#fuck now i AM writing stuff but in the tags instead stop

[variousqueerthings]

havin some overall Thots about ted lasso, but may wait until the finale next week to fully get them out there. nothing that i haven't seen being said about this season, which is that the pacing is very odd, and i remember being surprised way back when it was announced that it was going to be three seasons and not four. i do not fully believe that it was intended to be three in the way the creators have said. feels more like something out of necessity, than the best way to tell the story, which, i wouldn't have anything against that if that was the case, i fucking love the sense8 final movie for existing, although i know/one can see that it had to tie some very fast knots and drop a bunch of potential storylines -- this final season feels similar. id prefer a rushed ending to no ending at all, if that's the way the tv-landscape looks (and these days it really does look like that as we know).

i can see how they've gotten to the conclusions of multiple of the storylines, but the methods used to get there have been uneven. but that is interesting, may wanna poke at it some more after the final episode. overall this has been a pleasant journey to go on though. i feel very warmly about these characters and the ethos of the show.

#im watching ted lasso #ted lasso #as a watching experience ive very much enjoyed it -- it's one ive watched partially with friends + i love football #so im not feeling an intense emotion about this im just... im seeing it #even as i enjoy specific scenes - everything jamie/keeley/roy related - nate and beard in the hallway #all the football boys together scenes #all the playing scenes #which are the things i come back to the show for #id say the one upset there is that i had hoped for more focus on nate -- but he definitely needed another season imo #he wasnt done baking yet and they rushed it #the other two things are 1. wish there had been more focus on sam overall #2. im not convinced with how theyve portrayed football culture in this last season -- gone a tad off the deep end into too lovey dovey #i know thats part of the fantasy this show is trying to present -- but i dont think it needs to *solve* football and billionaire investors #and toxic masculinity and everything else that is bad within the microcosm of said football #it can keep its reach smaller imo and be more impactful for it #fuck now i AM writing stuff but in the tags instead stop

[gnashingwailing]

@fireflywritesgt ok i read your tag on ch21 and i took that as a personal challenge (and then while I was writing this you dropped ch22 and THEN 23 and murdered me. but i'm back now. so)

HELLO Ok fuck yeah hold on everybody take my hand. We’re theorizing about this chapter 🙏 spoilers thru ch23 below

Re: the tag: dare I hope the next story will be set in a similar time/place… i MUST ADMIT despite the significant broader cultural stigma of such a thing. I have often contemplated. Harry and Joe helping with providing socialized miniature healthcare 😭 (maybe to wherever Lorraine lives[?] or knows of?) and when I heard mention of a Tiny Town Hospital… one must wonder how this compares to a Giant Hospital, or to the barber surgeon dens that Joe has presumably had some frostbitten toes cut off at.

OTHER THINGS I’M SPECULATING ABOUT: “certainly, bandits were a problem a borrower occasionally had to face” 🤔 damn that's rough. I do love the sense that there are few overarching cultural norms, whether it's around marriage or language or so on. Everybody is kinda doing their own thing (including robbing each other oof).

I am also VEEEERRY curious about the implications of WHATEVER the tinies that are working in Tiny Town are doing. What kind of mechanized thing could be profitable from a lot of little guys pressing buttons? Or is it maybe not something physical they’re producing? Is it instead a research project? Some attempt at “civilizing” the tiny society for giant colonialism reasons? There’s got to be some kind of output here that is valuable to some kind of giant, but I’m still mystified at what it will be. “Joe wanted to ask him about the four armed giants who stood outside of Tiny Town” YEAH MAN ME TOO‼️ <- secretly delighted this is still coming up because I want to know what it means QUITE BADLY

Joe lamenting that there don't seem to be any libraries, or restaurants, or speakeasies, or any mark of ... art or entertainment? In Tiny Town? I REALLY HOPE Joe and Harry get over themselves and kiss soon so they can TALK ABOUT HOW FUCKING WEIRD THIS PLACE IS???? It made me INSAAANE THAT JOE JUST BRUSHED OFF TALKING ABOUT IT AT ALL 😭 JOE TO HAVE THOSE THINGS. PEOPLE HAVE TO WORK AT THEM. ARE ALL THE PEOPLE IN TINY TOWN JUST WORKING ON PUSHING BUTTONS??? JOE PLS

“Expecting handouts from the bloody giants…” sooo fascinating to hear him voice this, since this whole project is a handout in the absolute best case scenario (given that scraps are worthless to giants), although likely closer to a prison, as Professor Hill called it. Still patiently waiting for his smart and cool wife to explain things to me <3

I hope Joe will deign to really talk about what happened to him… GURL go process it with ur beautiful best friend!! Let him hold you and comfort you and tell you you’re literally so smart and correct and everything you’re saying about ditching the buttons part entirely is literally so beautiful and true!!! Go rock his world with your insights king!!!

Also lmfao Joe is definitely not Irish bcuz his Irish Goodbyes need some SERIOUS work. King of just literally running off when he’s not feeling a conversation anymore.

Me 🤝Joe <- autistically just leaving

He does this so often and it makes me cackle every time. Wait hold on those great meme posts make me want to make a JUST WALK OUT! One.

Absolutely loving the tension of it all… the reveal that Joe was doing watchmaking when he was TWELVE, meaning (if I'm keeping track of time correctly) he got snatched right after he was ABANDONED BY HIS ONLY FAMILY IN THE WORLD, was so artfully done. I had to stop in my tracks and think at the “he’d known O’Grady longer in his life than he hadn’t” and do math and be like “oh fuck.” Maybe this was teased prior and I didn’t pick up on it, but it hit HARD. For some reason I hadn’t assumed he was a kid — but why wouldn’t he be? If little kids are already doing things like crawling into discarded beer bottles. Fuck, Warren, heartbreaking stuff. Bravo. Of course Joe would be as dedicated to going and seeing him as he was Harry in the hospital. He cares so deeply about everyone, but especially his friends. It’s too bad O’Grady is no longer in a place to reciprocate the love Joe gives !!! But of course Joe still would not be ready to throw away the boot knife O’Grady made for him… “a decision that would forever change Joe’s life” btw I can hear ur evil hehe from here. :)

Also btw THIS little detail is one of those things that makes rereading your story so delightful: “They invade our end of the city, take our jobs, show up at our bar… did we invite them? No.” O’Grady was practically ranting. “And when we politely tell them to leave, what do they do?” O’Grady pointed to his bandaged head. “Watch out for them once you get here. They’re not good Irishmen like you and me, Joe.” juxtaposed with the actual breaking news we heard from the radio ? "“AN IRISHMAN AND AN ITALIAN ARE IN THE HOSPITAL AFTER A MASS BRAWL OUTSIDE A BAR ENDED IN A CRACKED SKULL AND A STABBING. NEITHER OF ‘EM HAVE BEEN IDENTIFIED YET.”" a fucking STABBING = "politely tell them to leave"? What kinds of things has Joe's friend gotten used to excusing?

And of course I love the moments of solidarity within the tragedy of the newly realized (or at least newly stoked) xenophobia between borrowers. Joe being reminded of how his parents spoke, and how his brother shooed him off, in the gestures of a stranger… you really do a great job of evoking the ways we are all connected to each other. His family is gone, but he still sees them everywhere he looks. [pacing my enclosure and being sooo normal about how Joe has purposefully isolated for a decade and yet cannot help but see the beauty and humanity of his fellow man whether tiny or giant bcuz despite thinking he’s wired wrong, he’s actually wired like all of us who have felt that way for our unusual proclivities. He’s wired for connection with his fellow man. And he’s so wired for it u can feel how much it hurts his heart. Haha I’m sooooo .] The older guy was trying to warn him off crossing a white line into the “Irish ward”, too, right? The gesture was a kindness. And speaking of, does that mean the little tunnel somebody dug is to the Irish district? Or was I turned around and it was the Italian one? Either way — who would be trying to get in here, and why? Maybe it’s just a desperate person, but O’Grady talking about how bad it’d be if they saw Joe, and the need for an ID, makes me think it’s not someplace you can sneak into and integrate with. Just makes me curious as to whether it’ll come up again!!

THIS is also something I'm wondering about -- could the 'output' of Tiny Town maybe be researching, like... ethnonationalism? In the wake of WWI? Those drawn lines separating different 'wards'... do we think Tinies came up with this shit on their own? I doubt it, if someone like Dawson who is immediately assigning people nationalities that we know from Calloway's nobody "normal" in borrower society knows/cares about. HMMMmmmmMMMMM. I'm still reaaaaally curious how much Hill knows about this place and what hand, if any, he had in it. ONCE AGAIN, boys get kissing so you can also get TALKING. I think Harry would have much to say about how pointless it is to hate individuals from other nationalities after everything he saw during the war. Or so I assume, given he had no bad reaction to Joe being Italian.

AND WELL THIS IS LESS THEORYCRAFTING AND MORE “ME WANTING TO WRITE MORE FANFIC ABOUT THEM” BUT I WAS SOOO DELIGHTED THE CHAPTER DIDN’T END WITH HIM LEAVING TINY TOWN AND WE INSTEAD GOT DRESS REHEARSAL 2 OF HARRY AND JOE GETTING SO FUCKING DOWN BAD FOR EACH OTHER AT THE WINDOW & IN THE BEDROOM. YIPPEEEEE <- this was written before ch22 lol pictures taken moments before disaster

“Joe fidgeted for a moment as he fought with himself over whether or not to say what he really wanted to say.” … did you say what you really wanted to, there, pal? 🤨

I'm sooooo glad Joe's books are making more and more appearances... much like Harry I'm endlessly delighted by his culture. I wanna know what shaped his romantic fantasies!!

""Yeah, the ending on this one isn't great. They're cowards. Could've at least said they loved each other." Joe said.

He closed the book and snuggled into the crook of Harry's neck." <- Lmao @ these two guys so allergic to talking about their feelings shit-talking the romance book protagonists while they're literally cuddling in bed and not acknowledging it

Did he own these books when he was a kid? I imagine so, but on the other hand? HEY HOLY SHIT I REALIZED AFTER CH23 SOMETHING I SUSPECTED BUT COULDN'T CONFIRM: if homophobia isn't something borrowers have. Is one of these romance novels Joe owns going to be between two men? Harry is going to get his fuckin world rocked. Him and Georgie stole books from the library before, but I doubt they found any gay romance stuff (still impossible for baby-gay-Gnash to find that almost 100 years later in their rural libraries, lol.) Would this be Harry's first exposure to something like that? Wahhh... hurry up and open up to each other again you need to talk culture ASAP...

I'm also very curious if borrowers would have more taboo novels of their own, particularly giant/tiny stuff. And would Joe have come across any of it? I imagine it'd be extremely difficult to sell things like that without a beating, but maybe in bigger night markets -- and Joe said he's been in lots of very big cities... if his third novel is some really salacious g/t writing that would do numbers here on tumblr dot com I'm going to lose my god damn mind.

#once again. it would be a war crime to try putting this in your inbox. also other people seemed to enjoy it last time. #take my hand fellow TAoLaW enthusiasts. let's make incorrect guesses about where things are heading... together <3 #thanks for the wonderful fic Warren!! it's taking over my brain!!!

