#NONE OF THIS HAPPENS FOR REAL. THIS IS ALL A CONSTRUCT OF A HUMAN PERSON'S IMAGINATION

[creatingblackcharacters]

"Let's Have a Talk, First"- Stereotypes, pt 1

Come sit down. You and I, before we get into any of the things I'm sure you're impatient to know: we need to have a come to Jesus talk, first.

There are some things that I've been asked and seen that strengthens my belief that we need to have a reframing of the conversation on stereotypes in media away from something as simple as "how do I find the checklist of stereotypes to avoid". Because race- and therefore racial stereotypes- is a complex construct! Stands to reason then, that seeing, understanding, and avoiding it won't be that simple! I'm going to give you a couple pointers to (hopefully) help you rethink your approach to this topic, and therefore how to apply it when you're writing Black characters- and even when thinking about Black people!

Point #1: DEVELOP THE CHARACTER!! WRITE!!

Excuse my crude language, but let me be blunt: Black people- and therefore Black characters- will get angry at things, and occasionally make bad choices in the heat of the moment. Some of us like to fuck real nasty, some might be dominant in the bedroom, they may even be incredibly experienced! Others of us succumb to circumstance and make poor decisions that lead to crime.

None of those things inherently makes any of us angry Black women and threatening Black men, Jezebels and BBC Mandingos, and gangsters and thugs!

Black people are PEOPLE! Write us as such!

If all Black characters ever did was go outside, say "hi neighbor!" and walk back in the house, we'd be as boring as racist fans often accuse.

I say this because I feel I've seen advice that I feel makes people think writing a Black character that… Emotes negatively, or gets hurt by life and circumstance, or really enjoys hard sex, or really any scenario where they might "look bad" is the issue. I can tell many people think "well if I write that, then it's a stereotype" and to avoid the difficulty, they'll probably end up writing a flat Black character or not writing them at all. Or- and I've seen this too- they'll overcompensate in the other direction, which reveals that they 'wrote a different sort of Black person!' and it comes off just as awkwardly because it means you think that the Black people that do these things are 'bad'. And I hate that, because we're capable of depth, nuance, good, evil, adventure, world domination, all of it!

My point is, if you write your character like the human being they are, while taking care to recognize that you as the writer are not buying into stereotypes with your OWN messaging, you're fine. We have emotions, we have motivations and goals, we make decisions, and we make mistakes, just like anybody else. Write that! Develop your character!

POINT #2: YOU CAN'T CONTROL THE READERS!!

Okay. You can write the GREATEST Black character ever, full of depth, love, nuance, emotional range, all those things…. And people are still going to be racist about them. Sorry. There is absolutely nothing you can do to control a reader coming from that place of bias you sought to avoid. If it's not there, TRUST AND BELIEVE, it'll be projected onto them.

That passionate young Black woman who told the MC to get her head out of her ass? Yeah she's an angry Black bitch now, and bully to the sweet white MC. Maybe a lesbian mommy figure if they like her enough to "redeem" her. That Black gay male lead that treats his partner like he worships the ground he walks on? Yeah he's an abusive thug that needs to die now because he disagreed One Time with his white partner. That Black trans woman who happened to be competing against the white MC, in a story where the white MC makes comparable choices? Ohhhh they're gonna be VILE about that poor woman.

It really hurts- most especially as a Black fan and writer- knowing that you have something amazing to offer (as a person and creative) and people are gonna spit on that and call it "preference". That they can project themselves onto white characters no matter what, but if you project your experiences onto black characters, it's "pandering", "self insert", "woke", "annoying", "boring", and other foul things we've all gotten comments of.

But expect that it's gonna happen when you write a Black character, again, especially if you're a Black writer. If you're not Black, it won't hurt as personally, but it will probably come as a shock when you put so much effort in to create a lovely character and people are just ass about them. Unfortunately, that is the climate of fandom we currently exist in.

My favorite example is of Louis De Pointe Du Lac from AMC's Interview With The Vampire. Louis is actually one of the best depictions of the existential horror that is being Black in a racist White world I have ever seen written by mostly nonblack people. It was timeless; I related to every single source of racist pain he experienced.

People were HORRIFIC about Louis.

It didn't matter that he was well written and what he symbolized; many white viewers did NOT LIKE this man. There's a level of empathy and understanding that Black characters in particular don't receive in comparison to white counterparts, and that's due to many of those stereotypes and systemic biases I'm going to talk about.

My point is, recognize that while yes, you as the author have a duty to write a character thoughtfully as you can, it's not going to stop the response of the ignorant. Writing seeking to get everyone to understand what you were trying to do… Sisyphean effort. It's better to focus on knowing that YOU wrote something good, that YOU did not write the stereotype that those people are determined to see.

POINT #3: WHY is something a stereotype?

While there are lists of stereotypes against Black people in media and life that can be found, I would appreciate if people stopped approaching it as just a list of things you can check off to avoid. You can know what the stereotypes are, sure, but if you don't understand WHY they're a problem and how they play into perception of us, you'll either end up writing a flat character trying to avoid that list, or you're going to write other things related to that stereotype because "oh its not item #1"... and it'll still be racist.

For example: if you wrote a "sassy Black woman" that does a z formation neck rotation just because a store manager asked her something… that's probably stereotype. If you thought of a character that needed to be "loudmouthed", "sassy", and "strong" and a dark-skinned black woman was automatically what fit the profile in your mind, ding ding ding! THAT'S where you need to catch your racist biases.

But a dark-skinned Black woman character cursing out a store manager because she's had a really bad, stressful day and their attitude towards her pushed her over the edge may be in the wrong, but she's not an "angry Black woman". She's a Black woman that's angry! And if you wrote the day she had to be as bad as would drive anyone to overstimulation and anxiety, the blow up will make sense! The development and writing behind her led to this logical point (which connects to point #1!)

I'm not going to provide a truly exhaustive list of Black stereotypes in media because that would ACTUALLY be worth a college credited class and I do this for free lmao. But I am going to provide some classic examples that can get y'all started on your own research.

POINT #4: WATCH BLACK NARRATIVES!

As always, I'm gonna push supporting Black creators, because that's the best way to see the range of what you'd like. You want to see Black villains? We got those! Black heroes? Black antiheroes? Assholes, lovers, comedians, depressed, criminals, kings, and more? They exist! You can get inspired by watching those movies and reading those books, see how WE depict us!

I've seen mixed reviews on it, BUT- I personally really enjoyed Swarm, because it was one of the first times I'd ever seen that "unhinged obsessed murderous Black fan girl" concept. Tumblr usually loves that shit lmao. Even the "bites you bites you bites you [thing I love]" thing was there. And she liked girls, too. Just saying. I thought it was a fun idea that I'd love to see more of. Y'all gotta give us a chance to be in these roles, to tell these tales. We can do it too, and you'd enjoy it if you tried to understand it!

POINT#5: You are NOT Black!

This is obvious lmao, but if you're not Black, there's no need to pretend. There's no need to think "oh well I have to get a 100% perfect depiction of the Black person's mind". That's… That's gonna look cringe, at its best. You don't have to do that in order to avoid stereotypes. You're not going to be able to catch every nuance because it's not your lived experience, nor is it the societally enforced culture. Just… Do what you can, and if you feel like it's coming off hokey… Maybe consider if you want to continue this way lol. If you know of any Black beta readers or sensitivity reviewers, that'd be a good time to check in!

For example, if your Black character is talking about "what's good my homie" and there's absolutely no reason for him to be speaking that way other than to indicate that he's Black… 😬 I can't stop you but… Are you sure?

An egregious example of a TERRIBLE way to write a Black character is the "What If: Miles Morales/Thor" comic. I want to emphasize the lack of good Black character design involved in some of these PROFESSIONAL art spaces, because that MARVEL comic PASSED QA!! That comic went past NUMEROUS sets of eyes and was APPROVED!! IT GOT RELEASED!! NO ONE STOPPED IT!!

I'm sorry, it was just so racist-ly bad that it was hilarious. Like you couldn't make that shit up.

Anyway, unfortunately that's how some of y'all sound trying to write AAVE. I promise that we speak the Queen's English too lmao. If you're worried you won't get it right, just use the standard form of English. It's fine! Personally, I'd much rather you do that than try to 'decode AAVE' if you don't know how to use it.

My point is, if you're actively "forcing" yourself to "think Black"… maybe you need to stand down and reconsider your approach lmao. This is why understanding the stereotypes and social environment behind them will help you write better, because you can incorporate that Blackness- without having to verbally "emphasize how Black this is"- into their character, motivations, and actions.

Conclusion

We need to reconsider how we approach the concepts of stereotypes when writing our Black characters. The goal is not to cross off a checklist of things to avoid per se, but to understand WHY we have to develop our Black characters well enough to avoid incorporating them into our writing. Give your Black characters substance- we're human beings! We have motivations and fears and desires! We're not perfect, but we're not inherently flawed because of our race. That's what makes the difference!

And as always, and really in particular for this topic, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #character design #black characters #black character design #black culture

[jessicas-pi]

look, I've decided that everything george lucas was involved in is canon star wars, and everything else is basically fanfiction that I can approve of or disregard at will.

This is going to be a very important part of my life philosophy come this August.

#like literally if the show does something i dont like i'm just going to act like it did not happen #i'm going to be so deep in denial y'all #no jacen? wdym??? he's right over here learning how to cheat at sabacc from chopper #wildly ooc characters? yikes. dave your earlier fics were a lot better. #ezra or sabine dies? sorry can't hear you over the sound of them adopting 5 kids and living happily ever after #i know it's a weird thing but literally just recently it occurred to me that this is ALL MADE UP. #NONE OF THIS HAPPENS FOR REAL. THIS IS ALL A CONSTRUCT OF A HUMAN PERSON'S IMAGINATION #THERE IS NO RULE OR LAW ANYWHERE THAT SAYS WE HAVE TO RESPECT WHAT SOMEONE SAYS HAPPENED NEXT #we can JUST IGNORE IT #and there will be fans like 'but it happened in the show it's canon' and cool! fine! i literally could not care less! #IT'S SO FREEING!!!! JUST STOP CARING BABEY!!!

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

I'm still saying Afton is not the Mimic

Spoilers for the Ruin DLC under the Cut. I wanted to include this in my mega post... but I know that the fandom is flooded with "the Mimic was Afton all along" theories right now actually.

There will be a lot under the cut, explaining some personal theories and the ending of the RUIN DLC so... be warned.

The Mimic, if you read the books, (but you probably haven't so I'll explain it in a few short sentences) is a character from the Tales of the Pizzaplex Books that was built by a Faz Engineer who made a robot to mimic his son to keep him company while he worked long hours while he lived in a factory. The child died in a car accident, and the Mimic kept miming his son's behavior. So in his grief, the engineer beat him to death in rage and grief. This infused rage in the machine.

