#is this good timing or bad timing? ill have to ask my bank account

[freaky-flawless]

I was really banking on the hope that all the Skullector dolls would be flops this year. We're not even halfway through 2024 and I've spent too much money on Mattel dolls already.

#monster high #monster high dolls #mattel #between fang vote jinfire the creepros and some gen 3 dolls...yeah #ive spent a pretty penny lol #its a bad time of year now too because my birthday's in a few weeks #so any unwise purchase is justified by saying that its a bday gift to myself #thats what i did with the creepros #but yeah the new skullector doll looks promising #and i think she'd look so good with greta #AND its a pay week for me #is this good timing or bad timing? ill have to ask my bank account #text post

[film-in-my-soul]

Ice Ice Baby | 584 | collectivision

Summary: It’s 1990, Ice Ice Baby is on the radio and Ice can’t catch a fucking break.

Bathing In Our Love | 888 | CaptainStilinski

Summary: The bath water is warm and soothing to the muscles, the bath salts clouding the water and sending a nice tingle along Pete's skin. There's soft music playing from the record player in the bedroom, low notes drifting through the open bathroom door. By far the best part of this quiet night in though, is the man leaning back into Pete's chest.

Getting Naked | 900 | thecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: Maverick has a little "truth or strip" game in mind for him and Iceman. At least one of them should have known they were too competitive to play nice.

Occupied | 1,006 | thecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: “Come on, Iceman," Maverick said. "Haven’t you ever wanted to join the mile high club?” “You think I’ve never had sex in an airplane? I’m a pilot.” “You’re the world’s most uptight pilot, and if you’ve ever so much as brushed your hard on by accident while in the cockpit, I’ll give you every nickel in my bank account right now.”

Just Can't Replace Me | 1,231 | toucanpie

Summary: It's still pretty new, this thing where Maverick comes home to him.

Debrief | 1,232 | thedevilchicken

Summary: They've been back at Top Gun for eighteen months. Mav's been staring at Ice in the locker room for every single one of them.

Please see below for more recommendations!

bad-good ideas | 1,244 | andthentheybow / @andthentheybow

Summary: “Fancy meeting you here,” is the first thing the Maverick says when Tom wakes up. It is automatically a bad start to his day- anything involving the Maverick would constitute a bad start to his day. “Likewise,” Tom replies. He doesn’t even know where ‘here’ is, until the events of the previous day- has it even been a day?- come rushing back to him. Ron said the supervillain MIG was preparing to strike, and Tom just goes where Ron tells him to. Now, however, he’s going to have to have a long talk with his best friend about double checking his intel.

can i have what i can't touch (it's the anticipation) | 1,295 | ropememory

Summary: “What are you wearing?” Maverick asks, and Ice can’t suppress his eyeroll, the only time tonight he’s thankful he’s alone, that Maverick’s on the other side of the country and can’t comment on it, can’t goad him into doing something ill-advised.

I'll Wear Out the Words I Love You | 1,511 | Saturn / @icemav86

Summary: Two milestones in a decades-long love story

Shaping Up, Breaking Down | 1,543 | m_madeleine / @m-madeleine

Summary: Maverick has never known his limits. Not up in the air. And not in bed, either.

i’ll carry you up the stairs | 1,576 | andthentheybow / @andthentheybow

Summary: Ice feels that, as Maverick’s emergency contact, he should be used to the amount of calls he gets about his best friend and the man he’s secretly in love with. Just because he’s used to it doesn’t make him feel any better.

Patterns | 1,640 | DeeEffGee

Summary: Maverick and Iceman have a pattern, and it doesn't involve talking.

Bloom | 1,740 | ecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: Iceman Kazansky is born with chronic Hanahaki Disease. Any time he represses a feeling or hides a secret, he has symptoms. He probably needs therapy, but instead he gets flowers.

phases of the moon | 1,752 | dangerousinlove / @gohoubi

Summary: Maverick and Iceman become accustomed to the latter’s monthly transformations.

you're the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be | 1,961 | encyclopediabitch_jpeg

Summary: “Say it then,” The faintest smile, a tiny glimmer in an iris while Maverick grew bolder. “Damn you, Pete Mitchell,” “Say it,” “Fuck you,”

let's pretend (we've never been apart) | 2,043 | ropememory

Summary: Thomas Kazansky lays etched over Maverick’s heart, inside the circle of metal, and Maverick can only hope Ice feels the absence of the ring on his finger as much as Maverick feels the absence of Ice next to him.