[seidenbros]

Hey Love! Could you write a little something about yn getting pregnant by Eddie and only finding out three weeks after they broke up and then them getting back together?🥰

Hello my love! Ahhh this is such an angsty and sweet request, and I immediately had this in my head, so I had to write it down today, instead of doing something else (everything else could wait apparently). So I hope you enjoy this, I promise a happy end!

Requests are open | prompt lists for inspiration | Stranger Things Masterlist

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader Word count: 3k something Warning/Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, nausea/morning sickness, fluff in the end (let me know if I missed something Read on AO3

Follow Your Dreams, They Know the Way

“If you want to leave so badly, then go!”

“That’s not what I said!”

You’d been together for more than a year, even before you’d ended up in class together because Eddie had to repeat his last year. You’d always talked about graduating together, about building a life together after school, even though you hadn’t known where you’d end up, but both of you had agreed to leave Hawkins as soon as possible, get away from all these judgemental people, who talked about Eddie as a freak.

But Eddie hadn’t graduated with you. It had looked promising, and you’d tried your best to help him, had studied with him. Deep down he knew most of the stuff anyway, but there were just some things he couldn’t get into his head. In addition, he’d been nervous about the last tests, because he hadn’t wanted to fuck it up. Maybe, it had been that nervousness that had made him fail the tests.

It had put a damper on your relationship. Not that you were blaming him, but Eddie was blaming himself. You hadn’t made any concrete plans, hadn’t talked about where you wanted to go to university or if you’d end up studying at all, but you’d always wanted to get out as soon as possible. And now you were stuck here for another year - his words not yours.

What was one more year? Maybe, it was actually good in the end, because you’d be able to work full-time, put some money aside, but of course you’d also looked at universities. Universities that weren’t too far away of course, but you’d gotten some pamphlets and whatnot to read up on the different places, on the courses they had, because you still weren’t sure what you wanted to do, so that extra year you now had to think about it, was good for you.

But Eddie… Oh Eddie freaked out when he found the pamphlets in your bag. You were at his trailer, ready to make some dinner for the two of you, since Wayne was at work already, when you told him that you had a tape for him in your bag. One you’d made for him as a little present, a little encouragement after he’d been down for the last few days. It was the first one you’d made for him after you’d gotten one from him at least once a month, so you were rather excited to give it to him - only that he came back with the brochures in hand and asked you about them.

“What’s this?”

“It’s just some brochures. I got them to read up on the universities around here.”

“So you want to leave?”

“No? I’m just getting information.”

“Sure…” he put them down on the kitchen counter and turned his back to you, heading for his bedroom. He was mad. By now, you knew him well enough, knew that he rather left you standing there instead of having this discussion with you. Whenever he was mad, really mad, he opened his mouth before he really thought about his words. But leaving you standing there with this kind of reaction was something you weren’t in the mood for right now. You hadn’t come here to spend the night with Eddie sulking in his corner, because he didn’t speak his mind.

With a sigh you put down the knife, wiped your hands on a towel and followed him.

“I am!” you said firmly, stopping in the door to watch him. He’d grabbed his guitar and was lounging on the bed, his fingers gliding over the strings while he tuned his sweetheart. “What is so wrong about checking out my options?”

“Options?” He looked up at you shaking his head. “That’s what you call it?”

“Of course! We talked about this, but for the future, I’m just checking it out. There’s a couple universities not too far away from here, so I’m looking them up and might go and look at them.”

“If you want to leave so badly, then go!” Eddie’s voice was louder, angry, and you’d never heard him like that.

“That’s not what I said,” you tried to reason with him, it was just something you needed to talk about. You wanted to be honest with him, and you expected the same from him as well. It wasn’t like you were going off to uni any time soon, you were just thinking ahead especially because you didn’t know what you wanted to do with your life.

“I know how this ends…” You’d take a look and you’d never come back. People didn’t stick around when it came to him except for a few exceptions. He had no idea how he’d managed to have you by his side, and he marvelled at the fact every day. You certainly deserved better than him in his opinion, and maybe you were realising that now as well. “I’m not holding you back.”

“Eddie, what the fuck are you talking about?” An exasperated sigh left your lips, your eyes still on him, on the tension in his shoulders. He was exuding anger, but in reality it was more pain and fear than anything else, but you couldn’t tell the difference right now with your heart pretty much banging against your ribs because of his words.

“Go!” he said firmly, raised his head to look at you again. “Get out of here, out of Hawkins. I’m not keeping you here. Go and live your best fucking life!”

“You’re not being serious…” You took a step back, grabbed onto the doorframe, because you couldn’t believe your ears. You didn’t want to leave Hawkins without him, didn’t want to leave him, because you loved this man with all your heart.

“Yes I am.” Eddie swallowed heart, dropped his gaze back down to his guitar so that he wouldn’t have to look in your eyes again, see the pain reflected in them, because it pained him as well. But he didn’t want to be the reason you stayed here, when there was so much more waiting for you out there. “Go.”

“Eddie, this is-”

“I said go! We’re done!” Eddie pressed his lips together, eyes downcast, but he still heard the sob that escaped your throat when you turned around and ran out of the trailer.

—

Three weeks had passed, and you still missed him, played the conversation over and over in your head. At least you didn’t have your parents around this week, because they were on vacation. They’d asked you to come along when they’d planned the trip, but back then you’d wanted to spend that time with Eddie. Nobody would have guessed that he’d dump you, not with how happy you’d been - up until that evening.

It was actually quite nice to be alone at home, or at least without your parents, because your friend Robin had been spending quite some time with you. For a couple of days you hadn’t been well, and not just because of a broken heart. You’d been throwing up repeatedly, not able to keep anything in you that long, so Robin had taken it upon herself to take care of you, make sure that you drank enough and rested well.

“Y/N, do you think… could you maybe be pregnant?” Robin hadn’t wanted to bring that up, but after three mornings of you throwing up again and again, she’d tried to find a pattern, but you’d always eaten something different, so she was pretty sure that it wasn’t due to the food. And you’d also stayed clear of alcohol, so that wasn’t an option as well.

“I don’t think so.” No… no you couldn’t be. You’d always used protection.

“Are you really sure? When was your last period?” Robin didn’t want to scare or upset you, but she wanted to find out what was going on with you, wanted to help.

“I…” Oh God, you really had to think back, but… “When we watched that movie together at the cinema… I can’t remember the name… the one you insisted we should watch, which turned out to be horrible.” Robin had said that herself, after she’d trusted the opinion of a friend.

“Y/N… that was more than two months ago.”

You both exchanged glances, while the realisation hit you that she might be right. That was already enough to make you panick, but not only that. You quickly got up and paid the bathroom another visit, while Robin gathered her belongings.

“I’ll just go and get a test, arlight? You stay here.”

Where else would you go? Your knees were so weak by now, that it was hard to get back on your feet. So instead, you leaned your back against the bathtub, pulled your knees up to your chest and hugged them to your own body.

You weren’t sure how much time passed until Robin was standing in front of you again, but you were still in that same position. With some encouragement from your friend, you finally took the test. Waiting for the result felt like ages, but when the two lines appeared on it, you didn’t know what to say.

“Um… looks like you’re gonna be a Mum,” Robin said, wrapping her arm around your waist to pull you against her side. “You’re not alone, you hear me?” Her reassurance helped a little bit, but you were still completely overwhelmed and couldn’t stop the tears from falling down.

Robin carefully guided you back to your bedroom so that you could sit down on the bed.

“I have to tell Eddie.” Of course, your first thoughts were with him again. You’d talked about a future together and while you’d never talked about the when and how, both of you had always said that you wanted children in the future. That Eddie would be the man his father never was, that he’d give his kids everything they needed in life, just like Wayne had given him everything he’d been capable of. Eddie would forever be grateful for Wayne, and so would you.

“While I agree,” Robin started, took your hand between hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, “You won’t do that right now. Let that sink in for a moment and think about what you want, okay?” You slowly nodded. She was right of course. You needed to think about how to break the news to him - and your parents once they came back, but until then, you still had quite some time. “Do you… Do you know already if you want to keep it?”

“Yes!” You didn’t even have to think about it. Even if Eddie wouldn’t want anything to do with you or that baby, you wanted to keep it. It wouldn’t be easy that was for sure, but when was life ever easy?

“Okay, good. Just hope you’ll make me their godmother.”

Oh you would, without a doubt. Robin would be the best godmother, you were sure of it.

—

Three more days passed and you’d managed to get an appointment with your OB-GYN, who confirmed your pregnancy and told you that everything looked good, there was no need to worry. It was a huge relief, but what flooded you with love was the ultrasound picture you were holding in your hand now. You already loved this little bean, even if you had to raise them alone in the end because Eddie didn’t want to see you. But you had to let him know, let him make that decision for himself.

You put the picture in the back pocket of your denim overalls as you got out of the car. All your normal jeans were a little tight by now, but the overall was quite comfortable. You’d cut off the legs so that it was suitable for the warm weather, and you felt comfortable, cute even. Things you focused on when you knocked at the door of Eddie’s trailer, so that your heart wouldn’t beat out of your chest.

“What is… oh.” Eddie’s eyes landed on you after he’d opened the door, clearly not expecting you. His whole face softened when he looked at you, and he kept himself from pulling you against his chest, because he’d missed you like crazy. He’d behaved like an asshole, he knew that, but he hadn’t wanted to be the reason for you to stay here and put your dreams on hold, even though he didn’t really know what your dreams were, he’d just assumed that you wanted to go. Eddie really had no idea that he was your dream, a life with him no matter where.

“Hi,” you managed, swallowed against the lump in your throat, because seeing him brought back all kinds of emotions, but most of all longing. “Do you have a moment? There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

Your words were laced with emotion, nervousness, fear, pain, but also hope. Even if Eddie had something to do, he’d put everything on hold. He asked you to come in, but you suggested sitting down on the benches, because the fresh air was good for you. After getting up, you’d felt nauseous, but so far, you’d been doing alright.

“Eddie, I-”

“I missed you,” he cut you off, and while it wasn’t the appropriate thing to do, he still needed to get these words out, before you started to tell him whatever it was you wanted to say. “I really did. I missed your smile, I missed wrapping my arms around you… I missed pressing my nose against the back of your neck when you sleep.”

“What?” he threw you off with that, but your words didn’t stop him from talking.

“I missed talking to you about the most stupid things, or starting a dicussion about which ice cream flavour is the best.” Eddie shook his head and sighed. He’d been so stupid, thinking that he’d be able to manage without you. He needed you to be whole. “I missed all of you, even the arguments, though I can do without them for a while.”

You weren’t able to hold the tears in, but tried your best to wipe them away before they fell. Needless to say, you failed, and when Eddie heard you sniffle, he turned towards you.

“And no I’ve made you cry.”

“It’s… hormones I guess.” Mixed with his words that touched your heart and made you want to crawl into his lap and not let go of him for at least a week.