So now the Mimic mimes behavior of a four year old, but it's corrupted and twisted. It will mime the action of 'scooping icecream' but will be scooping out your brains. It also has an adaptive learning AI so the violent pain it experienced, along with a four year old teaching it, it's a very dangerous thing.

It's also buried into the foundation of the Pizzaplex. And was reprogramed by some dumb lazy tech to clear the debris down there. By disassembling the robots and putting them in a pile. Which it did to all the human construction workers by disassembling them and putting them in a pile.

"This pile" I think is the Blob. Or as the game files refer to it.... "THE TANGLE."

(hard to see but take my word for it. that's him)

(cheating camera angle)

I think "The Tangle" is a infused pile of machinery, robots, and bodies that have all wound up down there.

So, we know that the blob is real. But I really think it's "The pile" that the Mimic has been stacking in the Book Epilogues. And it got out. Gregory/Mimic or Grimmick, says that something tunneled out of the building... And I believe this is 100% true. Because in Base Security Breach, we see this thing in the underground where Afton's room is.

But in RUIN.... This thing is on the top level??? HOw Did he get up here???

Easy..

He tunneled up.

So... the reason why RUIN looks like it does, and HOW it looks how it does...

Is because The Tangle got loose. And has been using the Pizzaplex as it's own series and network of tunnels like a burrowing snake or ant. Causing the entire building to fall in on itself. The Pizzaplex is it's ecosystem now. So that's why everything is falling apart how it is. He's breaking the very foundation and walls of everything.

So we do know the Blob IS real.

And let's assume that he's "the pile" that the Mimic has been building in the Tales of the Pizzaplex Epilouges. Just... sorting all the garbage, bodies, and endos into piles that he can find and stack.

So we know the Blob is real... but is Afton Burntrap real?

Forgive me I don't have the proper collectable screenshots so I'm pulling from the Wiki:

Throughout the game, you collect these real collectable comics that include all of the endings of Security Breach. And Cassie can recognize this as Gregory's art style, and has no idea when he had the time to make these or when he made them. EXCEPT Princess Quest. Which is pretty important I think. Which I think cements that Princess Quest is the definitive three star ending.

It's also worth noting that in Vanny's Room in the RUIN DLC... there is a book of "Fazbear History" by Vanny's Bed. So if Vanessa was freed and got out... we can assume she was talking to Gregory about the Fnaf lore as she knows it.

Also, it makes sense why some of these endings are a little insane now. cause it was just Gregory trying to process everything that happened to him at the Pizzaplex.

Gregory: So, I thought you had a twin sister for the longest time and-

Vanessa: Try again...

But anyway... if None of the previous endings were real.... Is Burntrap even real?

We collect this before we face the Mimic.... of Afton and the Blob. So we know The Blob/Tangle is real.... but was Afton ever real? Was Burntrap ever real? That's what we need to answer...

But if he isn't.... Why is his charging station down here in the furnace room all clouded up? ....As if it never was opened. As if he rotted inside with no more remnant to collect???

Cause here's the thing... I can accept the soft retconning of Afton. And if he was never real to begin with, and this is just Gregory's personal interpretation based on what Vanessa told them about what she was suffering through, I will take that. Or maybe Gregory saw the Mimic and interpreted it as this... I will take that as well.

However....

From what I said earlier... The Mimic... All his motivations in the game don't line up with Afton's.

He is doing exactly what he wants to do.

The Mimic is sealed in the back with Concrete... he's using Helpi and the VANNI Network to get Cassie to let him out. He just wants to get out of the basement and get Free.

Now... if Mimic is Afton the whole time...

and there is a case for it... they have almost the same idle animations as an endo, the Mimic does have Burntrap's claws on one hand. And he does have a similar pawed foot to Burntrap's design and they're practically identical height and pose.

And the Mimic is almost one-for-one linked with Hepi and the VANNI network. And I don't doubt that Vanny the person was using the VANNI network to get around the pizzaplex and become invisible to certain animatronics.

.....But...

here's a big But...

If the Mimic's goal is to kill people with his bare hands... and to get out of the concrete sealed basement, and break all the Security Nodes so he can get free???

WHY DOES THE PIZZAPLEX HAVE SO MANY MISSING PEOPLE/CHILDREN?

Why was the Human Staff all killed in the Pizzaplex?

Why are their children missing?

Why is Vanny hunting children and adults alike to kill in the first place?

This is not the Mimic's MO.

Because Vanny WAS working under influence of Glitchtrap and not the Mimic.

Because if the Mimic just wanted to get out... He would have told Vanny/Vanessa... head of Security.... To break all the Security Nodes A WHOLE LOT SOONER. Cause she literally has a VANNI Mask/suit and access to all of that.

The Mimic has no need for remnant or child killing or human killing if they aren't doing it themselves. The Mimic has always been very hands on with their kills.

But If Burntrap Afton is REAL... HE DOES have a reason for gathering this much Remenant.

He is growing in the charging station and trying to regrow his body.

And while the Mimic moves in a similar fashion to Burntrap, I think that's because he witnessed his behavior at one point and is copying it. But he never saw Afton in his prime. So he literally can't mimic the serial killer behaviors Afton is known for. Just likely his walk and how he breathes.

Because He literally can not copy Afton as a copy-cat killer, if there is NO Afton to Copy. There is no way that he could have learned who Afton was from all the way down below into the foundation. Especially with MXES keeping it hidden down there. And by "hidden" I'm sure it's hidden from Glitchtrap to even possess or check out that low.

People have to remember. The Mimic doesn't have access to illusion disc technology from the books. he can't replicate a corpse face. He's just a learning killer AI who has access to crappy mascot costumes. He can't look one-for-one like a person, even if he can sound like one.

So, there is a possibility that Burntrap Afton DID exist... He just rotted into dust once Vanny stopped collecting remnant for him.

Or there's also the possibility he was never real to begin with.

But.... Glitchtrap certainly was at one point. And Vanny was working with Glitchtrap to kill employees and children.

Not the Mimic.

Just their motivations and modus operandi don't add up if they are one in the same.

It wouldn't make sense for the Mimic to just tell Vanny to parade around in a bunny suit, kidnapping children and killing employees.

He would be telling her to disable the Security Nodes.

There is also the possibility that Vanessa sealed the Mimic in concrete after the events of Security Breach. But even then, I really don't think that she knew about it before hand until she went down to the basement to unplug Burntrap from his charging station.

Anyways... The only way I will see "Mimic is Afton" is that if Afton was using it's body. But then, it's not the Mimic anymore, it's just another Afton-clone.

And from everything from how I've seen the behavior of the Mimic in the DLC, it is operating completely divorced from Afton with it's own motivations and morals of it's own accord.

Oh, just to be clear, I'm not mad at this soft-retcon of burntrap. It's fine. Lol I actually prefer if he didn't exist.

And even if Burntrap was never real in the first place....

Then it means that Vanny was purely an agent of Glitchtrap.

Then when the Glitchtrap Virus got destroyed.... the Mimic hijacked the VANNI network and took it's place.

#fnaf #fnaf ruin dlc #fnaf ruin dlc spoilers #fnaf ruin spoilers #fnaf the mimic #fnaf mimic #fnaf burntrap #fnaf blob #fnaf the tangle #fnaf tangle #danachan's rants #fnaf glitchtrap

[goosewriting]

I had this idea and now I'm kinda obsessed with it,, can you do Leo in a relationship with a reader who's big Mama's kid? The others have recently found out and they have their doubts on if the relationship can last (they're not unsupportive or anything, they just have doubts) the reader says to Leo the 9th and 48th pink prompts. ("Reader: they say we're not going to last")

Prove them wrong (rottmnt Leo x reader)

prompt 9: “You make me feel alive. For the first time ever, I feel like I can breathe.” prompt 48: “They say we won't last.” “Then let's prove them wrong.”

summary: the turtles find out you're Big Mama’s kid.

relationship: Rise!Leo x GN reader

warnings: none

word count: ~670

A/N: i actually kinda like this idea? has a lot of potential for going a bit deeper into the whole “is blood thicker than water?” concept. but i had to keep it short for this one, hope you like it!

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

After the whole Big Mama and Oozesquitoes fiasco, the turtle brothers made it back to the lair where you were waiting for them, and they told you about her betrayal. Out of all the possible responses, they had not expected you to confess to them that Big Mama was, in fact, your real mama.

They knew you were half yokai, half human. But you bore no real resemblance to her arachnid person. You came more like your father, looking human on the outside, but you did have more resilience, strength and agility, as well as the ability to climb walls. 

Now that your secret was revealed, the brothers, especially Donnie, were rather sceptical towards you. You were Leo’s partner, and they had liked you since day one, but their attitude towards you changed after you told them about your mother, and it saddened you. You regretted telling them who you were at that moment. But you could hide it no longer, trying to explain why it would be hard for you to engage in a fight with Big Mama.

Leo asked you if that’s why you always wore a hood when you accompanied them to the Hidden City and always declined to enter the Nexus Hotel. You confirmed his suspicions, telling him about how you had essentially escaped from home and didn’t want Big Mama to see you there.

You pulled Leo with you a couple of steps away from the rest so you could talk in private.

“I’m sorry I’ve been hiding this from all of you for so long” you whispered, cupping his face. “I just wanted to leave it all behind. I didn’t mean to betray you guys’ trust.”

He wanted to interject, but you tilted your head with a slight shake and furrowed brows. Your eyes mapped out his features, coming back up to meet his gaze, and you gave him a sad smile that made his chest tighten in pain.

“You make me feel alive, Leo. For the first time ever, I feel like I can breathe. I don’t want to lose that.”

Leo could see in your eyes that you were telling him the truth. Meeting the turtles and hanging out with them had made you feel like you finally had a place where you belonged, and you had never been so happy as you were with them. And you loved Leo, whole-heartedly. So it hurt to see the other brothers putting distance between them and you because of a relationship you had no real control over.

But you also understood that Big Mama had now become kind of an enemy to them, with her being in on the whole Oozesquito situation. And apparently she didn’t care about humans all that much either. To make it all worse, she was now on bad terms with Draxum too, which made everything so much more complicated.

You let out a shaky sigh thinking about this, wanting nothing more than to go back to how things were before: simple and happy. This whole situation was convoluted and weird and the others probably thought that at some point you may have a conflict of interests when it came to choosing sides. Sure, she was your mother, so you didn’t want anything bad to happen to her, but you couldn’t support her… business.

Leo pulled you in for a proper hug after you explained all of these fears to him, and gave your temple a kiss. He admitted that he was also scared about you having to face the situation of choosing sides, but he assured you it would all work out in the end, no matter what happened. 

You looked to the side, seeing the turtle brothers doing their own thing with their shells to you. You had heard what they said when they thought you couldn’t hear. 

“Your brothers” you pulled back to look up at Leo. “They say we won't last.”

He gave you a lopsided smile, taking your hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“Then let's prove them wrong.”

