#young & hungry

[mx-jinxous]

I’ve been throwing around this idea in my head and so far this is what I have written. I’m hoping to add to it down the road. This is a modern day supernatural au. 

---

Eddie came back to dried blood covering his hands, Johnny Cash playing softly in the background. Turning his head to the side he noted the world was filled with trees as it sped past him, unfamiliar territory. His breath hitched as a hand wrapped around his, squeezing it firmly. Whipping his head to the side, ready to attack whoever was beside him, but still seeing his uncle. His eyes were on the road as he drove, one hand on the wheel as they drove through the terrain. 

When his mind finally settled his breath picked up in a panic. The memories flooded back, the desperation of his uncle rushing them away as he called someone, both men stained in blood of Eddie’s latest victim. The grip on his hand tightened while Eddie covered his mouth. He remembered walking with Gareth after band practice, the sun beginning to set as they cut through the forest. Usually they practiced at the younger's house but his parents had forbidden practice that day as the local church pastor was visiting. So practice had taken place at another band member's home, which Jeff lived across town from the both of them. 

They were just talking about their D&D campaign for tomorrow night, Gareth trying to wrangle information out of him. It was like he blinked and he was standing over Gareth’s body, covered in blood and stomach oddly full when he was just starving moments before. He panicked, ran home to Wayne. The next thing he registered was the truck ride, his stomach sinking as clarity came over him. He was covered in his best friend's blood, inside and out, and he'd left him there. 

Without warning, he threw open the truck door, ripping away from Wayne, and meeting the earth below. His uncle had hit the brakes just in time to avoid too much damage, throwing the truck into park as he rushed to his nephew's side. He gathered Eddie’s curly locks as the young man gagged and tainted the ground with red liquid. He whispered comforting words to the young man as the ground became more and more red. It wasn’t until the gagging turned to whimpering did he pull Eddie back into a hug, letting him hide in his shoulder.

“I know kiddo… I know.” He hushed, rocking Eddie like he had when he was a child. “We have to keep going, though. We’re almost to the safe haven.” He received a nod, helping his nephew up on shaky legs and back into the truck. They sped back off into the forest, silence filling when Eddie’s shaky breaths lessened.

Five minutes passed before the silence broke, the metal head keeping his eyes on the trees outside. “Is he… did I-.”

“He was breathing when I got him to the hospital.” That’s all Wayne could say, that’s all he knew since they fled after taking Gareth to the hospital. Resting his head against the window, ducking into his jacket. The truck went silent once more, Johnny Cash the only voice filtering the space.

Graduating high school had seemed to be the largest obstacle in his life, up until puberty hit and sent him into a nosedive of issues. The moment he realized he couldn’t pretend anymore was a usual night of his senior year. He’d gone out to make a nice chunk of money for this new amp he’d seen at a local mom and pop shop. By the time he’d called it a night he’d been hungry. He knew his uncle had work that night and knew that he was running low on his stash.

He’d meant to stop by the nearest butchers before they closed, but a busy weekend night had kept him out later than intended. Wayne hadn’t bothered him to keep up since his ailment started to bloom after he hit puberty. He wasn’t freaked out the day Eddie came out of his bedroom, panicked over red eyes and extruding fangs with hunger pains that brought tears to his eyes. Instead he embraced his nephew, making deals with friends to obtain animal blood.

Since then he hadn’t skipped the butchers, so this loss of control was something new and terrifying. He’d felt the unusual hunger cramps at practice, but he’d decided to ignore it until he got home. His friend had paid the price for his ignorance.

The truck came to a stop not long after, pulling Eddie out of his head to see a three story log cabin that was easily five times bigger than their trailer. A scream echoed through the forest and to Eddie’s ear, making the young man look around. The surrounding forest was filled with children running around, playing some form of tag without a care in the world. Certainly the pure opposite of what the metal head needed. 

“Come on kid.” His uncle ushered him out of the truck. With reservations, Eddie tucked his hand beneath his armpits, concealing the destroyed clothes beneath. He hadn’t had the chance to change as his uncle threw his life in a duffle and rushed him into the old vehicle to wheel them off to bum-fuck nowhere.

“You’re sure about this old man? There are a lot of kids around here, not really the most ideal place for an unhinged monster.” He mumbled as he tucked into himself, the scent of stale blood that had surely stained his shirt by now filtered his nose.

“I swear kid, these aren’t normal children. Some of them may be your age if not older. Hopper and Joyce are understanding and will keep you safe. Once I do some damage control I’ll be back for you, okay.”

“You trust me?” Eddie huffed as the kids seemed to note their visitors, one disappearing inside while the others watched.

“I do, son. I swear to you I’ll be back, I ain’t your dad. A month or two and you will see me back here with the rest of your stuff. Until then try and get along with them.” The metal head only huffed in response, looking anywhere but his uncle's eyes. He felt guilty for putting so much on his uncle's shoulders. “Come on.” Wayne said, giving Eddie’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before throwing open his door. Eddie huffed, following his uncle out of the car. 

“Wayne!” A voice boomed across the forest, the scurry of animals being heard in the distance as a smile plagued his uncle. He turned to face the man, who swiftly crossed the yard with open arms.

“Hop! God you don’t age do you.” Wayne pulled him into a hug, a woman following with two boys on her heels, one looking around Eddie’s age and one just a teenager. The man - Hop - backed away only for the woman to pull the older man into a squeezing hug.

“Oh Wayne, you’re a sight for sore eyes! We were so pleased to hear from you after so long, what’s it been, a decade?”

“Sixteen years, Joyce. I didn’t mean to go radio silent, I just… I had to step up and take care of my own.” Stepping back from the two, Wayne wrapped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “This is Eddie.”

“Oh dear. When you said you had someone coming to stay for a while, I never assumed your son, or the fact that you had a kid.”

“Afraid not darlin’. This is my idiot brother's boy, but he’s more like my boy. Kenney was a deadbeat if you remember him from his brief stay here.”

“Oh yes, the asshat decided to pick a fight with Steve.” The eldest boy grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Hasn’t changed much. The only thing he ever did right is right here and he couldn’t even bother after a decade. We’ve hit a snag though. I appreciate you letting my boy stay.” Joyce stepped forward, grabbing Eddie by the arm, pulling him into a hug.

“Nonsense! Eddie, you are Wayne’s family, so you are welcome here. Come, let me show you to your room, it was your uncle’s when he was your age.” 

“That’s kind of you.” He mumbled, pulling away and huddling behind his uncle. He twirled his hair in his fingers, watching the blood stained strand curl.

“Your uncle’s been in our family since we all were young, came from the same home. You are welcomed with open arms, but we will need to understand you and your gift more. Let’s go inside and get an understanding of your gift.” Hopper led the way, through the kids looking on in interest.

“Before we start, can we get you boys anything? A drink? A snack? It must have been a long trip.” Wayne looked over at his nephew, noting the way Eddie was withdrawn, taking it upon himself to answer.

“No, that’s alright Joyce. I’d like to explain and I’m sure Eddie would like to change his clothes. We didn’t have much time in our rush.”

“Of course. Have a seat and explain what happened.” They all sat in the small office, Eddie tucked against his uncle’s side like he had as a kid.

“Well Eddie’s ability is closely related to vampires. He’s lived by drinking blood since he was sixteen, and we try to keep his diet balanced between the blood and regular food, but last night something happened. He must have had a change in his metabolism that I didn’t account for or something. I don’t know the whole story, but -.”

“I was just so hungry. One minute we’re walking home from practice, the next I’m looking down at… he looked so scared and drained.” Eddie curled in on himself, shoulders tensing as Wayne wrapped an arm around his nephew. 