“Hormones?” he questioned, and while he wanted to give you your space, the urge to comfort you was bigger. So he gently pulled you into his lap, placed his hand on your thigh and rubbed his palm over  the exposed skin, knowing that it would give you some comfort. It always had, so he hoped that it still worked.

And it did. The tears slowly stopped, but the nervousness returned all of a sudden.

“Yeah hormones,” you said again, taking a deep breath. “I came here because there is something I need to tell you, and I don’t know how you’ll react, especially after you broke up with me.”

“Yeah about that… It was stupid, I was stupid.”

“Before you say anything else please… let me finish.” While your heart burst at his words, because you’d hoped that you could just forget about everything and pick up where you’d left off, you still needed to tell him what was going on, and you weren’t sure whether it would change anything or not. “I’m pregnant.” There, the words were out, and you felt him tense beneath you. You wriggled around on his lap so that you could take the ultrasound picture out and hand it to him. “I got this today.”

Eddie stared at the picture for a moment, before he reached for it with trembling fingers. His other hand remained firmly on your thigh, grabbing it a little tighter than before. You watched his every reaction, as his eyes scanned the picture, ring-clad fingers carefully holding it like it was his most prized possession.

“You’re telling me… this is our baby?” Ever so slowly, Eddie looked up from the picture right into your eyes.

“Yes…”

Without a warning, his lips were on yours. Soft, but also demanding, while he still held onto the picture. You were caught by surprise, but immediately melted against him. You’d missed him so much, hadn’t thought you’d find yourself in his arms again, but here you were, clinging onto him, pouring all your love for him into this kiss, because you never wanted to lose him again.

“I’m so sorry��� about everything,” he mumbled against your lips. “I was an asshole, but I just wanted you to follow your dreams and not be stuck here because of me.”

“Silly boy…” You sighed against his lips, but straightened up a little bit. You framed his face with your hands, ran your thumbs over his cheeks, a smile on your lips. “You’re my dream. I want to be with you, no matter where. I’d never leave without you.”

“Should've known.” Eddie turned his head so that he could place a kiss against your palm. He put the ultrasound picture in his own pocket, so that he could keep it safe. “I love you, I haven’t said that often enough.”

“I love you, too,” you said and kissed him again, before you laid your forehead against his, savouring the moment. You’d been so scared, so nervous to come here and talk to him, but now you found that it was the best decision, because that had brought you back together.

“We’re really having a baby, huh?” Eddie wrapped one arm around you, but placed the other hand on your stomach. You immediately put your hand on top of his.

“Sure looks like it. Are you okay?” You’d had a few days to get accustomed to the thought of having a baby, but you were still a little nervous. Eddie had just heard the news and still had a lot to digest.

“I’m scared shitless to be honest.” He let out a nervous laugh and shook his head. “I’m scared that I’ll fuck up like my parent did and that I won’t be a good dad…”

“You’ll do great, Eddie.” You cupped his cheek, made him look up at you. “You know how not to raise a child because of your parents, but you also have Wayne, and he did a pretty damn good job with you.” “Yeah… he’s the best.”

“I’m scared too, but… I’m also happy.”

“Yeah… me too.” he took a deep breath, a smile on his lips, before he looked down at your stomach. “We’ll manage, won’t we, little one?”

And you would. You knew that you would, because you loved each other, and you already loved this baby.

Tag-list: @violetpenguinkris @tellhound @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @spideyanakin-interacts @bellamy-barnes @beepisbeep @snapefiction @hardysbitch

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series, or Eddie stuff in general 💚 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #staffi writes #I love getting requests like this one

[drbased]

I am sickened by your symbolic state posts because at the moment I’m still living at home, a place that is generally unpleasant for me. I’ve been living in a near permanent state of maladaptive daydreaming since I was a young teenager and its only this year, with moving out on the horizon, that I’m trying to move from my head into reality again. It’s difficult and I don’t exactly know how to live 😂 like with your video game post especially. I don’t know how to live in the moment by following urges. I think: I want to write later, but I don’t plan what I’m to write. Instead of following the urge to do one certain thing I seek out a mindset for the future and then never get around to it. I’ve bought countless items, like necklaces with symbols or woven bracelets, allways promisimg myself that they will be special and lifechanging only for them to be empty. How do I get out of this? How do I stop myself from turning my life into feeings instead of actions?

(if you’ve given a similar answer I apologise. I’m scrolling through your symbolic state tag rn)

So, I've been having a hard time responding to this one. I still haven't been able to finish this post in a way I'm happy with but I really do want to respond so I'm going to have to keep my answer short and hope that I can produce something more valuable at a later date. But anon, your message has really stuck with me. Here's the answer I started writing some time ago:

How do I stop myself from turning my life into feelings instead of actions?

People keep summing this stuff up better than I can and it's driving me slightly insane; all younger me wanted was to be Known and now I have random anonymous strangers I've never met reaching into my fucking Soul like how is this possible. first the yearning anon and now this.

So the Bad, Irresponsible answer is to do what I did, which is sit in a room and hotbox it and ask myself questions and wait till my brain answers them. Weed is what allowed me to blow this whole thing wide open for me. But now I don't do weed anymore I can say that you achieve Inner Peace(TM) the 'hard' way just as well - but dear god with or without drugs this IS A PROCESS. And it HAS to be a process, because there is only process, no destination. After all, there is no 'you' in the future - there is only the reality of now, and the reality of 'you' in the now, and that is what is awe-inspiring and beautiful.

The entire process of re-engaging with reality has so many interconnected parts and requires so much analogy and explanation that I have been seriously considering writing a book about it. I struggle with PDA (pathological demand avoidance), and I believe it and depression are all wrapped up in my symbolic mindset. But since I don't have any background in clinical psychology I would feel like a hack writing a self-help book. So I'm probably going to end up talking about it here, instead. And maybe one day collate it all into some sort of book or series of essays.

The core of all of this is acceptance. Defining acceptance is hard; I best describe it as wanting to, say, move your arm - the moment you've wanted it sufficiently, the moment it has happened. There is minimal causal relationship between wanting it and it happening - sufficient want becomes action, necessarily. That sufficient want becomes action is something I learned to recognise during this process - the symbolic mindset is disengaging with the mundane reality of cause-and-effect such that said cause-and-effect is re-evaluated with a narrative structure instead, utilising symbols to generate meaning with an agenda in mind. So returning to reality has to involve strengthening the relationship between cause-and-effect, and the most sustainable way to achieve this is to recognise what you want moment-to-moment, and then immediately do the thing.

So, I refer to this really irritating (complimentary) comic:

When you struggle to do things for mind-based reasons, the claim 'it't not that simple' comes from a place of being unable to recognise that part of you doesn't want to do it. And this is where the acceptance comes in: being able to recognise yourself as messy, imperfect, finite, human, and a product of your environment - instead of a glorious, infinite source of potential - will result in you feeling less fragile, more complete, and less reliant on symbols to drive a narrative about yourself so you can feel comfortable with existence. Acceptance of yourself and your wants will result in more authentic actions, which will result in less of a need for everything to 'go right'.

The process of acceptance is something that happens within you, and you will feel it when it happens: acceptance is when something goes from simply being theoretically true (I can state that I am wearing blue trousers) to being something I believe (I know that I am wearing blue trousers). Said acceptance is much less fragile, because my belief of the colour of my trousers is something I no longer need to be true - if someone says my trousers are red, I can say 'oh, they probably are' and I can look down at them and make another judgment. If they're red, I don't panic, because when I believed they were blue, that was an innocent belief that came out of my flawed human mind. I am, in short allowed to make decisions, I am allowed to believe things, to think things, without them needing to be correct, without them needing to be more correct than the reality in which I exist - the reality that came before me, and will exist regardless of my ability to percieve it, Descartes be damned.

If you want to write, but find yourself unable to write, you might have to confront something embarrassing about yourself: that you don't, actually, want to do the process of writing; instead, you want to have written something. But believing of yourself as a conduit to, and obstacle in the way of, achievement, posits said achievement as a metaphysical construct of greater importance than the literal reality of how many hours you sacrificed for said achievement. There's both a humility and a sense of responsibility in all of this: you're the one who generates meaning and feels the feelings, so you must prioritise yourself over some percieved obligation to 'the universe' - your achievements are your own and do not exist in the ether first. But reality itself exists first, and you must engage with the physical world in order to strengthen that causal relationship. There was a post I read a while back about how if you're struggling with gender dysphoria, then exercise can really help - this works because it operates under the same principle that without a natural interaction with cause-and-effect, the brain constructs a narrative to fill in the gaps, kind of like phantom-limb syndrome.

The realisation 'it is that simple' comes from the moment of acceptance. The moment 'it is that simple' is the moment you understand that writing a book is the same as moving your arm - if you want it enough, you will do it. There are many things that you may want *in theory* - but those are infinite, metaphysical, symbolic. There is only the reality of who you are and what you experience, moment-to-moment. Until you go and make that sandwich, your hunger isn't even proof that you need to eat anything. You show your depth of self through directly interacting with the real world, whatever form that takes. Symbolic thinking is what happens when you stop interacting with the real world, including the reality of your own selfhood, and the result dissatisfaction will have you sunk-cost-style retreating further and further back. Breaking out of it is hard but it's all a testament to just how much what we want is who we are.

I've barely scraped the surface here of what it takes to do all this - but this is the fundamental basis of the principle that I developed and still use to this day. It's the principle I used that got me starting to write on tumblr - instead of pathologising my desire to analyse, I decided to start getting my thoughts out into the world. Instead of waiting till I can achieve a known symbol of completion - instead of writing a book - I decided to engage in a much more immediate form of writing by directly writing out, with zero plan, what I think and publishing it instantly to the world. Because of this, my thoughts have ceased to exist as some testament to my big-brained genius - and will vanish along with me when I die - and representative of my fragile ego, but rather something I use to directly engage with other in the material space. My ideas now generate meaning because of their relationship with reality, not in spite of it. And it's infinitely more satisfying.

#my writing #wisdom posting #symbolic states #anon

[aerodaltonimperial]

✨Fic Writing Review 2023✨

Tagged by @rosabellebelieve and oh girl. Ain't nobody ready for these stats LOL. Uh oh. Also, I've removed all collab fics for purposes of this, as it doesn't really seem fair since I only wrote, like, half of them lmao.

Words and Fics

268,626 words in 2023 (mother of god)

52 fics on AO3 (dear christ)

I'm not even counting Tumblr ficlets, oh god, don't make me

Top 5 Pairings

💚🖤Jack/Darby (24) (NUMBER ONE???? how tho)

🧡🖤Hook/Danhausen (23)

💚🧡Jack/Hook (5)

🔮🍑Julia/Anna (4)

🧡🎤Max Caster/Hook (3) & 🧡🍊Orange/Hook (3) (HAHAHAHAHA)

Top 5 by kudos

i found love where it wasn't supposed to be (right in front of me) [Hookhausen]

man of lesser words [Hookhausen]

don't need a cure for love [Orange/Hook]

baby please (would you read my eulogy) [JungleCorpse]

you're the realest thing i've never had to fake [Hookhausen]

Top 5 by hits

baby please (would you read my eulogy) [JungleCorpse]

i found love where it wasn't supposed to be (right in front of me) [Hookhausen]

now you know how i feel [Hookhausen]

Weekend in Fresno: or, a Hook choose your own dating adventure [Hook/everyone]

threat level: euclid [HH, JC, SP]

Fandom Events in 2023

I made it to a wrestling show! Since they never go near me and my life is what it is, I really can't manage more than one a year, and I've got to be lucky to get that to work, but this was a big deal and I'm so happy that I could make it happen!

