Do You Live? And Miyazaki answers, you make your own life. You make your own world without the tools of those that came before you. Don’t inherit our mistakes, don’t take on our burdens. Build something new. Build something better...

Wowee, that was long. If you made it here, if you made it to the end, I have to sincerely thank you. I hope it was an enjoyable read and if not an enjoyable read, an informative one. I’m sure I missed a lot and maybe I’ll come back to it but these were my initial thoughts on the film. I’d love to hear your thoughts too if you wanna share and hopefully, I’ll see you again soon. I’ve been Rafee. 

[graphitesatellite]

Hi, phi!! Ok so, I had an ✨idea✨, it’s kinda angsty, so don’t hesitate to say if you’re uncomfortable. Now bear with me, M6 reaction on discovering mc has been trapped under Valdemars lab and kinda being used as a Guinea pig, like what would the LI’s do, how would they comfort mc this kinda stuff. Had this idea at like 3 am and here I am!

Hi, old friend

To say I feel bad about never finishing this is the understatement of the millennium, cuz I really really wanted to, it was important to me to make this happen for you, it’s a really good idea! But it just never came to be, and I’m so sorry

Your request is a unique one, though, in that I did actually start to write it before the ability to write anything suddenly left me, so I’ll include what I had written under the cut

Thanks for sending in a request <3 I’m sorry I don’t have more for you

at first i was thinking i’d write about the LIs saving MC from the lab, but i had a hard time getting into that scenario, so instead let’s say MC was trapped in the lab for a few days and managed to escape and find a way home

Asra

has spent the last few days scouring every last inch of the city and forest for you, barely breaking to sleep or eat or anything else – how is he supposed to go about his usual activities when he doesn’t know if you’re safe? He hasn’t been this frantic since… since a time he doesn’t want to think about

it’s an honest stroke of good luck that he’s there to answer the shop’s door when you knock; he’s hardly spent a moment there since he realized he didn’t know where you were, and if he hadn’t come back to check, you two may have missed each other entirely

but he IS there, and you’re right there, right across the threshold, appearing from thin air just as quickly as you disappeared, and his heart drops because you’ve been put through your paces and it Shows, painfully clear; he can’t pull you into his arms fast enough

and he struggles to let go of you, to let you stray from the safety of his embrace after days of thinking he might have lost you again, but he knows he has to – you might have wounds that need washing and bandaging, and you probably need a few hours (or days) of sleep, and who knows the last time you ate?

the whole situation is overwhelming, to put it lightly, and it’s hard for him to know how to react, how to process his own feelings, so, hoping that the rest will come to him in time, he focuses on the one thing he does know: how to take care of you

And then what happens from here? He takes good care of you, makes sure you have everything you could ever want, then once you’re ready to talk about it he’ll listen, of course he’ll listen, it’s asra, and he’ll get so mad on the inside that anyone would ever think of doing those things to you, much less actually do them, so valdemar is on his shit list now, he’s gonna do so much research on demons to figure out how to get rid of that green goblin for good, but he’s also gonna comfort you by being with you and promising to protect you and putting more protective charms on the shop and showing you neat magical things and telling you fun stories in an effort to distract you, he’ll do whatever it takes to get your mind off that horrible experience, he’ll pull the most outrageous pranks just to see you smile, to hear you laugh, find you the silliest and cutest little trinkets, lead you in breathing exercises, in meditation, and he’s in it for the long haul

Nadia

has obviously been in shambles without you but has organized a very impressive search effort, so when you just show up in her chambers, traumatized and terrified bc valdemar could be nearby, she’s put through a whole range of emotions

Maybe you’re hiding under the bed or something and nadia can find you that way, and you can try to explain what happened, and nadia will definitely believe you, but banishing a literal demon might be tricky

That’s not to say nadia doesn’t try, doesn’t call in the absolute best to ensure the demon doesn’t become a problem again, but valdemar is slippery and they could still be out there somewhere

So nadia increases security and is there for you as much as she can be, even though she can’t relate to your experience at all and therefore isn’t sure if she can say anything helpful, she still can validate your feelings and cuddle you and stuff

She can also have that lab destroyed, maybe even totally filled in so no one can use the space ever again and you’ll never be forced to go down there as long as you live

[karakulialiny]

After drawing enough next gen OCs by @red-gekkouga, I thought, "Yeah, Red has some great headcanons about next gen, but mine is just as good and worthy of being illustrated and published as well." So let's get started.

Link and Zelda's family. 16 years after TotK events

Link and Zelda decided to have a child almost immediately after they got married. Gabriel turned out to be an almost identical copy of his father, except for the eyecolor. His upbringing was extremely difficult for the newlyweds because the baby turned out to be terribly restless and naughty. It all started with simple whims, like not wanting to sleep, bathe, and change a diaper. When the boy grew up, he started to make fun of his parents by throwing food in their faces, splashing in the bathroom, and jumping on their bed. But despite all this, Link did not dare to punish Gabriel in any way, as he was afraid of traumatize him. But over time, he and Zelda learned to explain to their son how to behave and how not.

Mark was born as a result of the naive hope that the second child would be a girl. Fortunately for Link and Zelda, the youngest son turned out to be the exact opposite of the older one: more calm and obedient. The spouses had already begun to think that parenthood would no longer cause them serious trouble, but that was not the case: Gabriel began to mock Mark, taking advantage of his weakness and modest nature, taking away his toys and making faces at the table. When the brothers grew up, the older one began to scare the younger one with all sorts of stories, like "Children are the result of a terrible disease that you can catch somewhere on the beach" (this is how Gabriel answered Mark's question "Where do children come from?"). Over the years, it became clear that it was Mark who was suitable for the role of heir to the throne (because out of all Zelda's children he was the most responsible), so after the restoration of the castle, the boy was taught the basics of government.

Aryll became the most successful attempt to have a child, as Link and Zelda wanted a girl from the very beginning. Link decided to name his daughter after his sister since he missed her very much. Zelda did not mind, as she had already dreamed of breaking the cycle of naming girls in royal family "Zelda" (just like many fans, as I noticed). By nature, the girl turned out to be more like Gabriel: restless, but not naughty. Link showed a special love for his daughter, which at first made Gabriel and Mark jealous. Fortunately, over time, the brothers and sister found a common language with each other: Mark became Aryll's "guardian angel", and Gabriel spent time with his sister, arranging crazy entertainment, like rolling down a hill in a barrel or pranks on Mark. Aryll's favorite animals are pigs and frogs.

Sheikah trio next gen. 16 years after AoC events

Rei and Tenn are Robbie and Purah's twins. They should not have been born at all, as Purah believed that the children would distract her important scientific work. However, anything can be planned, but a woman in love with a good-natured nerd, despite everything that happens around, remains a woman in love. Fortunately, Impa agreed to babysit her niblings from time to time, and Purah was ready for the fact that, at least in the future, she could raise a faithful assistant from her child. But she never expected that there would be two of these children at once. Well, at least Robbie and Impa were very good as father and aunt, and Purah didn't lose her mind at this stage of her life. Rei at first did not want to devote herself to science at all and wanted to study martial arts more. But having learned the terrible backstory of her aunt, the girl nevertheless changed her mind and decided to study botany. Tenn, on the other hand, always admired the work of his father and even helped him in assembling mechanisms.