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @koalaray, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @xnorthstar3x

#goose feathers #500 goslings event #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt leo x reader #leonardo x reader #rise leo x reader

[sleetkissed]

❝ Your 𝐜𝗿𝐢𝐞𝘀 , a symphony. Your fear , my 𝐦𝘂𝘀𝐞. ❞

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# 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 , an independant , selective   &   crossover friendly RP blog for Dark Urge 𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈  —   a frost sorceress  &  artist from Baldur's Gate 3 , Mun   &   Muse +21 , composed by Fungi [ she/her; they/them ]  , heavy topics, gore, potential nsfw warning  ,  personals DNI

Follows back from @bloodyarn 

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𝐈. carrd (under construction)     𝐈𝐈. RP prompts.      𝐈𝐈𝐈. interest tracker.

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𝐑𝘂𝐥𝐞𝘀  &  𝐀𝐛𝐨𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨𝗿𝐚𝗿𝐢𝐥𝘆 𝘂𝐧𝐝𝐞𝗿 𝘁𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝘂𝘁.

RULES:

[ Hey, I'm Fungi [she/her], 24 years old and living in Germany. [GMT+1] ]

❅ Mun ≠ Muse ; I think that much is clear. Any statements that come up ic are not specifically my own. ❅ No God modding ; Small liberties like change of scene and such are totally fine and do not have to be discussed. You can hurt her, shove her or whatever, just keep in mind that my muse will react accordingly. Do not assume reactions and write my muses actions. ❅ Feel free to continue asks! I will be the last one turning one down. ♥ ❅ You can always message me for plotting or headcanons if we are mutuals. ; However, I prefer if things play out naturally. We do not necesarrily have to plot out every thread till the end. I am more than happy writing and see how things develop. ❅ You can always send a starter, no need to ask! ; Again, if we are mutuals. Same goes for sending me rp prompts to my inbox, memes or whatnot. You are also free to tag me in dashgames! ❅ OC - and Tav friendly of course. Just be sure to have a little bit of information ready and visible on your blog so I can look it up before we interact. We stan OCs in this household. ❅ Post trimming. ; I use XKit Rewritten to trim my posts. It is not a MUST but I would be thankful if you have a way to trim your posts. Just to keep it nice and clean on the dash. Other than that, I use the usual small text, cursive and bold text edits. You do not have to match my writing or editing style, as soon as everything is nicely readable. ❅ I won’t write NSFW with minors. Mun or muse. Please make sure to have the age somewhere on your blog before interacting. If smut happens, it will be tagged and under 'keep reading'. ❅ Shipping: I am a huge sucker for ships. If said thing happens, keep in mind Esteri is multiship, means that every ship takes place in its own universe. I do have to see chemistry between muses tho, let it be through rp or just nerding about them. ❅ No racism, homophobia, transphobia and so on. Don’t be an ass. I can definitely tolerate ic biased opinions on that in threads, just don't bring it into the real world.

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ABOUT:

Basics:

Name: Esteri Venla Väisänen Nickname/Alias: Ester , The Dark Urge Age: 34 years Date of Birth: 5th december Gender & Pronouns: female, she/her Orientation: pansexual/romantic Race: human Nationality: baldurian Class: sorcerer [dragonic bloodline - cold ]

  Appearance:

Height: 180 cm / 5'9'' Hair: white Eyes: pale red Scars: none visible Other: several beauty marks all over her body, subtle freckles

  Personal:

Positive Traits: • honest • creative • patient • mature Negative Traits: • snobbish  • indifferent • lack of empathy • slightly narcissistic

#bg3 rp promo #dark urge rp #bg3 rp #baldurs gate 3 rp

[wildcards1407]

Travel Documents 118: Solarpunk Winters

Heya folks! Once a week (or when I can) I write book reviews of other folks' stuff. I call them the Travel Documents. Here's this week's!

by Sarena Ulibarri , Wendy Nikel , et al.

Genre:  near-future, solarpunk, social change, climate change

The Dust Cover Copy

This anthology envisions winters of the future, with stories of scientists working together to protect narwhals from an oil spill, to bring snow back to the mountains of Maine, to preserve ecosystems—even if they have to be under glass domes. They're stories of regular people rising to extraordinary circumstances to survive extreme winter weather, to fix a threat to their community's energy source, to save a living city from a deep-rooted sickness. Some take place after an environmental catastrophe, with luxury resorts and military bases and mafia strongholds transformed into sustainable communes; others rethink the way we could organize cities, using skybridges and seascrapers and constructed islands to adapt to the changes of the Anthropocene. Even when the nights are long, the future is bright in these seventeen diverse tales.

The Scene

Worldbuilding

I’ve heard it said in the last few years that what we’re setting ourselves up for isn’t ‘global warming’, as an experience. It’s ‘climate weirding’. The hots will get hotter, and there’s every chance that the colds will get colder. In this world, we’ll need our community connections to get stronger, our coping mechanisms to get clever, and our solutions to get really, really good. In these stories, that’s just what happens, in all the best possible ways.

The Crowd

Characterization

Given that this is a story collection, I won’t dive too deep here, except to say that each of these stories has in it real and wonderful people. Whether it’s the desperately eager and incredibly klutzy Halps of Halps’ Promise, the sweet and angsty Tommi in On The Contrary, Yes or the powerfully grounded and wise Meri of Oil and Ivory, all these stories are full of wonderful characters. I have a few particular favorites: the aforementioned Halps, the sensible and smart Doc Katie of Recovering the Lost Art of Cuddling, and the wonderful crew portrayed in VIAM INVENIEMUS AUT FACIEMUS, IE Stabby, Loopy And Friends Save The Day! But none of these tales falters in their portrayal of the human condition.

Writing Style

Some stories are spare and melodic. One is written as a funny first-person admission essay begging a university to accept a kid who’s either going to invent something amazing or blow himself up. Some stories are raw, and some are kind, and some are cold and crystalline as the world they’re set in.

All of them are delightful.

The Moves

Plot

None of these stories fell down on the plot either. What I particularly appreciated was the immediacy of the problems: this wasn’t saving the whole planet, this was getting through the snowstorm to save your neighbors from freezing to death and then trusting your sled dogs to get you home. This was hiking a mountain to fix a broken pipe that creates power for your community, or figuring out how to fix the transformer before the temperature crashed in the pod, or helping migrating narwhals deal with thick ice. Each of these stories was small and immediate. And read together, each story weaves into a portrayal of the small daily acts that will let us clean up our act and help the world heal from our actions.

Overall Rating

Put on the kettle the next time it snows. Make something hot. Make some toast. Grab your favorite blanket. Get comfy. Then open up this powerful book, and dive into a world of cold hands, warm hearts, and bright hopes. You’ll be glad you did.

#bookstagram #books and reading #indie books #solarpunk #glass and gardens

[cafecourage]

The Tree of Legacy - Chapter 2

Previous chapter - Next Chapter

There are many stories passed through the generations of Hyrule, of heroes and of gods. The first ever dated legend happened many era’s after the Calamity in the time of myth. While historians do debate on the legitimacy of these stories, none can argue with the story of the Creation of Hyrule. When humans return to the surface.

As Hyrule grew, information became muddled together. One could wish that a better system would have been implemented to keep things organized. At last, that’s not the world that Link lives in annoyingly so.

Hands lowered down as green eyes scanned the classroom. Students hurried away writing what notes their professor just wrote on the board and signed to them. It was a class of fifteen in a small cozy room, bookshelves lined the cobblestone walls, the biggest light source was in the front of the room behind the teacher’s desk, the light from this giant window filtered through. Link leaned over to look at some notes he wrote for this class. His shadow made it easier to read against the dark oak table.

It was the homeroom for his class. Link’s class topic was simply ‘the Heroes of Hyrule.’ It was a topic that most youths training to be knights love to talk about. ‘Though talking isn’t the same as learning about them.’ Link thought to himself with an exasperated sigh as he closed a leather-bound notebook, hoping that this class's lecture came across well enough. Even with the knowledge given to the people of Hyrule, information has been lost and what was kept are stories about nameless knights saving nameless princesses. In the common person's head these debatably real individuals were only wife’s tales that didn’t need to be complex. Stories to scare children into behaving or to give them hope in the world.

Noticing a figure in the corner of his eyes, Link could only hold back a sigh as he turned back towards his class. ‘It’s the scarred one again’ they all have scars to an extent, but this spirit’s scar was the first thing he always noticed about him. It was unlike the Champions where it’s the entire right side of his body, this one was different.

This man appears differently each time he shows up in the corner of Link’s vision. When Link first met him when he was ten and the hero was of the same age. Then when growing up he has seen him as a young adult and now as a fully grown man around his 50’s. No matter what the age was he always had a scar on his right eye that kept it permanently closed.

“Professor!” Link’s train of thought paused as a young Lurelian girl had her hand raised. “I have a question about the final paper.” Aryll Lynde, she was someone that Link grew up with as he went to class with one of her brothers. Link gestures for her to continue. “Can we add on to our last year's paper?”

‘As I wrote on the board,’ He walks to the chalkboard with their class assignment. A lot of teachers would argue that his teaching wasn’t the best. There are no tests and no true homework. However at the end of the class the students are to construct an essay about a portion of Hyrule’s vast history with research to back up their statement. He only asks for them to hand in something for periodic check-ins. ‘Hero’s aren’t the only thing in Hyrule’s history. Instead of limiting you to one topic, if something in this class or classes in the past year catches your eye then go for it. So yes Aryll you can research the minish forest and the inhabitants.’ He signs smiling.

A knock rang out. He looks up to see a familiar looking blonde woman in a blue turtleneck and a lab coat. Zelda. A fellow teacher of the academy and the Princess of Hyrule. She had her arms crossed as she leaned on the arch, gesturing her head towards the grandfather clock.

It read Eleven o’clock.

Link stiffens, pales and shoots an apologetic look to Zelda. She shakes her head laughing softly pushing off of the arch. Clapping gets the students attention. “Alright everyone. Your professor has torture you enough about curses and hero’s tales.” She finally arrives at the front of the class, stopping and turning around. “It’s time for class to be over.” Link quickly flipped through his notebook and nudged Zelda showing her the homework the students had to do. “And be sure to have your final paper topic’s in for the check up next week!” She yells after the students who were packing up, giggling and whispering at their professor’s flustered expression.

After the last students, Oha and Buiell, thanked him for the class and hurried out. Link braced for impact. ‘I’m sorry’ he signed.

Zelda gave out another airy laugh, “I figured much. So, I came to help those poor souls.” She holds out her hand. “Come on. We have to catch this train if we want to have enough time at the temple. Do you have your stuff ready?”

Link rolled his eyes and took her hand after throwing his bag over his shoulder.

The streets of Hyrule’s Castle Town was as busy as ever. The pair held hands while weaving through crowds, Zelda was on a small rectangular slate that was a family heirloom from the Hero of Wild. From what she told him it was called the Sheikah Slate adding her two cents right after on how it wasn’t the best name for it. Either way it played a vital role in the last Hero’s adventure, and since it still works all the same Zelda is now using it to document and compare the ancient tech to the new. The small device also contained a lot of documentation from the Hero of the Wilds Era. Which caused this interest into the Forgotten Temple in the first place.