(if only for today) i am unafraid | 2,127 | dalearden / @dale-arden

Summary: People have told him they love him before. A lot of girls, a couple of guys. Though it was never like when Ice said it. He’d played along, sometimes, just because he was that much of a screw up or because he needed to keep things going for whatever reason, but it had never made him feel anything before.

Where The Miles Are Marked In The Blood And Gold | 2,170 | Disastrous_Canasta / @disastrouscanasta

Summary: It looked normal. But so had his throat. His throat which had had a tumour. A cancerous tumour. So he kept staring at his elbow. Adjusting the angle, checking to make sure it seemed fine.

now I wake up by your side | 2,566 | quantumoddity / @mollymauk-teafleak

Summary: It's September 20th 2011 and Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell has something to tell the world. At three in the morning. Through a megaphone.

Ship to Shore | 2,829 | thecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: Maverick has been teaching at TOPGUN for about ten weeks when he gets a postcard. Things kind of go off after that.

love that doesn't have a place to rest | 3,375 | quantumoddity / @mollymauk-teafleak

Summary: Maverick is trying to adjust to the life of a Top Gun instructor, a life without Goose, a life spent trying to forget about Tom Kazansky. Who he's absolutely, definitely in love with. And who he's absolutely, definitely not allowed to be in love with. So he's lying awake at night, trying to convince himself to sleep and just push these thoughts away. Because it's not like Iceman's thinking about him, right?

Ever Higher | 3,468 | astolat / @astolat

Summary: Maybe he wouldn’t have thought of it on his own, but soon as he’d heard about it—well, it was fucking obvious, wasn’t it? There was no other way to keep climbing.

blood in the water | 3,735 | dangerousinlove / @gohoubi

Summary: After his cancer, Iceman finds out that going back to normal is harder than he thought.

come the same colors | 3,874 | susiecarter / @susiecarter

Summary: Maverick felt like shit. He wasn't going to make a production out of it.

wingspan | 3,896 | aelibia / @topgunreacts

Summary: Iceman is in love. Maverick is oblivious. And the only thing in the world that can bring them together is locked up in a bathroom.

and gamble for the sun | 3,954 | susiecarter / @susiecarter

Summary: It's like this: Maverick and the Iceman make bets, sometimes.

(I Love You) A Bushel and A Pallet | 4,083 | boasamishipper / @boasamishipper

Summary: "Only you, Mitchell," Ice says, "could possibly manage to get a concussion in a fucking Costco."

When the Rest of Heaven Was Blue | 7,244 | finistra

Summary: There exists, on VHS cassettes distributed through P.O. boxes, a BDSM flick in which Maverick doms a submissive Iceman. They meet at Top Gun a few weeks after filming.

A Shared Cup | 7,287 | susiecarter / @susiecarter

Summary: It was only a training exercise. It was only supposed to be a training exercise.

You're Gonna Be The One That Saves Me | 7,968 | orphan_account

Summary: Of all the inane things Maverick’s done—of all of the rules he’s broken, and all of the ways he’s risked his neck—falling for Iceman is both the most ludicrous and the most expected.

Tell Me Again | 8,805 | aelibia / @topgunreacts

Summary: Ice is a werewolf. Maverick is a hunter. They make it work.

on second approach | 9,540 | Addison R (beyond_belief) / @alakeeffectgirl

Summary: Pete Mitchell is the president of a successful aviation company, a job inherited from his father. When threats start to roll in, the board hires Tom Kazansky as his bodyguard.

Last Flight to Fairbanks | 18,806 | aelibia / @topgunreacts

Summary: Ice stumbled. A nearby tree kept him from being knocked prone, but the motion was enough to let a small amount of snow into his hiking boots. Soon the snow became water, and a future note in some pathologist’s autopsy notes: severe hypothermia, frostbite in the toes and feet. But he couldn’t stop yet. Maverick was still out there—here—somewhere, in the swirling mass of white on white on black bark. And he couldn’t lie down. Ice knew what happened to people who stopped to rest in the middle of a blizzard. They sat down, just for a moment, just until they caught their breath, and first sleep came, and then death. He had to keep going.

Dreams of Impact | 19,891 | thecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: Maverick's trip in Darkstar takes him further than he ever imagined possible.

