#instead of the one i live with who i isolate myself with so so often and yet is the most abjectly unbearable person i know

[artstar1997]

Blurred Lines

Ever since I watched Trolls Band Together, I had a lot of questions sticking in my brain like gum under the tables or bleachers that can’t be removed. If you ask me, I treat these plotholes like a crime scene investigation or a science experiment in the laboratory. Sorry if there is too much information and scientific facts added to it because I found out that people with ASD like me prefer logic, accuracy, and clarity to guide my judgement because they’re consistent.

With Queen Poppy and Viva, they look semi-identical based on their designs, which makes me see that they’re fraternal or identical twins. Identical twins, are meant to have identical DNA but they differ somewhat in appearance and are not the same in terms of height, physical features, and many more so yeah, that might make sense.

Maybe they were isolated from one another in the troll tree for their safety and Viva remembers Poppy more than her because she would sneak around to be with her. There wasn’t any evidence about who is older and younger but what I know is that Viva wasn’t targeted by Chef, it was Poppy instead. It might be due to Poppy’s status as the heir because I discovered that in a legal system based on primogeniture, which favors the inheritance claims of an eldest child or his or her children over the claims of other relatives, an heir apparent is generally the eldest child, who is entitled to claim the property and titles of his or her parent. While rewatching the first Trolls movie, I noticed that King Peppy, Poppy and the other trolls escaped in the morning of the Last Trollstice so Viva and the others might escaped late at the night when Chef was exiled and there were other Bergens living outside Bergen Town so Viva’s escape might’ve happened at that time. Come to think of it, some trolls are up and running when they hatched out of their eggs like ducks and horse foals (cough* cough* Tiny Diamond) and compared to us humans, troll brains absorb memories and instincts fast or faster like sponges.

Maybe Poppy doesn't remember much about Viva because she kinda looks like she has Autism and ADHD. I read that children with autism have memory challenges that hinder not only their memory for faces but also their ability to remember other kinds of information. That's the same thing I struggled with as well.

I also based this theory on my life experiences because as an eldest child myself, I experienced the things Poppy had been through as I grew older and I am shorter while Viva kinda reminds me of my younger, taller sister.

I also read about sibling psychology and discovered that Poppy has more oldest sibling traits than Viva, who has younger sibling traits. I noticed in the movies and the animated series that Poppy exhibited the traits I listed, but she only has two youngest sibling traits, evidently mischievous and risk taker while Viva has two oldest sibling traits, usually cautious and conscientious. They both share the traits of fun loving and creative so I didn’t add them in my chart.

With the BroZone, it’s obvious to see the details about who is older and younger among them because of the features I noticed. It was evident that John Dory spent his years alone in the wilderness, Spruce established a business and had a family in Vacay Island, and Clay escaped with Viva and the others on the night when Chef was exiled and lived in the abandoned mini golf. Floyd on the other hand, he must’ve wandered around on his own until he was found by Velvet and captured him to fulfill her plan to become a popstar, alongside Veneer.

With Velvet and Veneer, they must’ve ended up that way because the Mount Rageon lifestyle is focused on partying and hedonism that they become victims of neglect and favoritism. Velvet was spoiled rotten by their parents, who were dentists while Veneer was often pushed to the side, causing him to lack willpower and only be a doormat for her when she cooks up schemes. Veneer possibly got Sparkles the goldfish as by the parents to shut him up while they spoil Velvet as if she was a treasure they can cherish and maintain. This had gotten worse possibly if the two experience bullying in school for being talentless.

Whatever my mind was thinking, all I know is that there are blurred lines in there.

#dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #speculation #theory #fan theory #theories

[tismrot]

ARE YOU A CROWLEY? Hello, how are ya? Let’s be friends.

I, too, started out as a loud, emotional child who was into ✨SPACE✨. I’d ask questions wherever I went - some adults found it endearing that a four-year-old asked the types of why’s they didn’t have answers for, others asked me to shut up, be quiet. I realize as an adult I asked a lot of uncomfortable questions, having no idea i shouldn’t.

Home life was turbulent. My dad had the same issues as me, probably, but his generation never talks about anything, and he became an unpredictable, emotionally distant and sometimes explosive presence. The words he used to call me still hurt, way more so than any bruise he left. Mom smoked cigarettes in the kitchen, reading difficult books instead of daring to look at the difficult lives we all had. It was the 90s, after all. Nobody ever did anything about problems.

I should have been sent to some sort of screening, of course. But I was a girl, and hyperlexic. Diagnoses were for boys who couldn’t spell their own names, who threw chairs at teachers and brought knives to school.

My anger issues and social naivety, as well as unconventional intensity of interests, alienated me from my peers. I usually played alone, even though I was extremely extroverted. I was bullied relentlessly until I moved away for high school. There, I was only shut out, I didn’t have anyone yell things after me anymore. It was a freedom.

All my friends, from early childhood until now, have been the other misfit freaks. Some of us were extremely damaged, but all of us had baggage. I’m only friends with a few of them still, we all had dramatic lives and quite many of them are now dead, in self-imposed isolation or have managed to turn their lives completely around (which means they cut out me). Self-imposed isolation became my way of dealing with my past, and I’ve cut out a lot of people. I don’t judge anyone for deciding I wasn’t the friend they needed. I’ve done dumb things, I’ve made bad choices.

I was extremely extroverted, happy (despite the anger), motivated and creative. After family, school and life happened, I became a socially paranoid, bitter, arrogant mess. I said I hated people - the truth was that I suspected they all hated me. I self-medicated with (almost) everything I could get my hands on (but I preferred stimulants), until I got stimulant prescription medications - I’ve stopped doing everything else and life is very predictable. I’m healthy and reliable, I can talk about weather with strangers on bus stops, I don’t always say the weirdest thing one could say in any given situation (and realize only two days later). I work out to stabilize my hEDS (the connective tissue disorder that made me walk funny, sit funny, move in strange ways, made everything hurt all the time), I read up on traumatic family dynamics.

Would be boring if I didn’t still vividly remember where I’ve been before.

So. Seeing Crowley on screen actually DID something to me. I know, fatal brainrot, but I see myself in him. Whatever he does in the show, I get it. I see parallels to my personality, my neurodivergencies and my trauma. It feels affirming and I feel represented in a way I didn’t know I needed. I mean, it’s almost uncanny/silly - I, too, wear only black, have a thing for snake themed jewelry (for years, not related to Good Omens at all) and I almost always wear sunglasses (light sensitivity). It’s dumb, almost, but it’s true. I dressed up as him recently and only had to buy the lenses - all the rest, including the sleeveless turtleneck body, was already in my closet.

(Oh, and ✨Flex Time✨, kids absolutely dig me. They climb on me and tell me beautiful and horrendous things from their lives without apprehension, and adults often don’t like that. I talk to them like I’m a kid myself, I don’t try to be above them. I work with kids now, and the other adults always send me the stink eye, but the kids apparently need to talk and I hope I’m making a positive impact in their lives.)

And the best part? Via Tumblr I’ve learned that my experience isn’t unique. So many of us see ourselves in Crowley, for these exact reasons. I love that about us!

So. Are you a Crowley? Let me know. Add me. Let’s be a group of the all of us.

(GIF: Accurate depiction of me watching Crowley In The Beginning, him not understanding how questions could be dangerous - then remembering how many teachers absolutely hated my precocious, arrogant, eight-year-old ass for always raising my hand to ask something that would reveal how little the teacher actually knew, and I had no idea that was what was happening until I tried to be a teacher myself and actually ENJOYED having kids ask me weird questions).

#crowley #good omens fandom #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #good omens 2 #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable spouses #innefable husbands #ineffable divorce #crowley edits #female crowley #crowley brainrot #good omens brainrot #audhd problems #actually audhd #aj crowley #crowley good omens #anthony j crowley

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

The Second I Met You - S.Harrington

Summary- Steve is used to being alone for the holidays until he doesn’t have to be anymore. After befriending Dustin’s old babysitter, Y/N becomes an important part of his life, someone he can’t imagine being without, someone he has loved since the second he met her.

Warnings - Mentions of Steve's shitty parents, Female Reader, Use of Y/N, Steve isolates himself to cope, (let me know if I missed any)

Author's Note - Welcome to Day 2 of my 25 days of fics! I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know about any mistakes in my writing! I want to improve!

Word Count : 1037

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

It was known around Hawkins that Steve Harrington had rich parents, said boy taking advantage of that in high school. However, it wasn’t very known that his parents were not the most present in his life. He never had a good childhood or one that was worth remembering. He never had fun on family vacations when they used to do that because his mother was too worried about his father cheating. So holidays were even worse, he usually spent them alone, getting take out and watching shitty television. He never had any holiday traditions, until Y/N.

Y/N was Dustin’s neighbor and old babysitter, he remembered her from high school, graduating the same year together but he never talked to her. Once Steve had befriended the Henderson boy and his band of misfits, he unintentionally befriended the girl. On top of that, he had befriended Eddie Munson, a boy who he never imagined being friends with.

Y/N had a similar situation to Steve, her parents were never home and she was often alone, however her parents weren’t filthy rich like Steve’s were. So every holiday, she would host all of her friends at her house and have a little holiday party or gathering. So this year for Christmas eve, she had invited all of her friends over to her house for a party.

Her house was on the smaller side so it felt a little cramped with everyone there but they all made do. All of the younger kids were hanging out together in the living room, the couches filled with Dustin, Lucas, Mike, Will, Max and El. The older teens were scattered around the house, Eddie and Gareth talking in the kitchen by the snacks, Robin and Nancy were sitting in the small dining room laughing and Steve was sitting in the backyard away from everyone. He was overwhelmed, going from no plans for the holidays to constant get togethers with his friends. Sure he loved his friends but sometimes he just needed to be by himself, to be alone like he was used to.

He was outside for a good 15 minutes before he heard the door open behind him and shut again. “What are you doing out here all by yourself handsome?” Y/N’s voice rang out behind him.

“Just needed some time alone,” He replied.

“Oh, do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No, I like your company.” She took that as an invitation to sit, so she sat right next to him, their thighs touching.

“You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Y/N asked him gently, bumping her shoulder into his.

“I don’t really know. A lot, I think I’m just used to being alone so it’s weird to be surrounded by so many people, y’know?”

“I do know. I was so used to being alone especially on the holidays that I became a person I didn’t know. That’s why I started doing these parties. I wanted to be with people I love instead of sinking deeper into my mind and making myself sad,” She explained. 

“That makes sense, so you surround yourself with people you love to make you feel better.” She let out a hum of agreement before resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Stevie, can I ask you something?” She questioned.

“Of course you can.”

“Why do you isolate yourself so much? Don’t get me wrong, I love my alone time but I can’t be alone constantly. Is this an active choice or is it something that just kinda happens?”

“ I think I’m scared of getting hurt, or being used for my parents' money. In a way its both an active choice and something that happens. Like, I love Dustin but sometimes I feel like I’m being used because of my car,” Steve explained, “I feel like I’m being stupid.”