The dream is still in the back of his mind though and going to the Forgotten Temple made his stomach drop. It’s not like he didn’t want to go. He would have loved to do some personal research on the heroes without the feeling of existential dread.

“-Ether way, I just want to make sure everything is ok.” Ah. He zoned out on Zelda’s briefing. She looks over her shoulder. “Are you feeling good?” Link nods, lying about the bubbling anxiety he was feeling. “It will be quick, then we can come back for the start of the Festival of Farore.”

‘That’s today?’ He totally forgot. ‘I thought Claus was just coming home.’

“He is. But it’s also the Festival.” She turned back to her slate. “Which is also why Vita and Iris couldn’t come with us.” He just hums in acknowledgment. They fall into a comfortable silence as Zelda subconsciously swings their locked hands together gently. Occasionally the Princess would show him some old pictures from the past. Annotating with musings on how things changed in 500 years. Which was true, it was interesting and is why the Forgotten Temple would be nice to examine.

The Forgotten Temple.

As the name implies was an abandoned ruin that the people of Hyrule could only assume was a temple at one point. Due to its architecture and how it housed the oldest Goddess Statue in all of Hyrule. A lot of the scholars of Hyrule couldn’t date it and theorized that the ruins were here after Hylian’s settled down in the area. There wasn’t much to it after the Hero of Wilds got rid of the remaining guardians for the last time.

Even then there wasn’t much here to begin with. The Goddess statue wasn’t anything special. There were journals talking about the shrine that lay under the ground after the calamity was defeated but that would be almost impossible to dig up without ruining the structure.

However, that was not what Zelda wanted to come here for. Shockingly. Link really thought it was with how obsessed his friend was with ancient tech. If he was honest, he still had no clue on why they were there in the first place. The Doctor said that something was bothering her for a while now about this place and that was it. He was brought along because of his knowledge of the history of Hyrule’s past.

A green haze started to form in his vision, subconsciously Link rubs his eyes. “I guess I was wrong.” Zelda lowered the old slate in her hands.

‘Was there something here in the first place?’ Link looks around at the limestone structures. ‘The whole place looks like it’s been flipped upside down.’ An offhand comment since the ceiling really did look like the flooring to the place and vice versa.

A lightbulb almost physically lit up in her head and she looked up, then to the flooring. “Goddess your right.” Now with new found inspirations he watched as she bounced around the room to taking pictures. He rolls his eyes and looks up observing the walls. There was truly nothing here.

A blue glow from above caught his eye as he faced the back wall of the temple. There was a hole in the wall it was coming from. There was scaffolding leading up from a previous venture inside and was left so others could get through. He turns and whistles for Zelda’s attention. She faces him confused at first but seeing what he was pointing at her eyes widens. “Just as I thought.” She bolted towards him. “Come on.”

‘Just as you thought?’ He signed quickly catching up to her.

“I had this feeling something weird was happening here.” She admitted as they climbed up the wooden structure. “It’s not dangerous obviously. However, I knew I couldn’t ignore it.”

They walked to the edge of the crack facing the other side of the temple. The blue glow was in the last room where the goddess statue stood tall. Green haze came back into Link's vision making him shut it. Anxiety bubbled up. He didn’t want to see anymore. No more spirits. No more memories that weren’t his. No more dissociative episodes. He took a deep breath when he opened his eyes again. Ignoring the questioning gaze of Zelda and continued forward.

The hollow corpses of guardians always put him on edge but seeing them in this second room was unnerving. There was so much damage to the temple and it was clear that most of it was from the automated tanks. It was a shame really.

“Hey Link?” Zelda stopped before the goddess statue room where the blue glow was. He turned to her concern writing on his face. “I…” She desperately tried to look for the right words to say. But instead, just shook her head. “Let’s hope that we find something interesting.” Link stared blankly at her as she walked past. There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted to say something different at that moment, but confronting her about it wasn’t something he wanted to do.

So, he just followed her in.

The statue room was the smallest room in the temple. There was an indentation in the ground where the shrine used to be and was subsequently covered up due to the 500 years that have passed since then. But in its spot were 3 dark blue rectangular crystals. It wasn’t a luminous stone or sapphire, but something that Link had never seen before. There were markings that reminded him of the markings on the few shrines he saw in pictures. The light blue glow disappears when they get closer.

“Do you recognize this?” He shook his head. “Same.” Zelda bent down as Link hovered around her, not sure how to help. Looking around there was much to the surrounding area that was new. Until he stopped to look at the base of the goddess statue to see a small golden harp resting at the base. However, when he turns to let Zelda know, she was in the process of tapping the gem with her knuckle.

One hit made the room explode in light and color as a blue bubble formed around them. Everything that was in the case inside the orb had time turned on it. What once was a yellow stone walkway turned into a marbled garden path up to the statue. The ceiling became open and sunlight shined through. Everything outside was what it was in their present. “A time-shift stone…” Zelda whispers as a soft harp melody slowly fills the room. They both stared up here and turned to the base of the goddess statue.

There was a sandy blonde-haired man standing at the base holding the harp. He couldn’t be older than 45, wearing a cream knit sweater, brown pants and a soft white cape with an old version of the Hylian crest embroidered in. He pauses and turns around.

“It’s nice to see you again Professor” the older man wore a gentle smile towards Link. Gears started to turn in his head.

“Who…how...” Zelda was as speechless as Link.

“My Queen had a vision that we would meet again, Hero of Legacy.”

There was a pause as the two started to process the information. Link and Zelda shared a glance as the same thought ran through their heads as the Queen's Prophecy.

“The Hero will awaken with the blessings of the Goddess. He, who had already befriended my daughter, will help in their fight with the darkness.”

The dots slowly connect. The dreams and spirits were a blessing. A blessing from a goddess. This man was an early King of Hyrule. The King must have picked up the confusion as he continued. “Link you are the Hero of this generation,” it wasn’t a question to the situation. “Your journey will have you travel throughout time and space-”

“Hold on” Zelda was the first to cut in, “who are you and what do you mean to travel time and space?”

“Time travel.” The King replied quickly “I don’t have all the answers but I know he would need to time travel back and to help the heroes of Hyrule’s history.”

“So, to be transparent here. You don’t actually know what he needs to do to get back in time.” Zelda’s statement caught the King of guard. His expression turned bashful as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I only know one way to time travel and I can assure you he didn’t use that.”

Zelda sighs and faces Link “This isn’t my forte. What do you think Link?”

Link wanted to sass her but kept his hands to his side. There were a lot of items that can theoretically time travel. The Harp of Ages and the Ocarina of Time were the top two that came to mind. However, both are lost to the ages. The Gate of time was a myth and the War of Era had the help of the Guardians of Time. Help is a strong word to use. Link paused his train of thought.

He was the hero of this Era.

‘Wait are you sure I’m the hero?’ He signed.

“We can only assume you are,” Zelda said exasperated. “We’ll get to it, when we get to it.”

“It was you Professor.” The King said with confidence. “You were the one who, I met on my adventure.”

“Adventure?”

Alarms triggered in Link’s mind.

‘Are you the first King of Hyrule?’ His hands were shaking as he panicked, but the King just stared at him.

“I- uh… can’t understand you.” The king was back to being sheepish. “You had someone else acting as your voice, and when they weren’t there, I had a companion who learned that translation for me.”

Zelda fills in, “he asked if you were the First King of Hyrule.”

“Ah. Yes, that’s me- well kind of.” King paused to think about it. “Hyrule isn’t established yet on the surface.”

He tugged on Zelda’s lab sleeves ‘He’s The Hero of the Skies.’ Link added the context. ‘He was the reincarnation of a Hylian knight that fought alongside Hylia here during the war against the demon god Demise.’ His signs were messy and quickly, Zelda grabbed his hands and lowered them.

“I didn’t come here for a history lesson, Link.” She said pinching the bridge of her nose “and what I’m getting from this whole conversation. Is that Link is the next iteration of the hero and we need to figure out how to time travel back to meet the other heroes?”

“I don’t know about the others. From what my wife has spoken to me about. Yes.”

‘Then the question is how, I’m assuming your way was the gate of time?’

“He asked about the Gate of Time.”

“That is no more, but I know this.” The King holds up to play a short song on the harp. A part of Link screamed with recognition as he was pushed into a green haze.

Ocarina notes flow around him as he hears a child’s voice “If something should happen to you, remember this song...” it almost sounded like Zelda when they were children. “The Goddess of Time is protecting you. If you play the Song of Time, she will aid you..."

Was that it? The Song of Time?

Link feels the presence of the Hero from the Dream again as he stares into the hazy void. There were others there as well, but he didn’t know which was who.

He was asked to focus on something but he couldn’t pinpoint the voice. But the hand he was holding was warm. He closed his eyes and focused on that warmth trying to steady his breath.

“Jus- … ld- end” the voice slowly dissipates the fog. His breath was steadying out.

“Lin…” Zelda. It was Zelda. He opened his eyes as he was facing down to the floor. “There we go.”

Link lifts his head and relaxes his shoulders. ‘Sorry.’ He was shaking, ‘that was the Song of Time, correct?”

“Link-“Zelda wanted to argue but he put a hand up.

‘We might not have enough time to keep talking about this.’

Her lip tightened and sighs. “Right. Fine. But we can’t ignore this.” There is a threatening tone in her voice that made him flinch when attention was off of him. “He asked if that song was the Song of Time.”

“Yes, I think?” The King also was startled now that he was under Zelda’s harsh gaze. “Zel- Er, my wife taught it to me.” The bubble began to shrink slowly as they were running out of time. Noticing this the King held out the Harp smiling. “Though it won’t help you please take the Goddess Harp.”

The duo stared at it for a second. Link took a breath and nudged Zelda to her ancestor. ‘It’s your family's instrument not mine.’

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re the apparent Hero, you should have the honor.” The tone was teasing as she stepped forward to take the golden harp. “Thank you for meeting with us.”

“I’m still shocked that I got a chance to meet you both.” The King smiled “but I’m happy we did,” as the bubble quickly shrunken down and he disappeared.

There was a pause between the pair now that they were truly alone. Zelda slowly turned around with a smile that gave Link a shiver down his spine. “You got a lot of explaining to do, mister.”

#twilight (not lu) speaks #matcha tea #legend of zelda oc #legend of zelda #legend of zelda link #legend of zelda fanfic

[coffeedrgn87]

On Gender And All Things Non-Binary

Note: Indirect mention of gender dysphoria and the struggle of living in a binary world.

During my recent (and still ongoing) recovery from gender-affirming surgery, that’s given me so much joy, and the feeling of wholeness, I’ve lived in this perfect bubble of blissful ignorance. Sorely lacking energy, I spent most of the time at home, making only small trips into the outside world. These were carefully planned trips; a coffee from the coffee place next door, Kombucha from the corner store, a few rolls of toilet paper, a sweet. None of these required much human interaction. So, for the most part my bubble of non-binary bliss stayed intact.