Haya is a little daughter of Impa and my OC, who already has ToyHouse profile. As mentioned on the picture, the girl was named after a dragon fruit. Alas, I have not yet come up with some interesting backstory for her, but you can already see her in one of the Hyrule Park specials.

I'm not yet giving any guarantee that Gabriel, Mark and Aryll will become canon in my AU lore, since I can do something extremely unpredictable with Link and Zelda (I write this so as not to ruin the intrigue of potential readers from reading the comic). But Rei, Tenn and Haya are 100% canon characters in Hyrule Park. They will appear in a fanfiction related to its lore called Afterlife. So, stay tuned😉

[acupofbullshit]

The ugly, ugly truth of a stone to the heart.

“Even on my worst days, did I deserve babe, all the hell you gave me? Because I loved you… I swore I’d love you until my dying day.”

Ladies, theybies, gentlemen and kinfolk alike gather round, Gather round!

For I have quite the tale to tell you.

It’s a cautionary true tale of tragedy, heart ache, heart break, love, loss, kindness and a lesson in why empathy isn’t always the best policy.

Our story spans the better part of a decade and… none of it’s enjoyable.

The people in this story are extremely real and is based entirely on fact, truth and genuine circumstance; that being said please do not take it upon yourself to absorb this traumatic situation to make it your own or to use this as a shield to hide behind your own feelings for the situation and the people involved.

If you care too greatly for those involved and you simply want to stay away from the details or would rather live a Schrödinger’s lifestyle I implore you to back out now, stop reading and call it a night… that’s enough social media for tonight.

If not, please read on.

To start I’ll answer some questions as I usually do.

Q. Why are you doing this?

A. I’ve been hounded relentlessly for it on NGL and there’s a character limit there so I figured if you really wanna know so bad? here we are.

Q. Why do you feel the need to do this?

A. Two reasons

1. He’s gonna say I’m crazy and hide the truth so might as well actually be crazy and spill the beans

2. I’ve accidentally opened a door to social media where some of you feel genuinely entitled to the details of my personal relationships and the damage is done.

Q. Will you share your life openly on social media in the future?

A. Maybe… maybe not.

If this experience has taught me anything it’s you really cannot trust the people around you and sometimes you need to trust that the universe knows details you don’t and hears conversations you can’t.

If the circle needs to close, let it close.

It doesn’t matter how much you love them or how badly you want things to change.

Q. Does the other party know you’re sharing these details?

A. Probs not, hey? But I also don’t care?

Not once did that man think about me or our children at any point through his indiscretions… so… 🤷‍♀️

Q. What happens if your kids read this in the future?

A. I’m extremely honest with my girls and they’re already aware of the important details and this is a lived experience for us all.

I’m not sharing aaaaaaaaalllll the traumatic shit because… I don’t want to relive that? Just the relative need to knows.

trigger warnings in effect for infidelity, abuse, anger, sadness, depression, miscarriage and everything else that feels like anguish.

Are you ready kids?

Because it’s gonna be a bumpy ride…

“I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace”

Let’s take you back 10 years. It’s 2014, MH370 Is missing, Ebolas a problem, Vine is popping off and Fancy by Iggy Azalea and Charli XCX is taking the world by storm.

I’m a newly single 21 year with 2 kids under 3 and my friends are trying to set me up with a cute boy they knew who, I was CERTAIN wasn’t interested in me.

The boy could barely look at me without frowning and when I tried to speak to him he always looked like he was in pain. There was no way he liked me… and yet he was asking me on a date.

He was a little younger, lots of fun and very handsome… and also NINETEEN. And he didn’t have kids of his own. And liked to party. And he didn’t finish school. And he couldn’t drive and he didn’t have any responsibilities and he had his whole life ahead of him… why on earth would this man chain himself to a woman with 2 young children?

Trading in Kesha and Skrillex in dark rooms overflowing with booze and dimly lit with lasers for Peppa pig and Disney movies on the couch illuminated with a nightlight and a 3 years olds giggle… not the most ideal trade for a young man and yet still, he promised he wanted it.

He wanted a family, a life, a house full of love and children of his own someday.

“Even if it does work out and he actually likes me it’s a recipe for disaster … this is a bad idea” I thought to myself.

10 years later I kick myself for not trusting my instincts and hate the fact that, like always, I was right.

Ok I’m not always right.

Once I thought there were 100 seconds in a minute and 60 centimetres in a metre... yeah yeah, I know. I KNOW.

But I am always right about PEOPLE. who they are, how they act as their true selves and their core motivations.

When you’ve been through enough trauma to madden a small army you get pretty good at seeing things for what they are… and even better at delusionally pretending you can’t and especially so when love is involved.

Back to the story.

Time wore on and we were happy... Mostly.

Or at least we were right up until our first major hurdle as a couple… infidelity.

The genius accidentally showed me someone’s nude photographs on his computer while trying to open an anime for us to watch.

How was it handled?

He said I planted it there to make him look bad and that I was trying to set him up.

Listen, I’m crazy… but I’m not INSANE.

I dye my hair pink on a whim and drive interstate for a meal. I’ll laugh so hard at a seal screaming at a traffic cone I’ll accidentally trigger a panic attack.

See? Crazy, but not insane.

Naturally I rebutted and refuted his claims but he doubled down which is when he learned gaslighting was an effective tool to weaponise against someone with admitted lapses in memory.

Yes, you can start cringing now. It only gets worse from here.

We hadn’t even hit our first anniversary before the cracks were well and truly embedded and they ran DEEP.

And I stayed. Stupidly, because I thought somehow I DID somehow plant them there or it WAS somehow my fault.

What if it WAS an old photo that he just happened to have saved to his desktop that he forgot about? Benefit of the doubt right?

Wrong. WRONG.

I look back on that poor young gullible woman and I’m filled with rage. He’s nice, sure but he’s not worth the thousands of dollars in therapy and the years of happiness lost.

Stacey, you should have run. Got out clean! Dodged a bullet!

It doesn’t matter if there was another failed relationship, this wasn’t on your hands you don’t have to prove you can outlast something out of spite anymore.

BUT I DIGRESS.

we move on, things change.

We put in some work together, I change jobs he goes back to school to get his apprenticeship… things are going kinda great! (Aside from my medical mishaps and me losing my job that is)

…And then we got new neighbours.

That’s when the real trouble began.

Within a year of them moving in he had made friends, destroyed a marriage, broke up two families and forced us to move.

Why? Because he just had to try and (maybe) succeed in fucking his best friends fiancée (our next door neighbours).

That one was hard.

I had just endured a miscarriage and was undergoing a likely cancer diagnosis… I’d spent the day before having holes poked into my cervix to remove suspicious cells and I was worn out and exhausted.

After a long ass day of being in pain and raising girls I had just put dinner on the table and felt ready to cry. He tried to cheer me up and show me a “a funny meme” at the table. What he ended up showing me was my very pregnant next door neighbour masturbating in a towel.

I didn’t laugh at the hilarious portrait. He wasn’t laughing when I threw him out of my house and slammed the door. The neighbours saw, they whispered “see, he said she was insane”

I didn’t care.

He deleted the evidence of the affair and tried to convince me I didn’t actually see anything and i had just made it up. She got ahead of the curve and told her partner I was just an awful woman with an axe to grind.

“It’s the stress of the situation, it’s because you’re sick. You’ve just lost your job. You need me”

I could scream now.