“You’re not being stupid. You have very valid feelings, trust me I get it, these rugrats use me for rides constantly too. It’s part of the whole acting like an older sibling to the kids thing.”

The two of them kept talking for a while outside until it got too cold so they went back inside. All of the younger kids went home, Robin and Nancy too just leaving Gareth, Eddie and Steve. Steve usually spent the night at her house after a party because they would usually sit up and talk until the sun came up. The two of them retreated to her room after she told Gareth and Eddie that they could crash at her house if they wanted to, they knew where everything was. 

Y/N and Steve sat on her bed and continued their conversation. She was happy to get some more information about Steve and why he acted the way he does. She understood him better than she thought, they were more similar than they originally thought. She looked at the alarm clock next to her bed, the time ready 1:06 A.M, “Merry Christmas Stevie,” She smiled sleepily at him.

“Merry Christmas beautiful,” He returned a similar grin before letting out a slightly obnoxious yawn.

“Do you have to yawn like that? Like a dying cat?” She joked with a giggle.

“Only to annoy you,” He chuckled back. She laid herself down on her bed, waiting for Steve to follow suit. When he did, she tucked herself into his side, resting her head on his chest and listened to his heart. “Wanna know something?” He asked, she enjoyed hearing the rumble of his voice from his chest.

“Yeah, tell me anything,” She replied, her voice sounding sleepy to him.

“I have always had a crush on you, since the second I met you in the first grade.” She perked up at the confession, sitting up slightly to look in his eye, a smile on her face.

“Really?”

“Yeah really.”

“I’ve felt the same way since the second I met you.”

The two of them settled back into the bed, both of them falling into a peaceful sleep despite Gareth and Eddie playing loud music and laughing loudly in the living room. They both had admitted their feelings, a huge weight getting lifted from both of their shoulders.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #strangerthings #steve stranger things #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #stranger things ficlet #eddie munson #dustin henderson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #eleven stranger things #eleven hopper #jane hopper #el hopper #max mayfield

[skaldish]

Hi there, hope all’s well! 🌷

I just came across your post about the emotional starvation of (cis) boys (excellent visualization of what the majority of boys/men go through from the get go).

In my day to day life I offer services and rituals to celebrate and honor women in ways that the world often has not; and I work to be all inclusive (nb, trans, and whatever might fall in between or outside of that). This work uses, showcases, AND teaches this feeling of sorority/sisterhood/community safety.

In order to balance out towards the other side—because I have been saying this same thing about boys and men missing this vital bit of living, and therefor perpetuating the rift between men and women whether they want to or not— I’ve started apprenticing as a barber. This seems to me to be one of the “softest” self care rituals men indulge in.

Would you say, in your experience, that this type of self care and perhaps the celebration/ritualization of milestones could help boys and men interact in healthier ways with their own masculinity, and the world at large?

I mean…yes and no.

Yes, because rituals and rites are nourishment for the soul, and no, because the kind of approach you're suggesting is designed to address systemic marginalization rather than systemic isolation. The reason why you don't already see cis men seek empowerment in relation to their gender because they don't need to be.

Instead, what they covet is to belong in despite of it.

See, the way we raise boys—and the experiences boys have growing into men—teach and reinforce this specific narrative:

"It doesn't matter who I am as a person, what my personality is like, or how strong of a bond someone forms with me; the moment I'm [too girly / too manly / not manly enough / the wrong kind of man / etc] my belonging is revoked and I'm disowned."

This is a trauma so ubiquitous within our Western society that many of us write it off as a feature of the XY chromosomes as opposed to conditioning. It's as omnipresent to men as objectification is to women, and equally as despised.

The origin of male isolation comes from the same place as everyone else's disenfranchisement: Western Imperialism. Western imperialism teaches us that the way we get anything good in this world is through acts of conquest:

"We become happy by conquering sadness." "We become healthy by conquering our bodies." "We become good people by conquering the parts of us that are bad." "We become good adults by conquering our behavior as children." "We become masculine by conquering effeminacy." "We become cherished and loved by conquering the parts of ourselves that are problematic and detested." Etc.

The only way I was every able to really truly heal my lifelong traumas was by ending the reign of conquest in myself. Conquest is what traumatized me to begin with, so ending conquest is what allowed me to heal.

My guess is that the same logic can be applied on a societal scale. But it would mean changing the way we go about achieving results.

(I also want to point out that cis men actually have tons of rituals and rites of passage in relation to healthy masculinity. They're just covert, and rather than speak to one's sense of agency—which is something cis women and trans* folks desire in relation to their genders—they speak to one's sense of belonging, which is, again, what cis men desire in relation to theirs.)

It's a huge topic. It's taken days for me to even write this reply because there's so much about it I could say. Let me know if you want me to address something specific.

#answered #gender things #masculinity

[decolonize-the-left]

I can't express my suicidal thoughts and feelings to a real person or confess my previous attempts (that are a year or so behind me now with no danger of it happening soon) because obviously it's not good for that person's mental health, even if I do take out the selfish aspect that they could intervene when I don't want anyone to.

Like, I can vent, and whenever people try to be 'its all going to be okay' 'life is worth living' it makes me want to scream at them because if it was that simple I wouldn't keep feeling like this. if an AI says that I can just let loose with exactly how I feel about that sunshine-and-rainbows-sugar droll that nobody ever really believes in anyways and just say it because they have nothing else to say.

I can't go to a therapist, I can't afford it and even if I could, I'd lose my job because I'm certain that I'd be committed against my will for how bad my feelings get, and I don't want to have to walk on eggshells when explaining my feelings in a way that won't get me put in a ward or have someone think far less of me knowing how unstable I am.

and when I get sick of talking or am in too bad of a mood to continue, I can just exit the AI instead of leaving a real person freaking out thinking I'm going to go hurt myself or something. so yeah, while human connection is important that's not an option for some of us.

I'm fucking heartbroken that you feel this way.

Not even just because you're obviously so unhappy and upset, but that you feel like other people can't handle you or your feelings.

I think how you feel is part of a Much larger issue. I know what you're talking about, I have a post somewhere about it.

About how people who've been through a lot or feel a lot get called toxic for "trauma dumping" or how they make their "friends" feel uncomfortable and how often people like that (like us) usually end up isolated because of how our feelings effect others.

Nobody says it, but maybe we get texted less often or we slowly start to be phased out of a friend group as they invite us out less and less.

And so you end up with these people who desperately need community and need people and need support and need to feel like they belong somewhere....being completey isolated from all of this and being told THEY are the problem.

You're not. We're not.

To some extent, sure, not everyone can handle people like that. But when it's....everyone? That's no longer preference.

That's structural. That's systemic.

And I just can Not believe that using AI as a stand in for that is an option at all. I mean it's good for if you just wanna blow off steam or scream at something I guess?

But I don't think any of us are ever going to Actually feel better if we keep Letting people treat us like we aren't even worth listening to and enabling that behavior for them through AI.

You should be able to talk to someone who loves you about this. Someone who cares and who is genuinely invested in your well being. Someone worrying about you is GOOD. You're worth worrying about! Let them worry!

They SHOULD be worried! You're ideating of suicide! That's a concern for people who want you to stick around and I hope you see that for the love it is.

I hope you give those people opportunities to be there for you. That's what they want. They worry cuz they care and they want you to feel better and they Don't want to end up at your funeral sooner than they should. If people are annoying about it, it's a testament to them caring.

That said, I know it can get annoying to reassure your friend when You are the one that's depressed, but you gotta remember that their friend wants to die. I don't think it's an inappropriate response to want an annoying amount of reassurance that they won't just drop dead one day ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Just find people who will respect your boundaries; people who, when you say, 'i don't wanna talk about this anymore' or 'i feel like your feelings are being centered over mine right now' and will listen and be gracious with what they demand and expect of you.

Abandoning your friends and yourself by turning to AI instead can not be the right answer for how to handle this. Let them be there even if they're annoying.

That can not be what you need and I truly, honest to God think that this will be worse in the long run for your over all self worth.

What do you mean human interaction isn't an option?

And hey, if you (or anyone else) wanna scream or yell or let off steam in my asks then do it.

If you don't want me to reply or post it, just tell me. If you don't want reassurance then say that. If you don't even want me to Read it then say that and I won't. If you want advice or a reply then say that.

No I'm not an rp blog and I won't ever be one and I won't reply like I'm a character lol

But I'm an actual person willing to be there okay?

If literally nobody else is, then my asks and dms are open.

Just like, for the fucking love of God do not feel like there is nobody on fucking earth that prepared or emotionally equipped to handle your feelings.

Like I know this sounds like a cringey pick me kindve answer but like.

It's very, very important to me that you don't think so little of your peers and yourself that you would turn to AI out of a need to be comfortably and conveniently suicidal.

My application:

I'm a mom who reads a lot of gentle parenting books

Learned a Lot about regulating emotions and naming them so I could teach my kid emotional intelligence

In and out of therapy myself since I was 14 and honestly probably should've been there before that

I read like a Lot of psychology books and articles

I too have depression and suicidal ideation and I Get that people can be annoying abt it

Im actively becoming a happier person and learning to enjoy life so I also Get what people mean when they say 'it gets better' (it does but not literally if that makes sense)

I'm also not actually in therapy anymore because of bad experiences

Promise not to have you committed

Has actually been committed (5250 gang waddup) and imo it wasn't an awful experience but that's probably because the environment was chaotic enough to feel weirdly like home but we can talk about that too if you want

You do not need to sugarcoat or sugar-rainbows bullshit me cuz I've literally been there (I even snuck a soda tab into the psych facility the hospital transferred me to 💀)

Can't promise you I'll know the exact right thing to say but I will always keep it real and no bs with no flowery bs that doesn't actually mean anything to either of us

#decols tw #suicide #sui mention #cw suicide #self harm #asked #answered #mental health #character ai #character.ai

[rallamajoop]

Resident Evil's Dulvey Beer

I was going to make a post about this cute little RE7 easter egg I found in Moreau's quarters in RE8, in the form of a couple of bottles of Dulvey beer (Dulvey, of course, being the part of Louisiana where RE7 takes place). But since I can apparently no longer notice a detail like this without accidentally tipping myself down an endless rabbit hole of Additional Context, there is more. Oh so much more!

So instead, lemme tell you all about the weird, probably-accidental meta-narrative of RE's Dulvey Beer, and all the best/worst things that a little innocent asset recycling can bring to your franchise.

See, those bottles of Dulvey Beer (TM) aren't (just) a callback, they're reused assets from RE7 itself. You can find more bottles bearing that logo in a number of places around the Baker estate: on the table in the living room, lying around Zoe's trailer, etc. There's even a fridge in a side-room full of them.

But if you do notice Dulvey Beer at all, it's most likely to be because a bottle is rendered in lovingly high-def on the main game screen.

