#anyway that was a lot of fucking introspection (is that the word im looking for

[mamawasatesttube]

ok i put a longer post abt tim's Emotional State in drafts for when my brain is less melted but re: tim and going to college im just gonna get a lil silly with it. hear me out.

i have this whole vague story in my mind for tim's college days moonlighting as red robin as he tries and figures out what he wants out of life. (it's a while after rr leaves off and all because he's like. Super Depressed for a hot minute and then has to drag himself through actually bothering to get his GED and applying to college, etc., but eventually lucius is like hey. you're great with gadgets, and you clearly love tinkering. i'd hire you for r&d in a heartbeat but you need at the least a bachelor's of engineering. i know you have a lot of the technical skills, but you need a degree. so tim goes ugh fine i'll get a goddamn engineering degree how hard can it possibly be.)

anyways. i think it's a universal experience that if you go to college and you hang with the STEM crowd, you will unfortunately get to know at least one Fucking Guy. it's like brentwood arc; tim does make friends, but there is just this One Fucking Guy he cannot stand and will never stand. this Fucking Guy is in the common room playing his guitar at midnight. he's drunk and yelling and laughing really loud when people have exams coming up. he's convinced everyone adores him. there's also a detective/supernatural plot going on. the subplot is just that tim hates This Fucking Guy.

at some point, there's a story beat where he as red robin has to rescue That Fucking Guy from a real dicey situation, and That Fucking Guy is really shaken and grateful to him, and he's like okay. maybe. maybe we are making progress. but then the next time he encounters This Fucking Guy as tim drake, the guy is just like. "ohhhh hey drake you missed it last night, it was AWESOME!!! i had to save red robin from a KILLER ROBOT. he's pretty cool though i guess. i bet you wish you could be more like him huh??" and tim is just. I Will Not Grind My Teeth About This. I Will Not. his life is a fucking joke. he dismantles the toaster oven in the common room kitchen to cope. it's definitely to cope and not just so that That Fucking Guy won't be able to heat up his pop tarts in the morning.

at another point, This Fucking Guy looks at street mode, lowkey, unremarkable Normal Car-looking redbird and goes, aw, dude, i thought your dad is loaded?? he only got you a generic-ass sedan?? that sucks lol, if you want we can take my car down to the game instead. and tim is just Say One More Fucking Word About My Baby I Dare You I Fucking Dare You One More Fucking Word.

(also i like to toy with the idea of this being a university in metropolis - he's out of gotham, but not too far. keeps him from getting antsy about what if he's needed because he can get right back over there. and in the meantime, he can hang out with kon and kara a lot, and occasionally enable and be enabled by lois lane and her snooping habits. there's another subplot in which tim and lois get up to shenanigans. at least once.)

it's sort of an introspective thing of him trying to come to terms with the way he no longer wants a fully normal life the way he always used to assume he would - he has the option to walk away from the cape now, like he always thought he would one day, but he just can't give it up anymore. he's fallen into the same black hole he watched dick and bruce dive headlong into. it's also about him finding joy in tinkering and working with his hands and getting to spend more time as tim drake first and foremost. and it's about him venting to kon about That Fucking Guy while they have a lil picnic on the green while kon loses his absolute shit laughing. all against the backdrop of a little mystery or something. <3

OH and also, most importantly. zoanne wilkins is there and laughing at him for assuming college would be easy. and kon gets her into wendy the werewolf stalker. My City Now.

#rimi talks #rambles #tim #like.... do u see the vision. there are emotions underneath here #but right now i have a migraine so its silly time first and foremost. Tim Hates That Fucking Guy #we've all known a Fucking Guy right? im pretty sure its a universal experience. #the stories i could tell about the Fucking Guy i knew. man.

[emerystellar]

The Letter, Vocalized

(the ‘why’ of every song in my simon petrikov playlist- the poor dear i love him so much) heres the playlist -> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2bFlf5AD54EyszuCKqGRVV?si=0bdff473d752467a

then all the actual writing is below the cut because this shit is 4700 words long. im obsessed. anyway BEEP BEEP

—- 1. Everything in its Right Place ~ Radiohead

*Simon doesn’t exactly have a right place at the moment per se- so this song leads more like a plea for this place, and the build of the instruments really matches a sort of spiral- it’s also got that nice eerie Radiohead feeling that’s inexplicably chilly, which is something you’ll be seeing A Lot of throughout the playlist cuz even tho a lot of these lyrics are spot on it’s also about the sound of the songs too. and this one just happens to be both and it’s lovely. i also fucking love the repetition of the lyrics "there are two colors in my head / what was it you were trying to say?" that could be the black/dark brown of simon himself and the drilling blue of the ice king \:) and then. forgetting immediately what he was talking about/what was happening- what was it you were trying to say? anyway i love this song very much*

—- 2. Grammar King ~ Flocks

*okay you know how i just mentioned the sound of the songs being important? well boom. here we go! a strange instrumental introspection to break the drone :3 it sounds like being in a blizzard (or fittingly a mental spiral) but it’s still so crisp and refined!! i love it cuz it’s got such a wonderfully off kilter feeling to it. when the fionna and cake title sequence played i was surprised at how __frantic__ it was?? and this song captures that same breathless feeling and franticness in a really nice and crisp way (plus the drums are really cool) and it holds the same, like, hallmarks of aivi and surasshu’s stuff they did for the steven universe battle scenes (which the music of fionna and cake in general feels like a sweet cousin to SU music (Looking At You Mx. Sugar Hi I See You) but either way it’s a very solid vibe and it go crazy i like it \:)!!*

—- 3. In Two ~ Will Paquin

*i think this fits very well as him singing to the idea of crown itself! "half of me is half of you now/.../you sit so high, like a cranium that rests on the spine /.../ can you feel me buckling beneath you" he sounds so soft (will paquin's voice is gorgeous) so it's almost as a love or reverence for his idolization of the crown :3 at the moment his quest is literally To Find and Have and Be it again, so i don't think he fully resents it- but it's definitely still an odd relationship with it, something so incredibly fascinating and i think there is a LOT to say about it! "in the end i won't escape from the sight of you.../is it even a game if in the end i let you kill me?"*

—- 4. The Place Where He Inserted the Blade ~ Black Country, New Road

*this song is so tender! it paints a picture of the past, immersive in memory. one bit i especially love is that with each new "Good morning" it could be interpreted as simon forgetting that part of himself again, benig wiped clean, falling into becoming the ice king again. \:) it's lovely! it also feels as if he's begging betty, the motif of "show me the place where he inserted the blade / where is your light / am i home?" is him calling out to her, asking where she is, where Golb is. show me the place where you are, betty, please. they're both clinging to these ideas of each other, and it's so hopeful and strained, and this song does a wonderful job of depicting it!!*

—- 5. The Mind Electric ~ Miracle Musical

*you really think that for one second i couldn't include the Token Song About A Guy Named Simon Going Insane? i feel like, moreso than other people i've seen, i really really really want to explore the idea of the repeated memory/identity loss really fucking with his head- it obviously has, and even though we may have seen more of this loss when he'd first gotten the crown, i'd love to dip my toes into the angst that it still continually hurts him to try and remember. citing my sources here, it's similar to jim in good omens- looking where the furniture isn't. anyway i went a bit on a tangent but point being this song represents this insanity! the sound of the song itself and the glitches/bits of samples like memories flitting in and out of his head, trying to remember himself against all odds, trying to fight the manic or strange urges that come with being the ice king, "my brain has claimed its glory over me/i've a good heart albeit insane" and he really is. the more time he spends trapped inside of himself, the more he questions his existence and reality, yea? that wretched goddamn crown, "spiraling down thy majesty". even though it's angsty i really really really want to see them delve way into this when he does reunite with the crown, more viciously than they ever could have back in AT.

doctor, i can't tell if i'm not me.*

—- 6. In Between ~ WILLIS

*some could argue this is a little too light bedroom-poppy of a sound for the purposes of this playlist, but the lyrics are wonderful! the whole introduction definitely gives the same meandering, aimless feeling he had when he was the ice king, reinforced with the line "this place still feels the same/i am bound in hindsight from now". you could also see "take me back to summertime" as a sort of take me away from the cold and ice, take me back to who i used to be, happy and unbroken- maybe thats a little of a stretch tho ;P and "meet me at a point in life when I feel more in control" framed as a last plea to betty, a perfect hopless little cherry on top to these poor dears scattered across spacetime \:)*

—- 7. The Bug Collector ~ Hayley Heynderickx

*this is a song betty sings to simon. with the different situations presented as small trivial things to the singer, and the subject of the song being scared over seemingly nothing, but they take care of it anyway. it's still worth it to them. this matches how betty treats ice king- he has his own set of motives and problems and thought processes completely seperate from simon, which yes is infuriating, but it's part of helping him, yes? this song sounds both defeated and resolute at the same time, which is a fantastic balance that is hard to strike. it reeks of the unwavering love between the two of them and it's very special to me*

—- 8. Evil ~ Interpol

*i feel like this is could be viewed in the context of simon ritualistically trying to get back to betty. "heaven restores you in life", as was done, "you're weightless, you are exotic/you need something for which to care" both things very true of betty. i also just really enjoy the sound of the song- it communicates a very certain desperacy and i love it \:) also the story of the animatronic Norman and the music video being of someone/something that distinctly doesn't belong in the place that they are, with simon not really belonging anywhere anymore- overall it's a really nice ensemble for this purpose, i may be a little biased tho thanks to norm my boy my baby haha*

—- 9. Bathed In Sound ~ Cosmo Sheldrake

*Fantastically, this song sounds like being underwater, melting into something. This, to me, is a bit more interpretive than the other songs on the playlist- of course we're not actually talking about whales, but i think "the wonder of that wild wet world beneath" could refer more to the sense of drowinging in the madness, the magic. The song presents it so slowly, so calmly, as if it is this warm and wonderful thing to sink into- and I'm sure for Simon, the idea of sinking back into that comfortable emptiness is extremely appealing at this point. He wants it. He needs it. Tense and cold and swallowing him whole, He Needs It.*

—- 10. Daydream / Wetdream / Nightmare ~ Saint Motel

*SO much of this song rings true with him!! "Well, I can die a happy man if I could be with you/behind these eyes I believe fantasies can come true" This is self-explanatory, he wants to be home with Betty. Find the time to be the man that you like to talk to/in dreams, it seems that I can be anyone you want me to, oh" The nature of dreams being of the subconscious mind, and the implications that Simon can in fact remember at least some of the things he percieves as Ice King (with lapses in those memories, of course, just like real dream remembering) is extremely curious. This whols song reads very idyllic and hopeful with the way the vocals are sang, and I love the fact that yes- against all idiot odds- the poor guy just wants to be himself, wants things to be concrete, just wants his wife back. The song itself seems to be split up in three pieces, same as the veritable phases of Simon/IK's lifetime- it matches very well, and represents the same sort of wistful nature he's got goin' on.*

—- 11. The Fool On The Hill ~ The Beatles

*If I haaaad to choose a song here that fits the most perfectly out of anything here- it might be this one. That could be the hyperfixation on the song talking, but, man. Man!! He really is just a fool on the hill!! The strange silly man with patches in his memory, sitting atop his icy mountain. A"And nobody wants to know him, they can see that he's just a fool." which is very true of the wayward motive of the princesses that he displays as IK. It's fantastic, I love this as an examination of his IK behavior. "And the eyes in his head see the world spinning round"- aptly implying those eyes don't belong to the Ice King, per se, because they're __Simon's__ eyes. Genius!! Unintentional connected genius!!!! Love it!!!!!*

—- 12. In an Ice Palace ~ The Music Tapes

*the title is a dead giveaway, and even though it doesn’t have lyrics, i still think it fits that like… somber whimsicality might be the term? of a magical world gone wrong \:) and the melody is gorgeous and chilling in all the ways it should be. whether you see it as a reuniting with the crown and his return to ice king, or as a wistful and awful recollection of it, up to listener’s interpretation because i can and will think of it as both. it is crystalline and strange and i love it very, very much \:) I also really love the almost Rankin/Bass or Charlie Brown feelings of it? The vocalizations and harmonies feel so fantastic in that sense, and it really drives home the quaint nostalgic winter feeling like not much else could in this specific sense, while still being unrefined enough to represent the strangeness of IK.*

—- 13. Waves ~ Bahamas

*"There's a part of it, that I'll miss/at the heart of it, your cold kiss"- god, he misses Betty, and even now when he's meandering through worlds he misses who he used to be. this song is an extremely tender and wistful apology to her, and to marcy, and to himself perhaps. he knows it was too much, and the motif of the waves is excellent for this- waves in the ocean are scary and unforgiving, always ready to sweep you under. "And when I knew I'd become the ocean's slave/I just stayed" (when he'd gotten taken over by the crown he just. kept it. he tried to use it to keep marceline safe until he knew it was too late. and he became far, far too attached, the easy comfort of forgetting. it's horrid!!!! i love it*

—- 14. Room with a View ~ Russ Morgan and his Orchestra

*I picked up Russ Morgan from Everywhere at the End of Time, but out of all his songs (even the more uncanny ones,) i felt this one fit the best. this is the moment betty sacrificed herself- the "room" with the view being the closing of golb's stomach, him being the last thing she say- it feels romantic, even aside from the lyrics, the instruments themselves do- much of 40's-50's connotates to be. also take a minute to imagine if they'd listened to this song together back when they were both human. danced to it, even. i'm a sucker for motifs and goddamn.*

—- 15. Video Killed the Radio Star ~ The Buggles

*i’ve always loved how sad this song presents itself!! another big sense of defeat covered in whimsy, i feel like it’s either ice king killed the man who metaphorically was once simon, or vice versa, and the Guilt that he might feel over either one of these situations..! it also kind of plays into the fact that a remote is their interdimensional tool when he goes on the journey with f&c hehe, we can’t rewind we’ve gone too faaar~ it’s such a general well-rounded song for stuff like this it’s so tonally interesting and that’s the kind of thing i am loving for this playlist If Ya Couldn’t Fuckinf Tell Hahahahhehehehe :3*

—- 16. No Surprises ~ Radiohead

*this song has always connotated to me a sense of “please for fucks sake just let the guy REST!!” which is extremely true here. I feel like it can also be read in a sense of memory loss- he starts losing his functions again, things that *should* tip his mind off or remind him of things but don’t, alarm bells that should be ringing in the face of danger are silent, instinct and memory gone. the instrumental is also extremely cold and somber and you know that’s a recurring theme at this point-*

—- 17. The Funeral ~ Band of Horses

*Help, my inner criminal minds nostalgia is showing … anyway, all things considered. Spencer Reid has some similar things going on of odd emotional capacities, schizophrenia (connected to the idea of insanity,) and just. the general idea of someone insanely intelligent being shadowed by this looming reputation, but still having that lost deer sort of empathy.. and in general, the song as a stand-alone I’ve always seen it as someone waiting for death (their __own__ funeral in a sense) and he definitely seemed ready to embrace that as a way to not be so empty and lonely, and maybe see Betty once more. It’s very interesting to read him like this, and again, it’s the same sort of hopelessness he feels in the beginning and Prismo’s episode. Poor honeybun.*

—- 18. Cold Island ~ My Singing Monsters

*This one definitely seemed like a necessary edition, it’s always read as isolation and the mental shift and resulting backwards appreciation that causes? “Look at the stars in the big black ink,/tell me what you feel and tell me what you think./Is it cold outside? Is it cold out?” holds such a deliciously dark weight to it [that tiktok found and stomped into the ground, but it still applies nonetheless]. It’s just.. so gorgeous, and solemn, and for an MSM song it’s pretty damn good- it’s complexity and layers are quite similar to Another Certain Unidentified Man’s mental complexity, yeah?*

—- 19. Forevertime Journeys ~ naran ratan

*Another simple instrumental of Vibes, this is windy and soft, holding an uncanny sense in its detuned twinkles. i also love the sort of windchime essence of it, it's so very gentle and soft just as he really is down inside. i have a massive love for these sorts of soft things, little breaks from the madness, a bit of peace. light glinting through the ice, perhaps. it's wonderful, concise, and thoughtful.*

—- 20. Bitter Sweet Symphony ~ The Verve

*ohh? is that a timeless anthem against the dreary drone of normalcy i hear????? something that simon might resonate with considering his strange relationship with normalcy and being exploited for just how perfectly mundane he is???? hrmm, yes it is! and in fact his entire existence up until now has been extre,ely bittersweet- to be sentenced to this, after a life of wonder and magic, SURROUNDED by wonder and magic? i thonk this really represents te catalyst of him missing being part of the madness... everything is far too quiet now. he had gotten used to the loud static of memory and silly brashness of being under the crown that now, all seems lonelier than ever.*

—- 21. Bluebird of Misfortune ~ Toby Fox (Deltarune)

*Someone completely taken over by ice-related magic… though in a different fashion, it definitely makes me think of Snowgrave. Slowly succumbing to a power quiet and strange. The song itself is also eerie but still light in that way- asking a question of what used to be there and what it has become now. Perhaps I’m reading into it too much and not articulating it well enough, it’s hard for such a double entendre like this is, but in a sense he’s both Noelle __and__ Berdly as it relates to snowgrave. the destruction of his old self. the idea of trying to fight back against this thing, uncanny and unwavering, coercing you into forgetting the relationships with those you held dear and simply becoming as magically powerful as possible? Yeah, i think we can all see it..*

