#but like. my point is. there's worse people. and if i focus all of my energy about being mad over a person who made one joke in bad taste

[sandcobangevent]

Unlucky

by @high-functioning-otter and @holmosexualitea Read the fic over on AO3!

Bing. Text notification. About the 10th in the last half an hour. John didn’t count deliberately. Actually, he was trying to focus on answering emails and editing a new episode for the podcast but he struggled a lot with concentrating today. That’s why Mariana had offered to go for a walk with Archie for him and also dragged Sherlock along so he could really work in peace for once.

He glanced over at the phone screen lighting up again after another message came in. From where he was sitting, he could only see who these messages sent and not the content of them. Nevertheless, he nearly fell off his chair when his brain registered who the sender was: Carol Watson. Now every last bit of concentration was definitely completely gone. This was Mariana’s phone, she forgot it. But what? Why was Mariana texting his mother? And what about? And since when? And why???

After yet another text notification sound disrupted the silence of the living room, John couldn’t contain himself anymore. He knew that it was wrong to snoop through other people’s phones – especially if these people are your friends. He knew he shouldn't, but he simply couldn't help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text from the lockscreen.

“What is this?” John held up Mariana’s phone right into her face. It had felt like an eternity since his two housemates left and now that they were back he didn't know what to feel. The past hour he went through all sorts of emotions. From confusion to betrayal to anger to more confusion and then more anger.

“This is my phone. I left it at home. Thank you, John.” Mariana replied confused and she reached out for the phone but John quickly pulled his hand back.

“No, I know what this is. I meant the messages. Why are you texting my mom?” Mariana’s eyes widened a bit. Unsure she glanced over at Sherlock. She didn't know how to respond, if she should tell the truth or resort to a lie. “The question rather is: why are you reading Mrs Hudson’s text messages?” the detective answered for her.

“No no, that’s not...” John cleared his throat awkwardly but then hurriedly continued talking. “Anyway, you know, I can understand when my mother refuses to tell me about this but… you? I-I mean… yes. Isn’t this super weird? And wow okay I never expected my mom to not be straight or that she would go for someone so much younger… or that you would…”

“Get to the point, Watson!” Sherlock finally interrupted the rambling.

“Why are you dating my mother?!” Suddenly the room was dead silent, the three just stared at each other in confusion before both Mariana and Sherlock busted out into laughter. “What? Where did you get that idea?” Mariana asked while she was trying to calm down again.

“Here.” The doctor held up the phone once more and showed the messages to her. She read them and then nodded. “Yeah, okay I can see where you’re coming from. But I can assure you, it’s not what it looks like!” That was exactly the sentence everyone used after they’ve been caught red-handed, when it's exactly what it looks like. Mariana looked over at Sherlock, almost as if she was asking for his permission to speak. Finally, he shrugged and answered for her: “We’re assisting her on a case. Now, she didn’t want us to tell you but seems like nothing gets past you. Well done, Watson, you do make a great detective.”

“A case? What kind of case- Hold on. Why didn’t she want you to tell me? What’s going on?” This was worse. Way worse than just a hidden relationship or anything of the sort. All this time his two friends had secretly worked on a case together, right behind his back. But that also explained a lot.

“She doesn’t want us to tell you.” Mariana replied with a nearly guilty expression on her face. John just couldn’t understand this. What was it that he couldn’t know about? But it was no use. He wouldn’t get an answer to this question, at least not on this day. Both of his housemates were very keen on keeping the secret a secret and no matter how often he asked none of them answered it. Eventually, it was too much for him.

“Right, that’s it, I’m going out. To the pub, in case you’re-… no actually, don’t. Don’t follow or search for me.” And with that John left the house in a hurry. He quickly got into the nearest tube station and took the next train that would take him away from 221b Bakerstreet.

The now podcaster found himself in the exact spot he was in a few months ago. This was not The Volunteer, the pub he would normally go to. No, this was the pub he was supposed to meet up with Mary, where he then ran into Stamford and where this adventure with his detective flatmate started. Now he was there alone, thinking over this crazy day. It had started so normal and now everything was different. The microphone was laying on the table but for once it wasn’t on. John felt upset, extremely upset. It was less painful that his mother was hiding something from him – at a certain age it simply was like that – it hurt more that the people he saw as his best friends went along with it and actually didn’t tell him about it. What problem could be that horrible that it had to be hidden so well? And why didn’t mom just go to the police if it was something serious? Why go to his friends but keep her own son out of it? So many questions and so little answers.

The next day John barely spoke a word to his friends. They had never seen him so upset before. Of course, they tried to apologize but it was all in vain. When it was time for dinner, Sherlock tried again: “Watson. I’m really sorry. But your mother did give very clear instructions.” Silence. “Would you like a hug?” John considered it for a second but then he decided that a simple hug would not solve this matter. “A cup of tea? Biscuits? Anything?” Tea and biscuits for dinner? Yeah no but nice try. “Okay, I don’t understand it. I've apologized multiple times, I don't know what else to do.” John finally opened his mouth to answer but just in that moment someone knocked on the door.

It was Mariana. Perfect timing. “Can I borrow Sherlock for a second?” the doctor couldn’t believe his ears now. The audacity to ask this right in front of him when it was obvious what she wanted Sherlock for. Not this time. He just needed to know what’s going on.

“No actually, first you explain this to me. What is so horrible that my mother doesn’t want me to know?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. Mariana sighed. Now it didn't take much and she finally gave in. She hated this game of hide-and-seek. Only very reluctantly she began to talk.

“Okay. It’s about a guy.” John scoffed and immediately interrupted her baffled. “Really? That’s what she wants to hide from me? She's had dates before ever since dad… well, I'm not mad at her, you know. If it makes her happy then she can go out with whoever she likes.“

“Yes, but the last time they met up the guy acted completely different than before, a complete turnaround. He wanted her to go back to his house but she got suspicious and left early instead. And then she reached out to us. Well, to Sherlock with the request to check up on this man and to not tell you anything.”

John just laughed out loud. “Are you being serious right now? So, this… this is the grand secret that no one here could tell me about? Seriously, why didn’t you just tell me for god’s bloody sake?”

“We were trying to protect you. That guy has also been stealing from her. Nothing expensive but just personal objects. The pictures she had of you and your father in her purse were gone after the first meetup, for example.” A shiver ran down John’s spine. That was extremely creepy. Sherlock sighed and ran a hand over his face. He continued to explain the case. “It gets worse I'm afraid. He’s been involved with women that went missing after they met up with him.” Yup, it indeed got worse. John got goosebumps on his whole body and he wished that this was just a silly coincidence or a bad dream. But it wasn't.

“Who is he?” he finally managed to ask with a sigh and a slightly wobbly voice. Mariana took a quick look at her phone before answering that question. “His name is David Fisher. It’s his real name, Sherlock got that checked.”

“Wait... David Fisher? Why is that name familiar…” the doctor started pacing around the room restlessly while his roommate continued talking. “The police couldn’t find any evidence for his connection to the disappearances but I’m most certain that he has something to do with it. Can’t prove it yet, shame.”

Suddenly John turned around quickly and quite shocked. “Oh my… I know him!” He looked alternatingly at his two friends. “We need to leave now! Right now!”

***

He had always been different. Not by choice. Some people are simply born like that. Most of his time he spent alone, mainly because he was always a bit cleverer than the other kids and he just couldn’t understand the others. His parents were a lovely couple but drowning in work. So, they also had little time for their son.

