#I feel like my parents treatment towards us helped cause that rift and there are still preferences even now

[vexvamp]

'Cause every night I lie in bed The brightest colors fill my head A million dreams are keeping me awake I think of what the world could be A vision of the one I see A million dreams is all it's gonna take A million dreams for the world we're gonna make

-----

This art was made to go with my Lion Guard fan theory, which you can read below. Kion was drawn by me, but the background is made up of screenshots from the show.

The following is my fan theory/AU/headcanon, which I came up with to fit the Lion Guard show into the universe of the films. Extra info can be found in the description here . ----- Kiara and Kion were born to King Simba and Queen Nala, shortly after the death of their elder brother, Kopa, and the subsequent exile of Zira and her Outlanders. Though born from the same litter, the two of them couldn't have been more different. While feisty Kiara grew strong and healthy, little Kion struggled just to stay alive. He was weak, grew slowly, and was quick to fall ill. Kion was suffering from something the Pride Lander's called the Fading Sickness, which we know instead as an immunodeficiency disorder. No amount of Rafiki's healing mixtures could cure it, and Simba and Nala prayed to the Great Kings that their son would not go to join his grandfather among the stars. Kion's illness persisted from infancy to cubhood. He was smaller than his sister, underdeveloped, and spent most his time confined to Pride Rock. While Kiara began to explore the Pride Lands, Kion was rarely allowed outside for fear that he would catch sickness or overexert himself. Tensions grew between him and his sister, as Kiara secretly wished that she had a sibling who she could actually play with, while Kion resented the fact that she had all the freedoms he didn't. This would eventually culminate in Kiara wondering into the Outlands and meeting Kovu, and this was enough to shock Simba into action. He asked Nala's brother, Mheetu and his mate to move closer to Pride Rock with their two daughters, so that Kiara would have other cubs her age to play with. Kiara found her cousins, Tiifu and Zuri, a bit hard to relate to, but it was still a better alternative to playing by herself. Kion, on the other hand, usually found himself alone. His parents tried their best to spend time with him, but fear of causing him stress combined with the previous loss of Kopa meant that they often treated him as though he was made of glass. This would create a rift in their relationship and make Kion feel as though he couldn't really connect with them. The isolation, and the fact that he was often too tired to even walk the length of the cave, were wearing away at Kion's mind. The young cub was slowly slipping into a deep depression. It was Rafiki, the healer who was often called to help Kion when he fell ill, that began to tell Kion stories. Legends of the Pride Lands, stories of Kion's ancient ancestors, and tales of all the creatures he never got to see in the outside world. Among those stories were those of the Lion Guard, the band of lions which patrolled the Pride Lands and helped protect the Circle of Life. It was hoped that Kion himself might one day lead them, but his illness was making this seem less and less likely. Still, it gave Kion cause to dream. He fantasized about it as he stared at the paintings Rafiki drew for him on the walls of the cave, and through these fantasies he found an escape. He made friends from the characters on the walls, and envisioned himself as their leader. The birthmark on his shoulder became the Mark of the Guard, and his weak, fragile body was forgotten as he fantasized about his imagined power, the Roar of the Elders. The Roar was part of the legend of the first Guard and their leader, who was said to have a roar so powerful that it was as if all the lions of days past roared with him. Kion turned this legend into something fantastical and grand, imagining himself possessing a power so great it wouldn't matter that he was smaller and weaker than other cubs. These daydreams occupied him, his imaginary friends filling the blank spaces in his life, and he spent his days lost in fantasy as the powerful lion he could never be in the real world. Kion's health had its ups and downs over the years, but as he approached adolescence, he suddenly contracted an illness that he couldn't seem to recover from. His body raged with fever, and the young lion slipped into a near comatose state, lost somewhere between sleep and waking, with the illness pulling him ever closer towards oblivion. In this state his fantasies grew violent, with visions of fiery demons in volcanoes and a scar which corrupted his soul. As Kion's condition worsened, it was decided that he would be taken to Rafiki's tree, closer to the store of healing herbs and away from other lions that might transmit further infection. In his brief moments of consciousness, Kion pulled bits of the real world into his tumultuous fever dreams. Rafiki's tree became the Tree of Life, and paintings on the walls became part of his adventure to reach it. Through Rafiki's treatments, Kion would eventually be saved, but he was still confined to the tree when Kiara first reunited with Kovu, and during the final battle with Zira. He wasn't there to see his sister's wedding, but Kiara and Kovu came to visit him afterwards. Kion tried to be gracious, but couldn't help but feel envious of the happy life his sister was living. He was small, sick, and weak. With only a scrap of mane, he looked much younger than he really was. What lioness would have him? So once again he retreated into his fantasies, crafting a love interest for himself and imagining a happy ending to his story. Kion would return to Pride Rock shortly afterwards, unsure of where his place was in this new, blended pride. Worst of all was what came next, when Kovu's sister, Vitani approached Simba and Nala about the Lion Guard. The current Guard had no formal leader, and was made up of lions who were growing older and getting ready to retire. It was a Guard only in name, without the deep-seated traditions of those led by the relatives of the royal family. As the sister of the new Prince Consort, Vitani put forward that she could lead a new Lion Guard. After the death of her mother, she had found herself feeling a bit hopeless and lost, and thought perhaps this could be her new purpose in life. After all, Kion was far too sickly and weak to have any hope of forming his own Guard, so why not her? Simba said he would think about it, and Nala said that they should talk it over with their son. The king and queen saw sense in what Vitani was saying, thinking it might be a chance to really cement the Outlander's loyalty, but Kion was horrified by the suggestion. Although he knew his health made it unlikely, Kion had always dreamed of leading the Guard someday, and now Vitani wanted to take that away from him. Simba pled for him to see sense, and Nala assured him that he would always have a place in the pride, as a prince and as their son. After some persuading, Kion reluctantly agreed to think it over. In his fantasies he imagined Vitani's 'Guard' trying to challenge him and the imaginary partners he had fought alongside for so long. He drew further back into his dreams, fantasizing about a reality where he was loved and wanted and had a place as the ruler and protector of his own world. In the real world, Vitani seethed with frustration, knowing full well that Kion had no chance of leading the Guard, and angry at having her progress hindered by him. Why did he have to take this away from her? Her mother was gone. Nuka was gone. Her pride was scattered. This was all she had. It was only when Kiara came to her and explained all that Kion had gone through, admitting to her own undesirable feelings of resentment towards her brother, that Vitani began to think differently. Kion had spent his entire life locked away in that cave, with his fantasies about the Lion Guard as his only means of escape. Without the hope that he might one day recover and truly lead the Guard, what was left? What purpose did he have? Perhaps he and Vitani had more in common than she had first thought. Vitani went to Kion and confessed how lost she had felt since her mother died, how everything she thought she knew had crumbled, and she was just trying to find a place for herself in this new world. She said that she knew she couldn't replace Kion as the rightful leader of the Guard, but she would feel honored if he could help her become a leader the Guard could be proud of. Kion was struck by this. So often he had been coddled and treated as though he was too fragile to upset, with his family often reluctant to truly acknowledge his condition and what it meant for him. Something about Vitani's honesty struck a cord with him. He was forced to come to terms with the painful truth, but in so doing he found a sense of clarity. In his heart he knew what he needed to do. Kion agreed to help Vitani put together the new Lion Guard, with her as their leader. But even as leader Vitani came to Kion for advice and for guidance, and through this Kion finally found a sense of purpose. As time passed, Kion began to grow stronger. His maturing immune system gave him greater resistance to sickness and more energy to actually leave the cave which had been his prison for so long. Although he would still have occasional bouts of sickness, he was far more resilient than he had been in cubhood, and could use preventative measures to keep his health in check. He even found he now had the strength to accompany the Guard on the occasional mission, though he was primarily restricted to observation and instruction rather than any sort of physically demanding work. He would never be entirely rid of his condition, but he found a place in his family, in the Pride Lands, and in the Lion Guard. 

#The Lion Guard #The Lion King #TLK #TLG #Lion Guard #Lion King #Fan Theory #AU #Alternate Universe #Theory #Fan Art #Kion #Show #Movie #Animated #Cartoon #Series #My Art #VexVamp

[mlpdestinyverse]

“Rift”

Summer Rush of all ponies knows how hard it can be to keep a family together. This is especially the case when the one she wants to help feels so far away.