Therapy made me believe I was somehow responsible for this adult child’s inability to regulate his impulses

“He has adhd… and addiction issues… relapses will happen but you love each other. He can’t be fully held accountable for his actions you’re going to have to learn to work around these problems”.

“You both want to work on this right?”

Right?

It’s not like you have a lot going for you anyway…

One more shot… just one more.

And then while we were in the thick of working on our relationship to each other he left for work again and lived in Newcastle 5 days to 7 days a week for 6 months.

I stayed here, trying to work full time, raise 2 kids and wrap up a custody battle.. he forgot I even existed. He’d forget to call… forget to message… forget to tell the girls good night…

You can guess what happened.

Of course you can, you see the pattern. You’re not blinded.

And you know what? I definitely saw it too.

Except now? He’s adored by my girls and were newly engaged I can’t just back out now.. I can’t take away their parent.

It’s not their fault he does these things and he’s mostly so good to them… maybe I could just learn to live with this….

Maybe if I just lost the weight or tried harder to be a better wife or was more demure and less abrasive… maybe I needed to change my hair or my style or my entire personality… maybe tattoos might help.

Maybe if I changed everything about myself it might make it easier for him to want to love me…

Stacey you fucking Brussel Sprout you’re TRAUMATISED.

He didn’t need to gaslight me anymore. I was doing it to myself FOR him.

Can you believe we haven’t even hit the half way point yet.

The next ones though… these were DOOZYS.

It’s now 2019. We’re supposed to be getting married in 3 months. Guess who’s texting pictures of his dick to women on the internet again? SPOILER ALERT: It wasn’t me.

The wedding is off. We’re just living together at this point out of sheer necessity.

And that’s when things really took a turn.

I won’t get into the details because.. this bit is really REALLY sad but the highlight reel runs: a broken hand from punching a hole through the floor, a trip to the emergency mental health unit for one, $30,000.00 in debt and three of us in crisis accomodation over Christmas in a hostel later I’m now free… and he was in the local gatts bed the day I left.

Moving forwards I have my own place, I’m feeling better, I worked on myself and I was feeling great about life again.

He and I are still friends trying to maintain a friendship for the girls who still adore him. They don’t know any different and I don’t have the heart to tell them.

And then covid happened.

And he started staying more and more frequently… and he’s changed and he’d worked on himself and things were different this time…

I wanna puke I’m so dumb. DUMMMMBB.

For a while though, things actually were great. We were working together as a team, the girls were thriving and things were going well…

So why won’t he commit to long term goals?

The tension was palpable. Our friends were CONFUSED. I was devastated.

From the very beginning all I had ever asked for was for him to love me and the girls unconditionally and that we’d get married and grow our family together.

This was only ever expanded to include “and to not cheat on me”.

He swore these goals were shared. Promised these were things he wanted too and that he definitely wanted them.

So why, after 7 years of back and forth would he not ask me to marry him and make things official? He’s asked before right? Why won’t he ask again?

Why after 7 years did we have no savings, no shared major assets and no real plan to expand our family? Why did we not have a 5 year goal?

Because he didn’t want too in the first place.

I begged.

Cried.

Pleaded.

“What can I do?” I’d lament.

“Why is this just not working” I’d whisper between sobs. And he’d comfort me. Reassure me it’s not me, things are just tough… the excuses were endless.

“Why am I not enough?” I was torturing myself.

We were in the throws of twice weekly couples therapy that I’m paying a shit tonne for.

I’m doing the homework, I’m working on my communication, I’m engaging in the sessions and baring all because I’m committed to making this work.

Him?

“It’s hard for me, you know I don’t like reading. Talking about myself makes me uncomfortable, I lost the homework binders, I hate doing these exercises they’re dumb and they do nothing”.

And then guess who unexpectedly fell pregnant? Me. It was me.

I was thrilled. He was mad.

I don’t think he actually expected this to happen, I mean I know he didn’t because he accused me of cheating on him for it to have happened. I didn’t, by the way.

No matter though, a routine check up revealed this little angel wasn’t proceeding.

I spent my New Year’s Eve in a hospital alone and scared having the news confirmed to me that the child I had longed for hadn’t made it and it was time to proceed with the next steps… and then we went to a pool party so he could ignore me.

“We can’t let our friends down Stacey, they’re expecting us. It might do you some good.”

My mind was elsewhere. I was a shell. On another astral realm while my body just robotically moved on the physical plane.

He? Was on an inflatable unicorn in the pool living his best life.

Splashing and smiling and laughing like nothing was wrong.

Was I wrong? Was I wrong to feel this way? It had only been 10 weeks maybe he’s right and maybe I was just too attached to an idea…

A few days later I proceeded to endure the most traumatic medical procedure of my life. After bleeding uncontrollably for hours at home I attended the emergency department where they completed a bedside extraction without pain relief because all the ORs were contaminated with covid patients.

A 24 year old nurse named Bethany who confessed earlier she was so overwhelmed and wanted to leave the profession held my hand and let me cry into her shoulder while another nurse held my legs apart so the doctor could do what he needed to do.

He stayed home and played Spider-Man to pass the time. Granted it was during covid and it was suggested he wait outside, I didn’t expect him to go home brag about finishing the game.

Y U C K

Then there was the incident at our best friends wedding… l wasn’t myself again yet after losing the baby the month prior but it was our friends wedding and I wanted to be there.

We booked a hotel room on the premises, I wanted to make it special. I put in some EFFORT to look as hot as I could… it didn’t work.

He got trashed and threw up in a garden because he didn’t want to spend time with me. I wanted to sit next to each other and dance on the dance floor and feel the love in the room…

He staggered to the hotel room.

I stayed a little longer because it was our best friends wedding? And I wanted to enjoy it?

I danced with my friends mum.

Hopped in the Photo Booth with some friends, ate some cake and then my social battery ran dry.

Exhausted, it was my turn to stumble back to the hotel room. My swollen feet rubbing in my heels, a little tipsy from the wine and lost because the room numbers didn’t make sense.

I find my way back and he’s passed out on the bed, fully suited, shoes still on and phone in hand.

Silly man. I thought. Had too much fun.

“I’ll get his shoes off for a start.. now I’ll put his phone on charge for him…” it was still unlocked. Messages open. He was sexting our old neighbour again.

I dropped the phone. Stifled my cry.

I sat cross legged in the bottom of the shower and sobbed for hours.

The usual.

I was embarrassed and ashamed.

My friends can never know… at their wedding?!

He’d be dead by morning.

I kept it to myself. I mean I confronted him when he found me in the shower but that one I wanted to keep to myself.

I wish I didn’t.

It wasn’t long after that he went away for work AGAIN. our entire life was him disappearing for weeks to months at a time for work. This time it wasn’t too far away and it was a short trip to Bathurst for a few days but I had a hunch…

Sigh.

This is just a joke now.

Cycle repeats. There’s another woman, there are photos, there are messages and I feel sick except this time there’s an ultimatum. Do it again and this time I’ll burn your life to the ground.

He promises and I do too. He promised he’d do the right thing, I promised I’d set fire to everything we’d built together just to watch the flames cleanse and scorch the earth between us.

He went straight back to love bombing and I’d just checked out at this point, going through the motions of life waiting for the inevitable error.

Because I knew it was coming.

It could take a week, it could be 5 years but I knew it would come…. And boy oh boy did it come.

The wheels well and truly fell off the wagon when he forgot my 30th birthday and said I was dramatic for expecting him to know he had to plan something.

