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goldenflurry · 2 years

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The portal opening echoed through the open area of the nether that Cub was in, he was placed at a ruined portal that had been left behind, abandoned and turned into a new opportunity. The falls of lava dripping in the distance from the over hanging ledges, was the only motion outside of the portal itself, it’s purple glow was alluring, tempting him to step through. Cub eyed the portal carefully, he’d never been outside before, the nether was all he knew. Though fixing a portal and lighting it up had sent him into a spiral of curiosity, what was on the other side? Was it actually useful? He’s only heard tails of distant lands covered in colors he couldn’t even imagine, colors like, green and blue! Cub stared into the swirling purple, the color was magnificent, shining brightly as it made sounds he couldn’t even describe.

Slowly Cub reached his hand to the portal, he had no idea if he could even get back after going through, in fact he was told the places beyond the nether could be dangerous for hybrids alike him. The portal’s energy danced on his fingers as fire endlessly danced on netherrack’s surface, it was energizing, interesting, enticing, anything but worry was in his mind. A bright smile flashing on his face, “you only live once!” He thought pushing his body into the portal as fast as he could, not leaving anymore time for doubt to settle in.

Cub gasped lightly as he fell to the ground, the area was bright like looking directly into a pit of lava, but everywhere. He squinted his eyes while shuffling to his knees, this land was very different already. A breeze brushed by his skin causing him to jump at the sudden feeling, usually a breeze passing meant someone, or something, was too close for comfort. Cub jumped to his feet and looked around, there was no one, nothing, just wind, and the scene around him. His eyes had adjusted to the light, and the area he landed in was more than he ever could have imagined, a sky not covered by netherrack, flowing blades of grass and flowers dotting the field, a warm but not over powering warmth from the bright sun in the ocean of a sky, clouds flowing across gently. Cub was in awe, colors he’d never seen everywhere, this place was indescribable for him. Cub walked forwards slowly, trying to take in everything and anything, wanting to get all he could stored in his memories. He had no idea if he’d ever return after this adventure, or if he’d go too far from the portal. As much he wanted to run through this new world, he did not want to loose his only way back home.

Cub sat in the grass, running a hand over the soft green blades, stopping at a flower. Gently Cub touched the flower, the petals felt like they’d crumble away if he touched it too harshly. Gently grabbing a petal, Cub pulled lightly on it, the flower bending until releasing the the tugged petal. Cub held the petal in his hand rubbing it between his fingers, this consistency was one soft, an unusual feeling for a blaze born. This world seemed very soft compared to the nether, soft, fresh, open. Cub looked out to the rolling hills, watching the shadows of clouds pass over the swaying plants in the grass. If Cub hadn’t known better he’d say this place was made if dreams, it felt so unreal.

Cub had been laying down for what was probably hours now, the sky had changed to a soft pink and was fading into it’s deep blue, small shining stars beginning their nightly duty to blink in the sky. The fact the sky could change colors was more interesting than anything in the nether, Cub absolutely adored this world, only finding it hard to want to leave as more time went by. If he knew how to survive in this world like he does in the nether he would stay, but he knew little to nothing about this place, he was extremely lucky to even find a portal in as good of shape as the one he had. Not many ruined portals had the perfect amount of obsidian in a nearby chest to fix the portal, let alone it being in a secluded place which allowed him to fix it and step through. Cub sat up, the sky a deep blue, sparkling lights dancing in the darkness, a large circle that he could actually look at unlike the other that had left the sky by now. As enchanting as it was Cub decided it had been long enough of a trip. He had to go home, but he will remember this place, and return in the future. With that decided, Cub walked to the portal, only looking back at the field once just before stepping through the portal, returning to the nether.

#I haven’t posted anything for two years on main #this will break my streak of no posts #oh well :shrug:#I bring my thoughts written out because I want to share these things #golden types #Cubfan135 #hc cubfan #hermitcraft cubfan #BlazeBorn!cub #blaze!cub #hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #nether to overworld experience #part 1? maybe?

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bravenewolympus--hq · 16 days

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𝒄𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏.

this character is allied with the garden of the gods.

suggested faces — please note, this character must be 30+ years old. monica barbaro; phoebe tonkin; monica bellucci; margot robbie; vanessa kirby; tatiana maslany; rebecca ferguson; lizzy caplan; tati gabrielle; adeline rudolph; nathalie emmanuel; nathalie kelley; eve harlow; leighton meester; teyonah parris; kiersey clemons; andy allo; antonia thomas; fahriye evcen.

suggested occupations. personal security/bouncer of garden of the gods; costume designer working for the garden of the gods, or responsible for sets and lighting, or decorating of the themed upstairs rooms some of the garden's permanent residents work from in-house.

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏. 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝝂𝒆.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive?

#city rp #crime rp #mature rp #21+ rp #discord rp #open female #female skeleton #open skeleton #open female skeleton #demigods #circe #reservations

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tisafloat · 7 months

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I've always been looking for love, i guess

But the first time wasn't even about love

It was about me always being the person who wanted to make everybody like her

So when he asked if he could kiss me i said "sure, why not?" and after a few "why not" we were dating

And after a couple frustrating months i stopped talking to him and he called me out on it and i thought well it feels like a good time to break up

And he cried, and i cried and my mother thought i was stupid and my aunt called me a whore

I was twelve

I learned around then that i was alive and had feelings too, apparently

When i changed schools and met him, he called my attention and i called his the first day, but he was dating

So i dismissed the feeling, happy to just make new friends

I met her and i fell in love with her, but it was never romantic, even though it was the strongest kind of love i had experienced since forever

Then he broke up and we hooked up and we laid on the street, and we kissed and we danced and i was happy

I remember being happy, waiting for buses and being happy

But you cheated on me and you asked me to have sex with you and i didnt want to and you wanted to leave but i wanted you so bad i couldnt let you go

But you left anyway and i remember being miserable and i remember you fucked everything up and you made me fuck everything up but also put me first, even if it was to turn down a kiss or screw up a test i didnt want to pass

But you came back, of course you did, and you were dating someone else because of course you were and you still wanted me because of course you did and oh of course i wanted you too but i knew i had feelings then, so i couldnt betray myself like you did but i kept lingering around you waiting for you to change but you never truly did

And then i left and I couldn't move on from him but i felt like i had to and everyone felt like i had to so i made myself move on

I met the third one and oh how i wish i didnt

The second one taught me love was hard but the third one showed me the world wasn't kind and shit happened because shitty people existed

And he was shitty

I was swallowed by him, made small by him, lost friends and lost myself and still my virginity was the only thing i couldnt lose

It took me despair and so much fear to let you go, to push you away, to kick you out of my life

Then, so fast, i tried again, because why not (of course why not)

And he was great but he was allo so he wanted sex and he wanted intimacy and i couldnt give him any of that and god i was lost

I was scared and lonely and i wanted to be held so much

I still do

I used him

And it felt horrible later

But could i have survived if i hadn't?

Would i be alive if i hadn't lived it all?

I don't want to live any more days

Good or bad

Im just tired

My therapist said i should keep going and not resign myself to this feeling but it's so hard when you can barely get out if bed or cry or eat or feel anything besides this crushing feeling of constantly thinking how

how can i leave?

How can i not hurt anyone when i leave?

How can i make sure i cannot be saved?

How can i minimize how much i suffer?

How can i drive myself to the edge of no return?

What can i write that will not burden everyone else so much?

Because

If anyone could have saved me it would have been you but no one could, it was impossible, i'm sorry

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whumpingcrow · 3 years

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Pt. 8 "Apartment Sweet Apartment"

CW: hospital setting, medical whump, injury description/mention, PTSD themes, past noncon/abuse mentions, tics/tourettes, death mention, strangling, panic attack, aftermath of noncon, August mention (let me know if i missed anything!)