Feat:  Skychaser, Summer Rush

Story and Description Under The Cut!

Summer Rush: -swiftly flaps her wings and lands at the starting line of her backyard’s makeshift race track. Can feel her heart pounding in her chest after finishing eight laps, but focuses on wiping sweat off her forehead while evening out her breathing- Phew….(!) Whoa! -stumbles clumsily to catch a towel that had been thrown to her-

Lightning Dust: -lets out a light laugh, approaching her pre-teen daughter with her stopwatch- Easy, champ, don’t let a towel of all things get ya.

Summer: -giggles and uses it to wipe her forehead- How'd I do?

Lightning: You made your time! -grins and slaps Summer’s back with a wing, bringing an “oof” out of her- Great job, kiddo!

Summer: -frowns- Just my time…? -folds her towel and places it off to the side, her eyebrows knitting in disappointment- Dang...I really thought I did better that time…-blinks when she feels air being blown towards her, and realizes her mother is fanning her with a wing-

Lightning: Whoa now kid, what’s with that negativity? Making your time is better than nothin’! -pulls Summer in close to her side, as she tends to do- Make your time again and I’ll treat you after practice. And if you do better than your time, then we can go to any store you want, my treat. -her eyes crinkle and she begins playfully jabbing Summer’s cheek with a wing feather- Come oooon, what do you say?

Summer: -laughs heartily, feeling her spirits lifting- That sounds nice, mom, thanks. -deeply inhales and exhales, standing up straight and stretching out her wings- Okay…I got this…

-A loud muffled voice suddenly reaches her ears and Summer starts at it. She and Lightning both whip their heads towards their house, the source of the ruckus. To Summer’s concern, she realizes there are….two voices. Two familiar voices. Lightning’s demeanor immediately changes, a sour look crossing her face-

Summer: -glances at her mother tensely- Mom?

Lightning: (!) -quickly changes her expression, shooting a forced smile at Summer- Sunny dear, stay out here. I’ll handle this. -trots to the house-

-A few seconds after Lightning enters, Summer disregards her warning and quickly gallops over. She carefully steps close to the door, and realizes her mother had accidentally left it open a crack. Ducking as not to be seen from the door’s window, she peers into the crack. Just as she had feared, her parents are standing in the middle of the room, with Lightning’s back towards her.  They’re both facing a teenaged colt who’s scowling deeply at them- ‘Skychaser…’

Dumbbell: -appears to be answering a question Lightning had asked- Yeah...I caught him trying to sneak out again.

Lightning: -eye twitches- Ugh...once again wandering off to Celestia knows where, Sky.

Skychaser: -snorts- Your repetitive input is exciting, but I’ll be taking my leave-

Dumbbell: -blocks Sky’s way with his large brown wing, glaring- And just where are you going?

Skychaser: -laughs dryly -Are you serious? If I didn’t tell you the first six times, why the hell would I tell you now? -scoffs and glances back at Lightning. Summer shivers. The warm orange eyes she had once known were now sharp and cold- What, you think I’m scared of mom?That’s cute.

Dumbbell: -glowers- I know you’re up to no good, boy. -purposefully towers over him, in an attempt to intimidate him- Don’t think I don’t know about those bruises you’re hiding underneath that hoodie.

Summer: -suppresses a gasp, quickly examining Sky from her position. If she looks close enough, she can just faintly catch a glimpse of faint purple near his flank, peeking out from under the bottom trim of his hoodie-

Skychaser: -tenses, taking a step back. Hisses, in hopes of derailing- How would you ”know”? If that’s not creepy, I don’t know what is.

Lightning: -eyes burn into him- What are you doing out there?

Skychaser: “Doing”? Whatever I feel like doing. Like it matters-

Dumbbell: It matters if you’re out there getting into fights! Do you want to cause trouble for us that badly?!

Skychaser: Ah of course, family image. Why am I not surprised. Pft, if you’re so worried, then no. I’m NOT a scrapper. Now then- -Dumbbell, again, blocks his way the moment Sky tries to leave-

Lightning: -impatiently taps her hoof- Okay. We’re going to ask again. Where. Are you. Go-

Skychaser: -the pent up frustration and stress within him flares and he growls, whirling his head in Lightning’s direction and shouting- Why do you even fucking CARE where I go?! It’s not like it even MATTERS if I’m here or not! -his glare darts between his parents- It LITERALLY makes NO difference, so STOP pretending-

Summer: Stop!

-Sky freezes in place, his aggression quickly dissipating. Looking behind Lightning he now notices Summer shakily standing within the doorframe, fearfully staring at him-

Summer: -with a quiet voice- Sky...p-please. We don’t have to fight...

-Their gazes meet and for a moment, a flicker of the gentle brother she once knew was there. But just as quickly, mixed emotions flash across Sky's face, most of which she can not read. But before she even has the chance to, Skychaser pulls his hood over his head and quickly trots pass Dumbbell, who doesn’t stop him this time.-

Summer: (!!) SKY, wait!

-Before she can pass her mother, Lightning blocks her with her wing. With her blue eyes focused on Sky, Summer misses the pleased smile just ghosting Lightning’s muzzle as she watches Sky rush out the door-

Lightning: Summer-

Summer: -stares up at her with wide eyes- W-why didn’t you stop him?

Lightning: -frowns- He was going to find a way to leave the moment we left him alone anyway. -sighs deeply, as if to let out any stress- You know he wants nothing to do with us...he just won’t listen.

Summer: But...i-if I could just talk to him-

Lightning: Sunny. I know you’re worried. But I also keep you away from him because I don’t want you exposed to that kind of unhealthy behavior. You don’t need that kind of stress. And besides...there’s just no convincing him.

Summer: But I don’t want to convince him! -stares at her hooves, biting her lip- ...I just want him to know we’re here for him. -feels her eyes mist- ...why are things like this...?

Lightning: -something glitters in her eyes and she gently places her hooves on her daughter’s shoulders- Now now…. it’s not your fault. Sky’s the one being dramatic and ridiculous. Quitting his training, and then being bitter towards you for taking it up instead? -sighs dramatically, shaking her head- He’s become a rebellious teenager. He can’t accept his own shortcomings. That’s all there is to it. And he’s ready to bring anyone down with him to feel better. Some ponies are like that, Summer.

Summer: ...but this isn’t him. -glances back up at her mother, expression reflecting grief- This isn’t who he is. I know it isn’t…

Lightning: -gently envelops Summer with her wings, pulling her into an embrace. While Summer buries her face into her mother’s shoulder, Lightning keeps her calculating gaze on the front door- Jealousy and resentment can really change a pony, Summer...

All will come to light in the next story part (”Two Lies and a Truth”), which takes a step back in the past to see the full picture.

As you know, in his preteen years, Skychaser finally had enough of his emotionally abusive treatment. Not only did he drop his flight training, but he rebelled against his parents in any way he could. Talked back, grew his hair out, got his ears pierced, let his grades slip and snuck out to be by himself whenever he could. "Typical teenage rebellion". Unfortunately, by being out on the street, Sky garnered the attention of some not-so-friendly street-goers who...enjoyed using him as their punching bag from time to time.

His bitterness just grew and grew. Summer noticed the change, but Sky dismissed it as nothing and kept to himself, keeping the harsh truth away from his far-too-innocent little sister.

That is, until almost two years after he quit. Lightning gave up on getting Sky back and began to train Summer instead.

Sky did not respond well to this. But more importantly, Lightning did not respond well to him.

#Destinyverse #Lightning Dust #Dumbbell #my little pony #Summer Rush #Skychaser #mlp #mlp oc #mlp art #story

[masterxsquare-blog]

You know what really doesn't help motivate me to write Eraqus? Going into his tag, or the bbs tag and finding Eraqus hate, or rants about how Eraqus was the real villain of bbs, or how Eraqus was abusive to his students.

Before you ask, I'm not going to follow this post up with a '#eraqusdidnothingwrong' tag, because Eraqus made his share of mistakes in BBS. He's not entirely blameless.

Do I think he was abusive to the wayfinder trio? No. People are quick to say Eraqus is responsible for Terra going down the path he took, because he held Terra back during the mark of mastery exam. Because Terra had darkness in his heart. Because Terra couldn't keep his darkness in check.

Eraqus relationship with Terra isn't abusive, I would however go so far as to say it was more neglectful. Now, some people tend to consider Neglect a form of abuse. Abuse is something you intentionally do. Neglect is unintentional.