—- 22. Philadelphia ~ Alt-J

"Am I cold, I cannot tell." (True!! I don't think he's able to feel cold in any sense anymore.) The beginning sets up an extremely melancholy tone, extremely fit with the rest of the playlist's purpose. The guitar itself echoing as it does, and the high chilling strings- i love it. It's also fairly raw and a little more... darkly intimate might be the word? Not in an odd way of course, but I definitely think Simon's mind is darker than we'll get to see on screen, especially with his longing for Betty. Y'all already know I'm obsessed with the loss of identity, the being stuck between two poles, two bastions of existence on different ends of the same coin- "And I'm losing my ability to fathom/'Awake' and 'not awake'" like damn true pop off*

—- 23. The Nowhere King ~ Centaurworld

*A media song that I feel kind of goes hand-in-hand with how AT handles Simon’s story in general, and the sense of eerieness that surrounds it. I think we can agree that him becoming Ice King again is endgame one way or another (my implications of this i am not sure i’m just Scared of it) and the sense that it will not be all he’s been wishing, and he will fall to it again. even though the concept of the nowhere king is different, i do think it’s that he’ll essentially be a nothing king instead. I don’t think this is going to solve the emptiness, the sense of loss, and potentially losing his memory again will Absolutely take a toll on him.*

—- 24. Potatus Et Molassus ~ Over the Garden Wall

*Another related media song, this sort of somber tone is very very special to me, and the whole idea of succumbing to the Beast after a long time of trying to fight it (becoming the Ice King after a long time of trying to build himself back up from it) and the idea of it being ever-present, waiting for you. ~~Also i used to be a huge Bad End Friends fan so. it has a soft spot there :3~~ The choir resonanting with that kind of antiquated sense of death or eerieness does mirror the fact that simon has been going this for years. and years. but he still holds all of those now completely historical values and I feel like in the "endgame" of the crown he will return to that kind of solemn funeral-like nature. it's giving up, after all.*

—- 25. Kiss Me, Son of God ~ They Might Be Giants

*I aaaaalmost wasn’t gonna add this one, but. then i thought about the contrast of simon prime to the other Simons (namely the Winter King) and by god, it shows the Possibility of what he could be. and kind of describes their weird kinship/relationship/whatever it was?? The song really talks about a sense of defeat to me almost, and it also touches on the sense of how he would react to so many people loving him at the moment.. the world really is screaming “kiss me son of god” to him, yeah? and being Ice King in general could be considered a godlike pedestal in some senses, even if he’s not taken seriously. i have so many thoughts about this song*

—- 26. The Sea of Tranquility ~ The Music Tapes (ft. Orbiting Human Circus)

*Ggghhh another song i tried so hard not to add cuz i’m OBSESSED with it and i put it on like every playlist.. but there’s definitely begging for solace in “oh, we’ll be old and weary friends.. god bless that all this never ends” and it’s such a soft and raw song i love it. ifsmgkfnejkf it sounds like him pleading for his old life back, a life where he is important and seen, or maybe begging to stay in this limbo where he doesn’t have to forget? there’s so many ways you could read this but it just reads like someone so, so weak begging the universe for comfort \:-) plus there’s my bias towards the song bc i just really love it.. another elephant 6 represent moment*

—- 27. goodnight nebula ~ EMI//NOVA

*okay yeah, maaaybe this is a shameless self plug. and it's again an instrumental focused on describing the magic and element of ice itself with crystalline tones, because at that point it's a hugely important part of his character, yeah? even as simon, it's inescapable. i wonder if IK ever went out and looked over the mountaintops to see the sunrise. and simon, back there, faintly watching, remembering. it's a nice breath of fresh air, tender and contemplative, methinks.*

—- 28. Heartaches ~ Al Bowlly

*Internally I fought with myself over this one because this song is starting to become extremely overused in fandom spaces as Everywhere at the End of Time became more mainstream, but really, it fits the energy of Simon so much better than any other cases I've seen it being used in, what with the deas of depersonalization and memory loss. And of course, obviously, the endless Sisyphus love story of him and Betty. It's just a burning memory, after all. There's not a ton I can say about the song that hasn't already been said somewhere, in some capacity, but it stiiiil does indeed do very well to describe the solemn tradgedy of Simon Petrilov with the very sounds of the past he held dear.*




—- (Bonus- not on spotify yet!) 29. flurry fugue - EMI//NOVA

*i'm not sure if anyone realizes yet that i literally wrote this song to describe how i see simon??? magical, eerie, yet sweet.... and of course it's called fugue because that was exactly what he was as ice king- and the song decays a little over the course of the runtime, just as he did. i have a tendency to write these soft instrumental songs and i do think it relfects the style of the shows' music very well too! i've had a lot of good feedback that displays it's doing what I want it to, but i don't know if anyone knows this is LIterally dedicated to him?? if anyone has picked up that on the cover.. \:) i love him so much guys you have no idea*

~~~~~~

Honorable Mentions that I couldn't/wouldn't add

—- No Children ~ The Mountain Goats

*It’s a huge trigger song and I can’t physically listen to this without spiraling, so I don’t want it on the playlist, but. I still think it fits his story. The kind of last-hurrah flippant hopelessness he has, especially showcased in Prismo’s episode, god I’m glad Fionna and Cake are helping fix that even in some sense because THE POOR DEAR NO. it’s such a ridiculously tragic song for a tragic man. i do think he could be singing it to betty as a sort of finality.. not that there’s gonna BE ANY cuz i don’t WANT THERE TO BE FINALITY unless it is HAPPY…. :)! it also really goes to show that he's been in his own sort of living hell for so long- it begs the question of whether or not betty was selfish to try and guarantee his future to be long and meandering by sacrificing herself, instead of. well. "i hope we both die," this song is also just too fuckin tragic so i dont have a lot of Text Evidence here cuz if i look at the lyrics i will cry so !! you get the idea tho.*

—- Mind Electric Demos/Inside the Mind of Simon ~ Miracle Musical

*They’re not on Spotify, but if I had my way, I would add much more of the Mind Electric demos, they all show different facets and I love them all they are my children and like. It’s Simon. He Has a Mind. It’s Broken Up and Insane, Yeah? Yeah. We already went over this in The Mind Electric in detail so i’ll save you all that but point is i want it As Much as possible on here :3 (also can we talk about how in demo 2 the agonizing screams sounded like simon AND THEN SHIFTED TO THE LOWER AND MORE GRAVELLY CADENCE OF ICE KING. WTF. MADE FOR HIM)*

—- Biggering (Demo) ~ The Lorax

*I didn’t end up adding this one simply cuz the lyrics fit Winter King!Simon more than Our!Simon, even though the tone of the song and distress and cadence still really fits our simon.. it could be connected to him trying to get to Betty, but I feel like that’s not exactly Biggering in the same sense as trying to get away from something? It could still apply to him trying to get away from being the Ice King but i feel like it also doesnt quiiiite fit now that his motives have changed towards it anyway.. we’ll see what happens as the season progresses tho…..*