[melissa-titanium]

in reference to my last rb;

you could say mother. he's very close with his adoptive sister :)

red or purple. he's very blue, but a LOT of koboreals are very blue. the only exceptional thing about his appearance is his terrifyingly vibrant red eyes. also red is his favorite color because blood.

he used to enjoy killing small animals that were in the castle and would dissect them and hide or bury the remains in various spots; usually in his or his sister's room. he only stopped because he realized he could kill other dragons instead. when he mentions this fact to anyone, he laughs it off which is usually unsettling.

i vaguely know what this means but not enough to. deduce an answer uhhh

his scars. koboreals tend to favor scarred dragons because it shows theyre strong and able to fend for themselves & survive through hard moments, and he REALLY latched onto that from a young age. he's a little more wreckless than he needs to be

well there's a lot that remind me of him so it's hard to choose, but one i have on my mind rn is youre going down by sick puppies. his music taste is just mine, but to match with my headworld i think he would really like classical/piano music.

anything and everything embarassing he's done haunts him, but his definition of 'embarassed' is just extra violently angry. i'd say losing a fight, but to *HIM* losing a fight is leaving the opponent alive, which he never does. maybe the times he's on occasion flirted with dragons on missions (he's very charming, cannibalism be damned) and they flirt back. its the only embarassing thing that doesnt make him unfathomably angry -- he just can't bring himself to be pissed over it.

he IS a vampire. he's technically also a werewolf. but i think if you had to choose i'd say werewolf. maybe he'd stop drinking people's blood. (who am i kidding, he probably wouldnt)

purple scarf with burnt tip

httyd. he would be like if toothless was just a wild animal with no empathy or compassion and also was really fucking hungry. for blood

i need to fully decide on this. mel's bed is a huge water bed shaped like a jellyfish but he is ME so he would probably sleep like me. flat on his stomach. he has no sheets, he's a koboreal and koboreals don't get cold; ESPECIALLY NOT HIM. he does not snore and does not sleepwalk. you'd expect both because of how loud and deranged he is when conscious, but he sleeps like a dead body.

he would probably choose koketira but i think he'd make the best podcast with amara. they'd probably just do some kind of chatter podcast talking about their experiences. too bad technology is tasreradian exclusive.

spinosaurus.

he is canonically really good at dancing; but AWFUL at freestyle. he can only do it well if he's told exactly what to do, but because of his inability to take advice without getting real bitchy about it, he never gets a chance to shine.

killing and eating people. he's awful he's literally a terrible person i could list so many but mostly his egotistical-ness and his lack of compassion for other creatures. he doesn't believe he's at the center of the universe, merely that everyone ELSE isn't. he treats other dragons like npcs in a video game (quite literally a huge basis of his early life behaviour.) he is basically just all of my negative traits shoved into a character and amped up to 100.

if you asked people his negative traits?

amara would say he has some bad influences, and can be a bit intense... but he means well.

mira would say he's a little mean, and gets really angry alot. but he's his best friend, so its okay!

topaz would approach the question from a methodical angle; he's sloppy when fighting, choosing to charge in and rip things to pieces rather than taking the time to think. he's impatient, but his lack of clarity in his demands just fuels his impatience. he gets very jealous, is enraged easily, and loves to place the blame on everyone but himself. ...but, otherwise, he's a good listener when you need someone to talk to.

izdaja and koke would probably say something wildly different because they met him at incredibly different points of his life.

barbarian. chaotic evil. my class and alignment because again he is Me

bugs. he can pry open a dragon's ribcage with his bare claws and eat their organs with a smile on his face, he can burn down an entire forest and kill dozens of rocokiri without remorse, he can steal, lie, murder, and hurt anything and anyone that comes in his path. but if he sees a fucking spider, he is DONE FOR. he's had nightmares about getting eaten alive by termites more times than he has claws to count on.

despite my love for music i unfortunately know jack shit about scales. he does canonically play piano, though. in a theme song made for him though i think he would have a cacophany of instruments in which an organ, drums and electric guitar are the most prominent.

he doesn't date.

he doesn't have a 'schedule,' as he hates restrictions. he stays up until he can't anymore. late, to him, is roughly 4 pm.

he only cries if it's;

a. crocodile tears

b. bodily/pain response. like if someone was cutting onions

he doesn't cry when he's sad. again; any and every negative wmotion he has is immediately transferred into rage.

he doesn't get embarassed really? but i think something he wouldn't like to bring up would probably be his poetry. he's known for being a skilled blacksmith & mechanic and an incredible fighter, not at all for his flowery words.

OK THATS ENOUGH MELPOSTING TONIGHT im done. bless

[1roentgen]

listening to a creepypasta

weather so damn hot. sunlight is beautiful though. slicing through the air like blades.

no class today cuz public holiday. did laundry, took out trash. thinking about steak and/ or one or more bagels with real butter. just had lunch but maybe i didn’t eat enough. i had half of a fish but couldn’t really finish my rice; saved the rest for dinner. had an orange and a dragonfruit also but i think i just want steak.

i took a nap earlier and dreamt i went out to buy several items from a bakery but discovered a series of tunnels deep below the earth. there was something large and ancient that had awoken, triggered by my movements in the subterranean maze. so in the dream i was navigating these backrooms-esque hallways trying to find my way back to the surface so i could deal with the creature. i had some sort of plan in the back of my mind, but i woke up before i could see what it was. the sky in the dream was lighter than the clouds; it was that time in the evening right before sunset, and the air was fragrant and cool. woke up extremely hungry and thirsty and mildly unnerved. didn’t even get my damn bagel.

midterm grades are being released. slowly. did good on the electrical; only got one problem wrong.

forgot my laptop charger at one of the labs yesterday so i can’t code or practice bass rn (no amp, got audio interface). feeing a little bored but not too restless. maybe i will practice piano or keep trying to draw something. i need to vacuum the house.

still thinkin bout steak. i think i’m craving protein and/ or fats. kbbq…

i really wish alcohol was good for you.

saw a bus the other day with this psa on it; reduce salt and sugar when seasoning food to reduce adverse health outcomes.

u ever wonder why everything that feels good is actually bad for u? why’s that? why is it more correct to live a long and bland life. do everything the right way. be healthy. be normal. don’t destroy yourself. what’s the correct thing to want? if it’s all subjective then it’s all meaningless. dunno. hubris of the young and healthy maybe. i can’t imagine getting old. is this all there is to life? i have a build a life for myself and do absolutely everything i can not to die until i get old and sick, for this?? am i ungrateful to feel this way?

maybe i will go for a walk this evening.

[simonesecci]

A tribute to Steve Albini

"Like the music he adored and devoted his life to – punk and experimental action, suspect and resistant to any semblance of exploitation – Steve Albini was a person of passion and contradiction. He seemed to have a bemused realization of his own staunch judgement towards factionalism, us versus them, the capitalist colonization agenda of the recording industry coexisting with the socialist minded independent music world. He could articulate, from a surprisingly young age, with intelligent and intellectual passion, reasons not to set foot in the manipulative cogs of “major” label indignity. While wholly serious in his analysis he also seemed to be able to write it all off at the end of the day as being alive in an absurd universe. Alongside his set-in-stone scowl was always a genuinely soulful smile. I remember meeting Steve when Big Black first came to NYC in the early 80s. Byron Coley and Jimmy Johnson from Forced Exposure had driven down for the gig and we all gathered in whatever the Danceteria dressing room hovel was. Byron and Jimmy had recently. sat down with Sonic Youth to interview us for their zine around that time and I had just gotten to know those two, connecting to their wide open, record collecting mania, their exuberance of attitude in critiquing the nascent explosions of post-punk and post-no wave and post -hard core, introducing avant-garde jazz and other musics to so many green and hungry minds, mine included. I recognized immediately their fascination with this voice from Chicago – Steve Albini – who immediately proved himself to be as vociferous and cutting and acerbic and hilarious as they were. Big Black made sonic manifest the tenor of this crossfire. That zine-conscious gathering sparked off a life-long camaraderie between us goons, along with so many other self-made wildly-opinionated minds – Gerard Cosloy, Lydia Lunch et al – regardless of whatever personal ups-and-downs would occur throughout the subsequent decades. Steve began writing for FE with Big Black and SY sharing stages and kipping on apartment floors together while crisscrossing the planet.

(hats off to Carlos van Hifjte in Eindhoven.) He would become utterly disenchanted at SY for signing on with Geffen in 1990 considering it an abandonment of principle. Of course, we’d argue this; the transparent accounting and health care offered by a corporate label versus the artistic freedom of an independent label where day-to-day operations could, many times, be a mystery. His analogies of a recording engineer not being any more important than a plumber came across as certainly endearing. But Steve was not a plumber. Button pushing moves by naming his band the worse name imaginable or album and song titles intended to trash whatever nihilist energy they claimed to own were obviously the audacious actions of a provocateur. Publicly chastising his contemporaries alongside the dinosaurs of high-profile culture was an invitation to discourse (if not outright humiliation). He was always ready to throw down. His music, his guitar style, his amp settings, they were all primal attacks, and they were all with a huge heart of love behind the machine, well-oiled and assured. Steve seriously listened, studied, watched. No matter what level of intimacy one would have with him through the years (we hardly connected much after the mid 90s or so – only crossing paths on various festival shows, saying hey, knowing each other well enough like cousins through the years) there’d always be some propensity for an enlightened exchange whether it be in regards to the values of variable genres of music and nature, or the distinct vagaries between the myriad options of Chicago taquerias, Steve had answers and he had pronouncements. He was always right, even when he was wrong.

He was an artist, a musician, a recording engineer, a high functioning decoder allowing for a plethora of poker winnings and pool table mastery. He loved the clean, solid, stylish simplicity of a classic Zippo lighter. Steve, like the many other inspired people he admired, was drawn to, and would find himself working with – be it Whitehouse or Nirvana – was an authentic visionary, a person alive with the delight of creative impulse. And no matter how many times he'd sign off his written and oral missives with a middle finger raised high in the air he seemed to absolutely love the world and its people. While his recent self-analysis on social media would express regret for youthful insolence it never proffered apology; his writing, as such, was always humanist, knowing that our lives are in a constant state of flux and learning. If any ideology could be seen as essential to Steve I always saw it to be communitarianism. Fighting the good fight. At least that’s the sense I got from knowing him back in the old days."