Kings of the Air | 24,903 | FabulaRasa / @fabula-unica

Summary: Fighting and fucking: two things he did extraordinarily well. How could he have known what the effect would be when you combined the two?

When and Where | 25,210 | twowritehands

Summary: A world where people are given, through reoccurring dreams, 1 to 5 details of their soulbond. The face, the place, the day, the time, or the name. Average is 2 clues. Unlucky bastards get only 1. Lucky people get 3 or 4. No one gets all 5. Maverick is one lucky unlucky bastard. Even though it is his only clue, he knows exactly where he will bond with his soulmate: Charlie's house. But, as it turned out, Charlie wasn't the One at all. Now, heartbroken, Maverick wishes he didn't know that That House is The Place. Because Iceman just moved into it.

Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

#icemav #iceman/maverick #icemav reclist #reclist #top gun reclist #fanfic reclist

[squishmallow36]

It's all I wish to hear tonight, and you're all I wish to be, and this is how we all fall down - Chapter Three

Summary: Garvarioli but it's Alvar's character arc in Flashback and Legacy. Also please send help I accidentally made a character arc out of disconnected oneshots.

Word Count: 3040

TW: swearing, Alvar's troll goop illness, death

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @remember-me-in-another-time @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake @olivedumdum

And bonus Garvar tags: @tw-5 @camelspit

On Ao3 (users only because, you know, AI) or below the cut

Previous chapter :) in case you missed it

    Garwin stares up at his ceiling, watching the fan slowly rotate around. Yes, he gets blinded by the light being on at the center, but that’s preferable to reloading his Imparter screen every two seconds for an update from Alvar.

    No less than three hours ago, he got summoned by Fintan, and the last time he was gone this long, he brought back a kid. That better not happen again. 

    Garwin doesn’t have the patience to deal with a child. Or Ruy. It’s basically the same thing, but at least Ruy can scavenge for his own meals most of the time. 

    He may have developed an unhealthy habit of going to the Forbidden Cities and flexing his extensive Spanish vocabulary at least three times a week, but, hey, at least he brings food home most of the time, so Garwin can’t complain. 

    How he’s able to get food with an addler on is also questionable. As is how he acquired human money to pay for it, cause it sure as hell ain’t coming from Garwin’s extremely broke bank accounts. 

    With that thought, the sound of a correct Duolingo answer echoes through the silent room. However annoying it may be, it keeps Ruy entertained, so, once again, Garwin can’t complain. 

    But sometimes he does anyway. 

    “Have you lost your headphones again?”

    “No. I know right where they are. I just can’t move to get them with someone laying on top of me.”

    That is a valid point, which is why it should be ignored at all costs. 

    “Oh no! Whomever could that be?” Garwin asks, shifting to his side to snuggle in closer. And stare at Ruy. Both things that are very important to do. 

    He’s so pretty. 

    Garwin may very well have dozed off much to Ruy’s dismay, because the next thing he knows, the orange light of sunset is shimmering through the windows. 

    Ruy and Alvar are deep in conversation, speaking in low voices presumably not to disturb him.  

    Ruy ruffles his hair. “Good evening, mi corazón.”  

    Garwin yawns. “What did I miss?”  

    Alvar opens his mouth to explain, but Ruy beats him to it. “Your boyfriend told Finny about his batshit amnesia plan.”

    “Oh, he’s my boyfriend now? Why do I always have to deal with him when he’s being an idiot?”

    “Because you didn’t get accepted to Yale.” Ruy presses a kiss to Garwin’s temple. 

    Garwin rolls his eyes. The first time it was funny. The 8123rd time? Significantly less so. Half of those were his own self-deprecating jokes, so he does share some of the blame, but that’s less satisfying than projecting his problems onto everyone else. 

    Garwin looks at Alvar. “You do realize this is a really, really fucking bad idea, right?”

    “Alden’s hiding something. Unless you have a better plan, I’ve had more than enough of that man’s bullshit. Whatever the ‘Vacker Legacy’ entails, I’m sure it’s going to be messy, and I think the trade off is more than worth it.”

    “What if you’re fucked up irreparably? What if something goes wrong with your memories?”

    “Bold of you to assume I’m not already fucked up irreparably, and, well, I fell in love with y’all the first time. I’ll do it again if I have to.”

    That’s the exact kind of answer Garwin was hoping he wasn’t going to answer. 