Things didn't change when he finished high school. He had no difficulties in finding a place to study and even went to study his desired subject, biology. But still, he was very lonely and felt like he didn’t belong there. All the other students were so different and he just couldn’t understand them. And again, he spent most of his time alone studying in his room.

After completing his studies with a remarkable result, he was looking for jobs. But due to a lack of communication and social skills, thanks to him being along so much, he had quite a difficult time. Eventually, he found a job at a university’s cafeteria as a canteen worker and considered himself as an utter failure.

One day a young man with blonde hair and a football tricot came into the cafeteria. This guy sat down with his mates at a table not far from where he was working. He could hear every word they were saying. The young man’s name was John and seemed to have everything he didn’t have. John was studying medicine and had a small group of friends. He could see that this John was pretty socially awkward and yet his friends weren’t appalled by this. No, quite the contrary, they appeared to like him. And again it was something he couldn’t understand. All his life he had been like that and yet no one even bothered to get to know him. He was suddenly feeling very angry.

Many people came to the cafeteria every day. It could have been anyone but for some reason the blonde football tricot John wouldn’t leave his mind. And with that the anger and the jealousy. Why did he succeed at what I didn’t?

***

Luckily, Mariana had found out the address pretty quickly and now they were rushing down the street to get to the underground. On the way John tried to recall what he knew. “He worked in the canteen at university and that was his name, I believe.” They rushed down the stairs and barely made it into the right tube.

“The sort of person that tends to blend into the background and you don’t really notice them. We never even talked. Until one afternoon he attacked me out of nowhere, right there in front of everyone. Nothing happened really but he got fired for it none the less. Bollocks... I had completely forgotten about this.”

They made it in record time to the address and John nearly couldn’t believe his eyes when the door was finally opened. That was the man from the cafeteria all those years ago. The doctor recognized him despite him being much older now. “Are you David Fisher?” he finally managed to ask.

“Sure yeah. What’s the matter?” David seemed nervous now, fidgeting with his fingers. He had also realized who he just opened the door for. And just like the other man, he had a hard time believing that this was really happening right now.

“I’m John Watson and this is Sherlock Holmes. Can we maybe come in?” David nodded and suddenly John felt very uneasy. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to go into this house but too late, no turning back now.

Walking into the house felt like a timelapse. Like a nightmare or one of those terrible crime series on BBC 4. On one of the countertops, John spotted the stolen pictures from his mom’s wallet. On the wall in the living room there was a collection of very few newspaper articles but somehow they were all about a certain soldier and now podcaster. David just stared at him with a blank expression and appeared almost calm. “Right...” John started but suddenly everything happened so fast.

David rushed forward towards the doctor and tackled him to the floor. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. Not the way I planned it but…” He got cut off by Sherlock intervening and trying to get him down from his friend. Quickly the attacker recovered and despite him being almost 15 years older, he was able to fight off the two younger men.

For good ten minutes the living room was the scene of a battle before finally the police knocked down the front door and pulled the fighting men apart. Mariana appeared in the door frame. She waited outside and as she heard what was happening, she quickly called the police.

As David got escorted John watched him, exhausted from the fight and disturbed by the whole situation. “Why? Why me? Why my mother? Just... why?” he managed to ask, looking into the cold face of the man. There was not a single bit of regret. David simply answered: “I was unlucky enough to meet you.”

***

David Fisher had a pretty normal life after getting fired from the university’s cafeteria. He was devastated of course but much to his own surprise he pretty quickly found another work. Everything would've been just fine if he didn't get that text. A text he never should’ve read. But he couldn't help himself.

It was a newspaper article. Sent by a family member because a cousin was in it but on that picture was also the blonde football tricot boy. And David saw red. He made a vicious plan. He would get his revenge on John by getting to his mother first. And then he started to practice on the women that disappeared after he met up with them. But he was clever. The police never found anything concrete and so he walked free until the day John actually showed up at his house.

***

“Scary, it’s always the people you’d least expect it from.” Mariana broke the silence between them as they sat at an almost empty pub. The past few days had been complete chaos. John called a lot with his mom. To take their minds off things Mariana had invited the boys to the pub and they ended up staying there way too long.

“Yeah... you know, it was good that you took on the case. Even if you didn't tell me, which you totally should have, and I'm still slightly mad that you didn't, but... who knows what would have happened if you ignored my mother,” the doctor finally answered after a while. He was feeling better but certainly not completely fine yet.

“No,” Sherlock shook his head. “We should have involved you earlier. It was you who solved this case in a matter of minutes. It would have been way worse if you didn't snoop around Mrs Hudson’s phone.”

John wanted to be offended at first but then he just nodded and simply took a sip of his drink. The detective was right, of course. He knew he shouldn’t have but he was so glad he read that text.

#submission #sherlock and co #sherlock & co #flashbang event #sherlock homes #john watson #mariana ametxazurra

[pinkpkmntrainer]

i did it. i fucking did it. abstragedy be upon you all. finally.

***********

Zooble watched from a distance as the ringmaster shoved everyone into the portal that had just appeared. They had decided to opt out of today’s adventure, so it was just them in the circus for today. Which they didn’t mind at all, in fact, they were happy to have alone time. It gave them a chance to think clearly without any interruption from any crazy people.

“Zooble, my dear!” Caine shouted as he teleported directly in front of them out of nowhere. Ugh. Speaking of crazy people…

“Don’t call me that.” they grumbled. “I’m not your dear.”

“Right, my apologies!” the dentures replied. “But since everyone else is over at the Candy Canyon Kingdom, I was thinking that maybe you, me, and Bubble could-”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“...Ooookay. That’s a no, then. So, um…in that case, I guess you can just do whatever you want.” And with that, he was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

Zooble rolled their eyes as they began to wander aimlessly. Why was it that they could never seem to catch a break? Oh well, at least now they had a bit of time to themselves. Hopefully Caine wouldn’t bother them again. It wasn’t long before their thoughts began to wander as well.

They recalled the events of the previous day, where they were kidnapped by the Gloinks and fed to their queen. They remembered the look of fear and worry on Gangle's face when they were carried off. And they remembered how, when Kinger had failed to grab them with his floating hands, they thought “If only Gangle was the one saving me”. She would've known what she was doing, plus they would've gotten to be held gently by her...

…Huh. Weird.

Brushing away those thoughts, they started to look around the giant main room. There wasn't really anything new to see, but there were things to notice. Like the dark red color of the curtains that hung over the stage, and how it reminded them of Gangle's red ribbon body. There was something so cute about the way it would wrap around you completely when she hugged you, and-

Zooble suddenly realized what they were doing, and patted their own face, bringing themselves back to reality. They just couldn't seem to focus today…

They tried to lean on one of the gigantic blocks in the room like it was a wall, but they unexpectedly slipped and hit the floor with a hard thud. Luckily there wasn't anyone around to see their embarrassing little tumble, but as they lay there shocked, they thought about all the times they saw Gangle trip and fall. Her body was so flimsy, it wasn't a surprise that it happened often. But no matter what, she always managed to get up again, which was something to be admired. And sometimes when they helped her up, she’d thank them and they’d feel all warm and fuzzy-

Zooble sat up in a panic and tapped the heel of their hand against their forehead, as if trying to shake the thoughts out of their brain. Why were they thinking like this? What was happening? 

They stood up frantically and began to walk in the direction of the hallway where everyone’s rooms were. They were supposed to go to their room, but their mind was so plagued with thoughts of Gangle, they accidentally walked to her room instead, which only made them feel worse. They slammed their forearms against the door and groaned in frustration. The door just swung open and they fell again. Zooble was feeling awful by this point, the thoughts were nice and all, but they had no idea why they were thinking these things and it was scaring the $&*! out of them. They eventually sat up and took in the sight of Gangle’s room. 