Thurston Moore on Steve Albini

[nekonekochan]

‭‭Psalms 50:7-15 AMP‬‬

[7] “Hear, O My people, and I will speak; O Israel, I will testify against you: I am God, your God. [8] I do not reprove you for your sacrifices; Your burnt offerings are continually before Me. [9] I will accept no young bull from your house Nor male goat from your folds. [10] For every beast of the forest is Mine, And the cattle on a thousand hills. [11] I know every bird of the mountains, And everything that moves in the field is Mine. [12] If I were hungry, I would not tell you, For the world and all it contains are Mine. [13] Shall I eat the flesh of bulls Or drink the blood of male goats? [14] Offer to God the sacrifice of thanksgiving And pay your vows to the Most High; [15] Call on Me in the day of trouble; I will rescue you, and you shall honor and glorify Me.”

https://bible.com/bible/1588/psa.50.7.AMP

[grad604-haydenmiddleton]

FINDING CREDIBLE SOURCES / CITING HOMEWORK

5x Specific Techniques and Crafts:

- Juan Gris (1887-1927). (1914). Tea Cups. [painting]. Retrieved from https://library-artstor-org.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/asset/LESSING_ART_10310750658

- ( https://library-artstor-org.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/#/asset/LESSING_ART_10310750658 )

- Langford, C. (2021). A brief history of photography and truth. PHOTO 2024. https://photo.org.au/channel/a-brief-history-of-photography-and-truth

- ( https://href.li/?https://photo.org.au/channel/a-brief-history-of-photography-and-truth )

- Nash, R., Yamada-Rice, D., Dare, E., Love, S., Main, A., Potter, J., & Rodrigues, D. (2021, July 1). Using a collaborative zine to co-produce knowledge about location-based virtual reality experiences. Qualitative Research Journal. https://www.emerald.com/insight/content/doi/10.1108/QRJ-02-2021-0021/full/html

- ( https://www-emerald-com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/insight/content/doi/10.1108/QRJ-02-2021-0021/full/html )

- Poletti, A. (1970, January 1). Intimate ephemera : Reading young lives in australian zine culture: Austlit: Discover australian stories. AustLit. https://www.austlit.edu.au/austlit/page/C784568

- ( https://search-informit-org.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/doi/book/10.3316/informit.9780522855654 )

- Guerra , P., & Quintela, P. (2020). Punk, fanzines and DIY Cultures in a global world. SpringerLink. https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-3-030-28876-1

- ( https://link-springer-com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/book/10.1007/978-3-030-28876-1 )

5x Key Themes, Ideas and Conservations:

- Greteman , A. J. (2017). Helping kids turn out queer: Queer theory in art education. Jstor. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/00393541.2017.1331089

- ( https://www-jstor-org.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/stable/45426608?seq=8 )

- Addison, N. (2005). Expressing the not-said: Art and design and the formation of sexual Identities. Core UK. https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Nicholas-Addison/publication/227531793_Expressing_the_Not-Said_Art_and_Design_and_the_Formation_of_Sexual_Identities/links/5dfddd9b299bf10bc36bdeb2/Expressing-the-Not-Said-Art-and-Design-and-the-Formation-of-Sexual-Identities.pdf

- ( https://web-s-ebscohost-com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/ehost/detail/detail?vid=0&sid=e35f3f22-c2ed-4fe4-ae86-1baab4634829%40redis&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3QtbGl2ZSZzY29wZT1zaXRl#AN=16073553&db=vth )

- McEwen, H. Milani , T. M. (2014). Introduction: Queer and trans art-iculations: Decolonising Gender and Sexualities in the Global South. Jstor. https://www.jstor.org/stable/pdf/43825241.pdf

- ( https://www-jstor-org.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/stable/43825241?seq=6 )

- Lupton, E., Kafei, F., & Tobias, J. (2021). Extra bold. Princeton Architectural Press.

- ( https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/aut/reader.action?docID=6690023 )

- Gray, M., & Horton, I. (2022). Seeing comics through art history. SpringerLink. https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-3-030-93507-8

- ( https://link-springer-com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/book/10.1007/978-3-030-93507-8 )

5x Specialist Subject Knowledge:

- Ruberg, B. (2022, January 1). Hungry holes and insatiable balls: Video games, Queer Mechanics, and the limits of Design. JCMS: Journal of Cinema and Media Studies. https://www.scilit.net/article/160aa08322d2117a26bcceb89913b89b .

- ( https://eds-p-ebscohost-com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/eds/detail/detail?vid=0&sid=8057f378-e8cd-4351-9d11-fb8e36e321ec%40redis&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWRzLWxpdmU%3d#AN=156616774&db=aft )

- Napier , S. (2002, November). When the machines stop: Fantasy, reality, and terminal identity in ... Jstor. https://www.jstor.org/stable/4241108

- ( https://www-jstor-org.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/stable/4241108?seq=4 )

- L. Fang, (2021). Discussion and Analysis on the Application Value of Fine Arts in Computer Graphic Design. 2021 International Conference on Computer Technology and Media Convergence Design (CTMCD). https://ieeexplore-ieee-org.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/document/9463383?arnumber=9463383

- Kortenkamp, K. V., Marschall, S., Mateer, T. J., Petty, R. E., Schoenleber, C., Abrams, K. M., Bilandzic, H., Bradford, L., Brown, P. J., Burks, R. L., Burn, S. M., Choquette, J., Cialdini, R. B., Davis, M., Davis, S. K., Fleming, N., Gleason, V., Graham, L., Hall, T. E., … Leung, Y.-F. (2023, January 12). The impact of graphic design on attention capture and behavior among outdoor recreationists: Results from an exploratory persuasive signage experiment. Journal of Outdoor Recreation and Tourism. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2213078023000014

- ( https://www-sciencedirect-com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/science/article/pii/S2213078023000014?via%3Dihub )

- Kaplan, G. (2022, October 20). After the Bauhaus, before the internet. MIT Press. https://mitpress.mit.edu/9781949484090/after-the-bauhaus-before-the-internet/

- ( https://academic-oup-com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/jdh/article/36/1/101/6760291?login=true&token=eyJhbGciOiJub25lIn0.eyJleHAiOjE2OTM5NDc0NTgsImp0aSI6ImYwMGZjYWRmLTVlMDQtNGU3YS1hNTYzLTk5YmY0MGM4MmM3NCJ9. )

5x Creatives Working in the Environmental, Social, Cultural, Sub-cultural, and political contexts:

GEORGE HAJIAN

- Hajian, G. (2022, June 1). Revealing embedded power: Collage and disruption of meaning . Revista GEMInIS. https://doaj.org/article/d68c43347e964b968cb8e92d396d1596

- ( https://www.revistageminis.ufscar.br/index.php/geminis/article/view/738 )

PATI SOLOMONA

- BYRT, A. (2018). Strange encounters: The Walters Prize finalists take us on a trip to see who we might find, and what we might touch, on the dark side. Metro (NZ), 420, 84–85.

- ( https://web-p-ebscohost-com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/ehost/detail/detail?vid=0&sid=19977146-6d0a-4bf3-a750-db6c9e4265c6%40redis&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3QtbGl2ZSZzY29wZT1zaXRl#AN=132799947&db=anh )

FIONA GREVES

- Grieve, F., & Clarke, K. (2022, June 1). Threaded magazine: Adopting a culturally connected approach. Revista GEMInIS. https://doaj.org/article/60bacdfd13c6486eaad575c51717ceff

- ( https://doaj-org.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/article/60bacdfd13c6486eaad575c51717ceff )

TYRONE OHIA

- Justin, W. (2022). Matariki logo and slogan revealed. Dominion Post, The, 4.

- ( https://eds-s-ebscohost-com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/eds/detail/detail?vid=0&sid=419b35c5-1b6f-4b39-98f9-ca547b2f0ba1%40redis&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWRzLWxpdmU%3d#AN=DOM22050400041157786307-AL&db=anh )

TATIANA TAVARES

- Williams, L. (2021, May 25). Vivian, the graphic novel: Using arts based knowledge translation to ... Taylor & Frances. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/13576275.2021.1929898

- ( https://www-tandfonline-com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/doi/full/10.1080/13576275.2021.1929898 )

[lovethiyonawan]

Let there be supernatural supplies now in Jesus Name!!! I release Financial Blessings now!!! Let Financial doors be open now! Say this;Money comes to me now! My hands are wealth gathering hands! Think on this👇 for a bit; The young lions lack [food] and grow hungry, But they who seek the Lord will not lack any good thing~Psalms 34:10 AMP Young lions go hungry and may starve, but those who seek the Lord’s help have all the good things they need. Psalms 34:10 GW #propheticdeclaration #lettherebe #breakloose #financialoil #grace #blessedofGod #emergence #lovethiyonawan https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn8f2KSoiF2/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[reallifepotato]

that’s it that’s the show

[rita-moreno]

[tvafterdark]

[monkey-network]

WarioWare: The [NEW!] Series Episodes

26 episodes. The Original Series Episodes: Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Season 4, Season 5

Movie Magic: After their recent video game adventure, Wario decides to get into film-making (it's just like games, right?) but has to deal with not only a rowdy fame hungry cast, but a company that tries to keep Wario's movie from making it into theaters.