    That’s the exact kind of answer that isn’t going to take any form of criticism. And once Alvar has his mind set on something, it might be possible to stop him, but Garwin hasn’t figured out how yet and it’s unlikely he ever will. 

    Garwin looks at Ruy. “Bitch, I don’t know.”

    Ruy stres into his soul, betrayal etched into every line. “Dude. You were supposed to fix him. Fix him. Make him, I don’t know, not an idiot?”

    “What do you want me to do? I can’t convince him to do shit. I can’t even convince him to give me the fucking remote.”

    This is a real, actual issue Garwin has to go through every single day. He suffers so much for it. He’s the human here, and it’s not like any of the intelligent species produce their own TV shows or movies or whatever. He’s the only one with any personal experience watching human media his entire life, and yet that isn’t enough to dictate what is and is not watched. 

    “Well, to be fair, your taste in movies is horrendous.”

    “That’s not fair. That’s not fucking fair at all. And now out of spite I am going to leave you two to your own devices.”

    He could choose to worry about Alvar, but worrying won’t accomplish anything. So might as well go along with his dumb shit because then at least you can have an idea of what he’s doing. 

    Then when he realizes he’s bad at making life choices, you can tell him I told you so.

    And then you’re the moral high ground. 

    …At least until you do something stupid. And so the cycle continues. 

   The first week without him, it’s just like he’s on a normal Neverseen mission. Well, at least normal in comparison to other things they’ve done. 

    Gisela took over again, Sophie and co. fucked up Atlantis. The usual. Actually, technically, Ruy undid the force fields and Sophie found a hydrokinetic friend to just like. Hold the water in place. Because that makes logical sense. Fluid physics definitely works like that. But Garwin chooses to blame Sophie because he can. 

    One of the very few times Garwin wishes there was some form of news or social media in the cities is when Alvar is found by the Bullshit and promptly scheduled for a tribunal. You know, completely normal shit.

    It’s ruled that he’s going to get to go back to Everglen. Which was the goal. So that is a good thing. Even if Garwin isn’t too excited about it because Fitz is probably going to slit Alvar’s throat in his sleep. 

    Why are the elves so pretentious that they have to name their houses? Eh, whatever. It’s probably more effort to ask than it’s worth.

   At least it’ll be fun watching Mr. Golden Boy Vackerpants getting himself banished again or Exiled. Unmapped stars, that would be so fucking hilarious. 

    The real trouble with Alvar being gone is that it keeps going for literal fucking months on end. 

    Him moving in got postponed because Umber needed to practice with their shadowflux bending with actual people and, well, Sophie and Fitz were good targets. At least it can still be on schedule for the Lunar festival thing that happens during the lunar eclipse.  

    Ruy definitely didn’t have lasting damage from seeing that. Definitely. If elves are supposed to break when they see blood and/or gore, he should be so far gone he doesn’t know where he started, but maybe he’s just cool like that. Or the exilium training did that. Or the Neverseen has made him desensitized to things. 

    Or watching Sharknado every time Garwin manages to claim the remote…maybe Alvar and Ruy have a point about his choice in media to consume.

    Nah. They just don’t understand the concept of so-bad-it’s-funny. 

    The Second One--no, seriously, that’s the subtitle--in all of its horrific magnificence comes out while Alvar is notably still absent, and while it may be sacrilege to watch it without him, the sharknado is too strong and Garwin is too weak to resist temptation.    

    The Celestial Festival finally comes on October seventh and eighth because nights do that sometimes so long as google is to be trusted to know what day it is. 

    But what happens during the Celestial Festival is nowhere near according to plan, instead being filled with fucked up troll babies. 

    Garwin is assigned the job of floating around in the crowd at the festival itself because he’s a useless pathetic human, so he gets the privilege of watching both of his boyfriends risk their lives in glorious technicolor. 

    Ruy escapes unharmed aside from a bit of splatter from Umber and a shit ton of inevitable nightmares, but Alvar is another story. 

    In all of the chaos, his memories are returned, so he’s left to figure all that shit on his own while avoiding mutant trolls, both the newly hatched ones and the ones named Fitz. 

    And it turns out, the one named Fitz is the one to watch out for. Who would have thought? This would have been a great time for an I told you so if it wasn’t so fucking terrifying. 

    Garwin starts praying to every single god he can think of, from human ones to the entire fucking troll pantheon and even Ogdy of the gnomes because apparently they have their own tree god thing, not just the magic four seasons tree thing. 