There are three points people often bring up against Eraqus. His treatment of Terra, his opinions of light and darkness, and, of course, the major elephant in the room, him trying to kill Ventus.

Going back to his neglecting of Terra, and how people, apparently, call Eraqus' treatment of Terra 'abuse', here's where I feel this is not Abuse, but that Eraqus was neglectful of the big problem surrounding Terra. Eraqus has likely been training Aqua and Terra from a very young age, he's not just their teacher, but their parental figure as well, and he has raised the two of them to be fine keyblade masters. With Terra viewing Eraqus as the father he never had, what boy wouldn't want to make his daddy proud? But with that desire to make Eraqus proud, also comes the doubt that he won't be good enough to make Eraqus proud. Not only does doubt come into play, but maybe also a hint of jealousy towards his fellow student? After all, Aqua excelled in magic while Terra seemed more focused on improving his physical strength. Of course, Eraqus had always been proud of his students, why wouldn't he be? Eraqus either knew about this and chose to do nothing in hopes that Terra would correct it on his own, or Terra was really good at hiding his insecurities to the point that no one noticed, and it allowed the darkness in him to manifest.

Then comes the day you've been waiting for, the mark of mastery exam. The day Terra and Aqua have spent their whole lives preparing for. Eraqus even stated before the sparring match that this wasn't about winning or losing, but it's a sparring match, and Terra is determined to win. Aqua gets a momentary upper hand, and suddenly all those doubts come back and manifest in a little burst of darkness. That right there is an automatic red flag for Eraqus. The mark of mastery is about demonstrating a mastery of one's own heart, and that momentary slip up shows that Terra has not mastered himself yet.

Imagine, if you will, that you are in driver's ed., youve spent your entire course working towards getting your license. Your teacher tells you that if you keep at it, you're guaranteed to pass the final exam. Then, after all that build up, you blow a red light on the driving test and your teacher fails you on the spot. The instructor tells you that you did everything else right, but that mistake at the red light is an automatic fail, because that mistake could cost you your life, the lives of the people in your vehicle, and the lives of those around you.

Terra's momentary manifesting of the darkness made from his doubts is the same as you blowing that red light. He didnt keep his heart in check and allowed his doubts to get the better of him. Eraqus even states, after the exam that he would have made Terra a master in a heartbeat, if it were up to him, but he can't so long as Terra can't keep his heart in check. What if Terra gives in again? What if the next time his darkness manifests, someone gets hurt? What if the darkness in his heart proves too strong for Terra to control?

Eraqus gives Terra a second chance, which is sending him off to protect the worlds from the Unversed. However, Eraqus neglects to address the problem of where Terra's darkness came from, and how to overcome it. More than likely, like before, Eraqus trusts that Terra will be able to sort it out himself. As a precaution, he sends Aqua to keep an eye on him, in case his fears are realized and Terra loses control.

He neglects the obvious problem, a problem he may have had a hand in unintentionally making. It's not as though Eraqus began berating Terra and calling him a failure, he gave him another chance, he offered Terra assurance, not harsh remarks.

The one who twisted Eraqus' words and intentions around was Xehanort. He is the one who stoked the dark flames in Terra's heart, told him what he wanted to hear, and also fed him lies to fill in the gaps.

What Eraqus should have done was call an end to the mark of mastery exam, and speak with Terra directly about him manifesting the darkness, find the root of the problem and nip it in the bud. What he did was negligence, he turned a blind eye to a serious problem, but he never abused or berated Terra over it.

What also didn't earn Eraqus any points was sending Aqua off go spy on Terra. What Eraqus did was out of parental concern for one of his students, his child. However, because of Xehanort twisting the truth, Terra saw it as a lack of trust.

Next, let's talk about one of the other strikes against Eraqus that people love to bring up. His feelings about the darkness.

Eraqus is a keyblade master, he has been trained to be one from a young age, just like Terra and Aqua. And one of the duties of a keyblade master is to protect the worlds from the darkness. Now, some claim the Eraqus' bias borders on bigotry (don't ask me how this applies to a metaphysical concept like light and darkness in everyone's hearts, I'm not having this argument today.). Maybe his opinions were made that way by the order of the keyblade wielders, or maybe Eraqus has seen what the darkness can do to a man, considering the path Xehanort went down when he became obsessed with the keyblade war. It's possible that Eraqus took his duty to preserve the light so seriously that it altered perception, that light = good and darkness = bad. We don't know the full story regarding Eraqus' feelings and resentment of the darkness.

We don't know what caused the rift that grew between him and Xehanort. Considering Xehanort's journals have him say he once considered Eraqus a brother. We don't know what pushed Eraqus to go from protecting the worlds to 'let the darkness die!'

We know what happened as a result of the rift. Xehanort left the land of departure, gave Eraqus his scars, and then went to experiment on Ventus. We don't know the root cause. What made Eraqus take the stance he did against the darkness? An overzealous sense of duty? Maybe. He saw what the obsession turned Xehanort into? Possibly. We won't know for sure. It could be answered in KH3.

Eraqus bias towards the darkness and that light is right is a skewed viewpoint. But while Xehanort talks about true balance, let's also remember that this is the same guy who drowned the worlds in darkness, twice. Somewhere along the way, these two friends lost sight of the path.

He is biased though, there's no denying that. Does that really make Eraqus a bad person though? Zealous, yes. Villainous, not really, we all have our personal bias

Finally, we get to the 'killing Ventus' portion of the argument. (I've spent most of the day writing this on my phone while I should be working.)

Let's imagine the scenario. First, your fellow apprentice who you once considered a brother has turned down the dark path and left after you two had a fight. Years later, you find out that friend has been experimenting on a boy and nearly destroyed him and left him a vegetable. You would hope that this mistake would turn Xehanort from the dark path. You agree to take the boy in to help him recover.

Time goes by, Ventus recovers, forms a bond with Terra and Aqua. Much like Aqua and Terra, you come to think of Ventus as one of the family.

Okay, so the mark of mastery exam didn't go as planned. Aqua was the only one who ascended to the rank of master, Terra is showing signs of darkness, and now Ventus has run off for reasons unknown.

It's possible Eraqus had Aqua sending back reports regarding Terra's current state, and her reports haven't been very good. Citing the number of worlds Terra visited where he reportedly helped cause chaos. Things aren't looking good for Terra, and Ven still hasn't come home.

Suddenly, Ventus comes home, and he's not happy. He's learned the truth of his origins, and what Xehanort did to him. He knows he's a component to forge the x-blade, and you realize Xehanort never abandoned his ambitions, merely put them on hold.

What do you do? Track down Xehanort and try to stop him directly? No one knows where he is. Find the boy in the mask who is made of Ventus' darkness? Finding him is as hard as finding Xehanort. You have only one option to prevent the creation of the x-blade... and that's to kill your student.

To your surprise, Ventus seems willing to go along with it. He doesn't want to be used as a tool to hurt Terra and Aqua. You can even hear the regret in Eraqus' voice when he says 'you must exist no more.'

It's possible, that if Terra hadn't intervened, things might have gone differently, Eraqus might have stopped himself. Much as he wants to prevent another keyblade war, can he really bring himself to kill one of his students? One of his children? He probably would have stopped himself, and tried to find another way.

The problem is that an already tense situation is thrown into chaos by the arrival of Terra, who has grown stronger with the darkness. One of your students is key to a madman's plan to cause a universe ending catastrophe, and another has given into a chaotic force that brings only corruption. You are now enraged, and blinded by your own grief and inability to see the writing on the wall.

He neglected Terra and he caused this, he didn't stop the spread of Terra's darkness and allowed him to fall into Xehanort's hands, and now he's trying to fight Eraqus with that dark power.

The situation has spun out of control, Ventus has been blown away to who knows where, and Terra and Eraqus are at each others throats. It's exactly how Xehanort wants it to go.

And of course, we all know how it ends for Eraqus.

From the dialogue, and the fact that Eraqus and Terra quickly lost control of the situation, and the dialogue from Eraqus, you can tell he doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to hurt Ventus, he doesn't want to fight Terra. He is torn. Torn between his duty as a keyblade master and his duty as a teacher and caregiver. No matter how the situation plays out, no one benefits from it... except one guy, Xehanort.

Eraqus is by no means a perfect character, he's made mistakes, so have a number of the other characters. He is neglectful, he is biased, but he is not abusive, and he is not the villain here.