I devoted my recovery time to a carefully curated queer-AF TikTok feed, queer literature, art, queer movies and series, and queer fanfiction. Some five weeks into my recovery, I met a friend here and there for coffee, for brunch, for a chat. But all these friends had something very important in common. They saw me, the real me. They used my pronouns, supported my choice to have gender-affirming surgery, and were genuinely excited about all the progress I made with having my gender marker and legal name changed (by the way, that’s all done! 🥳)

So, over the past month and a half I didn’t have my normal experience. I lived in this utopia-like world where nobody misgendered me, used the wrong pronouns, or had any negative impact on my non-binary experience. Sure, I kept up-to-date on developments within the LGBTQIA+ community, especially surrounding rights, trans rights, and more. And yes, some of my favourite TikTok creators reacted to transphobic/homophobic comments, but they did so calmly and with the intention to educate. But my world still consisted of respect, for my person, for my pronouns, for me. A few weeks have passed since a friend sent me a voice message to tell me about a dream, yet I remember it as vividly as though it happened five minutes ago. Why, you wonder? Because throughout the message my friend used my pronouns, and it gave me so much joy that I’m still riding high now, several weeks later.

However, my recovery is at the stage where I am able to return to work, and this means venturing out of the house for several hours at a time. It means frequent and longer interactions with other humans, more exposure to this blasted world that still insists gender is binary, and thus too many opportunities for all those little moments where I am (unfortunately) reminded that I could have my pronouns along with the sentence: ‘I’m not a woman’ tattooed on my head, and some folx would still get it wrong.

For instance, where I live pet names for strangers are common. This means I regularly get subjected to the following: pet, babes, darling, honey, hun, love etc. While these are all cute in their own right and have a time and a place, they aren’t for strangers. They are for people you are familiar with, people who want you to use these names. I don’t want a cashier to refer to me as ‘love’ or ‘darling’. Especially, because in this world that still stupidly sees gender as a binary thing when it’s nothing more but a social construct, these types of nicknames are usually given to those people this world presumes identify as female. If I go to my local corner store to get a breakfast roll, the person behind the deli counter chooses to direct those words at me. Why? Because my features are more feminine, which I, personally, I am fine with but having a more feminine appearance doesn’t mean I identify as female. The construction worker in the queue behind me, in muddied work clothes and with a masculine appearance doesn’t get any of those nicknames. They don’t even get called ‘handsome’.

And the above is not the only example, it’s just one of many. In my personal experience, it’s generally cis men who are exceptionally thoughtless when it comes to these absolutely stupid and outdated notions that a feminine-presenting individual should be given priority swiping their public transport card, or should enter a building or a room first. And the list goes on and on. Personally, I utterly dislike it when someone opens a door for me. Mind you, if I am carrying a bunch of things, I am all for it, but otherwise, no, thank you.

I know that these gestures don’t generally come from a malicious place. They are reactions that have become innate, that folx perform without thinking too much about what they are doing. Yet, that’s exactly the problem. This outdated and not at all inclusive social construct of gender being binary has let so many people to walk through the world with blinders on. While I’m almost always happy to answer questions and to educate people (often unprompted), living in a world where I have to fight to be seen (not just once but on multiple occasions throughout a single day) is emotionally and mentally draining. It zaps my energy, forcing me to withdraw for longer periods of time just to recharge my batteries. And I shouldn’t have to do that. I shouldn’t have to come home in the evening and require a solid hour of some mindless activity or other before I am able to function on some semi-normal level.

I am lucky. People who know me through my writing and friends I’ve made online and offline respect me and my pronouns. My video blurbs on TikTok don’t get bombarded with hate. I work in a company that tries very hard to respect me and works to better itself, to improve and change. I have some family that accept me for who I am and very dear friends who support me fiercely. I have a therapist I regularly yell at (not literally!), and while I desperately want a cat in my life, I have friends who share their purring fluffballs with me. I have so many things I feared I’d never have, and I am beyond grateful, but those daily reminders that too many people are so very blind when it comes to seeing that gender is most definitely not binary hurt. I still brave this world, day in and day out, but often, it’s with a heavy sigh and with a desperate wish that things were different.

I have most definitely reached the toughest part of my recovery.

#non binary #nonbinary #gender stuff #gender identity #gender is a social construct #gender dysphoria #gender diversity #gender affirming care #gender affirming surgery #recovery #mental health #real life #this world is not binary #gender is not binary #the struggles of not being seen #coffeedragon muses #coffeedragon thoughts #nonfiction

[belovedharringrove]

so i made a post saying that if you want proof that billy is abused by neil, that you should watch the scene where neil's asking him where max is with an abuser (but, like. don't actually do that if you can avoid it) and @sonneillonv asked to see my perspective on it.

okay so start this off properly

TRIGGER WARNING

there will be discussions of abuse to both a real person (me) and a character (billy).

i'm putting my thoughts in order as i write this so this may either be extremely short or very long.

right. i am 21 years old and i work and make my own money, and during all these years i have been abused physically, verbally and let's say financially. the physical abuse has slowed down but from the time i was 6-7 to when i was about 17 my father abused me physically almost every day, sometimes for what i considered to be the dumbest reasons but he considered to be disrespect. my dad worked in construction his whole life so he didn't have the lightest hand in the world either.

when i watched s2 e8 (correct me if i'm wrong but i believe that's the episode) i was with both of my parents.

in the episode, billy's getting ready for a date and neil knocks on his door demanding to know where max is, start insulting him, etc.

the moment i saw nail hit billy, i immediately went "see? billy lashes out at everyone because he's being abused. that is abuse." and my 60 year old father immediately disagreed with me. he said that no, that's not abuse, but billy was being disrespectful and maybe if billy had spoken better to him, neil wouldn't have had to punch him, billy could've gotten away with a slap to the wrist!!! which is a form of manipulation that he's used with me before. you know, the apologies that go "i'm sorry i yelled at you in public, but if you hadn't pissed me off i wouldn't have had to scream at you!".

then we get to the part where neil asks billy to repeat himself and i say "that's a tool that abusers use as a way of holding power over their victims" and my father once again disagrees with me. says that sometimes as a parent, you need to ask your children to repeat things so "the lessons stick better" and "they don't keep making mistakes". when i asked what mistake billy made, he floundered and then said billy lost max and when i pointed out that, in me and my older siblings case, we could both be home at the same time and be none the wiser because we're always in our rooms. perhaps the same thing can happen to billy and max? y'know, because they're humans and billy can't be expected to helicopter over a moody teenager the whole day unless he wants her to throw her skateboard at him? he just got quiet and told me to shut up.

then we get to the part that billy goes to the byers' house and he gets into a fight with steve. when max grabs the syringe and injects billy with the medicine, i say "she shouldn't have done that, that was very dangerous thing to do. billy could've died." and my mom says "but they were using that to put will to sleep, it wouldn't have hurt him." i then have to explain that we don't know billy's medical history. he could've had an allergic reaction to the medicine and simply just died. i am 100% certain that none of them have cpr training or even would've known what to do if that had happened. then they go and take billy's car, leaving him drugged and with no mode of transportation.

at this point my father is not very happy and says "well, billy is a grown man! if he hated being abused so much, he could've just fought back!" and- no. he couldn't.

billy looks like a grown man because dacre montgomery was around 23 years old in 2017 when season 2 came out and, let's be honest, the man is pretty fucking fit. but billy was a teenager. only 17 years old. it's not he didn't want to fight back, it's that he couldn't.

as a 21 year old, i have my abusive father financially dependent on me while he waits to be retired. i could easily deny him a single cent that he asks of me but i cannot. not because i'm incapable, but simply because my mind goes 'he's your father, he raised you, he loves you, do you really wanna turn into him? he did his best while raising, he wasn't perfect but who is?' and that's only a few of the thoughts that go through my mind. billy is 17 years old and similar things probably go through his mind, plus maybe 'i don't have anyone' because max proved she doesn't care for his wellbeing back at the byers house, susan wouldn't come to his defense and neil is his abuser. he's far from california, he has no friends and no other family. he's completely alone.

i really hope this made sense and i put it in a way that people understand. i am emotionally drained now because this is a difficult topic to breach for me, but if you have any questions or need me to clear anything up, just reply or send me a pm and i'll be happy to answer.

#billy hargrove #tw #tw abuse #tw abuse mention

[onecentwriter]

☀️ JUNE ☀️

✨ Writing Prompts ✨

***PLEASE CREDIT ME***

Romantic

Enemies-to-lovers where the superhero falls in love with the supervillin. A is the number one hero/ine, and after they encounter B, the number one villain, bleeding out in an alley, they take a chance and decide to help them.

5 times A didn’t tell B they were asexual, and one time they did.

A works in a flower shop, and they are an expert in the language of flowers. 5 times they send B a bouquet that quite literally screams “I LOVE YOU” while B doesn’t get it, and one time B does and returns the gesture.

A and B are rival politicians, but when both of them start losing popularity, their boss constructs an elaborate scheme to convince the world that A and B are dating. A and B go along begrudgingly, but what happens when they slowly start falling for each other?

PRIDE MONTH BABEY!! Another grumpy-one-is-soft-for-the-sunshine-one fic! Similar to the previous prompt, A is a moody English teacher, and B is a bubbly Art teacher. But here’s the catch—they’re the same gender. And both very gay. This story would probably touch on a lot of themes of pride in a school and in a workspace, and how a little bit of sunshine can light up the darkest places.

[title idea for above fic] ‘oh, sunshine (won’t you light me up?)’

Angst

A is a famous singer online, with millions of views and followers, but it’s a complete secret—none of their friends know about it. They think it’s for the better, but when their fame grows, some of their secrets might start to catch up to them.

A is told that they’ve contracting a fatal disease. At first they are heartbroken, but when they tell B, B decides that the two of them are going to go on a road trip to make the most of A’s limited time. This story would probably have a sad/bittersweet ending, where the epilogue is B attending A’s funeral.

A and B are old rivals-to-reluctant-allies who have been caught in their lives as criminals and are about to be executed. The reason they got caught was because B made a huge mistake, and A doesn’t want to forgive them. However, neither of them want to enter the afterlife angrily, so they slowly apologize to each other. This story would probably be told by alternating between ‘present tense’ (the execution date) and all of A and B’s past interactions/experiences. The ending could be with them getting saved, but I think it would be better to have it end with the execution. Maybe each of them saying weakly, “Friends?” “Friends.” Right before they die.

It’s the apocalypse, folks. A is rough, battle-worn, and is determined to be solitary, as to not have any weaknesses. B is a helpless kid, alone in the desert. A stumbles across B, and reluctantly nurses the overheating child back to health. Slowly the two bond, after A promises B to help find their family. Unfortunately, it’s revealed later on that B never existed—that A was just hallucinating and that A is dying. I think this would be such a heartbreaking plot twist to stab your readers’ hearts. Maybe the reveal is a dream where B says sadly. “Oh, A. I’m not here.” “Wh-no, you are. You’re real.” “I’m not. I never have been.”