Most of the decor and furniture was in the same range of colors as Gangle herself; dark red and white shades, though things like the bedframe, wardrobe and vanity were all made of dark brown wood. Every surface was covered in craft supplies, plushies, manga, and other such things. Despite the clutter, the room was pleasant and cozy.

As if by instinct, Zooble stepped into the room and started to look around. They weren’t trying to snoop or anything, it was just that being in the room made them feel closer to the ribbon girl…if that made any sense. They eventually settled themselves into a corner, next to a box of art stuff. It was peaceful, sitting there in Gangle’s room. They sighed with relief, not feeling quite so lonely anymore. The mix-and-match toy felt like they might even fall asleep like this…

“ZOOBLE!!”

Zooble lept in place, startled by the sudden yell. Of course Caine had to ruin this for them.

“Caine, what the #&*%!?!?”

“Apologies, my mismatched pal! I simply wanted to check on you! And you had me worried for a while, I couldn’t find you anywhere!” He looked around the room with a puzzled expression. “...Why are you in Gangle’s room??”

Zooble felt their breath snag in their throat. He probably thought they were a creep or something. And they couldn’t blame him.

“...I don’t have a good answer to that question.”

Caine frowned at them. Or at least, they thought it was a frown. “What’s the matter? Are you feeling a little bit of FOMO about today’s adventure?” he inquired. Zooble would’ve laughed at his choice of words if they weren’t so lost in thought still.

“I’m fine, just lonely is all.”

“Lonely? Well, we simply can’t have that! Perhaps I could spawn in an NPC for you to talk to? Or you could hang out with me and Bubble! My offer still stands!”

Zooble drew in a sharp inhale, unsure of how to explain everything to the ringmaster.

“It's a bit more complicated than that. The truth is, I…miss someone.”

“Miss someone?” Caine was confused. His gaze wandered the room briefly, and when he looked at the portrait on the open door, it all suddenly made sense. A soft, sympathetic look faded onto his face, and he lowered himself to the ground, seating himself next to Zooble.

“…You miss Gangle?”

Zooble was surprised he got it so quickly, but nodded. They looked down at the box they were seated next to, their eyes falling on a roll of red satin ribbon. They picked it up and started to slowly wrap it around their hand. It felt almost exactly like they imagined it would feel to hold hands with Gangle…they felt their face grow warmer at the thought. They suddenly became aware of Caine mumbling something, but they couldn’t quite hear him. “What?”

“I’m sure she misses you too.”

Zooble blushed at the kind statement. “Oh…thanks.” They were silent for a long moment, then yawned and leaned on the box a little more. In their drowsy state, they didn’t even notice when Caine tiptoed out of the room and shut the door behind him. It only took a moment for them to fall into a deep sleep.

Gangle tumbled out of the portal back into the main room of the circus, clutching the shattered pieces of her comedy mask as tightly as she could. As she and everyone else stood up and grumbled, Caine appeared in front of them and did his usual greeting, with all the same sickly sweet enthusiasm.

“Welcome back, superstars! I trust you all had a fun time at the Candy Canyon Kingdom?”

The sound of groaning and complaining arose from the group, which the ringmaster ignored as usual. But after he presented the performers with their reward, his jaw curled into a grin as he drifted towards Gangle, and simply said:

“Someone’s waiting for you.”

Gangle had no idea what he meant by that. She allowed him to lead her to her room, where he swung the door open to reveal…Zooble? To her surprise, the mix-and-match character was sitting in the corner of her room, fast asleep, with a bunch of satin ribbon wrapped around their hand. Her initial look of shock quickly turned into a soft smile as she stepped closer and sat down next to them.

“Have they been waiting here the whole time?” she asked, her eyes still fixed on Zooble’s sleeping face. Caine grinned cheerfully as he answered her question. “Indeed they have! I must say, you have a good friend on your hands!”

“Yeah. A good friend.” she mumbled to herself. She leaned in and planted a kiss on the sharp corner of Zooble's triangular head, a faint pink blush appearing on her porcelain cheeks. Caine's jaw curled into another wide grin as he shut the door. It was just the two of them now. A girl made of ribbons and a mix-and-match toy…

Both of them, hopelessly in love.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #fanfic #fanfiction #gangle x zooble #zooble x gangle #abstragedy #tadc gangle #tadc zooble #tadc caine #zooble tadc #gangle tadc

[punctuation-completionist]

you don’t have to answer this ask but wow how are you supposed to be the bad guy fucking apologizing for reacting badly to being told to kill yourself?? i hate this website

well okay hold up i never said i was the bad guy. i said there were misunderstandings on both sides and that i was sorry for an issue in one part of how i handled it. just one.

#ask tag #not counting #like um. i do understand that maybe this person's sense of humor is way different then mine okay #but like. they said that they didn't mean it legitimately and once they saw it was haarmful they apologized #for me to say ''i am glad i understand your side of the story and you understand mine'' i am not saying i'm the bad guy #there's really no ''bad guy'' in this situation as i see it because the world is more nuanced then that y'know #like. sometimes people have a sense of humor that you can't pick up on. it doesn't mean you shouldn't state your point of view #and say ''that wasn't how i want people to talk to me and i also won't let you do that'' #also the only part i really ''apologized'' for was that i used a term for them that was uncomfortable #i assume for gender reasons. and i understand where that comes from. if someone called me ''girl'' while arguing i wouldn't like it #whenever i said sorry after that i did my best to try and word it in a way like ''i am sorry this happened but it's not my fault'' #like how when. idk. someone's grandma dies and you say ''sorry for your loss'' you're not saying that you killed their grandma #you're just saying that you feel bad that the thing happened but not that it's your fault #and yes. i do agree that the situation may have been fixed if they just said it was a joke but hindsight is 20/20 right? #anyways. that's my take on the situation. #and like. idk. if they apologized and told me how they saw it. i'm gonna believe them because i have had WAY more malicious people here #like idk. there have been anons who have said wayy worse and there's no discernable reason for why they would #like that one anon who told me that i should get my arms chopped off or something. idk. i deleted it before i could commit it to memory #and that was on purpose #but like. my point is. there's worse people. and if i focus all of my energy about being mad over a person who made one joke in bad taste #idk just seems like a waste of time #at least that's my perspective on the situation. never said i was the bad guy. just sorry it happened #also sorry it happened so late at night for me! i need an ibuprofen and a bagel now

[rivilu]

Hey hello can i be sad on main or will the heavens unleash 7 thousand ravenous hawks upon me

#river rambles #vent post #tw for basically everything bellow just saying it now #sorry the last 8 years of not a single reason to live are getting to me <3 #i hate being alive i hate being trans I hate being autistic and not able to work like a normal person #to provide my transition to myself instead of having to rely on parents that kiind of support me? (dad) or are straight up pulling - #the 'you're making MEEE SUICIDAL!' card (mom) #i hate not being able to talk to people like a normal person #it's not even just the autism anymore i feel like i've been the worst version of me for such a long time i dont even know where to start #dysphoria is so fucking bad and getting worse every single day and any semblance of trans positivity winds up feeling toxic #like even body neutrality feels like an insult. im at a point where i want to tear myself apart just when i'm sitting still #i hate being told to wait for things to happen #the dreaded 'it'll get better' #it hasnt #it's been EIGHT. FUCKING. YEARS #nothing helps. i've exhausted every option within reach. no words of encouragement help at all #literally the only OPTION is to wait. and i've had! ENOUGH OF IT! #I've dreaded pride every year because it feels more and more like i'm living a lie being there. im not PROUD of being trans. #All i feel about it is misery. All the time. I hate my body so fucking much i cant do a single thing i want to do #most of my early years after figuring out im trans i tried to just ignore it and focus on pride about my sexuality #since i couln't transition then anyway #but as time went on and i became an adult and there's still not a single glimpse of light on the horizon. I can't focus on it anymore #because you know. those things are interconnected. So now i just feel like an unlovable piece of shit! #Like i will never be what i was meant to be. what i want to look like. #and i dont even want to try for any manner of relationship before that . because even if anyone DID like the current version of me #that's not even me #birth is a curse and existence is a prison etcetera