As I said before, I'm not going to tag this with a '#eraqusdidnothingwrong' tag. I will however, tag this with a #stoptheEraqushate tag. I'm sick of seeing posts showing up in the various KH tags talking about how Eraqus is the real villain, and dragging him through the mud. Especially posts that claim they aren't Eraqus hate, but they don't like the character and still tag their posts as Eraqus hate.

Eraqus is human, he makes mistakes, he has his imperfections.

Let he who is without sin cast the first stone... hey! Put that rock down!

#outofchess(ooc) #rant #negative #stoptheeraqushate #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts birth by sleep #eraqus #xehanort #terra #ventus #aqua #tw: abuse mention

[comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog]

billy “carlos” harris

This isn’t the make-a-wish foundation, fuck off.

Carlos has been accepted! Please send us your blog and a faceclaim to be featured on the main blog!

out of character info

Name/Alias: fuckin me again Pronouns: fuck/fucker/fuckself Age: 19 Join Our Discord: ye Timezone:  est Activity: u know me Triggers: none fuckers Password: jimmy can fast pass my ass Character that you’re applying for: Billy/Carlos Favourite ships for your character: nothing and/or chemistry

in character info

Full name: William Carlos Harris / “Carlos” Birthday: July 3 Sexuality, gender, pronouns: Straight, cis male, he/him Age and grade: 15 sophomore

Appearance:

Carlos is about 5’9, making him one of the tallest out of his classmates, at least, for now. Though he isn’t very tall, he was usually rather lean throughout his life, until he started to get sick and lose some weight. He isn’t necessarily boney, but he’s rather thin, since he tends not to gain much weight no matter what he does. He’s pretty much as white as the next guy during the winter, but he tans very easily. However, more recently he takes some pretty hardcore precautions to avoid skin cancer by wearing loads of sunscreen –– by his mother’s demands –– so throughout high school his skin has stayed rather pale. He prefers to be pale anyways, so it doesn’t matter much to him; he doesn’t want his skin to become dark and wash out his light brown hair which he sometimes plays with by lightening it, either at the barber/salon or by putting something in his hair to make it lighten by itself in the sun, letting it pop up from under the visor that he has to wear to protect his face in the summer. When growing it out it’s wavy, and though it’s all cut short every few months, Carlos has his hair longer on the top for most of the year.

Despite a diverse wardrobe filled with many different stylish pieces, when you break down his outfit combinations they tend to be pretty similar, at least in shape. He’ll wear a baggy shirt or sweater and/or jacket or hoodie, with much less baggy pants, and even skinny jeans or chinos. On special occasions he can be seen in nice button ups and pants, or even a suit. Carlos does like hats, particularly beanies or backwards baseball caps, however he doesn’t go for the hat if he doesn’t feel like it ‘vibes’ with his outfits. He has to have at least one accessory, however, and if it’s not a hat it’ll be sunglasses, a watch, or a necklace. What he lacks in his body type he makes up for in stylishness, as he’s not afraid to take risks and to bring bold styles he sees on tv or magazines into his world to act like he’s not just a cool guy, but he’s a cool guy who dresses better than you AND your girlfriend.

Personality: 

Unaffected by most of the worries that catch his peers, Carlos is used to the unfair, painful aspects of life that others aren’t used to experiencing regularly. Carlos a little punk. He’s used to dropping everything to do something new, whether it’s what he wants to do, or if it’s just being forced on him –– of course, the former is his preference. He loves to live wild and free, sneaking into parties when he can, longboarding around the town with his friends, doing graffiti and other petty crimes. Like most people who share his struggle with illnesses he doesn’t feel bitter about his lot in life. However, that isn’t to say he isn’t a sweet little angel whose kind and suffers quietly. He doesn’t really care what people say; he’s never one to take things to heart, though, living life day by day with hardly a care in the world. Or, rather, with as little care as he can survive with.

Some thing most people don’t see besides his classmates is that, while most people see a sad, suffering little boy, his peers know to be something of a fuckboy. He only talks to girls on Snapchat, and acts like iMessage doesn’t exist. He wears soccer socks with adidas slides way beyond the soccer season. He has the classic fuckboy haircut. Okay, so he kinda respects women as much as any fifteen year old boy can, and he’s not seriously asking girls to bang, but he does talk shit about his mother, and he will like a girl’s instagram but won’t text her back, so he can’t help but give off the fuckboy vibes. In reality, he’s just trying hard to be a normal kid and live a normal live, since he doesn’t know how long he’s really got, and doesn’t want to spend his time isolated because of it.

History:

William Harris was born to Sloane Harris and a Mexican immigrant named Javier Silva on July 3rd. All was well in his life, playing around with the other kids at preschool, loving sports like soccer and lacrosse, until he started feeling sick around five years old he was diagnosed with lung cancer. The arguments between his parents that the diagnosis resulted in caused a rift between Sloane and Javier, as Sloane believed that, despite her family history of the disease, her son’s lung cancer was caused by Javier’s chain-smoking. As the fighting got worse and worse between his two parents, little Billy, as his mother called him, kept getting sicker and sicker. As he was getting sick, his father was kicked out of the home, and went to work on a ranch in New Mexico. William was upset by this, after all the years he has spent with his dad sitting on his lap watching movies and sports, and started to go by the name his father wanted for him, his grandfather’s name — Carlos. 

He was treated with chemotherapy when he was five, spending most of his kindergarten year in the hospital. Luckily for him, he was able to keep up with the learning by having his mother speak closely with the school and ensure his education while he was being treated for his lung cancer. He learned his shapes, colors, letters and numbers, and was able to remotely pass kindergarten and spend the summer recovering. He returned to the second grade a new kid, asserting himself as an important part of the classroom and getting closer with the kids in his year. This wasn’t all without complications, however –– he still went in for a lung transplant at some point in the fifth grade, something the doctors suggested if he was ever planning to play sports. It was back to the hospital for a bit, when they found more cancer cells growing in his body. They caught it early, though, and treated it quickly, so he was back to school in no time. 

In middle school, his resentment towards his mother for forcing his father out returned onto the board again in a greater magnitude than before, fueled by those new teenage emotions, prompting him to write to Javier to try to build a relationship with him. Soon enough he was being driven two hours south to see his father on long weekends, vacations, and other parts of the year, which his mother, who wanted to make him happy, wasn’t particularly happy about –– even if research showed that his father’s second hand smoke didn’t led to his childhood cancer, but instead it was a prominent family history of cancer on her side of the family, (which Carlos pointed out must’ve been the case after shoving all that secondhand smoke research into her face.) He was back with his parents again, and despite the tension that persisted from the awkward arrangements and meetings, he was going into high school ready for anything. 

Carlos was even prepared when he was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia at the end of his freshman year. After knowing his family history, as well as receiving chemo as much as he had, he wasn’t surprised. His doctors and family knew that this was bound to happen, and they were happy to have found it in it’s early-stage, meaning he wouldn’t have to worry about treatment nor the risks of it until it got to the point where treatment became necessary and helpful. He was thankful that this time he didn’t have to be the sick kid who was always out of school, who was always leaving class to throw up, who couldn’t play sports or climb the rope at gym class. The only complication he had to really worry about for now was a lowered immune system, but that wouldn’t stand in his way –– he didn’t care what he shouldn’t have been doing. He’d still eat gross things for dares, kiss strangers (if they’d let him,) and was obsessed with doing whatever the other boys his age did, and even taking it above and beyond. Even with his illness, he was able to focus on being himself and being a kid, and he wasn’t worried about how long he had left until his illness got more aggressive –– he learned to live in the now. So he did.

Sample paragraph: 

Soccer practices were always a little much for the tired boy, but none other had compared to this one. He knew it was the first practice of the year and he wanted to make an impression on the coach, saying that he was capable of playing hard. Unfortunately, he was harboring a massive headache and it only got worsened by the noises that surrounded the teen on the field. The sharp sounds of whistles being blown and the shouts of the cheerleading team practicing hurt like hell. The cheerleaders weren’t even supposed to be on the field this afternoon, but due to some poor scheduling, the soccer team had to split half the field with them –– because god forbid the football team have to split their field instead. That, of course, was a ton of distraction for the boys on the football team, and it only made the practice seem longer and earned the team some running laps. 