~~~~~~

by the way! i likely will add more to this playlist, but this is already a whole fuckton of analysis and connection to write out and it took me Days to actually shove it on paper so for future entires just Ask me why i included it if it doesn't become apparent in and of itself!

~~~~~~

--

anyway yeah is it apparent that i fucking love this guy yet? i’m just. i’m so Fucking bent out of shape over it i LOVE HIM. \:)

for some of these there is an extent of "you've gotta hear it to get what i mean" bc i can only describe so much here without being insanely redundant (and i feel like i have been anyway) so please do listen to the playlist i am very proud of it and insanely obsessed with it If You Can't Tell

hes so much more than just a sopping wet cat istg y'all. smiles so hard at you. anyway thank you for reading it means a lot you stuck with me to the end

#simon petrikov #fionna and cake #emery wrote a thing #emery did a thing #HOOHOO #hyperfixation moment #im OBSESSED #poetrystellar

[elytrafemme]

hello, same csranboo fictive from yesterday with "favorite quote form every cs chapter" but i forget to do this again after only doing chapter 1.

but yea chapter one.. favorite line(?) quote. its a quote.

favorite quite is uh "a fucking convenience store."

okay anyways i didnt actually look through the whole chapter for that, so i feel like im lying through omission here. but i did see the line on an open tab and find it funny. so here we are i guess, a lair who cant fully lie. that sounds a bit too introspective, so ill go now. till another time i guess

-🥀 heres an annon tag or something for the sake of being known

hiya! no worries there r a lot of chapters HAHA . ppl ask me sometimes for my favorite like whole ass SCENES and i still forget like half the fic lmao

i am so fond of using italics and variations of the word fuck to punctuate points i think it's so good. it's a cs!tubbo special one might say !!! i liked that bit too so im glad u also enjoyed it :]

awesome okay :DDD hope 2 see u around soon but okay if not also

#nightmare.ask #wilted rose anon #i can't actually put the emoji in the tag bc i can only see this emoji from my phone #i'll see if i can edit tags on my phone and hope tumblr works with me but maybe not idk

[peejsocks]

ryan dunn x f!reader part 2

part 1

a/n: ryan smut is so fun, everytime, i’m kind of in disbelief. anyways hope you guys like this, even if it’s not as good as the first part <3 (thank u for requesting it too, i love that u loved the first so much 🥰)

disclaimers/tags: mile high club. nsfw. idc if the structure of the plane/pod doesn’t make sense im stupid you cannot explain anything to me so don’t try. i took prompts from these lists

Immediately when you walk back out, hands on your back pockets and Ryan still holding your hoodie behind, Bam is the one to make the comment about your chest.

"Where was that hiding the whole day?" The dark haired boy lets out such a stupid laugh it makes you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. Ryan followed up on his words and sprinted towards his best friend, chasing him around the warehouse and landing a couple of punches to his back, eventually satisfied when he managed to hit the balls.

In the meantime, the rest of the crew still coming back inside carrying plastic plates and looking very unaware of your dirty act, Johnny stepped close to you with a suspicious look in his eyes. "Where were you two?"

"Ryan found an office with an AC, we were just chilling." You hope he doesn't remember to check for it later. Knoxville simply "aha"s and you change the subject. "How gross was lunch?"

You don't ignore Ryan, per say. It's more like you had made a choice to become a mysterious, introspective person. This trip to Japan for Jackass: The Movie would be interesting, to say the least.

You don't ignore Ryan, per say. It's more like you had made a choice to become a mysterious, introspective person. This trip to Japan for Jackass: The Movie would be interesting, to say the least.

You weren't even gonna go, until your blonde…uhm…friend, called.

"Look, dude, I just think you're missing out on a lot of fun if you don't go." He had a point. "They're willing to pay, so why not?"

Now you're riding a dumb limo Bam rented because he thought it'd be funny, forgetting good jokes usually need a punchline, on the way to a private airport to get on a private jet. Bless your boss for thinking you were competent enough to welcome the CKY boys that first time they visited Big Brother, maybe you should send him a postcard.

Helping you pick up your suitcase, Ryan speaks directly to you for the first time that day, and of course it's a nod to your less PG interaction. "I’m not wearing any underwear. Thought you’d like to know."

"Yeah, that's usually hotter when women say it." Your eyes avoid his. "Plus, I bet you're not wearing any because you forgot to separate a clean pair after you packed."

You both laugh and ease up around each other. Not wanting to push it, you sit by yourself in the back of the aircraft. They had really cashed out on this huge thing.

Ryan sits next to you, and giddiness actually spreads through your chest like a school girl hoping her crush would look back at her.

"I shouldn’t allow myself to get this close to you." Body taking over the corridor seat, leaving the one in between you vacant, his hands crossed on top of his stomach and his head is hung low, like a defeated disappointed father. It's a joke, he's fucking with you.

"Then walk away, there's plenty of seats available." Unlike the blonde, you're looking right at the person next to you. "There's even a separate pod thing at the end. Knock yourself out." Just like a school girl again, you push him away hoping he'd stay.

Ignoring your snappiness, knowing you well enough to be sure you're faking a bad temper, he leaves but not without testing you. "It’s hot when you talk back. You'll know where to find me. I missed you, by the way."

With that, he walks further into the plane, probably heading to that pod you mentioned.

A few hours later, many left until your destination was reached, it's pretty quiet as everyone's asleep. Bored and restless, you had spent the entirety of the flight so far trying to doze off but a certain boy kept you up.

You missed him too, more than that, you wanted to be with him all the time and repeat that day's dance all over. So, naturally, you stayed away from him as much as you could.

Being stuck in an aluminium box together was proving that keeping your distance had taken a toll on you, and all you wanted was to talk it out with him. After having sex with him again, obviously.

Quietly getting up and looking for the right door, you finally slide it open, not bothering to knock.

Ryan is laying on his back in the broader seat, legs stretched, awake. He pulls the headphones down, CKY blaring, and looks at you. "How can I help?"

"I’ve been thinking about you." Hopefully, annoyance shines through on your face, not wanting the confession to be read as affectionate. Sliding the door shut, you continue, "Show me how much you missed me."

Once more proving he's not a man who fucks around, Ryan pulls you to his lap by your arm and connects your lips. There's no shyness or hesitation this time. It's like drinking that first gulp of cold water when you were terribly thirsty, embarrassing how quickly you let out a satisfied hum.

Strong hands squeeze your ass as you stradle the thighs you had been dreaming about for weeks. In between kisses, his low voice comes back to haunt you with beautiful, filthy words. "There’s so many things I wanna do to you."

Not looking to hurt yourself either, you're determined to get what you came for and not listen to him too much, scared you'll fall under a spell or something. So you just kiss him again, but he insists. "Tell me, do you think of me and what we did when you're playing with yourself?"

The question throws you off because, yes, of course you do. How could you not, when it was the best you had in a long time and so good it made you wanna go back for more every single day. Ryan made you feel like a pervert, and the fact that he had the audacity to ask such a thing meant he knew the answer, wanting only to piss you off or make you say it.

It's so infuriating you end up releasing a grunt of frustration and pulling possibly too hard on his golden locks. That gives you an idea. He keeps talking, "Wow, I didn't know you were agonizing this bad. Why would you do that to yourself, sweetheart?"

He deserved it. You grab a handful of his beard and pull on it, not scared to hurt him. "Shut the fuck up, and stop pretending you haven't thought about me like that too. Are you gonna do something about it or what?"

If heat was the cataclyst for you the first time, now it's abstinence. Both dangerous fuels for two friends getting comfortable sleeping with each other.

Hugging you with his whole body and flipping you around so you're laying with your back on the leather seat, the throbbing in your core intesifies when thinking about how strong Ryan is, and how you'd let him man-handle you forever. If that was the only thing you could do for the rest of your days, you'd take it.

Your lips being stuck together isn't enough to contain your grunting and moaning. A little more aware that anyone could walk in on you, you slow down and Ryan stops.

"Is everything okay?" His constant concern is a new source of attraction for you.

"I’ve never done something like this before." You're ashamed, but his eyes are so comforting you feel okay sharing your insecurities right to them. "I know it's not, like, public but still. They're closer to us than last time. We got lucky once."

"We don't have to do this now, if you want. But I really, really want to. I'll take care of you, alright? If you get too loud. And I'll watch myself too." It was important to you that he understood you didn't want your friends to hear you, and respected you. "I need you to be quiet for me, can you do that?"

You nod, framing his neck with your arms. There's probably a silly look of affection, the one you wanted to avoid, in your eyes as you lean in to kiss him again. Luckily, that would soon be replaced by lust again, as Ryan's hands fly to the band of your sweatpants. If you did this a third time, you promised yourself you'd surprise him with a proper outfit, dressing up and picking out matching lingerie, for compensation.

He doesn't take them off yet, preferring to slide his fingers under your underwear and start working you slowly. You fight a moan, cursing yourself for not simply making a booty call earlier instead of waiting for the most complex situation to have sex with your friend again.

"You're so wet, already." Your eyes are shut and you're biting your lip, struggling to keep silent. "Princess, you're too nice to me."

Oh, the nickname is low.

Actually pulling your pants down now, he moves to start eating you out. Immediately, alarm sounds go off inside your head and you protest, "Ryan, no, please, they'll hear."

"Relax, I got you." He grabs your hand and places it on his head. "Whenever you feel like moaning, just pull."

Troublemaker.

It's one of the hardest things you ever had to do, swallowing every whimper and nearly drawing blood from your lips, at some point you even bite your tongue and pull on Ryan's hair to not curse out loud as well. His response nearly makes your blood boil, "Good girl, that's a good fucking girl." Did he have to be so good at it? Languidly, with a mouthful, slowly drinking you. It's overwhelming, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

You have no choice but to push him away from in between your legs. "I can't, it's too much." You're panting, he's grinning. "Alright, fucker, take your shirt off. You're gonna let me look at you this time."

There's weirdly enough room in this individual pod for him to stand up halfway and pull his shirt off, muscles flexing. God, his biceps are way too nice. Even those stupid dad rock musician bracelets look good on him. Eric Clapton, eat your heart out.

His pale chest is a little reddened, sweet eyes looking down at you and bulge in his pants more noticeable. Less shy, you keep your eyes on him, on your knees on the seat, and start removing your top. It wasn't too tight, and it was a long flight, so you opted to forego a bra. You swear you'll never forget the needy look on his face when he sees your breasts, uncovered and free.

He's pushing you back down on the seat, hands tangled in your hair, and you begin unbuckling his belt. He stops you.

"Princess." Chests heaving in synch, you're looking straight into each other's eyes, more intimate than you've ever been with anybody before. "I love this, but I want more. I want this every day. I want to come home to you. I want to tell the guys about you."

A shiver runs through your whole body, and you smile. Settling better under him, you whisper, still looking in his eyes and noses grazing, "Say you want me, and I'm yours."

"I want you." Voice never cracking, reassurance washing over you.

Brain, heart and cunt connected, you push him down flush to you with a hand on his back, kissing him as passionately as you could and begging for more.

Finally allowing you to take his pants off, Ryan expresses his concern for your well being again, and you tel him you're fantastic. It's true.

At first, it's as uncomfortable as it gets. The leather making too much noise and your ribs hitting the arm rest and hard walls of the jet too forcefully. You and Ryan manage to talk through it and figure out the best position. That being pretty much the same, but a pillow rested behind your back, both of you angled diagonally in the seat.

Your legs are as apart as they can be whilst wrapped around his waist, heels on the small of his back. His hands grip your waist and your neck, so you don't have too much wiplash from the movements.

After all that careful setting, he finally slides in you, and you bite his shoulder to avoid screaming. His length was fine, comfortable, but you were too sensitive because of all the build up. Surely how much you wanted this didn't help either. Or actually, it did, a lot. Ryan moves in and out of you with ease, throwing caution out the window. He convinces you he's not gonna last long so you gotta tough it out for now.

It's true, it doesn't last too long. You beg him to go faster, the noises of flesh hitting flesh worrying you, and when he randomly finds your G-spot, it's done. You clench around him, his hip thrust get out of synch and you move your hand to cover his mouth, predicting he'd scream your name again. Both of your bodies shake with the aftermath, exhausted and exhilirated.

Ryan takes a carry-on bag from his backpack, surprising enough that he even had one, and gives you a hand towel. You scrunch your face and he laughs. After cleaning up and putting back your clothes, he hands you a second blanket, eyes expectant. You take it, laying back down on the seat.

"I know what we just did, but I don't think there's actual room for both of us to sleep here."

"I guess you'll just have to sleep on top of me." He pinches your side, struggling to find space to lay on even after you press your body to the wall. He's shirtless, which you appreciate because it means you get to admire his bare arms longer.

"You know what this means, right?" You've already put your head on his chest, not too resistant to do it anyway. "If the guys wake up and we're the only ones not back out there."

"We can tell them we were playing UNO." You laugh genuinely at that, sounds exactly like something the two of you would say to get out of a shitshow. "I don't mind, do you?"

You lift your head up a little, chin resting where your cheek was seconds ago, and shake it. His hand brushes your hair behind your ear, holding your head for a second before he kisses the top of it. "Then we're good. Get some sleep."

When you do wake up, both somehow feeling jetlagged already, puffy faces probably turn red when the whole group sitting at the front part of the plane stares at you.

Johnny is standing, arms crossed in front of him, leaning sideways on one of the seats. "I mean, assaulting our ears like that twice in two weeks? That's really disrespectful."

You're mortified, getting even more nervous when Knoxville spews out something about payback and being glad you came along on the trip.

#ryan dunn x reader #ryan dunn #jackass fanfic #johnny knoxville #bam margera #chris pontius #jackass

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Perfectly Fine

Prompt: Hi! I would love to read something from you featuring asexual Remus! - anon

it is project onto fictional characters hour my dudes

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions of the reality of being a sex-repulsed ace in a very allo world, nothing explicit

Pairings: none you heathens

Word Count: 1358

It takes them longer to figure it out than it should have and honestly, that’s on them.

But Remus is Remus, and that's perfectly fine.

It takes them longer to figure it out than it should have and honestly, that’s on them.

So it’s no secret that Remus’s particular sense of humor is equally as derived from what he finds funny and what makes the others the most uncomfortable. Logan did an analysis of it once and the results were 49%-51%. Which one is which varies but the quantities are incredibly consistent.

The trick is figuring out that the balance applies to Remus too.

And sure, the idea of Remus being uncomfortable is…difficult to remember sometimes, given that, you know, he’s Remus, but it’s there! It’s worth remembering! He’s a Side too! But considering his metric for ‘uncomfortable’ is wildly different from everyone else’s, it’s easy for them to overlook it. Maybe he gets some excitement out of grossing himself out too, maybe there’s a sick thrill in seeing just how close he can get himself to vomiting, honestly, who knows. Remus is Remus and that’s perfectly fine.

So here’s the big one that, again, took them way too long to figure out.

Remus is asexual. Not just asexual, sex-repulsed asexual.

Let’s reiterate: Remus is Remus and that’s perfectly fine.

It just…took them by surprise, is all.

“Wait,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses, “you’re asexual?”

“Those are the words I used,” Remus says, his head hanging off the couch.

“I—I heard you, I am…simply surprised,” Logan settles on, closing his notebook and setting it aside. “I would not have guessed that Thomas’s Sides would have different sexualities or romantic orientations.”

“What does it matter, Pocket Protector?”

“It doesn’t, it’s interesting to me.”

“Does that mean that all of us could potentially have different sexualities?” Patton’s head pokes above the counter as he digs for the good muffin tray—not the one Janus swiped three hours ago, of course not—in the cabinets. “Or no?”

Logan shrugs. “I imagine it would be possible, though I find it likely that at least some of us share Thomas’s.”

“My ears are burning,” Roman announces, plopping onto the couch next to his brother, “what incredibly gay thing are we talking about now?”

“Yeesh, Princey,” Virgil mutters, recovering from flinching horribly into the chair, “don’t do that, you scared the hell outta me.”

“Sorry, Virgil.” Roman taps Remus’s leg, hanging up over the back of the couch next to his head. “Why’re you upside-down?”

“Why’re you right-side up?”

“Remus…prompted a discussion on sexualities,” Logan says carefully, sparing a glance at Remus, “and we were debating the question of if we, as Thomas’s Sides, all have different sexualities.”

Remus kicks Roman in the head. “Told them I’m ace.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.”

“Really, and here I thought Remus beginning a complex introspective conversation was the height of character accuracy.”

“Payback,” Virgil sniggers as Roman startles horribly as Janus appears from behind the couch. “All jokes aside, I’m with L, I, uh, didn’t expect Remus to be ace.”

“Why not?”

Janus scoffs. “Couldn’t be the number of sex jokes you make on a daily basis, not at all.”

Remus shrugs.

“I think it’s just surprising considering how comfortable you are making the jokes, kiddo.”

“The fuck makes you think I’m comfortable with them?”

“Lang—what?” Patton’s head pops up again.

“A wild Patton appears!”

“Has Thomas…ever been interested in Pokémon?”

“What do you mean, comfortable?” Patton tilts his head, focused entirely on Remus and not the others making Pokémon jokes. “Are—are you not comfortable?”

“Remus isn’t exactly known for his ‘comfortable’ sense of humor, Padre,” Roman says, leaning back on the couch to make eye contact around Remus’s legs.

“But—but that—hold on.” Patton stands up—“ah! More Wild Patton!”—and puts his hands on the counter. “Remus, why would you make jokes that make you uncomfortable?”

Remus eyes him from upside-down. “Why does anyone do anything?”

“Sheer, absolute boredom, yeah, yeah, we get it,” Virgil sighs, “but it’s a good question, Remus.”

Remus just shrugs, only for it to dislodge him from his precarious position and slide toward the floor. Roman watches him collapse into a graceless heap and rolls his eyes, lying down on the couch.

“Hey! You stole my spot!”

“You’re the one who moved. Hey—!” Roman squawks in surprise as Remus throws himself on top of him. “You’re squishing me!”

“Too bad for you.”

“Remus,” Janus says softly, “are you…does sex make you uncomfortable?”

“Like maggots are crawling through my bones!”

The living room is quiet for a moment, enough to make Remus push himself up and stare around at them.

“What?”

“Sex isn’t something shameful, Remus,” Patton says patiently—and wow, isn’t that a surprise— “I promise.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “I know that, it just makes me want to rip all of my skin off and start over.”

“Why?”

“It’s bad enough I have to live in this meat sack,” he grouses, flopping back down and eliciting a soft ‘oof’ from Roman, “don’t need to be consciously reminded of it.”

“...‘meat sack?’”

“Oh, sorry, Lolo, ‘flexible container of mostly water.’”

“That’s not—well, yes, I suppose that is more accurate,” Logan says as he adjusts his tie, “but why would you choose to refer to your body as a meat sack?”

Remus shrugs. “’S not like I’d choose to be in this fucking thing. Evolution fucked up when it made us this way, at least we aren’t fucking horses. Oh, hey—“

“No,” Roman interrupts, “no jokes about that.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Remus?”

“What do you want, Snake-Face?”

“Are you…uncomfortable with your body?”