Nor is RE8 the first time this particular asset has been reused. There's Dulvey beer all over the place in RE2 and 3 as well. There are bottles lying around the sewers where workmen left them. There are bottles sitting around the security station in the Umbrella lab. Those brewers over at Dulvey beer must really be doing well for themselves!

In fact, one of the earliest trailers for RE2, creatively shot from a rat's POV, opens with a close-up of a spilled bottle of everyone's favourite Louisiana beer.

And really, why not reuse it? It's a perfectly good, existing beer-bottle asset, and who's going to notice? (Me. I'm going to notice. And apparently multiple other people who were onto them from the moment that trailer first dropped.)

Moreau's far from the only Dulvey Beer enthusiast in RE8 either. You'll regularly find bottles lying around in kitchens and junk piles ‒ oft as not next to a bag of Half-Whole Flour and a carton of orange juice (being some of the other most often reused assets from this franchise).

One place you won't find any, however, is in the Winters' home. Whether Ethan used to be a beer-drinker back before post-RE7-trauma left him unable even look at the label of the world's-only-beer-brand without experiencing horrible flashbacks, I do not know. But by the time of RE8, he is clearly (as Rose observes) a wine drinker. So much a wine drinker that there are places in his home where you can see nine different bottles of wine in the same shot. (Jeebus, Ethan, there are healthier ways to deal with trauma, y'know!)

But the Winters aside, Dulvey beer is everywhere. What presumably started as an asset meant for just this one family of Louisiana hillbillies has now implicitly become the only beer sold in Raccoon City too. By RE8, Dulvey Beer's international distribution has spread so far and wide you can find bottles even in isolated villages in Eastern Europe! Forget Umbrella, the global domination of Dulvey Beer has gone well beyond anyone's wildest dreams!

Realistically, of course, what we're seeing here is simply an artifact of casual asset recycling. When every RE game since 2017 has used versions of the same engine, it'd be foolish not to borrow perfectly good assets created for previous titles. It's more than likely the team behind RE2 just grabbed the existing beer-bottle asset without even noticing the label, or that they might have inadvertently cast a backwater like Dulvey as the home of America's Favourite Beer (TM).

Most fans wouldn't notice either. Resident Evil is not exactly the kind of franchise that primes you to pay close attention to every little detail.

A little 'lazy' asset reuse can even work in a game's favour. There's only a few generic wine bottle models in RE8 (all labeled 'Regina Rose'), but given that Miranda-as-Mia states outright that she's bought them 'local wine', is it any surprise to find those same bottles throughout Dimitrescu's castle and wine cellar? (Hopefully it's one of the her non-Maiden's-Blood, low-hemoglobin-content vintages, because otherwise, yikes.) But then, where else would Miranda source her wine from?

So whether that connection was intended or just an accident of asset recuse, it's a nice little detail for the attentive gamer. (Mind you, if that same asset does appear anywhere in RE2 or 3, some questions may be warranted.)

Sadly, I am obliged to admit that I could find not a single bottle of Dulvey Beer anywhere in the Spanish territory of RE4. Unlike Eastern Europe, apparently Spain is 'foreign enough' to warrant a whole new batch of generic kitchen/storeroom assets with Spanish names, and the only beer I could find anywhere comes with a new, confusingly blank label.

You can't even really tell that the label is blank from the angles here, but believe me, I spent long enough futzing around with the photo mode from different angles to be sure.

They're so blank I couldn't even say with 100% certainty that these are meant to be beer, but I guess Capcom will be able to get away with reusing them wherever the next game is set, regardless of the local language. And at this point, I can only look on that potential future with disappointment.

Farewell, Dulvey beer! If this really is goodbye, I'll gladly pour a cold one out for you.

#Dulvey Beer #Salvatore Moreau #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil 7 #Resident Evil 2 #Resident Evil 4 #Resident Evil #reused assets #and I don't even DRINK beer #RE assets

[3collecurei]

Homestucktober 2023 (1-5)

1) Patron Troll

Seer gang rise up ✊🏽 (I'd done two classpect tests since 2012 and both times I was a Seer, my aspect just changed from Void to Doom which isn't a good sign lol...although the one I just tried from 4chan is telling me I'm a Page of Void now...I mean I'll take it because it's an aspect I've gotten before but I'm not really trying to be Jake or Tavros out here they both got so screwed over lol)

Anyway if she were my actual patron in a game session I'd be fucking terrified because of what she puts John and Dave through but also probably laughing my ass off at her antics and impressed by her intense sensing ability despite the blindness

2) Favorite Beta Kid

Dave Strider is much needed comedic relief in such a tragic tale and his ramblings are often as deeply philosophical as they are deeply ridiculous. I don't even have the right words to describe all this character has done for me. I'm in love with the Time aspect even though it's probably the last aspect I'd be assigned to because I think Time players have to deal with the multiplicity of the self the most out of everyone (except maybe Space players), and what a fucking difficult thing that must be. I will always wonder how he managed to spend IIRC weeks in the game whereas for everyone else it was just 24 hours (and of course Davesprite spending IIRC four months trying to fix his doomed session...my heart)

3) Favorite Beta Troll

(IIRC the beta trolls are technically the dancestors but I just call the original 12 the betas sometimes because they deal with the beta kids and we meet them first. Anyway)

Again I don't have words enough to describe what Karkat has done for me. Karkat rounding up and trying to lead eleven other insane motherfuckers and losing his cool often but almost always asserting, in his way, that it's because he deeply cares. You really see this in Act 6 Post Murderstuck when we find him in Openbound and he's obviously dealing with the weight of having failed at leadership so hard that over half of his teammates are dead. It probably took him a while of raging at how long the meteor trip would be (and upset Sollux didn't stay after "dying" in front of him again) before the sadness set in, but if there's one thing Karkat isn't, it's afraid of emotion. Also the PCG, CCG, FCG conversations remain some of my favorites in the entire canon, especially the one where FCG berates CCG for "wanting [Terezi] in every quadrant like a desperate fool." If there's one thing I can relate to about Karkat it's that I will also always read past me for filth even if it's hard. I use it as a form of self pruning and improvement and eventually I think FCG gets that too.

4) Favorite Alpha Kid

It was Dirk for a long time until maybe the last year or two, but I realized after re-reading the Epilogues that relating to him as much as I do is probably really bad lol, but Roxy was always a close second. Obsessed with the fact that the wild alcoholic, who one might think would be the worst team member because of that, instead sobers up and fully embodies John's role as the "friendleader" which is why I think they end up getting along so well. Despite the obstacles Roxy is full of love for their friends, and with friends like the people who they end up becoming in the Epilogues, you gotta hand it to them for their persistence. Considering that they were in a Void session their positivity throughout was pretty amazing to me, also shout out to them for fully embracing Calliope's skull appearance and finding them beautiful anyway. Alien love wins

5) Favorite Alpha Troll

Okay but can we talk about the fact that she ends up alive??? As a huge stan of hers since we started seeing her I was fucking living my best life lol I can't hate it whatsoever even though it was at John's expense 😭 Meenah's one of the most determined characters in the entire thing fr, she really said "fuck being dead for millions of years after isolating myself on the moon to avoid responsibility, now I want all the responsibility, all of it." Fully meets Karkat again in Candy and is like "lemme reverse what HIC did and use my ancient Queen powers to benefit the mutant," imo an incredible foil to her future self even though they're very much the same troll and speak pretty much exactly the same. Fish puns are hysterical to me most of the time, her unwavering dedication to the shtick 4x as hard as Feferi did it and editing/improving ones she doesn't like in the middle of her sentences 😂 I cosplayed as her at AX 2013 and had a blast, except for that Cronus cosplayer who tried to hit on me in character, I had no idea what to do lmao

#homestuck #homestucktober #terezi pyrope #dave strider #karkat vantas #roxy lalonde #meenah peixes

[found-wings]

see like a dumbass I thought I could handle the angst but the SECOND you added phil begging Specifically for fit, forever, or etoiles is when I went nope nope can't do this anymore- calling out for the people who were always there for him in his worst times in the island. especially for someone like phil who canonically bottles up all his emotions and let's everything fester without wanting help from anyone else; calling to his friends for comfort. it'd hurt even more if after one of these trips, even if he can barely remember what's happened as he stumbles out the federation-sanctioned building, the first thing he does is check who's around and to warp to their waystone for help. if it had been a normal day, he'd isolate at home and tough out this pain himself, but just this once he lets himself have this, have a single moment of indulgence where he allows himself to find someone for comfort. whether that be going straight to forevers megabase for safety in the home's owner and his many basements and reinforced bunkers, going to etoiles half-built house with the hope that he'll be in there in between explorations in search for protection against any workers who may decide that they weren't finished yet, or to fit's base for the man's familiarity and connection with someone he trusted with his life and family before the children had been ripped from his grasp.

(haha point and laugh at the man who is often seen as more of a loner having FRIENDS and BESTIES and FAMILY and CONNECTIONS HA LAUGHING AND POINTING this is me coping with him supressing his emotions in canon GO TO YOUR FRIENDS FOR HELP‼️‼️) - 💿

I WILL PROJECTILE SOB AT YOU AND MYSELF, SCREEEE (coping)

He needs to learn it’s okay to indulge in the safety of your friends and family!!!! I will rattle this man to let himself be vulnerable to his besties sooner than later!! And breaking down & cracking when it all is too much!!!

( Phil in this au pains me so much and I‘m the reason for the pain. But I can‘t stop AJKAJA )

Gods just imagine Phil finally letting himself indulge in that safety and comfort instead of letting it build up. Instead of going back to his own abandoned home, instead of isolating himself until he cracks and attempts to go back so they others need to stop him - he goes.

He goes and warps to the home of one of his friends, looking and quietly hoping for them to be home right now and as soon as he gets close - let himself stumble into the arms of his friends.

He doesn‘t want to go back to an empty house again, he just wants to feel safe for at least a little while in the arms of his friends. Whether that means searching for that familiarity of Fit, the protection of Etoiles or the soothing safety of Forever.

On an extra note :

Y’know the mention of the room for Phil? Similar to how the whole Egg Hotel works but for Phil.

Imagine Phil asking for people like Fit, Forever, eventually Missa, Tubbo and Etoiles, etc. to help him decorate it. He knows the others can‘t constantly be there for him and he needs to start managing himself somehow, so the next best thing for him is creating his own safespace - taking what he felt like was a prison and adding things that reminds him of his closest people. Making it feel lived in, feel like a shared home.

Time to go pass out AJAJJA

#CRIES #SCREAMS AND CRIES #qsmp #code philza <3 #💿 anon #winged.rambles

[saras-devotionals]

Quiet Time 3/16

What am I feeling today?

I feel that I’m getting better health wise, I’m not that congested anymore and I can speak again so that’s great! I’ve been excused from the past three days of work and school and there are some things that I won’t have to make up which I’m really grateful for! Although, it could just be because I was sick and just away and isolated from everyone for a bit but I’m just feeling kinda numb. I’ve spent way too many hours in bed, on my phone, watching tv, etc and I just feel awful about it because I wasn’t being productive. Even though I know everyone is telling me to rest, I just can’t, like I can’t allow myself to fully rest.