… what.

It’s your significant others birthday… a milestone one… you didn’t have to build me a palace dude I just wanted a fuckin’ card and maybe for you to plan something with the kids.

I was biding my time. I knew our relationship was over.

We were now approaching 10 years of …. This… and there was still no ring on my finger. No love in our house and no children running free.

25 May 2024, the break up date was set in my mind.

I was waiting it out when again… 2 little pink lines came up in August.

I didn’t want to allow myself to be hopeful but I did.

The more time went on the more excited I got and the more distant he became.

“It’s just nerves after what happened last time”

*pterodactyl screech*

NO IT’S NOOOOOTTTTT.

The Second trimester rolls around, we’re starting to tell everyone... I’m jazzed. I feel like my life’s falling into a disjointed step and things are looking relatively good… that deadlines looking really silly now. Maybe I was wrong? I wanted so BADLY to be proven wrong. I had HOPED I was wrong.

The only thing that stopped me from announcing our news to everyone we knew? We were waiting on our harmony test to confirm a gender before I told my parents who I knew would be over the fuckin’ moon.

A 15 week routine check up confirmed our daughter Emery lost her heartbeat sometime that week.

I was devastated.

Gutted.

Drowned in grief.

And I felt so alone.

I felt like I was mourning this loss and a bit more on my own and I couldn’t understand why. I knew my daughter was gone but I couldn’t understand what else I was grieving.

Subconsciously I think I knew.

Like another cruel twist of fate I woke up in the middle of the night in excruciating pain. No waves of rolling pain it was just ow. It’s labour but it’s wrong.

In the middle of the night I drove myself to the hospital and delivered my little girl on my own. The staff were incredible and concerned I was alone.

They dosed me up on morphine and I silently wept for hours.

By the time he arrived to the hospital to “support me” I was ready to go home.

I drove myself home to cry my eyes out and get our kids ready for school and he went to work like it was another normal day.

Weeks go by and I’m lost; spiraling into a deep depression and I can’t anchor myself to anything to slow the decent.

I’m stuck somewhere between sorrow and anger and a weird dissociative state that I can’t shake.

I’m trying to run my household, turn up for work, parent my children, look after myself and be a good friend and an attentive partner but I’m falling short at every turn. Everything I touch becomes sick with melancholy.

Everything I’m trying isn’t working.

And then it hits me. I’m grieving alone.

I am GRIEVING alone.

I am doing it ALL by myself. All the household chores, all the errands, all the things required to maintain a family and a relationship. I’m going to my appointments alone. I’m going through the motions alone. I’m crying alone. I’m awake at night with my heart in pieces alone. I’m reading the books alone, I’m trying to cope alone and I’m trying to love again alone.

Our intimacy disappeared as soon as he knew we were expecting and it just didn’t come back.

He was always so angry at me because I couldn’t get it together and he’s constantly on his phone… I know what this is…. I’ve seen this movie before and I know how it ends.

My heart sank.

Dread seeps in.

The insidious feeling creeps into the back of my mind and I cannot shake it.

So I did the cardinal Cardi B sin.. I went through his phone that night and I found some things I definitely didn’t like.

He was cheating the entire way through our pregnancy, loss and afterwards.

Including the night I delivered.

Who is she? Some girl i met on TikTok. How long has it been going on for? Not long, a few months.

I saw red.

I cut sick.

I went feral.

You don’t need me to tell you why.

I was definitely done this time. The ick was severe.

I screamed in agony. Ugly hot tears spewing from my eyes with pure unbridled rage. How dare you. How very fucking dare you.

I threw what I could get my hands on, clawed at my own skin to try and hold onto the pieces of my soul that were so desperately trying to escape my body… I had descended into madness.

I spat words laced with venom from a place of hurt, building and bubbling over the last 10 years all coming out like an unstoppable crescendo.

My body in a state of shock didn’t know whether to turn my brain off as a response to trauma, have a panic attack or violently grieve through the pain I felt. Somehow, it did all three.

I’m not proud of the woman I was that night… not the nights immediately after.

Grief on grief on grief on grief… I had already lost so much it had just compounded into this hideous snowball.

My best friend, my child and now my love.. what could possibly be next?

Things became extremely uncomfortable when I confirmed to him I was definitely done this time. I couldn’t look at him and feel comfort and I couldn’t find solace in his eyes anymore. All I felt was a burning hot rage and bitter, BITTER betrayal and I wanted to rip down the walls of the house we built together.

He kept telling me we could make it work that it was a mistake and he was regretful and he was committed to change this time around.

Too late bro.

The little part of me that still loved you died the second I read you had called HER the day I delivered a corpse but you couldn’t call me to check on me?

Vile.

I had always thought that I wasn’t a prize, that I wasn’t worth shit and that nobody would love me and I should be grateful for the small bits of love and the bare minimum I got.

I thought that the love and affection I had so desperately tried to cultivate just wasn’t real and only existed to serve as a plot device in fairytales.

I thought that if I left him my life would be over and the walls would collapse in. That I couldn’t live without him in my life… like I didn’t know how. I wasn’t ready to let go or maybe I didn’t want too.

Our shared trauma bonds didn’t allow me to see what a life without toxicity could be.

It was awful and tumultuous but it was familiar and it was safe.

I was terrified of starting over and petrified of being alone.

That I would somehow be judged for not being able to make this work and that somehow it would be me to blame that I couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering. That my daughters would somehow hate me for taking away their father figure.

Stupid, I know.

That night was the greatest thing to ever happen to me. As soon as I verbalised to myself and to him that whatever this was was… whatever the last decade was… was done it was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders and the dark rain cloud drowning me had dissipated.

I began to feel free.

The person I thought I lost slowly began creeping back in… I felt more and more like myself everyday.

We made the decision to run the lease out and still live together for the time being. It was only a few months. It was achievable… right?

I hated the animosity I still felt but I loved the person I was rebecoming. I thought I could do it.

I am an idiot and I was wrong.

I hadn’t told anyone about what was happening except my 6 closest friends who have supported me through this like absolute legends. If you were anywhere near my socials you would have guessed something was up but I didn’t really elaborate to anyone outside the 6.

I was happy and coping as best I could. But I wasn’t immune. Crying fits, bouts of anger and just real mean shit wasn’t uncommon… it was quickly becoming apparent this was terrible for my mental health and couldn’t be sustainable.

I can’t live with looking at the face of my trauma and he can’t live with me wanting to rip his throat out of his body any time I see an exposed neck.

Something has to give.

Flash forwards to New Year’s Eve. Some time had passed and a very nice man who had been checking in on me as a friend messaged me nicely on Instagram to wish me a happy new year and said that they were grateful to know me and was excited for us to be excellent friends in 2024.

I echoed the sentiment.

He then replied to a photo I had posted to my story to say I looked very good and that the picture itself was Lock Screen worthy.

A little cheeky, a little flirty… but I liked it.

But just like anything in this story, it’s not quite that simple because even though he was a third party with limited knowledge of the state of my personal affairs except for the fact I was vaguely single and based of that information decided to compliment a girl on the internet… he unknowingly and unwittingly set off an uncomfortable chain reaction resulting in me learning exactly who my ex lover really was and what they were actually capable of… and this poor man was unfairly caught in the crossfires of someone else’s mistakes.

And that’s something I’ll be regretful for, for the rest of my life.