“Every day! It’s awful! I wish I didn’t have one!” At Janus’s muffled noise of heartbreak, Remus cranes his neck to look up at him. “Oh, relax, I’m fine, discomfort is part of my existence.”

“But it shouldn’t have to be.”

Remus huffs a sigh when he realizes that everyone else is looking at him with a similar amount of concern. Well, except Roman, but Roman gets it so that makes sense.

“I may or may not be being slightly dramatic, I am fine.”

“Can confirm,” Roman hums lazily, “comes with the Creativity gig.”

“Look, I just don’t like that it’s—it’s—“ Remus’s gaze lands on Patton— “look, Cookie Monster over there is allergic to cats, right?”

Logan frowns, glancing back and forth between them. “Yes, what does—“

“He’s not gonna die from it and he can still be around them, he’s just hyperaware of when there are cats and he can’t spend a lot of time around them without being really uncomfortable, right?”

Logan blinks in surprise. “Yes, I understand what you’re saying. Very clever analogy.”

“I am Creativity, you nitwit.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Of course.”

“So,” Virgil says cautiously, waving a hand at him, “you’re…good?”

“Yep. Goody-goody gumdrops, that’s me.”

“As long as you never say that again, fine.”

Roman gives him a hug. “I’m proud of you, Re, coming out is hard. Especially when you have to give people a vocabulary lesson when you do it.”

“Thanks, Ro-Bro.” Remus’s grin widens. “Does that mean I get to pick the movie for tonight?”

“What? No! It’s my pick! Hey! Hey!” Roman squeals as Remus starts to poke his belly. “Don’t! Dohohon’t!”

“Let me pick!”

“No!”

“Boys,” Janus sighs, reaching out and using his six arms to separate the twins, “that’s enough. Roman, what movie are we watching?”

“Pacific Rim.”

“Hey, wait, that’s what I was gonna pick!”

“See? There you go.”

Logan perks up immediately. “Does this mean we finally get to watch a movie with no romantic subplot?”

“And batshit physics.”

“We can overlook the batshit physics.”

“Whoa, L, what happened to you?”

“I…may have a greater appreciation for the cinematic depictions of the machinery.”

Patton just rolls his eyes and gets back to searching for the muffin pan. No movie night is complete without fresh baked goods. Ah, there it is, although he could’ve sworn he looked there a few moments ago…

Anyway, they end the conversation in the same place it started.

Remus is Remus, and that’s perfectly fine.

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ace #asexual #asexuality #sex-repulsed asexual

[littleeyesofpallas]

lost a big ol draft. fuck retyping that. fuck rethinking thoughts. not today... =___=

gist of things was this...

Tarot cards: Major arcana. scenes and characters on the cards are all their own symbols and archetypes, sure. but in sequence they're also a specific cycle of development. And they're even on pretty similar to the Hero's Cycle. Real basic take away is that if Hero's Journey is kinda clunky and you'd rather not have to tweak and edit it, you could just use Tarot cards. 21 is kind of a lot of steps though...

But there's a second level of this. The reason Tarot car dreadings work in the first place (if you're like me and don't actually believe int he whole divination process anyway) is that they're effectively just a very well developed system of randomized cold reading. (same with astrology but im not getting into that right now, maybe later) Because like Hero Joruney the major arcana aren't just a start-to-finish process, it's a cycle that loops back around to the start. And this is helped by the fact that the structure isn't being applied to a "story" it's being applied to you and your life. And we are all, always in this cycle, not just at a singular point in a singular iteration but in work, in play, in love, in family, in friendships, in communities, in society at large.... we are always able to place ourselves in some stage of development where there is a recognizable recent past, a WIP in the present, and a foreseeable future.

But it's not just a matter of taking a generic reading and fitting it into a personal narrative for the sake of racking up a false positive. The specific nature of tarot card readings as repeat, frequent, consultation has a directly psychological effect as therapy. By presenting the themes of the cards, all of which are applicable to all people at all times, the reader presents a singular focal point rather than a whole process. This centers the introspection of the person being read to on one subject at a time, and the distinct nature of a good reader also means prompting that self reflection rather than dictating it's meanings directly to the person. This along with the nature of readings as being prompted by specific questions or even broad subjects, means that the readings serve as a kind of arbitrary priority.

It's also an exercise in self mythologizing: an act of turning your own lived experience, with all its realistic randomness and meaninglessness, into a story you tell yourself and others, into a narrative. it both guides you into a process of development and resolution where there is none, while drawing out the actual development underway and again aiming it towards the desired conclusions.

And in one sense that is the function of the 21 stages as a whole, but no one is going to go about their lives constantly thinking of all the tarot cards and all their meanings and how those reflect on how to live their life, all the time... But if they get a reading every 2 weeks that gives them 3 or 5 cards at a time to focus on for the week ahead? That's an exercise in Mindfulness.

And Mindfulness is a vital facet of meditative practice, therapy, and neuro-elasticity and overall mental health exercises. In its most basic form, Mindfulness is just how "present," or readily accessible an idea is in your mind. It differs from Memory Recall or Memory Retention, because recall centers around conscious prompting, and of course memory can be retained without being easily recalled or without mindfulness.

When you lock your front door as you leave, and realize a few blocks away that you can't remember if you locked the door or no? You remembered to lock the door, but you weren't mindful of that act as you did it. Mindfulness is the anti-autopilot.

In another sense, it's like if your psyche was a narrow but deep pool of water, and as you think of certain things, they float to the surface such that when you look at the pool all you can see is what's on top, even if you know there's more underneath. Mindfulness is about managing that surface level space. And things like tarot readings, horoscope readings, and other ritual practice and fetish* totems are all tools and practices that exercise that Mindfulness aspect by funneling bigger ideas down into bite sized chunks spread across regular intervals.

*fetish as in the actual word "fetish" and not short for Sexual Fetish/Erotic Fetish. I'm also not about to get into a whole psychosexual complex dissertation right now...

Anyway, point being is that a fun way to work through some writers block? Or a snag in your plot? Do your character(s) or even your story as a whole a tarot reading. Doesn't even have to be a big formal reading, you can just take the 21 major arcana, pick 2 and ask yourself how floating those themes to the surface for the moment influences the story.

Also, I find this is a great way to work through being overwhelmed by the open-endedness of, say... running a tabletop RPG.

(There is also a whole cycle for the minor arcana you can look into as well, but I prefer working off the major in relation to the Hero's Journey just because it deals more overtly in archetypes rather than just abstract symbols.)

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 14: Love Keeps The Monsters From Our Door] [Series Finale]

A/N: Thank you for your encouragement, enthusiasm, laughter, rants, screeches of anguish, and unapologetic thirsting for “sexy undead Italian man” Joseph Francis Mazzello. I hope you love this conclusion more than Baby Swan loves pineapple pizza. 💜

Series Summary: Potentially a better love story than Twilight?

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield. (The #1 song I associate with this fic!)

Chapter Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 7.7k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk @rhapsodyrecs​

Mercy

We have to stay in the Vladivostok palace until her transformation is complete, and I hate it.

The floors are cold and sterile and every clang of noise ricochets off them like a bullet. The earth outside is stripped bare and hibernal. There is no green to interrupt the bleakness of the sky, the cruel absence of color: no spruces or hemlocks or bigleaf maples, no evergreen forests, no verdant fields, only a grey that bleeds from the sky in sheets of hail and driving rain. This land is a stranger. So many of the faces, too, are strangers, although they try. Honora sits with me—her large dark eyes, like mirrors of mine, polished and wet with aching pity—and braids my hair. Morana invites me to bake homemade bread with her. Austin tries to make me smile. Cato visits me as much as he can, because he feels responsible; or maybe he would do it anyway, maybe lessening suffering is as instinctual to him as bloodshed is to so many of our kind. And when Cato is with me, I do feel a little better, like my story might belong to somebody else, like it’s a name I can’t quite remember, like it’s a transitory moment of déjà vu I can catch glimpses of but never touch. And yet, still, I send him away.  

I don’t want to be with Cato. It’s painful for him to be around me, I can see that. It’s painful for Rami, and for Ben, and for Joe, and for Lucy and Scarlett. It’s even painful for the Irish Wolfhounds that Cato found locked up for safekeeping in Larkin’s study; they skulk around the palace vigilantly but leave great swaths of uninterrupted space around me like open water. So I conjure up a mask of brave, hopeful acceptance and wear it everywhere I go.

Joe says very little, never leaves the girl he calls Baby Swan’s side, dabs her scorching skin with washcloths soaked in ice water and murmurs in sympathy when she screams through the unconsciousness, from beneath the ocean of fire we all know so well. He nods off sometimes, snatching minutes of sleep like fireflies in a jar, before jolting awake to make sure her heart is still beating. When Ben isn’t checking on them, he’s with Cato, helping to draw up plans for the future, reminiscing about the past with slick eyes and clinking midnight glasses of whiskey. Scarlett sprawls across the desk in what was once Larkin’s study and spends hours on the phone with Archer as she gazes up at the ceiling, telling him how to care for the farm animals and the garden, reassuring him that we’ll be home soon, whispering things to him that I try not to hear; and I know she wouldn’t want me to anyway. Lucy weeps delicate, ceaseless tears as she perches on the staircase landing and Rami entombs her in his arms, never having to ask what she needs from him. And I wander meaninglessly through the echoing, unfamiliar hallways like a moon without a planet.

I know what they all think about me, perhaps even Rami, for I keep it buried as deep as all skeletons should be: that I’m irrevocably kind, effortlessly forgiving. That I’m as incapable of bitterness as I am of aging. But they’re wrong. It’s a choice, and it always has been, ever since a late-November dusk in 1864 when madness eclipsed mercy. Every day I choose whether to surrender to the beckoning, malignant hatred that lurks in the back of my bedroom closet, in the dusty and ill-lit loft of the barn roped with cobwebs, in the twilight tree line of the western hemlocks crawling with shadows that whisper through fanged teeth. Every day I decide whether to become a monster. And it has never been harder to remember why I don’t.

My future is unimaginable. The nights are endless. I feel black, razored seeds of what I am horrified must be bitterness burrowing beneath my skin and taking root there. I am consumed by infected, fruitless questions that I can’t silence: Why Gwilym? Why Arthur? Why Eliza and Charlotte? Why is it always fire?

The first words that Gwilym ever spoke to me, as I unraveled from unconsciousness under a grove of sycamore trees with smoke still clinging to my unscarred skin, rattle around in my skull like windchimes beneath thunderous skies. His voice was colored with an accent I couldn’t place, and yet it sounded like home: You’re in a dark place right now. But you don’t have to stay there.

That might have been true once. That might have been true in the ruinous autumn of 1864. But now I can’t find my way out.

Seventy-three hours after our arrival in this barren corner of the world, Charlie Swan’s daughter  wakes up as a vampire. Her heart is perfectly still, her skin faultless, her senses sharp, her mind as impenetrable as ever; at least, that’s what Lucy says when she finds me. And Lucy tugs at my hand, wearing her first smile in days, insisting that I have to come meet the newest member of our coven, to welcome her. I don’t know how to tell Lucy that I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to love this girl, that I don’t have it in me to love anyone but ghosts. And yet—compliantly, yieldingly, expecting nothing but disappointment in the monster I have become—I follow her.

The door is already open to the Swan girl’s room; chattering, beaming vampires flood in and out like the tides. I step inside. And I see the way that Joe looks at her, the way that Ben does; and all those seeds that I had feared might be bitterness blossom into nothing but open air.

It’s Not A Fucking Wedding (A.K.A. 13.5 Months Later)

The ocean is a universe. Its arms are not ever-expanding, spiraling galaxies of suns and planets and nebulae and black holes, this is true; its belly is not a vacuum of inhospitable oblivion, its bones are not invisible strings of gravity, its language is not a silence older than starlight, older than eternity. But the ocean is a universe nonetheless, its borders tucked neatly around the seven continents, slumbering there until the next hurricane or tsunami or ice age comes conquering; and inevitably equilibrium is restored—like defibrillator paddles to a heart, like naloxone to an addict’s blood—and our two worlds can coexist side by side once again.  

The ocean’s arms are sighing waves, bubbling and brisk, grasping and retreating in the same breath. Its belly is swollen with life from immense blue whales down to swarming clouds of single-celled, sun-hungry phytoplankton. Its language is ancient whispers; not parched and blistering and brittle sounds like the desert’s but cool, serene, supple, engulfing. And I can hear them all, if I listen closely enough. I can hear the sentient whistling of orcas, the breaking of waves against rocks, the scrabbling of sand crabs beneath the earth, the gruff distant barks of sea lions, the rustling of evergreen pine needles in the breeze. And I understand now why it was always so easy for vampires to be introspective, to lapse into thoughtful, unhurried silences. I could imagine spending decades just sitting here with my knees tucked to my chest and my hair whipping in the brackish wind, watching the seasons roll by like a wheel.

Joe was coming back from the gravel parking lot. I turned to watch him: red U Chicago hoodie, messy dark auburn-ish hair, a pizza box clasped in his hands. The GrubHub delivery driver was returning to his car with the toothiest of grins.

“Buon appetito!” Joe announced, dramatically presenting me with the pizza box. It had become our post-finals tradition each semester: pizza at La Push beach, half-pepperoni, half-pineapple.

“Grazie, sexy undead Italian man. Your accent is getting so good!”

“I know, right?! I’m on a twelve-day Duolingo streak. I can’t let that little green owl dude down.”

“I’m impressed, I’ll admit it. I gotta brush up on my Welsh. Why’s the GrubHub driver so cheery?”

“I tipped him $500.”

I smiled, opening the box and lifting out a semi-warm slice of pineapple pizza. Elastic strands of mozzarella cheese stretched like rubber bands until they snapped. “Aww, really?”

Joe plopped down onto the cool, damp sand beside me. “No. I lied. We’re actually having a torrid love affair.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “How could you possibly have time for all that?” Between school, business ventures, family activities, and me, Joe was very rarely unoccupied. And he preferred it that way.

“I’m so glad you asked. I’m very speedy, if you recall. And that’s just one of the exclusive services I offer. I am a man of many talents. I make people’s wildest dreams come true. Who am I to deny the GrubHub delivery man the wonderland that is my spindly, annoying body?”  

“You are the fastest,” I said, winking.

“Oh shut up! I mean, uh, uhhh, silenzio!” He pointed his slice of pepperoni pizza at me reproachfully. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not the fastest at everything.”

“Whatever you say, mob guy.”

He lunged for me, pinned me down in the crumbling sand, both of us laughing wildly as the crusts of our pizza slices bounded off and were snatched up by diving, screeching seagulls. He growled with mock savagery, braced his hips against mine, kissed his way from the corner of my jaw to my lips. That oh-so-familiar commanding, craving ache for him came roaring to the surface; and now there was no bittersweet edge to it, no inescapable backdrop of lambent numbers ticking down from five or ten or fifteen years to zero. Now there was only the calm, unurgent promise of forever.

“Joe—!”

“You have besmirched my honor, Baby Swan. I am left with no recourse but to refresh your clearly flawed memory and prove you wrong.”

“Public indecency? That’s illegal, sir.”

“Okay, you gotta stop stealing my catchphrases. It’s extremely difficult for me to come up with new ones. I’m almost a hundred years old, you know.”

“Alright, I guess you’re not bad in bed for a basically-centenarian.”

He smiled down at me, his dark eyes alight, the wind tearing through his hair, one palm resting on my forehead, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” I asked, worried.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just really glad we’re a thing.”

“You better be. You’re kind of stuck with me now. You’ve stolen my virtue, you’ve made me fall in love with your entire demented family, you’ve forced your torturous immortality upon me. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you ever stop funding my pineapple pizza addiction, of course.”

Joe chuckled as he climbed off me and took my hand in his, pulling me upright. “It’s absolutely ridiculous, by the way. Your insistence on being a sort-of vegetarian. It’s embarrassing. You’re the wimpiest vampire ever. You’re a disgrace to the coven.”

“I eat animals!” I objected.

“Yeah, when you have to.” And Joe was right: I steered clear of flesh outside of the two or three times a week when I hunted. For environmental sustainability reasons, I mostly consumed deer or rabbits; although the very occasional shark was my guilty pleasure. Joe gnawed on his second slice of pizza and peered out into the overcast, dusky horizon, wiping crumbs from his stubbled chin with the back of his hand. “We only have one more of these left,” he said at last, a little sadly. “One more finals season at Calawah University. One more celebratory dinner at La Push.”

“We’ll just have to get used to a new view. Pizza by the Chicago River, maybe.”

Joe looked over at me, thoughtful again, smiling. He had received his acceptance letter to the University of Chicago three weeks ago. I got mine eight days later. “It won’t be hard for you to leave Forks?”

“It will be. Once upon a time I didn’t think that was possible, but I will miss Forks. And not just because of Charlie and Archer and Jessica and Angela and all the Lees. But it was hard to leave Phoenix, and I’m sure one day it will be hard to leave Chicago. Just because change is hard doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.”

Joe nodded introspectively. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

“Don’t quote classic rock songs at me, mixtapes boy.”

“You love my mixtapes,” he teased, circling his left arm around my waist, pulling me in closer, touching his lips to my forehead. Mint and pine and starlight sank into my lungs like an anchor through the surf. “And that saying actually goes all the way back to Seneca, my dear.”

“Don’t tell me he’s still philosophizing in some cloudy corner of the world somewhere.”

“Not to my knowledge. Although that’s an intriguing thought. We need more famous vampires. Caligula would have made for very interesting conversation. Lincoln, Napoleon, Cleopatra, Shakespeare, Dante...I guess it’s possible that anyone is still around. Maybe we should turn Meat Loaf. You know, for the good of posterity.”

“Is it not enough that they’re already cursed with student debt and global warming?”

Joe cackled, took my face in his palms, kissed each of my cheeks one after the other, then nudged my nose with his. “You ready to go, Baby Swan? I suspect we’re expected to participate in some holiday festivities tonight.”

“I’m ready,” I agreed. We threw our leftover pizza to the seagulls, disposed of the grease-spotted cardboard box, and walked back to my 1999 Honda Accord with our pulseless hands intertwined.

The evergreen trees along Routh 110 fled by beneath a sky freckling with stars. Sharp winter air poured in through the open windows. And I could feel that it was cold, in the same way that I could feel the warmth on Forks’ rare sweltering days; but there was no discomfort that accompanied that knowledge. Pain only came when the sky was unincumbered by thick clouds churning in off the Pacific, and then it felt something like staring into the sun had as a human. Sunglasses helped, but the surest remedy was avoidance, was surrender. And what an inconsequential price to pay for forever.

“Wait,” I said, spying the mailbox that marked the start of the Lees’ driveway. “They still deliver mail on Christmas Eve, right?”

“Uh, I think so, why...?” And then he remembered. “Oh, yeah, let’s check!”

I pulled up beside the mailbox and Joe leaned out, returning to his seat with a mountain of Christmas cards and business correspondence and advertisements from Costco and Sephora. He sifted through them until he found a single white envelope from the University of Chicago Pritzker School of Medicine. It was addressed to a Mr. Benjamin August Hardy. Joe held it up to show me as we drove down the driveway, the Lee house coming into view and ornamented with a frankly excessive amount of multicolored string lights and inflatable reindeer.