A character study of Death, and the easiest, hardest, happiest, and saddest lives they’ve had to take. Could touch on animal deaths, but to make this as heartbreaking as possible I’d stick to humans. Some of the memories could be: easiest: a villain; for example, ‘Death doesn’t even falter as they brush their deadly fingers across [villain]’s forehead—in fact, a satisfied smile grows on their face as they watch [villain’s pronoun] crumble into dust.’ hardest: a person who begs Death not to take them. ‘“Please,” they gasp, “please no, I’m not ready, I can’t, no, please—” They break down into sobs.’ happiest: you might want to read this chapter of my fic to understand fully, but maybe Death taking the life of their mortal lover, who was separated from them by the disapproving gods. Probably a very happy reunion. saddest: Death taking a newborn child, and mourning what that baby will never get to be.

Fluff

Summer Olympics AU! Person A is a gymnast, and one of the best in the country. There’s a lot of pressure on them, but when they meet B + B’s friends, A learns how to enjoy their sport and have fun. Also A’s horrible coach gets yeeted.

Put your characters in a musical! Pretend as if they’re actors in the production. Drama, heartbreak, you name it—all leads up to the climactic Opening Night. Will the cast be able to throw together a performance, or will they ruin everything? This show is brought to you by HBO Max (just kidding, just kidding).

Slice-of-life my beloved!! A is a teenager who’s mourning the loss of their mother. They move to a small beach town hoping to find something to distract themselves from the grief—they didn’t expect to find a family there too.

A is a strict middle school teacher, and B is the student they teach. B is, long story short, really struggling at home, and A finds themselves acting like a parent figure to them. Or, eventually, a real parent--because apparently, this kid's an orphan. Why. Why does A just want to shelter B and hold B tight so they'll never be hurt again gah--

A runs a newspaper, and so does B. Enemies-to-friends but with extra drama columns and roasting competitions over the span of daily papers. This could also touch on more serious themes like media bias, or you could keep it fluffy and humorous.

#story prompt #writing #writer #ao3 #prompt #5+1 fic #5+1 things #june prompts #happy pride month #btw!!! #writers understand #june #short prompt

[franettifritz]

None of this will matter

I tend to stay relatively silent in social media when it comes to trans rights and lgbtqia+ because I get my words so badly muddled if often doesn’t come across right.

What really gets me is that the bigotry, the transphobia, the homophobia the basic nastiness that comes from people who can’t even respect pronouns or hate being referred to as “cis”, because how DARE we specify we mean those who identify as their assigned gender when we speak out… none of their b.s. is gonna matter a penny when they kick the bucket. When any of us shuffle off our mortal coil.

They’re speaking with their whole chest that the alphabet mafia are shoving gay and trans and drag queens (and kings) down their throats and never once do they look in the mirror at themselves to see they’re doing the very same by pushing their binary and beliefs on everyone.

Times are changing, and we have so far to go but we’ve also come so far, and I think it’s important that we as a community don’t lose sight of that and to keep pushing back and continue fighting for our rights.

I see a fair amount of in-fighting in the queer community and it hurts to basically see a civil war when we all want the same thing. To just live, as ourselves, without fear of other’s hurting us at the bare minimum… we want to live.

It doesn’t matter what you believe happens after we pass; on the basic level we all end up as skeletons or dust and it comes down to what you want to leave behind.

Do you want to be remembered as someone who, if it came down to it, your own child wouldn’t feel comfortable opening up to about their struggles? Or a safe space who accepted a person for who and what they are and loved them unconditionally?

Do you want to cause trauma or help heal it?

A lot of the arguments I see include Christian’s citing bible verses and lines and they forget a very important one… love thy neighbour.

Not love thy neighbour as long as they conform to your bigoted beliefs. Just love thy neighbour… and you can’t do that when you fight against your neighbour’s rights as a human being and brand them a predator simply because they present themselves a certain way.

Just say you don’t understand and then be OPEN TO LEARNING. Be open to an actual conversation and a learning experience. It can be scary to say you don’t get something, AND THAT’S FINE. The important part is how you react when someone tries to explain their truth and their being to you.

Don’t leave behind a memory of you as a person who had hatred in their heart towards a group of people who aren’t doing harm… and if you’re so worried about the safety of children maybe start doing something about actual predators (look into the Catholic Church, law enforcement, school coaches to name a few) not some perceived danger because a “man in a dress” used a ladies restroom to pee!

I’d rather share a restroom with a trans person than a TERF any day.

Nobody is threatening womanhood or manhood because both of those perceptions are socially taught to us. They’re not real!

Gender is 100% a social construct and the sooner people learn that the better.

Trans, gay, lesbian, queer… we’re not going anywhere and while we will do no harm… we’ll also take no shit.

#lgbtqia #queer #lgbtqia+ #lgbtq #lgbt #trans rights #trans rights are human rights #trans #gay #lesbian #transphobia #homophobia #rambling

[stolz-und-aufrecht]

Some of my (core) beliefs about myself & the world

Some of my (core) beliefs about myself and the world caused by my upbringing in a toxic family system. I work on changing the negative ones; but it’s hard.

Raise your hand if some of these resonate with you.

Trigger warning (death, suicide)

I believe that every person, regardless of their actions, deserves love in some capacity.

I am not allowed to be angry. Anger as an emotion does not exist for me. I never get angry at anything at all. I don’t feel it. I have the patience of a saint and then some.

I feel like I don’t belong here and the privileges of humankind do not extend to me. Because I don’t belong and I’m inherently flawed, I feel like I do not have the same fundamental rights as others. I, in contrast to others, have to work for them. I am, as a person, not good enough to receive them. They have to be granted to me by someone else.

Seemingly obvious facts (for example, “I am worthy.”, “I deserve to have boundaries.”, “I am allowed to disagree with someone.”, “Anger is normal.”) do not resonate with me. They feel wrong, like they don’t apply to me. Incorporating them into my personality and daily life makes me feel guilty; like I’m doing something I’m not supposed to do. I feel like an imposter trying to take things away from people if I asserts my so-called rights. I truly feel like I have none and do not deserve them.

Expressing my anger or disagreeing with someone would reveal to them that I’m, in fact, no human being, but three racoons in a trench coat pretending to be one.

One should have empathy for every living being, even for truly horrible people. No person is completely evil. There are reasons why they act this way. Because I’m quite good at sensing where their negative traits come from, I have compassion for them. Sometimes, too much.

One should treat every person with kindness, even, if one doesn’t agree with their opinions and life choices.

I feel like I was born to serve. That’s my only purpose. I was born to serve every person I come upon, regardless of what they want from me. They have a right to it. They have a right to me.

No one else is truly evil, but I am. If people were to see this dark, deep abyss inside of me, where I have hidden all my anger and frustrations, they would come to the same conclusion.

Going to extra mile for people is the norm for me. Even if they don’t deserve my care or help. It’s an automatic feature God created me with. One time I forgot to do something at work for a colleague and although she said that it was no big deal, I could do it tomorrow, I still ran 2 miles back to work to finish it. I commute an hour by bus from and to work and hoped out as soon as I got off the phone with her. On my sprint back to work I got shit on by a bird. Talk about signs.

Others are always right. I’m always wrong.

I can’t stand someone being angry with me.

I know nothing. I know too much. I never know quite enough to even qualify to speak up during a conversation.

If I disagree with someone, state my boundaries, or express my anger in any way, shape or form, I will surely lose control of myself and either start to cry, have a full-blown panic attack or destroy the person I’m talking to by releasing all my supressed anger on them. I can never let that happen. I would embarrass myself and give away that I about three seconds from going completely mental, and not the carefully constructed personality that they know. That woman who always smiles, is super kind to everyone, easy to get along with and has definitely not a tragic past with family members that are either dead or in jail.

I am not allowed to be myself. I can’t make friends or form genuine connections. I must lie because no one really wants to know me. They say they do but will judge me a minute later.

I can’t tell them about my real hobbies because they are unconventional. I can’t tell them about my past, even if I have known these people for several years. They say they want to deepen our friendship, but I have experienced that they don’t want to hear about my true past:

I wanted to die when I was 5.

My father, an alcoholic, tried to kill my mother several times, chasing her with a knife around the apartment.

I can’t tell them that my mother was a hoarder.

I can’t tell them that I was depressed from age 12 to 23.

I have tried and failed several times. So I lie and keep things surface level.

I wish a had a best friend.

#cptsd recovery #living with cptsd #toxic parents #toxic family #core beliefs #healing #mental health #baby steps #its ok to not be ok #january 2024 #speaking my truth #people pleaser #boundaries #cptsd #trauma #trauma recovery

[randomclam24]

Why is it that the subconscious mind, underlying even religious truths in that they are repurposed, is exclusively in the hands of liberal-agreeing, in the exact sense of "I'm With Her" as the *slogan*

We can say "our problems began when we attempted to publish our findings", as I've been parroting the article title on circumcision for a while a while back

But no one alive will ever have made the connection that, *oh*, liberals getting butthurt, as they call it, over having their headspace ruined by what in their heads I guess is Republican *Zionism*, is actually this exact *construct* - liberals get their arguments across not by being the argument it is in their heads, but in pushing, and pushing, and pushing until that argument as it is by proxy is pushed in to the subconscious brain of the onlooking victim. *We* cannot do this, as all of the resulting forces as a comeback are too much for our feeble existence

Essentially, depersoning only happens when a Republican, Zionist by associating, does the subconscious insertion that a liberal does as the sure constant of their banter, for the first time, as that is the *only* time it takes before personal derailment begins as a liberal-agreement zeitgeist upon the *fundamentally*-unsuspecting host **population**

Unfortunately, what has built up over the years, being considered the same way as generational experience, by this paradigm is fundamentally inaccessible to us, as it only intensifies to the point of people, in solidarity with (whatever this implication is(?)), reducing their very existences to ham spinning on a rod to splitting to tiny pieces

Basically, *as* they're piledriving the subconscious focus into you, even the Biblical passage about all things of nature calling to the glory of the Lord is undergirded and repurposed by *nature* by the zeitgeist which is basically the zeitgeist of the *rap* culture, which is "we're still in that place, come and test us" on every *rhetorical* point.