Unbeknownst to me, while I was reading the nice message of appreciation for my friendship and a cheeky compliment that had my self confidence on the rise so too, was my ex partner.

Reading over my shoulder in a veiled attempt to pry into my personal life.

He was big mad.

Mad someone had the audacity to be kind to me. Mad someone had the gumption to think I was pretty. Mad someone had the gaul to tell me so. Mad someone had the hide to appreciate my friendship and what I could offer.

He was MAD mad.

I promise you, if you saw a screen shot from this extremely tame and respectful interaction you’d sit there and think … “is that it?”

No grand display of love or devotion, no vulgar sexting, no big feelings and nothing even remotely derogatory towards my ex partner. Just two pals saying “happy new year and hey, you look cute tonight by the way”.

Until that very moment when he dropped a cheeky flirt it had only ever been platonic between us…Except for the night we met 2 years ago but that’s a story for another time haha.

So why… why was this man reacting like I’d tipped his mother’s ashes down the sink? Like he was somehow still entitled to me and the love I want to give and receive?

He stormed out of the room and disappeared for hours to sulk… I was confused. We weren’t together, it’s not my place to pry into his personal life and whatever’s got him upset… I guess I’ll let him go…

until I get a message from the nice man that read something like:

“Hey, uh I don’t want to start shit but I’m a little concerned… who is this guy and why is he liking my photos from years ago?”

… what.

The screenshots came in.

They didn’t know each other. I was their only mutual friend. I hadn’t mentioned this man by name. He doesn’t go by his legal name on the internet let alone his Instagram handle… How did he know who he was?

“I’m so sorry I’ll handle it”.

We duke it out. Not my best choice to do it infront of a giant glass window.

Our new years guests couldn’t hear what was happening but they sure could see…

I was in protective mode for a man I barely knew but why should this man be a victim of intensive cyber stalking for complimenting me? Why should his privacy be invaded like that because my ex couldn’t get his shit together and fumbled the bag?

None of that is this nice man’s fault.

Besides, WE WEREN’T EVEN TOGETHER. WHY DID IT MATTER SOMEONE ELSE WAS NICE TO ME.

More venom fell out.

“There’s been a line behind you waiting for an opportunity this entire time, you only held your place at the front because I left that place open for you”

Not my best work, but definitely a pivotal moment for my own self confidence because… there WAS a line. I AM desirable. I AM wanted. I CAN be loved and I don’t need to torture myself by staying with someone who can’t offer basic respect let alone something more.

I’ve got goals. I’ve got places I wanna be. I have achievements I wanna tick off and I don’t want to be held back anymore by an emotionally deficient fuck boy.

And I realised I can live my best life with my good Judy’s by my side, my girls by my side and my family by my side.

I mean it would be nice right to have someone love you and see you and love your kids unconditionally and have the same shared interests or goals… but I’m the master of my own destiny and fuck anyone that gets in the way of that.

Anyway, he flipped it.

So much so he did the unthinkable.

Now I understand being upset. I understand acting on impulse and I understand hitting someone where it hurts when they’ve wronged you if it’s deserved.

WHEN it’s deserved.

Over 10 years of knowing someone you come to learn quite a bit about them and what really gets them excited and in turn what really upsets them.

He absorbed my secrets, my fears and my insecurities just to weaponise them against me.

Cheating on me is one thing.

Lying to me is another.

Taking one of the worst parts of my life and making me relive it for your own entertainment and manipulation? NEW LEVEL OF FUCKERY UNLOCKED.

Over the next few days I started to receive some pretty nasty anonymous messages… some I posted to my story some I didn’t.

Most were targeted at me and my appearance, some were targeted at the man that was messaging me to spread rumour, some at my kids and some were targeted at my ex partner.

I’ve been the victim of a hate campaign before so these messages were admittedly quite triggering. They preyed on the most insidious thoughts that live in the back of my mind.

Who was this person? Why would they say these things to me? The only people sending me these messages are people I already know and I can’t imagine these people saying such awful things…

My mental health took a slight sidestep and I went full undercover operative.

I set up my own little investigation. No one was more surprised when it lead me to him.

No.. I must be wrong it couldn’t be…

Until it was with out a doubt confirmed when he stupidly dropped the nice man’s legal name in an anonymous message.

There were only 4 people who knew we were talking to each other let alone his name and I definitely didn’t send the message… neither did the nice man… my best friend certainly wouldn’t have done it so it left only one option.

I paid for premium access to the NGL app. Got the clues I needed about the sender of the messages and confronted him.

He lied.

He always does.

Even when confronted with the truth.

Tried to gaslight his way out of it. Again. But it wouldn’t work this time.

The proof was right in front of us. I had the very compelling evidence. It couldn’t be disputed.

After trying to lie for a 4th time he confessed it was true and he did send some of those nasty ass messages in an attempt to manipulate my self confidence, sow the seeds of deceit between the nice man and I so I wouldn’t want to talk to him anymore and to make me feel sorry for him for all the hate he was getting online.

Again, like a bull charging at a waving flag I saw RED.

“You have a month. Get out of my house. Never speak to me again.”

This was a new low. A real ugly point. I had never cheated on him. I’d never betrayed his trust. I’d never been intentionally mean like this.

Why…

W H Y .

I immediately unfriended him off what I could. What I couldn’t, I blocked.

We weren’t friends. We never truly were. Friends don’t hurt each other like that. Friends don’t do shit like that. That’s enemy behaviour.

Only someone who despises you would do those things, any of those things let alone all of those things over a prolonged period of time.

I didn’t think this could get any worse and yet there I was… publicly bullied by my ex on the internet for his own enjoyment.

It’s time. It’s time to tell everyone. My parents… my siblings… our wider network of friends… my girls.

My girls….

Sitting the girls down was tough… an activity I never want to do again.

A conversation I thought we would have with them together to tell them we couldn’t make it work and their stepdad would be leaving - the last little honourable thing he could do… apologise to them… be honest with them… love them… and let them go gently ended up with me in tears telling them on my own that everything had fallen apart and mum was sorry.

My best friend holding one daughter while I held the other. And we all cried.

My best friend was the one helping me to explain everything to our daughters and work through the complex emotions we were all feeling. Drying tears, answering questions and reminding them this isn’t their fault…

They were devastated. My eldest fumed and my youngest sobbed in pain… their first real heartbreaks.

I’m grateful for her everyday. I’m grateful for her kindness, her love and her support but this wasn’t heartbreak she had to endure. This wasn’t her responsibility to step in… it was his.

He aimlessly folded the same piece of washing and watched the conversation unfold.

He didn’t say a word.

If I had felt guilty before asking him to leave, putting my girls first or leaning into the nice man’s advances I definitely didn’t now.

… And I still don’t.

“2nd of Feb dude, you gotta be outta here. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have anywhere else I won’t put us all through this anymore you need to make your arrangements and your exit from stage left”

I’m in my healing era. My lover girl era. My ‘be a better friend’ era. My ‘be an excellent mum’ era. My stand up for myself era. My evolution era.

And I will not lie, romance has indeed found me along the way.

And I’m so okay with that.

It’s unconventional. It’s different. It’s kind and respectful. It’s considerate and tender. It’s FUN. it’s goofy and it’s pure…

I’m pretty sure it feels like it’s supposed to.