“Oh my god!” I squealed, drumming the steering wheel.

“You want to be the one to give it to him?”

“Are you serious?! Yeah, can I?”

Joe passed the envelope to me as I parked my geriatric Honda, which Archer had pledged to keep alive as long as physically possible. In return, Ben let him and Scarlett borrow the Aston Martin Vantage no less than once a week. I dashed out of the car, up the steps of the front porch, and into the house that bubbled over with the sounds of metallic kitchen clashes and frenetic voices and Wham!’s Last Christmas.

“Ben?!” I shouted.

“Hi, honey!” Mercy called from the living room, where she and Lucy were putting the final touches on Scarlett’s gown. Scarlett was playing the part of semi-willing victim, wearing gold heels and an impatient smirk and her hair out of the way in a milkmaid braid; her train of vivid red lace billowed across the hardwood floor. From the couch, Archer and Rami were playing Mario Kart on the big-screen tv and nibbling their way through a tray of homemade gingerbread cookies.

“Oh wow,” I said, clutching the envelope to my chest, mesmerized. I kept waiting for Scarlett to start looking like a normal person to me, and it never happened. Tonight, in the glow of the flameless candles and kaleidoscopic Christmas lights and draped in lace the color of pomegranate seeds, she was Persephone: a goddess of resurrection, a face that death himself could not pass by unscathed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lucy. Seriously.”

“One day I’m going to get you out of those thrift shop sweaters,” Lucy threatened me, placing a pin in the fabric at Scarlett’s waist.

“Yeah, okay. Let me know when that shows up in one of your visions.”

“Bitch,” Lucy flung back, snickering, knowing how improbable that was. I still appeared in her visions extremely infrequently, and then only when I happened to be standing next to whoever the premonition was actually about.

“Language, dear,” Mercy tutted, inspecting the hem of Scarlett’s gown.

Joe arrived beside me, his arms still full of mail. “ScarJo, I almost didn’t recognize you! Why do you have, like, no cleavage or fishnets or thigh slits?”

“Why do you have like no eyelashes?” Scarlett replied. “See, I can ask unnecessary and invasive questions too.”

Joe frowned, wounded. “What’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“Lucy, darling, I think it’s just a tad uneven on this side,” Mercy said, showing her. “Maybe by half an inch...?”

“No, seriously, what’s wrong with my eyelashes?!”

Mercy replied distractedly: “Nothing, honey, you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Mom!” Joe groaned.

“It really is gorgeous,” Mercy marveled as Lucy flitted around her to investigate the hem situation. “And so Christmasy. So perfect for the season. Scarlett, dear, you were right after all, and I’m so sorry for doubting you. I’d just never heard of a red wedding dress before.”

“Mom, it’s not a fucking wedding!” Scarlett exclaimed, for probably the thirtieth time since Thanksgiving. “It’s a nonbinding, informal celebration of an egalitarian romantic partnership. Will somebody please inform this woman that it’s not a wedding?!”

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want, sweetheart,” Mercy conceded dreamily.

Joe pointed to Archer. “Isn’t he supposed to not see the dress until the day of or something?”

“What a great question!” Archer replied, still deeply invested in Mario Kart. “You see, that would be the case if this was a wedding. However, I’ve been informed in no uncertain terms that it is most definitely not.”

Scarlett grinned triumphantly at Joe. “There you have it.”

She might snap petulantly, and she might complain, but Scarlett wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t want to; we were all intimately familiar with the futility of trying to force Scarlett into anything. The not-wedding, as improbable as it seemed, had been her idea from the start. And she wasn’t doing it for herself. She wasn’t even doing it for Archer. Scarlett was doing it for her mother.

The first six months had been hell for Mercy. She didn’t resent me, as I had feared she might; Mercy made that clear, and Rami confirmed it. But she was gutted. She wouldn’t speak of Gwil, wouldn’t listen to us talk about him, locked every photograph of him away in dark drawers, wandered around with a remote, uncanny, unseeing smile until she walked straight into walls; and then she would blink inanely up at them, as if they had dropped out of the sky rather than been built by her own hands. She baked hundreds of cakes and almost never slept. She told us she was fine every time we asked, which was more or less constantly. But on the very rare occasions when she was left alone, Mercy would unfailingly end up in the field behind the Lee house, gazing out into the forest of western hemlock trees with tears snaking silently down her cheeks, the muted light of the cloud-covered setting sun flickering red and furious on her face like wildfire.

And then one afternoon, a package had arrived from Arviat, Canada, where Cato and the rest of the surviving Draghi had relocated shortly after the rebellion at Vladivostok. It was five feet tall and another three wide, and what we found after carefully peeling away all those layers of foam padding and packing tape was a portrait of Gwilym so skillfully painted that it could have been mistaken for a photograph. Mercy had stared at it for a long time—ignoring Lucy’s attempts to guide her away, deaf to any of our concerns—until she at last picked up the portrait herself and said, quite evenly: “I think we should hang it in the living room, don’t you?”

Things had been better since then—very, very gradually, and yet unmistakably—and Gwil’s portrait remained mounted above the living room couch like a watchman, his eyes sparkling and blue, his faint smile stoic and fond and omniscient. But even in the wake of Mercy’s continued improvement, none of us kids were about to risk another agonizingly despondent Christmas. So the solution was obvious. We would keep Mercy preoccupied with what thrilled her more than absolutely anything else: the pseudo-weddings of her children. Rami and Lucy had already secretly volunteered to go next year...and after that, who knew? And there was one other thing that was making Mercy’s burden a little lighter these days.

Charlie sauntered into the living room, wearing an apron covered in cartwheeling Santas and wiping white dust like snow—powdered sugar? flour? baking soda?—from his ungainly hands. He was palpably proud. “The sugar cookies are officially in the oven. And I managed to fit them all on one baking sheet, isn’t that great?! Cuts down on dishes!”

“Why, yes, I suppose it does!” Mercy said, alarm dawning in her eyes. Had my beloved father placed the globs of dough too close together? Would we end up with one hideous, giant monster-cookie? Only time would tell. Providentially, Archer and Joe could be counted on to eat just about anything.

Joe sniffed the air, his forehead crinkling. “What’s burning?”

“Nothing should be burning,” Mercy replied, almost defensive, forever protective of Charlie and all of his profound, incurably human imperfections. Sometimes I thought that she preferred him that way, that he was a link to a simpler world in the same way I had once been, that he was a puddle of memory she could drop into, that maybe he wasn’t so unlike her first husband Arthur. “Not yet, anyway. The cookies need at least ten to twelve minutes at 350.”

“Wait, 350?!” Charlie exclaimed, horrorstruck. “I thought you said 450!”

“Oh, this is tragic,” Scarlett said.  

“I can fix it!” Mercy trilled buoyantly, breezing off to the kitchen as Charlie followed after her with a fountain of apologies. She shushed them away affectionately, patting his chest with her soft plump hands, chuckling about how luckily they had fire extinguishers stowed away in almost every closet just in case. And there were other reasons for that besides Charlie’s perilous baking attempts, but he didn’t know them. Now the record player was belting out Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas.  

Archer lost another round in Mario Kart and exhaled a great, mournful sigh. “Hey, Baby Swanpire, can you do something about this guy?” He nodded to Rami. “This is criminal. It’s nowhere near a fair fight. He knows every freaking time I’m about to toss a banana peel.”

Rami smirked guiltily up at me from the couch, not bothering to deny it.

“Do you mind?” I asked him.

“Not at all,” Rami replied. “I want to show this loser I can beat him even without the benefit of mega-cool extrasensory superpowers.”

“Rude!” Archer cried.

“So rude,” Scarlett agreed, smiling.

“Okay, here we go.” I sat down beside Rami, still holding Ben’s envelope in my right hand, and laid my left against Rami’s cheek. And I felt a fistful of numbness—like instant peace, like milk-white Novocain—pass from my skin into his, rolling into his skull, deadening whatever telepathic livewires had been ignited there in the August of 1916. The effect would last anywhere from thirty minutes to a few hours; and it worked on every vampire I’d met so far.

“Whoa, trippy,” Rami murmured. “It’s still weird, every single time.” He peered drowsily around the room. “It’s...so...quiet?! You guys really live like this? No one is constantly bombarding you with sexual fantasies or romantic pining or depressive inner monologues? How do you function?! Now I’m alone with my own thoughts, that’s actually worse!”

“Hurry up and beat him while he’s all freaked out and vulnerable,” Scarlett told Archer.

Archer laughed, picking up his Nintendo 64 controller, radiant with the promise of vengeance. “Yes ma’am.”

“Any good mail?” Lucy asked Joe.

“Yeah. Coupons and a ton of Christmas cards from random people. The vet sent us one with alpacas on it, so that’s cute. Oh, and here’s one from our favorite Canadians.”

Joe held up the card so we could all see. The picture on the front showed Cato and Honora sitting on a large velvet, forest green couch with a hulking Christmas tree illuminated in the background. The others were arranged around them: Austin, Max, Ksenia, Charity, Araminta, Akari, Morana, Phelan, Aruna, Adair, Zora, Sahel, and a few new faces I couldn’t name yet. They were all wearing matching turtleneck sweaters. And every single one of them was smiling.

Joe cleared his throat theatrically and read the text on the inside of the card:

“Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

(Oh, and Scarlett, congratulations on your not-marriage.)

- Cato Douglass Freeman”

“That bastard,” Scarlett muttered.

Rami offered me his controller. He had just slipped on a banana peel and rocketed off a cliff. “You want a turn?”

“No, thanks though. I have to talk to Ben. Is he around?”

Rami shrugged ruefully. “I would help, but my brain is temporarily broken.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes, taking a gingerbread cookie from the tray and biting into it as Lucy batted crumbs from the red lace dress, exasperated. “I think he’s out in the hot tub.”

“Cool. I shall return.”

Joe took my spot on the couch as I departed, shoveling cookies into his mouth, seizing Rami’s controller and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

I opened the door to the back porch, and frigid December air rushed in like an uninvited guest. The field was coated with a thin layer of snow, the animals safe and warm in the barn, the garden slumbering. And in the spring and summer, when blossoms of a dozen different varieties came open beneath the drizzling grey skies, Mercy’s calla lilies didn’t bother my allergies at all. Nothing did anymore. Ben was indeed in the hot tub, puffing on his vape pen, wearing only a beanie hat and swim trunks.

“What flavor is that cartridge?” I asked as I approached. “Gummy bear?”

“Close. Strawberry doughnut.”

“Ohhhh, yum!” Ben passed me the vape pen, and I took a drag as I kicked off my boots and sat near him on the rim of the hot tub, slipping my bare feet beneath the steaming, roiling water. Then I handed his vape pen back. “So. Guess what I have for you.”

“Uh.” He glanced at the envelope. “Jury duty.”

“Better.”

“Someone I hate has jury duty.”

I flipped the envelope around so he could see the University of Chicago logo on the front.

“Oh god,” Ben moaned.

“Don’t you want to see what it says?”

“Not really,” he admitted, grimacing.

“Come on, Ben. Open it.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?!”

Ben sighed. “Look, if I open it and it’s bad news, it’s gonna make Christmas weird. Rami will know. They’ll all know. They’ll all feel bad for me and it’ll be pathetic and depressing and awkward. You can look if you want to, just don’t tell anyone else yet.”

“It’s not going to be bad news,” I said, tugging at the floppy top of his beanie hat. He swatted my hand away, but he was smiling grudgingly.

“You have positively no way of knowing that. Unless Lucy’s had a vision I’m unaware of.”

“She hasn’t. You know she never sees anything important.”

“She saw you coming,” Ben countered.

“She saw human-me and Joe in love and gobbling down pretzels at a Cubs game. So I’d say there were at least a few minor details missing.”

“There’s no way I got in,” Ben said, his green eyes slick and fearful and now fixed on the envelope. “We can’t all be geniuses like you.”

“That’s an unfair accusation. I’m far from genius. I’m just obsessed with the ocean.” I’d written my senior thesis on the feeding habits of Pacific angelsharks, and my advisor was still trying to figure out how I, an amateur scuba diver at best, had managed to get so many quality photographs with my underwater camera. The secret, of course, was superhuman agility and not needing to breathe.

“I fucking hate calculus. The MCAT wrecked me. I got a 517.”

“And their median score is a 519, so I’d say you still have a fighting chance. Plus you have like eight million volunteer hours.” Ben had spent the vast majority of the past year either in class or at the hospital. The psychiatrist-in-chief, Dr. Siegel, had been more than happy to take one of Gwil’s foster children under her wing. Every human in Forks except Archer believed that Dr. Gwilym Lee had drowned in a tragic boating accident while he and Mercy were on vacation in Southern California, and that his body had never been recovered. The town had held a wonderful remembrance ceremony and dedicated a free clinic at the hospital in his honor. “Now open it.”

“You do it,” Ben relented finally. “My hands are wet. Go ahead, open it up and tell me what it says. And then kindly euthanize me to end my immortal shame.”

“That wouldn’t work,” I pointed out, tearing open the envelope. I pulled out the tri-folded piece of paper inside, flattened it against my thighs, and read the typed black text.

“...Well?” Ben pressed, vaping frantically.

I looked up and smiled at him.

“No way,” he whispered.

“I hope you like pretzels and bear-themed baseball teams, grandpa.”

And for a second, I thought he might bolt up out of the hot tub, hooting victoriously, splashing water all over the back porch as he danced around bellowing that he’d gotten into one of the best medical schools in the world, that he would be following me and Joe to Chicago. But that wasn’t Ben. Instead, a slow smile rippled across his face: it was small, but perfectly genuine. Pure, even.

“Goddamn,” he said, watching me. Venom doesn’t just resurrect or ruin; it forms a bond that is simultaneously intangible and yet immense. It’s an evolutionary adaptation, a way to facilitate stability and the building of covens in an often violent and ruleless world. And now that he had turned me, Ben had family here in Forks in more ways than one.

“Gwil would be so proud of you, Ben.”

“I hope so. I really do.”

The back door of the house opened, and Joe stepped outside. He studied Ben for a moment, and that was all it took for him to know. “Benny!” he shouted, elated.

“I know, I know. Fortunately, I look amazing in red. Thanks, supermodel genes.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Joe said, sprinting over to wrap Ben—who was characteristically lukewarm on this whole physical displays of affection business—in a hug from just outside the hot tub. “We’re going to go furniture shopping, and eat deep-dish pizza, and find apartments right next to each other, and mail home Chicago-themed care packages, and get you hooked up with some gorgeous Italian woman...or whatever you like, I guess I shouldn’t assume. Women. Men. Gang members. Marine mammals. Jessicas. Whatever. There are options.”

Ben laughed as he playfully shoved Joe away. “Sounds like a plan, pagliaccio.”

“Oh my god, stop learning Italian without me! You realize you have to tell Mom now.”

“I will,” Ben agreed, with some trepidation. “I’ll wait until after Christmas.”

“It’ll be hard for her,” I said. “But she knows it’s what you want. She knows it’s what’s best for you. So she’ll get through it. I think it would be worse for her if you didn’t get in, if she had to see you unhappy.”

Ben nodded, exhaling strawberry-doughnut-flavored vapor, gazing up at the stars, Orion and Auriga and Lynx and Perseus reflected in his thoughtful jade eyes. “She’ll still have Rami and Lucy and Scarlett here with her. And Archer. And Charlie.”

“Especially Charlie,” Joe said, grinning.

Mercy would have to leave Forks eventually, of course. The Lees had already been here for nearly four years; they could stay another ten, perhaps fifteen at the absolute maximum. And there had been a time when ten or fifteen years seemed like quite a while to me, but now it felt like I could doze off one afternoon and wake up on the other side of it, like swimming a lap in the sun-drenched public pool back in Phoenix. We would find a new home somewhere after Joe and I finished our PhDs, after Ben finished medical school, maybe Vancouver or Buffalo or Amsterdam or Edinburgh or Dublin or Reykjavik. Wherever we went, I hoped it wouldn’t be far from the sea. But Mercy couldn’t bear to leave Forks yet. It was the last home she had shared with Gwil, the last house they would ever build together, and leaving it would make his loss all the more irrevocable. She would be ready to leave someday, but not today.

In the meantime, there would still be visits for breaks and holidays. Scarlett and Archer had the shop to keep them busy, a brand new eight-car garage that held a virtual monopoly on both the Forks and Quileute communities. Lucy had opened a bohemian-style clothing boutique downtown, which confounded most of the locals but attracted more adventurous customers from as far away as Seattle. Rami was interning for a local immigration lawyer and entertaining the possibility of applying to U Chicago’s law school in another few years. And Mercy had the farm; and she had Charlie. He had asked her for cooking lessons to try to help rouse her a few months after Gwil’s death, and it had grown from there. If it wasn’t romantic just yet, I believed it would be soon. And there were moments when I thought my father might have figured something out, when his eyes narrowed and lingered on me just a little too long, when his brow knitted into suspicious, searching lines, when the hairs rose on the back of his neck and some innate insight whispered that we weren’t like him and never could be again. But then he would chuckle, shake his head, and say: “You’ve gotten weird, my gorgeous, brilliant progeny. But Forks looks pretty good on you.”

“Can I talk to you upstairs?” Joe asked me suddenly; and did I see restless nerves flicker in his dark eyes? I thought I did.

“Sure,” I replied, climbing down from the hot tub. “Ben, are you coming inside? My dad is trying to bake Christmas cookies and failing miserably. It’s pretty hilarious. Not that you should be the one to critique other people’s kitchen-related accidents.”

“I do enjoy your company a lot more now that I don’t want to murder you and slurp you down like a Chick-fil-A milkshake,” Ben said. “Yeah, give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.” And as Joe and I headed into the house, I saw Ben pick up the acceptance letter that I’d left on the rim of the hot tub and read it for himself with incredulous eyes, grappling with the irrefutable fact that it was his name on the opening line, that he had somewhere along the way become the sort of man who dedicated his immortality to saving lives rather than ending them.

In the living room, Scarlett was back in her yoga pants and absolutely brutalizing Archer in Mario Kart. Rami and Lucy were entwined together on the loveseat, murmuring, giggling, feeding each other pieces of gingerbread cookies. In the kitchen, Charlie was leading Mercy in a clumsy waltz to Meat Loaf’s I’d Do Anything For Love, and each time he fumbled his steps or mortifyingly trod on her feet she would cry out in a peal of laughter brighter than the sun she had learned to live without. Joe spirited me up the staircase, into his bedroom—which, honestly, was more like our bedroom now, in the same way that my room in Charlie’s house had become Joe’s as well—and closed the door.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “Your dad totally ruined our song. Now I can’t hear it without thinking about some moustached guy in plaid trying to seduce my mom.”

“It’s the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for. Meat Loaf is vanquished. Oh, just so you’re aware, Renee and Paul are getting an Airbnb and coming up for New Years.”

“Cool. Do they still think I have a super embarrassing sunlight allergy and will break into hives and asphyxiate and that’s why we can’t visit them in Florida?”

“Yup.”

“Spectacular. Also, can you please tell me what’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“They’re just a little sparse, amore. But I still like you.”

“Well, I am only moderately attractive, you know.” Then Joe steeled himself, taking a deep breath. Uh oh. He was definitely nervous. I still couldn’t believe I had the power to make him that way, but here we were. “So I get that we’re doing presents with the whole family tomorrow morning, and you do have some under the tree, so don’t worry about that. But there’s one I wanted to give to you alone. You know. With just us. Without an audience. Or whatever.”

“...Okay...?” A secret gift? A naughty gift? “I hope it’s a new vibrator.”