[dykedvonte]

Discussing the NCR (Fallouts NV's Military Industrial Complex)

Fallout regularly discusses the idea of the military, its faults, its strengths, and most importantly, the psycho-social aspects of it regarding those who are members. We have seen a direct critique of the military generalized through the Enclave's overt nationalism, the hoarding of resources and indoctrination through the Brotherhood of Steel, and an almost eerily modern critique of the whole military-industrial complex through the NCR in New Vegas. In these series of posts, I will be focusing primarily if not exclusively on the last one.

The NCR we see in the game is strictly the military side of things and the depiction of active occupation during a time of eminent war, conflicting factions, and resource scarcity. It is in this we are missing a major factor that negatively affects the view of the NCR in the game and out: Civilian life along with citizen opinion on the military. While we do get Mojave civilian opinion on the military (often neutral or negative) we do not get those who are New California Republic citizens, not those who actually discuss the military more so not understanding the importance of the occupation and the President's choices.

We do not see how life is regularly lived by the average citizen as we have not seen New California in New Vegas, though, we get words and glimpses that the people are relatively content in the growing country minus the fact many people are not happy with the choice of encroaching on the Mojave. This most similarly reflects it's real-world application that many civilian citizens reject acquisition and war due to the economic effects it has on the country and the general violence/loss associated.

In this, we come to an issue of losing a perspective that is unique to the NCR as a military representative. The Brotherhood is notably a place where its active members are intertwined with its efforts, the young are raised to be scribes, paladins, etc... To where even if one is not fighting for The Brotherhood, they are still intertwined, it's propaganda is the life. The Enclave is even more cut n' dry in that it is mostly made up of government representatives. It is a group even smaller than the former, even more selective and intertwined that their propaganda IS a form of Eugenics. The NCR is unique in that there is a clear distinction between what is the military force, the civilian population, and the choice if one wants to be a part of the former.

There is a distinct difference in the cultures of the factions you are born into and those you must enlist or join (forcibly for some). While this is a long-winded way to get into the actual discussion I want to facilitate throughout these posts I wanted an initial background post to understand the aspects I am and am not exploring and explaining along with a hub post to link everything I intend to discuss in the coming days and weeks, starting with:

Why Do People Join the NCR?

...which will be discussed and linked back here like everything else regarding to this topic.

Links: TBA

#fallout #fallout new vegas #new california republic #these will be longer posts so be warned #prepare to be sick of me #you thought i could yap before #should pin this but Im just gonna link it in the pinned post to be concise and since this isnt just a fallout blog I just am just obsessed #plus I dont want it to be centered focus while im only half way through with the first word doc #the three posts are just the beginning on my disection of the NCR and how the MIC is shown through it cuase #like pls its so much more nuanced with the specific ways each character in the faction interacts #at least the ones you can talk to and have options for like i know so many people do independent route but its so intriguing and you get ho #the military takes advantage of people but also how the individuals try or believe they fight for a good cause cause of all the brain washi #like some perpetuate and others dont but its a system that just gets worse the higher you go like grrrrr #a take cant be nuanced if you refuse to look or discuss the reasonings of another side or generalize their arguement through a personal len #like you need to be objective at points cause while you may feel a way in an analysis the context explains why in canon they feel a way #a retrospective on tumblr??? shocker #was gonna make this one giant mega post but it wouldve been cluttered and i wanna space them out cause its a lot to work on in one sitting #and what if I want to be silly in between???

[iniquity-fr]

there are many many reasons to feel like ancient breeds are being released too fast that have nothing to do with actually wanting those ancients in your own lair ffs it’s so annoying reading smug assholes post about how they have no issue with the pacing because “well the breeds aren’t going anywhere you can get them eventually stop worrying about having all the new things right away!!!” i fuckin hate these undressable bitches and i still very much feel like we’re getting them way too fast. why are people too stupid to consider literally any other reasons for people to not like the pace of ancient releases. if you clearly don’t know what you’re talking about then shut the fuck up perhaps

#the gene bloat they swear a fix is coming for that they keep making worse and worse for literal Years at this point #the ever growing pile of gene/art errors to be fixed. some errors being years old. #honestly i hate the way the entire focus of the site shifts toward every new breed upon release #like i’m forced to hold off on (re)releasing any of my skins/accents because if its not for the new breed go fuck yourself #hard to sell anything that’s not the new breed or dirt cheap fodder people can turn into the new breed #everything just becomes all about Shiny New Thing for a while and personally speaking i fucking hate it #and yes that’s far more of a personal issue/bias but still proves my point #that many of us do not in fact hate this pacing just because ‘weh i have to buy new thing NOW :(‘ #you cannot grasp the extent of my haterism. #but i mean ofc its gonna be mostly pro-ancient people who just have bad taste and shitty takes. lol. lmao.

[jacqcrisis]

any r@d/fems who are mourning end of Roe v Wade are the definition of Leopards Eating People’s Faces party. The conservative lobbying groups who they cheer and promote and agree and work with who are staunchly anti-trans like the Heritage Foundation are the same people who worked tirelessly for this exact thing to happen. Being jackasses to trans women got their foot in the door in t e r f’s books and now we went back 50 years on bodily autonomy, effecting every person with a uterus in the US whom they ‘’’’claim’’’’’ to be fighting for. 

You fucked around and found out solely to shit on trans people. Hope you’re happy reaping what you sowed. Can’t believe those leopards ate your face, amiright????

#hypocrisy abound #ive had arguments with these types when i saw all of them mass sharing a ''''sutdy'''' by one of those lobbying groups #regarding how '''''harmful'''' trans people are for children #when i pointed out the clear hypocrisy considering the group was staunchly against gay marriage and women's rights #at three of them were like 'ummm they're right about this one thing sooooo' #congratulations you played yourself #you aren't on the side of women #you're staunchly on the side of making trans lives worse #these are not sympatico my friends #will they stop shitting on other minorities to focus on this new tangible actual goal? #the conch says no

[cloudblaze]

Big ramble ahead but, okay. It kind of bothers me when people say Cinderpelt was forced to become a medicine cat. That language would seem to imply that she was forbidden from becoming a warrior, when that just... wasn't the situation.

After breaking her leg, she couldn’t walk properly. Travel became slow and exhausting for her, and as a result, everyone was worried that she couldn’t be a warrior. Up until this point in her life, becoming a warrior was the path basically everyone took, and if she couldn’t physically handle warrior duties, she feared that she was useless. But Yellowfang appreciated her company in the medicine den. She started giving her tasks to help her feel useful, and Cinderpelt began to regain some of her self esteem. After she had been helping out in the medicine den — not as an apprentice, but as a friend — for some time, Yellowfang made it clear how valuable she was as an assistant. When she eventually offered to take her on as an apprentice, Cinderpelt was overjoyed. She loved the crabby old cat and the work she did for her, and she was very dedicated to both.