Bible Plan: Spiritual Wilderness

Israel left Egypt, which was their place of deliverance, but the promised land they were heading for was their place of dominion. In between Egypt and the promised land was a dry desert. The period between deliverance and dominion is usually marked by a miserable wilderness.

Elijah went through a wilderness as well as the apostle Paul (1 Kings 19:1-9; Galatians 1:17-18). Even our Lord Jesus “was led into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil” (Matthew 4:1) after being filled with the Holy Spirit.

The wilderness experience is a tough time in which we endure spiritual afflictions. Often, it’s a time when temptation intensifies; there might be spiritual attacks on our soul. This is a time that may also involve a spiritual drought when we feel disconnected from God.

A spiritual wilderness is not a sign that we are in sin although sometimes it feels like that. Instead of looking for God, we tend to look for some sin that can be blamed for our current experience. If you are going through a spiritual wilderness right now, remember you are not alone. The Holy Spirit is with you right now.

God is with you in the wilderness even when you don’t feel Him.

I understand that this is something that is common and it’s talked about. We go from baptism and then it’s like we’re thrown into the desert and we’re tested and it’s a hard path to walk. I don’t feel like this all the time, there are some times when I’m all fired up and ready to go! But then I have my periods of drought, where I feel absolutely numb, and I don’t want to go on in life because I’ve just gotten so tired and beat down.

I want to be able to strike a balance here. I understand that God is with me during both of these times and the desert can be necessary! It’s just hard, and I think I lack a strong will sometimes. But I can also think I’ve persevered thus far and I’m still here, what’s stopping from going further?

Psalms 24:1-6 NIV

“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it; for he founded it on the seas and established it on the waters. Who may ascend the mountain of the Lord? Who may stand in his holy place? The one who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not trust in an idol or swear by a false god. They will receive blessing from the Lord and vindication from God their Savior. Such is the generation of those who seek him, who seek your face, God of Jacob.”

The instruction of those who may stand in the holy place before God are those who are of pure heart, clean hands, and that do not have idols. From this section, what I’ve been struggling with is idolatry and I don’t want that to be true. I can be quite selfish and put myself first. I can also get obsessed and allow it to consume me, like an addiction really, I just need to get my next fix and constantly craving whatever more I can get. That’s a problem, that’s something I want to change, because I know, in the end, it doesn’t truly leave me satisfied, nothing does or will except for God.

Matthew 28:18-20 NIV

“Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.””

The Great Commission!! This is something I’ve had memorized for years yet I hadn’t began putting it into practice til a few months ago. I mean, this is literally some of Jesus last words to us and a command that he has given all of us! I mean come on! How much more important can this be?? I need to get better with this though, I can have a hard time sharing my faith and catching up with people that I have shared with before. I should check up and not give up just because it didn’t work out the first time.

Isaiah 43:1-4 NIV

“But now, this is what the Lord says— he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior; I give Egypt for your ransom, Cush and Seba in your stead. Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life.”

We’re His🥹 this just hits hard for me, like God is with us, we’re precious to Him, He loves us🥹 like this is just something that I’ve always had a hard time wrapping my head around but He’s like literally our Father and we should treat Him as such. I think about how much I love my dad and how I try to spend time with him even when it’s inconvenient for me and I need to give God and even higher treatment than that! I mean it’s just!!! He just!!! He loves us!!!🥹🥹

Deuteronomy 2:7 NIV

“The Lord your God has blessed you in all the work of your hands. He has watched over your journey through this vast wilderness. These forty years the Lord your God has been with you, and you have not lacked anything.”

I could honestly cry right now because!!! God is just so good, even when I’m struggling, even when I’m having a hard time, even when all I want to do is just give up, God is always there. I may not be aware of it all the time but He is, He’s watching over me and He’s with me and what more could I possibly ask for?

#bible #quiet time #bible quote #bible scripture #bible verse #christian blog #christian faith #christian living #christianity #faith in jesus #bible study #devo #faith #faith in god #jesus #devotional #disciple of christ #daily devotional #discipleship #jesus saves #jesus loves you #love #holy bible #bible plan #saras devotionals #3/16

[avatar-of-the-web]

I'm seeing posts about amatonormativity but they don't seem to be made by people that have sat with every angle of the subject (fair) so here's my two cents with an angle I've yet to see. Forgive my lack of simplicity and language mistake. Can't afford to write better for now.

It, the nuclear family, the idealisation of a singular monogamous partner and marriage are largely modern concepts, at least in the form they now take anyway. And the whole point of the thing is boosting capitalism and keeping community fairly divided. If we're sectioned off in groups that mostly focus on and care about only people that live in our house with us, where does that leave the collective?

Helping anyone outside is a drag, it's too difficult, it's too much. Engaging anyone outside is a drag, it's too difficult, it's too much.

Why is it so inconvenient?

There is a loneliness epidemic.

On valentine's day, there are a lot of reasons people become severely upset.

You could ask yourself if you're aro, of course, but don't reduce that just to a label—it's a journey, and plenty of aro people spend a long time thinking they want a partner when they really wanted a best friend, or someone who focuses on them before anyonelse without all the excess bullshit, but not all aromantics want that either. We can argue about semantics and where we draw lines in the sand for eternity but ultimately it's individual, it's about what you want and how you want it and how you view that.

If the label helps you find your community then it might be for you. I know I used to be, but I didn't fit in there quite right. I became an identity anarchist instead—I found labeling myself so vaguely confuses people more than it helps. But that's my opinion about me and my parameters.

I digress.

Especially if you seethe with jealousy when you see couples that at least seem to click just right, that show it off but ask yourself if what you need most is an actual support system.

And an actual support system can include a partner, of course, but it should not be compromised of Only or Mostly a partner. But don't mistake this for me saying not having more than that is an individual issue; quite the opposite.

Imagine, a community of people that you can properly interact with and rely on.

Do you have someone or a group even for every side of you? Do you have places you can go to engage with different aspects of yourself and society in a pleasant and meaningful way? Are they accessible? By which I mean, can you actually make it there, and as often as you need to? Can you stretch out parts of yourself too complicated/unrelatable for one group to understand by engaging with another? Whenever you need advice, can you think of a person you can reliably ask, which varies by the subject you need help with?

Do you have someone you can cry to without having to pay a therapist? Do you have anyone who'll be your rubber ducky in a pinch, that you can rely on to have faith in you to grow and not antagonise you for what you said or did once forever?

They don't have to be able to offer advice beyond normal capabilities. Crying to your friends and accepting their advice (which is admittedly usually mediocre BUT still gives something abundantly helpful—a different perspective you don't have to pay money for but friendship instead) is an old social behaviour of humans. Bitching to friends so they can comfort you and/or help you see where you went wrong so you can be more reasonable with the people they're upset with is much the same.

But more and more I saw the attitude of saying "seek therapy, friends aren't for that" rise. And worst, it escalated to "strangers aren't for that", which tells me with the lack of anyone to depressurize with people just started spilling uncontrollably more. And what are they met with? It being called trauma dumping, being pushed farther in to isolation.

I'm not saying every friend needs to "allow" or "put up with" that. That's why it's a COMMUNITY. If the thought of a friend venting to you drives you up the wall—good news! Other people LOVE being that friend, so you don't need to be them, or get personally heated like that. Maybe you're just not That Type of friend. I don't know, I'm not you.

But in a community you can depend on the fact that there will be someone who enjoys everything if only you could mingle enough to explore it and individuals enough to find that out.

In community we challenge ourselves of course! It's full of compromise. But ideally we accentuate our strengths instead of focusing on forcing ourselves through our weaknesses pointlessly. We can lean on eachother for help. It's give and it's take and we pay with favours and trust and joy and quality time and more so that we can keep the support going without burning out; we give.

Humans did not EVOLVE to function alone. Like it or not, we simply can't. The closest we can do is blind ourself to how much the hands of others play a part in our life and wonder why things aren't going so smoothly when we avoid them or they retract, and we're more alone than perhaps we ever even intended.

How do we go back from here?

Who does it benefit if the only question you ask is "why don't I have a partner?" and perhaps "why don't I feel like I can handle one even if I want one"

And the latter is a reflection of this; they'll say you shouldn't put Everything on your partner, but fail to discuss why that's a reoccurring issue in the first place!

Who does it benefit if you're not asking "Where is my community, and how do I help build it?" instead.

Because I don't think it's you!

We all deserve to be well adjusted. And amatonormativity is never going to lead to a society made of mostly well-adjusted people. Almost all of us in places where we've been robbed of community are severely under-socialised, and that ranges to places with apparent community which is largely compromised of vapid attitudes that allow people to have friends at such an arms length that we still feel alone.

We deserve better than that.

#might delete this in a little bit I don't like attention lol #amatonormativity

[scaryinclusive]

NARCISSISTIC PERSONALITY DISORDER — BREAKING DOWN THE STIGMA.

by @scaryinclusive.

a discussion of the ableism and stigma relating to npd — a separate resource post will be posted at another date, written by a narcissist. if you believe in the term 'narcissistic abuse', have been conditioned by your surroundings or past trauma to view or discuss narcissists in a negative way or simply want to understand why it's important to show sympathy, compassion and patience towards those with npd, please read this and keep an open mind. i'm not here to tell you what you can and can't do or what to feel, but if you are someone who wants to learn about the impact your vocabulary can have on others, as well as how your behaviour contributes to the isolation and ableism towards an entire community, this might be a useful post for you.

i understand this might be an inflammatory topic, but please be patient with me, and show me the same respect you'd want to receive. i am a living, breathing person behind the screen. first of all, i think it's important clarify what is meant by ableism, when used in this context. as an abuse survivor myself, i have subjected others to an ableist mindset — whether that be externally or internally ( internalised ableism. ) i have previously called my abuser a range of ableist terms, without having a diagnosis for them or the ability to make one. i have projected my own insecurities onto others and myself, instead of taking a step back to assess my trauma, shame and getting to the root of the blame. if this is something you have done previously too, or are currently prone to, know you are valid.

often, people want logic to illogical situations, they want reason to make sense of the unreasonable and in some cases they want to have something or someone to blame. and it's absolutely easier to blame an individual or disorder deemed monstrous by society than it is to blame the abuse itself. to hold an event, or series of events accountable. whatever it takes to keep the blame off of us, right? and while this is a common phenomenon within society, to blame people with narcissistic personality disorder or antisocials for our suffering, by throwing around the terms 'psychopath', 'narcissist' and 'sociopath' etc, it's not sustainable and in the long run, sure — you'll succeed in adding to the stigma of already massively stigmatised communities, but you'll drag yourself down with them. and that's not healing. that's not overcoming. it's certainly not contributing to the empathy, compassion and care many of you wish to see in the world. i feel this short, non-accusatory and sympathetic article really helps elaborate on what i've already mentioned.