Elias was incredibly vigilant and on edge the next twenty or so minutes, flinching and ducking away from doctors at every motion towards him, scrambling away from any instrument they shoved at him, afraid of any pain they inflict. Even after they repeatedly assured him that they weren't going to hurt him, they were only there to help, he couldn't help but cower away from them. It was understandable, and they were patient with him, considering the very last thing he remembered was being strangled to death by someone who had already hurt him more than should be possible. So of course he was afraid, he had every right to be, that's what they kept telling him. And even though he mostly believed it when they said he was safe now and he was thankful he was away from August, he couldn't help but wish for his small, comforting touches, or his reassurance that he was doing ok, or a slap across the face for speaking out of turn. What was wrong with him? He was finally away from the nightmare, he had literally died to get out of it, and he was disgusted in himself for even halfway wanting August to be there.

"Alright Elias, I'm just gonna get a quick look at your throat, ok?" One of the nurses asked, as she walked in. She didn't give him a second to prepare, her gloved hands already reaching for his neck. He shrunk away from her, even with the warning.

"Oh, sorry," he whispered, leaning back towards her.

"That's ok." Her fingers danced gently against his skin, and even though she was soft, his skin was tender enough for it to hurt. He let out a soft whine as she touched one particularly sensitive spot, trying with everything in him to not pull away from her. It was difficult, every bone in his body was screaming for the pain to be over, he couldn't stand another second of the exhausting aches and stings and burns. He felt like he might pass out if he had to feel another second of it. "How badly does it hurt, scale of one to ten?"

Before Elias could answer, there was an outcry at the door, and he looked up to see Tyson standing there, watching him with a look of mixed horror and relief. "Oh, Eli, you're ok!"

The nurse pulled away from him, excusing herself from the room with a promise to come check on him later. Elias looked down at his hands, choking on his tears already. Tyson approached him rather quickly, frowning when he flinched back.

"Sorry, sorry," he rushed, his voice softer now, "I'm just... God, I'm so glad you're alright." Every word he said was absolutely dripping in relief, but Elias felt like if he were to look up at him he would be able to tell that he was faking it.

"Yeah? Are you?" Elias shot back, keeping his head ducked. He knew, if this were August, he would be hit as soon as his tone was even the slightest bit off, and he relaxed a bit when he realized Tyson wasn't going to hit him.

"Of course I am, baby," Tyson whispered, rubbing his thumb against Elias's arm, "I was so fucking worried."

"Yeah, if Allen's nick name is 'worried' then you definitely were fucking worried."

Tyson was silent for a second, pulling his hand away. "What are you talking about?"

Elias huffed, shaking his head. He was in so much pain, he was so incredibly tired, everything was still in ruins even though he was away from August. He wished they didn't save him, that way he could have just escaped all of this new turmoil. "I don't want to see you. Please get out."

"What? No, Elias please. Please don't shut me out, let me be here for you." Tyson grabbed his hand, frowning when Elias gasped in pain and pulled away. He didn't notice the horrible bruising and swelling, and he only took it to heart when Elias jumped away from his touch. "Elias why are you upset with me?"

Elias was really crying now, still refusing to look up at Tyson. He wanted so badly to be held, to find some sort of comfort in Tyson's arms, but he couldn't stop thinking about the pictures of him with Allen and all the harsh things August said about him. "I know you got rid of me to be with Allen. I saw the pictures."

"I didn't get rid of you, how could you say that? What pictures?"

Elias sobbed, shaking his head. His throat tightened at the pain the movement caused, and he wrinkled his nose as tears slipped down his cheeks. "Please get out. Please."

"Elias I swear I didn't do anything with Allen. Look at me." Elias shook his head again, so Tyson tried to make his tone softer, despite the panicked desperation he was feeling. "Eli please look at me."

Tyson looked so tired. His eyes were darkened by sleeplessness and his clothes were a mess and he was staring at Elias with a sad hope to his gaze, a hope that Elias had lost some time ago. He cried harder, which only hurt his throat and chest more. "I was so scared." He heard himself whimper. "I was so scared and you weren't going to save me and I just wanted to die, Tyson. I want it to stop."

"I know, love," Tyson hushed, placing his hand against Elias's cheek and swiping his tears, overjoyed when he let him, "I'm so sorry I couldn't help you." Elias frowned when he saw that Tyson was also crying.

"He told me you gave me up so Allen would be safe. He showed me pictures of you hugging him." He sniffled a little, groaning when he ticced. Tyson was quick to grab onto his wrist softly, stroking his skin gently to calm him down. This was the comfort Elias missed so badly, Tyson knew how to calm him down in almost unnoticeable ways instead of just allowing him to flail about like August did.

"That's not true. Elias, I didn't spend a single waking minute doing anything but worry for you and try to help find you." He leaned closer as he spoke, trying to get Elias to open up to him, to drop some of the tension from his shoulders and turn toward him fully. "Nothing happened. August lied to you."

Elias looked him over, at the way his hand fit loosely around his wrist, the tears cutting down his dark cheeks. Everything about him was begging for Elias to trust him, his face and posture screaming "You have to believe me, you have to."

"You promise?" He finally whispered. His voice was so soft and close to the edge of cracking that Tyson sighed heavily at the absolute brokenness of the question.

"I promise baby. I swear." He was flooded with relief as Elias leaned toward him, resting his head against Tyson's shoulder. He stayed still, not wanting to move and scare him away, but he was insanely pleased at the touch. Elias was ok, he was alive, and he was touching him.

When Elias was allowed to leave the hospital, he ended up back at Tyson's place. It was clean, with some Christmas lights strung up despite it hardly being fall, and bouquets of flowers scattered around. Elias sat on the couch, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

"It looks pretty in here," he remarked, his voice quiet and nervous. Tyson offered up a friendly smile as he set his things down before moving to sit next to Elias.

"All these flowers are for you. People kept dropping them off." He took Elias's hand in his own, as if he was afraid that if he wasn't touching him he would have a meltdown.

Elias nodded, chewing on his lip nervously. He stared hard at the lights because he could feel Tyson's eyes on him and he felt like if he looked back at him he would see contempt. Or maybe disappointment. He wasn't Allen, he had unfortunately survived and now he was a burden to him again. He wasn't wanted here, he could almost feel it, in the way that Tyson grudgingly sat by his side and held his hand, like he was putting on a show of his affection.

"You alright love? You're so quiet." Tyson's voice was honeyed, coated with a layer of artificial sugar. It reminded Elias of August, when he would use that sickly sweet tone as he said something horrible. It almost sounded like a compliment when he called him an idiot, like a poem when he told him no one but August cared about him, he sounded genuinely loving when he told Elias he looked better bruised and bloody than when he was ok.

"I need to use the bathroom," Elias whispered, pulling his hands away from him as he staggered to his feet. He bit back a whine at the pain that shot through every atom of his body, his head fuzzy from standing up. His vision was darkening and his head was spinning again, it caused an almost familiar anxiety to grab at him. He was being strangled, he was going to die, he could see August's face as his vision faded to black, he was dead. Elias was dead.

He felt arms around him as he swayed, and he couldn't help but clutch at Tyson's clothes as he gasped in panicked breaths. He didn't realize he'd started sobbing hard until Tyson was trying to calm him down. "Hey, hey," he hummed, rubbing his back, "you're ok, love. It's ok."

"I don't want to die!" Elias cried, and he really meant it, even though he didn't earlier, even though earlier he was peacefully accepting the warm blanket of death. "I'm so scared, Tyson! I don't want to die anymore!"