I think the idea that her life was a tragedy because she switched to medicine cat training comes not from the first arc where her story actually takes place, but from Power of Three. When you’re years removed from a narrative, it’s very easy to think back on it and recontextualize it to fit into your own mindset. And that’s exactly what Power of Three did to her. In that arc, we do have a disabled protagonist forced to become a medicine cat (which is an even more complex topic), and Cinderpelt’s reincarnation of sorts as Cinderheart for the purpose of living the life she was supposedly meant to have. It’s... a bit of a tricky issue, because the notion that her life was a waste because of her disability is... troubling, to say the least. And the interpretation that her life was a waste because she didn’t cling stubbornly to the warrior path isn’t much better.

The reason this bothers me is because I feel, based on the books she's actually alive in, that she lived a full life (or would have, had she not died young). Cinderpelt wanted to be a warrior, yes. Her entire culture glorifies being a warrior more than anything. After her injury, she had to give up on that dream and pick up another. And she was a fantastic medicine cat! Before she was even officially made Yellowfang’s apprentice, she was praised for her enthusiasm, good memory, efficiency, and trustworthiness. It’s pointed out that she’s a quick learner and good with patients, and we see this regularly too. She was very determined, always going out of her way to do the right thing, even when she wasn’t allowed to. And this, combined with her medicinal skills, allowed her to touch so many lives. Cinderpelt didn’t accomplish the things she planned for when she was little, but her potential was not lost.

I’m not claiming that Warriors isn’t ableist at times. But I notice a tendency for folks to reframe every disabled character’s life as a sad tale of someone being forced to give up their dreams and live a worse life because no one believed in them — even when that isn’t really the case. Disability is a very complicated and sensitive subject that needs to be written with more care than it often is. But for a character to face limitations due to their disability, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s bad writing and/or the abled characters around them are terrible. For a character to lose something as big as their dream, their goals, their ability to keep up with their peers... I don’t believe that alone is unrealistic or cruel. What matters far more for me in a story is how the disabled character handles their limitations and where they go from there. Please understand, also, that sometimes handling limitations is not the same as overcoming them. Not everything can be overcome. What’s important is what you do with what you have.

I may not have a twisted leg, but I do have a neurological disorder that has impacted every area of my life at one point or another. My spasms have been severe enough to injure me many times, and for years I couldn’t learn to drive because I was too afraid (and often rightly so) that it would be unsafe with my condition. I eventually had to give up on my education and dream job because of my failing health in general. For a long while, I was afraid I could never amount to anything because I couldn’t do any of the things I’d been aiming for since childhood. But with time, my situation has changed. I aimed for more realistic goals, bearing in mind that my disorder is made far worse by stress and exhaustion. My symptoms are less severe these days because I’m no longer stressing myself out trying to force my way through a career that my disability is simply not compatible with. Things aren’t perfect. But I’m figuring out a better way to proceed.

I think you get the picture. What I’m trying to say, and what Cinderpelt’s story means to me... is that having to give up on something doesn’t mean you’ve wasted your life, it doesn’t mean that you’re worth any less, and it certainly doesn’t mean you’ve been defeated. When bad things happen, you may not be able to return to how life was before. And maybe that’s okay.

#this has been on my mind a lot recently especially after finishing dark river #because that's the book that confirms the cinderpelt / cinderheart connection #i know not everyone feels the same but that's okay #we all have our own ways of looking at the world and at fiction and that's kind of important #again i'm not claiming that this series handles disability perfectly because i know it definitely doesn't #but there are certain points where... i think people are misremembering situations #or just interpreting them really differently because they have a really different life and experiences #this is just my perspective based on my own experience #oh also i left it vague up there bc i didn't want to make this post all about my disorder but what i have is tourette syndrome #i can sometimes suppress my tics or focus them into one spot like my hand for a while but they do come out eventually #it's like trying to hold in a sneeze all day long. but with your entire body lol #so when i was in college i'd have only mild twitches during class and then come home and have painful full body tic attacks #like i said it's not as severe now as it was a couple years ago thanks to better stress management but i still have tics every single day #i know they're likely to get worse again when i start working full time so i'm looking for work that won't be impacted by that

[narrativedoomed]

I'll be honest w y'all i do not intend on catching up w yj any time soon

#i think the finale aired? i saw a tweet ab the finale #but i just. do not care i must admit #i was so excited ab this season this show was a comfort show but the aspects of the fandom ive seen lately just. not good don't vibe #i think a Lot of the s1 and waiting experience for me was fandom based so this show is very fandom oriented for me #and knowing that everyone ive seen talk ab the show on twitter is violently hating the main character that draws me to the show is. mhm #like dont get me wrong i like the girls too!! theyre all mostly pretty likable for me its just. #im at a. specific point in my transition rn where im more drawn to male characters just bc of like. where im at idk #i dont feel like i have to explain it tbh but i also do bc i have seen fans of this show get attacked for far less #but going into s2 ben was my #my main interest i guess the main focus for me and maybe that's stupid but its what it is #and so everything just being the entire fandom hating him is just. not making me wanna watch at all #like im not gonna speak on if they're justified in hating him or not bc i have no idea i havent seen it and its truly not the point #like theyre valid for hating him and im not tryna talk shit on them for it it just kinda has been so loud that im not having fun anymore #idk. idk where this is going or what the solution is like i love this show but genuinely #can not bring myself to watch bc i will not enjoy the moments my favorite character is on screen bc i will Know people r loudly anti him #so im just kinda staying away i guess #idk. i kinda want them to. kill him off so i dont have to deal w it anymore #but i also know that when they kill him off people will be loudly celebrating and maybe thats worse #idk. i think the only way for me to win here is to change how i feel ab ben and not care ab him and join the hate train but i don't want to

[carbonateddelusion]

I have. Thoughts. I am going to explode with cartoonish sound effects that accompany my demise. play the juggalo step song at my funeral and make my old-ass relatives dance to it

#[rotates edgar in my mind] a hee hee hooo #funy ... man... #isaac was the first to meet him n was hired there bc they're much more of a people person than eddie #then noah stayed a night or two... and ended up wanting to stick around so he was eventually hired too #just. funy tall man all alone in his hainted motel/hotel.... #the way the ghosts work has changed a lot so he has to do stuff like.. channel them. perform certain rituals so they're audible and visible #...to people who aren't him that is #the first time he built up enough strength to let isaac and noah see the kids ended up with him trying to focus #for as long as he could #so that isaac can see and talk to his lil sister... #and then he kept pushing himself and fucking fainted. so instead of having a normal emotional time #NOW isaac is freaking out because 1. ghosts exist 2. psychics are real 3. my dead baby sister is a ghost 4. my friend is a psychic #5. he just went unconscious and i don't know if he hurt himself or if he's breathing or anything 6. IF GHOSTS AND PSYCHICS ARE REAL DOES #-THAT MEAN THAT I WAS WRONG ABOUT OTHER THINGS LIKE HEAVEN AND HELL #and noah's just like. 'i'll. make sure eddie's okay you clearly need some space' #on one hand it's 'of course edgar did that. of course he pushed himself to the point of fainting to help someone' and #on the other it's 'you just made this way worse by trying to help' KSHQKBSKS. #mind you noah and isaac are both pretty.. critical? people when it comes to religion and spirituality #noah had a big crisis of faith when he was in his 20s bc of his dad dying #and isaac stopped believing in anything religious or spiritual altogether some time after them being a bb #noah believes in capital G God but not in things like ghosts #so when edgar tries to tell them they're like. 'oh no he's even more mentally ill than we thought' #and then they question everything they've ever believed in when he shows them the kiddos #you should totally ask me things abt how the ghosts work btw <3

[foone]

I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"

But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.

Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!

I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.

Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.

Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)

And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.

You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.

So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?

My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.

(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)

#ADHD

[rileyslibrary]

After suffering a gunshot wound, you wake up in a hospital bed with Ghost sitting by your side. Unfortunately, the effects of anaesthesia leave you unable to recognise him and, worse, confuse him with someone else.

A/N: Fluff. Based on a request I received a while ago. Hope you like it, anon!

———————————————————————

A machine on your left beeps rhythmically. The taste of something metallic lingers in your mouth, and the iodine smell stinks your nostrils. Your eyes open slowly, but the bright ceiling light forces them shut again. You lick your lips and attempt to swallow a couple of times. Dry. Your mouth is dry. You need water. Your hand moves towards your face, but a low, raspy voice advises you against it.

“Careful now,” it says, and a hand gently grabs your wrist. “Don’t pull the IV off.”

You turn your head towards the figure beside you and squint. It’s a man, but your blurry vision doesn’t help you identify him. Your eyes travel to your wrist and focus on the closest part of him: a skeleton’s hand.

You try to shake your hand off his grip, but it turns out futile. Frustrated, you give up and raise your middle finger at him.

“Not my time yet,” you declare. “Fuck off.”

“Pardon?” he asks.

“Not ready to go yet,” you reply, tucking your middle finger in your palm and lifting it back up again. “And also, fuck off.”

The man releases your wrist, placing your hand gently beside you. He clears his throat and leans forward. Though your vision remains blurry, you spot what looks like a human skull with a hood over it.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks, his tone softer.

“How am I feeling, love?” you repeat. “Did Hell improve their customer service?”

“I’m not-” The man begins but pauses. He sighs, shakes his head and rests his elbows on his thighs. “Never mind.”

“Where am I?” You ask.

“Hospital.” He replies. “You took a bullet.”

Directing your attention to your body, you feel a dull throb in your chest. You wince as your fingers brush against the bandages.

“You are joking.” You reply and slap your hand on the bed. “Why? How?”

“Well,” He says and tilts his head to the side. “You exchanged a few shots with the enemy, your gun ran out of bullets, his didn’t, and here we are.”

“My gun?” You ask, shocked. “I have a gun?”

“Several.” He nods.

“SEVERAL?” You shout. “Why would I possibly need several guns?”

“It’s your job, love.” He replies.

“My job is to have several guns?” you ask. “And shooting at people?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he explains, “but it’s mainly for defence.”

“Well,” you shrug and wince at the pain. “Doesn’t look like I’m that good at defence—especially for having several guns.”

“I was really worr—”

“Water,” you interrupt and gesture at your mouth. “I need water.”

“Doctor said it’s not the time for water yet,” he replies.

“Why?” you ask, pretending to check a non-existent wristwatch. “What time is it?”

“No, love,” he replies and muffles a chuckle. “Doctor said you need to wait until you have some water.”

“You throw the ‘love’ thing a little too freely,” you mumble, licking your lips and lifting your index finger. “I’d be really careful if I were you.”

“Really?” he asks, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”

“I,” you say and point at yourself, “got a boyfriend, thank you very much.”

“Oh,” he exclaims and tilts his head. “Is that so.”

“Yup,” you nod. “And he can kill you.”

“Can he?”

“Can?” You say, and a smug smile forms on your dry lips. “He will absolutely, one hundred and a thousand per cent kill you.”

“Is he that good?” He asks.

“I mean,” you shrug, motioning at the bandages on your chest. “He’s much better than I am.”

“Oh wow,” he exclaims and leans forward. “Is he as good of a boyfriend as he is a shooter?”

“Far from it,” you reply, letting your hand fall to your side.

The man doesn’t speak. He doesn’t seem that comfortable all of a sudden. He shuffles in his chair, trying to find a better position, and when he does, he clasps his hands together.

“Go on,” he finally says. “Spill it.”

“Ok, so,” you begin, “first things first, he doesn’t listen to me when I want to vent, and whenever he does, all he says is nonsense.”

“The lad gives you solutions,” he snaps, “and you call them nonsense?”

“I don’t want solutions, man,” you reply, shaking your head. “I want him to just listen to me.”

“Even if the solutions he provides are literally the answers to your suffering?”

“Even then.” You confirm.

“Gotcha,” he nods. “What else?”

“Oof,” you sigh, “how much time do you have?”

“I’m immortal,” he reminds you, “plus the next reaping is in five hours.”

“Oh boy,” you reply. “Business not going that well lately, huh?”

“Not many deaths to take care of,” he spits. “I guess some people could use some serious training when it comes to their aim.”

“Speaking of training,” you say, “he’s always at work and never spends much time with me.”

“The guy’s trying to spend as much time with you as he can, for fucks sake!” he shouts, throwing his hands up. “He even lied to get you on his team!”

“How do you know he put me on his team?” You ask.

“I keep a close eye on him.” He replies.

“What did he lie about?”

“Your precision in aiming,” he jokes and motions for you to continue. “Next one.”

“I can’t think of anything else,” you reply. “Other than he doesn’t say how much he loves me.”

“You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you?” He says, and his tone feels almost threatening. “He’s showing it to you daily; offering advice, keeping you close to him, even risking the possibility of being accused of nepotism for crying out loud! He doesn’t need to say it as well for you to know it!”

“It’s just nice to hear it sometimes,” you sigh and twist a thread from the bed sheet. You turn your head slightly toward him, and he lowers his head to the ground.

“How about you?” You ask. “You have a girlfriend?”

“I do,” he confirms.

“Shut up!” You shout, widening your eyes and immediately closing them back again. “Where did you guys meet?”

“Hell,” he replies. “Right in the pits of it.”

“How is she?” You ask.

“Perfect.” He states.

“Bullshit,” you murmur. “No one’s perfect.”

“She is to me.” He says, shrugging.

“Do you love her?” You ask.

“Absolutely,” he replies, nodding slowly. “One hundred and a thousand per cent I do.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #simon riley #cod mwii #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fluff

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

#writing #creative writing #writer problems #writing advice #writing community #writing a book #writing problems #novel writing #on writing #writing tips #writing help #writers on tumblr #writers block #female writers #writers of tumblr #writers blog #adhd writer

[daxite]

i'm so fucking tired about how the internet has to dissolve every discussion into some fucking black-and-white "us vs. them" shit

#dax rambles #i know it's always been a thing online it's the internet so what can you expect lol #but oh my god it's so much worse than ever before because most of this shit revolves around worshipping/flaming fucking e-celebs #this is about HBG's plagarism video by the way #like all people are taking from the video is the IH part and people are either completely god-defending IH or acting like he's this #scum of the earth plagarist and it's so annoying #the video itself was way fucking more than that and both sides arguing about it are wrong anyway lol #IH isn't innocent obviously that was blatant theft but it was something that he already adressed and amended + there aren't really any othe #examples of him doing this - yet - to my knowledge #just annoying how a legit interesting topic that is pretty important to the state of YT and the internet as a whole has just been fucking #boiled down into more e-celeb drama once again #i can see why it riled people up because i'll be honest that section about IH felt extremely biased just because HBG doesn't like his #content or apparent “politics” and there was a lot of shit that really didn't need to be mentioned and felt very petty which sort of took #away from the points he was making against him lol #again not defending what IH did i do think it was obvious theft and it was very shitty how he didn't apologise or address what actually #happened but there was a lot of stuff HBG brought up that really rubbed me in the wrong way cause it felt very unessecery and even #hypocritical because he brought up the politics shit for no reason when he literally gave the first guy shit for doing that lol #but yeah i still think people aren't really taking away what they should've from that video since the IH was a very short section compared #to the focus on james and the overall subject of plagarism and erasure of original writers/artists especially marginalised creators

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How lock-in hurts design

Berliners: Otherland has added a second date (Jan 28) for my book-talk after the first one sold out - book now!