It’s not a fight to the death every day. It’s not a struggle. It’s not nights crying myself to sleep wondering where I went wrong (it was most nights that we were together… I won’t lie). It’s not toxic fights that have me worried about what’s going to be broken this time.

I don’t need to wonder if this man actually likes me, he makes sure I know.

It’s honest and supportive and REAL…

and it’s a steep learning curve.

I have a lot of unlearning to do and behaviours to quash to be a better version of myself… not just for myself but for everyone in my orbit but for the first time in a long time I’m excited for what happens next.

The next few months will be hard financially, emotionally and physically.

But I have a kick ass gang of friends, 2 amazing daughters who under the circumstances are thriving, a fantastic therapist (shout out gabz the big dawg) and someone I can invest all my extra love into and is more than happy to send it right back.

I’m going for surgery in a week, I have a plan in place to correct my health and I’m pushing myself to be the best possible version of myself not just for me or for them… but for you too, dear reader.

Given so much of my life was shared openly and then used against me to hurt me by people I trusted and loved I can’t say for certain this level of openness will remain.

Some aspects of my life will be kept just for me, my girls lives will still stay off the internet until they’re ready (occasional happy snaps and tidbits will still flow freely don’t worry about that), I’ll still share the cool shit I’m up to with work, the dumb shit my friends and I get amongst and life events with my new significant other will be shared when and if I find one.

But only if and when I want too.

And I won’t use social media to cover up my extreme unhappiness.

Not everything you see on the internet is real and I too have played a part in that.

Relationships are complex, no one has the perfect one and keeping up appearances only gives you more heartache than what it’s worth.

So if there’s any wisdom I can impart on you it’s this:

💜 You are more than your relationships.

💜 Fuck the haters, they’re gonna chat shit anyway you might as well give them something to talk about.

💜 You are precious and deserve to be protected and loved and to be happy.

💜 don’t settle because you’re expected to.

💜 You can cut parts of yourself down but no matter how far you trim you’ll never fit into the box you think you should be in.

If you don’t fit, get a bigger box.

💜 Nothing on the internet is real.

💜 Sometimes letting go is necessary to heal.

💜 Love will find you in the most unexpected of ways and in the most unexpected places.

💜 Listen to your friend that gets the weird vibes, they’re usually right.

💜 The NSW healthcare system both sucks and is excellent at the same time.

💜 Do what you want, it’s not too late to start over. You’re gonna die eventually… live the life you want.

💜 Live in the now and the future. The past is a place we can visit but you cannot live there.

💜 Just because you’re happy sometimes it doesn’t outweigh the heartache all the time.

💜 Don’t sacrifice yourself. For anyone.

💜 People will understand eventually.

💜 Just because you can do everything on your own doesn’t mean you have too

💜 You shouldn’t suffer in silence or alone.

💜 HABITUAL CHEATERS WON’T CHANGE

And thus ends a 10 year tale of a strong AF girlie who is owning a new, better phase of HER life.

She rescued herself from the damn tower, set her daughters free, reacquainted herself with her besties and picked up a cutie on the way out to get Starbucks.

I’m writing new pages in a book I thought I’d finished and I’m excited to see the life that’s out there waiting for me. I’m excited to reacquaint myself with myself again. I’m excited for new experiences, better relationships with everyone around me and not having to wear shoes inside to avoid the broken egg shells and bits of ego on the floor.

And him? Feeling sorry for himself I guess. Or not. I’m not sure and I don’t think I care to find out.

Maybe he’s realised what he’s lost, maybe he’s awake in the middle of the night languishing in pain, maybe he’s grieving or maybe he’s just fine and couldn’t care less.

Either way, my thoughts don’t live there anymore, they live with me.

“You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same cursing my name, wishing I stayed… You turned into your worst fears…

And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain and crossing out the good years… and you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed… Look at how my tears ricochet” - Taylor Swift

[oscar-wildes-boyfriend]

Falling (Asleep)

summary: Crowley stops by Aziraphale’s bookstore to tell him something :)

Rating: G, this is just fluff guys, I am really quite one sided

Word Count: 714

Aziraphale heard a knock at the door, which was strange, seeing that the closed sign had been turned and the lights were out. Despite any inconvenience the lights being out caused, the prospect of having a potential buyer of books in his bookstore was so much worse. Aziraphale looked outside, it was raining. Why, he thought, would anyone even choose to be outside at this time, much less knocking at his clearly closed bookstore.

“Angel, let me in, please. I don’t want any of your books, I promise.”

Crowley.

Of course.

Why would he expect anything else?

“Coming, just give me a moment!” Aziraphale miracled away the mess that had become of his seating area. Not that Crowley would mind, but Aziraphale would. He put on his slippers.

“Angel, I don’t have a moment, if I stand out in the rain any longer I’m going to melt.”

Aziraphale opens the door, looking into the yellow eyes of one very damp Crowley.

“Crowley, dear, you may be a demon, but you will not melt in water. If I recall correctly, that was reserved for witches.”

“Haha, very good Zira,” Crowley replied, quickly ducking into the bookstore. He really was quite damp. “You know, I was the one who invented the flying monkeys. Baum originally wanted flying pigs… but flying monkeys, now that’s an idea. Plus, I did manage to traumatize an entire generation in one go.”

“That is true, Crowley.” Aziraphale said, more than used to Crowley’s bragging. There was a time and place where he might have scolded the demon for causing pain to those poor kids, but that time had passed. Though Aziraphale still would give the parents of those kids a stern talking to forever thinking that The Wizard of Oz was an okay movie to show their kids. He really ought to try and get the rating changed on that movie.

“Well, Angel I would give you a hug but…”

“No I really don’t think that is necessary, though I appreciate the sentiment?” Aziraphale responded, laughing just a little. He was sweet, if nothing else.

There was a bit of tension between them, ever since their last meetup. Not bad, by any means, almost good. It was the type of tension that suggested a new beginning, a new era if you will, to their relationship. But neither was quite sure if they were ready for this. Both the demon and angel had put off changes to their relationship for millennia, quite literally, so why change now? It would only complicate things.

At this point Crowley was making a near puddle on the floor, “Would you like to sit down,” Aziraphale said, gesturing to the couch. “I could get you a towel?”

But as Aziraphale turned back Crowley was dry. Nothing a little miracle could not fix, he guessed.

“I could go for a sit. I have something I wanted to ask you anyways.”

“Oh, really,” Aziraphale said, curious. Nervous, but not really. It was Crowley, after all. “I have some cookies in the oven, sugar cookies, if you want to wait like 15 minutes.

“That sounds just fine with me Angel, I’ll be on the couch.”

Aziraphale waited in the kitchen, making some tea. He knew the demon would probably not eat any of his cookies, but he reached up and above his cabinets and grabbed a bottle of red wine. It wasn’t often Aziraphale got to tempt the demon.

The timer rang and Aziraphale took the cookies out, placing them on a plate. He walked out to Crowley and spotted the demon’s feet hanging off the side of the couch, his lanky body fully spread out.

Oh, Crowley.

Some people have the propensity for falling asleep very quickly. Aziraphale appreciated the idea but could not follow through himself, he really did not need to sleep, being an angel and all. Crowley did not need to either, but sleep was an art, according to Crowley, and if Crowley was anything, he was an artist. At least at sleep.

Aziraphale sat in the chair next to the couch Crowley had taken over, with a novel and some tea, maybe a bit of wine, later. He could wait to talk to Crowley till he woke up, after all, he had waited this long.