i also want to stress that, at no point, am i excusing harmful behaviour. i believe individuals with these disorders, professionally or self diagnosed, and even those who think they might have one or both, have a responsibility within themselves to seek out support, healing and improvement to keep themselves and others safe and protected. but with the total lack of resources, community, space, patience and safety for them to commit to such, it's a vicious cycle. you're asking people who struggle greatly with shame and insecurity to face it, in an unsafe space with people that seek to shame us. we cannot get the help we need, regardless of how self-aware we are, due to society's stigmatising perception of us. due to rumours, lies and stereotypes.

therapists aren't always safe. in my experience i have been exposed to some highly questionable therapists. some have been corrupted by the stigma and are therefore unsafe for us. resources are designed to brainwash and instil internalised ableism. friends and family hate us. we have nowhere and no one to turn to. so, we bottle it up. we bottle it up, and up, and up until we explode or implode. someone catches it on camera and uploads it online. thousands if not more view it and all that comes from this devastating explosion is more stigma, more hate, and less space for us to heal. the cycle continues.

where does the stigma start? well, it starts with society's knowledge and education on what narcissistic personality disorder actually is. in this circumstance, unfortunately, you can't even fully trust things like the dsm's criteria, or the many websites accessible across the internet. you 100% can't trust word of mouth. i will begin with what npd is not. it is not a choice. not something you can decide to be, or to not be. people with npd do not love themselves, we are not entitled or selfish. we don't have a god-complex or view ourselves as higher beings or more important for the fun of it. we do not all have low / no empathy and we don't feel nothing. we aren't heartless, soulless, blood-sucking monsters, we aren't cunning villains scheming and seeking to manipulate and hurt people. we are not a different species or lesser being, not parasites or a infestation.

so what are people with narcissistic personality disorder? exactly that. people — a community of human beings who primarily experienced varying childhood traumas. the more effort, time and money put into the scientific and biological understanding of npd reveals it to be more and more alike to a trauma-related disorder. the entire meaning behind 'personality disorders' is that the title trait is a typical, average personality trait. however, the difference is that the trait itself is amplified, more intense or severe due to some form of trauma during childhood development.

as much as people don't want to admit it, narcissism is a healthy, typical human trait. but when an individual is exposed to trauma in early life, such as neglect ( particularly emotional neglect ), as they grow and develop the brain adapts in this environment to survive. this can lead to the development or intensifying of harmful, negatives behaviours that continue into later life. when you are no longer in an environment where survival is a necessity, an environment where you might need to manipulative, emotionally disconnect or behave in a specific way to avoid a threat or emotional injury, these behaviours don't simply vanish. they continue, even if it means harming those around you or treating them in a negative manner, because your brain is constantly convincing you of perceived threats — real or imagined, and your attitude towards life was never healthily developed in a way that you can pursue stability and safety.

to cope with this, specifically for those with npd, we develop grandiose delusions of ourselves. a façade, a safety net, a wall between us and the world. on the outside, it might appear that we are infatuated with ourselves, simply self-obsessed, entitled and obnoxiously detached from reality. what's really happening is that our core selves are so insecure, in such a deeply-rooted way, that in order to survive and cope with our inner fragility, we must create a false sense of security. npd is entirely based around insecurity. and insecurity, in itself — even without npd being a contributing factor, can lead to harmful behaviour. projecting our insecurities onto others to feel powerful, in control and above all else, safe. we are not monsters, we have simply had to adapt and learn to survive in an unstable, volatile and potentially dangerous environment and were never given the tools to heal from this. isn't that sad? an entire community of people unable to heal from their trauma because society has cast us out. stereotyped us as murderers, villains and abusers.

through therapy ( it's taken me 10 years of searching to find someone that understands me, healthily challenges me, respects me, is patient and remains unbiased throughout my healing ) i have learned much about myself. i have become more self-aware, been able to break down my trauma and thus combat my internalised ableism, and have been able to do so in a way that hasn't brainwashed me into believing the only way for someone like me to heal is to shame and hate myself and those with my disorders. it's not true. we can heal in a safe and healthy way that promotes self-love, sympathy for our suffering, compassion as well as responsibility, recognition and rationality. all of these can co-exist.

we can take responsibility for our mistakes and harmful actions while also being sympathetic towards what made us this way. but unfortunately many are pushed by society to take to self-loathing, self-deprecation and the spreading of stigma in favour of winning over ableists who reduce us to a stereotype or generalise us as lesser beings. "look how healed i am! i hate narcissists too!!" they are not healing, and by pushing this narrative and encouraging it, you are only digging a deeper hole.

outside of those that have been misguided by their trauma, leading them to label emotionally abusive, or just abusive individuals, as 'narcissists', along with various other stigmatising labels, there is a huge portion of society who remain uneducated and merely misuse the label due to it being commonly thrown around and not knowing any better. i ask that, if you are someone that uses this term to describe anyone other than someone with narcissistic personality, and certainly if you use it in any derogatory form, why you do that? i think it's fair to invite you to perform the same introspect about yourself that we are so desperately trying to do, with or without resources.

why do you need to use the word narcissist? narcissism, narcissistic? the same goes for antisocial, psychopath or sociopath. any word related to mental health or disability, really. outside of it being purely medical. what's stopping you from changing your vocabulary and contributing to the healing of a community? if your answer is 'because i can', or 'because they deserve it', you are dooming an entire group of traumatised individuals to fail.

if your answer is that narcissism existed as a trait and / or adjective prior to the disorder — you're absolutely right. it did. but the meanings of words change. the r* slur is a primary example. once, this slur was purely a medical word. it was then used by the general public as a derogatory way to describe those with intellectual or developmental disabilities. to reduce them as people and dehumanise them. it became such a widespread pejorative term that, now, the majority don't use it. because it's deemed offensive, hurtful and dehumanising. the meanings of words change, and if a handful of people from a relatively small community tell you it's hurtful and dehumanising, you don't get to tell them otherwise.

by saying things like "narcissistic abuse", instead of emotional abuse or abuse, you're adding to the stigma. by calling your abusive partner or friend a narcissist instead of what they are — 'an abuser', you're adding to the stigma. by armchair diagnosing ( diagnosing an individual despite not having the knowledge / legal qualifications to and purely basing it on personal / biased experience ) people guilty of performing in a toxic, abusive, harmful or negative way with narcissistic personality disorder, you are adding to the stigma. and above all else, it's ableist. it's discrimination and it's social prejudice.

here are a couple of useful resources relating to the definition, discussion and stigma surrounding npd. i will also be making a post listing alternative and appropriate vocab options for a variety of commonly misused labels.

5 things you got wrong about narcissistic personality disorder, a short, informative comic.

narcissus and the daffodils, an essay on the nature of npd.

please avoid adding onto this post to keep from spreading misinformation or stigma, but feel free to reblog! if you have something to say, i encourage you to send it to my asks. but i think at this point, if you're still set on misusing the term and adding to the stigma, i personally have done as much as i can. i really do sympathise with trauma-born ableism. but it's not acceptable and i'd like to think the majority can do better than that. just because others choose to contribute to the ableism, doesn't mean you have to. everyone deserves to heal from their trauma, including us, and including you.

#npd safe #actuallynpd #npd #mental health awareness #i know this is lengthy but it's so important #this is so important to me #there's such a feud about this and #i cant sit by anymore and say nothing about it #hopefully this post is more factual and educational than personal #ableism is so integrated into society #and i think it's one of those things where... #people feel it cant be combatted so no one really tries to #save for the odd few #but hopefully this contributes to combatting it and if not #i will continue trying to spread the message #npd related. #trauma related. #resources. #stigma info.

[thatonebirdwrites]

Thoughts about fandoms and Writing

I suppose this will be a ramble of sorts. I wanted to talk about a sad thing I noticed but also a good thing I noticed about fandoms. This is a ramble, and I hope it all connects into a coherent whole by the end.

I'll start with the question I leave at the end. The question that my writing silently asks all readers:

"Here is a story of a human being that may be different from you, so will you join me at this campfire and hear their tale? To join them on this great journey of wonder, pain, joy, sorrow, and hope?"

One of the things that drew me to various fandoms, and my current one was a sense of connection. A sense of community, but I've also learned that despite this strength, there is an underlying undercurrent of who is allowed to exist in that community.

Part of writing fanfiction is because we want to see more of our beloved characters. To dig deeper into them, to fulfill this need for connection.

Because that's the crux of most things about us human beings, right? We are social beings that live best when we have connections with other human beings. None of us can live in a perfect isolation with no contact with anyone else ever (in fact studies show this is very, very, very bad for our health and can slowly kill us).

Yet, as a disabled person, I find myself stuck in this weird liminal space of seeking connection but sometimes finding instead reminders of how conditional my existence in the space truly is.

I notice that the stories willing to push the envelope a little, to explore what it'd be like if one of our beloved characters was disabled, often get far more harsh comments and far less support.

I've sat back and observed, and the more I interact with fandoms, the more I wonder if there is room for people like me.

I've seen some pushback in various fandoms -- even TLOK -- against people who want to explore our beloved characters in settings that allow for a more diverse intersection of identities. That tackle themes related to disability, gender identity, race, and so forth. To tackle more nuanced Leftist thought (that isn't displayed like a bad thing which TLOK sadly does at times).

This saddens me because that sort of pushback breaks the connection and community of fandoms in a way.

The whole reason I'm writing fanfiction is because I couldn't quite find the story I wanted to read. There's a lot of flaws in Legend of Korra, and I wanted to tackle the stories inherent in it from a different angle. To explore themes left unexplored. But also to show the shared moments Korra and Asami have. (They are legit my favorite couple of all time).

But I just don't feel very comfortable writing smut. I never have, so I'm already an outlier in the fanfiction writer community.

But I've realized of late that I also because an outlier with how I explore disability in my fanfiction.

Honestly Book 3 of TLOK sets the disability theme up, and although it does an excellent job with the PTSD arc, the way the temporary physical disability was handled during Korra's long healing left me quite frustrated because it utilized verbiage that's often used to demonize or deny disabled people support. No, it's not all in Korra's head (we find out later, that she really did still have poison in her, so Korra was right THE WHOLE TIME). No, it's not a mind over matter (this is the most unhelpful thing to say to a disabled person, seriously). No physical therapy can't cure all things. *sighs* I wanted more nuance there, and since it failed to deliver, I decided to write my own.

I also wanted to dig deep into Asami's story too because sadly enough TLOK doesn't give her the attention her and her trauma deserves.

So I have two separate series. One canon-compliant to explore the ramifications of that.

One an AU where Korra and Asami are romantically together by middle of Book 2, where they must navigate Book 3 and the trauma of that together. How do they do it? Can they do it? What sort of disability will they face and how will they deal with that?

I recognize what I write is not what most folks want from the fandom, and I feel like sometimes there is this unspoken undercurrent in the fandom to not really dig into the disability themes inherent in TLOK.

I think this is why commenters literally had a fight in the comments of my Shared Moments: Book 3. I had taken the disability theme in Book 3 (and 4) and made it highly visible. I had foreshadowed this quite thoroughly in all honesty.