If you've ever read about design, you've probably encountered the idea of "paving the desire path." A "desire path" is an erosion path created by people departing from the official walkway and taking their own route. The story goes that smart campus planners don't fight the desire paths laid down by students; they pave them, formalizing the route that their constituents have voted for with their feet.

Desire paths aren't always great (Wikipedia notes that "desire paths sometimes cut through sensitive habitats and exclusion zones, threatening wildlife and park security"), but in the context of design, a desire path is a way that users communicate with designers, creating a feedback loop between those two groups. The designers make a product, the users use it in ways that surprise the designer, and the designer integrates all that into a new revision of the product.

This method is widely heralded as a means of "co-innovating" between users and companies. Designers who practice the method are lauded for their humility, their willingness to learn from their users. Tech history is strewn with examples of successful paved desire-paths.

Take John Deere. While today the company is notorious for its war on its customers (via its opposition to right to repair), Deere was once a leader in co-innovation, dispatching roving field engineers to visit farms and learn how farmers had modified their tractors. The best of these modifications would then be worked into the next round of tractor designs, in a virtuous cycle:

https://securityledger.com/2019/03/opinion-my-grandfathers-john-deere-would-support-our-right-to-repair/

But this pattern is even more pronounced in the digital world, because it's much easier to update a digital service than it is to update all the tractors in the field, especially if that service is cloud-based, meaning you can modify the back-end everyone is instantly updated. The most celebrated example of this co-creation is Twitter, whose users created a host of its core features.

Retweets, for example, were a user creation. Users who saw something they liked on the service would type "RT" and paste the text and the link into a new tweet composition window. Same for quote-tweets: users copied the URL for a tweet and pasted it in below their own commentary. Twitter designers observed this user innovation and formalized it, turning it into part of Twitter's core feature-set.

Companies are obsessed with discovering digital desire paths. They pay fortunes for analytics software to produce maps of how their users interact with their services, run focus groups, even embed sneaky screen-recording software into their web-pages:

https://www.wired.com/story/the-dark-side-of-replay-sessions-that-record-your-every-move-online/

This relentless surveillance of users is pursued in the name of making things better for them: let us spy on you and we'll figure out where your pain-points and friction are coming from, and remove those. We all win!

But this impulse is a world apart from the humility and respect implied by co-innovation. The constant, nonconsensual observation of users has more to do with controlling users than learning from them.

That is, after all, the ethos of modern technology: the more control a company can exert over its users ,the more value it can transfer from those users to its shareholders. That's the key to enshittification, the ubiquitous platform decay that has degraded virtually all the technology we use, making it worse every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

When you are seeking to control users, the desire paths they create are all too frequently a means to wrestling control back from you. Take advertising: every time a service makes its ads more obnoxious and invasive, it creates an incentive for its users to search for "how do I install an ad-blocker":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

More than half of all web-users have installed ad-blockers. It's the largest consumer boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

But zero app users have installed ad-blockers, because reverse-engineering an app requires that you bypass its encryption, triggering liability under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. This law provides for a $500,000 fine and a 5-year prison sentence for "circumvention" of access controls:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/12/youre-holding-it-wrong/#if-dishwashers-were-iphones

Beyond that, modifying an app creates liability under copyright, trademark, patent, trade secrets, noncompete, nondisclosure and so on. It's what Jay Freeman calls "felony contempt of business model":

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

This is why services are so horny to drive you to install their app rather using their websites: they are trying to get you to do something that, given your druthers, you would prefer not to do. They want to force you to exit through the gift shop, you want to carve a desire path straight to the parking lot. Apps let them mobilize the law to literally criminalize those desire paths.

An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a felony to block ads in it (or do anything else that wrestles value back from a company). Apps are web-pages where everything not forbidden is mandatory.

Seen in this light, an app is a way to wage war on desire paths, to abandon the cooperative model for co-innovation in favor of the adversarial model of user control and extraction.

Corporate apologists like to claim that the proliferation of apps proves that users like them. Neoliberal economists love the idea that business as usual represents a "revealed preference." This is an intellectually unserious tautology: "you do this, so you must like it":

https://boingboing.net/2024/01/22/hp-ceo-says-customers-are-a-bad-investment-unless-they-can-be-made-to-buy-companys-drm-ink-cartridges.html

Calling an action where no alternatives are permissible a "preference" or a "choice" is a cheap trick – especially when considered against the "preferences" that reveal themselves when a real choice is possible. Take commercial surveillance: when Apple gave Ios users a choice about being spied on – a one-click opt of of app-based surveillance – 96% of users choice no spying:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2021/05/96-of-us-users-opt-out-of-app-tracking-in-ios-14-5-analytics-find/

But then Apple started spying on those very same users that had opted out of spying by Facebook and other Apple competitors:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Neoclassical economists aren't just obsessed with revealed preferences – they also love to bandy about the idea of "moral hazard": economic arrangements that tempt people to be dishonest. This is typically applied to the public ("consumers" in the contemptuous parlance of econospeak). But apps are pure moral hazard – for corporations. The ability to prohibit desire paths – and literally imprison rivals who help your users thwart those prohibitions – is too tempting for companies to resist.

The fact that the majority of web users block ads reveals a strong preference for not being spied on ("users just want relevant ads" is such an obvious lie that doesn't merit any serious discussion):

https://www.iccl.ie/news/82-of-the-irish-public-wants-big-techs-toxic-algorithms-switched-off/

Giant companies attained their scale by learning from their users, not by thwarting them. The person using technology always knows something about what they need to do and how they want to do it that the designers can never anticipate. This is especially true of people who are unlike those designers – people who live on the other side of the world, or the other side of the economic divide, or whose bodies don't work the way that the designers' bodies do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

Apps – and other technologies that are locked down so their users can be locked in – are the height of technological arrogance. They embody a belief that users are to be told, not heard. If a user wants to do something that the designer didn't anticipate, that's the user's fault:

https://www.wired.com/2010/06/iphone-4-holding-it-wrong/

Corporate enthusiasm for prohibiting you from reconfiguring the tools you use to suit your needs is a declaration of the end of history. "Sure," John Deere execs say, "we once learned from farmers by observing how they modified their tractors. But today's farmers are so much stupider and we are so much smarter that we have nothing to learn from them anymore."

Spying on your users to control them is a poor substitute asking your users their permission to learn from them. Without technological self-determination, preferences can't be revealed. Without the right to seize the means of computation, the desire paths never emerge, leaving designers in the dark about what users really want.

Our policymakers swear loyalty to "innovation" but when corporations ask for the right to decide who can innovate and how, they fall all over themselves to create laws that let companies punish users for the crime of contempt of business-model.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/24/everything-not-mandatory/#is-prohibited

Image: Belem (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Desire_path_%2819811581366%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #desire paths #design #drm #everything not mandatory is prohibited #apps #ip #innovation #user innovation #technological self-determination #john deere #twitter #felony contempt of business model

[mariespen]

Who? ˳༄꠶

jealous!Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader ༄꠶ summary: “No way am I sending my girl on a study date with another man." warnings: very very mild sexual concepts, jealous Rafe

based on this request!