Tyson pulled him back onto the couch and sat him down, holding him close against his chest. "You're safe, Elias. I've got you, you're gonna be alright. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." He stroked Elias's back gently, then his hair, then pulled away to look at his tear stained face. "It's over now, baby. No one's going to hurt you anymore." He was whispering now, gentle and quiet with his fragile Elias.

Elias sniffled, searching Tyson's face for something. When he seemed to find it, he closed his eyes and nestled his head against his shoulder to find comfort. It felt so good to be held so gently, without the looming threat of pain or fear. "Death is so scary, Ty. It's so dark and it feels like...like the world just swallows you whole. It's so scary."

Tyson was quiet now, merely holding Elias and allowing him to speak. "I was so angry that the last thing I was gonna see was his stupid fucking face and I tried to look out the window but I...I..."

"Elias, listen to me," he ran his hands over Elias's small frame, pleased to feel his breathing had slowed a little. "No one's gonna hurt you anymore. I'm here, I'm not gonna let anyone touch you." He sighed, and Elias sat up to look up at him, sniffling softly. Tyson reached up to wipe his tears, moving slowly so he wouldn't freak him out all over again. "I hate to see you so scared and hurt. I just wanna hide you away and make you all better."

"God, I missed you. I didn't realize how much I missed you cause I thought you hated me." Elias timidly reached up to take Tyson's face in his hand gently, sighing at the forgotten familiarity. "Oh, Tyson. You're so perfect. How could I forget..." He trailed off as Tyson's hands dropped comfortably to his waist. This was familiar too, but in a sicker, more upsetting way. This touch was less innocent, it had hidden motives that Elias knew all too well by now. He didn't want that pain anymore, he didn't want to be praised and fawned over when it was only going to hurt in the end anyway. It didn't feel good when he was sober, at least when he was high he couldn't feel the pain. But now he was sober, and in a gruesome amount of pain, and Tyson was touching him in that way that meant he was going to take what he wanted any second and Elias knew he wasn't supposed to argue or it would be worse but he didn't know if he could stomach any more pain-

"What is it?" Tyson asked him, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. Elias was surprised to feel he had started trembling, and when he did realize, he ticced. "Hey, you're ok. What are you thinking about?"

"I...I really wanted my first time to be with you," he choked out, looking away from Tyson. He was ashamed, he felt used up and disgusting and discarded, why would Tyson want him now? "Or at least someone who cares about me. I mean really cares about me, not a liar like August."

Tyson frowned at him, realizing what he was trying to tell him, that August took his virginity. He must've not known about the couple videos they were sent, the gut wrenching ones fill with sobbing and pleading and typically a fair amount of blood. Tyson's heart broke for him, he hated that August had to be the introduction to all of it, that his first experience with sex was tainted by violence and deceit and pain, not love or lust or understanding. The more he thought back to those videos, the more it shattered him, ate him alive. Elias was an innocent and clueless little lamb and August was a relentless, bloodthirsty wolf. It was nothing short of a slaughter, every video. He wondered if, almost hoped, Elias was treated differently outside of them. For his sake, he wished that August had at least shown him an inkling of softness every now and then.

"I'm so sorry he ruined that for you, Eli." It was all he could manage to say, and it hardly came out in one piece over the thick hatred and disgust for August he felt. He pulled him back to his chest, placing soft kisses into his hair. "Maybe one day, when you're all healed, I'll show you how it's supposed to be."

Elias hummed softly, his fingers tugging at the buttons on Tyson's shirt mindlessly. "Yeah, I'd like that I think."

"Ok," Tyson sighed pointedly, "what do you wanna do? Are you hungry?"

"Uh... Can you just hold me for a bit longer please?" Elias whispered. Tyson nodded, his grip tightening.

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cant-blink · 3 years

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Ceratosaurus is the Rodan of Dinosaurs

I know this is out of place on my page, as I normally focus on Ghidorah stuff and don’t talk about my other interests much, buuuut, I REALLY need to get this off my chest because I’m frankly getting tired of it. If you don’t like reading rants, then don’t proceed.

Currently watching the third season of Camp Cretaceous, and no sooner than the first episode, I found something to harp on. Tis a small insignificant little detail, didn’t even take a few seconds of screen-time and I’m sure nobody will care buuut...

Why is Ceratosaurus everyone’s bitch?! Like, no matter the media, if Cerato is in it, guaranteed, it is never taken seriously! They always do this dino dirty!! I noticed this the moment that show, “Jurassic Fight Club”, came out on the History Channel because I swear, they’re the ones that started this whole paleo-meme. It was infamous for shitting on this poor thing in BOTH episodes it appeared in, so hard that even my sister who doesn’t know shit about dinosaurs took notice that Cerato is everyone’s BITCH.

But it’s not just that shitty excuse for a documentary, no. Because even the acclaimed, “When Dinosaurs roamed America” did it! It was getting its ass whooped from all directions in there too! Bet even the Dryosaurus family it was hunting could kick its ass if they really wanted to!

Then, Jurassic Park 3 (which I unironically enjoy) is the first time seeing Cerato in the movies. At least it LIVES for once, but all it does is sniff Spino’s shit because that’s all it’s good for! And now Camp Cretaceous is in on it too! One second on screen and already completely fucked up the ass! Is it because it was the only carnivore in the park that isn’t a deranged, ravenous, mass murdering psychopath? That’s why, isn’t it? Poor lil shit. I read the Cerato went re-extinct in the franchise before Fallen Kingdom even came out. Now we know why, I guess! Because it exists to be fodder!

I’ve decided that Ceratosaurus is like the Monsterverse Rodan of the dino world. Rodan is a total badass, thoroughly whooping Mothra’s ass all the way in the KotM’s movie. But, noooo, everyone seems to think he’s a total bitch who can’t do shit. Like, he didn’t have a scratch on him that whole fight, but look at Mothra, burning and beaten to a pulp, can barely move. It was clear who was winning that fight, before the bullshit Mothra LITERALLY pulled right out of her ass.

Cerato is Rodan! Cerato is the underrated underdog people like shit on, but was in reality a successful predator with a badass appearance, with horns, a very heavily-built body for a theropod so you know it’s a tough mother-fucker, and it had giant-ass teeth bigger than usual for a carnivore its size. Cerato is often found without hardly any signs of injury despite the harsh environment it lived in, because they’re just THAT good at surviving. Yet people like to shit all over it. Cerato deserves more, Cerato deserves love!

And before anyone says something....

This is coming from someone who likes Allosaurus more.

And let it be known while I’m on the topic:

Despite common myths, Cerato and Allo did not compete with each other as they had completely different niches. They had no real beef, and likely avoided conflict with each other.

Shows like ‘Jurassic Fight Club’ and ‘When Dinosaurs Roamed America’ like to push this narrative that Cerato was top predator until Allo showed up and killed them all off. When in fact, they appeared roughly the same time as each other, Cerato even being a bit younger! And there was no “Allo drove Cerato to extinction”. Again, they had different niches, different foods. No beef. In fact, Ceratosaurs evolved further to become the Abelisaurs, who ruled over the southern hemisphere while the Tyrannosaurs ruled the north. They lived to see the asteroid that killed the non-avian dinosaurs. What became of Allo’s descendants? All extinct long before that asteroid showed up, replaced by Tyrannosaurs and said Abelisaurs. Ironic.

What’re Abelisaurs, you ask? Does the name ‘Carnotaurus’ ring a bell? The speed demon with the horns, main antagonist of Disney’s Dinosaur? Thank Ceratos for their existence.