A Re-Volting Tale: 9-Volt finds out that 5-Volt is going on a date with... Wario?! Yeah, that's gross and weird, so 5 tails the date only to see Wario be a surprising charmer. So what else is he to do but commence sabotage.

Mona Streama: Mona decides to having gaming streams for potential money and chaos ensues when the others find out and join in.

Carton of Juice: Lulu bumps into Ashley at the grocery market and Ashley begrudgingly accepts the former's invite to hang out, surprised that they have much (if indirect) in common.

Funk Fu: Young Cricket sees the karate aura in Jimmy T's groovin' moves and asks him to teach him his ways.

Penny for the Dollar: Penny becomes an entrepreneur handyman that soon finds competition.

Life of Orbulon: Orbulon, stuck in the midst of space thanks to no fuel, reflects on the meaning of his life from the lens of his friends.

Burger on the Brain: Dribble dreamed of eating the most delicious hamburger from a place he's familiar with yet wakes up to the challenge of finding the place exactly.

Crygor Me a River: With the help of Doris-1 and Mike, Crygor tries to fix the plumbing in his lab.

Amped Up Return: 9-Volt looks to Fronk, 18, and 13-Amp to impress his classmates with lyrical skills.

The Most Commercial Commercial Ever: For this Twilight Zone parody, a strange man constantly bombards everyone with advertisements as he is also trying to tell a story.

Kat and Ana's Animal Song: The Ninja Twins "try" to sing about the many animals that inhabit the world.

The Untold Story of a Distinguished Treasure Hunter: For tonight's stage play, we're given an alternate history of a good-intentioned, hard-working, glorious person and the underlings that undermine and blame him for all their woes. Wait, who wrote this?

Unstoppable: Wario's in the mood for lunch at the farside joint and nothing, not even the worst disasters coming to Diamond City, is gonna stop him.

Honey, I Flupped the Scripts: After a few sleep deprived days, our writers stomp their block with a Madlibs scenario.

Comic Cabonanza: Lulu creates a giant comic about the biggest adventure of her life.

Fowl House: Ashley comes across a chicken caretaker in search of the greatest witch.

Coffee T: Jimmy T and Jimmy P bet that they can drink 100 cups of coffee in under a week.

Video Game Podcast: 9-Volt, 18-Volt, Penny, and Red band together to discuss games.

Blizzard Deliciousness: Mona and Wario are trapped outside during a snowstorm and unite to get home.

Book Taste: Young Cricket reads a book that he finds to be so perfect, any other book he reads pales in comparison and finds this a curse.

Drivers of Hamalot: Dribble and Spitz pick up armored people and are forced into battle against supernatural knights.

Art is Hard: Orbulon wants to create something but time is not on his side. So everyone steps in to help in their own way.

Sleep Shopping: 5-Volt is tired but needs to go to the grocery store. At the most hostile day to go, it's up to Mike to support her.

It Takes a Village: A documentary maker has excitedly recorded the past grand adventures of the Warioware crew in the hopes to get an interview with them.

The Best Project Ever (Hour Long Finale): Wario promises to have the best selling game of all time out in one month, and everyone gives it their all to not only make a great game but sell it worldwide.

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Second Chance

For Maribat March day 12 theme second chance

Master List

Sometimes Marinette really wished Penny and Jagged hadn’t adopted her. It’s not that she didn’t want to be a Rolling-Stone, no that wasn’t it. In fact, she was grateful that they had saved her from the horrors that Paris now held for her. It’s just they dragged her to stuff like this, some rich man’s gala. 

She had slept for a full 12 hours after finishing Penny’s dress, only to wake up to the news she was coming with them. She probably should’ve seen it coming. Although she was hoping this would be one of the lucky cases where she didn’t have to go. Despite her protests they insisted she needed to interact with other humans who weren’t serving her coffee. In Jagged’s words, “Who knows, you might make a rock n roll friend!” 

Now here she was, in her black and purple dress that matched Penny’s and Jagged’s outfits. Letting a bit of her anxiety out as she fiddled with the strap of her matching purse. Watching her parents mingle with the rich folk while she stood off to the side. Every once in a while they would cast her a ‘go make a friend’ look but it never bothered her, she just needed to wait until they stopped turning to look back at her.  

After about 10 minutes they stopped, perfect. She casually asked a waiter where the bathroom was and made her way there. Once inside she slipped off the pearl anklet that was Daizzi’s miraculous, letting the kwami make her way into her purse, before pulling out a familiar nose ring. Now that Jagged and Penny were letting her do her own thing, she could go back to scaring people into not socializing with her. While she would’ve loved to keep Daizzi’s miraculous on so that it could combat Stompp’s miraculous side effects, she learned that it took too much energy to do so. And she didn’t want to explain why she was so tired after the gala if she wasn’t talking to anyone. 

She schooled her features before making her way back out sending a cold look to anyone who tried to come up to her. She pulled out her phone only to see that 2 hours had passed, she still had 4 more to go. Time was moving much too slowly for her liking. 

A clearing of the throat brought her out of her thoughts. She rolled her eyes, putting her phone back in her purse, getting ready to glare at the person who was going to try to talk to her, only to stare in shock at the green eyes that were watching her. The same ones that had bumped into her just days before. The same ones she had sworn she probably wouldn’t ever see again. 

Her mouth moved without her permission, again she blames Stompp, “You.” 

He smiled or maybe it was a smirk, responding with way too much amusement, “Me.” 

She once again schooled her features to look bored, but she’s pretty sure her eyes gave her away with the way he reacted, “What are you doing here?” 

Just like before it took him a moment to reply, his smirk growing just the tiniest bit, “I’m always invited to these things, I’ve never seen you before though.” 

“With any luck this will be the last time you see me.” She remarked. She didn’t mean to be so rude again she blames Stompp but she really hadn’t expected to see him. To his credit he didn’t seem deterred by her cold vibe, if anything he seemed more determined. 

“Why would you say that?” 

“These types of things,” She waved her hand around, motioning to the room, “Just aren’t my thing. My parents make it look so easy, but I’ve never been one for this kind of scene. Plus I leave Gotham in a few days.” 

“Desperate to get out here?” 

“You could say that.” 

“Who are your parents?” 

She raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” If this was the game he wanted to play she would play it. Trying to find out who she was by asking about her parents, real subtle. Well Mr. Hot shot, she’s letting Stompp take the wheel now.

“You know, you make trying to have a conversation pretty hard.” 

She rolled her eyes at him, not even trying to stop them from rolling, “Who says I wanted this conversation?” It was a rhetorical question. She turned to leave only for him to grab her wrist. 

Suddenly she was brought back to that night. The night that changed everything. Three pieces of jewelry in her hand, two brooches one ring, her earrings 2 beeps away from her transformation leaving her. 

A pale hand holding her wrist, keeping her from running away. Green eyes and blond hair belonged to the owner of the hand. 

It had happened too fast. One second she was getting ready to run and detransform. Then someone had stopped her, she turned around to meet hungry green eyes. She froze as she felt lips pressed onto her own. It was only the beeping of her earring that brought her back to reality. A knee to the groin, and she pushed him off of her. Letting the police deal with the trio as she fled. 

She turned to the owner of the tan hand that was holding her back and could only register green eyes. She wouldn’t stand still this time. She twisted her hand so that he was forced to let go. A knee to the stomach had him holding his gut and as she raised her arm ready to punch him was when she finally registered that this wasn’t Adrien. It was just some weird stranger who was persistent in getting past her walls. 

She could hear people talking around her and when she dared to glance around they were all staring. She forced the embarrassed blush that wanted to grace her cheeks down, she wasn’t 13 anymore, she was 16 god damnit! Locking eyes with the mysterious yet persistent guy again, she ran. Ran until she found herself on a balcony, the cold air brushing her face as she gripped the railing. 

Why did she react like that? Why did she always have to be so aggressive? Why couldn’t she just let go of the past and take this damn nose ring off so she didn’t have to go and do stupid shit like this?  Why couldn’t she just be normal and let people in? 

Oh yeah, because she had a bunch of shitty friends that all turned on her because of a liar. The same liar turned her already neglectful parents against her. So Jagged and Penny got custody of her in order to get her out. Her parents didn’t even put up a fight about it, too busy gushing about precious LILA! And now she has major trust issues despite wanting to open and trust people again. Man, she is a wreck. 