[junsei-draws-rotasu]

Monkie Kid: A Hero Is Born Live blog rewatch

Before I can go to S3, the season I left off and avoided for sometime until it’s available to watch, I needed to refresh my memory.

Oh wow straight to the intro

I also forgot that this has the same studio that animated ROTTMNT cuz the animation is sick!

Fun fact I only started to watch this because of a TIKTOK video of Macaque

The fight sciences scenes😍

Not SWK trapping DBK under a mountain just like Buddha did to him 🙂

Is this how the Journey to the West really ended? I really want to read but I don’t have it in me to read it. I’m just waiting for Overly Sarcastic Productions to make their video

Wow, sick translation Narrator

Ngl I forgot how Monkie Kid characters sounds like. With the fanfics I had read I genuinely written off Tang having a smooth gentle voice

Although MK’s voices caught me off guard

!!! I never noticed this!

This is a nice wallpaper

A warthog vs a pig in cooking… not sure who’s going to win this one /s

M.K. has some nice jams to listen too

M.K. is like me with phone screens. Never bother fixing them :,)

There's our impulsive Monkey!

How does M.K. do that?! How did he climbs—ah anime cartoon logic combined together is dumber than normal

You know I just realized. If this was an anime, you know they would put fan service on Iron Fan Princess

Even SWK was surprised at MK

Is that bull a robot or those arms are just prosthetics?

Oh, it is a Robot… you would think the Robots they created wouldn’t have this much emotions in them.

“Deemed worthy can hold it” what is this? Excalibur?

Just what kind of mystic did you infuse in that gauntlet?

Oh wow, Red Son you actually did it! Didn’t remember that

Can you even call that a mountain anymore? It turned into a hill!

Ooooo, didn’t remember that broken horn on DBK

“I had returned to the world of the living!” You didn’t die DBK, just sealed 😒

"No go away" *proceeds to peck* SWK you little shit

Aw, Red Son’s little face when DBK said excellent 🥹

What’s nothing more romantic than having your first meeting of your partner than landing on them… literally

I’m just giddy and amused by Red Sons antics on trying to look cool and impress his father

“Noodle boy” Oop, he said it!

Really want to put ADHD on M.K.’s character sheet cuz he just zoned out by looking at SWK staff

The two kids in the room having exaggerated expressions while the adults are just there with tired and confuse expression XD

Ah, I seem to forget that M.K. is also a little shit

With DBK’s exaggerated movements, I think I know where Red Son’s love of theatrics came from

The vehicle looks out of place

Not the noodles!

Red Son, why are you always ready to combust?… actually wait, don’t answer that

Oh that poor women’s apartment! How will she pay for it???

“Pigsy going to kill me🥹” Not if Red Son kills you first

Does the actual toy of the car really have a motorcycle inside?

Now how did Mei know M.K. was in trouble?

Ows, the property damage 😬

We all need Mei as a friend. I would know, because I am her

Something rare and expensive… go to a museum, but remembering the plot, it has to be a shoe

I'm sooo using this as a reaction

Props to the cashier to tell an intimidating person to go back in line

This feels like a fever dream but it's not

They’re immediately got to Flower Fruit Mountain?! Where’s the gag of day and night cycles going too fast?! Missed opportunity really

Technology defeated magic, oh how Rise!Donnie would be so smug

Here’s the cliche protag team thinking the MC is dead but they’re really not

Aw 🥺

You know they’re really angry when they’re smiling instead of raging

To think that staff used to be a pillar of a Sea Dragon God

Not my boy M.K. releasing the recent traumatic event he went through

Comparing Sha Wujing and Sandy… they look nothing alike… is this why people likes to write fanfics where Sandy killed Sha Wujing?

Yeah I don’t recall this magical sequence…

Aw, M.K. 🥹

Once again, I’m taken back at the voice

And here I thought it was fanon that SWK had his eye on M.K. as his successor for a while

Man, I would be mad at SWK for thrusting this kid into this situation but I remember now SWK is sooooo

“You believe in ourselves” that… does sound like a good plan

Convenient

Wow M.K. got rebirth into a stone egg

I was about to comment on how history going to repeat itself then I remember the future episodes I’m going to watch and DBK clearly not trap under something

Ow, that’s going to hurt

I’m having severe flashbacks of Krang vs Leo fight here qwq

Here’s the toy shot

I finally get it! Red Son's nickname for Mei! It's because Mei represents the dragon that turned into a horse in the Journey to the West! Wow!

And finished!

[let-the-living-beware]

Here is a little rant from me :')

The more I look at my Oc's the more I hate them, the more I hate my writing. I have like 20 drafts ready to go with long as fics but I can't seem to publish them. I always wanted to write and include my own character, heck even write my own book but the more I get to that finish line, the more I don't wanna do it anymore. I see all of these amazing artist on here, especially in the DL community, with great art and even greater Oc's. And the more I see them the more I...hate mine ig.

I just feel like that Laiko/Cora (my most fleshed out Oc's) are just not right and to basic. Like they are something everyone already did and they don't have any right to be there in the first place. It's like I am looking at them and I see their flaws and I am afraid. I wanted to introduce them properly but I can't with how mich I change every second. I have so many ideas but they all seem basic, like I am as a human being worth nothing and so are the things I am passionate about. It just... Its complicated and maybe I should just show it with an example?

Here is Laiko for example. Laiko was send to the Tsukinami to end a political "war" between her race and the founders but she doesn't really want that the more she grows up and makes herself useful as a spy in the war against Karl. After they found out that she had connections to Cora (Karls sister), they accuse her of treason and she has to flee right before the founders get sealed away. When she finally came back to her parents, her father didn't see her as his daughter because she was the product from an affair and she got used as a sort of Guinea pig for an experiment. Long said short she got transported into a different body that was a hybrid of her race and the founders.

This is the short version and I hate EVERYTHING about it. Nothing besides the treason part really was traumatic so it isn't like "put a bunch of trauma into that character" and even the experiment wasn't like forced on her it was on her free will she just didn't like the outcome of her new body. But I still don't like it and think it is to cliche, like something everyone already did (not that that's a bad thing) and I am just copy pasting anoth character from another story, from someone who is better than me. The other thing is also the new race part. This fantasy race of mine is something I have since I was like 8 years old and I wanted to put them into a story for like forever but now that I did it, it feels wrong. It is an AU and the rules can be a bit different of course but I feel bad about it.

I feel bad about writing Fanfics in general when I really think about it. I feel bad about writing characters that don't belong to me and even belong to me but I wanna write. I just feel like I don't have the right, like I am...how shall I put it? I am not good enough.

[happilestangi]

He made me a victim

And Then they punished me for it

I’ve been treated like a slave

By everybody

Because apparently

that was the only role I fit in

The best relationship I thought I had

Wasn’t even real to begin with

Every time I asked

He just confirmed my suspicions

I know I’m valuable

I know I have grit, competence

Sometimes even confidence

I have so many talents

So far only to have been wasted on pigs

I wonder when

I’ll be able to share my gifts

With people who actually deserve them?

Where do I find these people?