“Alright team, ten minutes of running around the field! And I don’t want to see any wimpy running, I wanna see Forrest Gump, not Tommy Boy!” The team groaned, and Carlos went to his bag, removing his socks, shinguards, and shirt. Though he didn’t really have anything to show off there like the rest of the boys did, he wanted to beat the heat, and didn’t care if he made people look at his thin, pale arms because of it. Popping a few Tylenols for his headache, among other aches and pains, Carlos threw his bag back to the bench and started running to catch up with his team. Ten minutes of running with complaining teammates, some guys faking tying their shoes so they didn’t have to run, and a lot of sweat was probably the worst part of that practice, but soon after they were able to leave for the locker rooms. The surrounding sweaty and stinky boys became invisible to him once he stepped into the shower, turning it on and letting the icy cold water pour over him. That certainly eased him.

Headcanons: 

rly likes post malone

hates the whole “wow, he’s a miracle”, “he’s so brave”, or any other well-intentioned bullshit comments regarding his ‘ongoing battle’, or whatever. he isn’t here for some pity party where people make themselves feel good for cherishing the sick kid.

got one ear pierced because he thought it was cool. two days later he thought it looked stupid and now he doesn’t wear an earring at all.

brings his longboard to school and tries to ride it in the halls sometimes. also wears a thrasher hoodie. (yes, the two are connected.)

highkey thinks neymar jr is jesus. is rly into soccer.

once tried to go cow tipping but then he sneezed too loud and the cow  woke up and walked away

still dabs in 2018. like the dance move, not drugs

but he also smokes weed

Anything else: fc is ricky garcia

sry my writing is bad and also kill me

#Accepted #kills u #billy harris #submission

[scriptautistic]

@demonsparrow submitted the following:

Hi! I’m a fairly recent follower to your blog and I love all of your posts so far. Lately I’ve been toying with the idea of writing an autistic character and a friend I tend to bounce ideas off sometimes gave me an idea. I write mainly in a fantasy setting where just about everyone has some form of magic or another, and many people have healing magic. Now, the idea was for the autistic child to be brought by narrow-minded parents to a healer with low morals to try to “cure” him (and ultimately the cure not working). I realize this is entering very sensitive territory, so I want to incorporate things that show that I, the author, am not the one who thinks that autistic people need/want a cure and that is the views of those three characters only. What are some good ways I could go about this? So far I have:

-the boy’s older sister finding out and advocating on her brother’s behalf (both to their parents, and the healer, who happens to be her brother in law)

-the boy being encouraged by his sister and her husband, the main characters of the story, to be proud of himself

-for his birthday he is given gifts from siblings pertaining to his special interest as well as stim toys

For character development reasons I don’t think I can make the healer character revise his opinion (he is meant to be a major antagonist in the story and has poor morals on a lot of other things as well) but I am open to other suggestions, as well as suggestions on other ways to go about this in the best way possible.

Thank you for your time!

Hi, there, thanks for the follow and the question! This is sensitive territory, but I’m glad you’re interested in writing about it from an opposing stance. Sensitive topics need to be addressed too, and how better to address them in a story people can read and relate to characters in. 

The following answer includes discussions of parents looking for cures and abusive/dangerous processes which result from cure-seeking.

Because this post gets into the discussion of cure-seeking culture in real life, there are some discussions of abuse and parents putting children in dangerous situations. It’s very apt that you are structuring the story so the parents take him to get the “cure,” as this parallels what parents in the real world do with their autistic kiddos. I’ll get into that in a bit after I discuss how to portray to readers that this fake cure is bad news. You have good ideas and intentions, so I’ll help come up with some ideas on how to carry them through.

It’s a good idea to set up the antagonist as the person who looked to cure the autistic character. This negativity will be associated with cure-seeking. It’s also a good idea to have the good characters in the story be associated with advocacy for him, acceptance, and love for him. They do not need to be the only ones advocating for him though. You could definitely also have the main character be very opposed to being cured himself, in a variety of ways:

He could be incredibly offended, hurt, angry, etc. that his parents or others believe something is wrong with him like a disease. Maybe he has seen others healed for certain diseases and he knows he has none of those, and doesn’t suffer a physical ailment.

He may understand magic himself and know to some extent the cure will not work. Maybe he knows the antagonist mage does some sketchy things to make money or gain influence or power. He might communicate the whole thing puts him in a panic or gives him a bad feeling, if he even knows it’s going to happen. Perhaps the “cure” hurts and his parents push him to/make him endure it and he knows something is wrong, something’s not right about it, but is just trying to make them happy and do as he is told because they are his parents and he may love and/or trust them.

Another way to show the readers the cure-seeking behavior is very wrong: some aspect of it may be non-consensual. Maybe his parents tricked him to get him to follow them to the mage for the “cure.” Maybe he was knocked out while the fake cure was administered. If he finds out what was done, he may feel very violated. He may be told by them that whatever procedure is done to him is for his benefit but they don’t tell him what for, and he trusts them and only finds out later what they’ve done.

The situations I just described parallel what many parents wish they could have for their children in a cure and what they do in cure-seeking without their child’s understanding or consent. Many autistic children and adults are abused in situations wherein under-educated or negligent parents, or parents who play the victim to their child’s “condition,” subject their child to pointless or even dangerous methods in order to try to cure them. The following bullet point list includes fake cures people have tried in real life which are abusive and pseudoscience (skip past the list if you would prefer not read). Some examples of this are:

Some people try chelation therapy - heavy-metal flushing from the blood - because people think heavy metals cause autism. The link included discusses this is likely a dangerous treatment.

Mod Cat answered a question about Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) which goes into why that isn’t helpful and is harmful instead.

There was an article I read a couple years ago about the rise in the use of dangerous chemical children inhale or drink in France which are given to autistic children by their parents to try to cure them without their consent, when these chemicals are toxic to ingest or breathe in.

There was a fake treatment which turned out to be bleach targeted towards those who want to cure their autistic children.

Facilitated Communication is a disabled-child-ouija board, per say, that an “assistant” controls the child’s hands with to communicate with the parent. The assistant and parent think they’re helping, but the child isn’t using the system to communicate at all, it’s the assistant who is controlling the entire exchange. The technique has been upended as pseudoscience, as you can read in the wiki article link about it. There have been several controversies surrounding its use and multiple criminal cases. One was a mom who drowned her autistic son because the “assistant” used the child’s hands to tell the mom he wanted to die.

Some parents end up institutionalizing their child(ren), thinking people in the institution will help. Some of those workers with whom they entrusted their child end up abusing them, i.e. restraints for hours. I’m not going to include a link. If you go looking for any information on this, be very careful.

Many parents who would want a cure go seeking one without their child’s consent. If a cure was discovered, even if it’s not a real cure, parents would likely fly to it to help their autistic child or reduce the burden autism has on them (in no way are autistic people truly a burden, but many parents are convinced they are the victim and wrongly treat their child this way), without even questioning the child if it’s something they want or by convincing the child it’s the best option.

I include what fake cures parents have tried in reality to illustrate how dangerous they are, and you may parallel this in your fantasy story by having the fake cure be very dangerous to your character, and cause a rift in the relationship between him and his parents, or strengthen that rift if it was already there. His parents might have the best intentions but end up being really uninformed or selfish, or might be incredibly abusive. Either would be accurate for the cure-seeking behavior. Fantasy imitates reality, and that abusive cure-seeking is the gritty reality of it. The biggest way to show you, as an author, think the fake cure is bad is to show exactly how harmful it is to your character. There are lots of ways to do so, and you can make it as severe as you want, depending on what level of emotionally difficult writing you feel capable of doing. As long as the reader can empathize with the character’s pain, you’ve done what your goal is as an author. 

Here’s a great post about how to convey any character’s actions are wrong.

 - Mod Siena

Like my work? Buy me a coffee! // Here’s our FAQ

#mod siena #submission #question #cure cw #abuse cw #character development #parenting #bad parenting #fantasy

[radioactivedelorean]

Forgiveness

Ford could hear the excited chatter filtering through the windows in his room. It sounded like everyone outside was having a great time. He buried himself further in the blanket on the sofa he was sleeping on. He pulled the blanket over his head and curled up. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to make a sound, fearing someone would hear him and then their fun would be interrupted. It would be ruined, just like everything else he ruined. He wasn’t welcome at the party, anyway. He wasn’t welcome anywhere.