“Hey, are you out here?” The mystery guy spoke from the entrance of the balcony. 

“No, I’m not.” She didn’t see the point in not acknowledging him, he could probably see her from where he was standing. 

“I’m sorry about earlier, you were obviously uncomfortable and I pushed your limit. So I really am sorry.” He apologized. 

“Yeah, sorry about kneeing you in the stomach. I thought…” She cut herself off, she didn’t need to pour her whole life story out to a stranger. He probably didn’t even want to know either. 

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” He made his way to the railing, he was a good distance away that she still had her own space, but close enough they could still talk. She relaxed a little thanks to the distance, resting her elbows on the railing. He leaned his back against the railing. They stood there in silence and Marinette decided she wouldn’t mind seeing this mystery boy again. Wait she didn’t even know his name. 

It seemed like he had the same thought since he spoke up, “I don’t think we ever introduced ourselves.” 

“We didn’t.” Damn her being so cold, she should probably take this nose ring off. So that’s what she did, took the nose ring off and placed it in her purse. Maybe this would be good for her. 

“Well, I’m Damian Wayne.” He stated, holding his hand out to shake. 

“Wait, Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? As in the Ice Prince of Gotham?” She questioned, shocked. 

“Oh, so you’ve heard.” He seemed a bit disappointed. 

“Yeah, but I won’t judge if you don’t judge.”

He raised an eyebrow at that before she continued, “My name is Marinette Rolling-Stone.” Now he looked surprised. 

“You're the elusive Diamond Stone?” He asked, disbelief made its way into his voice. 

“That’s what they’re calling me now. At first it was Sapphire Stone. Guess that’s what happens when I stay out of the media too long.” She chuckled a small smile making its way onto her face. 

“Wait, where did your nose ring go?” He looked around as if expecting it to magically appear. 

“I took it off.” 

“Why?” 

“Well at first I wore it to scare people off. People are scared of people that have piercings. I was thinking of getting a tattoo but I’m too young and they’re too permanent.” 

“Why would you want to scare people off?” 

“I have a complicated past. Sometimes putting your trust in someone takes too much risk, I tried to avoid it altogether.” She pulled her sketchbook as she wrote something down.

“Tried?” 

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?” She tore the paper out.

“You're putting your trust in me?” 

“No.” She quickly answered, “But maybe one day.” She handed him the paper and left. 

As she walked away she released a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. Maybe giving people a second chance wouldn’t be such a bad thing. But right now she just needed to find her parents so she could head home. 

-

Damian hated galas. He hated having to talk to the stuck-up rich folk who thought they were better than everyone just because of their wealth. The girls who would try and flirt with him in order to gain his last name. And their parents who tried to push them together. 

Yes, he definitely hated galas. What made this worse was that his family wouldn’t stop teasing him about the girl who he knocked over that one time. Threatening bodily harm did nothing but amp up the teasing. It was times like this where he truly wished there was a not a no kill rule. If only to give Jason Todd some revenge. 

2 hours into the gala and he was already done. 4 girls had already tried to drape themselves over him and it took all his self-control not to hurt them. He was ready to storm out of this gala when he caught sight of her. 

The mystery girl he had bumped into days before. She was here, at a Wayne gala. Her outfit certainly looked the part of a rich socialite, She wore a long halter dress that flared out at the waist. It started out black at her neck before turning purple at the waist. The bottom of the dress had black music notes dancing across and she had a matching black and purple purse hanging off her shoulder. 

Her hair was down and she seemed to be wearing a little bit of makeup. The only reason he was able to tell it was her was because of the black nose ring that stood out against her fancy look. It looked so out of place compared to everything else. 

He watched as a man tried to approach her only to receive the same glare he had gotten days before, quickly moving on to someone else. Seems like he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be here. 

He made his way over to her, perhaps to give himself a second chance at a new impression. She proceeded to pull out her phone and look at something before deflating the tiniest bit. 

He cleared his throat to grab her attention, she looked at him with the same glare once again before her eyes took on a look of shock. 

“You.” She seemed surprised that she had stated this as well. 

He couldn’t help the smirk that spread on his face, she remembered him and still had the same spunky attitude, “Me.” 

Her features took on a look of boredom, but her eyes looked only curious yet cautious, “What are you doing here?” 

The fact that she didn’t recognize him as a Wayne was surprising. He thought that she was only in a hurry before that’s why she didn’t register it was him, but now he knew she truly didn’t know it was him. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. “I’m always invited to these things, I’ve never seen you before though.” 

“With any luck this will be the last time you see me.” She said it with such confidence he felt inclined to believe. It was strange. He seemed to be the last person she wanted to talk to and yet he still wanted to talk to her. He didn’t want her to leave. So the next best thing is to get answers.

“Why would you say that?” 

“These types of things,” She waved her hand around to motion to the room, “Just aren’t my thing. My parents make it look so easy, but I’ve never been one for this kind of scene. Plus I leave Gotham in a few days.” 

Well that sucked for him. “Desperate to get out here?” 

“You could say that.” 

“Who are your parents?” Maybe he could try to get his father to arrange a meeting with them.

She raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Nevermind. 

“You know, you make trying to have a conversation pretty hard.” He didn’t mean to say that, that was rude. 

She rolled her eyes at him, it looked like he was meant to see that, “Who says I wanted this conversation?” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist. He didn’t want her to go just yet. He felt her freeze then tense when he touched her, her breathing became a little more forced, and she seemed to shake a little. 

Suddenly she twisted out of his grip and kneed him in the stomach. She raised her arm and looked ready to punch him. Her eyes looked far and distant and afraid. They seemed to refocus on him as she dropped her arm and glanced around the room. Of course, people were talking about them.

She locked eyes with him once more before running. He ran after her before his path was blocked off by Dick Grayson. “Damian what-” He didn’t get to finish that question as he dashed passed him, determined not to lose the one girl who wasn’t a stuck up brat. 

He thought he had lost her but then he heard someone taking deep breaths from out on one of the balconies. He was about to go up to her, but from the way she reacted to his sudden hold on her arm earlier, it was probably best to give a warning. “Hey are you out here?” 

He walked out onto the balcony. “No, I’m not.” She likely didn’t want to talk to him. 

“I’m sorry about earlier, you were obviously uncomfortable and I pushed your limit. So I really am sorry.” He apologized. Which was so unlike him because here Damian Wayne was apologizing to a stranger. The weird things she made him do. 

“Yeah, sorry about kneeing you in the stomach. I thought…” She cut herself off, it looked like she wanted to say more but wasn’t going to. 

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” He walked over to the railing, making sure he was a good distance away that she had her own space, but close enough so they could still talk. She seemed to relax a little thanks to the distance, resting her elbows on the railing. He leaned his back against the railing. He quite liked the silence, her company was nice. Oh god he didn’t even know her name.

“I don’t think we ever introduced ourselves.” 

“We didn’t.” She stated in what he was pretty sure was a cold tone. Maybe she wanted to stay mysterious, so he would just introduce himself. 

“Well, I’m Damian Wayne.” He held his hand out to shake. 

“Wait, Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? As in the Ice Prince of Gotham?” So she recognizes the name, not the face. Great.

“Oh, so you’ve heard.” 

“Yeah, but I won’t judge if you don’t judge.” Why would he judge her?

He raised an eyebrow at her before she continued, “My name is Marinette Rolling-Stone.” 

“You're the elusive Diamond Stone?” He asked, disbelief accidentally made its way into his voice. He couldn’t help it. She was claiming to be the adoptive daughter of famous Jagged and Penny Rolling-Stone. The girl that made Jagged’s stage outfits from scratch and managed to get the ferocious Fang, Jagged’s pet crocodile, to love her. The media could only ever get a hold of the back of her head, but those that had talked with her said she shined as bright as a diamond. Hence the nickname, Diamond Stone.

“That’s what they’re calling me now. At first it was Sapphire Stone. Guess that’s what happens when I stay out of the media too long.” She chuckled, a small smile had made its way onto her face. Sapphire Stone, he hadn’t heard of that nickname but he could always do some stalking research. That’s when he noticed. 

“Wait, where did your nose ring go?” He looked around trying to see if it had fallen off her face and she hadn’t noticed.

“I took it off.” 

“Why?” He was truly baffled. 

“Well at first I wore it to scare people off. People are scared of people that have piercings. I was thinking of getting a tattoo but I’m too young and they’re too permanent.” 

“Why would you want to scare people off?” That seems like something he would do.

“I have a complicated past. Sometimes putting your trust in someone takes too much risk, I tried to avoid it altogether.” She pulled out what looked like a sketchbook as she wrote something down. Wait what did she mean by ‘complicated past.’

“Tried?” 

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?” She tore the paper out of the sketchbook.

“You're putting your trust in me?” He asked, she didn’t seem like the type to trust people quickly.

“No.” She quickly answered, he thought so, “But maybe one day.” She handed him the paper and left. As he looked down at it he saw it was her number. There was a message attached below ‘My number. Maybe we can meet up somewhere before I leave.’ He certainly wanted to take that opportunity. 