“Shut up,” Joe begged, laughing. “Here.” He reached into the drawer of his nightstand—our nightstand—and produced a small blue box topped with a turquoise bow. It wasn’t a ring, I was sure of that; I didn’t feel especially attached to the idea of marriage, and neither did Joe to my knowledge. How could rings or papers seal commitment when you already had eternity? I was right: the mysterious present was not a ring. When I removed the lid and emptied the box into my palm, what appeared there was a small plastic airplane.

“What is this?” I asked, amused but puzzled.

“Are you not college educated? It’s a plane.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that. But it’s also like two inches long.” I scrutinized the plane. “Are you magically transforming me into a tiny, tiny, little plastic person? Is that my gift? Because I actually got you something good.” And I really did: there was a collection of vintage Chicago Cubs photographs from the 1910s and 20s downstairs under the Christmas tree, packaged in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer wrapping paper.

“We’re going on a trip,” Joe said, grinning. “The day after Christmas. It’s just a short trip, nothing huge, don’t get too excited, we’re not going to Mt. Everest or Antarctica or anything. I think you’ll still like it. But I don’t want you to know where we’re going until we’re there.”

“How will that work? Considering the tickets and signage and pilot announcements and obnoxiously noisy other passengers and all.”

“ScarJo’s going to fly us.”

“Really?!” We were taking the jet. We almost never used the jet. “What’s in it for Scarlett?”

“She found out that Archer’s never had In-N-Out Burger before and is very much looking forward to initiating him into the cult of deliciousness.”

“Oh nice. I could go for a vanilla milkshake myself, now that Ben mentioned them.”  

“Obviously I’m gonna buy you all the milkshakes and animal-style fries you want. Bankrupt me, bitch. But we have to get one other thing taken care of first.”

“So it’s somewhere they have In-N-Out Burger...” I pondered aloud. California? Texas? Las Vegas? I felt a brief but unambiguous pang of homesickness for Phoenix. But there was nothing there for me anymore.

“Stop,” Joe pleaded. “I’m sorry. I’ve already said too much. Please forget that. Get a traumatic brain injury or oxygen deprivation or something.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m rather indestructible at the moment.”

He smiled wistfully. “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”

There was laughter downstairs in the living room. I could detect the aroma of a fresh batch of sugar cookies baking in the kitchen, mingling with the cold night air and pine trees and peppermint candy canes. I loved Christmas. The entire world smelled like Joe. The U Chicago décor, classic rock posters, and Italian flag were now interspersed with National Geographic pages and photos of the two of us together. The Official Whatever You Want Pass hung in a small, square picture frame on the wall above Joe’s bed. Our bed.

“How real is it, Joe?” I asked quietly. I climbed onto my tiptoes, linking my hands around the back of his neck with the tiny plane still tucked between my fingers. “Seriously. The wishes thing.”

“The world may never know. Akari never met me as a human, so she wouldn’t be able to say. But if I had to place a bet...” He shrugged, grinning craftily. “Kinda real. Kinda not real. Just like vampires, I guess.”

“I am alarmingly glad that you’re real, mob guy,” I said, abruptly somber. “I never thought I’d meet someone who saw me as remarkable, who could make me see myself that way. And it’s miraculous. And it’s terrifying too, honestly. Being a thing with you. Falling for someone you could have for centuries and lose in a second.”

“It’s the scariest thing there is,” Joe concurred, taking my hand to lead me back downstairs.

Joseph

Scarlett looks like a goddess, and she knows it. But she’s not one of those magnanimous, fragile, harp-plucking, pastel-colored goddesses. She’s ferocity and wildness and crimson like blood, and that’s exactly why Archer loves her. And as they stand in front of the Christmas tree with their hands clasped together—ivory on bronze, snow on sun—with matching sprigs of holly in Scarlett’s hair and pinned to the jacket of Archer’s suit, reciting truths but no promises, I can’t help but watch the other faces in the room: Rami, Lucy, Ben, Charlie, Mom with her beaming smile and shining eyes, the woman I met sixteen months ago and now can’t fathom life without. And it occurs to me for the first time that love, in its cleanest form, isn’t something that changes people as much as it allows them to become who they truly are.

On the evening of December 26th, as soon as the sun dips beneath the western horizon, we board the jet in the Forks Airport hangar. It’s much easier for Scarlett to fly at night; otherwise she has to wear two or three pairs of sunglasses on top of each other, and even then it’s still painful, it still feels like blinding needles burrowing into the jelly of her retinas. That’s not a wrench in my plans or anything. It needs to be night where we’re going, too.

Vampire hyper-acuity notwithstanding, FAA regulations require Scarlett to have a copilot, so Archer joins her in the flight deck with his newly-minted license and spends most of the journey flipping through the latest issue of Motor Trend. As we begin our descent, he peeks back at us and teases: “It’ll be your turn eventually, guys. Scarlett and I did our time. Rami and Lucy can go next year. And after that...unless Ben happens to find someone worthy of a not-wedding...” He wiggles his black eyebrows.

“Bring it on,” I reply casually. “Fake wedding are my jam. It’ll be ocean themed. Or Roaring ‘20s themed. And we’ll all do the Cha-Cha Slide in the living room and shame Ben as a bonding activity.”

“Mercy can set up a mashed potatoes bar,” Baby Swan adds.

“Yeah. With pineapple.”

“No. Not on potatoes.”

“Yes on potatoes.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Too late,” I tell her, touching my lips to the knuckles of her cool, steady hand.

We touch down at a small noncommercial airport just outside the city, and Scarlett and Archer stay back to secure the plane as Baby Swan follows me outside. And she realizes where we are as soon as the wind hits her, as soon as her eyes soak up the sand and cacti and cloudless night sky like rain swallowed up by parched earth.

“Phoenix,” she whispers, smiling like a child.

“But wait, there’s more!” I announce in my best Billy Mays voice. I take the little glass bottle from my pocket, walk across the runway to the naked desert, crouch down when I find a suitable spot, and fill the bottle with dry, sandy earth that crumbles in my palms. Then I seal the bottle with a tiny cork and bring it back to give it to her.

“I know what it’s like to have to leave home,” I say. “You’ve had to say goodbye to Phoenix, and soon you’ll have to say goodbye to Forks, and next will be Chicago, on and on forever. You’ll always be leaving the places you learn to call home. Every five or ten or fifteen years, we start over again. Like a snake shedding its skin, like a hermit crab swapping shells. Like the water that travels from rain to seawater to mist and then back again. But now you can always have a little piece of home with you, and maybe that will make it easier.”

She takes the glass bottle and shakes her head in disbelief, in wonder. Because this is exactly what she wanted, what she needed, even if she didn’t know it yet. “Joe...how did you...?”

“What’d I tell ya? I’m a talented guy. Now you have to dance with me.”

She laughs. “Oh no. Hard pass. I don’t dance.”

“When we’re alone in my bedroom you do. So just pretend we’re alone now. In, like, a really really spacious, sandy bedroom. With probably some lizards.”

“Fine. But only because I’m willing to degrade myself for milkshakes.”

She slides the glass bottle of Arizona earth into her pocket and takes my hands. She’s still a pretty terrible dancer, honestly. She hasn’t lost that. And I love that about her. I love damn near everything about her. And it took me a long time to figure out what exactly her subtle yet peerless cocktail of fragrance is, because it wasn’t somewhere I’d ever been. The scent that drifts from her pores—the scent that now lives in my bedsheets like a shadow or a ghost—is sunlight and heat and clarity and resilience and wisdom older than the pyramids. Her scent is the desert.

Now she’s mischievous, her eyes gleaming with the reflections of the Milky Way and the full moon and the stars that are dead and yet eternal, just like us. “So what, you think you’re Vampire Boyfriend Of The Year material now or what? Some dirt and In-N-Out Burger? That’s the height of your game? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my perpetual existence? I totally should have pursued that polyamorous triad with Scarlett and Archer when I had the chance—”

“Yeah,” I say, very softly, smiling, tilting up her chin to kiss her beneath the universe and all its eccentricities. “I love you too.”

[talesoftextposts]

Exactly! Crestoria is not the only game they don't really keep tabs with. A while ago i played a saint seiya game by them and it had many many issues. If you cannot have multiple games with quality than please don't. Is bad for us and the employees, those poor people must be going crazy :c

At first I liked kasque, quite different than what I would expect from a goddess, but I ended disliking her...

I feel kinda bad for aegis just being a punching bag for jokes and Yuna just being there to look pretty, they have a lot of potential for the story. Like you said Yuna had a great point and a good reflection moment but whatever eh? Aegis too, I felt his story like a punch on the gut because I tend to be like him and the queen, but again, whatever...

I do the arena for the free stuff too! I am not competitive at all XD

hello again anon!! im going to do another readmore gksghkeg

yeah i honestly...ugh. i have just a lot of issues w bamco in general but i also Do Not want them to pay attention to me jic they tell me to stop making memes or something stupid like that— like genuinely instead of making the game more functional or adding like...idk. any story or shit that makes Sense they just added things like the transcendence board which is just. for ppl who already maxed out their ascension boards?? after like 6 months??? Y'ALL... ik for a while too the phantom tower was Waaayyy too difficult but i think they nerfed it back to normal considering i can now clear thru level 40 at least :/ but overall the game is just. geared towards ppl who drop fucktons of cash on it. if you look at the ppl in the top 3 in arena rn? you KNOW they've spent hundreds if not thousands of dollars on this game. what the fuck.

also minor gripes are just...they don't add very many new units anyway, compared to like even asteria, and i get that there's effort for the whole models or w/e but...i mean if rays can do it... and i don't mean that in the rate that banners are released, bc those are...kind of annoyingly often as of late (looking @ all the crestoria cast alts) but the fact they're only for 1 or 2 charas who are Only ssrs, and it genuinely makes r and sr stones and sr charas just...obsolete and useless imo? like i genuinely have EVERY sr AND r full awakened/ascended which. is probs partly due to the drop rates being Absolute Garbage, but thank god they implemented a pity system, right? ...right? [tired sigh] i've saved enough for julius who has been in crestoria for 228 days, bamco, fucking release h—

i also want to add that i've contacted support MULTIPLE times abt issues w the game and they have legit just told me "hm sucks have u tried playing the game w all other apps closed" like yes, bamco, but that's not the problem??

SORRY for several paragraph rant abt the gameplay i just have some very strong opinions LMAO

i understand not liking kasque! tales antags...and characters in general, actually, are rather hit or miss. i personally just love evil women so im rlly in love w her GSKEHGESKHG

but as for the aegis and yuna things... YEAH. i rlly love them both and it's been extremely disappointing to see how they've been treated by the story :( like even if yuna's acting silly to cover her own feelings, it would be nice to get those scenes we get in other tales games (like...idk even the scenes in xillia like where alvin and elize sit and talk in the park, and leia talks w i think jude or milla depending on the route?) considering it's like...is penelope going to be okay? can she ever go back to her?? is she okay just crossing the sea and leaving her, even if there's really no choice??? sorry for the character introspect i just have a lot of thoughts—

aegis too, it's like. i don't mind teasing to an extent, but i really feel sometimes they go too far w it :( esp in like. events and the character episodes moreso than the main story (tho i could be remembering incorrectly) which makes me wonder if they just have different writers for each but even THEN like the main story still fails to act like yuna and aegis Exist half the time?? and JEEZ yeah i am constantly thinking abt aegis and queen rebecca, esp imo it's just a very... well first of all, that has to be Traumatizing As Hell but second of all i strongly headcanon he was unable to say it bc he didn't mean it and also i have a headcanon that the whole event has kept him from ever saying the words "i love you" ever again so that's that on THAT. (these are my headcanons pls don't send me hate over them they're not canon i promise—)

and honestly same!! i used to be sss rank and then i stopped caring abt arena for a bit and dropped a couple ranks...oops. i'm currently s-5 and had to FIGHT to keep myself there this season. it's not that i rlly care abt winning or being high ranking. or first, even, i just want the prizes from being at a certain rank/placing tbh. which is why.....................................oh im so tired of the ppl with lvl 120 fully awakened new ass units like i GET IT you have MONEY but i am not spending that much on a mobile game!!

ANYWAY thank u for coming to my ted talk omfg im so sorry this is so long (again)

#mod.txt #SSSSSSSSORRYYYYYYY #if u disagree w me pls don't yell at me im sensitive— #these are just my onions i pr #anyway i again apologize for a v long post where i just. bitch abt crestoria ig that's my life now

[penzyroamin]

Is the style of fics you write the same as the style of fics you read? How are they similar? How are they different? Are there things you like in other people’s writing that you want to try to incorporate into your own writing? Are there things you like in other people’s writing that you do not want to incorporate into your own writing?

oh, this is INTERESTING.

i think the content is more similar than the style-- i really like reading and writing things that are very focused on the characters and their growth and relationships rather than a big plot. i think the style of what i read vs. what i write varies a lot-- for example, i really focus on moments of introspection while @landlessbud and @thefactsofthematter orient their writing around atmosphere and dialogue, respectively. even in the simplest terms of the way we write and arrange words it varies-- kath's tone is a lot more humorous and her writing is very much based in internal monologues-- you get all these delightful clever quips and jokes. bud's is sort of split between an external pov and the internal monologues of their characters, and their humor is a lot more tongue-in-cheek and based in irony. @weisenbachfelded has a really cool way of developing emotion through internal monologues and creating humor through dialogue and situations that i think is a cool reversal of the way some of us write comedy! this might sound weird but i dont just randomly read fic, usually it's either recommended to me by a friend or written by a friend, so looking at their styles is really fun for me because i love them!! and they're so talented!! fuck.

also a side note-- i think it's really neat that i can see people's interests in their writing!! @benafee (hey, that's you!) and bud's interests in academia and different historical settings leads to really rich atmospheres and plots for period pieces/historical aus. ella likes painting and visual art, and she creates really beautiful color symbolism, imagery, and connections to art

some things in their writing i try to emulate-- bud's descriptions and atmosphere. FUCK. the scene from the substitute where jack first goes to sarah and kath's place lives in my head rent free. mj's kiss scenes. i am not at all ashamed to admit that they KNOW how fucking good they are at writing kisses. jfc. also, in general, mj builds tension and will-they-wont-they situations really well and it's something i really try to draw from. @thetruthabouttheboy / @querxes creates the most IMPECCABLE goddamn tone i swear to god. specifically the way madi writes small-town settings has such a distinct feel to it and ill never recover from it. @livingchancy just... ugh. queen. ella ily. she so wonderfully develops themes and motifs and symbols to the point that i feel like im reading an actual novel. specific shoutout to the pure fury that washed through me when i realized that jekyll from blue moon was a symbol for daveys willingness to be vulnerable and open w jack and luna and i immediately texted her like JEKYLL??? IS DAVEY???? and she laughed at me for an hour.

things that i love that i dont necessarily want to emulate: madi and @ren-sauce 's horrifying ability to write engaging, violent action. it's so well written but i cannot write violence it kills me. special shoutout to the super-fast, intense variety of violence that czernobog channels and the insane ability ren has to make insanely gross zombie violence hilarious at the same time.

anyways,,,, my friends are talented and i love them a lot. all of their writing is super engaging in different ways and i love that!!! truly do not know why they tolerate me xx

#im not gonna tag all my friends on this bc. i talked abt yall so damn much #about writing #friends tag #there we go. #thank u for this question i loved thinking abt it!!! #asks

[umbillicalnoose]

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

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

[deniigi]

also sorry so tuesday again you write a TON and i know youve answered something like this but like whats your planning system for writing stuff?? ive been writing in a notebook for like an hour planning but idk if writing a ton of sentences and words that are mostly questions and sentences like 'lots of food including @ work' and like, mini schedules for what time things happen is useful? im explaining this bad but uh??? just if you have the time and tips or anything? dcsjthankshaveagreatweek!!!

Hey Tues!!

So yeah, I did discuss a little about my kind of arbitrary planning practices here in this post but in terms of like, the nitty gritty, I haven’t really discussed too much because everyone’s kind of got their own process.

So for me, about 80% of the time, I’ll just sit back and let the work go where it will. I don’t do much planning at all. But when it come to sustained fics, I do do some pretty extensive planning.

But let me be clear here, when I say “extensive planning” I’m talking no more than 1 page of general notes per chapter.

In terms of what goes in that plan, like, it depends on your piece, but in general, for me, every piece you write starts with two questions: where you are in terms of narrative? And what is the main goal for this piece?

Really, the big question you’re asking when you go into a piece is, ‘Where do I need to end up?’, but that can be hard to know before you start writing, so I prefer to think of this is terms of the two questions.

–

So, like, here’s an example of what that floating ethereal bullshit actually looks like (we’ll use a maybe-the-next-chapter from Sidebars as an example so you’ve got something concrete to look at):

So first thing’s first!

1. Where are we?

First, in terms of the larger story. Are we halfway through? Are we still at the beginning? Do we still need to introduce characters? Do we still have plot points we need to hit to establish a relationship or motive or enemy?

Right now, in sidebars when I ask myself this question, I can say, okay. I’m about 3/4s of the way through this story and I am done introducing characters. I’ve established Peter’s relationship with Sam and resolved that mini arc. I’ve established MJ’s relationship with the Acadec kids. I’ve finally FINALLY written the wedding scene, so that leaves me with probably 3-4 chapters to cap off Peter’s Chicago mob situation, to get the Acadec kids to Nationals, and to come up with some kind of ending.

That’s where I am.

So if you’re writing a one-shot, this is going to look different. For example, you need to decide where in their lives your characters are. Where are they physically/geographically? What are they doing in this moment?

(ie. for say, team red, you can say, smth like ‘well, they just met and are trying to feel each other out.’ or ‘This is right after Matt came back from midtown, and Peter and Wade have just started to move on with their lives after his ‘death.’‘–that kind of thing is a good place to start with a one shot)

Once you know where you are, you can start to figure out where you’re going. And that’s when you move on to question two!

2. What is the goal of this piece?

I personally try to pick one main goal and around that, I’ll often have a handful of subgoals going on on top of that big guy.

For example, in sidebars this next chapter must resolve the mob situation. That is the main goal of that chapter.

–

Now, at this point, now that I know where I am and what my main goal is, I can start to draft and weave in the subgoals.

So here’s what that looks like in terms of drafting:

1. Wedding is done. Peter now has time to deal with the mob. Peter needs to gather his team so that they can tag into Chicago to take their turn in the fray. 

2. The problem here is that he is juggling two things at once: he’s got to go deal with the mob, but he and Miles are also due to be in Washington DC for Acadec Nationals in a matter of days.

3. Peter is disaster-prone, which means that something needs to go to shit in one of these areas.

Once you get to this stage, you can start tossing in details and timelines, but until you have these guys worked out, all those little details are great, but not especially helpful in establishing a larger narrative. And straight up? They might even be holding you back at this stage.

For example, in the above example, I really want Peter to ride a motorcycle, so I’m gonna cling to that in my head and I can maybe make a note of that in my planning, but I’m not going to fuck with it quite yet. Instead, I’m going to break my two big plot points down.