    If there’s such a being that can control the fate of the universe like that, he hopes it has a sense of humor because that’s the only way out of this. 

    He ignores Gisela’s screeching and leaps to Candleshade--their pre-discussed meeting place should shit go down--because shit has most certainly gone down and begins pacing. It’s not long before Ruy arrives, but it could’ve been hours for how long it felt. 

    Hours feel like years until the first rays of dawn begin flickering across the horizon and a troll goopy Alvar-shaped mound shambles toward them. 

    Garwin won’t admit it, but tears escape his eyes when he sees Alvar and tackles him in a hug that probably was a bad idea in hindsight. 

    A shower and a hot meal can do a lot to revitalize a person. That being said, the hot meal is Kraft mac and cheese, so it’s not exactly the most homecooked of meals, but it's better than burning a kitchen down. Even if Keefe would absolutely fucking love seeing its childhood home burned to the ground, it’s much more fun when the arson is intentional. 

    There’s no way to tell how bad the reaction from the Neverseen will be or if they’re even technically members anymore after everything that’s gone down. So, being the semi-responsible one of them by comparison, Ruy figures they should stock up on food, and that means human food because the gnomes are still pissed about the whole attempted genocide thing.

    Which, in all fairness, does make sense. 

    While he’s gone, Garwin and Alvar make themselves at home by borrowing into one of the bedrooms, becoming so blanket burritoed it’s likely they’ll never be seen again. 

    Garwin cups his hand to Alvar’s cheek, whispering, “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

    Alvar presses a soft kiss to his lips. “Thanks.”

    Normally he’d be full of sarcasm, but this time it’s genuine and that scares Garwin more than he’d like to admit. 

    Because once the sardonic walls are gone, then actual emotions may have to be accessed, and that’s not fun. 

    “How are you doing? Considering everything?”

    “Great.”

    He’s fine. That means he’s fine. 

    It’s easier thought than believed though. 

    Alvar elaborates, “I mean I couldn’t really figure out why my brother hated my guts so much the entire time I had zero memories or why the fuck Darek was so hot because apparently I forgot gay was an option.”

    Garwin laughs, remembering the near-fistfight that ensued between Ruy and Alvar over which of the councillors is most fuckable and let’s just say it became a forbidden topic. And also good motivation for taking the government down because they aren’t fucksble until that stupid no relationships rule is abolished. 

    Well, technically, nothing happens so long as you don’t get caught, but that’s beside the point. 

    And for the record, Darek’s the hot one. Ruy can suck Terik’s dick but that doesn’t change the truth. 

    “Lots of confusion overall. Still trying to put the pieces back together because they are nowhere near chronological order. Also feeling a lot of emotions in this Chili’s tonight and it’s been a while since I’ve had emotions so I’m still trying to deal with that.”

    “Would you like me to go harass some other room in this place?”        

    “No!” he answers, too loud and too fast, terror shining in his eyes. 

    Garwin takes his hand, squeezing gently. 

   Alvar takes a shaky breath. “Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want--I can’t think about being in that place again. You’re a good distraction.”

    “Everglen or the Troll hive?”

    “Yes.” Alvar smirks. “Both of them have my murderous little brother, so is there really that much of a difference? Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of him for willing to do what needs to be done, but that anger can be aimed in a better direction.”

    “I feel like it would be funny if you were like ‘I lived, bitch’ and then sent him ideas of how to be more of an anarchist.”

   Alvar smiles--the first since his return. “Hey, Fitz, I know you tried to kill me but here’s a to-do list. One: realize like half your anger is just repressed queerness and you’re pissed because I have two whole boyfriends and you’ve got that probably comphet whatever the fuck is going on with Sophie. Two: fuck up that matchmaking system because damn the eugenics are strong with this one. Three: figure out how to ask out that Dex kid you were so insistent about for reasons likely related to item one. Four: profit.”

    “Is the Dex kid the strawberry blond that’s for some reason friends with the Sophie?”

    “Good job, you remembered one person’s name. I’m proud of you.”

    He’s only at three-quarters the normal sarcasm level, which is, once again, honest-to-god terrifying. 

    He just needs time. Everything will be fine. He’s had a long day. He’ll be his usual asshole self in no time. 

    It’s just hard to not worry when he’s been gone for so incredibly fucking long. 