The reason he felt this way? Guilt. Crushing, deafening, overwhelming guilt. Everything that had happened to the town over the past week was his fault. He brought about the apocalypse and his family had to suffer as a result. Heck, he erased his own brother’s mind because he was too much of a damn coward to let someone kill him as soon as Bill entered his own mind. A swift bullet through the center of his head would have done it. But no, he had to let his brother pay for his mistakes. Again. All Stanley ever did was help him, support him, protect him, and what had Ford done in return? Exile his brother, treat him like shit, punch him and erase his mind. Stanley had worked for thirty years on that portal trying to bring Ford back and the elder twin had never thanked him. Not once. He’d only done it so Stanley would hold his hand in that circle, but even then Ford had messed the whole thing up. For the sake of sheer arrogance, he had corrected Stanley on his grammar and the whole circle was ruined.

It wasn’t the first thing he’d ruined.

All Ford ever did was use his brother as a shield. The whole time through school, Stanley had protected his brother from bullies, given up his own dreams to support and protect Ford and what had Ford done? Turned his back on his brother as soon as Stanley had the first hint of a selfish thought. What a hypocrite. Everything Ford had done was for himself. He was the selfish one. The arrogant one. The screw-up. The freak.

Ford knew he deserved this treatment. He didn’t deserve to be forgiven for all the pain he’d caused. All the trouble. All the horror, fear, injuries, damage. Everything had been his fault. He’d made a deal with Bill in the first place, all to chase his own selfish desires. He built the portal, despite Fiddleford giving him all those warnings to dismantle the damn thing while he had the chance. He refused, Fiddleford was traumatized and the man lost his mind, all a result of Ford’s selfishness. He spent thirty years living in the dump, for Moses’ sake! He never returned to his family. His wife, his young child, he had to abandon them all because Ford was so selfish. He’d ruined not only Fiddleford’s life, but his partner’s family’s lives too.

It wasn’t just Fiddleford’s family who had paid for his mistakes. His brother had to fake his death and attend his own funeral in order to cover up the fact that Ford was missing. Both of his parents had passed away believing Stanley was dead, and they never found out that in truth, Stanford was the one missing. Stanley had sacrificed so much to keep Ford’s disappearance a secret. He had, once again, sacrificed everything he had to keep his brother safe. And when Stanley had needed Ford the most, Ford had ignored him. Shunned him. Turned him away.

And then there were the twins. They were just kids, only just teenagers as of today - they should have never had to even know about any of this. Stanley had had to lie to both them and their parents in order to keep Ford a secret. Then Ford came back and ruined everything. He’d caused the twins so much pain. He’d tried to separate them. He’d asked Dipper to become his apprentice without so much as a thought about Mabel’s feelings. The last things the twins had done before Weirdmageddon broke out was fight. They’d argued, Mabel had run off and the rift had been smashed. The kids had fought tooth and nail to get Ford back and they nearly died. Bill could have killed them, all because Ford was so damn selfish. Those kids had been traumatized, and it was all Ford’s fault.

The sound of laughter echoed through the room from outside and Ford curled up tighter, trying desperately to vanish into thin air. Part of him felt guilty for missing such a big occasion, but that little part was drowned by the rest of him, telling him to stay hidden and don’t make a sound. That he’d only ruin everything if he tried to join in. He could see the kid’s disgusted faces, the look of hatred on the faces of the townsfolk, the utter loathing on Stanley’s face. Heck, even Waddles would probably growl at him or walk away or something. He didn’t deserve to be included in the fun, anyway, after everything he’d caused. He’d only be shouted at, or shoved, or have rocks thrown at him. A thirteenth birthday was something the kids would only experience once and he didn’t want to spoil it for them. He’d already spoiled the last part of their summer, he couldn’t ruin their birthday too.

Ford’s stomach growled noisily and he couldn’t help but punch himself in the gut, trying to shut it up. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t eaten at all in the last week or so. It wasn’t important. He couldn’t leave his room, anyway. If he did, he’d only be glared at by his family. He’d ruin their day with his very presence. That was why he had to be careful whenever he left his room to get some water or to go to the bathroom. He didn’t want to bump into anyone and cause them more problems. He’d already done enough to ruin their lives. He wasn’t welcome in this house, but he was too scared to leave.

He just wanted to get out of their lives forever. Everyone would be so much better off without him. They wouldn’t have to worry about the apocalypse, or the insane researcher who lived in the woods. They wouldn’t have to wonder if each day might be their last. But, as much as he wanted to, Ford couldn’t bring himself to leave. He desperately wanted to make it up to everyone by leaving, but he just couldn’t. Not while Stanley’s mind was still being recovered. He had to stay, for the sake of his brother. He’d kick himself if Stanley had a memory lapse, or forgot everything entirely, and there was nobody around to help him. He couldn’t erase memories of himself from the townsfolk for one reason: he’d seen what it had done to Fiddleford, and he wouldn’t wish that upon anyone else. That’s what made it so difficult though. Ford knew nobody wanted his help. He knew that everyone just wanted to get rid of him. He knew that everyone saw him as a burden, a leech, a nuisance, and he knew that everyone else knew they’d be better off without him.

Ford froze, hearing someone walk past his bedroom door - if that’s even what his room could be called. It was in the semi-underground part of the Shack and was once his old study, but he’d been sleeping in here ever since he was brought back, on account of the fact that Stanley had claimed his bedroom for his own. Whoever was walking past got to the end of the hall and then walked back. Judging by the sound of the footsteps, Ford guessed it was one of the twins. He sighed quietly, still not moving from his position on the couch. The laughter and chatter from outside died down as the voices, in unison, sung an out-of-tune version of ‘Happy Birthday’. There was cheering, followed by Dipper and Mabel talking. Dipper was talking about how he already had everything he ever wanted. Lifting the blanket from off his head, Ford strained to listen to the boy’s words.

“I’ve already got the best friends I could ever ask for. You’re all like family to me, even though technically Grunkle Stan and Mabel are the only ones who are actually family.” There was some light chuckling from the crowd and Ford felt his heart sink. It was true. The kids didn’t see him as family. He didn’t deserve to be part of their family, anyway. Still, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet sob as the truth sunk in. The kids didn’t care about him. Why should they, after everything he’s done?

Then it was Mabel’s turn. “My only wish is to shrink you all down and take you home in my pocket, but since that’s probably impossible, I just want everyone here to sign my scrapbook.” Ford’s heart sunk further. Everyone here. He wasn’t out there with them. ‘Everyone here’ meant the whole town apart from him. Why should he get to sign the book? So that every time Mabel looked at it, she was reminded of the guy who nearly caused her death? The guy who ruined her summer? He didn’t deserve to be part of something like that. There was no way she’d let him sign the book, anyway. Mabel didn’t care about him. Nobody did.

There was more chatter and cheering after that as the party went on. Ford pulled the blanket back over his head again. Quiet sobs racked his body, making the blanket tremble. All his thoughts had been confirmed. There wasn’t a single person in the town who cared about him. Why should there be? He caused the apocalypse. He hurt them. People could have died and it was all his fault. Ford covered his mouth, trying to stay silent. Even though he knew nobody would be able to hear him, he didn’t want to make a sound. Making a sound would mean people would be reminded that he was still here and not lying in some dirty forest somewhere far away from anyone he could hurt.

Because, at the end of the day, lying alone in the middle of nowhere was all Ford really deserved.

00000

Two days later…

“C’mon kids, got everything?”

“Yes, Grunkle Stan!”

Ford flinched. The kids were right outside his bedroom door. They must be leaving. That was it. Summer was over and he’d failed to apologize to them. Just like he’d failed to give them a good summer, like he’d failed to give them a good uncle. Ford buried his face in his hands, remaining hidden under the blanket. He’d failed to be anything worthy of redemption. Ford heard the kids dragging heavy luggage towards the door. He could hear the voices of their friends, waiting to say goodbye to them. Ford wasn’t going to join them. He didn’t want their last memories of summer to be the man who caused the apocalypse talking to them. He couldn’t ruin this moment for them. His stomach growled again. He still hadn’t eaten anything since two days before Weirdmageddon broke out. That made it over two weeks since he’d had anything to eat. Two days before Weirdmageddon, then the apocalypse itself had lasted just over a week, then it had been over a week since it had ended. Overall, it looked like seventeen or eighteen days since he’d eaten anything. He’d been drinking, obviously, but only water. It was the cheapest drink and the easiest to get hold of.