That could look like this:

1. Wedding is done. Peter now has time to deal with the mob. Peter needs to gather his team so that they can tag into Chicago to take their turn in the fray.

Peter’s TR has 2 times to meet other Team Reds in Chicago.They meet Gwen and Agave first. This goes awkwardly. These two make Peter reflect on his own time with the Gwen Stacy from his verse.

Shit’s awkward af.

Wade likes Agave. Agave flirts with Wade.

Shit remains awkward af.

After this, Peter and Miles have to scram for Acadec.

(end scene)

At this point, I usually throw in an in-between scene as a transition, just so I know how we are getting where we’re going. So I’d say something like:

The next morning, Peter and MJ nearly miss the bus to Washington DC. It works out somehow that the Brooklyn kids end up sharing a bus with the Midtown kids.

Peter and Flash are brought back together.

The tension is unbearable.

Shit gets real.

And now we have worked our way to main plot point 2. Plot point two is broken down similarly,  and then lo and behold! You’ve planned your chapter!!

You may now start the fun, exciting part of writing the piece. And it is here where you start filling in all the spaces in between those works to bring out textures and characterizations and funny bits, sad bits, introspective bits, world building, etc, etc.

Anyways, Idk if that’s helped you at all Tues. I suppose the main thing I’m trying to say here is that when you’re planning a piece, maybe try staying as big picture and broad as possible. Try to avoid too much detail until you’re actually writing the piece (unless you’ve got a very particular/important detail in mind–in which case, note it on the side, but not in the body of the planning draft) and that might help you a little in terms of shortening the planning process.

#fic #inimitable verse #I do write a lot but i am kind of paid to write in my other life and also it has given me proto-carpal tunnel so be not intimidated #lol #writing advice #does anyone use a different process here? #it's always interesting to know whether folks dive right in or do planning first #team red #(and potentially sidebars spoilers #we shall see we shall see

[squiddoodle]

@lezzyharpy.....you blocked me but i’m going to reply cause your apprently 26..... And I can’t not address this cause fuck my brain.

-good fucking g-d how the fuck do you take “you cant claime to defend us while simultaneously mocking our beliefs” as a challenge. how are you misreading shit this badly - um well that’s not all of what you said. Like i’ve never heard an atheist say religious beliefs are children’s stories but I have heard them say they are fiction, comforting stories, fairytales/ myths... but anyone who thinks all religous stories are kiddish....really lets their kids read some violent stuff. And you claim believing that makes us antisemitic. Your saying not agreeing with you and thinking what your doing is a waste of time so personally want none of it , and not just you but all religion but “you do you” is insulting and mocking you!? You’re claiming that is being antisemic. There’s a huge diffrance between “ fine soccer a boring, pointless waste of my time and I have no interest in it and this is why but I can see you enjoy it and get fafillment out of it so go ahead i’ll cheer for you and be happy for you” vs “I hate everyone who plays soccer I think their the devil and we should ban soccer and beat up soccer fans. I think soccer is a illness. I think they are disgusting and not like us/ i’m going to sit back and let other people say and do that to soccer and soccer fans.” Also your acting like we think we’re better than you because we don’t belive in it.....largely....no... we are just AWARE we have unprovable things we like to belive that make us feel better and we know we could be wrong about everything we think we know, we are open to being proven wrong on facts and scientific proof would prove us wrong ..... that is litrally the soul diffrances. I don’t judge all my religious friends just one ones who think they are better than everyone else and are “at war” with everyone not as ““Enlighten as them” because of that religion. Your mocking atheist for acting like “Ohwiseones” and yet when I was religious and not the most mockly self righteous people I’ve known have all been religious. You mock us for acting like the  “o wise one Knowing better” and yet that is the bases of every damn religion! “you are the chosen none dilousional ones god has taught better than silly unbelieving fools” ....and you are litrally talking to me like your all knowing and i’m dumb filth....

( for the record what was acturlly said v)

- if we ask that you not mock our beliefs that is not….. even remotely the same thing as saying you must have the same beliefs as us-

  right it shouldn’t be but your making out it is. because apprently unless we act like you know better than us or likely that myth is equal to fact or agree that spending endless hour of your time and most your thought process worshipping a god that no one can prove exist and belive that this one specific book is full of wisdom truth and sense and agree that his rules are good and he is good you know just cause “he” says so in his book , unless we agree that that sounds like a good use of anyone’s time, and is the healthiest way to deal with life and nothing bad ever comes from it and none of it is asking you to belive some really bizarre unproven things and think that there couldn’t possibly be another way, or we’re just not honest about it and never express our view point ever about anything religious, then we’re antisemites ......that’s how the logic your putting here comes across.

-how are you this fucking dense -   ... litrally insulting me...  but ok: Or maybe apprently you don’t know what you’re implying?

are you really gonna ask how you were insulting while you compared us to dogs? - 

.......ok first off you know that’s a well known saying/metaphor right? If I said “you’re look a gift horse in the mouth” you haven’t litrally done that ether and your gift is not litrally a horse or being compared to one. Second I “compared” us both to dogs...and i’m not a Jew....I was also a dog in that situation!  ....or at least that’s how I was picturing it: one dog barking up the tree the other laying in the grass chilling watching out....a metaphor is not me acturlly saying we are dogs🤦‍♀️.....do you not understand sayings? ok without the saying, what I was saying is: from where I am stood I think your using a lot of time on effort on somthing that’s not real and to me it seems a bit silly but i respect that it makes sense to you, so long as no one really gets hurt, I’m not going to judge you or stop you, i’m just going to mind my own business but be ready to go after anyone who does judge you or try to stop you......so yeah that really wasn’t a insult but apprently you want to stretch for them so...

 - and yea i brought up jews specifically cuz im jewish you dipshit, and as for your “oh woe is me how could i have possibly known”…

your reading comprehension is fucking pathetic- 

ok first off  again the only one throwing insults here is you, the only one calling an actual person names is again you. The only one not trying to understand the other persons point of view or why they said somthing is you. Second you listed “Jews, Muslims and minority faiths” and then use “our”..... grammatically that means yeah you’re likely at least one of those, but it doesn’t specify which. Also I wasn’t ...“woe is me”...ing... i really don’t know where you got that level of drama and victim playing from. I just didn’t want to assume, I had figured you probally where Jew but you could just be a Muslim who cared more about Jews them themselves, or another majority faith, 🤷‍♀️ Hell you could even be a troll pretending to be a Jew, I litrally don’t know you  so I have no idea who you really are and have to take your word on stuff just like you do me. And you didn’t fully clarify so I didn’t just assume. And all i’m saying is funny how quickly your dropped your “defence” of Muslims and other faiths and how your not answering my questions about how you view other faiths and beliefs.

-take a fucking step back, reread the original post, and consider what it is about a jew asking that people not mock our beliefs while claiming to support us that made you feel so fucking targeted, and while youre at it, question why you think a call to not mock our beliefs is a call that everyone must hold our beliefs. if you wanna talk about projection youve got some serious fucking introspection to do first- 

here’s the thing, it wasn’t that part, alone, as you are declaring it now.  Cause by the rest of what you said i’m pretty sure your not talking about things like insulting charactures and stereotyping of Jews right? Your not talking about someone crashing a religous ceremony or mocking it, or laughing at /ripping off your religious clothing ,or Phyically trashing your book ,or visiting your temple and violating the rules or yelling their own views and how stupid everything is during the sermon, or telling you Jews are demons (or somthing not human and insulting) ,or Acturlly picking on you for being a Jew or any stuff like that? Cause yeah ok those are mocking and insulting, gross and deeply disrespectful,. That would be a horrific way to treat you and I’m not defending any of that, I would want to punch anyone who did those or alike to you. Heck I would even defend you if someone outwardly called you dumb just for believing in the possibly of a god because who fucking knows, nothing in life is 100% certain other than we here and we’ll die.

 But that’s not on the lines of the exarmples you have, which to me seem very dramatised and exsadrated anyway. But by the rest of what you said i’m betting you’re talking about people saying stuff like “ i’m not gonna lie I think it’s kind of daft that you think snakes could litrally talk but if that’s what you want to do ok” or “ok I think it’s kind of silly to waste your life trying to please someone you don’t even really know is there but it’s your life” and “ you know there’s a good chance you only belive what you do cause you where brought up to” ...and those aren’t mocking you they’re disagreeing with you and expressing a diffrent point of view. They might be hard to hear but that doesn’t make them insults, it doesn’t mean that person thinks less of you! over all i, and i’m pretty sure most on the left, would never really mock you only express our own point of view of things, we might mock and insult you back if you first mock us or try to convert us and won’t take our no and reasoning for an answer, cause your being really fucking rude then. But if you say your going to the temple most of us we’ll say” ok have a nice time” and mean it!  if you say you need to pray about somthing we’ll say “ok cool go ahead” and mean it!( though some might Be uncomfortable depending on context Ei if your just going to pray away cancer and not get treated),  if you ask us if you can pray for us or somthing most of us will be cool with that but we’ll be honest about how we view religion too and we’re not going to agree that everything in your religion is wise, super healthy and sensible, we not going to lie and tell you we think any of it is true . We don’t think religions are true, at best to us it is a heavily myth based self written history you want to belive in, but if it brings you a sense of fulfilment then we won’t judge you we’ll support your right to belive and practise that because we all have our things like that; so please tell me what is insulting, mocking and wrong with that?! Religous people often belive i’m ether a demon tricked fool or some rebelling monster who wants to sin and deny god so I can wallow in my evilness.....now those are pretty insulting, but when religous people just think what I belive is dumb and wrong 🤷‍♀️ Cool we deeply disagree but ok. It’s not insulting, sure I might agrue why I have that view ,but they just don’t agree on my view of things. and if you find that insulting or mocking then logically you just have a problem with anyone who doesn’t 100% agree with you 

-but you can do that introspection on your own, im not in the mood to continuously coddle you assholes while you stumble fecklessly through learning basic decency, so learn that shit behind a block- again the only one throwing insults or being “undecent” to anyone is you. The only one belittling here is you. And blocking helps nothing but ok i’m still going to write this reply cause your sense of logic bugs the crap out of me. Have fun thinking anyone who dosen’t think religion is truthful and pumped with wisdom is antisemic .....I really hope you get my point some day though cause thinking that way can’t feel good. i have litrally 0 hate or hosititly towards you,or any Jews for being active Jews, or your faith or your right to practise it in any land, so on, and that goes for all religions. but you can keep being mad at me cause you think people who think organised religions are largely a scam,or the old books are more myth than fact,  hates you or thinks less of you and has a problem with you or your faith existing .....really don’t but 🤷‍♀️ i’ll still help you stand for your rights against those who acturlly do hate you and are hostile towards you and your right to faith. 

[sunnycityshadypeople]

Defining Heartbreak: The Friendzone

I felt like writing and I guess could be a place to put it as it’s my only social media account where I have a bit more anonymity.    I feel hung over as fuck today, but noticed when I was articulating some deeper thoughts with someone that instantly felt better - so here goes with a story not of woe is me, but of the discovery I made about myself  Unrequited love over the years has reared it’s head a couple times.    In my early twenties, a guy I met online on Gaydar (is that site still a thing) - became a friend. I was actually his first gay friend and we hung out a lot.  We both went ot the same university and had one class that we both had in common - despite studying different degrees.   I thought he was super cute, intelligent and a catch - he had a certain confident swagger about him. Nothing sexual ever happened between us.   He then went overseas to live in France for a year - studying at the same university that the recently departed Kofi Annan.   Fast forward a year and over that time of missing him, I realised I had feelings for him and the cliche of distance only making the heart grow fonder certainly rung true.   When he finally returned to Australia, I was so happy to see him and a bunch of us hit the town together. A friend brought his rather cute pal along and joined me and my crush on a night out.   As it turns out, my friend’s cute pal ended up hooking up with my crush.  In a tree. IN A FUCKING TREE.  

I was crushed.      Like *spoiler alert* Captain America watching his best mate Bucky die or Tony Stark seeing a fading spiderman begging him not to go.   Yeah I was in my early 20s but it was defining moment of heartbreak. 

I dont remember how long after but I was moping around at my brother’s place and my sister was there.  She saw me dejected and withdrawn, asking me ‘what’s wrong?’ - I left out the front door and sat on the balcony and ugly cried.   And not the ugly crying I did when KFC stopped selling hot and spicy chicken, this was far far worse.  And a defining moment of heartbreak.  Sidebar:  I’ve always been a bit of a philosphical existentialist - mainly due to the the movie ‘The Matrix’.  The nature of reality fascinates me.    When I was 18, the philosphical book ‘The Celestine Prophecy’ came into my life... I actually ‘found’ the book on the street (I kid you not!) and it changed my life and the way I think abnd that’s where the true existentialist in me had an awakening. anyways. I’ve always been an introspective soul -- something perhaps most people I know don’t realise.  The cyclic nature of life (ok picture me holding my laptop up ala the Lion King pose as we sing the Circle of Life) - means that sometimes it feels like things repeat themselves.  I sometimes forget about the lessons that we need to learn and of course it came from another defining moment of heartbreak - this time in my mid 30′s.  I’d started chatting to this guy on a dating app mid 2016.    I thought he was super cute, intelligent and a catch - he had a certain confident swagger about him.   Feeling a sense of De ja vu?  No,it’s not a glitch in the matrix.    I tend to have a long lead time before I meet anyone online (I’m sure there’s a basis of fear of rejection in there but really are you that surprise after hearing that fucking sob story before!?) Anyways, we ran into each other at the gym and that was the first time we met.  We hung out a few times, and certainly these felt like dates.  We had a lot in common (and a lot in difference too), laughed alot and he was probably the first guy in a long time I met whose personality I loved.    He was witty at time cutting, his text game was super strong - but I’d usually own him face to face.   We’d spend our days jibing at each other trying to insult each other with memes (because Memes are life, right!?).  One time I was chatting to him via text -  describing a guy I used to like and how this dude and I had a lot common, was super nice... he replied to me ‘Kinda like us really?’  AND WHOA hold up this could be a romantasiced re-telling of my overthinking interpretation of a message - but that was sliding doors moment that would lead me to my next defining heartbreak.     I should have taken the bait.  But I was scared.  My absolute fear of rejection was scared to just tell this dude I like him - even if I was misconstrued in that message.    I do prefer voice messages over text because tone is a hard mother fucker to judge - thank god for emojis and ifs but still - just press that record button on whatsapp (He didnt’ like voice messages as he thought they were lazy) whereas I like to really convey my meaning.

Unless that meaning is ‘cue Madonna’ “IM CRAAAAZY FOR YOU TOUCH ME ONCE and you’ll know it’s truuuuue I never wanted anyone like this it’s all brand new... you’ll feel it in my kiss, you’ll feel it in my touch because I’m crazy for you - touch me once and you’ll know its’ true’

Anyways sorry about that Australian Idol gone Karaoke wrong moment. If you’ve fallen asleep reading this, you can thank me for the cure to insomnia later.  Ok, cut to the chase Jimbo - fast forward a year and half of being friends with someone you secretly love.  I use the term’ secretly’ loosely - because OMG was I just coming across as the love sick despo girl - random presents in his mailbox, being the nicest most supportive, generous friend - because hey, maybe he’ll come around if I kill him with kindness.  There’s an excellent article on being in the friendzone you should read by the way - I’ll talk about that later. I’m not going to go into details out of respect for this guy, but I knew inherently and the truth of the matter was no matter what I did or who I was - he was still on his Rupaul ‘can’t love nobody unless you love yourself’ journey.   So the harsh reality, and the ‘hes just not that into you’ vibes as espoused by Oprah back in the day meant this defining heartbreak was a bit different to the first.   I knew it was too far into the friendzone (never say never, but yeah let’s be real).. if it’s in the friendzone, they have to give you something that’ll finally get you into the endzone.  Anyways, I’d do anything for this guy.  Despite actually rationally speaking he didn’t tick some major core values for me.  It’s funny how attraction works.   A close friend who is a counsellor told me about ‘attachment styles’ (look it up, I wont digress more than I already have) - but essentially I was a major victim (of my own doing, because people don’t cause us to feel - we cause us to feel - think about that for a sec).. I was a major victim of treat em mean keep em keen. And I kept coming back for more.   I even tried weening myself off him by disengaging and that was great, but then we re-engaged. His was of re-engaging was sending me a message that said ‘Welfare Check’.  If it was me, I’d be like ‘Hey dude, I miss you! whats up!?’  The last time we saw each other was almost 2 months ago - nothing dramatic went down, but after not seeing the guy for a few weeks - he could only afford me about 40 minutes of his time.    It was a pleasant catch up but neither of us have communicated since.   He’s stubborn and I’m stubborn too.  But ulimately, it’s not healthy for me to love someone who doesn’t know what to do with my love.   And I look back at my own behaviour and do a major eyeroll because I really should save that stuff for someone who likes me back. That article I mentioned above - which I’ll post the link to - had a very simple suggestion and rule to avoid unrequited love and being in the friendzone. Only like somone who likes you back. OH MY FUCKING GOD REGINA YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME THAT A YEAR AND A HALF AGO! Anyways, I’ve had some amazing dates and met a couple awesome guys (there’s still a them of them not living in the same city as me but hey I can deal with that for the moment). I have a lot of love in my life and the love I give  is welcomed and I’m not feeling like I’m being treated as an afterthought.  I emphasis ‘feeling’ because the truth is, I may not be an afterthought to him.   But actions do speak louder than words, and his inaction has spoken to me.   That’s cool.   My love will always be there.   But in defining heartbreak, I defined myself and thank you for reading this I’d like to thank the academy and you for being you. You are loved. 

[thedapperrabbit]

She-Ra Rewatch: season 3 and onwards through season 4, and boatloads of Introspection time!