ALSO I MADE UP A FUCKING PAIRING AND GOT IT TO THE #1 FOR BOTH PARTIES INVOLVED you know what this counts as an event LMAOOOOO i'm thinking no one should actually have this power

Upcoming Projects

If I ever stop bemoaning my perceived lack of skill, I've got 2/3 of a fic that Vamp prompted dialogue for, largely me writing something fluffy and saccharine because she was trying to write smut and we were both trying to write out of our wheelhouses lol

Writing reflection

Well! 2023 was quite a year, honestly. I was going to be like OH HOLY SHIT about my word count but when I took our collabs, it dropped so fast, so that's good, I guess (???). I'm still so happy I discovered wrestling, because it's been easily 12 years since I had this amount of creativity for a single fandom. And this year I really stretched out and started writing new stuff within the wrestling fandom! That's exciting (depending what you followed me for, I suppose LOL).

But more than anything else, this year I looked at what I wanted to write and said, FUCK IT, I'M WRITING IT. And I started dropping horror shit I fully expected that no one would read, because I didn't think people came to fandom for spooky stuff??? And lo and behold, y'all really showed up for those fics! I'm forever grateful you saw me writing absolutely batshit horror and were like yes, Katy, we will also read this creepfest. So much love.

I also tried to write more smut, which I am not particularly adept at, and also some darker themes. I do try to write lighthearted things, haha, but my own mental state has been not stellar, and I think that tends to come out in my fics. And I started writing femslash, which this fandom needs so much more of! So. All in all, a real banger year for me in fandom. I'm pretty proud of a LOT of the fics I wrote this year.

And, obviously, 2023 would not be complete with me mentioning that Vamp and I produced an epic shit ton of words together, and MORE IMPORTANTLY had an absolute blast in doing so. What a whirlwind writing together has been!!! I think we've really gotten to this point of just great flow, and I'm super proud of how we work so well like we do. We DO HAVE SOMETHING ELSE COMING but we've been "planning" it since August and haven't written it yet, so HAHAHA. Anyway. Expect that in 2025, or something. ;)

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please do eat glass, I’ve heard it’s good for your gums.

Tagging: @whysamwhy123 @meeplanguage @fille-lioncelle and anyone else who wants to take a stab at this!

[kindness-and-friends]

//Heya. Mod here. I have good news and bad news

Good news is I'll be pretty blunt with the lore on the souls and stuff! Ask a question about it and I'll probably answer it

Bad news is this blog will be on hiatus :( ill finish the rps tho dw

To put it simply, drama and other projects I need to work on

To put it not simply (This shit is gonna be like a whole essay. Also i didnt proofread it cuz am lazy)

Reason 1: Drama- I honestly don't know what to feel. I started this blog thinking that i can interact with all the underblogs, whatever side they may be on. I kinda wanted this blog to be neutral because I was kinda inspired by underblog💛's. I enjoyed blogs like integrityvictim and such, and followed them (i went feral in some of the reblogs lol) completely aware they were against @/thehumanofjustice. Because I wanted this blog to be enjoyed and disliked by both sides. I wanted this blog to interact with both sides.

It started with incorrect pronouns. Then our small group of underblogs had a vote I wasn't involved in nor knew anything about and out of nowhere human is the 'leader' of the underblogverse. I never liked that idea and I expressed my feelings about it before. Luckily more people can join, but nobody has. I do like the concept of @/underblogmanagement, it's a way for people to interact with others and develop their blogs. But its too early. If anything it shouldn't be called that, it shouldn't have been introduced the way it was, and it shouldn't be made now. If we want to make something like this we have to make it bigger and have every single fucking underblog lend a hand.

I wanted to stop when I got the death threats. I thought that maybe, just maybe, it was a fan of the underblogs trolling, and it wasn't actual underblogs hating me. I still think it is. I also wanted to stop when the shipping got too bad. I didn't want this to be like @/undertaleolive that was known as nothing more than being Clover's 'girlfriend'. I don't get as much asks as I used to, and I know the lot of them are from thehumanofjustice or deputyclover (im not dumb.) The only time this blog can be serious is when I make it serious. I chose to let the anons kill Willow so it could be serious. I chose to let Clover kill Willow so it could be serious. I chose to give Willow those hallucinations and give Xeon a concussion so for once this blog wouldn't just be meme asks and roleplays with close friends of mine. I feel limited.

I think underblogmanagement is dumb. I think this rivalry is dumb. I think this blog is dumb. I think the creation of a whole new tag is dumb. I think the fact that only a portion of human's friends and followers is what makes up my follower count is dumb.

I wanted to be an underblog💛 with a story, not whatever the fuck I am now

Reason 2: Other projects - I'm giving the majority of my focus and motivation on this blog. Any motivation and creativity I have for art and writing gets thrown into here with no recognition. I have other things I need to place my focus on. As @/infinitrix, may know, I haven't updated my askblog in 2 months. Instead of drawing art for that blog, I'm drawing art for this one (only to get like 2 notes). Instead of writing dialogue and lore for that one, I'm writing it for this. If the only people who'll actually see what I post are my friends, I think this blog is nothing more than a waste of motivation. I need to focus on other things, and always worrying whether I have rps to finish or art to make isn't helping at all. The majority of art requests on my main are about this blog, too, and I want to work on art that isn't related to this. The only blogs whose lore I enjoy and would like to know more of are Whisper's, Winnie's, and maybe more that i don't interact with. I do think that if there's only a few people really trying to make their blog interesting while the rest is just shits and giggles, it's useless. I put together lore and relationships and art, and it hardly gets any notes. I can say the same for @/apatientwind who makes amazing art that doesn't get notes, and @/whisper-the-human (im eating your writing style ourgh. Keep up the good work :3). And yeah. Im giving up

I'll finish the last two rps I'm in and then leave. Don't try to start any new ones, I wanna make this quick

So I will finish what's unfinished, and possibly this will become a blog to ask about the lore. Maybe one day, when I figure everything out and have more motivation, I'll get back to this. But that won't be soon.

Ill be active on @goldeneclipsee if there are actually fans out there that arent my friends and moots.

Bye.

#long post #I'm staring at this like. 'Did I really do this? Is this finally the end?' #I'm scared for when human sees this doe

[flowercrowngods]

🍓and 🎲for the tag game !!

thank you for the ask, mwah!! 🥰🌷

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

as a tiny kid i used to write a lot of original stuff but inspired heavily by whatever i‘d just read or watched. fannish explorations of characters and re-writes of canon started in primary school when i used to role play some imaginary harry potter scenes (i know :///) on the school yard — like same scene every time, and we were sooo many characters jumping around the scene to sell it :D once we got outing 4th grade i started writing the things instead of playing them out with my friend. (first real fic writing fandom was hobbit/lord of the rings, i think.)

and now here i am 🥰

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time? 

oh there’s a series of things that stop me. it needs to be said that the way i write is not at all sustainable, so reason number one would be a need to re-charge. there’s a certain emotional heaviness sometimes that i need to genuinely recover from.

another reason is simply a lack of inspiration or motivation, or a lack of patience for a certain story/wip/idea. or an unwillingness for that amount of emotional vulnerability, or even a momentary inability for it.

see, writing takes so much energy for me, and i know yall come in claiming “dio you’re so talented” and i kiss yall on the nose. but it’s not talent, it’s skill and it’s proficiency and it’s really hard work, and if i want to keep a certain quality, i must allow myself the luxury of taking my time between one work and the next.

and unfortunately i’m also really fucking mentally ill and when you’re busy keeping yourself alive against your will, calling it “free time” is a bit of a stretch more often than any of us are willing to admit

🤍🌷 anyway, send me some asks

#oooh i sound so bitter in the second half but i’m not i swear 🥰🤍 #ask game answered

[thedawnjester]

I made a Welcome Home/Undertale AU while I was high, and I can't get it out of my head. I've decided to call it Welcome Tale, and it's an AU where the Welcome Home cast are monsters in the Undertale world. They still look and act the same, though. They just have those cool attacks and stuff, lmao. (I'm still high while writing this, I'm sorry.)

Anyways, in this AU, Home basically creates this pocket dimension for Wally and the gang to protect them from the human vs. monster war because Home is just that powerful. We love you, Home! <3 (Home actually terrifies me outside of this AU, lol.) So, anyways, Home makes that pocket dimension, and it works for many years to keep Wally and the neighbors safe.

Until one day, somehow, Wally slips through the dimension and wakes up in, you guessed it, the underground! (*trumpet noises*) And, of course, Home is like, 'Ayo, what the fuck?' and tries to get him back immediately. But something (Gaster) gets in the way, and instead of Home getting Wally back, Home gets Frisk (that's right, baby, we're doing a swap). So now, Frisk is stuck in the pocket dimension, and Wally is now stuck in the underground. The whole AU revolves around that.

I might try to explain more later when I'm not high, lmao, but for now, I'll leave some facts that my brain won't leave me alone about.

- ok so I obviously think Wally is gonna be reminded of Poppy when he meets Toriel and vice versa with Frisk when they meet Poppy

- speaking of Frisk and Poppy Frisk definitely stays with Poppy while they’re in the pocket dimension cause Frisk was not comfortable living in well a living house (sorry Home) anyways Poppy adopting Frisk real

- Sans definitely reminds Wally of Barnaby so he tends to hang out with him a lot Papyrus tends to tag along

- speaking of which I like the idea of Papyrus seeing Wally for the first time and turning to Sans like “IS THAT A HUMAN?!” and Sans just sits there like “I…I don’t know”

- Wally likes talking to Flowey

-Flowey doesn’t like talking to Wally (he finds it frustrating)

- Frisk and Wally are wearing each other’s shirts cause I said so also instead of the ascot Wally wears the Faded Ribbon around his neck like a cute bow

- I think Home would try to hide the fact Wally is missing for awhile but it couldn’t do much to stop the neighbors from seeing Frisk since Home couldn’t just lock Frisk up that’s just be rude! (looks at all the angst stuff of Home locking Wally up)

- it actually doesn’t take long for the Neighbors to notice Wally is missing Barnaby is definitely the first to find out noticing how weird Home was acting whenever he asked about him

- until Frisk tells them the Neighbors think the Human vs Monster war is still going on and Immediately start to panic upon finding out Wally slipped out of their Pocket Dimension (I’m not saying they thought he was dead but….I’m saying they thought he was dead lol)

- they actually couldn’t be sure if Wally was ok or not though cause well they have no way to contact him but Frisk tries to assure them that Wally was probably with Frisk’s friends so the neighbors hold on to that hope some not actually believing it (gotta have some angst am I right?)