There was a sharp, quick knock on the bedroom door. “Stanford, the kids are leaving. You gonna say goodbye or are you gonna keep sulking?” It was Stanley. Ford’s heart leaped into his throat. Someone was actually talking to him. He was at a crossroads. Did he stay inside, make everyone happy by not being there, but let the kids down for not saying goodbye? Or should he come out of his room and wave them off, only to ruin their last day in Gravity Falls? Either way, he’d hate himself for it. Plus, he wanted to at least say goodbye to them, maybe try and apologize, even though he knew they didn’t want to hear it. He decided to bite the bullet. He could always just retreat to his room again once the kids had left.

“Coming…” Ford said quietly. He pulled the blanket off of him, tossing it to the floor, and grabbed his glasses. He flattened down his hair and got up. His hunger caused his head to spin, but he ignored it. He took slow steps towards the door, becoming more aware of the pain in his body. He still hadn’t fully healed from all the tortures Bill had put him through. He knew that the severe lack of food would only make it worse, but at this point he didn’t care. Pulling his boots on, he grabbed the handle of the door and opened it slowly. The light from the hallway blinded him momentarily and he briefly thought of what a mess he must look.

Stanley stood on the other side of the door, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he saw the state his brother was in. Ford’s hair was sticking up all over the place. He had dark circles underneath his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot, the area around them puffy and red. His face was covered in scratches that hadn’t quite yet healed. His cheeks were sunken and he looked terribly thin. Sure, his brother had never quite had the gut Stan did, but he just looked so underweight. What was the worst part, however, was the expression on Ford’s face. His brother looked a mixture of downcast and terrified. He looked so sad, yet still had a slight bit of nervousness about him, as if Stan would lash out and hit him at any moment. He looked so guilty, too. His whole body was curled in on itself. He had his arms wrapped around his stomach, his shoulders sagging. He refused to meet Stanley’s concerned gaze, his head down and his sight fixed on his feet.

Stanley was at a loss for words. “Ford… what… what’s wrong… ?”

Ford’s voice was quiet and cracked. “… I’m so sorry…” His shoulders were shaking and he covered his mouth with one hand, feeling tears pricking his eyes.

Alarm bells went off in Stan’s mind. Ford had done this to himself. “Sorry for what…?” Stan asked softly, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer. He tried to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, frowning when Ford flinched and pulled away, trying to retreat back into his room. “Ford, please,”

Ford shook his head quickly and turned to go back into his room. Stan put his arm out to stop him. Ford let out a startled noise and stepped away quickly, pressing his back against the wall. His eyes were wide and terrified. “Ford… please…” Stanley said softly.

“I’m so sorry…” Ford mumbled again. He buried his face in his hands again. “F-for everything… it’s all my f-fault…” He sunk slowly to the ground. “Everything… it’s all because of m-me…” He pulled his legs up close to his chest, keeping his face hidden in his knees.

“Ford…” Stan knelt beside his brother. He put a hand on his shoulder, feeling Ford flinch again. “When was the last time you ate?”

Ford shrugged. “Dunno,” he mumbled. That was a lie - he didn’t want to tell his brother that he hadn’t eaten in weeks. “Doesn’t matter,”

“Of course it matters!” Stan bit his lip. “Ford, you’re a wreck.”

“So?” Ford’s voice was quiet, barely audible. “Just go and say goodbye to the kids. Don’t worry ‘bout me,”

“Grunkle Stan! We’ve got all our stuff and the bus is nearly here!” Dipper’s voice called from outside. “You coming?” The younger twins ran back to the door, stopping in their tracks. They hadn’t seen Ford in over a week. Now he was sitting in the hallway with his face buried in his knees. Ford flinched at their voices.

Stan looked up at the kids. “I’ll be there in just a second.” He turned back to his brother. “C’mon, Ford. Talk to me. How long has it been since you last had some food?”

“Nearly three weeks,” Ford mumbled into his legs.

“Three weeks?!” Stan exclaimed. “Crap, Ford! You need to eat something!”

“N-no I don’t,” Ford murmured, stubbornly keeping his face hidden. He couldn’t let his brother see the tears in his eyes. “I c-can’t.”

“What the hell do you mean you can’t?” Stan demanded. His face softened as his brother flinched at the harsh tone in his voice.

“I c-can’t, ‘cause it costs you money and you’ve already given up so much for me and I’ve just been selfish and I hurt you and I hurt the kids and-”

“Whoa, whoa Ford, calm down,” Stan put his hand on the side of Ford’s face. “Hey, look at me Poindexter.”

Ford lifted his head slowly. The dark circles under his eyes were even more apparent now. His eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m so s-sorry, Stanley.”

Stanley shook his head and pulled Ford into a hug, tightening his arms around him when he felt Ford try to pull away. He laid his chin on the top of Ford’s head, rubbing small circles across his back. “It’s okay… it’s okay…”

And then the floodgates opened.

A second later, Ford was sobbing into Stan’s shoulder, gripping the back of Stan’s sweater for dear life. “I-I’m so sorry .. this is all m-my fault… I erased y-your m-m-mind a-an-and I hurt you… a-and I hurt the kids… I d-didn’t wanna c-come see them on their b-birthday cause I’d r-ruin ev-verything a-and you sh-shouldn’t h-have opened that portal everyone w-would have b-b-been b-better off without m-me I j-just hurt p-p-people I’m a f-freak I’m a m-m-monster I r-ruined the summer B-Bill should have j-just killled me I should never have b-been b-b-”

“Ford.” Stan cut him off before he could finish. “Don’t ever say that. We’ve all made mistakes-”

“None of yours ever caused the apocalypse, though, did they?” Ford snapped. “I summoned a demon just so I could become famous. If I w-wasn’t so damn selfish none of you would have ever been h-hurt.”

The twins, tears in their eyes, rushed forwards and embraced Ford in a tight hug. “Grunkle Ford we love you.” Mabel said, burying her face in Ford’s sweater. “You’re not selfish. You told us how to defeat Bill.”

“You played games with me,” Dipper added. “You’re not selfish. You protected me from that alien guard thing. You saved my life.”

Ford shook his head and tried to pull away, but Stan held onto him and wouldn’t let go. “No, don’t defend me. What I did was wrong and horrible and I don’t deserve to be forgiven.”

“Grunkle Ford stop it!” Mabel shouted. Ford froze. “You do deserve to be forgiven. None of this was your fault. All of us have been tricked by Bill. But you helped us get rid of him, and now he’s gone! He’s gone because you helped us!”

“She’s right Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said. “Bill’s gone because you helped us get rid of him. Grunkle Stan got his memory back. It’s okay!”

“It’s okay, Poindexter,” Stan mumbled into his brother’s hair. “It’s okay. We’re all okay, because of you. Now would you quit beating yourself up so much and come and say goodbye?”

Ford took a deep breath and nodded. The kids got up and Stanley pulled his brother to his feet, keeping an arm looped over his shoulders. Together, the family walked outside and towards the road where the bus was waiting. Ford looked at the twins, then at his brother. A small smile came to his face. They’d forgiven him. He couldn’t believe it, and part of him was still convinced he didn’t deserve it, but they’d forgiven him. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and took a deep breath.

Stanley looked at his twin. “You alright Ford?”

Ford smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

This time, he wasn’t lying.

——-

Something I wrote based off of @skaleigha  ‘s Guilty Ford AU, which can be found here. I really love this idea and I had to write something for it. Ford really needs hugs ;-;

There are probably plot holes the size of craters in this. Oh well 

I thrive off stangst

EDIT: Now on AO3

#ford pines #stanford pines #gravity falls #grunkle ford #grunkle stan #stanley pines #stan pines #stangst #hrrk #the feels #dipper pines #mabel pines #guilty ford au

[diningrheum]

When it all comes tumbling down…gratitude!

I know my last post said that this month was SUPPOSED to be all about gratitude (and I promise I will still try to incorporate a little bit towards the end) but I’m struggling with it at this point, and I just want to make this blog REAL and HONEST…or else what’s the point of it.  Not to sound like one of those anti-depressant commercials that you see on TV, but most days in real life, I feel like I’ve had to wear a mask.  I don’t want my parents to worry, so I only tell them the good news about my RA, but don’t tell them about some of my lingering fears.  I didn’t want to disappoint my boyfriend, so I took a bunch of painkillers and hopped on the bike out of fear that the pain of my rheumatoid arthritis would impact my activity levels to a point that he would care less for me.  And it’s all driven me to this point….a breaking point where I feel backed into a corner and I just want to come punching and kicking and screaming my way out and say “THIS IS ME, DAMNIT!  This is who I am!  Love me or stop loving me, but I just can’t take hiding it anymore!”