Liberals have this entire thing like, yes, you're actually a person *except* until you're (now that the unconscious aspect is laid out, set up camp and lay out the progressive stack here arbitrarily(you could really put any shitpost)) In reality that's the precise feeling I'm having when people I trust finally just decide to cave and show their ass on real-world metapolitics

Unfortunately, something underlies, manufacturing the ensurance of consent that all this was underlied by something I did not have the intellectual fortitude in order to ultimately find myself in *compliance* with, being in the first place for its own sake seeing as I have no association - but by that right my points on projection reset back to things being as they were, as they were, as personal fallings-through are preassumed as fact to have no relevance when posed with these metapolitics

The point is I as an individual who is more than a job with metapolitics associations (or considerations of anyone in that depth for realism's sake (meaning recognizing projection, as I prioritize it more highly when in context of seriousness when it gets just ambiguously applied to muh big(?) world events)) have no right to exist before the momentous weight of references to the context of the seriousness when it gets applied to muh big(?) world events and figures as they apply to subconscious headspace specifically. [I think if God *loved* us, he wouldn't have made a human subconscious, as this is the being of these things.] Other people bear too many momentous accusations, my whole life being a mere kaleidoscope effectively bearing *witness* to these, my actual life not anything more than theoretical if and when left by itself

People act like there's something special in (whatever association this is(?)), so that it's a real shame and that I have to get my life together for bureaucratic mental gymnastics for obviously their own sake and none ever other than this for its own sake repeating at all times for its own sake which is repeating in order to drill into my subconscious acting directly countered against my conscious will, but I very most obviously, even by simple way of this description, have no motivation to want to begin to associate with these foundationally fallen creatures. Like they say America is fallen by design - that is exactly what I mean by saying this thing

What do I want? "Here's this thing you have - I'm going to fuck it up, like crumpled paper." "You'll never recognize the motivation that went into it, only the glorification of myself that came out of it."

That's everything. People outside to myself don't **have** motivation like I do.

The subconscious guilt by association *always* takes precedent to human imperfections factoring into the equation in people's subconscious - so it's implied by effect projection is a canard, even though it's the universe's guiding axis all along the entire durating that is self-insisting.

How hard is it to break to people that what you associate subconsciously by your nature does not guarantee any relationship to knowledge

When a scientist starts to speak outside their jurisdiction, it tends to be pretty quick they get criticized for going outside their expertise

But everyone, "absolutely" everybody, says positively - subconscious affectation is *absolutely* jurisdiction That's why laymen will sotter themselves out like ham disintegrating on the spinning rod, knowing they do it without shame. They *know* they can do this because they can get away with no negative effect - ability for "I'm With Her" subconscious to manifest forcefully in the *other* is all that matters.

You can't just demand people have open minds like liberals always have succeeded in doing. That's not natural. We'll spend hundreds of years figuring and not figuring out what they've really done to us. What *have* they done? I don't *realize*. But no liberal ever told me that, so I discount any valuation of their open-mindedness as a virtue. [It is a baseline requirement to keep you off the streets though - that will snake you in the ass certainly]

Without "I'm With Her" jewish noses in our subconsciousnesses, we would have:

More of the exact singularity we perfected, because people have to still have jobs for arbitrary made-up reasons by bureaucrats ultimately

Speaking reasonably, either way you get labyrinthine garbage insisting upon itself for its own sake for its own sake, implying *by that* something esoteric which it ultimately then just won't *help* you on. It's all the same. You get to the sophomore year of college education, and nobody can help you without lazily disproportionate levels of time-wasting and going back-and-forth for its own sake for its own sake in a personal meeting with the college professor who can't ultimately *help* you if you don't help yourself which would have to just come from without like *most* people's assumptions, just like seeing any psychologist who isn't even highly regarded in the *first* place in that sense

Update We're not allowed to acknowledge the existence of people as figures that don't just ultimately signpost to an abstraction. For the most part, though, there would only be negative effects from doing that, like acknowledging projection as the universe's new guiding principle in all things more so than any other law. People's theories don't translate into activity, because if they did, the cover of plausible deniability we all exist under under the "I'm With Her" subconscious agreement system we all exist under that's already *complete* would then and thereby have been fully and completely retracted by ourselves. Who would be willing t-

We want our kids to be protected (*do* we? under this toxic environment?(but now that that's out of my head and into writing, it's been assimilated to saying what the police already think when they're storming a man's house for his "transgender" child(only naturally))), under this umbrella of plausible deniability that we would *never* rectify action against "I'm With Her" singularity consensus - is it that they're just (now) garnering this consensus, like it hasn't predominantly existed throughout actual real-life experience througout my entire life?, so that they're the victims? - I don't know what's going on

On the Earth *I* come from, those of the uniparty who are of the "I'm With Her" singularity consensus ultimately, revealed through caving and showing their ass on metapolitics issues in casual talk where for some whatever reason they felt the need *in* their ass to do this specifically to save face somehow?, this being the need to save face at where I am not existent by sheer evidence of the treatment in the situation?, are the ones lifelong-dominating us and nitpicking our every *thoughts.* I just want to be gone(and that has *left* the opinion singularity intact spewing on overdrive mocking us for our every attempt at effort, as nitpicking-posting *online* like on 4chan has been our *only* comeback at salvation. What a hoax! That's the real hoax, folks.)

You keep tweezing - maybe we'll quit being *meat* packets one day

You - oh, *not* you, because of what I'm about to describe - do *I* - specifically and *exclusively* I, because of the same description Do I want to know what is really happening with that? No one else I've associated with has any *awareness* to these fallings-through because they've had no desire to do any action at *all*, which is a requirement by which to see, because actualization reveals these kinds of things, that we're fucked utterly beyond all resuscitating, and in the speech of the "I'm With Her" singularity shills, which are most generally just common people, so no shilling, it's because we're failed. Really, I don't know what that means, as I have no affiliation with any persons living or dead. I never *have* What I'm doing is just the exceptionalism from a purely abstracted state by what we can do *despite* whatever the foundationally fallen state is or might prove to be in process, acknowledging in process and moving right on, because we don't have *time* for these things. If you want to foundationally make your state fallen, then you just move right on, because you have no *place* here What's that? Everyone who cared about actual action is dead? I'm just going to keep *denying*

I've only ever heard of it when invoked at the most extreme level, but it's really the stance taken at every level of proactivity taken against the "I'm With Her" establishment: If you want civil war, we start at your house - specifically state your name and address - they're *not* taking what (look - nobody cares what [I'm trying to redirect their focus after the fact of them making that as their very thing their very first own move, hand-having the act of doing so at a subliminal level - like I'm not even registering what specifically it is in the first place they're *doing*, so why can *I* be allowed to attest to human activity as the focus in the first place (in any case if I acknowledged what was really being done spiritually at that subconscious level, I would never be able to contain the hatred resulting directly ensuing from it and be sent to prison right away, so there's no profit throughout this run in doing *that*)] Focusing to specifics is not a concept. [This is already debunked in advance - the act of doing so in itself is hand-had to the act of depersoning a person and singling them out] It's like I live on a different planet. Why would I *ever* then relate to other people? It's insane! There's *no* context provided. [And then they singularly repeat ad infinitum then if there's no reason for them to be upset at me, then there's *no reason* for me to be *upset*, as I'm evidently from experience no more than the projection sum described previous]

I don't *know* my history. I'm actually a first-generation partly because my dad was born somewhere else and moved at a young age. I can only see the current state as fundamentally divorced from all past circumstance, and that makes it appear exclusively akin to *demonic* possession

And at the end of the day, what I'm thinking and feeling is actually divorced from what I'm writing, so all the reference to all the best of what other people in their writing have afforded is lost and wasted while the establishment just has to step in saying my personal atomization as an example monitored keeps being their best *asset* - by that, they can justify openly tyranny on earth, because I'll just keep *coping* - I have to manually put a stop to that. I felt the requirement to prevent myself washing in the shower this morning until it was completely too late with all the shower water cold.

I don't know what context then I'm supposed to *do* things in, because at some point you get stinky, and the priority to get things done is still in place unconsciously, tampering with the way things are perceived, priority-wise. That makes things malicious when I do them forcedly as I know to *always* do, because otherwise I wouldn't have survived In reality, that's a coping mechanism against people who want me, preemptively, *destroyed*, and not-personed, foundationally, by their fundamental nature [I'm positive this is where they're calling it their "common humanity", the thing that proverbially should be enough, the ignoration of which leads to branches of lashing out by them which can be taken the easy way or the *hard* way]. Looking at the human subconscious, there's *nothing* genuinely deep between us (like, at *all*) What an interpersonal relationship *is* (in the modern worldbuilding) does not translate to action at *all* - in the sense of "I'm With Her" presupposedly-required tagging-along does that translate in their minds to compulsive *action*, otherwise they send you to a *group* home - they're just, as it's been said, when you try to go doing that yourself, going to stab you compulsively targeting preemptively the back of the neck when once they see the *opportunity.*

[the-pen-is-mighty-and-so-are-you]

Grounding my story - pt.2, from wp blog 25/04/2020

My 'Project Outline', week by week - part of my current strategy for staying on track

I'm also being more present with my goals. I'm accepting that each piece I write now is a rough wooden block that will need either sanding down or throwing away due to rot - but each will help me learn more and develop my writing skill, and help me construct the rest of the story more effectively. So no time feels wasted - everything I am writing is either a building block or an exercise.

This goes hand in hand with the patience I am sustaining with this project; I'm giving myself time to weather ideas in my head, mature them until they become a nice wine I'm ready to work with. As such, the next section has been playing around my head since before I'd written last week's - but it wasn't until now that I knew how to go about it. Give yourself plenty of time to plan until it feels right to act.

Okay, so I've mentioned the 'next section' a lot, so I think it's time to share it with you. This first bit I've written to ground the upcoming story in reality and in the context of its 'when' - that's the 'why'. It's the opening third of a chapter that will be introducing a main character, that will simultaneously introduce you into a very fantastical world - which is why I'm going out of my way to embed it in something 'real' and 'human' that everyone can understand and relate to. With this piece, we're getting closer and closer to the start of the plot, going from the vague second-person view of last week's, to the perspective of an outside third person (that also happens to be a somewhat non-fictional account of a certain day).

Now you know my approach, visitor - so with that in mind (or not), please enjoy the next stepping stone in my new project!

That Tuesday… she remembers that Tuesday.

They set off from her boyfriend’s flat with the hearty swells and adventurous intentions of, “Let’s have a proper date day.” They caught the bus to the high street – Princes Street, or ‘Princess’ Street as her boyfriend always texts it – and get off near Primark, their habitual place of consumer return. It’s affordable, and trendy, and their extra-small t-shirts fit just right around her boyfriend’s huggable chest.

It’s already a bit off though. They could tell. Only them and three other customers, max, on each floor. Most of the people were staff, murmuring, all confiding in each other, none alone. The government’s only recommending things so far, so we’re still in the right, she reassured herself. Anyway, she felt like they were king and queen, riding that escalator onto the floor with fishnets and perfume, although that quickly reduced to a more mundane status when they went to the ‘home’ section for her boyfriend to pick out baskets (thanks, Marie Kondo) – but then she felt like a royal fairy as she got to dance between shelves of candles, sampling all the scents, picking out one that would be used that night but not for at least another two months after. Could imagine fairies, smelling too, twirling in the air and throwing cushions at each other in the emptiness of night. Not with that security guard around, though, that one she kept awkwardly smiling at, and then quickly looking away from, trying to be an amiable customer, testing that line and wobbling over to ‘suspiciously happy’.