Point is, Cerato was a success story and thrived just fine despite being surrounded by larger predators, and went on to become dinos like Carnotaurus, one of the fastest and most badass horned devil predators to exist. Because Cerato was nobody’s bitch.

Okie, rant over, I’mma continue watching the series now.

#dinosaurs #ceratosaurus #camp cretaceous #rodan #godzilla #got a bit heated... sorry #back to the kaiju content

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the-val-in-valhalla · 4 years

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I just want to get this off my chest in regards to the salty ass bullshit I witnessed tonight:

Please stop trying to "cancel" cishet people in fandom communities. Please stop.

Yes, it is problematic that some cishet people fetishize queer relationships, and yes it is valid to be frustrated and upset by that. But there is a difference between writing stories about characters who are queer and fetishizing characters who are queer. Please learn that difference.

Just because a story has sex in it and the characters are queer does NOT make it fetishistic. Now please follow along with me here, because this is key: IF YOU REGARD STORIES ABOUT QUEER CHARACTERS WHO HAPPEN TO HAVE SEX TO BE AUTOMATICALLY FETISHISTIC JUST BECAUSE A CISHET PERSON WROTE THEM, YOU ARE PUTTING THOSE QUEER CHARACTERS IN THE POSITION OF SEXUAL "SUBJECT" AS THOUGH IT IS NORMAL TO VIEW THEM THROUGH A LENS OF HETERONORMATIVE OBJECTIVITY. Let's please not other ourselves.

Let me repeat: please understand the difference between a person writing stories about queer characters in which eroticism is involved and a person writing the stories to make queer characters THE OBJECT OF HETEROSEXUAL FETISHISM.

Imagine how ridiculous it would be if a straight person told me I shouldn't write about straight characters. Because here's the thing: the reverse argument DOES apply to me. Some straight person could say to me "hey, you can't write an authentic male or female character because you believe that gender is inherently performative and socially constructed. You don't have the perspective of either a male or female person so you can't write about them." They could also say "hey, you can't write a love story because you're aromantic and you have no frame of reference for it." They could tell me "oh, you don't know what its like to experience sexual attraction the way an allosexual person does." They could say "well you're panlithrosexual- if you do experience sexual attraction, it happens regardless of your partner's gender. So you wouldn't know what its like to look at an opposite-gendered person and be unable to connect with them sexually."

All of these statements would be valid. But you know what? No one says that shit to me. And here's why. Now hang in here with me, because this is important: OUR ARTISTIC PRODUCTION, FANFICTION OR NOT, IS INEVITABILITY INFLUENCED BY OUR LIVED EXPERIENCES. And part of those lived experiences include interpersonal interactions with people of gender identities contrary to our own.

I may not experience romantic attraction, but that does NOT mean I can't write it authentically. Because I grew up with two allo friends who fell in love with each other folding fortune-tellers on our grammar school playground and have been in love ever since. I watched them survive together through hell after hell after hell, and I may not EXPERIENCE the same kind of love, but that doesn't mean I don't know what it is.

I may never look at another person and say to myself "she has just the right amount of muscle, or the sun catches in his hair just perfectly," but I know what the air feels like in the space between two people who want each other, because I have lived with two people who want each other.

When I write characters, I don't write agender, panaroace-spectrum carbon copies of myself. My lived experiences GO INTO those characters. I may have never cried over a breakup, but I've sobbed until I choked over losing a best friend. I won't even notice a person's gender when I meet them, but I'll notice the old Chuck hightops they hand-painted sunflowers onto, or the location of all their freckles, or whether they pick at their fingernails when they're nervous.

So when I write fanfic, some of my characters may look and act like me. But most of them won't. Most of my characters will fall in love the way my friends did, hard and stubbornly, bickering over each other one minute and sneaking off into the kitchen to make out the next. Most of my characters will have at least one gender. Most of my characters will want to fuck each other, and sometimes it will be because they're in love. I often write stories about characters whose identities are completely separate from my own.

I have said all that to say this: no one knows, unless we go and ask, what those individual characters mean to their authors, and no one knows where the inspiration for those characters came from.

Saying a cishet person can't understand what it is like to be queer is accurate. Saying a cishet person can't write a story about characters that are queer is not accurate. If queer people are part of a cishet author's lived experiences, then queer people belong in that cishet author's stories. Period.

You want more representation by queer authors? So does everyone else. Write some fic and throw it out there. When you find queer authors, go hype up their fics. Share that shit all over Tumblr. Start a fucking queer book club. Get shit done.

But gatekeeping cishet authors is not acceptable- your lived experiences don't take precedence over anyone else's. And as far as fetishism goes, when you see that shit, call it the fuck out. But understand that eroticism in stories with queer characters does not automatically imply fetishism. Learn the difference before jumping on people. Seriously.

And if you are a cishet person who has poured your heart into crafting a world for your characters because you love them, understand that what you have created is not fetishism, and you belong in this community. Please do not be discouraged by queer people who let their frustration with this heteronotmative world get misdirected at people who are genuinely living alongside them.

#gatekeeping #cishet #representation #gender identities #fanfiction #fandom #drarry

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arturas-writes · 3 years

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so I already have two different KotOR 2 fics running (one as a series, one as a multichapter doohickey) but a thought occurred to me today and now I really want to write it because I kind of love the potential even though usually I’m not fond of the concept

hear me out:

genderswapped Atton.

snarky, fast-shooting, ex-Sith assassin female Atton, who goes for the ribbed jacket and sensible shirts over V-necks because a) scars, b) warmth, c) protection and d) she’s enough of a flirt to (usually) get what she wants without having to resort to physical sex appeal

seeing the Exile for the first time and throwing all her best lines at him only to be stymied because no romance subplots he’s guilt-wracked, a bit freaked out over Kreia, super freaked out over hearing the Force again, and most importantly ace as hell

deciding to stick with him anyway because unrequited love he helped her and he’s interesting and easy on the eyes... then because the old witch breaks into her mind and, well, at least there’s a convenient excuse now

being jealous when the Handmaiden arrives and the Exile doesn’t kick her off the ship immediately and trying to chalk it up to protectiveness because the Handmaider is clearly a pawn of Atris. (things do not improve when she sees the Handmaiden doing exactly what she would being ridiculously forward with the Exile (who she knows doesn’t know better) during the Echani sparring sessions)

being more jealous when Visas arrives and the Exile saves her, like she isn’t the most obvious Dark Jedi this side of the galaxy (never mind he changes that, the way he changes everyone)

don’t even talk to her about Mira - that red-headed schutta is so obnoxiously unsubtle and so painfully non-violent it’s infuriating. where does she get off being all holier-than-thou when she turns people in for credits anyway?

(realistically she’s just projecting because knows she’s at the bottom of a deep pile despite the fact she was there first and she loves the hell out of that dumb Jedi more than anyone ever could, but when’s she ever been good at being honest with anyone, let alone herself?)

then That Conversation happens and - to her amazement - she’s not thrown off the ship immediately. there’s a gap between him finding out and agreeing to train her in the Force but even that only strengthens her resolve that she’s full ride or die for him even if he’ll never look at her the way she looks at him

slowly warming up to the others as light side points accrue adventures occur and it becomes evident that the Exile is just... dense when it comes to romance (because the idea that he might be ace never occurs to her - a guy not interested in sex? - but obliviousness is an easy answer, especially given the whole Jedi thing)

(though she never quite gets as close to Visas or Brianna as she does Mira, because no matter what she tells herself she’s still a bit jealous of them both. Mira, on the other hand, is blatant about her non-romantic-like of the Exile, is nearly as good a shot as Atton is, and apprehensive about the whole Jedi Padawan thing too)

(Mira never tells her about the conversation on Nar Shaddaa because stars, Atton’s crush is the most obvious thing in the world, and the Exile made it clear that though he is fond of her he isn’t going to do anything until he’s dealt with the Sith threat)

both the Handmaiden and Visas make their moves as the party heads into endgame. Atton doesn’t know how to respond when they’re both (politely, kindly, gently) turned down because on the one hand that might maybe, possibly mean she’s in with a chance but on the other, if he turned both of them down and he’s made no passes at Mira, how the hell does someone like her have even the slightest chance?