- Frisk has a good time playing games and hanging with the neighbors but they really miss their friends and want to get back so they can help them get rid of the barrier

- oh yeah so basically in this au Frisk was doing the pacifist run ya know but they hadn’t gotten to Asgore yet before they got swapped with Wally so the barrier is still up

- Toriel definitely thought Wally was a child at first he politely corrected her when she did

- Wally definitely needed help with the ruin puzzles luckily Toriel is very patient with him

- Wally stays with Toriel for awhile before convincing her to come with him and leave the ruins (don’t ask me how he’s a very convincing little man how else do you think he got all these people hyperfixating on him?)

- Toriel is very over protective of Wally she’s very worried he’s gonna get hurt due to how passive he is

- Flowey is the only person to know Frisk is gone Flowey was the only person around when they got swapped after all everyone else is completely clueless

Ok that’s it for now this post is probably very messy (Edit: I tried to fix it a bit lol) I’m sorry lmao if you have any questions I’ll be happy to answer idk if I’ll make art for this au cause I’m not very good at drawing haha but I might try!

#welcome home #welcome home au #undertale #undertale au #welcome tale #welcome tale au #wally darling #undertale frisk #sans undertale #toriel undertale #this is probably gonna flop so hard lol #long post

[fangirlwriting-stories]

They Say You Can't Fight Fate (I Say Fucking Watch Me)

Summary: Remus decided a long time ago that if he ever met his soulmate he'd fuck them up.  It's only fair to return the favor, after all of the bullshit they've put him through.

Well, in all fairness, that's more his parents fault.  But blaming them didn't get him out of this place either.

Author’s Note: You know what time it is, that's right it's time to explore what a fucking nightmare it would be to live in a society with actual soulmates!  Vis-a-vis some Remus and Roman angst this time!

Also just for the record, I haven't finished this one yet and I'm not entirely sure if I will, but I've decided I like what I've written enough to post anyway!  To be clear I am still planning on finishing it as of now, I've just stopped actively working on it and I decided I didn't want to wait and see if I finished it or not.  As of now there are six chapters, and I will post all of them if nothing else!  Check the tags on this one, there's some bad stuff in here.

...

The part Remus couldn’t ever get over is that when he was younger, he was fine.  Ask anyone, he was a happy kid.   He and Roman liked playing pretend, wrestling for fun, drawing or writing together, running around together in the rain and getting absolutely soaked.  Remus was bright eyed and optimistic and hopeful and ready for a happy future and a fulfilling life.

It was all absolutely the fucking soulmates fault.  Whoever they were, Remus was never going to forgive them.

“Please don’t jump.”  That had to be the first thing they said to him.  They couldn’t have said “Hey, why don’t we go get some ice cream instead of this?” or “Hey, can we talk for a bit first?”

Or maybe they were talking about skydiving!  Maybe Remus was going to develop a passion for skydiving and meet his soulmate, the scaredy-cat who’s having second thoughts right before they jump completely safely out of the plane!  That sounded right up his alley, didn’t it?  That sounded like him!

Or it had.  Up until his parents shoved him into this clinical emotionless condescending hellhole and turned Remus’ life into the ultimate self-fulfilling prophecy.

Because the thing is, if you explain to someone over and over and over again that you’re fine, and you don’t feel like you have any mental issues, and they never believe you?  Well.  That can fuck with someone in the head a little bit.

Either way, it meant Remus had spent most of his life in this stupid fucking hospital, and he wasn’t going to get out for the foreseeable future.  Probably not ever, because no one ever believed him.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  Roman believed him.  Roman had been there the first time they’d asked Remus if he thought about hurting himself, and Roman had given them a baffled look because Remus told him everything, obviously, and if Remus had been bothered by something he would have told him.

Roman had just a tad bit more luck than Remus in the soulmark department.  His wrist said “I love you, you know that?”

Meaning everyone thought he was going to have just the most peachy soulmate story ever.  Someone who was starry-eyed from the second they met him.  How could anyone with such a soulmark have any problems whatsoever?  Never mind Roman’s crippling insecurity and desperation for attention, which Remus had to do his best to help Roman with alone, because no one else was ever going to bother trying.

Instead, Roman was there as no one believed Remus when he explained that no, he really was fine, he was good, why was that so hard to believe?  Roman had backed up his story, seeming baffled that none of them understood that.

He’d protested alongside Remus when he started seeing therapists he didn’t need and Roman wanted, and eventually when Remus was sent away to a psych hospital that neither of them needed.  But the two of them backing each other up had apparently never been enough, and now Remus was here and got to see Roman once every two weeks as if that was enough to stop feeling bitter about Roman growing up without him.

His one consolation was that Roman hated it just as much as he did.  He’d never come with news that he’d made friends, even though he had to have.  He never told Remus that he’d gotten the lead role in a school play, even though his parents had told Remus earlier that visit.  He never told Remus that he’d gotten his drivers license, despite his parents raving about how proud they were.  Instead, they talked about creative projects they’d been working on together since the last time Roman was there, they watched TV shows on the phone Roman brought with him that Remus wasn’t allowed to have.  It was like Roman had decided that while he was there, his life consisted of Remus.

Remus adored him for it.  He could imagine just how quickly he’d come to hate Roman if he started telling Remus about the life he was living without him.  He wanted Roman to have one, obviously.  But he also didn’t want to hate him.  And he still wanted to be part of it.  So Roman found a way to, as best he could, say that Remus still was.

Remus just wished it could be enough.

But it wasn’t.

No amount of working on stories and paintings with Roman could change the fact that he was here every day, had no choice or chance to get out, and no one believed that he didn’t want to fucking kill himself.

Remus imagined that it was all of this put together that first made him start considering the idea.

Not seriously, not at first.  Just a little sarcastic laugh of a thought, “Why don’t you just prove ‘em all right then, if they’re going to think they are either way?”

Heh, yeah.

Hey… yeah.

What did he have to look forward to anyway, really?  It’s not like he was getting out of here at eighteen.  His parents still got to control that.  He wasn’t mentally well enough to make the decision.  Because he was never mentally goddamn well enough to make the fucking decision.  And he never would be, because no one would ever let him be.

And he wanted out of here.

The idea made more sense the more Remus thought about it, and there wasn’t much else to think about in here.  He was sure Roman picked up on something being wrong (or at least more wrong than usual), but he didn’t tell him.  He trusted Roman, but he also trusted that if he admitted to Roman what he was thinking, Roman would tell someone.  And then everyone would feel vindicated in shoving Remus in here.  And then Roman would start wondering if he was wrong to have Remus’ back.  And Remus could not lose him.

So he said nothing.  And Roman said nothing.  And Remus stumbled his way into a plan.

Visiting time was good.  Roman and him had worked out years ago that if Remus didn’t show up right away, he was sneaking some kind of contraband that would make his life a little more bearable, and Roman shouldn’t say anything.

So Remus, minutes before visiting started when the orderlies were getting everyone else ready, slipped into the stairwell.

There wasn’t exactly easy access to the roof for obvious reasons, but Remus knew how to break a window from the top floor.  And he was pretty sure it was just high enough to work.

So why couldn’t he force himself to throw the damn rock at the window?

He’d been staring at the window opposite the top of the stairs for at least fifteen minutes now, trying to figure out why he couldn’t throw the thing.  It’s not like he had all the time in the world.  And this was probably his only chance, because once someone found him here, he’d be watched much more closely.  So he really should throw the rock right about now.

Do it.  Throw it at the window.  Now.

…Except he didn’t want to die.  Even now, he didn’t want to die.  He’d never wanted to fucking die.

Remus set the rock gingerly on the window sill and buried his head in his hands.  Why couldn’t he just want to fucking die?  Wasn’t he now trying to do what everyone expected of him?  Wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing?

Footsteps on the stairs behind him.  Remus reached out and picked up the rock, looking numbly out the window instead of behind him at the person.

But then Roman’s voice said, “Remus,” gasping and panicked, so he set the rock back down on the windowsill.

Roman wrapped his arms around him from behind.  “You didn’t show up after ten minutes,” Roman murmured into his shoulder.  “What are you doing here?”  He asked it like he already suspected the answer.  Remus didn’t give him another one.

“Remus,” Roman said.  “Please—”

“Don’t,” Remus snapped.  “You dare.”

“I wasn’t,” Roman said, sounding almost surprised.  “I wouldn’t.  I was going to say ‘please come back with me.’”

Remus shook his head.  “No.”

“Remus—”

“No, Roman.  I’m done.”

“You can’t be,” Roman said.  “Remus, you can’t be done.”

“Why not?”

“Remus,” Roman said, sounding scared, desperate.  “Remus, please, I can’t lose you.”

“The hell are you talking about, you’ll be fine,” Remus snapped, gesturing down vaguely towards Roman’s wrist.

“No I won’t,” Roman said.  “Don’t tell me that, don’t tell me how I feel, I—” Remus tensed, and he stopped.

“I’m sorry,” Roman whispered.

“I can’t spend another day there while they try to find out what secret trauma I have hidden away as if it’s not them,” Remus spat.  “I can’t do it.”

Roman didn’t say anything, just squeezed Remus tightly.

“I can’t do it Roman,” Remus whispered.  “I don’t want to die, but I can’t live like this anymore.”

“So,” Roman said suddenly.  “So don’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Let’s leave.  Let’s run.”

“What, you think it’ll be different somewhere else?”

“It will if you already have your soulmate.”

“I don’t,” Remus said.  “They’ll never let me meet them anyway, not while I’m here.”

“I’ll be your soulmate,” Roman said.  “I’ll do it for you.”

Remus gave him a look.  “You can’t just do that.”

Roman gave him a very firm look back, took his wrist gently in his hand, and said honestly, sincerely, and worriedly, “Please don’t jump.”

Remus looked at him for a very long time, but didn’t say anything.  Finally, Roman gently offered his own wrist out to Remus.

A million protests ran through Remus’ head.  Roman couldn’t give up his perfect soulmate story just for his stupid fucked up institutionalized brother.  Roman had a person out there waiting, someone who probably loved him romantically, instead of just the stupid platonic soulmate like Remus would be, that most people didn’t even want in the first place.  Roman couldn’t just run off with him, how would they live, neither of them had jobs.  Roman would be leaving friends and school and a potential future behind.  Remus couldn’t take any of that from him just because he was tired and miserable.

Roman nudged him gently with his wrist, cutting off all his protests.

Remus turned and met his eyes.  Roman was looking at him with nothing but love and determination.

Remus’ eyes well up with tears.  “I love you, you know that?” he whispered, completely genuinely.

Roman nodded and pulled Remus into his arms, and they both sat there for a while.  They’d have a million details to work out, but there was still another half hour left for visiting, and for right now Remus was going to sit here with his brother.

...

Chapter Two

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #everyone else plus emile picani show up later but it's just those two for this one #creativitwins #tw mental hospital #tw bad therapy #i guess that's what i'll put #i don't know what the actual tag is #tw suicidal thoughts #soulmate au #my fic

[chen-chen-chen-again-chen]

Hi, hello, hola, and happy Stab Caesar Day! Tumblr ate my original draft because, um, I guess its hunger is horrible and insatiable? But here I am for take two. Thank you to @artsyunderstudy, @larkral, and @forabeatofadrum, who tagged me today and who continue to craft delightful things.