The past year or so has been a complete dumpster fire! A (not so) brief recap:

At the end of the summer in 2017, my boyfriend and I decided to take the next step after almost 5 years together and move in together.  It was my first time living with a significant other, so I was super nervous but also really excited. Things seems to be going really well….for about the first month.  And then….well…something unexpected that I’m afraid caused irreparable harm to the relationship happened.  This is something that I fear I will deeply regret every single day for the rest of my life. To be fair to him, even I did not anticipate the depth of the depression and guilt that I would feel, but I had hoped for a little more compassion that the decision would be a so difficult for me, both emotionally and physically.  I have never been suicidal, but many days I felt that I don’t deserve to live after what I had done.  This may seem like an extreme reaction and perhaps it is, and it was one I was ill prepared for.  It was something that I never told a single other person about.  He was the only one who knew, and therefore the only person I could trust to understand these feelings.  And it felt like a betrayal, when he just pretended like it never happened. It felt like a further betrayal when he failed to follow through on the steps he was supposed to take to help put my mind at ease about the situation.

In January, my symptoms began to make themselves more pronounced.  Joint pain went from “ok, I just slept weird” to ” hmm….something strange is going on here.  I don’t think this is normal.” It was enough that it inspired me to take the first food sensitivity test to look for a possible culprit to my pain.  Looking back, I still sometimes wonder if all the stress of the previous autumn were in some way linked to my onset of RA. I’ve read many accounts of trauma triggering an autoimmune disease, so if a car accident can trigger it, than I’m almost certain that an unplanned pregnancy and then being suddenly not pregnant anymore can certainly do it.  I mean, the rollercoaster of emotions between guilt and relief alone could probably do the trick, but the crazy hormone changes that the body goes through, first by getting pregnant and then in response to the demise of the fetus are not to be dismissed.

Also in January, my grandfather passed away suddenly.  On Christmas Day, he was going to a friend’s Christmas party, then by New Years he was checking into the hospital.  I never expected that he would never check out and go back home.  Then, at the end on June, I got news that my other grandfather had passed away, less than 6 months between them.  Two great men, just gone from my life during a time full of uncertainty.

Next, came my diagnosis in July.  And with it, rather than total relief or optimism that I’d finally start to get the treatment I needed, I felt more guilt.  Guilt that my boyfriend wasn’t getting the active girlfriend he thought he was moving in with.  What if I didn’t get better?  We had just moved in together and I got the diagnosis on the one-year anniversary of our closing date.  This wasn’t what he had signed up for…an invalid for a girlfriend.  At a time when I should’ve been focused on my own health, I was worried that my boyfriend wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.  Up to that point it wasn’t as if things were going swimmingly in our relationship either.  I’m not great at adjusting to change, and even though moving in together was something I wanted, I’m a weirdly private person and now it was impossible to hide my weird little quirks, like my embarrassing Netflix queue of sappy romcoms or the stupid goofy games I obsessively play on my phone or my cookbook hoarding habit. Instead of embracing it and trusting that it wouldn’t change his feelings for me, I got nervous about him finding out.  I remember more than once, he would ask about what I did on an evening that we didn’t spend together, and I got instantly defensive and secretive about it and said “Nothing! Geeez…why do you have to know so bad, you control freak!”  Truth: I binge watched some episodes of a CW show or played games on my phone all night long or danced around and lip synced in the living room while blasting the Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack.

I’m not saying he was completely blameless either.  He had some expectations of me that I felt were a little unreasonable, like a quota on how many times a week he felt we should be having sex (way to suck all the romance and spontaneity out of it).  And he wasn’t always perfectly compassionate.  Before my diagnosis, he made a comment on how I wasn’t really working out any more.  Earlier in our relationship, I used to go with him to the gym, but as my hands and feet started to hurt I was less and less into it.  I know it disappointed him, but it wasn’t exactly my fault.  He asked what my new fitness routine was, and I angrily shot back “Right now I’m lucky if I can walk to and from work without pain”  Then he shot back that I needed to come up with something because otherwise I would get fat and he couldn’t see himself with someone “not fit.”  It was hurtful!  I didn’t choose to be sick, and I was trying my best to overcome my depression, but I felt like he was suggesting that I somehow planned this disease and its onset to happen after we were living together as a means to trap him! Again, this was before I knew what was wrong with me and how or if I could get back to normal.  And the tensions kept mounting and the rift between us kept growing.  We’d fight more often and every time we did, he’d throw in a subtle or not so subtle suggestion that we break up, like “Things won’t work out unless you……”  I got really defensive every time and just shut down or exploded in anger at him, which never helped the situation.

Finally came today.  A brief background:  I grew up and live in a very liberal area of the country, and have always tended to lean a little more moderate-conservative. Being election day, I put a 24-hour temporary profile picture up that said “I voted Republican.” Being someone in a liberal echo chamber, I often keep these opinions to myself to avoid debates that never tend to lead anywhere and in my experience have always results in name calling, but everyone else so proudly declares that they vote and also proudly declares how they vote, either online or in daily conversation, so why can’t I just because my opinion is a little different?  I’m just as proud of my choice and the hopefulness it brings me for freedom and I didn’t want to continue to hide it.  My boyfriend was not happy, and he took it as a personal attack on him and said my posting it endangered his relationships with others.  It felt like the ultimate betrayal.  I trusted him to know me and love me for who I am, and encourage me to feel comfortable about it.  I’m tired of hiding everything….my pregnancy, my illness, even this blog- a blog that no one in my real life knows about, including him (I planned it that way because I felt like I could be more honest with strangers that if I knew my audience and was worried about how they might read what I was writing).  Instead, I felt like he was controlling me and censoring MY facebook profile and MY opinions because of how it made HIM look. So I erupted in a series of angry texts back at him.  He asked to meet for lunch to discuss.  When we did, I erupted even more.  Eventually, when I’d lost steam on my tirade, he said that he was sorry but that our relationship was over!  So there it was: a 24 hour facebook profile pic was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  I feel so many things right now: angry, devastated, remorseful, and confused!

On some level, things with us haven’t exactly been healthy for a while, but then on the other hand, I’m finally starting to get a handle on my RA symptoms and I felt like things with us were starting to improve.  Two days ago we were talking about going to the store to start planning out cabinets and countertops for a kitchen remodel in our house.  And last night, we had just gotten a new comforter for our bed after struggling with a duvet that was always spilling out of its cover because of a few missing buttons.  I was really hopeful that we were going to be able to put all the bad things in past behind us and start to look forward and hopeful for a festive holiday season where we could finally get a reprieve from all the past year or so’s troubles. It felt like we were this-close to re-establishing peace in our relationship and if we could come out of the other side of this year, maybe a little battered, but still intact then we’d have the strength to get through anything together.  But I guess all of the setbacks of this year took their toll, and now I’m forced to find a time to start packing up our shared home and move back in with my parents.

So, I said I would end this post with gratitude, since that is supposed to be the theme of my posts this month.  It’s really hard to feel grateful for much when the man you love just gave up on you and broke your heart, but I am grateful that I do have other people that are in my corner.  My parents are loving and kind and will welcome me into their home to stay as long as I need. And not having to move into an apartment alone is probably good.  My parents will be caring and compassionate that I’ve just probably lost the love of my life (I know most people say that, but even though we’ve been together for about 5 and a half years, our story goes back all the way to the fall of 2000, so it feels like 18 years of my live—my ENTIRE adult life– has just fallen apart) but will also be the tough love I need to try to navigate moving on.  I don’t have a particularly large friend group, but the ones I do have I know love me unconditionally.  Even one of my friends, who I know disagrees with me on all aspects of politics really came through for me today.  I’ve been able to come clean with those people about last fall’s pregnancy and its aftermath and they’ve all been overwhelmingly comforting and supportive in ways I hadn’t expected. Now I only wish I had told them sooner, so I wouldn’t have had a year of self loathing over the whole thing and guilt about hiding it from everyone.  They were understanding of my reasons for wanting to keep it private and were truly there for me.  And will truly be there for me going forward.

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