Starting the date day off with a heavy bag, she remembers. They both shrugged sheepishly at each other and reckoned they’d survive carrying their haul, kneeling side by side as they organised both their backpacks. They did. It was a short day. And a sunny one, as they stepped outside and wondered what to do next. They were aiming for a film, later on, and were trying to fill two hours.

They wandered around the corner towards the closed chihuahua café, saw from the bottom of the street that pressing behind the bright pink door and window was a disheartening scroll of blind. Even seeing it closed, she smiled. The sun was so, so bright after all, and they were on a date. So she pointed at the Thornton’s shop and somehow or other they were guided in. She recognised the woman behind the counter – square glasses, small frame, bright voice, she’d drawn out “Merry Xmas, BB x” on a chocolate plaque nearly five months prior. Did she remember? She seemed familiarly friendly, but perhaps she made it her job to always be.

She tried to be friendly too. Or was, one and the same, really, no shame in putting in effort. They were fixated on the chocolate fountain, and were pleasantly surprised by the woman’s jolly helpings, putting in more than was due of doughnuts, fudge, mini brownies, strawberries, and lashings of liquid milk chocolate (her mouth waters just remembering it). The woman put in two spoons for them with a smile, no hesitation. The whole exchange was delightful – the product, the friendly chatter, the smell and quiet atmosphere of the shop. A perfect conversation had taken place, nothing to make anyone’s heart race unnecessarily, no clunky moments.

As smooth as the words their steps found their way outside Thornton’s and back around the street corner. They crossed the half-busy road, found a bench almost facing Primark (or was it? It could have been directly opposite). They indulged on their find. They echoed in quiet sighs of blissful satisfaction as the chocolate filled their mouths and padded each bite with joyous goo; she beamed at her boyfriend who was enjoying something she liked as much as she liked it for the first time. They had more than enough to share, yet still finished, which made her all the more satisfied. She presented the proudly remembered napkins and they cleared up and binned the crime scene and began their journey to the film.

The number 10 bus, it was, to ‘Ocean Terminal’. 10? 4? 10? Yes. No. A shiny, double decker Lothian bus, to Ocean Terminal. We sat on the front on the top deck - her favourite seat, like the car in a safe and steady rollercoaster.

They enjoyed the trip, like tourists, pausing only to play day-dreams in her head or video games on his phone. They passed the Balmoral Hotel, the grand architecture designed for visitors who no doubt arrived from first class carriages in the trains next door. This marked the rounding of a sly corner, at which point they passed the huge construction project that might be a shopping centre by the time they graduate. The bus drove parallel to the glass body of the Omni Centre, housing a possible cinema of choice, but not their present one (and couldn’t be, for a while to come). The remainder of the journey became more twisty and harder to recall, sometimes through people’s neighbourhoods, sometimes sandwiched in narrow landscapes of battered small businesses. At some point, she knew, they were in Leith, but she couldn’t see a distinct territorial line they crossed. But at some point, they arrived at Ocean’s Terminal, at a shaky temporary stop in a sea of construction work, and at that point she knew, for definite, they were in Leith.

The construction shambles disguised the usual entrance and already she felt unsure as to whether their date plans would be fulfilled. They approached: the roller rink was open, sort of, they thought, with flashing disco lights pulsating through dark windows. Promising. If all else fails, they can pull on roller skates, she thought. As they came to the shopping centre’s entrance – Wilcomme, Bienvenue, Welcome overhead – they witnessed people passing through from both ways.

Relieved, minorly, they pushed through two sets of doors; the left was now designated for only those going in. At first all they could see were the lack of people and lots of closed fronts. He made a nervous joke about police and being caught, or something.

The more they ventured, the more people they saw, in numbers they could count on hands. Once they realised no-one was being arrested or kicked out, they felt more reassured and climbed the escalators to the cinema.

On the first they noted which shops were open, brief reprises in blank avenues of grey shutters and display lighting. Tourists in a new, strange zoo. Holding hands. Standing close.

They walked across the plateau and craned their necks like perverted detectives at the heart-sinking scene by the cinema. They discussed the outcome, and climbing the second escalator they predicted, but were still upset to see – tall, black shutters and small white squares of apologies taped to them.

Well, they sighed. He seemed more upset, frustrated – the film had been their goal. Maybe he was spooked, as she was too, and this was how he vented. They made a return to the level below that could have been embarrassing, if there had been more than the few ghosts there were. As it was, they silently glided down and joined the silent presences. Everything was quite hushed, so they covered it up with conversation, deciding what to do. They weren’t hungry, so all the puppy-eyed restaurants could not be saved. Maybe shopping? No, clothes felt unappealing and a sub-par activity.

“Well, at least we have the view,” she’d said, gazing at the two-storey span of window before them, showcasing a sky that, she now can’t remember, was either seeping out evening colours or glowing out the staple Scottish grey. Whichever it had been, they’d felt comforted by it, so naturally gravitated towards the outside doors. They linked arms and leaned over the railing. The Victorian dirt poor would rent a night on rope and use it to sleep – she imagined they were a modern picture of that, but awake and exploiting a free metal pole. They looked up at the view, at the Queen’s boat linking to the building, at seagulls and waves, and then ground, and then nothing, contemplative but content – until, in the corner of their eye, they saw the water move.

#creative writing #i'm using she/her for a self-insert character and that feels weird #wow i was wayyy too ambitious with my writing goals

[deviant-nomad]

Here's what I think is probably up with most of you, it's what was up with me,

you have done the thing other people have told you to do for your entire life

and now you don't know what to do, because guess what? 

Freedom is awful and I can't decide what to have for dinner, much less what to do with the rest of my life. You have an infinite number of paths ahead of you, pick! Join the army or the Peace Corps or the clergy. Go to grad school or business school or a horoscope school, where astrologers go to school? Do your side hustles and start a podcast and follow your dreams, until you realize that your dreams aren't actually that great because work is much more to do with the people you do it within your own attitude than whatever it is you're actually doing. 

I love science, and I got a job doing science after I graduated and it was miserable. Not because I didn't like the science, it's because I was the only person in the lab. All the time, just me and my pipettes and a family of armadillos and a giant canister of liquid nitrogen, and yes, that sounds kind of awesome. But after six months, it's a little lonely. If you are very lucky, you have discovered something you like doing. It is very easy to get through life without discovering a sale-able skill that you enjoy, and that is, by the way, how dream jobs actually happen: you find a thing that you like doing, at least most of the time, and you do it enough that you get good enough at it that people will pay you to do it. So, if you like doing a thing that has economic value, continue doing that thing. You are one of the lucky ones. 

If you don't, welcome to being most people. To you, I offer only this: you are normal. We evolved for a world so unlike the one that we find ourselves in that it is amazing any of us can function at all. Humans are, above everything, adaptable. But, the idea that any of this stuff -- careers and job interviews and diplomas and the jobs themselves -- is like a normal human construction that like, that you're designed to ta--ngh-- it's crazy! It's all brand-new super weird cultural constructions that didn't exist, like 300 years ago. This stuff all seems very normal, it's not! And if you base your self-worth on it, which we do -- we are asked to! It's what society says our value is -- but if you do, it's going to be real hard to be happy. 

You don't need a job that changes the world and that's environmentally friendly and that is creatively fulfilling in every way and that uses any diploma, much less the diploma that you happen to have. You need to feel valuable, but all of the different constraints that is being placed on like what a "valuable life" looks like -- it's not! It's way too much to expect from anyone, much less everyone! It takes so long to get it in your head! You didn't go to school to learn how to get a job, you went to school to learn! And you did it! You know more stuff now! 

So, you might never know what you're doing, but do me this favor: get out of bed every morning knowing that no one changes the world alone and no one doesn't change it at all. We are all exceptional and none of us are. And we are all lost, sometimes. So follow a path -- any path -- until you get to a place that you feel like you don't like, and then change your direction. Because there's one thing that you are making every day, no matter what you're doing, and that is yourself. That is your job. And you must do it well. For me, there's a lot of strength in knowing that the wandering that I am doing, that I've done, is normal and kind of beautiful and not something I should be stressed out about. 

You're on a path. You don't know where it's going, and that would be boring if you did.

#existentialism #quarter life crisis

[arielmagicesi]

I’m aware that this is the second time in a month that I’ve sad-posted the way I used to. idk what happened, sometime around the High Holidays, something was uncorked in me and my old insecurities came roaring back, only this time with the added benefit of my memories about my ex-girlfriend to give them extra fuel. I’ve been down this road so many times and it’s led me very bad places and I don’t know why I’m back here again. I already know logically that romance is a myth, virginity is a social construct, and that amatanormativity is a demon plague on society, but I let myself be vaguely horny for 5 minutes and instead of doing what I usually do, which is fantasize about emotionally-detached straight women taking pity on me so they can have a lesbian experience (or something similar where I can suspend my disbelief long enough that a woman would deign to touch me), I thought “hmm you know what would really be nice, having an emotionally intimate experience with another queer woman who actually wants me, for real” and it just... reminded me that that’s never going to happen, and like I said. I KNOW that it doesn’t matter that that’s never going to happen, because my worth as a human isn’t dependent on sex or romance or validation from others. I have worth as a human, and I deserve to live, and there are so many wonderful things in the world and things I can bring to the world. But I don’t know, I guess my longing for emotional and sexual intimacy with someone who actually wants me and treats me nicely... just hurt too hard, and the complete lack of validation throughout my entire life in that category (and yeah, the aforementioned ex-girlfriend and sexual experience with her only served to cement that I’m unwanted in that category, and I’m not gonna get into why because it’ll require some trigger warnings)... idk it just set me off crying for four hours. Which sucks cause now, even after sleeping all night, I have a fucking headache and feel shitty.

Anyway. Thanks so much if you reached out to say something nice, but please don’t, like, put my mental health in your hands; I don’t want to be that Internet grown-up making you therapize me. None of you have to do that. Maybe I need to rewatch Crazy Ex-Girlfriend again so I can relearn my Rebecca Bunch theory. I just need to do something to stop me having these feelings, because the solution “um??? just get laid like a normal person and then you’ll be cured” fucking first of all, FUUUUUCK you for pressuring people into having sex if you say shit like that online, you know that’s what you’re doing right... and second of all, doesn’t work, just lures in people who want to hurt you because they know you’ll tolerate any treatment as long as you get to say that you technically had sex, and that’s just! hm not what I want! (idk if these tenets apply to hot people, but they apply to me)

but I need to stop tumblrposting sadposting for sure because I don’t want to upset people on here and it also doesn’t help. so. yeah

#written by me #lmao i almost tagged this with shadows because i'm so used to tagging posts with that during my clearing-out-my-likes spree #seriously i've reached like. last october in my likes. it's too much man!!! i like this show but jesus christ!!! #anyway