(it doesn’t matter. she made her choice on Peragus; she’ll always flirt and she’ll always love him have his back, no matter whether he feels the same or not)

Malachor V happens and hey, it’s not like she really gives a damn about herself much these days as long as the Exile’s safe so after the confrontation with Kreia goes south she books it. she runs into Sion and gets mauled to hell and back enabling dying declarations but (of course) ends up surviving because I am a sucker for that shit she’s an emotionally stunted dumbass who won’t tell her crush she loves him unless there’s no consequences when it goes badly (because it was never going to go well) but consequences Must Happen

post-game, there are awkward discussions and it turns out that that cute, dumb Jedi loves her too but figured a) saving the galaxy had to come first and b) she’d hard-pass him with the whole no-sex thing given how hard she was flirting with him (also a bit of c) he genuinely couldn’t tell how sincere she was being because he’s seen her flirt with so many people, dammit, how was he meant to know she actually meant it with him?)

conversations occur blah blah blah sickeningly cheesy and cliche happy ending because I write tragedy or cheese no inbetween of course

(alternatively she dies at Malachor but at least gets to know she did good, and that he knew she loved him, but happy ace/allo seems a lot more satisfying than Pure Angst(TM) and ace men don’t seem to get a lot of look-in as it is)

(alternatively-alternatively Exile is not ace but fulfils every cliche of “Jedi being blushing virgins” in the book, because I’m a sucker for subversion, but that seems a lil too obvious to be properly enjoyable to write.. and I have plenty of opportunities to play with/subvert the nervous-first-time crap in The Last to Know continuum anyway)

#oh look here's 1k words on a thing that will probably never actually be written #though I kind of really want to #even if it's just vignettes instead of an Actual Story #I wish I could draw because I feel like that would work so well for the little scenes in my head instead of word vomit #kotor 2 #atton #atton rand #atton x exile #au ramblings #writing

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corelliaxdreaming · 4 years

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@gffa put out a call for aro Star Wars fics, and I wanted to answer. It feels a bit selfish that they’re all gonna be self-recs, but if anyone’s going to appreciate them, right? I’ve relatively recently started identifying as aroace, and since I process e v e r y t h i n g through fic, I’ve been writing a ton of self-indulgent aspec stuff. Most of my stuff is for the Legends X-wing book series, but there’s some Jedi: Fallen Order, Alphabet Squadron, and Sequel Trilogy mixed in too. (I’ve got quite a few ace ones too, but I’ll just but the aro ones here.)

X-wing:

Coming Out (2,582 words) - grayro/aroflux Tycho/allo Wedge - Tycho wants to pursue a relationship with Wedge, but first there are some important things Wedge needs to understand about him.

The Last Minute (831 words) - aroallo Wes&aroallo Hobbie qpr - the “derpy werewolf au” - Being a struggling college student and a werewolf is hard, but luckily Hobbie has Wes to watch his back.

That Time of Month (709 words) - ace Wedge&arospec Tycho qpr - more derpy werewolf au - Asexual Wedge is uncomfortable with the things the cycle of being a werewolf does to his feelings.

The Possibility of Us (12,405 words) - aro Tycho&allo Wedge, starts with romantic feelings, ends as qpr - There's only one way to survive Hanahaki disease without having your love requited - the surgery that removes the invasive plant from your lungs but also takes away your ability to love romantically forever. As Tycho recovers and explores his new aromantic life, can there be a future for he and Wedge after all?

Jedi: Fallen Order/Alphabet Squadron:

Three Against the World (1,901 words) - aroace Cal&Wyl/Sonogari qpp (Wyl and Sonogari are in a romantic/sexual relationship, and Cal is qpp to both of them) - Cal is happy with his queerplatonic partners, Wyl and Sonogari, but sometimes the world's focus on romance is still hard to deal with.

Sequel Trilogy:

Tap Dance (474 words) - aro Rey - Aromantic Rey asks Finn to explain him ho his love for Poe feels.

Spectrum (524 words) - aroace Poe, arospec ace Finn - Poe explains aromanticism and asexuality to Finn. Some things sound familiar.

Got Your Back (858 words) - aroace Rey&gray aroace ofc qpr - Rey and her QPP discuss their orientations and how difficult it can be to know what you really want.

Being Loved, Being Cared For (655 words) - aroace Rey&same gray aroace ofc qpr - Rey has difficulty dealing with things after Exegol, but her QPP will always be there for her.

#holy HELL is Got Your Back thick with projection from a very specific part of my own identity hourney WOW #*journey #my fic #aro star wars club #katie's pride month posts

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livingasaghost · 4 years

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is this too personal? should it go on my private journal blog? maybe so. but i don’t fucking care.

listen i know to fall in love is like THE PEAK of the human experience (for some people, or at least that’s what the allo world has led me to believe) and i do in fact know it EXISTS like i know true love is real and it’s out there and people are living a fairytale where someone will stay married to you for like 30+ years and they will do ANYTHING you ask them too just bc they think you’re cool but like.........the fuck of it all is that i still believe romance isn’t meant for me

way back when i started this blog when i was but a dumb high school child i would always get pent up on line UGH ALAS NO ONE WILL LOVE ME I AM GROSS AND STUPID! (which like...valid) and i kept feeling shitty bc everyone was falling in love (none of those couples save the one shitty one survived that hellhole) and no boys would pay attention to me (me, a girl who stayed at home 90% of the time, did no extra curriculars outside of guitar lessons, and did not EVER interact with the boys in her classes unless forced to) and also i think i just hated myself (still valid sometimes) ...wait where was i going with this...OH YEAH i kept feeling sorry for myself bc NO ONE WOULD EVER LOVE ME and it felt like some huge travesty that no guy would ever tell me he thinks i’m special and beautiful and that he would do my laundry for me if i asked (the golden standard honestly). which like...in some ways, might be true. i do think true love is special and i think everyone deserves a shot at finding that, but i think it’s been cool to see my views on all this change over the past few years.

it’s not that i don’t believe in love. it’s not even that i believe i’m undeserving of it or that no man will ever find me attractive (bc honey i am GORGEOUS and i don’t CARE). like i think if i put myself out there and did try to go on dating apps or meet people at parties or go to bars i COULD do it. like i DID go on a date last year and that guy was VERY MUCH into me. and it was sweet. it was nice to have those nervous butterflies bc OMG WAIT YOU THINK IM CUTE??? NO WAY like yes that was nice! so clearly it can happen! it’s a thing! but like...i think i’ve become more exposed to that stuff and i’ve been in those situtations and i’ve realized that i am much more aroace than i thought. i still don’t think i’m aro, by any means, bc i genuinely love romance books (which means i like romance yes????? who’s to say) but like...man the idea of being IN A RELATIONSHIP...it’s weird man.