Updates on My Good Egg (Good morning, good night, good morning): My plan of posting Chapter 4 today ain't gonna happen. I updated the author's notes, but the next posting date is TBD. I need to focus on my health right now, and then I'll be travelling for a bit (March 24-April 7). But hey, if you've been meaning to read this one, now's a great time to catch up? 🤣

In the meanwhile, I'll share a snippet featuring several of my OCs, Baz's queer, chaotic uni friends. Behind the cut for mild spice. 🌶️

Bunce goes off with Simon so that she can pump the American bartender for information, and as soon as they’re out of earshot, Emma leans forward, her eyes glittering. “Well?”

“Well what.”

“I told Liu and Ramesh you got kidnapped,” Emma says, waving her hand dismissively, “and of course we’re all very worried and hope you’re doing okay and acclimating to regular life again, but have. You. Ridden. That.” 

Baz regrets downing a few rats before they left for the pub, because it means he has enough blood in him to blush. “We’ve been figuring out this kidnapping situation,” he says coolly. “It hasn’t left much time for carnal pursuits.” 

“Baz,” Liu says, aghast. “Why haven’t you fucked that nice himbo? He’s clearly gagging for it - he couldn’t stop staring at your arse in those jeans.” 

“Is he a himbo?” Ramesh says. He pulls out a pen and starts to doodle a triple Venn diagram on a napkin. “He seemed like more of a twunk to me. And he’s got a great bear belly.” 

“Ladies,” Emma says, her hands fluttering in mock-distress, “please don’t objectify that sweet boy before Baz gets to objectify him. Baz will eat his fill of the man-meat and then give us a report.” 

(Please put in the comments/tags if you think Simon Snow is a twunk, a himbo, or something else delightful. 🤣)

Hello tags and tagbacks: @whogaveyoupermission, @cutestkilla, @facewithoutheart, @captain-aralias, @fatalfangirl, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @whogaveyoupermission (THE EDGING CONTINUES), @raenestee, @ileadacharmedlife, @shrekgogurt, @hushed-chorus, @shemakesmeforget, @theimpossibledemon, @imagineacoolusername

More about the hiatus for My Good Egg:

(Warning for some hard stuff, Big Feelings, trauma recovery. Feel free to skip and just bask in Ides of March posts instead!)

Okay, so introspective life/writing blather here... I keep meaning to write a post, at some point, about some of the best practices that I follow when I am writing about material that is heavy, like in Baker boxer teacher grief or the Rosethorn girl universe.

A lot of stuff that works for me is probably self-evident: go slow, be gentle, ground yourself, talk to safe people, have a release valve, be able to walk away, offer yourself a lot of self-care and self-compassion, take care of the soft animal of your body. And don't feel like you have to put everything in - some of what you can write can just be for you, and it can be enough to have written it, and not include it in the finished product.

I honestly didn't expect Good morning, good night, good morning to get me where I live. It is, as I've always maintained, a dumb horny rom com (that somehow developed a plot and backstory and plot TWISTS and OCs but ANYWAY). But there was a line in Chapter 3 that kept rattling around in me:

“You were a kid,” Simon says, his voice low and angry. “You were just a kid.” 

This is not the first time I've been triggered by own fic (and probably won't be the last, LOL!), but this one did me a doozy. I've had to take a few steps back, and just focus on recovering from trauma that's been reactivated in my body. It is wild what the body remembers, and how it holds onto pain.

(There is, at the same time, other stuff happening with my family with grief and estrangement and just a whole mischegoss of hard feelings, so that adds another element into the mix.)

To circle back round to My Good Egg: I'm putting it to the side for now while I tend to my health and just recovering from the past few weeks. It's funny - I don't think it's a particularly angsty story or one that does a super deep dive into trauma, but I need to take some pieces off my plate right now, and this fic is one of them.

I will always keep writing - the WIP game has been a delightful brain refresher, and I have a very fun Six Sentence Sunday post that I'm already excited to share. But for now, My Good Egg is gonna have a li'l nap. When I come back to it, I think I'll switch over to writing the second draft in its entirety, and then posting the chapters weekly, whenever that happens. I'm not putting a timeline on it right now.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk making your way through this personal essay, if you've gotten this far. I am continually blown away and delighted by everyone who engages with the fic, and I am so excited to serve you up some treats in the future.

To end on a lighter note, here is an exchange with my spouse, the inestimable EarlobeGreyTea who continues to offer thoughtful and nuanced feedback on this fic, Exhibit A:

EarlobeGreyTea: Did they fuck in this chapter?

Me: No Me: And they didn't fuck in the previous chapter Me: It's the EROTIC Grope Fest. It doesn't have to have explicit sex (yet) EarlobeGreyTea: Yeah, I guess it isn't the Sloppy Fuck Fest

Love you all. ❤️❤️❤️

#WIP Wednesday #My Good Egg #good morning good night good morning #life and writing #long boi #big mood #my fic tag

[thesherrinfordfacility]

jesus christ the way you and your followers went after that person is so uncomfortable. fandom means not everyone is going to enjoy every single take you have. please start removing yourself from being SO EXTREMELY ATTACHED to your tumblr blog because in no universe should you have gotten THAT upset about someone disagreeing with a point you made. this is fandom. it’s a public forum. the audacity to think you can control what others say is simply mind boggling to me

what if they agree with 99% of your takes but not this one? should they still block you? is fandom not allowed to discuss and joke about the metas that missed the mark? i think the obvious answer is yes but maybe my metas have been picked apart so much that i quickly learned not to take everything personally. if you felt like you were misrepresented you should have just said “here’s the link, educate yourself” and go about your day. instead you replied with one of the most tonedeaf responses i’ve ever seen in fandom and WENT ON TO REBLOG BITCHY POSTS ABOUT IT. i enjoyed reading your takes but now i am put off for good.

also i’m all too aware you won’t admit you’re wrong but. that was a very bizarre thing you did and i hope you learn how to put some healthy distance between yourself and your tumblr blog

by 'that person', im assuming that you mean the op; i have spoken to the op, and made clear that them getting the ask, them responding/posting, and their comment, was not the issue. i'd like to think that i was clear to them that their post was not at all the problem, but if not, i welcome them to come speak to me again.

one follower of mine reblogged that post with their opinion on rinsing out other people's work. i reblogged it twice, the second with the post you're referring to, and another follower reblogged without any opinion passed. that's as far as im aware - i hardly sicc'd my followers on anyone. i then shared a post about blocking people etc where you disagree with them etc., which - bitchy? yes. well timed to come across my dash? also yes. so i reblogged it.

but please do not presume to tell me what i should and shouldn't be upset about, or what i should and shouldn't be attached to. i spend a good deal of time on sharing my thoughts and opinions, and writing up stuff that others may enjoy. i enjoy it too, it's a hobby, and it means a lot to me. it gives me a good sense of pride, of confidence, and of enjoyment - no different to any of the other hobbies i have and engage in. what may not be upsetting to you might be upsetting or meaningful to someone else; you do not get to police what other people's emotional response is.

being vague-posted about didn't necessarily feel personal, because it absolutely wasnt, but it still hurt. it wasn't ever about people disagreeing with my take - which i point out very clearly in this ask, and here in the reblog:

just to reiterate, in case my clearly spelled-out point gets missed again, the issue is not people disagreeing with me. im aware my takes largely exist in the minority, and that's fine! i do not mind! i welcome anyone who wants to challenge me on it! you'll even notice, perhaps, on the original meta, that plenty of people have disagreed with me in the tags; i have not 'gone after' any of them, because people disagreeing with me is not what upsets me.

but being vague-posted about, in a way that some of those tags somewhat suggest that i am stupid, or idiotic, or ignorant - that fucking hurts. i responded - yes, cattily, i will admit that, i was pissed - to the post, and laid out where i felt the tags took the ask at face value, instead of perhaps reserving judgement and instead potentially asking the asker to share the post in question and make an 'educated' judgement.

the crux of the matter is, lovely anon, that people are absolutely entitled to their opinion - does that entitlement stop at me defending myself and my original post? does that mean that my tone should be policed? people are entitled to vague-post about someone's take as if that person won't see it. i can't stop people from doing that, and i wouldn't want to - no matter how much it personally upset me and felt that my efforts and time were reduced to something worthy of ridicule. it's not about my fucking blog, it isn't - it's about when people add their thoughts into the public forum, as they should, they should be aware that someone else may have a follow-up reaction to it. it's about being, what a lot of people could interpret, plain mean about an actual person and their work.

im sad to see that you've been put off reading my stuff for good, but tbh, i think that's for the best.

#good omens #ask

[e77y]

Long but relatively unserious vent/rant below the cut (sorry I added this in bc I realized how long this post is oops)

Being at the center of some kind of internet witchhunt (which ik is kind of buzzwordy but) is literally my biggest fear ohhh my god. Even a small scale one… I think I would Die. Maybe it’s because I had a similar thing happen with my friend group in high school where one of them convinced the others I was like evil and spread all these rumors about me… 😭 He was splitting on me but still. That’s an explanation, not an excuse. And it basically confirmed all of my intrusive thoughts about myself, and my personality completely self-destructed and changed, and I haven’t interacted with any of those people the same way since. I isolated from them for MONTHS and just loathed myself. Bleh

The reason it’s on my mind is bc I’ve seen this happen to friends and mutuals and even just people I’ve followed in small fandoms, where the whole fandom hates them bc of this little drama and like. I KNOW that fandom drama is not the end of the world, but truly I think that would destroy me for months. And I would never be able to set foot in those spaces again :’) Getting a handful of rude comments about a fucking transfem hc I had at like 14 made me stop writing fanfic for YEARS 😭😭😭 sigh. Just bc they said it was ‘out of character for him to want to be a girl’ 🙄 (<- character who canonically felt confident when dressed as a woman btw. initially for a disguise but then she grew to love it. BUT I DIGRESS KNSHFJW)

All this to say I think that’s why I tiptoe around everything I say online… I am SO scared of ruffling feathers, but I know that fandoms are places for like! Having fun! And it’s not a big deal! And it doesn’t affect my real life! But like idk.. I just hate the idea of being hated by anyone. I’m sure that I ANNOY some people, and that’s whatever; I talk a lot and make overly personal posts sometimes (like this lol) but I don’t wanna be HATED yk? And idek if it’s better to be hated and ostracized publicly or resented in secret by people who still interact with you… :( Agh. If you ever have an issue with me, please DM me instead of letting it build up into something worse!