I had made it clear from the start of the series that I promised to be realistic about trauma, about physical injuries, and about healing. Sure, I took some liberties in fight scenes to play up some interesting martial art moves that actually exist, but there's always ramifications and consequences.

I think in a way the fight that happened in my Book 3 (at the final confrontation with Zaheer's group) exemplifies the hidden current of ableism within the fandom.

Asami had barely escaped the lavabender and had a fourth-degree burn on the sole of her right foot. Those are when the burn destroys the nerves and can go as deep as the bone. They are quick to become infected if not treated right away, and in Asami's case, there was no way for it to be treated until after the airbenders are rescued. TLOK is set in a technological and medical period similar to 1940s, so the typical solution in that time period is amputation.

I'd carefully laid out details like crumbs for readers to find that heavily hints that this could be one of the possible outcomes.

Nothing about it was surprising.

And yet, two commenters were angry that one of the characters would end up permanently disabled. They utilized a harmful ableist trope, ignored the story up to that point, and demanded I alter the story because they deemed Asami's injury "unnecessary for the narration" and "too much."

Truth is, as much as I tried not to let it hurt me, it did.

Why? Because I'm disabled. I've had injuries due to circumstances where I didn't receive the healthcare I needed in time to prevent the injury and illness from worsening. I've been in Asami and Korra's shoes in a way.

Being told that a story that mirrored my own, that mirrored the lives of so many disabled people is "too much" and "unnecessary for narration" is a vivid reminder of how deep ableism has fallen into the psyche of our society.

Most folks wouldn't consider that ableist, and yet, if the same words were said about queer identities? If someone said that Korra and Asami being bisexual is "unnecessary for the narration" or "too much" there would be riots in the TLOK fandom. (In fact, I sometimes still witness some between Makorra shippers versus Korrasami shippers, where it doesn't seem to matter that Korrasami is canon to the Makorra folks, they get incensed and fall back on biphobic language. Only to be rightly called out for the harm of it.)

So why aren't we standing up for disabled people?

The Legend of Korra is a survivor story. It's a disability story. Complex-PTSD that Korra has is a disability. Acute-PTSD, which is likely what Asami has, is also a disability.

Disability is not bad. It is not evil. It's not too much.

Disability is beautiful. It should be normalized as just part of who a person is. We, disabled people, can do great things despite our disability.

And yet, those commenters couldn't see that.

All they could see was their beloved character would be permanently disabled. Their unconscious bias reared its head, and they lashed out in a way that hurt. (And also angered several other commenters who kindly called them out).

They were angry at being forced to confront the fact that their beloved character was now in the category of "disabled." It required them to relate -- to connect -- to a disabled person as a human being.

That's the moment of truth isn't it?

When someone is forced to relate to another person as a human being worthy of respect and dignity, that is when we discover the true character of a person I think.

Disabled people like myself are often treated like we are sub-human. Like we don't matter, like it'd be better if we ceased to exist. (I can give dozens of examples, but I think how the pandemic is currently being handled is a blatant look at how ableism is structured in our society and how much it harms all of us.)

Society saturates our media with messages of how disabled people are less than, sub-human, unworthy of life, unworthy of being allowd to even participate in society. Often the only way we are allowed to exist at all is if we are displayed as an "inspiration," something for which abled-bodied people to oogle and feel good about themselves for "helping" us "get over" or "cure" our disability, as if our disability is a problem to be solved rather than something that can be both painful but also beautiful. (I often try to see the beauty in my ADHD, my APD, my autoimmune illness. And yes, for LongCovid in particular, I may wish for a cure for my LongCovid, but I can also recognize the beauty within my illness - I see the world differently and that lens allows me to connect in new ways and to show more kindness and love in different ways. That too is beauty).

The harmful messages about disabled people are everywhere, and we often unconsciously absorb them.

I try to do my best to respond with kindness. To even try to educate when I can, but I also have to have a firm boundary because I'm a human being.

I don't have enough energy to tackle educating people about this AND doing what I need to survive.

And for me, writing is survival.

I think the reason it hurt to see ableism at play in the fandom was because I had been thinking maybe I might actually belong to a group for once. That maybe I would be treated as a human being, who has a talent for something.

But seeing the words "too much" and "unnecessary for narration" in the comments, brought out not only my insecurities, but a reminder of just how fucking hard it is to write diverse characters.

I've never written fanfiction before 2021.

I'm a science fiction (and sometimes fantasy) author, though at the moment it's only short stories that have been published.

Do you know how many times I've heard those harmful phrases said while I trying to get my original stories published?

Editors would tell me:

"Your character being nonbinary is unnecessary for the narration." Or "It's too much to have a nonbinary character. You should just choose a gender and we'll consider it."

OR

"Why is this character disabled? It seems unnecessary for the narration. Just eliminate them and rewrite it."

It didn't matter that the disability was crucial to the character and her understanding of the world and how she navigated it. (Or that she was literally the protagonist.)

It didn't matter that the nonbinary person's identity was crucial to their character, their understanding of the world, and how others related to them.

It didn't matter even if it was crucial to the plot.

All that mattered was that the editors were uncomfortable with characters that didn't match the ideal human they decided was the only allowed protagonist.

In a way, they were saying that people like me didn't deserve to have our stories told. To be recognized and seen as protagonists, as human beings to which readers could connect.

Is fandom any different?

Maybe there are readers who enjoy what I write, but sometimes I see so much of the content of fandom, and this intense demand for an ideal form of human, and I don't see myself.

I don't see myself and those like me being accepted as we are. Where we are worthy of connection too.

So I create that representation; I carefully weave a story so everything is set up, foreshadowed, makes sense in the characterization and narration, and I come face to face with the blatant ableism, blatant transphobia, and sometimes even blatant biphobia.

And it's a reminder that even while I try to find comfort and solace and a safe place to recover from my own illness and from the world at large...

... in the end, it's hard to feel like there will ever be acceptance. It's hard to feel like the fandom is willing to treat people like me as a human worthy of respect and dignity.

Because that's the thing, isn't it?

When people see me in my wheelchair, they don't see a person. They see a thing. A sub-human to be pitied. I get touched in ways that would never happen if I was abled-bodied. My wheelchair gets moved in ways that would never happen if I was abled-bodied (that wheelchair is an extension of my body and touching it without my consent is touching me without consent). I get sneers sometimes. I get people staring at me like I'm some carnival show.

It's tiresome. It's hurtful. It isolates.

To have a beloved character end up in a wheelchair, or end up with a prosthetic?

People are forced to face their own ableism. They are forced to see the ugliness they display toward me and those like me. Because now their beloved character is one of my people.

And the anger that is hurled at me for doing this is honestly ridiculous. Exhausting too.

People don't like being uncomfortable, but we cannot grow if we're not uncomfortable. We cannot become better than we were unless we confront the things that break our ability to connect.

i write because I want people to connect. I want people to understand ways of being that is unlike their own, and to come to understand that we are all human beings. We all are worthy and deserving of respect and dignity. We all deserve to be seen and accepted where we are.

Those are the stories I love the most. The ones that build up and not tear down.

And perhaps that is why I will never truly fit in. Because I refuse to sit down and make myself small enough to fit in. Because I prefer to dig into the reality of our differences and how those differences are actually our similarities and our biggest strengths.

It is our diversity that is our strength. It's also how we connect, how we find our similarities, because even in our beautiful galaxy of identities, we all have similar human needs and qualities that shine through.

We are all made of stardust. We are all social beings. We all strive for some level of connection, and although the layers of that may differ for each of us, that human need to connect cannot be truly erased or ignored.

I'll end where I began, with the great question my writings always silently ask readers:

"Here is a story of a human being that may be different from you, so will you join me at this campfire and hear their tale? To join them on this great journey of wonder, pain, joy, sorrow, and hope?"

And honestly, that's why I write.

#tlok #korrasami #the legend of korra #legend of korra #fandom #fandom culture #connection #we're all just human beings who seek connection with others #Disability #disabled #disabled people can be heroes too #disabilities #invisible disability #disability representation #representation #ramblings #might delete later idk #why I write #We all wish to be acknowledged for who we are and accepted where we are really #It's okay to not like something but not okay to erase someone's identity because you're uncomfortable at our existence

[twobruhsinahottub]

Vent

You can read if you want and advice is welcome. Content/trigger warnings for abuse, self inflicted injury, self delete, cruelty (toward humans and animals)

I am an abuser. I am abusive to my core. I am toxic. I have negative narcissistic tendencies. I never say sorry. Or please. Or thank you. I am never greatful. I experience no empathy and very rarely do i experience sympathy. I hurt the ones around me constantly. I want to stop. I need to stop. I want to kill [me] everytime i realise what ive done. But i never realise until its too late. I lash out. I snap. I say cruel things. I am lucky that as ive gotten older i have stopped being physically abusive, but emotionally and psychologically it has gotten worse. The worst part is, the one i abuse most (my mother) still loves me. More than anything. She would never admit i hurt her 24/7. She is stuck. The guilt i feel is beyond anything i could ever write down but there is nothing i can do to stop myself from my cruelty towards others. I do not think before i act when i am upset. I simply say or do whatever i want and often what i want to say is cruel. I often threaten [self delete / self inflicted injury] to get what i want. But its more than a threat. I can and will hurt [me] to get what i want. If my mother pays attention to her gf instead of me i [inflict injury on self] and show her so she hangs up the phone and talks to me. I do not lack attention. I simply want more and more all the time. I fired a therapist who was actually helping me because she called me out on this. If anyone calls me out i scream at them and then go hide and cry about it because i feel so bad. It feels like theres no way out that isnt death or isolation. I dont want to hurt people but i refuse help and change (if change is even possible). I am even cruel to animals. Never physically. But i scream at animals when im angry and have to physically restrain myself or attack an inanimate object to stop myself from hurting them physically. The only living being i have never had to do this with is cats. In fact when i am on a rampage they calm me. But i still scare my cat. I yell and scream and throw things and it scares her. The things that hurt the most is there are only two beings in this world who i love. My mother and my cat. They are who i hurt. My mother especially. And that i am a prime example of the rare instance where the abused becomes the abuser. I am my fathers child through and through. He and my step father have shaped me to become this monster. Why. Why couldnt i be better. Why couldn't i stop the cycle. I know i could never have children despite wanting them so badly because i know i would hurt them. I am a worthless use of space, time, energy, and resources. Why. Why am i here. Why am i like this. Why do i bring nothing to this world but pain. Someone kill me. Please. Its gotten to the point where my mother and i have seriously considered a [self delete] pact. Because i need to [leave this earth] and she cannot live without me because for some reason she loves me more than anything (Stockholm syndrome probably). I need to leave this earth but i do not want my final act to her to be causing her more pain. I cannot drag her down with me. I want to [inflict injury on myself] but my gf took my [utensil] and i have no other. I could do it. I could leave. But i cant hurt her like that. Please. What do i do. Help.