what’s odd is that up until like...2008/2009ish i don’t think i EVER was fantasizing about marriage/falling in love...at least not like that, not dramatically. i remember in 8th grade i went to oh lord it was a BIBLE STUDY OF ALL PLACES and the girls were like “so are you praying for your future husband????” and i was like uhhh what and then i SPIRALED SO HARD after that bc i was like FUCK I MIGHT HAVE A FUTURE HUSBAND!!! WOW!!!! A WEDDING IS SO PRETTY!!! I SHOULD HAVE THAT!! I GET TO HAVE THAT!! THE UNIVERSE/GOD OWES ME THAT!!!! I’M GONNA BE THAT!!!! and like the fuck of it all is that if i had never had that realization, had never seen bride wars or started a journal to my future husband (PLZ LAUGH BC IT’S THE SADDEST MOST HETERO THING I HAVE EVER DONE AND I HATE IT BUT I KEEP IT BC IT’S A JOURNAL OF THAT TIME OF MY LIFE) i don’t think i would have spiraled so much in high school fearing i’d end up alone. like sure when i started reading romance books i got sad too, but i don’t think i realized until that age that like...i was so invested in marriage? (yes we switched from love to married we’ll get to that - apparently it’s therapy time????) like i think i always assumed it’d happen for me bc doesn’t everyone get married and have kids? (my sweet summer child oh boy the brainwashing was deep) and it’s like.......fine. bc marriage is fine. love is fine and great whatever. (and i had a great marriage to learn from) but also...........all those expectations were pinned upon me when in actuality what i’m realizing now is that IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER!!!!!!

like i’ve been to a number of weddings now and i’ve seen friends get engaged, have breakups, fall headfirst in love and then fall out it just as quick, i’ve seen friends be single and have hook-ups and get married and have their heart broken and like....even though in my heart of hearts i know it’s worth it if you find it, i also know that i wouldn’t know how to handle it. like i’ve read books about it all, i’ve listened to the songs, hell i HAVE watched other people go through it all...but i still don’t know what mine would be. bc the fuck of it all is that 1) i rarely feel attraction to anyone, and i haven’t met someone i’ve been attracted to since 2010 (!!!!) 2) at the end of the day i don’t think i necessarily want a physical relationship (which is kind of half the reason people marry right?) and 3) i don’t think i can imagine myself being that intimate with another person.

is it possible? yes. maybe one day in another 10 years i’ll make another leap and i’ll be living somewhere like new york and i’ll meet some guy through a job or through travel or through some weird twist of fate and we DO hit it off and everything works out and suddenly i realize that i can only be comfortable with this ONE person and thus we take it slow and eventually get physical and get married and HOORAY ITS ALL FINE IM NORMAL and as it turns out the gut feeling i had at 16 was correct and i AM actually demisexual! could happen. i wouldn’t be totally shocked. but i also know that right now...it’s not a possibility. it would take a LOT for me to be in that place. and i think that’s the difference. ten years ago in high school i just assumed i was normal, i assumed if i got what i thought i wanted it’d all work out and be fine and i’d be happy bc I WAS IN LOVE. but the fuck of it all is that that first date i had? it was proof that you should be careful what you wish for. i don’t want a boy to kiss me. i don’t want a boy to hold my hand. i want someone to talk to, who likes what i like, who supports me and thinks i’m cool, who’ll buy me nice presents sometimes and see me for who i am and not run away. and honestly? i HAVE THAT. i have a few people like that actually.

what i realized was that what i ACTUALLY want, is for the butterfly feeling. that feeling you get where you’re like nervous bc the other person said they think you’re cute and they want to learn more about you and they’re interested in you and they SEE YOU and you feel the same way about them and you think they’re nice to look at and they think you’re nice to look at. that’s what i want. i want the butterflies. i want to be attracted to someone. i haven’t felt that in GOD so many FUCKING YEARS. i mean i feel that with fictional characters sure, but we all know that’s stupid and doesn’t count.

like i kid you not i’ve only been attracted to two (possibly 3, but i’m not counting the 3rd) people in my entire life. just two. (i don’t count the celebrities and characters and things although i guess if i did it’d be up to like 5-10 maybe) but like people i’ve met? two. that’s it. and it’s all so STUPID. bc it DOESN’T MATTER! like i feel weird being like LOVE ISN’T FOR ME I DON’T WANT IT! bc it feels like a lie and i do know i would like someone to fall in love with me. but genuinely, truly, i feel like a different person that the hopeless girl i was in 2010 bc...i don’t need it. i don’t know what i’d do with it. i don’t want someone to touch me.

the great thing about all this that i realized a long time ago is that this bitch is never going to have a bad heartbreak. and i know the saying better to have loved than never love at all.......but i do love. i love all the time so much that sometimes i can’t breathe. i just...don’t have that kind of love. and it’s okay. bc no one will EVER hurt me like that.

like i always said if i WAS going to fall in love it would happen ONCE like i will not be dating multiple people in my lifetime, hell i probably won’t even go on that many dates without finding THE PERSON bc in part i don’t put myself out there often, but mainly bc i KNOW people. i know myself, i know what i want, i have intuition about all that and i truly genuinely think that if i ever found it, it’d be that or nothing. bc i also think the person i’d be into would be similar. and i know people probably think that’s stupid and also there’s nothing wrong with dating a lot of people in your lifetime, in falling in love more than once, but like...i’m not that kind of person. i think part of me really does believe in soulmates, even if there is some level of free will in the world outside of determinism.

but because i feel like that, and bc of my very VERY private personality (who doesn’t let people in easily, who doesn’t care casually, who doesn’t give my heart away without protecting itself) i just don’t think i’d ever let myself...oh no here is a dark truth YIKES...i don’t think i’d ever let myself feel that deeply about someone.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

well this is an interesting thought

which is the PERFECT start to a romance novel i might add

like i feel a LOT don’t get me wrong. i may repress my emotions but ya girl has a lot of passion a lot of love a lot of feelings for things. and i do love some people A LOT. like friends mainly. i love them SO MUCH (too much) and the ones who are STILL my friends...i have learned how to let them live their lives. i love them desperately, they inevitably let me down or move or fall in love (jesus christ it’s the worst) or whatever, and then things shift and i tell myself “hey you know what? it’s okay, you’re clearly no longer the most important thing in their life, so you can just pull back and not invest so much in them bc clearly they want to invest in other things and that’s okay!!” and then i move all my affection to someone else who DOES want it at that time, and thus i let people go bc i give them the space i assume they need and then the space gets to big and we can’t overcome it bc i don’t know what i’m supposed to fight or go back or try again or whatever and then they don’t fight for me (maybe bc i didn’t fight first, maybe bc they just stopped caring about me) and then suddenly...it’s over and i’m sad but i’ve put so much distance between us that i don’t really feel anything anymore. like oh my god what the fuck

literally my heart’s self-destruct protocol is that when i notice someone slipping away and stop caring about me i just assume the worst and immediately stop caring about them and then they can’t really hurt me. so the ones who HAVE hurt me are the ones who directly called me out and lied to me or did something bad. most of the people i drifted from who i once ADORED really only stopped being close to me because i thought they didn’t want me around anymore and i didn’t want to be annoying. (or bc i pushed them away bc i didn’t want them but that’s another thing) so like truly i think it would have to be someone being MEAN to me out of nowhere bc otherwise i’d just be like “it’s cool, we grew apart, i’ll get over it” (which i dont believe someone who really loved me would do) ahhhhhhhhhhhh

...