ANYWAY LIKE.. with fandom stuff. Idk. I want to have fun! I want to write and post things on Tumblr and AO3 etc but I am just very scared of peoples’ opinions, especially now that I have a decently popular/well-liked longfic in DnDads. For some reason I have convinced myself that writing bad or self-indulgent NSFW will make everyone hate me lmao. Like girl the POINT of fanfic is to be self-indulgent……….. sigh I need to get out more

^ light-hearted… but also kinda true haha. I stay at home a lot just bc I don’t have many reasons to go out atm and only a handful of close friends to go out with. Hopefully that will change when I move next semester lol. And whenever I get interests, they’re VERY strong and long-lasting, and fanfic writing is one of my main hobbies, so I get REALLY into online communities. And rn that is kind of my little niche fandom Tumblr bubble… which is embarrassing and probably unhealthy but whatever. I just inevitably get a lot of anxiety about things that are important/fun to me (bc OCD), especially bc I’ve never really had mutuals/‘friends’ in a fandom before this, excluding my irls

Anyway this got longer and more vent-y than I intended so I will tag accordingly, and sorry to whoever is reading this lol; I just wanted to get my thoughts written down in a public forum bc idk… Makes me feel less insane when ik other people can see it, too. Helps me not take it too seriously and spiral lol.

#vent #cw vent #rant #delete later #<- like tomorrow morning I’m shre #usually I delete stuff like this immediately but I’ll try to keep it up #was talking to my mom earlier about OCD and intrusive thoughts and whatnot…. #she definitely has it too. like undoubtedly #her intrusive thoughts and compulsions sounded exactly like mine #which sucks for me bc my dad ALSO definitely has OCD (in a more outwardly recognizable way) so! wahoo! double whammy #just feeling kinda defeated about mental health stuff #I feel like it’s never gonna get better #I need to go to therapy or a psychiatrist or SOMETHING #it’s been like 4 years now since I was originally supposed to go lol #and I keep putting it off out of fear (I think) #my friends (irls) have all been getting diagnoses and prescriptions lately #which is exciting for them but :( idk. I feel like there’s no way to medicate whatever I’ve got going on except SSRIs???? #and I don’t really want that #mostly though I’m just scared of going back to therapy or to a psychiatrist bc I think they’ll think I’m lying or crazy or whatever #which sounds stupid when I write it out but idk #I should probably keep a journal but when I’m only writing for my own eyes I just kinda wallow in it and write concerning poetry lol #I like journaling in a way other people can see (even if y’all DON’T like seeing it lmaoooo) bc it makes it feel more real? #and out of my head.. concrete etc. #wackyposting #<- seriously need to change that tag still lol

[sasslett]

Get to know me!

tagged by @elveny, let's see if I can get this done before I have to get out of bed (someone play me the world's smallest violin)

Share your wallpaper: So my PC is set to cycle through my XIV screenshot folder as its wallpaper, so here's my Chromebook (where I do all my writing) and my phone (where I do all my blogging) wallpapers instead!

A lovely comm from thetictactician on Twitter on my Chromebook!

and this amazing comm on my phone from Hollycircling on Twitter, I can't believe she indulged me and went this fucking hard but she did this. In a week.

The last song you listened to: Warrior by Beth Crowley (this is such a Jess song tbh)

Currently Reading:  Ok... so... I actually haven't read any sort of published novel since... 2011, with A Storm of Crows I think? So I used to read a shit ton, but it was 11th grade and my friends were like 'You're still reading kids books? Read something for grown ups instead' (I was rereading Percy Jackson at the time, my beloved). So I gave it a try with a 'grown up' fantasy series and... fuck GoT it was awful and I decided if that's what adult literature was like, I didn't want any part of it. So I quit reading entirely.

Last Movie: Bullet Train, months ago. I don't like watching movies - I'm huge into the behind the scenes stuff, cinematography, lighting, direction, costume design etc etc so it makes it hard to watch movies when my brain won't stop analyzing and criticizing everything (honestly modern cinema is so full of people just 'sending it' for the next big paycheck, the heart is just gone). But my husband insisted I watch this one and you know what? It was actually really well made, I was impressed.

Craving: More time. More time to finish these cosplays (Twelve have mercy the con is in a week and a half), more time to write, more time to decompress. Also craving a Chromebook/laptop/portable writing device that doesn't freeze when I type more than 5 letters in a row...

What are you wearing right now: My nightgown! (still in bed) It's got penguins on it and it's fucking adorable.

How tall are you: 5'5, idk what that is in the rest of the world. Americans, y'know.

Piercings: None, but I bought some super cute Ascian earrings last year and I've been really tempted to get my earlobes pierced.

Tattoos: None, not my thing but totally cool for everyone else!

Glasses? Contacts?: Lasik! Totally worth if you can do it.

Last drink: Choccy milk (I am an adult)

Last show: Last narrative-focused show? Uhhhhhh.... I watched the first season of The Walking Dead in 2012 and I legit can't think of anything more recent. I just don't enjoy watching things much, I'd rather be doing something, and I'm such a snob when it comes to screenwriting/characters that most things just don't appeal to me. Other than that the last non-scripted show I watched was Restaurant: Impossible.

Last thing you ate: An oatmeal chocolate chip cookie my sister made last night.

Favourite colour: Wine/burgundy! That deep, dark, blood red with just a hint of purple (in case you couldn't tell since it's the color my WoL wears in every outfit)

Current obsession: FFXIV lol

Unrelated Obsession: Unrelated? I'd say writing but that's kind of related... So, horses? I mean that's just always my obsession.

Any pets: Uh... yeah. I myself have two horses. And then... we have a shit ton of cats. So in 2020 strays kept showing up at our house and then they'd have babies, eventually we managed to catch them all and get them fixed and now some of them have chosen to move in. Shelters are full all across the state, rescues and fosters are full. So now we have... 10 cats that live inside (it's a large house) and then another six/seven that are still feral outside but fixed at least. Nothing much we can do about it, but keeping them inside keeps them safe and saves the wildlife outside, too.

Do you have a crush on anyone: An eternal crush on my husband. He's just amazing. Soft. Adorable. Handsome. Perfect. Goofy. Gorgeous. Smart. Creative. Loving. So many more words. 12 years together in May!

Favourite fictional character: Assuming player characters/WoLs don't count, Elena Fisher from Uncharted. She was the first female character I encountered who was just... normal. Not a token female, not sexualized eye candy, not walking boobs without a personality, she was... a real person, a real character in her own right, whose gender didn't change who she was. And I fell in love with that back in 2007 (I was in middle school then, so it was kind of a big deal for me). She only got better as the years went by, I still love her.

The last place you traveled: Depends on your definition of 'travel'. On a literal sense probably Portland, but since both that and Seattle are practically in my backyard I don't really count those. Other than that, Philadelphia I think, for a wedding.

TAGGING! Oh so many people should do this. Off the top of my head, if you'd like to... @ainyan, @mimble-sparklepudding, @boggleoflight, @tallbluelady, @humblemooncat, @dragoon-mid-jump, @otherworldseekers, @aethericfist and now I'm out of time and have to get ready for work so anyone else who sees this! Sorry I was tagging in a hurry, I know a lot of you are character/RP blogs so feel free to ignore.

#sassbox #tagged #thank you this was fun!!

[sadkidwarexpert]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝

tw: generational trauma, mentions of sharp objects, mention of cancer and death (no specifics)

a/n: i promise i'll be writing more stuff, it's just that this year so far was a whole-ass circus, anyway, i want to write more so let's hope i deliver that. i appreciate you waiting for me if you have.

tags: @daisycheols @etherealyoungk @scarlet789 (if you wanna be tagged let me know)

"This is fucking useless," my mother spat through gritted teeth, as she threw the scissors away. "Give me the knife."

I slide the blade knife towards her, and myself back a couple inches away till I'm up against the wall, my tailbone aching as I sat on the hard floor. Cherry juice stains my fingertips, my eyes never leave her as clicks the blade open, and as I lick my fingers clean, I taste the sourness of her expression. So much fury in the way she's shredding the cardboard, the sound of the blade working through it like that of my grandfather's phelmy cough before lung cancer took him to greet death. Mother, with years of rage hiding in her every day actions, was making my little sister's school project, and I, not wanting to be victim to her blade, am staying well away, nibbling on my cherries.

Clock strikes midnight and as if on cue my thoughts rush in, a ritual known to womankind for ages: the act of overthinking till your mind bleeds and begs you to stop. Anxieties from every direction, some yours, some not, a whirlwind of silent screams about a timeline, the past, present and the future. It didn't matter if it was within your control or not, if it was yours to begin with or not. You're a woman therefore you must overthink, it's a built-in biorhythm that you can't escape.

Her hands quiet down and move less violently now that the project was slowly coming together, but the guilt inside me roars like those silent volcanoes that never erupt. I often wonder, what exactly was it that ignited such anger inside her and spread eggshells around the house, and if, by extension, our deliberate choices are a true reason to be angry. My mind always round it back to me, or more like us, and through her labored breathing, I'm still questioning if I was competing over air with her. But then again, I did not chose; she did.

Then again, if you uproot a human, strip away familiarity, dump her between four walls, with a bucket and a mop, and a swelling that breaks her back then cleaves her open over and over, wouldn't it be fair if there was anger?

I don't think anyone can expect what happens to them, no one is never prepared, yet they have to bear responsibility for it, the shocking consequences, the sudden upheaval, the dysrhythmia of being, the clocks that tick wrong, the foreign breaths into your skull, the change of face, of odor, of cloth, slipping into an abyss of different flavor. Misfortune you swallow every day that's dressed in summery silks with the lingering scent of hay. Happiness that tears your ribs far and wide and leaves them open for the wolves of misery to gnaw and gnaw and gnaw at the flesh of your heart like a door open in the dead of winter.

The red of cherries on my fingers makes me nauseous, it reminded me too much of my becoming womanhood. I still wonder as I throw the cherry seeds into the sink, if my mother every wanted to discard us like that, to reclaim her old self, and disrobe from this foreign being she'd become to herself. Maybe even nurture herself into something brighter. Maybe then she'll feel that she was enough. Maybe then she'll love us like she loved summer once.

It's two minutes past midnight, an anniversary has arrived, and for a moment I see a glint of tears at the corner of my mothers eyes, and I know that with one choice, one choice that was supposed to break her ribcage open for happiness, her wings got clipped instead, and the day that was supposed to be celebrated, was the day the butterfly died.

Three minutes into my eighteenth birthday, I realized I wanted to die too.

•

©2023 sadkidwarexpert, Eboni.

#writing #creative writing #writer #writeblr #writers on tumblr

[cookinguptales]

That last post I just reblogged was fascinating to me because it was obviously a joke but it actually lined up so well with a common PMDD symptom of mine that I was writing about it in the tags. Then I kind of thought about it again and realized OP doesn’t deserve all that in the tags of their joke post so like. I guess I’ll put those thoughts here instead.

(under a cut, cw: frank discussion of mental illness)

Like I’ll warn here that I’m about to talk about mental illness in some pretty explicit terms. I have Premenstrual Dysphoria Disorder (in addition to Major Depressive Disorder) and for the most part I have a pretty good handle on it. My depression is treatment resistant, but I did some hormonal treatments for years to help with that, my endometriosis, and my menstruation-induced EDS complications.

(Have you ever had menstrual cramps so bad that it dislocated your hips and ribs? I have! Every goddamn month lmao.)