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Rafe Cameron was looking right at you with a death glare, the kind of look you’d pin on horrible people who were only doing horrible things. You’d think your boyfriend would understand that being in college requires unavoidable group work, which leads to unavoidable conversations with people you would much rather not know at all. Naturally, you were wrong. Devastatingly wrong.

“I don’t get it.” He said plainly for the fifteenth time that night, “You don’t even need this class if I’m honest.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to focus more on packing your things rather than the hole he was staring into your back.

“Don’t do that shit.. c’mon baby..” Rafe said, getting up to stand closer to you, a persuading hand on your hip, “M’working so hard to give you a life where you don’t gotta work and-“

“Rafe, we’ve talked about this too many times.” You cut him off in hopes to finally shut him up.

“Well why don’t we talk about it again,” He said, a tiny smile on his face, “Like right now? Over dinner?”

“Baby you know that my group members will kill me if I don’t pull through.” You shrugged past him, walking to put your shoes on.

You weren’t wearing anything near special. Sweatpants and one of Rafe’s oversized hoodies were all that you were planning on showing off. But in Rafe’s eyes, HE would fuck you in that, so who’s to say that no one else would? Naturally, he carries a heavy bias considering that Rafe would fuck you in anything, but he says ‘that’s not the point.’

“So what, you’re gonna spend all night with people you don’t even like?” He asked with a scoff.

You gave him an annoyed nod, trying to prove your point.

“That’s gotta be like.. bad for your uh.. mental health. You should stay in.”

“Rafe stop-“ You started before getting a ping on your phone. You groaned to finish the sentence, storming off to get your shoes on.

“What?” Rafe called after you, quietly shuffling behind before picking your phone up and looking at the recent notifications.

Connor: When r u getting here?

“Who’s this?” Rafe asked, pointing to the phone with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

“One of my group members, love.” You said, trying to stifle a giggle over how protective he was over you.

“Another man? Absolutely not,” He said, turning away from you to block the door out of your shared apartment before continuing his rant, “No way am I sending my girl on a study date with another man. Who do you think-“

You pushed past him, backpack already slung over your shoulders as you made your escape to the front door.

“Nope.” He said plainly, grabbing the back of your bag and making you look at him, his fingers tracing your jaw and holding your eyes to his.

“Rafe..” You whined, but his touch was strict.

“You’re mine, baby. Not Connor’s, a’ight?” He said, brushing hair from your face.

“I’m yours.” You repeated, standing on your tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

His eyes softened and he thought he got you wrapped around his finger, pulling away to look at your flushed face. Instead, you darted to the door when his touch weakened, hand on the knob before Rafe could get another word in.

“Love you!” You said, closing it before everything caught up to him.

The group work went fine and almost exactly like you thought. A long session and a gut wrenching feeling of exhaustion afterwards. It’s never your favorite event but there were worse things that could happen. Things like walking back into your apartment after narrowly escaping your boyfriend’s possessive hand. 

You opened the door quietly, which was already unnecessary. Of course he was still wide awake, waiting for you like a father punishing his daughter for sneaking out. He was sitting on the couch, arms crossed and scowling at you.

“What the fuck?” He asked, getting up to meet you at the front door.

You shoved your shoes off, setting down your backpack and walking closer to Rafe. “M’tired baby..” You said, making every attempt to walk past the intimidating block he made in the hallway.

“No, no no.. this isn’t how it’s gonna work,” Rafe said, using both of his hands to hold your shoulders and forcing you to stand right in front of him as he lowered his voice, “Can’t just do that baby.. a’ight?”

“Sorry..” You whispered, breaking free of his hold on your shoulders and instead pulling yourself into him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

You could feel the slightly annoyed laugh that bubbled from him, but you could also feel the chaste kiss that he left on the top of your head. Rafe’s soft spot for you would always shine through his anger. You let yourself melt into his arms while you contemplated falling asleep standing.

“C’mon..” He whispered into you, equally as tired from staying up and waiting for you to come back to him.

You felt him pick you up cautiously, kissing your cheek as you let your eyes start to close.

——————————————————————

The next morning was a beautiful Saturday, which of course was the day you woke up to about 15 messages from your project’s group chat. Somehow you managed to squirm away from Rafe’s death grip over your body to check your phone. Casual conversations relating to different parts of the project and other things that you wanted nothing to do with flashed across the screen.

Over your shoulder you heard Rafe groan and felt him reach for where you weren’t. He looked around for you, watching groggily as you typed out a response on your phone.

“Baby..” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry.. group project.” You whispered, giving in and letting yourself melt back into his arms.

“At 9 in the morning?” Rafe mumbled into you, an annoyed sigh died in his throat when you ran your fingers through his hair.

Sleep clouded your mind as the two of you held each other close again. He wasn’t trying to show it, but his possessiveness and jealousy were leaking out of him like a faucet.

“G’morning princess..” You heard Rafe whisper from above you, brushing the lazy hair from your cheeks.

You groaned and shifted, trying to find the warmth in the bed now that Rafe had gotten up.

“Let’s get lunch, hm?” He asked, gently moving you to face him again.

You nodded, trying to nod away the urge to dive back under the blankets.

Getting ready wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, just because Rafe had already bought you the perfect outfit and you didn’t have to fight off your hair as much as you normally did. Whenever you got ready, Rafe would always finish before you and sit on the edge of the bed, admiring your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your cheeks would flush up and you could never get your blush right anymore because he somehow always had your face a pink shade of red.

Rafe grabbed your bag for you, a small purse that fit your pretty dress. He also went to get your phone from its shameful place at the bedside table because of course you had forgotten to charge it last night.

One text had lit up your screen and his eyes narrowed the moment he saw it was from Connor.

“Baby, why is Connor texting you?” He asked, walking to your spot in the bathroom and shoving the phone in your face to quickly get your attention.

You took the phone, opening the notification while Rafe watched from over your shoulder.

Connor: Hey, I have some ideas for the paper. You want to meet up to talk? I was thinking a Cafe or something.

You could feel the angry red heat of jealousy seeping out of Rafe’s body.

“I told you.” He said, taking the phone from you and staring at the message again, almost dumbfounded at Connor’s audacity.

“M’not going.” You said plainly, looking at him with a lightly apologetic look.

“Damn right you’re not.” He replied, throwing your phone onto the bed and looking at you with an angry glare staring down at your face.

You watched an idea form in his head. It was easily not anything good considering the way his lips turned up in a thin smile and his gaze moved between you and the phone in a heartbeat.

“Y’know.. I really don’t want my girl missn’ anything..” He trailed off, walking to where he threw your phone originally.

“Rafe..” You tried to protest, not fully understanding where his head was at.

“No.. I think I gotta be a good boyfriend here.” He nodded to himself before looking at you with an unforgettable smirk.

“Baby I don’t want to go.” You said, walking up to him and trying to read his cocky expression.

“You, go?” He asked with faux confusion, cocking his head to the side, “No no, you’ve got it all wrong.” 

Rafe stood up, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles before looking back down at you. Now it was your turn to be confused, furrowing your eyebrows.

“You think I’m stupid, baby?” He mocks, kissing your up jaw and stopping by your ear, “M’gonna go in for you.”

Whatever hint of a smile you had on your face slowly disappeared as realization dawned on you.

“I think I’ll text him right now and let him know I’m on my way. Give him a nice surprise when he realizes it’s not the pretty little girl that he wants.” Rafe said slyly, pulling back with a malicious smile.

“Then he and I can really talk, hm?”

The next day, Connor dropped the class.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

#mariespen #outer banks #rafe cameron #obx fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe drabble #rafe cameron blurb #jealous!rafe cameron #jealous rafe #obx x reader #outer banks imagine #obx fanfiction #obx