so anyway we all know this is hypothetical and obviously i wouldn’t know how i’d genuinely react if i fell in love but we also know that i WON’T fall in love in the next 5-10 years (prove me wrong by tyler joseph) but it’s fucking VALENTINES DAY WEEK and literally this happens every year bc i try and convince myself that HEY! YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE IN LOVE DAMMIT! but then sometimes i think FUCK! I WANT TO BE IN LOVE DAMMIT! and it’s like honestly yeah mood....but they can coexist. i want to fall in love. i know i would not do well in a romantic relationship right now. i also know i deserve love, and i would be a great partner to someone. but i also know it’s all complicated and fucked up and difficult and i don’t meet people anyway and i wonder if my real partner is somewhere waiting in new york and and and and and and and i’m just so FUCKING SICK OF IT ALL!!!!!!! truly!!!!! i’m sick of feeling inadequate just bc i don’t want to kiss a boy. i’m sick of feeling obligated to fall into society’s romantic norms. i’m sick of waiting for someone to love me and treat me well when i have people who do that already. i’m sick of my friends falling in love, sick of people having their heart broke bc they fall for shitty people...i’m sick of shitty people breaking other people’s hearts for no reason. i’m sick of my awesome parents and their absolutely beautiful true love. i’m sick of being single. i’m sick of daydreaming about what it’d be like to be romantically attracted to someone. i’m sick of reading romance books and i’m sick of wishing i was in one. i’m sick of being asexual. i’m sick of allosexual people. i’m sick of watching people make out. i’m sick of my friends falling in love and then treating their friends like shit just bc they only care about their significant other. i’m sick of VALENTINES DAY!!! i’m sick of weddings!!!! i’m sick of conventional hetero norms!!!! i’m sick of love songs and dating apps and feeling like my worth is tied to someone loving me romantically. i’m sick of SEX OH MY GOD PLZ MAKE IT STOP!!!!!!!!!

i can’t believe my therapist tried to tell me that i would always be a little lonely if i never had a romantic/sexual partner. fuck that. you don’t need anything but your friends and your family and your own self love. god is big enough.

I’M NOT LONELY I JUST WANT PEOPLE TO SEE AND UNDERSTAND ME AND LOVE ME FOR WHO I AM!!!!!

...

just had a weird thought that i can never be an authentic christian bc half my friends aren’t christian so around them i act like christanity is a joke (in some ways it is?) but i also can’t be authentic around my christian friends bc some of the things they say i can’t fully stand behind either bc i am a secular person too and it’s just like WE REALLY CAN’T WIN HUH GOD!!!!! i love being unknowable!!!! at least i have laura shes the only person who understands both sides that’s nice

oh my god i get to hug laura the day after tomorrow

...

anyway.

can’t wait to be the random single family member who shows up at all the family gatherings while all my cousins get married and have kids! i finally have accepted that i get to live that dream and WOW IT FEELS GOOD!!!!!!

#love #marriage #asexuality #demisexuality #vday #why does vday even exist #im not even mad im just like......do we need it #i love capitalism #personal #sorry if you're on mobile just SCROLL PLZ

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confused-cryptids · 5 years

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I don’t know if anyone else feels this, but:

I’m aroace. When I think about my future I’m scared. Scared because what will my life be like? We’ve all been taught, as children, that when you grow up, your life will be like this: Get a job, get married, have kids, live as a family until you die. But that’s not an option for me. And I’m scared because what form will my life take? Allos know a structure which they can stick to, but me? I don’t know.

I’m adhd. When I think about my future I’m scared. Scared because I don’t even know how to plan ahead, or how to articulate myself efficiently and make plans and stick to them, and do work and not stare at a wall for half an hour. I don’t know how to do everything normal, neurotypical adults can do easily and I’m scared, because, how will I do everything I need to do to survive in a working place when I’m already finding it really hard to keep up with everything already, and I’m only just in Year 11?

I’m in Year 11. Still in secondary school. When I think about my future, I’m scared. Scared because I don’t know if I’ll even have a future when I’m old enough to make a difference, because the world and the environment is going to pieces and I can’t do anything because I’m not old enough. I can’t influence anyone because even when I do shout out, nobody hears me, because I’m just a schoolchild and adults still think I’m too young to have a proper opinion, and to understand. I’m scared for the world and my future in it, but I can’t do anything.

I live in the UK. When I think about my future, I’m scared. Scared because of Brexit and I don’t know if my future will be ok in a collapsing economy if we go out with or without a deal. I don’t know what anything will be like and I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m worried for my future and the future of our country and everyone in it.

I’m just scared about my future, and I don’t know if anybody feels this, but it hurts and I wish I could do something about it. But I can’t.

#future #aro #aromantic #ace #asexual #adhd #adhd things #brexit #climate change #aro things #help #ace things #remain #climate strike #environment #the climate #aroace #mental health #neurodivergent

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bonesandblood-sunandmoon · 4 years

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The Baggage of Love

CoA prompt for Dec 2019 - “Love” [Call for Submissions]. Under a cut due to length; there’s a few sections: Family, Friends, So-Called “Puppy Love”, Love is a Four-Letter Word, and “not gay as in happy, but queer as in i love you”. (Link to that quoted post is provided.)

Family

In terms of feeling (personal experience) and topic (impersonal), there’s an iceberg when approaching familial love (and the lack thereof). I don’t have the spoons for poking at the effects of our parents’ lives on us, divorce, growing up in an essentially single parent house, or the fragility of familial love, usually framed in terms of acceptance, around queer and trans identities. Other people have written about the popularity of the Found Family trope in queer fandom, intergenerational trauma, and all kinds of family stuff, and I am but a simple blogger. I do remember that it was first with my family that I was exposed to the concept of love and saying that I loved them, and when push comes to shove, it’s not uncommon for stories to default to parental love as an important element of a character’s story (‘at least their family will always be there for them’).

Familial love can be fraught with complications of our own parent-child or caretaker-child baggage (if grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. raised us), but I suspect there are some aros who would say that it’s a different flavor of love from what’s talked about in relation to aromanticism. The whole offspring thing is a whole ‘nother can of worms that could be a separate CoA prompt, but I can see child rearing being separate from the alloromantic relationship elevator in a way that isn’t incompatible with being aro, even if co-parenting is usually presented romantically in most media. (At least, off the top of my head, I associate it with ‘becoming a step-parent’ narratives, but that doesn’t mean non-romantic co-parenting isn’t out there.)

Friends

I know I’ve seen it cross my dash about not emphasizing platonic love over romantic love or over emphasizing friends as a means of ‘aros are still human’, but I didn’t save links for an idea of how discussions about prioritizing friendship have been happening. On the one hand, I can understand how uncomfortable and alienating this can be for aplatonic aros, but on the other hand, I spend most of my time in the allo-allo world with people who clearly prioritize romantic love over friendships, so it feels like I don’t actually experience very much prioritization of friendship. I don’t mean that the aro community shouldn’t be cautious of prioritizing platonic love and relationships. It’s more of a personal balancing act, but I’m not quite finding the right words for what I want to say right now.

(Aside: When I think of love that hasn’t been otherwise specified, I think of the middle school banter with some of my friends - something like a minor inconvenience leads to “I hate you” “Aw, I love you, too” - juxtaposed against feeling blindsided in high school that, apparently, I’m misleading others if I say ‘I love you’ to a friend. Unbeknownst to me, I was dating someone for about two or three months in 9th grade because of that. I think of wanting to tell someone that I was proud of them facing one of their fears during the course of that day’s work (“I love you for trying”). I think of reassuring friends that I care about them.)

When I think of just the word ‘love’, I think of an amorphous, unspecific feeling love that seems to reasonably include friendships. Some posts that were probably meant to stay personal/venting posts from aro bloggers use love to mean romance, but sometimes, that feels about as restrictive as allo-allo people assuming I must be dating a friend in order to say love. I may not feel as comfortable saying it out loud anymore, but I still love my friends in a way that’s hard to name or specify any further yet isn’t romantic.