They must be somewhere here

Some very small number compared to 8 billion

I could sense some saw me, wanted me

But expected me to come up to them

And make it all about them

Sorry but I’m traumatized

I’ve let all the wrong people come in my life and wreak havoc

Every friend has at one point turned shockingly into my enemy

LA people are all I’ve experienced

I don’t trust anybody

So please understand,

I’m not going to come up to you

Or talk to you For any reason

I’m terrified of the common human

If anybody’s truly a good And deserving person,

they will See me struggling, and try to help me (God’s plan)

I guess that’s what my optimistic mind Expects and never gets

As always, the opportunistic people

Are the only ones who ever meet me

The ones who will take something I need in return for a “service” I could’ve done by myself

I guess I’m also just disappointed

That nobody deserved me

Nobody saw what’s right in front of them

I also just didn’t see the reason

Who am I anyway, to reach out to a world that constantly tries to haunt me, while I’m alone, even sleeping?

It’s like asking a dangerous monster to assist me

It’s never going to happen

If nobody has the bravery to meet me

And be ready to accept all that I am

Then I don’t need them

I’ll just keep doing everything alone

And create what I can

It’s ok, as I walk, God walks along with me

[minerscanarybyvanessacarlton]

All due respect, but this is a ridiculous take.

First of all, the idea that someone gains the ability to decide what books to read at 16 or 17 is absolutely deranged. We let fifteen year olds play horrendously violent video games, give them access to little rectangles with increasingly violent porn and online echo chambers that reward their worst impulses, fuck we charge them as adults for crimes. But deciding what to read is a step too far? Come. The. Fuck. On. Teenagers aren't adults, but they're not toddlers either. They can handle new concepts or being momentarily uncomfortable, or having their worldview challenged.

Second of all, I get that I was a "reading at a college level when I was 11" type, but when I was a kid, if I didn't understand something in a book, I asked any of the adults in my life (to whom I'm very very grateful for encouraging me to read whatever the fuck I wanted) or looked it up, or just glossed over it, or, because apparently preteen me had a better sense of my own agency in my life than you do now, just put the book down. I wasn't damaged, or traumatized, or confused.

And even now, at the age of 31 in a week and a half, I still read things I don't understand or fully grasp or that are new concepts. Because you don't magically gain all of the world's knowledge at the age when some random helicopter parent on Tumblr deems you capable. You build that knowledge through being exposed to it. You're not setting up kids for success by deciding "they're not ready" you're setting them up to have a narrow worldview, which I'm sorry is a much bigger example of failure than them not finishing a book because they decided it was too much for them, which they're perfectly capable of doing. Just like how they know they can turn off a TV show or close an Internet tab.

And I'm not a parent, but my closest friends all are, and if you told any of their kids that something I'm a book was too complex for them to understand, or that they couldn't handle it, their reaction would be "you wanna bet?" And I'd point out that my friends are also always encouraging them to read whatever books they want, because the idea that they should be limiting their child's intellectual and emotional development horrifies them more than the idea that their kid might learn what a penis is from the romance novels that their mom pretends she doesn't ravenously read.

I know you want to sit here and pretend that you're not like all the moms for liberty types who think that their kid being confronted with potentially uncomfortable topics is going to irreparably damage them, but you very much are, no matter how much you go "I'm a writer!!!" You just think that the thing that's gonna damage them is being introduced to complex topics instead of the ones who think that the thing that's gonna damage kids is reading about black people.

Not to be too mean here, but none of what you said in your reblog is something I would say out loud because I would be too embarrassed about how absolutely pig ignorant it made me look. And I would certainly not tell the entire internet that I hold opinions like this while being a writer. I genuinely hope that your kid(s?) has *an* adult in their life who understands that they have a right to learn about the world in whatever way they choose and to read whatever they want even if they might struggle with it and even (and in many instances, especially) if it pisses you off.

There is genuinely no such thing as an inappropriate book for a child.

[writer59january13]

Fretfully aching to feel fit as a fiddle

After experiencing a severe, albeit violent near lethal bout

of irritable bowel syndrome (yesterday night August 30th, 2023)

triggered courtesy dulcolax caplets plus

healthy portion of lentils, I (a beatle browed, foo fighting,

night ranger needing nirvana)

imperiled me to twist and shout as a whirling dervish analogous

to F5 tornado bread a deep purple to kiss earth, wind and fire hopscotching across terrestrial plain.

Irritable bowel syndrome

in my pinion wracked

lower abdominal area (mine) bubbled, gurgled and ballooned

sub stomach gastrointestinal tract

vis a vis flatulence crooned in tandem with subsequent expulsion

explosively eliminated fecal waste witnessed this scribe forcibly

zipping, sprinting, jetting to bathroom,

self propulsion (a race against time)

nsync with contraction of sphincter muscles'

spasmodically, desperately braced

body electric of mine hurled

at light speed across the universe

courtesy unpleasant symptoms

that mimicked anxiety/ panic attack,

which tortuousness, odorousness, insidiousness,

horrendousness, gaseousness, arduousness... played mean game of (gastrointestinal

knick knack paddywhack havoc.

Ofttimes in the past

irritable bowel syndrome

affrighted, afflicted, and affected me,

hence yours truly no stranger

to making light of offal plight and even managing to craft poem

else my alias not mister rhyme stir,

who found himself held hostage self barricaded in the water closet, where thoughts about mooning

did not crack a smile,

more explicitly baring derriere

tubby more exact humor did little to cheer me up -

matter of fact

no source of laughter manifested, (despite usual presence of chuckles

from this fan of good humor) hijacked for what seemed a maternity leave

from all mothers tub be

thus envision, a bevy of pregnant gals

aching with cramps heave

ving (times square of the hippopotamus)

with cervix fully dilated key

ping alert, when mother nature ready

to pull out all stops (via umbilical cord) to deliver bundle of joy followed

in quick succession with after birth re:

placental sack, hence

said effort to expel newborn

the closest scenario

experienced ill suited

to Saint Vitus dance afflicting this anxiety prone

lovely bones, an all expense paid (seat of the pants)

accursed bane of proletariat grants no truce to attend

found me pampered doubled over stance.

Modus operandi to distract against acute pain crisis yielded impossible mission

exhibited courtesy haphazard poem

awaiting unsolicited feedback across rock of ages woke beguiling ghostly busty spectre courtesy Marie-Antoinette, (i.e. bride of France's arty choke King Louis XVI) bespoke

let him eat cake, and (sic) send back the bloody bloke,

aye suddenly begot idea rye Jack Corner of zee desk didst impale and provoke moderately painful injury right side rib cage

analogous to intriguing unfortunate circumstance mysterious secret shrouded

as dagger and cloak

(think Alfred E. Neuman, viz MAD Magazine), yes no joke

lovely bones of me body electric,

(particularly right side rib cage)

severely traumatized, nailed, injured...

crucified oft told umteen times,

yet omitting key mirrors and smoke,

significant Dorian Gray parallel,

when former antique,

viz secrétaire looking glass reflection, spider hairline fractures radiated

resembled bay of pigs in a poke

ham handedly oinked, quaked, shattered... broke

into bajillion pieces deafening, exploding, glowering thunder stroke jagged shrapnel size shards

unleashed cosmic force

lacerated, gnashed, beribboned...

impeaching flesh with one engulfed masterstroke,

no rhyme nor reason aiming to choke

off promising poet (ha) of corpse

resembling scrambled egg yolk posthumous fame besmoke

salvaged mine besmirched reputation courtesy humble cartoon character

bugs bunny and kinfolk spoke

daffy fully goofily

eulogizing humor did evoke.