About a year and a half ago, I had to stop taking the hormones because they were honestly making certain things worse, so I had to kind of just. Figure out other ways to deal with it. Working with a doctor, a regimen of cannabis tea and ketamine has helped a lot with the physical symptoms, and has helped some with the emotional symptoms. It’s still not perfect (still get bad days sometimes) but my suicidality is way better than it was.

(People with PMDD are apparently estimated to attempt suicide seven times more than the general AFAB population so like. I guess that’s something to keep in mind.)

That said, my ketamine regimen was fucked up recently because of some issues at the doctor’s office and uh. Well, I’m still kind of building the levels back up. The past few periods have been very rough for me. Mostly physically, but I’ve had some emotional issues, too.

This month, my PMDD has been… I guess not as severe as it was in the past, but boy is it lingering. I’ve been very jittery, very anxious, prone to bad mental loops, etc. It’s been about a week at this point, which is on the long side, but you just gotta tough it out, right?

(Don’t worry, guys, I do know when to reach out for help when symptoms get bad, and have done it before in the past.)

Anyway… one of my least favorite symptoms has come out to play and I’m Dealing with it but I hate itttt. It’s the one that the post reminded me of! And that’s the one where you feel guilty for wanting people to love you.

I think… when you’re dealing with something difficult alone, it’s very normal to fantasize about someone helping you through it. Telling you you’re not a bad person, that they love you, hugging you, etc. Normal stuff like that. I think people sometimes use fictional characters, sometimes real people who love them (like family/friends), sometimes people they make up in their head, etc. I think fantasizing about comfort is fairly normal.

But when you’re in the trenches, your mind is like No It Is Not Normal It Is Bad. I have to remind myself that like… in some ways, it’s kind of like an abusive relationship. During bad PMDD spells, my mind wants to hurt me, it wants to kill me, and it wants to separate me from my support systems. Your brain tells you that burdening others with your feelings is Bad and you are Bad for doing it.

This makes it hard to reach out for help when you need it (again, I do know how to do that, I am safe, I know that I have people who would come to my house right now if I needed them to — and failing that, I do know how emergency mental health intake works, too) but also like… it often gets to the point where you feel like a terrible person for even wanting to be loved.

Like — this is hard to explain, so here’s a sample spiral.

(cw: mental illness, suicide mention. I’m going to try and be as realistic as possible here and that might be troubling for some readers.)

I am feeling bad. I am sad and anxious and scared and feel like I am worthless. I want someone to hold me and tell me they love me. I imagine a person I like doing this. I then think — no, you are a bad person. They would not want to do this. You are putting the burden of your feelings on some unsuspecting person again. It is unfair to use a real person as a mental support. You are forcing them into a situation they did not consent to, and you are using them as a crutch. You are a bad, selfish person and they would hate you if they knew you were doing this. You are asking for too much from the people around you; how dare you ask for love and support? You are worthless and no one will love you and imagining them loving you is unfair to them and frankly very invasive. You are being parasitical right now. Stop imagining people doing things they’d never want to do, you’re such a bad person. Don’t you care about their boundaries? Of course you don’t, you always hurt people because you’re selfish and bad and no one will ever like you. So stop imagining them liking you! Just kill yourself and get it over with, etc. You are a bad thing and bad things should go away and you should stop existing. Stop writing RPF about the people you like, that’s even worse than the crime of just being you. Just kill yourself.

And honestly, this will probably go on for a couple hours and there will probably be a lot of crying. >.> It’s good to keep electrolyte solution around because dehydration just makes it worse.

I’ve dealt with MDD for almost my entire life, but PMDD is… different. There’s a sort of exhausted doneness with MDD, like you don’t want to kill yourself, necessarily, you just want to stop existing. PMDD is different. There’s a very loud, very manic aggression to it. Your brain is very actively trying to kill you. I don’t know how else to put it. It’s like being in a crowd of people all screaming at you at once until you cry, and then screaming at you for crying. There is a mob in your head and it hates you.

It is… very, very loud and very difficult to drown out. I can usually catch the warning signs and head things off before I get into a spiral. Going for a walk is good. Helps break the cycle. Creating is good, too. Makes me feel productive and useful to others, which is a whole other can of worms, but it is effective. And if all else fails, I usually weaponize my hyperfixations lmao. Start up an old video game that I know will take all my focus, or start a new tv show that I know I’ll get fannish about, whatever.

This month has been hard because, frankly, it took me by surprise. It’s a little earlier than it should be and I haven’t had to deal with it as much in the past six months, so I guess I got out of the habit. I didn’t notice that I was starting to get kind of stressed and anxious over small stuff and was beating myself up for feeling normal human emotions. This is usually the big warning sign to me. I will latch onto a negative feeling I’m having and feel very guilty about it. I scratch at it like a healing scab. Then the spirals starts. So I have to keep a watch out for that.

But… like I said, I do tend to withdraw and feel guilty about talking about these things. I feel guilty for wanting to depend on others because I feel like that’s asking too much, a miserable person like me demanding attention from people who are too good for me. And once I start withdrawing into myself and not talking to those around me, things get worse.

Like I said!!! Your brain is abusive and it wants to separate you from your support system — so it makes you feel like a bad person for even wanting a support system.

(I find that it helps, actually, to frame it like that. I can tell that my thoughts are starting to get irrational and it’s like “oh, THIS asshole is back to say mean things to me again.”)

So… idk, I’m trying to talk about it. I figure that I tagged this post appropriately and put multiple warnings on it, so anyone who is reading this wants to be here. Maybe out of curiosity, maybe out of support, maybe because they deal with these things, too. idk.

I’m basically telling my mean brain that fuck you, it’s good to talk about my feelings and no one hates me for it.

Because… this is the big thing… I was thinking about that one Tumblr post… the one that was like “the me in your head is nice to you, right?”

I want the me in your head to be so nice to you. I want the me in your head to hold you and tell you you’re a good person and that I love you. Even if I don’t know you. I want the me in your head to be so damn comforting.

I love the idea of being a comfort to people. That’s… why I write so much of why I write, I think. There’s nothing that chokes me up like finding out I’ve managed to comfort someone that I don’t even know. Is there anything more beautiful than comforting and supporting others in this bitch of a world?

NO we gotta be kind.

So… if I want the me in your head to be so, so kind, why do I feel so guilty for wanting the you in my head to be nice to me, too? Why do I feel like I am so innately unlovable that even fantasizing about someone loving me could stain them somehow? Like I will stain their clothes with my own awfulness.

I DON’T. I don’t feel that way. I have been doing so much better lately. I have been reaching out to people and doing fun things and spending time with people and thinking about loving people and them loving me back. I’ve thought about people loving me!!! And I’ve started to have the creeping hope that it could happen! That I am worthy of love.

Guys, I’ve been better. I know that all sounds like not much, but it’s been so easy for me to convince myself that no one will ever love me because I’m sick, I’m disabled, I’m unattractive, I’m unkind, I’m cringe, I’m annoying, I’m selfish, etc. It’s been so easy for me to find a million excuses for why I, out of all the people on this earth, will never be loved.

So… feeling hope that that’s not true is actually a very big thing for me, and something that I’ve been delighting in recently.

All the things in my head are fake and mean and… you know, hormones. That’s all.

Idk, this was meant to be a discussion of one small part of PMDD but I guess it ended up being a ramble about a lot of things. I’ll admit that it’s much more difficult for me to be focused and eloquent when I’m dealing with these symptoms. I had a moment where I wanted to apologize to anyone still reading this, but — instead I’ll thank you for spending your time with my words. For whatever reason you decided to do it, for whatever reason you’re still here, I appreciate that you did it.

I want the version of you in my head to be nice. And I want to thank you for being nice. And I want to be nice to you, too.

In conclusion

Now I’m gonna go take my medication and be quiet for a while.

#just me #personal post #long post #cw: #mental illness #PMDD #MDD #anxiety #self disparagement #seriously this is mostly me rambling about recent mental health issues and I want to be super clear about that #my hormones are Bad lmao #they do Bad things to my brain and my body and I hate them

[maesterchill]

Wippety Snip

I was tagged by the very talented trifecta @tackytigerfic @wolfpants and @lettersbyelise to share a wip snip. Thank you for the tag, friends! And you can check out their fantastic snips here, here and here, respectively.

So, this snippet is from a WIP that's half posted and I'm trying hard to get all finished before I post the rest. I started posting in back in 2019 for @wireless-festive-minifest and I posted a chapter every month or two until about Jan 2021 where I finally succumbed to all the other pretty squirrels competing for my attention and semi-abandoned it. But I'm committed to finishing it now, by hook or by crook, and have two new chapters drafted and hope to write about four more after that. And then... post the thing.

Background here is that Lucius Malfoy has initiated a Pureblood Giftgiving loop with Harry Potter based on the 12 Days of Christmas, and there is a sorta curse attached where Harry is obliged to marry Draco at the end of it unless he can make Lucius a better offer. If that makes no sense to you, I completely empathise.

Sunday morning rolled around as it usually did, with a stripe of sunlight coming through the curtains and across my bedspread (those curtains never bloody closed properly) inviting me to begin my day. I got up and pulled the curtains open, and dazzling light flooded the room, painting the colours of the room anew—the gorgeous burgundies and golds that reminded me of Hogwarts—and I felt a little of those golden rays soak into my skin.

It looked to be a picture perfect day out there. Despite the whole mess with Malfoy, perhaps I could do as he did, have a relaxing day, cook a tasty breakfast, maybe even have a bath—if it was good enough for Malfoy, it was good enough for me. I was pretty sure I still had a bottle of Matey bubble bath in the bathroom cabinet. 

What was the point of stressing? Hermione was busy writing up a geniusly devious letter for Lucius, and Malfoy had implied that he’d go along with the plan of somehow getting his dad to read it aloud, so really, there was little point in tormenting myself about the whole thing. I ignored the little voice in the back of my head trying to goad me into thinking about Malfoy expertly fucking me the day before and then casting me aside not two minutes after we were done, and instead pulled on some cosy pyjamas and thought about making myself some eggs and bacon. And maybe some fried tomatoes and a bit of black pudding. And, gods, some hot buttered toast on the side and a strong cup of tea. 

However, I was halfway down the stairs—and still salivating at the thoughts of my upcoming breakfast—when an almighty drone arose, along with what sounded like several dying cats.

I opened the front door and there was a man standing right on the doorstep playing a bloody bagpipe. In the centre of London, on a Sunday morning. My neighbours would be livid. Never mind my neighbours, I was livid! 

"What the fuck, mate?" I roared over the din. 

He stopped playing—if you could call it that; his piping appeared to be the long-lost missing link between music and noise—for long enough to shout "Gift for Mr Potter from Lucius Abraxas Malfoy Esquire," and he produced an envelope from within his rather large and tasselled sporran.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

And so to the tagging. Loads have been tagged already, but I'm not going to check who -- just tag some folks I know are working on stuff and I am pure nosy and want to read some of it. So @kbrick @lqtraintracks @aibidil @cavendishbutterfly @the-sinking-ship @the-starryknight @skeptiquewrites @gnarf @oknowkiss @sweet-s0rr0w you're all tagged!

#wip snip #drarry #drarry fic #maesterchill writes