He tucked the paper into his pocket and made his way back to the gala only to be met with his annoying family. By the curious look in their eyes they wanted to know what just happened. This was not going to be fun to explain. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hi, I have not disappeared, just didn’t want to write for prompts 8-11. I was honestly going to do prompt 8 but then stuff came up and I didn’t have the time to write. I was also planning to write something for tomorrow’s prompt but then I found out I have something I need to do tomorrow so nothing for tomorrow either. Because I had a specific thing I wanted to write for tomorrow I’m changing it to fit day 14′s prompt. Which means it’s not going to be mega angsty like I originally thought was gonna be 14. You have escaped mega angst and now it will only be medium angst. 

On another note that was a bitch to write and edit. And the fact I had originally planned to write more for it baffles me. I feel like I left it kind of open ended so if you want a part 3 to what I have going on here go ahead and tell me. I’m still trying to decide if I should do a part 3 yet. For those who are confused today was a part 2 to day 6′s prompt, miraculous side effects. Go to my master list and you can find it. 

You can also see on my master list that there are days that are crossed off, which means I won’t be doing those days. I can’t do every single day if I want to still get decent grades. Why I skipped days 8-11. Sorry for that long explanation/rant. Also sorry for posting so late again. I do these things all the way to the last minute. Let’s see if I can break that habit throughout the month. Probably not but a girl can hope. Anyways hope you enjoyed. 

@maribatmarch-2k21 @birdiesthings @buginetye 

[blooming-violets]

Let me just take a little, tiny minute to talk about myself and my fic Smitten and how they are very related to each other. 

There’s tws here: I talk a lot about my mental health under the read more. That included depression, anxiety, agoraphobia, general feelings of self hatred, food issues, mentions of suicide...just yuck stuff...but I feel it’s important and I wanted to share. If you’d like to read the rambles of a crazy woman, feel free to continue! :)

I didn’t realize when I first started writing it how cathartic it would be for me, how healing it would be, and how much it would help me deal with my own trauma. 

The idea of a Peter Parker serial killer was birthed into the world thanks to Liz and I discussing the idea of Peter having a torture table where he would tie up his enemies and torture them for information. We then got to talking about Peter wearing nothing but an apron while he tortures his victims and him getting super turned on by the entire thing. It was around the time that sexy Dr. V announced her TASM AU event which then quickly turned that idea into a Peter Parker serial killer au. 

The first two chapters were fairly standard for me. I had a plan of where I wanted it to go and what I wanted to happen. It was supposed to be three chapters total but it wasn’t until I started writing chapter three that I realized how much more I wanted to tell. I didn’t just want to tell Mia and Peter’s story, I think, subconsciously, I wanted to tell a weird au version of my own. The “healing” for me started with chapter three and ended with the finale of chapter five. What triggered the need to write more wasn’t just that I couldn’t physically fit it all into one chapter but because I needed to explore more of Mia being trapped in the basement room and how that affects her and her relationship to Peter. 

One of my favorite books and favorite movie is Room. A story where a young woman and her son are trapped inside of a small shed for years being held captive. I am now piecing together all the funny little bits of my life and realizing why I loved that book so much and why I wrote this story how I did. 

This is when I start talking about my very personal issues: 

When I was 19, I was at college, and started suffering from severe depression. That’s usually around the time when mental health issues really come alive. I’d always had bad anxiety and panic attacks since I was a little girl but college is where they really amped up to 100. Along with that depression came severe anxiety and, together, that lovely combination created agoraphobia. I spent three full weeks inside of my dorm room before I was able to get help. I could only leave to use the bathroom that was directly next to my room. So I could slip out into the hallway for .2 seconds and then slip back into the safety of the bathroom. Any other time I was confined to my tiny dorm. 

I stopped going to all my classes, obviously, because you can’t go to class when you physically can’t force your body out the door. I stopped eating meals because I couldn’t leave to get them. I remember trying to go down to the cafeteria because I was so hungry. I made it out of the building, across the campus, and into the caf. Then I was hit with all the noise from everyone talking in there. It felt like it was weirdly heightened and overbearingly loud. It felt like all the walls were closing in and I couldn’t breathe and my eyes couldn’t focus on any one thing. Everything was happening really fast and I felt like I was stuck in slow motion. I did a lap around the cafeteria to try and calm myself down but ended up just having a massive panic attack and running out. I literally ran back to my dorm, slammed the door closed, sank down onto the floor and just uncontrollably shook for an hour while staring at the wall.

I survived off the snacks that I kept in a big tupperware container under my bed and the mini fridge that I had. When it got to the point that food started to run out, I started rationing them. I vividly remember having a single oreo left and thinking, “I can eat the top part for breakfast, the middle part for lunch, and the bottom part for dinner.” And then when the food was completely out, I just didn’t eat for about three days. When you aren’t eating properly, you’re trapped in a room, and you don’t socialize with anyone, your brain gets all weird. Throw serious mental health issues on top of all that and your brain is fucked. 

I saw two ways out at the time. One was to kill myself and the other was the call my mother. I contemplated those two options for a very long time, I wrote out the pros and cons of each option like a crazy person, and I am thankful to say that I broke down and called my mom. I’m also thankful that I have an awesome mother who I woke up in the middle of the night, could only half understand what I was saying on the phone through my sobs, and still jumped in the car to drive the 45 minutes down to my college at 3am. You can thank her for me being alive. 

The next few weeks are a giant blur. I know I dropped out of college but I don’t remember how I did that, like who I talked to or anything, and I have a very vague, fleeting memory of emptying out my dorm room, but that’s about it. If anyone has suffered from depression, you might know that memory is not our strong suit. In my mind, it feels like I was rationing out an oreo one second and then I blinked and I was at home. No idea what happened in between. No memory of really leaving college. It just sort of happened like magic in my brain. We poofed from one place to the next. 

I then transferred my agoraphobia from leaving my dorm room to leaving my bedroom at home. It wasn’t as bad there. I was able to leave the house to go see a therapist. Mostly because my mom had to physically take me by the hand, pull me out the door, drive me there, pull me inside the building, then sit in the waiting room until I was done. She did that for an entire year. Anyway, it wasn’t as bad at home, but I was still afraid to leave my room and would start to have panic attacks if I was downstairs or away from it for too long. My bedroom walls became a safe sanctuary and a prison that I couldn’t leave. What that meant was that my family had to bring me meals up to my room every day because I couldn’t leave to walk down the stairs to get them myself. Obviously that is better than trying to survive off a single oreo but it’s still not ideal. 

What it does is it makes you feel incredibly helpless, weak, powerless, small, and pathetic. 

Another thing that happens when you're trapped inside of a room for a long period of time, is that you start sleeping a lot. Sleep becomes your best friend. I was asleep more than I was awake during this time. All I did was sleep, wake up to be forced out the door to therapy, come home and sleep some more. Sleep is a welcome distraction when your existence is limited to four walls. 

At the time I was also seeing a boyfriend. He was my first everything. I loved him a lot but he was toxic af. He lied all the time, he was manipulative, he would use love as a form of punishment (like withholding affection and silent treatments if he didn’t like something). There was a lot more going on there involving sexual assault that I’m still not comfortable talking about. My current therapist is the only person I’ve ever really gone into detail with. It’s coming out slowly and little by little. One day, hopefully, I can shed that skin but for now I’m still dragging that baggage around. But the point is, I was not in a healthy place or in a healthy relationship at the time. There’s little, exaggerated things that Peter does in Smitten that are just a carbon copy of the shit he would do (ex: the whole milkshake scene). 

Through therapy I was able to very slowly drag myself out of the giant hole I had dug. 

I am now 30 years old. Ten years later and I am still dragging myself out of that hole except it is much smaller now. I still live at home with my parents because, as I have sadly learned, if I am left on my own, I will slip right back into that state of mind that I had in college. Mental health is bitch to get control of. Some weeks I do really, really well. I go to work, I can go to stores on my own, I can do an escape room and go out to dinner with some friends. Other weeks, I struggle to make it to work on time, spend the majority of the day laying on the ground while kids crawl over me like their personal gym equipment, and then go home straight to bed. It’s actually very sweet and healing sometimes though because some kids will see that and just come over and snuggle on up and lay there with me. Sometimes they’ll grab a book off the shelf and attempt to read me a story as if they know how to read. It makes me feel less like a piece of shit and feel very loved. Choosing to work at the daycare three years ago was the best decision I ever made even if I’m leaving that job soon. I’m not leaving because of the kids, I’m leaving for other reasons. When a two year looks up at you and says “I love you, Katie.” and then throws themselves into your arms…they aren’t lying. Kids that age don’t lie about stuff like that. They just straight up love you and it’s very sweet and wholesome and makes you feel not worthless because you matter to these children. Kids are lovely. Anyone who ever says otherwise can go fuck themselves.