So Ive been rewatching She-Ra with my partner, because sharing Entrapdak is caring. I could probably squee on about that for a century or more (because eeee, sharing things i love with people i love AND THEY EVEN PAY ATTENTION TO THE THINGS AND REMEMBER THEM!)...but ill spare you, kind internet strangers who for some reason find my thoughts mildly interesting enough to be reading this. This is going to be a lot. Like, a LOT. A lot especially from a stranger that youve probably only seen a notification from due to me sticking a heart on your content or for reblogging something lovely youve made in pictures or words. I dont think anything is going to be violently trigger-y because im not always great at judging that stuff and also ive yet to feel quite comfy enough to be  fully open-posting specifics about my own past trauma, other than a vague allusion to self-harm and distant-ish unspecified abuse aaaand the usual childhood garbage truck of assholes....but i suppose you could possibly draw some darker potential conclusions from the content im focused on. Also, my ADHD makes it incredibly hard to keep to a straight and non-branching narrative so...ramble-y bits and expressions of brain frustration ahoy. Either way...you are forewarned, just in case. Sorry in advance, this is going to be a small booklet by the time Im done explaining, and thinking, and then attempting to stick words to abstract feels which sometimes im great at, and then others i fucking suck at...but at least this is all written and not me trying to say this to any of your faces! Thats....a mercy all of its own. Haa...  Anyway, while rewatching with my partner, I realized just how much more painful parts of it are to sit through now...they were the first time, and each time since, but NOW having spent a while mulling over the series as a whole a bunch, and reading a lot of other peoples writings on here and finding myself largely in agreement with most Entrapdak fan’s assessment of things, I just....feel like all the air is ripped out of me during some moments, watching  with keener insight. And despite thinking i had myself reasonably well figured out by my age, its all also made me further consider a few things about myself as well. Particularly my notable internalized fury response to chunks of it which have been consistent through all my viewings of SPOP. With Hordak at least, its way easier to understand my reactions. For me at least. Maybe not so much for the people around me. And, shittier due to intensity and subject matter, but still easier in the long run because...the broken bits in me that he resonates with are fresher and sharper and still more recent, like within the last ten years, and thus more towards the front shelves in my head, compared to things that resonate with Entrapta, which are all old, lifelong dull aches at this point. I feel like nothing i can point to is fully sufficient to fully express my feels involving Hordak. But, maybe the best representative moment is with the crying i do every damn time I see his face looking up at Prime just after he glimmer and catra were beamed up...because ive seen that face in the mirror. I HAVE MADE THAT FACE. That same. Goddamn. Face. I may not have gotten a jab to the back of the neck directly from the person I made it at...but they often seemed to silently goad me to harm myself in an attempt to jolt my brain out of getting stuck in re-looping through what theyd just done/said to me. Likewise, much of his interactions with Entrapta are very...very weirdly familiar in feeling, but in a good way. Watching the stuff with Hordak hurts because fuck me if it isnt frequently like watching myself back in 2008ish to 2013, which was the duration of the worst parts of that particular circle of hell i parked my ass in. So...that makes sense. Hes so well written in those moments, it occasionally gave me PTSD flashbacks (still does a little, but now im prepared and braced for it and can shrug it back off....thanks, lifetime of therapy and years of studying abnormal psychology! Still totally not an expert, just very passionate...just, as a disclaimer).  Entrapta though...Entrapta is a different story. Mostly, I see Entrapta and in her free expressions of delight and joy and her bouncy enthusiasm I am reminded of a younger, less discouraged me in some ways, and in others, a “me” I could have been, but...well, extremely early-onset anxiety and depression made me insanely self-conscious super-super early on...not that i was great at hiding or...i guess the term people seem comfy with is “masking”? Which was a huge problem, or so it was in the 80s when far less was understood of such things. Id do so for a bit and then would forget to, in a way (because id forget long enough to go and trust again reflexively) and would get badly bullied and would squish everything down until id feel a crumb of safety again, and then almost instantly ADHD would pop that mask right the rest of the way off aaand it would start all over again. Ad nauseam until my teen years, where the depression sort of “fixed” that, and made it much easier to destroy my desire to share much of myself freely at all, save for with one or two people, and to a less deep extent a broader circle of nerd friends. Course, then i hit 30 and ran out of the majority of fucks I used to give. Or I became so damaged and salted with anger that parts of me dont grow any fucks anymore? Either way, plowshares to swords, WHEEEE!) And, maybe thats where this time while watching, I started to really think back to all that, and to how i see Entrapta treated by the other princesses, or really just in general except by Hordak...and why it burns my biscuits so badly. Every time I see someone roll their eyes at Entrapta’s beautiful unbridled enthusiasm or try to make it seem distasteful or at least weird and unwanted and uncomfortable for them but then dont even bother to try coming to terms with why they feel that way... or how they seem to feel free to grab and manhandle her without her consent, or the way they try to lessen her contributions because shes non-normative? Like its the fucking least she can do to make up for being weird in their space (...okay, that might just be the anger kicking in..but i dont feel like its an entirely innacurate assessment, is it?)  All of that...seeing it inflicted upon someone, It feels like someones punched me right in the damn sternum, but because its a hurt that im so desensitized to, it seems to have a much different effect than the sharp, violent crushing pain that i feel when I relate to Hordak a little too well for comfort. Again, i could go on, but its nothing more eloquent people on here havent already spoken volumes on. And my first gut reaction is always “I dont understand! why is that their reaction to her?! it doesnt seem logical at all, i dont seem to be able to parse it correctly, how is this acceptable? I HOPE SHE IMMOLATES YOU ALL.”. Which...I suppose isnt entirely usual for me (the silent wishing that people be immolated, I mean...i blame my past years of working in retail. And devouring too much Warhammer 40k contentl).  (oh gods...and this is going to be the most clusterfucky part cause i can feel my meds kicking in and thats gonna be hard to keep coherence on but i gotta get this all out of my head or ill forget it or get too scared of you fucking BRILLIANT insightful smart people on here and then ill continue to live scared and regretful that i never said..anything, and just sat here like “noticeme, entrapdak sempais!”  Ehhn...which is to say, if this is a garbage dump from here down, dont worry, when i wake up ill fix it...but hopefully itll at least make a tiny bit of sense ) But I realized something...something I hadnt ever rememberd much about due to the shitty neuronormative (apology if thats wrong term) behaviors continuing over years and years but in less and less directly aggressive ways as i grew older and was more prone to losing my shit in , (and likely because I got excessively lucky and managed through...uhhh...agonizing determination? Sheer stubbornness? Alleviatory rebalancing of universal karma? fuck if i know --to  curate a surprisingly supportive circle of other castoffs and misanthropes.) That was exactly how people used to treat me.  OKAY THISLL BE EDITED LATER to add in the rest of what i was gonna say...im...too full of Ambien sleep meds and damn write it anymore...and im aing trouble separating realigty and dream...an i k apawing at the kybord...not safe Lov yous for reading this far. Il fix it later, swears.

#should i tag this? #im not sure if i like it #berres #psyhcology of pop culture chraracters #psychology of the writer/author

[briteboy]

yelling @ santi, i’m evil again (what else is new), SOME REALLY REALLY OLD ASKS, one GoT spoiler at the very bottom (beware)

*angrily slaps santi* GET YOUR SELF TOGETHER YAH POOP HEAD

Lou and Fiona deserve happiness pls let it happen ty

they do ;-; it will happen, don’t worry, no one suffers forever <3 i’ve actually been planning out lou’s story and i’m excited to actualize it hehe

I just read all of Santis story. Dear god, it is amazing. I cannot begin to describe how much I love it. I have been really sick lately and have such a hard time concentrating on anything for more than one second but I have not been able to look away from this story, not even when I re-read it for the third time. You are an amazing writer and I have fallen in love with every charachter you have introduced. I teared up so many times and my heart began beating fast, it was really an experience.

OH MY GOD ;___________; YOU READ IT THREE TIMES WHAATDOSOIGODFSKL holy shit thank you so much, i don’t even know what to say right now lmao ;-; i’m just kinda in awe that i was able to grab your attention like that and that you enjoyed it so much and just askjdjfsd THANK YOU i can’t say anything else but just thank you, people like you make this all worth it <3 

A case of the novembers is the kinda story you read and you just know its going to stick with you for awhile. Like ones day, you'll be long gone in the future, doing something totally different, older wiser, all that bullshit, and you'll just randomly remember what a bittersweet story it was.

OMFG ;___; holy heck asjdjnfkdkjs this really got me right in the heart lmao. that’s the kind of story it’s always been for me and seeing other people interpret it that way as well is just mind boggling, thank you <3 

You are evil. My poor heart hurts. ;______________;

you've ruined my life

Life hack: listen to the entire Hamilton soundtrack whilst working out at the gym. By the end of it, you'll have lost half your body weight due to sweating and crying at the same time (pls help this was such a bad decision)

OMG that’s me with grimes’ art angels lmao i go hord to kill v maim and venus fly

hamilton fans also go hord i respect it. learn more about history get swole killing two birds with one stone

Okay this is so fucking random but a while ago you did a post where you talked about perfect bby gianni saying that he spent a lot of time in introspection and like Thank you 'cause now I have a word to put on this thing I do when I try to figure why I feel certain things or what my relationship with people/random shit is and why and yeah I kind of understand myself a little better now so thx a lot!!! 😘😘😘 Also, you're great.

i think i was actually talking about santi (’cause that’s where we’re at right now, in that period of introspection for him heheh) but YES omg that makes me so happy ;-; it’s a good word lmao and i do the same thing, in fact i’m always trying to figure out my relationships with everything in order to understand myself more. that’s kinda why i’m so into astrology haha. i’m glad you finally got to pin down that feeling for yourself, it’s the best when that happens <3 YOU’RE GREAT TOO 💫

NOOOOOOOO MY FAVS THIS CAN'T... LOU.... SANTI PLS... THIS IS A RIOT 😭😭

let’s start protesting santi in the streets

Hi!! Umm I'm guessing you do but just in case, did you know there was a tear accessory? I think it's an eyeliner (cause you mentioned having to draw them yourself)

yeah i do! i mentioned the ones by s-club, i’ve used those a couple times. but i like drawing them myself because i feel like it’s weird to have the same single teardrop every time one of my characters cries (and we all know they’ve been crying a lot lately lmfao) if they didn’t cry often i probably wouldn’t feel compelled to draw the tears. but i don’t mind drawing them honestly, it’s kinda fun lmao. thanks for your consideration <3 

so im sitting here thinkin....... what if santi goes on this trip and coms back and lou is in a relationship!?!?!

👏santi👏get👏it👏together👏

HE’S TRYIN

i want to die

AAAH SOLE DEVELOPMENT BETWEEN CUTE DEVIL CHILD AND I ALMOST DIED TWICE TATOO MAN YES

I HAD TO READ THIS LIKE THREE TIMES TO UNDERSTAND IT LMFAOSDOJDKF BUT YES their relationship kills me the most ;__;

wait santi tried to kys :'(

WHERE U BEEN he did  :{

what font do u use in your histories?

arial!

hi u have a really pretty blog and I hope you have a good day

THIS IS SO SWEET I DON’T DESERVE IT ;-; I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY TOO HONEYBEE 🌻

nyooooooom

I WENT M.I.A FOR A LITTLE AND I COME BACK TO READ UP ON THE STORY AND HOW DARE YOU ASHDDJFKL

@teishajenaie on instagram looks like Rooney to me, idk if you'd agree but ??

i see it!! definitely in the eyes and nose. also sorry i answered this literally like 3 months later lmao

gooey by glass animals gives me santi vibes :) ive been listening to it on repeat (bc im tht bitch) and it was making me think of you and his story! c: i hope you dont mind me over here lmao anyway, im excited to see where it goes and real excited for a back story for lou!! <3 lots of love

omg haha that’s actually funny because i used it in that one scene of him tripping, although it’s like completely a gianni song to me (at least personality-wise, it’s even on his playlist on my character page) and noooo i don’t mind, i love that song and i love when people recommend me songs!! i have a whole bunch of recommendations in my inbox that i need to acknowledge omg. anyway I’M EXCITED THAT YOU’RE EXCITED, especially for lou’s story, it’s coming up reeeeeal soon <333

i feel so late to the party but i Just started reading your story like five minutes ago and im absolutely entranced by it already and i cant wait to catch up and finally understand what to heck is going on

this was sent literally forever ago when santi and molly were out there being wild in the desert lmao so i hope you caught up and everything. “entranced” omg that’s such a wonderful word i’m honored

i didnt think i could love you more but the fact that you watch arrested development makes me so happy. i cry. my boyfriend has a mr manager, bluths frozen bananas shirt thats literally my favorite thing ever.

OMGGG YES i watched it once forever ago and i need to re-watch it asap lmao. I’M PRETTY SURE I BOUGHT THAT SAME EXACT SHIRT FOR MY BROTHER FOR CHRISTMAS ONE YEAR

Just a biiig prank. Huge

this one is from so long ago i don’t remember the context but i laughed at loud when i read it. huge

i was playing with uncharted for the first time today and they said Navarro in it and i was like THATS MY BOI SANTIII

santi infiltrating everyone’s lives my bf played uncharted tho!! it looked cool. like indiana jones. i liked the marketplace part. a monkey stole his apple

Hi sunny! I really am in love with your story (even if it's tearing me apart at the moment) and just wanted to say you're cool Stay strong ma dude

HI THANK YOU <333 you’re also cool my dude and i’m sorry for tearing you apart (if it makes you feel any better this story tears me apart on a daily basis)

what packs and expansions do u have for ur game?

ummmmmm all of them except vintage glamour and fitness stuff. i wish i didn’t buy some of the stuff packs lmao but what can ya do i actually didn’t even get vampires or bowling or parenthood until like a month ago lmao i’m late to the party

Oh shit she's been dead hasn't she. Like this is all a drug or alcohol infused bender of mollys memory, she's probably never left. They're probably still at the hospital. I hope I fucking wrong but shit I also hope not. Poor santi

we’re so far past this but i just wanted to publish this anyway lmao it was a good theory! and this person was so sure of it it kinda made me wish it was true lol. sorry if that disappointed you but i’ll always remember this one in my sad sad heart 💔

how long did it take for you to make friends here? I started a simblr because I really like storytelling with my sims & I thought it'd be fun to meet people who enjoy that, too, especially since I don't have many friends irl...but I've been here for quite a few months now and it seems like no one even cares that I'm here....everyone I try to interact with pretty much ignores me after a message or two....I'm just feeling really discouraged about my presence here :/

I’M REALLY SORRY I DIDN’T ANSWER THIS SOONER ASKJDKJFSDKA (i’m sure it didn’t help the fact that you feel ignored, i really really hope you see this) but okay uhhhhhhh i only had acquaintances from 2015 up until like this year? then i started really becoming close with people. so it took a while lol, but i think everyone starts off slow because it’s mostly about the actual game we’re playing at first and then making friends just happens through that. don’t get discouraged, like i said it took a while for me. you really just need to reach out to the people you’d like to become friends with, reply to their posts, give your genuine thoughts, say something that’ll make their day...people notice that no matter what they have going on, i promise. i hope you’re still here and hanging in there. don’t get caught up in who’s talking to you or not talking to you, just do your thing, enjoy what you do, and people will notice you. <3

3. Hi so I just wanted to say that I love your story, I'm here for every update. I'm an s3 player I play s4 every once in awhile but s3 has my soul. I love Santi and I know he will be happy in the end, whether it's with Lou or not(hopefully it is tho) I only want him to be happy. I go through so many emotions in one post, like this is a tv drama and I can’t wait for the next episode. This is the end of my cut and paste. Have a nice day.❤️

HI HELLO <3 this is so sweet and i can’t believe you actually care about my story lmao thank you i’m glad you have faith in his happy ending, i don’t want anyone to think i genuinely like making my characters suffer lmao. i only do it to make the happy ending more satisfying. asjdfjksd comparing my stuff to film or tv always makes me so giddy so THANK YOU ily <333

"Suicide before you see this tear fall down my eyes" (Beyonce) reminds me of Molly's situation soooo muchhhh aaaahhhhh

OMG YES what a good connection. good song good connection yaeeahhh better call molly with the good hair

Ummmm... hello! I just read through your whole story with Santi and I'm like... holy fuck. Not only is your story wonderful, your editing is so good. I'm surprised I didn't shove my eyes up against my computer screen. Please continue making wonderful things and being great. Signing off 12:31 in the morning, I hope you have as much fun as you want to

“as much fun as you want to” omfgasdkngjd why did that make me laugh so much. don’t have too much fun, have the responsible amount of fun anyway HELLO thank you soooooO much ;-; pls don’t shove ur eyes up against the screen i’m almost positive that’s not good for them. but i appreciate this so much thank YOU for being great <3 signing off at 2:18 in the morning after ignoring this message for months now (i’m sorryyyyyyy) but um ily

HELLO??? I JUST READ A SERIOUS CASE OF NOVEMBER FOR THE FIRST TIME AND I'M LIKE CRYING???? y u do dis to me I hate you and love you at the same time

(I need to rant I'm sorry) My uncle is really positive towards the army and war and stuff like that and all day he's been going on about how it should be mandatory to serve in the military, especially for "little brat girls" like me? And it's stressing me out so much I want to cry :( The army and war is something that genuinely scares me and I don't want anything to do with it, but he's just going on and on! What should I do?

this is literally sooooooooo late and i feel so bad i’m sorry, i hope this still helps you out and i hope you see it tho okay. i’m pretty sure this was even before the trans military ban like whew idek what your uncle must think about that. tbh just ignore him, like i know it’s hurtful but like...what is his point in telling you this? i would’ve literally been like (sarcastically) “ok then sign me up” but i’m also a lil shit so that’s probably not the best thing to say. but really like the only thing he’s trying to do is feel powerful by means of expressing his militaristic (no pun intended) opinions to someone far younger than him. it’s so that he feels bigger and better than you (especially by calling you a brat). he’s a sad man and anyone who relies on the military, of all things, to shape a person probably doesn’t have a strong sense of self anyway. i love you okay, just ignore him, don’t let him stress you out <3

I'm a little high and it's late but I have a lot of courage now so I've been following you for a while and I just want to tell you how much I love your story! I have come across other places on tumblr who do this but none have captured me as this one did! You are amazing and I am in love with this story! Thanks fo being you! :)

ONMG YOU HAD TO BE HIGH TO SEND THIS LMAO that was me this weekend anyway thank you so much, it floors me every time anyone says these kinds of things to me and it never gets old ;-; you are so amazing ok <333

you can't possibly be offended by a homophobic joke in game of thrones, it's set in medieval times. they had several lgbt characters in it, it's not the show that's homophobic, it's the characters, which is accurate for that time period.

o i can and i will lmao i mean i get where you’re coming from but with that logic you could say it’s only accurate to put homophobic jokes in today’s media just because people are still homophobic in the time live in. i know it’s the characters, but you do understand that someone writes those characters, right? it’s bad writing. it’s lazy and pandering and because of that it’s offensive. idk if you know the exact dialogue i was referring to but it was so completely unnecessary lmfao. they could’ve made a million other jokes. regardless of how it offended me it was just BAD lmao

SPOILER BELOW OK DON’T SAY I DIDN’T WARN YA

@ I wanna watch GoT anon: don't. It's just so fucking bad. The definition of overhyped tbh (and btw, sunny, PLS HELP HE SCREWED HIS FUCKING AUNT WTH)

LMAO SOMEONE ACTUALLY AGREES WITH ME? wow bless u. it is definitely overhyped, like it was good at first but it’s been riding that hype through these past couple of seasons to disguise the bad writing. i understand being entertained by it, but i’m always surprised when people think it’s actually well written at this point...it’s so cringey and now thanks to the season finale this fanbase will be justifying incest. great!

OK MOVE ALONG NOW

#AND I'LL BE ANSWERING THE CHARACTER ASKS TOMORROW (well today but whatev) #anonymous #nonsims #saviorhide #sunny answers