#vent #tw #cw #warnings in the header #sonny vents #idk im starting a tagging system now ig #sonnys public diary

[messengerhermes]

How to Survive the End of the World

Here's the thing, over the course of our lives, our worlds will end multiple times. More often than we'd like, and sometimes more often than we think we can bear.

(breakups of all kinds, deaths, lost jobs, lost housing, medical diagnosis, big global things that hit right in the personal, you name it)

The world will end, and we will still be there, in the smoldering aftermath, short of breath and bewildered, perhaps wishing we had not made it through. But we have. So what now? I'd love to hand you a set survival guide that applies to any world ending situation. But there isn't one. Or if there is, it has been hidden from my knowledge (feel free to share it, if you have been gifted with such a treasure).

But. But. I can share with you the things that have helped me pick up the pieces and get to know who I am in this freshly born world. This list is not complete, and it cannot speak to everyone. But any pieces that do resonate for you, please take them and leave what doesn't. 1. Stop trying to go back to Before. You can never be who you were before that world ended, because now you know the aftermath. Trying to force yourself back into the person you were won't get you back what you yearn for about that past self, but it will deepen that hole of grief.

2. Get to know who you are now. Instead of comparing and contrasting, be curious about who you are now, examine the ways this change has transformed you. Seek out what brings you pleasure in this world, let yourself feel whatever emotions are there painful and sweet alike. Note the things you're yearning for.

3. Find new ways to get your needs met. Often a world ending cuts us off from coping skills and sources of joy, security, and comfort that were integral to our lives. This loss can be the thing that sends us clamoring to try and go back, even if the world before was not that great to us. Mourn the things you have lost, but don't treat losing a source of something as losing the thing itself. For example: If you've lost a close friendship and one of the things you cherished was how much you laughed with that person, find new ways to laugh, new people to laugh with. Just because that connection is gone doesn't mean this new world will never ring with laughter.

4. Use this as a chance to clean out your metaphorical house. Over the course of our life journey, we'll pick up all kinds of shit that's helpful to us. We'll be gifted things, or inherit them, and slowly our home will fill up with stuff. But some things aren't meant to stay with us forever. A world ending can be a really good time to pause and rifle through all the shit we've collected (both real and metaphorical) and ask ourselves "does this thing bring me joy/serve me/feel good/feel like myself? Or is it part of my past?" This can be as literal as going through your wardrobe and donating, repurposing, or tossing clothes that no longer feel like you, or as metaphorical as recognizing a behavior pattern that used to keep you safe now makes your life harder.

5. Be in community. When the world ends, it can be tempting to retreat to ourselves, to find our metaphorical cabin in the mountains and wash our hands of the world believing there's nothing there for us. Solitude can be healing, can help us reconnect with ourselves and what we want, but we cannot stay there forever. Isolation will not keep us from being hurt. But building community, cultivating deep meaningful friendships, family (chosen or raised), and partnerships (if we want that) gives us the safety net we need to cross the tight wires of life again. Life can hurt. In ways that permanently change us, in ways that we never expected. But life will not hurt forever. You can survive the end of the world. You will survive the end of the world. More than likely, you already have. I am so glad you are here.

#coping #loss #relationships #depression #tw breakup #tw mental health #tw death

[memorydragon]

Yup, still on my gay coproganda bs.

One of the more interesting things about Jiang Ting's character is how much he doesn't actually want to be a character. His defense mechanism is to turn the question around. We first see this when Yan Xie confronts him the first time about being 'Captain Jiang'. He asks Jiang Ting what he has to say about all of the things he'd uncovered about Jiang Ting's past, and Jiang Ting's response is "What do you want 'Captain Jiang' to say? Tell me and I'll say it."

And he does this so often. He could lie, he could tell a half-truth, instead he asks what the other person wants to hear. What they want him to be.

And guess what? I'm totally normal about that. XD

The earliest memory we have of him is as a child, cleaning his father's body and being grateful that he wasn't beaten today. He's too young to understand that his father overdosed (we get no information about his mother) and is already dead. He's too young to realize that the majority of the people in his small village are either addicts or dealers, that it's a miracle he was born without HIV. When he's sent to the orphanage, he's isolated and bullied, internalized that he's unclean and unlovable when he looks in the mirror. When Yan Xie gets angry at the corruption in the orphanage Bu Wei grew up in, he just replies that 'It's like that, in places like these.'

When Ma Xiang confronts him, asking him who he is really. Is he the mole that got Yan Xie shot and nearly killed, lying on an operating room table while they waited for news? Jiang Ting says it himself, he's the most suspicious out of all of them, because even swept under the rug, the rest of the division Knows something is off about their 'Consultant Lu'. Jiang Ting doesn't define himself. He says "I'm who your Yan-ge thinks I am."

Yan Xie listens to the half-truths he's spun about himself after he dragged Jiang Ting out of the river, and Jiang Ting tells him: The safest thing for you is to hand me over to the police. I can't make myself believe you, because I have nothing now. I can't respond to this feeling, because I don't want to lie to you. Whether you hand me in or not is up to you.

He even does this to Wen Shao, when his loyality is probed. "What do you want me to say?" Except Wen Shao thinks he understands Jiang Ting the best, that only Jiang Ting understands him. Jiang Ting tells the truth then, that the one who understood his reasons wasn't him. Yan Xie was the one who correctly guessed the motives.

Because Jiang Ting has never been wanted as himself. He was the child of drug addicts, tossed into a orphanage where the corruption was rampant and money went into the adult's hands more often than not. When he finally found a friend, someone who liked him and didn't chase him away, his first thought is of saving his friend. Wen Shao has money and a family who loves him, so it's okay if he dies as long as Wen Shao lives. When his friend betrays him, saves himself first, Jiang Ting is happy.

Except his first friend, the person who says now everything I have is yours and you will be my only brother, the one person who likes someone like Jiang Ting, is the son of a drug lord. He forces the kidnappers who hurt them to take heroin, then turns to Jiang Ting and asks if he's happy now.

The child who watched his father overdose and has finally learned to understand what drugs are, is forced to watch more people die the same way by the one person who was supposed to love him.

He's happy. He's very happy. (The lie is so weak - he's ten years old and he's never had to hide himself like this before, despite everything. He's only just realizing that his first lie was already made, because he can't be loyal to Wen Shao, not like this. But he lies, because what else can he do? )

Wu Tun adopted him to keep his son, Wen Shao, in check. He's a pawn, put into a good school and groomed to be a policeman with padded pockets who will let the drug cartel off. He hates - hates - that he has no choice in this, he just has to become the pawn Wu Tun wants.

Wen Shao returns and he's brought new, even worse drugs with him. He wants his Red Queen on his side, gives Jiang Ting an apartment to rest in, to take care of things that would be 'inconvienent' otherwise, and Jiang Ting hates and hates even more.

So he plans to kill the King of Spades, then take out the Ace of Clubs. It can't erase what he is, but maybe he can move forward. All the over time, the stress, the loneliness will be worth it. (I'm so very very Normal about how he can't just agree to hanging out with his coworkers, how he over thinks and decides half way to take the agreement back and say 'let's talk about it tomorrow'. Because he wants to go, for the first time in his life he wants to do something as simple as going out with coworkers - possibly friends.)

Except he's been sold out. His plan falls through. His team dies and he'll never be able to talk about it tomorrow, and when he runs into the fire, all that's left for him is three years of being comatose and the King of Spades going free.

When he meets Yan Xie, he hides. He wants to be what Yan Xie wants him to be, but he can't. He's still tied as the Queen of Hearts, haunted by the sins he's committed and the people who died. He comments that Yan Xie is blind falling for someone like him, calling him beautiful all the time. That this crush that he'd never allowed himself to pursue has come back into his life and wants to be picked by him.

The Red Queen's heart that was so full of hate now has something else. But even if Yan Xie was blind now, would he still love Jiang Ting when he saw the truth?

He hides and he hides and lies, and when the cards are drawn, he finally tells the truth, finds something to define himself by. "I love you, Yan Xie."

Yan Xie's faith in him is already broken. It has to be broken further. The best lie is the one that is the truth that no one believes.

#Breaking through the Clouds #Huai Shang #This is Mem's life #Meta and things #This novel is actually a happy ending btw #This one is way less coherent than the previous post I wrote #but normal levels of Unhinged demanded I write more. #Also I adore how Ma Xiang and Han Xiaomei both come to the same conclusion as Yan Xie independently #like they both believe in Jiang Ting despite everything as well #Of course they've heard things #But they trusted in his actions instead of his words and I'm Normal about that #The whole department is just like so yeah we can't talk about Consultant Lu to any of the higher ups #And we're totally keeping the vice captain's piece on the side quiet #because obviously he's a cool guy? Ignore the fact he's supposed to be dead and sold out his previous team #Obviously Consultant Lu has only helped them. #Jiang Ting why are you like this let them love you

[foreverinadais]

memories: s.g

summary: steven was once your future. now, he’s your past, a memory- as much as you don’t want him to be. steven grant x reader  inspired by the song ‘memories’ by conan gray... so you know this is angsty. i can never find it in myself to end on angst, so there is fluff :) 

warnings: angst, angst, angst, sad steven, sad reader, this actually made me cry whilst writing, cussing  

word count: 2785 

It was raining. You could hear the distinct patter against the ledge of the window, could see the droplets of water barrelling down the surface, as if indulging in an intense race. It was funny, really. How the rain could bring so much comfort despite the connotations of sadness.

It was buried in all of literature and film, the dramatic rain scenes, lovers running into arms and kissing deeply, against all the odds, all the sorrow, as the rain batters down, unfelt to the intensity of the couple’s love. It was plastered in depressive monologues, the rain reflecting, personifying the words spoken, as if they are one.

But this rain… this was just rain. A show of nature. The start of a new life for plants and flowers and rainbows. It was just rain, and you were existing with it. It felt human; you needed that. Especially now. After a month of grieving someone who was still alive.

You were trapped in the memories of the past.

It was worse than any horror movie you’d ever seen. Everyone talks about ghosts, some horrifying ghouls who maliciously haunt innocent families, most often ending badly. OR the family ghosts, the ones which guide, guardian angels more so than evil spirits. But these ghosts, good or bad, are dead. Scary, yes, but there are more terrifying things.

Life. Living. Something that had become increasingly hard to do lately. Not that you didn’t love life. You enjoyed the little things; people walking their dogs, neighbours joking over fences, ice-cream on a hot day, the beat of rain against windows. Life could be beautiful. But the premise of what makes life beautiful was love. And you had lost that.

Steven Grant was alive and well. He was living in his flat with his fish and his books and his umbrellas. He was going to work at the museum every day where he just (finally) been promoted to a tour guide. He was getting his vegan wraps from the new boho pop-up food cart. He was happy. Content in living and his daily routines.

You had been cooped up in your flat for a month with your duvet and TV and movies. You were working the bare minimum to afford what you needed- a demotion if you will. You were devouring junk food some days and nothing at all the next. You weren’t happy. Content only when watching the worst horror films or indulging in fictional rain-drop races.