On weeks that I’m not good, I still have to have my mother drive me to and from work because I literally can not operate a car while I’m in that state of mind. It’s embarrassing to admit. Once again, it makes me feel incredibly helpless, powerless, small, and pathetic. Due to the state of my current mental health, I can not live alone and I need to rely on someone else to, oftentimes, act as my “carer” (as I jokingly like to call my dear mother). It is a very tough thing to even admit as a 30 year old. My highschool friends are all married, own houses, and have children. I’m stuck living at home trying not to jump off a bridge every night (that’s an overly dramatic statement and said with a joking tone). 

If you’ve read Smitten, I hope you can see where a lot of inspiration came from for Mia. It’s why I didn’t realize until the third chapter how important this story was to me. In the third chapter is really where I start to explore the idea of being captured and kept confined inside a room. She has to rely on one person to keep her safe. She has to wait for her food to be given to her because she can’t get it herself. She physically can’t leave this room and she starts to slowly lose her sanity. By chapter five, she’s sleeping all the time and fully gives into Peter because that’s literally all she has. Like I said before, when you’re stuck in a room, your brain goes all weird. I straight up started hallucinating at one point but that’s besides the point. But there was one scene that made me want to create this post in the first place…and that is the ending. I wrote that without even realizing what I was writing and how important it was to me. It wasn’t until after I posted it and got into bed that night that it hit me. 

Story time:

Part of what my therapist specializes in is trauma work. She does this thing (called IFS) where we meditate and her voice gets all hypnotic and it’s kind of like hypnosis but not really and I have to let my mind start to wander and then start describing whatever my mind is showing to me. No matter how boring or insignificant I have to say what I start thinking about. For a long time, this method of therapy didn’t work for me. I struggled to allow myself to relax enough to even let my mind wander. So we’d always give up and stick to talking instead. Well, one day we tried it again, and I got freakishly relaxed and my mind showed me my college dorm room. Up until that point, I had not thought about my college dorm room in years. It was one of those memories that I locked up real tight in my brain because it was the lowest and worst moments of my life. (ALSO, side note, I just wanted to add real quick that it wasn’t just therapy that helped me start to heal. I also got on medication to help regulate my moods which made a massive, massive difference. College years were my pre-drug days which is why they were so awful.) Anyway, I had not thought about my dorm room in forever at that point. It rattled me a little bit to even just see it like I could see it so clearly. I could feel the bed under me. I could remember exactly what my window looked out to. I could see everything like I was really there. While I’m doing this, my therapist is talking me through everything like a guiding voice. I’m freaking out because I don’t usually allow myself to get into a state of seeing shit but she chills me back down. 

Basically, my brain showed me inside the dorm. It showed me trying to open the door and it being locked shut. It showed me hitting and scratching and clawing and slamming myself against it while I screamed in frustration and pain. Then it showed the door slowly opening. I step out into the hallway and look to my right. There’s a door at the end of it that leads outside. I start running towards the door, I burst through it, and it’s a beautiful quiet night outside. I stumble to my feet and fall back onto the grass and stare up at the sky. There’s a million stars up there, I can see whole fucking galaxies, and I start laughing. The laughing turns a bit manic and crazy but I’m just rolling around on the grass, in the fresh air, staring up at the night sky sobbing and laughing. My therapist then pulls me back into the real world and I’m shaken up because wtf just happened. It all felt so freakishly real and it was like she straight up hypnotized me or some shit and, honestly, it was kinda cool af. After that, I felt a giant relief. A weight felt lifted off my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how deeply I was still being affected by my time in college. Because I went through therapy back then and “got better” I just assumed that meant that my college days were behind me. With the therapist I have now we usually talk a lot more about what’s currently going on in my life. It made it very clear that I was still carrying around a lot of trauma from my past that I never properly let go of. 

I sort of put that hypnosis thing aside (I don’t think it’s actual hypnosis but idk I’m not a therapist). We haven’t done any more of it since then. That was almost a year ago. So, now, we’re back at the present and I’m over here writing Smitten, minding my own damn business, trying to write a serial killer au, when suddenly I realize that I’m writing about a young woman trapped inside of a room who feels helpless and small and weak. And I start to panic because, wait a minute, this sounds like me. Obviously minus the Peter Parker sex slave/killer kinda things. But the themes are all there. I’m writing about how I feel inside my brain. By doing so, it’s helping me process things, it’s helping me heal, it’s helping me use my issues and pain to make something creative. 

AND THEN I end it. I finish it off, not thinking much about it, I post the damn story, I get into bed, I’m all cozy and warm and satisfied that I finished the story…and suddenly…bam! It hits me. I fucking wrote about the trauma work I did with my therapist. I wrote Mia laughing maniacally and sobbing and rolling around in the grass while staring up a night sky without literally even realizing that was my stupid breakthrough thing that I had with my therapist a year ago. I started crying when I realized it. I s2g I didn’t think twice about it when I was writing it. I was just like “oh yes this is how her story will end. sounds about right.” And it was me the whole freakin time. It was a story about how I feel inside of my brain, how I feel in my life, how I felt in the past, and the relief I felt when I (in my ifs session) broke through that door into the outside and stared up at the sky. 

I wish I knew how to end this but I don’t. 

If you read this much, wow, congratulations for getting to the end, sorry I don’t have any good words of wisdom to add. I just wanted to say thank you for letting me share that story. Even if some people don’t like or get it or it’s too dark for them, that’s okay, because it helped me deal with my trauma in ways I didn’t ever expect. Someone once sent me an anon asking why I felt the need to write Smitten because they didn’t get it. I remember reading it and getting really offended and heated and not sure why I felt so upset over their remarks. I couldn’t understand why that question felt so personal to me at the time and I tried to answer it as nicely as I could and not show that it was actually spiraling me into a panic attack. Well, this is why. Because sometimes people have trauma and are living in dark parts of their brain and find outlets like this to be incredibly healing and positive for their mental health. Even if you don’t get it and it doesn’t relate to you, that does not mean that it’s not helping someone else work through their shit. I loved writing Mia and I loved writing Peter in this story. It felt so freeing. 

I wouldn’t have ever been able to do that if it wasn’t for the Spidey community and accepting me into your little space and letting me share my stories with you. It might just be fanfiction to some but, to me, it’s a safety net to allow me to feel less trapped inside my life. 

Thanks and ily

xoxo Katie

[justcourttee]

Okay that "Love,Right?" oneshot was wonderful but now you've got me obsessed with wondering how all the boys would fight for Mari's attention and all trying to date her omg

On an off note, I hope this came out alright. I really wanted to answer your ask but I’m running on low fumes rn. Loved thinking about this too though! I would love to read a more thought out fic, but I have to imagine it would go something like this

I could totally imagine like them all being relatively close in age. Like let’s say, 

Dick 23

Jason 21

Tim 20

Mari 18

Damian 17

And Mari is almost done with her last year of lycee so she is in uber done mode until the batboys show up in Paris conveniently at the same time that the Wayne boys show up to scout out a potential new business partner. 

She first meets Dick at the gymnasium that Chloe’s father had built for her when she went through a gymnastics phase but soon opened it to the public after she had moved on to whatever interested her next. Marinette is there to practice swinging mid-air to move faster in battle and what better way to do that than over a safety net 40 feet in the air?

Anywho, Dick is just arriving to blow off some steam after a particularly long day of negotiating. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the Hawkmoth mission and the need for a cover, he would’ve abandoned Tim ages ago. He finished locking up his stuff and when he moves into the acrobat section that is always empty, he isn’t sure whether to be impressed or disappointed that someone is there first. She looked nervous as she finished tying her hair into a high ponytail, her eyes calculating as if she was debating if she could make the first jump.

He wants to tell her that there is an easier way to mount, but his curiosity gets the better of him. With one last look, she closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. Without warning, she takes off down the short walkway launching her whole body into the air. Dick is sure she’s going to fall, but at the last minute she reaches out, her hand grasping the bar as she uses her momentum to flip upward, landing gracefully on top of the swinging trapeze. 

Dick couldn’t help his cheers. Her eyes widened as she realized someone else was watching her and in what felt like slow motion, she lost her balance and fell onto the net below. Dick rushes over to make sure she’s okay, apologizing a million times a minute. They introduce each other and it’s like an instant connection. They spend the rest of the afternoon trying new techniques and helping each other improve their own techniques. 

When Dick returns to the hotel that night, he can’t help the fact that her first swing was stuck on replay in his mind. The next day, he rushes over to the gym only to find her there again. This time, he’s determined to get her number, and surprisingly (to him) he succeeds. They spend the night trading funny memes and tiktoks. After a couple of weeks, Dick decides to try and ask her on a date. They were already close friends, I mean she trusted him enough not to drop her from forty feet in the air, that meant she trusted him right?