So-Called “Puppy Love”

I feel like I’ve explained this before, but I have memories of crushes that have faded and become hard to translate to present/future perceptions. One of my past rounds of shadow work was specifically aimed at recovering from a crush on a friend ending our friendship, and I’ve always been embarrassed to talk about it, particularly as the final straw that set off one of my depressive episodes in high school. ~ One of those overperforming emos writing sad poetry about an unrequited crush? The emotional dysregulation of experiencing the first major heartbreak and becoming a depressed teen stereotype? ~ It was cringey before calling things cringey was a thing. (Also, please don’t go looking for my middle/high school era DA account where that’s been immortalized.)

In hindsight, I can recognize a whole bunch of comparatively minor crushes were probably more based on aesthetic attraction because they didn’t actually come with the same type of ‘butterflies’ and daydreaming about hypothetical futures. The crushes that were more substantial and had to be accommodated were more likely on friends, and it faired better to just wait out the feelings with no disclosure. I can think of at least one occasion where I was semi-aware that my crush was aesthetically based and I didn’t actually want to date him, but that awareness didn’t come along until undergrad. The last situation I definitely call a crush was in Sophomore year of undergrad and involved a friend, who in the past year found out about it and wasn’t upset or anything. (Shout out to friendship that can survive accidentally revealing that time I had a crush on her because she follows my tumblr.)

The Lightning Incident (as I so creatively refer to it) was this random, out of the blue event in my (I believe) Senior year of undergrad where my brain just kinda blanked, I felt internally giddy, and I just forgot how to speak while a cute girl I didn’t know was talking to me. Like, I just mentally shut down a bit and wandered away from the salad bar in a daze. For sheer experience on my end, I’m including it here, but I’ve still never been sure if it was a crush because my brain forgetting how to talk is incredibly counterproductive to interaction (and hasn’t happened before). I felt incredibly nervous talking to her during future conversations, but it didn’t quite feel the same as what I’ve experienced as a crush before. (I’m also 99% sure she never picked up on any of my internal weird feeling experiences and hasn’t found out since then, so yay me for keeping a lid on that.)

Love is a Four-Letter Word

Originally, I had something about hearing the line attributed to this section from a cartoon villain and the presentation of an inability to love in some form as a shortcut to villain coding planned, but then, in the midst of ‘pre-headache brain static’, I remembered a line from a post, “M is for the lack of madness | Called love that others see” (‘Aromantic’ acrostic poem). For a certain amount of aros, it’s probably just a relatable line, and they don’t necessarily give it much thought. I still haven’t been able to figure out how I feel about equating love to madness. On the one hand, there’s somewhat of a literary tradition, so it’s not exactly a new idea:

“Love is merely a madness and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do, and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love, too” (As You Like It, Act 3 scene 2, No Fear Shakespeare link).

On the other hand, I have complicated feelings around the idea because of my own mental health issues. But if a crush ended a friendship that was important to me in high school, and it was tied up with depression, doesn’t that make it sorta relatable? Maybe for someone else, but I wind up thinking about the ashamed teen who couldn’t explain what was wrong in such a way to be believed and get help because it was ‘just an unrequited crush I would outgrow quickly’, and the isolation of not being able to talk to anyone about a same-gender crush that didn’t help the depression. I may not have had to face homosexuality being listed as a paraphilia, sexual orientation disturbance, or other listing in the DSM, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was a supportive atmosphere to reach out to ‘trusted’ adults.

I don’t have the energy to poke at other relevant details around my mental health right now, but there’s a certain knee jerk reaction to feel uncomfortable with the implication that an element of a romantic, sexual, or otherwise specified orientation may get people called crazy. I know aros are usually trying to joke about alloromantics (punching up, as it were), and no one wants to disclaimer their posts for every little thing. It’s entirely possible I’m overthinking this, and it’s bumping up against other baggage (around gender therapy and not being ‘too mentally ill to be believed’, for example), but I would rather not have ‘love is madness’ be a thing that people try to fold into permanent aro infrastructure. (The use of ‘love’ to mean ‘romantic love’ might also cast too wide a net and people who use ‘love’ non-romantically might think they’re being included.) If someone wants to call me ‘mad’, I’ve got brain shenanigans and symptoms to use as justification instead.

“not gay as in happy, but queer as in i love you”

There’s something about the first half of this post [link] that seems suited for spoken word poetry, and I don’t know how to translate my feelings into a written reply or commentary. However, I want to end with this because it scratches a hopepunk itch, and since I’m wrapping up this post on New Year’s Eve 2019, I feel like I could use a little hope for 2020. Maybe love is a messy concept that’s broad and narrow, felt by everyone and felt by no one (depending on each definition), and carries only as much meaning as you give it. Maybe love has no inherent feeling that’s universal, and it’s all down to action and inaction, like radical kindness. (I don’t know.)

#My writing #aro spectrum #queer #mental health

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thebodyisnotanapology · 7 years

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The Cowardice of White Women: Learning to Resist

This article was originally published on louisaleontiades.com and is republished with permission.

Some questions you don’t expect to have to ask in your lifetime, let alone answer. But with the rise of Trumpian fascism, a question has consistently rattled around my white woman’s brain over the last weeks. At what point would I put my own life on the line for others? How oppressed do others have to become for me to risk my own survival?

Growing up in Britain, my notions of fighting for the resistance were informed by watching wartime parodies like Allo Allo where unwilling coward Rene Artois was roped into protecting refugees with comical accents, and recovering priceless artifacts–The Fallen Madonna (with the Big Boobies)–from the clutches of the slapstick Nazis. Some years later, I stopped laughing. Anne Frank’s diaries opened my heart as she gave voice to the persecuted, all the more poignant because I knew that she and many more like her had been killed.

Maybe it was then I first asked the question: would I risk my own life to protect the Anne Franks of this world? The answer was always yes. But hindsight is a flattering bedfellow. Even if I had understood the evil enormity of what was going on, would I have acted to save her life whilst risking my own? And will I now when push comes to shove?

We know the dark path of fascism and discrimination beyond a shadow of a doubt. Yet even with all our hard won foresight, some can scarcely believe it enough to fight against it. Many of us don’t want to believe it. Others believe that protesting peacefully is our best and only recourse. Token gestures of support, so-called allies remaining silent when confronted with hate speech, wait-and-see naysayers. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that those who have dear friends or are themselves persecuted for their race, gender, sexuality, or religion are more likely to resist or activate themselves earlier. Me? I’m a coward.

Yet despite my fear, I send money every month to my intersectional friends. I call out those who post hate and division on my twitter feed. I call in family and friends. I enter into spirited debates in forums. I force myself to read the papers. But my hands shake whilst doing all of this and my heartbeat goes into crazy overdrive. I am permanently hyperanxious. I am often emotionally beaten down simply by reading the newsfeed and whisky is my new best friend. Why?

Quite simply because fighting goes against who I am. I am a ‘fawner’. One of those whom if kidnapped would be highly susceptible to Stockholm syndrome. The good girl. The people pleaser. With powers of denial so inculcated in my upbringing, that I believe and perpetuate lies which are not of my own making. I have little access to my fight mechanism, because as a middle class white child I was brought up to kowtow to power or be outcast. Conflict or confrontation with those higher up the social scale than I risked rejection, abandonment and ignominy. My ability has afforded me enormous advantages in terms of social interaction and as a survival mechanism it has served me well in my society. But its usefulness is running out.

Yet when you have learned that the best, and almost exclusive way to survive is by diminishing yourself in order to support those in power–mainly white men–it is paralyzing and seemingly impossible to enter into the fray against them. To a greater or lesser extent you have acted as an object to please them for most of your life, how now can you be expected to act? This is the inadmissible and often unconscious conundrum that many white women face deep in their core.