“So, what’s on tonight, then?”

“Well, I thought we could watch…” you flicked through the films until you landed on:

“The… Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Sounds rather gory.”

“Actually, it isn’t. The director wanted it to meet a wider audience, so they limited the gore, it’s more your imagination that fills in the gaps. Oh, and the fact it’s a true story. Actually, not really. That was a marketing technique. Still, scary all the same.” Steven looked down at where you were shuffling under his arm, chuckling as a said,

“Nerd.” You gasped in mock offence, hitting his shoulder lightly.

“Says you, Mr I-know-everything-about-anything Grant.” Steven shrugged.

“Both a blessing and a curse, eh?” You pout, Steven pecking your lips, “ ‘m sorry, lovie. Common, let’s watch the ‘Chainsaw somethin’ or other killing thing’.” You grin, pressing a big kiss against his cheek, and pressing play, already excitedly explaining another thing about the movie. Steven beamed; he could listen to you talk all day- and happily would.

You quickly clicked away from the title on the screen, heart skipping a beat as you were subtly reminded of your isolation. It was a hit in the chest, a way the universe was haunting you with what once was one of your favourite memories. You settled on Halloween instead.

A slight ‘buzz’ rang through your flat, breaking your attention away from Jamie Lee Curtis who had just appeared on the screen. You froze, pausing the movie and standing up. You felt your heart in your throat.

The rain, the doorbell, the movies… you felt suddenly prepared for a loving monologue from your past love, reminiscing on the good times and spouting cliches of ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love you’. It was certainly that time in the cheesy romcom, the ‘Love Actually’ or the ‘Letters to Juliet.’ You inhale, allowing the buzz to ring once more before you accept it.

The footsteps creep closer to your door, a gentle rush to them, and in your head, the words ‘here it is. Your moment.’ On the first knock, your practically swinging the door open, the wind helping your dramatic gesture to reveal-

“Good evening, I’ve got your order here, number 27?” Oh. You mutter your thanks, searching in your pocket for the tip you had pre-planned when you ordered the food an hour ago, and hastily took the delivery.

Life was not a movie. There were no big romantic gestures, no oversized notecards proclaiming love, no boom boxes blasting the words to your favourite song. There was no more him. You should’ve learnt your lesson when he left. But somehow, the cliches you had consumed left you with a sickening false sense of hope.

“So fucking messy. I can’t find anything in here.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t realise the clean police was gonna be over here. Otherwise I’d have made it nicer for you, your majesty.” You rolled your eyes at Steven’s sarcasm, digging around in yet another pile of books on his desk to find your resume.

“Piss off, Steven, this is important.” You watched as he all but stomped over to the desk, scanning the contents with his eyes before picking up the first bit of paper he saw- your resume.

“There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” His voice was laced with a sarcasm only he could have, cockiness in his demeanour. You snatched it off him, already agitated from stress and nerves. “A thank you would’ve been nice, manners an’ all that.” You groaned.

“I don’t need this today, okay?”

“What?? My help?”

“Your acting like an arsehole and you know it.” Steven scoffed, shaking his head at you.

“Oh yeah I’m the arsehole. Yeah, not you with your-your wants,” he begins to dramatically clean the desk, shoving books on top of each other, “and your needs,” he motions to your resume which your practically clutching in your hand, “and your bad manners.”

“Fuck you, Steven.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“There you go again. Looks like I’m right again, darling, don’t it?” You couldn’t bear his face any longer, which was a rare occurrence for you, and stormed out, door slamming behind you. It was a stupid fight, really stupid. But it built tensions, even after you had made up. A part of that was because you didn’t get the job. Subconsciously, you blamed the argument with him for that.

Your fingers traced down the spine of one of Steven’s books he had gifted to you on your birthday. He had found it in an old shop, annotated the pages based on what reminded him most of you, and left an inscription of the front page; ‘To my love on your birthday, may this remind you of us forever.’ It was hard to read it without tears forming in your eyes, without emotions clogging your throat and your heart-wrenching.

But you held it. Felt the hardback cover, rusting with antiquity. Flicked through the pages, flowing with reminiscence of times of love. Steven’s words were right. And now they were eternal. An eternal reminder of ‘us’, forever.

“We need to talk.” It was baffling how 4 words could have so much significance before anything was even uttered. But those words, those 4 words, changed everything. Yet, you agreed, sitting across from Steven where once you would’ve sat next to him, on him even. He had a grim look on his features, settling deep within his tired eyes, in the valleys of the crevices in his forehead.

“Okay.” It had felt different for a while. Things weren’t how they used to be. Things change, people change. Some things live but all things die. Yadayadayada.

After a while, you toned it out, the words flying over you and bouncing off the walls, meeting harshly in the middle to engage in battle. He was trying, really trying, to keep it together, to compose himself, because he knew it had to be done. He still loved you, of course he did, he always would.

But it wasn’t fair to keep watering a dead flower, willing it to be beautiful again.

“Say something? Please, lov- Y/N, say anything.” Oh. You hadn’t realised he’d stopped, hasn’t noticed his big eyes boring into yours, desperate and sad.

What was there to be said? Don’t leave? I still love you? I’ll never stop waiting for you? The monologues swirled in your mind as if scripted, a million combinations that had been said a million times before. But, with a heaviness in your heart you had never felt before, you settled on the 2 words which held great, heart-breaking significance; “Goodbye, Steven.”

And it was.

Steven Grant was leaving from your life. His presence, that once was engraved in your sofa, in your heart, was slowly loosening it’s grasp on your possessions. His smell from that cologne he had, the one he insisted on buying, was slowly dissipating from your sheets. His favourite mug in your home had sat untouched at the deepest corner of the cupboard.

What was left was quaint reminders of him, like ghosts, both the guardians and the ghouls. Or morsels of the past, microscopic evidence of the memories lived. When he had taken some of these reminders, that was worse than the initial break-up. It was like taking a part of your brain.

“I tried to, urh, get it all. Should be in there, if there’s anything else, feel free to, yeah, let me know.” Steven had passed you the box full of your possessions and you were staring into it. One of your tops, a snow globe, an earring, a mug. You swallowed harshly, nodding, putting it down on your bed before turning to get his box.

“Here, I tried to do the same.” You placed it into his open hands, the lump in your throat gradually growing, no matter how you tried to swallow it down. Steven glanced into the contents, mostly full of his books and his clothes and his colognes, before quickly looking back up at you.

“Your…” He tried to balance it on one hand, quickly realising that would fail, and putting it on the side. From here, he could easily pull out a book placed delicately on the top. “Your giving this back?” his voice was small as he held the book up, and you knew which one it was instantly. The one with the inscription, the one with the notes, the one with the love and passion and purity that would become corrupted with grief and pain and-

“It feels wrong to keep it. It says, says forever, you know?” He opened it, feeling the words with the pads of his fingers, tracing them as if trying to revive them out of the page. He was lost for a moment, before he shook his head.

“I can’t take it back. Just can’t.” He muttered, pacing forward and placing it in your hands.

“Please, don’t make this harder than it already is, Steven. Just, take the book.” You tried to remain calm, but your voice was breaking, mimicking your heart in your chest.

“No.” He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. “You need it. I need you… to have it.” You sighed shakily, looking at the book then at Steven.

“We can’t keep pretending, that this, we, could still exist. This is a reminder of that, of false hope and misleading endings.” You put it back into his hands, crossing your arms as a final answer. He exhaled as if in denial, looking at the physical memory in his hand, feeling the words screaming at him.

“Please.” He didn’t know what he was pleading for. For the past? Probably. For the future? Most definitely. For you? You. “It’s the last thing you ever need to do for me, ‘kay? Keep it. I-I’m begging you.” Perhaps it was the desperation in his features, or the fact that you couldn’t deny him anything, or the way your heart was swelling, and you just needed to cry, but you finally nodded, an ‘okay’ falling from your lips as you accepted the book in his hands.

It was a different kind of goodbye. A reminder. You held it in your hands for a few days, staring at in blanky, trying to recapture the exact feelings you felt when you had first been handed it. You had said goodbye to Steven again, and this time, it felt finite.

You were grateful he had convinced you to take the book. You were grateful to be reminded on the time you felt something eternal. Because how many people can say that? That they had a love good enough for movie screens?

The food was gone, and the movie was over. All that was left in your minuscule hidey-hole of the world was the rain. Still pattering down the windows, comforting in nature, providing company, reminding you were alive.

Knock knock knock.

Was that… no, couldn’t be. It must’ve been the wind, you reasoned, sensing the rain getting harsher, as if a storm was brewing. You stood anyway, switching off the TV, putting the rubbish from the food into the bin.

Knock knock knock.

Harder, this time, more determined. Oh. It wasn’t your imagination. There was somebody at the door, Your feet carried you over, your mind not bothered about your appearance or your mood. You had let your hopes get high once before, never again, you promised, as you unlocked the door and let it off the latch.

You opened up the door, a rush of cold air swooping through followed by a nostalgic and particular cologne… your eyes snap up instantly to meet his. His hair is dripping with the rain, a box of heart-shaped chocolates in his hand, his cheeks rosy from the distinctive London chill.

You rubbed your eyes, thinking, surely, that this is a memory, that your brain is playing it’s cruel tricks on you. But, no; he’s here. Breathing heavy, eyes watery, clothes damp, here.

“What are you…” you start, but you shake your head, already knowing the answer. You remind yourself, again and again, this isn’t a movie. “I’m sorry I forgot about your mug, it’s safe, don’t worry, still in the cupboard, I can grab it if you want-”

“I don’t want the mug. Well, actually, I do, I rather miss it sometimes. But, no, I want the mug here,” Your confused as he storms past you, setting the chocolates on the side and shaking off his jacket. “Look, leaving you was the worst mistake of my ‘hole life. I’ve read a lot of books, a lot, and-and thanks to you, I’ve watched tonnes of films, and all of them say the same thing about love. That it’s the greatest thing in the universe. And I believe that. But all these movies, all of literature, tries to say their love story is the best. But no, I don’t believe that. Our love is what the poets wish they had. Our love is what the actors aspire to show. But they never could, cause our love is the best there ever was. I guess I’m tryna say… will you marry me?”

But life was not a movie.

Steven was still at the door. There were no chocolates, no words spoken. There was just rain and cologne and breathing.

You looked at each other, a million words between the two of you, a million monologues to choose from. Flashes of the past, your past, swirled through the air, as if reaching around for the one who created it.

Steven went to speak, but stopped himself, exhaling as he looked at you. I’ve missed you, he wanted to say, but you knew that, could see it in his eyes. I need you, you wanted to say, but he knew that, could feel it in his heart.

So, he smiled. And you smiled back. All the words in his brain slowly settled into just one: “Hi.”

“Hi.” A new beginning. You stepped aside, a pure, real, smile on your face as he came into your apartment. And that night, an unspoken promise was created between the two of you-

There would be no more goodbyes. You would not become a memory again.

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