He shows up with a giant bouquet of roses only to receive a text message that she couldn’t make it that day. While it was a setback, it didn’t mean he was going to give up. He would show up with a bouquet of roses every day until she was there to receive them. And only then would he ask her on a date, because I can totally believe that he wouldn’t want to do it over text. It’s in-person or not at all.

The second Wayne she meets is Jason.

Muggings in Paris weren’t common with Ladybug and Chat Noir around, but it seemed to be Marinette’s lucky day as some guy just decided that a high school girl had enough money in her little purse to steal. As he backed her down an alleyway, a small hand knife pointed at her, Marinette was considering her options.

She could always try to run. After all, the guy was big and bulky, it would be hard for him to keep up with her and she doubted he wanted her bag enough to actually put up a fight. Just as she was eyeing an opening, a small sound echoed through the alleyway, one she was quite familiar with. The guy’s face looked mortified as he turned slowly to face his attacker. 

The man said something in a hushed tone to the guy that Marinette couldn’t quite make out. Whatever it was though, it was enough for her would-be assailant to book it out of the alleyway without a glance back. Assessing her newest threat, Marinette decided that this guy was more punk than thug. She was safe for now. 

He asked her if she was okay and if she needed anything as he adjusted his gun back into his waistband. Marinette was fine, but she was curious as to how he smuggled a gun into France. 

“Ah. My American accent give me away Princess?”

His french was flawless, but it was clear that he wasn’t from the area. He joked that his adopted father was rich enough for the national security to look past it. At least, she was pretty sure he was joking. 

He asks if they can grab something to eat, just because a pretty girl like her shouldn’t go hungry. Marinette is tempted to decline, but her curiosity gets the better of her. They end up going to a small diner near her parent’s bakery where they spend the night flirting shamelessly, both tinging their compliments with enough sarcasm and insults that the people around them couldn’t tell if they were together or if they were related. 

Exchanging numbers, the two continued to meet up for weekly dinners at that same diner as they bond over hating people and insulting/admiring each other. When Jason finally realizes his flirting may have shifted from mocking to an actual crush, he's conflicted. It’s just a couple months, at most a year in Paris, but would that really be a reason not to try? He starts bringing her small gifts to the dinners, starting out small like her favorite dessert or small rocks that reminded him of her, but he soon gets more elaborate like bringing her his favorite books to borrow and throwing in a new set of threads for her sewing machine. 

He hopes that when she looks at the small gifts that she’ll start associating him with the things that make her happy and just maybe, she’ll fall for him too. 

I think you guys already know where Tim is going but I have to do this 

Marinette frequents a small coffee shop near the hotel that the Wayne Boys are staying in. She would just drink the coffee that her parents serve in the bakery, but they refused to let her load up her drinks with enough caffeine to get through her day. 

She always shows up at 7:00a, after all, she’s gotten better at this punctuality thing over the years. The owners already expect her at this point and already have her drink ready before she even steps foot through the door.

One morning, one of the owners ask her to deliver a coffee to the young man that fell asleep at one of their tables. 

“He’s the first person I’ve met whose order rivals yours Ms. Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette is impressed as she inhales the strong black coffee wafting from the mug. He definitely amped it up with two expresso shots and maybe a pump of hazelnut? If he could taste it over the bitterness of the expresso, she would be impressed.

As she sat the cup down on the table, she slid into the booth in front of him, patiently waiting for him to stir. Watching his soft exhales, Marinette felt at peace. She had never seen someone sleep so softly without moving a muscle. As quietly as she could, she brought out her sketchbook. She got about halfway through his frame when his soft breathing stopped. 

Her eyes snapped up to find his blue ones studying her cautiously. Of course, she mutters out apologizes at a million miles a minute, trying to explain that she needed practice for her living art class and that she was just dropping off his coffee and she was so sorry for drawing him without his permission. As she finally trails off, Marinette is more confused than ever. She thought he was awake, his eyes studying her, but now she wasn’t so confident. She was pretty sure he was still half asleep, assuming she was some sort of hallucination.

He reached out, draining his cup of coffee without coming up for a single breath.

“I didn’t think I was this sleep-deprived. Please beautiful sleep-induced entity, draw me if you must.”

Marinette bites her lip trying not to laugh as he tiredly pulls out a laptop, typing away at seemingly nothing. 

The next day, Marinette finds him in his same spot, already two empty mugs occupying the table. As she orders, she’s sure to grab an extra one for him before joining him once more. This time, Tim is the one to apologize as he realizes finally that she is a real girl and not a hallucination. 

Marinette laughs it off and the briefly chat about their lives. As Marinette gets up to leave for her morning classes, she promises to meet him for coffee the next morning. Surely enough, as she walks through the door, he’s already at their booth. He waves her over, motioning to the coffee mug holding her go-to order. They come to an agreement, he allows her to draw him for practice, she offers him the occasional advice. There is sometimes small talk, but it’s mostly just full of comfort that they found in each other’s presence. 

After weeks, Tim finally decides that he wants to get to know this beautiful coffee angel. He starts by asking her to meet at a bakery that he had been dying to try. As he arrives at the bakery, Marinette sheepishly admits that it was her parent’s bakery. Tim feigns ignorance, but that smirk he gives her makes her reconsider the innocent sleep-deprived man she had met weeks earlier. From now on, he has breakfast with the Dupain-Cheng family every morning. After all, your in-laws have to like you first before you can try anything else, right?

Finally, we have Damian. 

They meet in the living art class. He had already taken something similar at Gotham Academy, but he was curious to see the French side of something he cherished so dearly. 

At first, he hates her. She reminds him of a mixture between Dick and Tim and in all honesty, he only volunteered to pretend to be a foreign exchange student to spend the majority of the day away from his brothers. 

He slowly begins to change his mind though as he is partnered with her for a partner draw project. The teacher forces them to spend all of class drawing each other how they feel the world should see their partner. It involved a lot of sharing and as she became more confident in him, he slowly felt himself opening up to this strange girl as well. 

It was going fine until one day, two of her old classmates entered the classroom, trying to pick a fight with Damian. He remembered one of them, yes the sausage haired girl, her name was Lily perhaps? She tried to ask him out and he turned her down, hard. Now here she was, crying the fakest tears he had ever seen as some ombre haired woman was chewing him out. 

He was fine going on ignoring them, but then the ombre haired woman reached out for his notebook, tearing it from his grasps. She glanced over it for a second before raising it above her head and slamming it into the ground. She lifted her foot to stomp on it, but she never had a chance to finish. Before Damian had even moved a muscle, Marinette was standing above her, a murderous look in her eyes. The sausage haired woman helped the girl to her feet as they retreated quickly, both of their faces pale as they sent empty threats in Marinette’s direction. 

With a sigh, Marinette picked up his notebook, dusting it off gently before handing it back to him, apologizing for her ex-classmates. He wanted to let her know that he didn’t need her to look out for him, that he could handle it, but his mind flashed to the look in her eyes. If anything, his interest was now piqued by the girl. 

As the project came to an end, the moment of truth had finally come. Damian showed Marinette her portrait. He had drawn her as mother nature, warm and protective of her children and cold to anyone that threatened them. He would be lying if the small blush on her face didn’t boost his pride. When she showed Damian his portrait, he couldn’t help but let his jaw drop, even slightly. 

He looked like a medieval knight, posing on the defense, a slight trickle of what looked like blood dripping out the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, please don’t think it’s weird. It’s just the more you talked, and so passionately too about how you wanted to protect everything dear to you from your family to your pets, I couldn’t help but get swept away in this idea that you were some gallant knight-”

He cut her off with a single look as his face broke into a grin. He loved it. Everyone always described him as a demon or a baby bird, but a gallant knight, it was certainly a first.

That night at the hotel, he would search google for the best ways to ask out a girl. After all, he sure as hell wasn’t asking his brothers.

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[wellthatwasaletdown]

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/pagesix.com/2012/10/10/olivia-wilde-and-jason-sudeikis-have-sex-like-kenyan-marathon-runners/amp/

Found the “we have sex like Kenyan marathon runners” article.

The more I read about the things she has said the more I think she is an idiot. I find it particularly annoying when she reduced womanhood and femininity to listening to her vagina and having sex. Being feminine and being a woman are so much more than having intercourse. Womanhood is composed by so many different aspects of life for different women that can involve or not the standard perception of femininity. Her saying stuff like that make me believe that she would do anything to justify her horrendous behaviour and her sex driven personality.

Saying stuff like that minimises other struggles young girls and woman might be going through regarding their bodies and mental health in relation to sex. Saying “ups I got bored of your penis” is not really a reason on its own to get divorced or leave your partner (or at least I don’t think so) because there are couples who can’t have sex often or at all and are still together and put effort in and make it work. There are other ways to get intimacy and as people mature they learn to appreciate it. The worst thing is that it was for a comedic monologue but it’s not funny, it is plain embarrassing.

Sorry for my rant but I find her so obnoxious,pretentious and power hungry.

She is indeed

[reallifepotato]