    What if something during that time has messed him up? He doesn’t seem to care that his brother literally tried to kill him, but what if he’s simply in denial? What will it be like when it becomes real?

    What if Alden’s presence made him regress back into the closet? Nah. He seems just as gay as ever. That’s the only thing Garwin has any confidence in. 

    What about the council? They kept him in their prison for weeks on end and there’s no telling how many violations of the Geneva convention they could’ve committed, even despite the elves’ supposed inability to process violence. 

    Those councillors could’ve just wiped their own memories afterwards, and no one would be the wiser. Or used Goblins. And if Alvar chose to come forward about it--which seems unlikely now that he has his memories, he’d instead use it as fuel for his villain backstory--it would be his word against theirs, a surefire way to lose a legal battle. 

    “Hey, don’t hurt yourself. Think any harder and you might have smoke coming out your ears.”

    See? Right there? He’s fine. But, once again, easier thought than believed. 

    He was fine after Dimitar’s torture, he’ll be fine after this. That’s what Garwin has to convince himself. Because he can’t let himself imagine what it means otherwise.

    Alvar drifts off to sleep, and Garwin spends a long time studying his face, etching every last detail into his mind. His long eyelashes, his unusually unkempt hair, the stubble that’s just barely starting to make itself visible. His shamkniv scars. 

    He’s been through more shit than elves are supposed to be able to go through, but he’s still here. 

    And the cherry on top: he’s still an ass. 

    He is all right, at first. He’s all right for weeks. Some may argue that he’s even more insufferable than usual, but that could just be because both Ruy and Alvar became used to not having to deal with his snark every day. 

    Although, to be fair, they have had to tolerate each other, so it wasn’t that much of a break. It’s just funny when Alvar drops some deranged bullshit that’s a direct consequence of growing up with Alden. Like his stories of traveling in the human world. Man’s a fucking professional con artist to feed his caffeine addiction. 

    And then he starts to slow down, unnoticeably at first but accelerating faster than anyone would like to admit, taking more time to climb up the stars, his appetite going to shit, having a normal sleep schedule for once in his life. The occasional nap. 

    Garwin can see in Ruy’s eyes that he’s noticed the same things, but maybe if they don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist.

    By the time Sophie and Keefe come crashing over to look for god knows what, Alvar is barely strong enough to light leap. How he doesn’t completely fade away is anyone’s guess. 

     Garwin wishes he could just duct tape all of Alvar’s particles-cells-molecules-quarks together, but apparently that’s not how that works. Also duct tape probably wouldn’t be a safe choice for keeping an organic lifeform’s parts together, but that’s less of a concern. 

    And they’ve all simply agreed to not talk about it via the lack of talking about it because they’re all firmly in the first stage of grief and not going anywhere anytime soon. 

    To someone who hasn’t gone through losing a whole ton of people in his life, Garwin can’t help but draw parallels to when his grandfather passed away about a year before he came to the lost cities. 

    Three weeks in the hospital. 

    The day-to-day details are fuzzy, even having hope most of the time, unlike with Alvar. But Garwin never went to see his grandfather. His parents wanted to protect him or something. But that’s a luxury he can’t afford this time, watching Alvar slowly decay like a zombie in front of his eyes. 

    There has to be a cure or a treatment or something we can do. This is elvin medicine for fuck’s sake! They always advertize how advanced they are compared to humans, but they can’t fucking fix this so what’s the point? 

    I’d give anything for him to be alright. I don’t care what it takes. 

    I got a lot of people I can blame. 

    And Sophie, you better believe you aren’t going to fucking take anything else from me. 

#kotlc #kotlc fanfic #kotlc alvar #alvar vacker #kotlc ruy #ruy ignis #kotlc garwin #garwin chang #garvar #garvarioli #tw swearing

[viralhoax]

me vs. evan williams vs. elvis

i live off a highway exit with a few gas stations, a pharmacy and a liquor store all within the same vicinity. if they weren’t split by the road itself, they could all share a parking lot. the liquor store is on the right, always my passenger side. and i think about the women that run it, and how kind they are, and how nice it smells, and how one bottle of champagne from there and a couple bottle of orange juices from the gas station might just stave off this sadness for a little longer…

but then the light turns green and i go home instead. but for about five seconds, i have a decision to make that is all my own. i don’t have anyone who has stake in this game like i do. i could fold on this hand or go all in, empty my bank account, bet it all and hope i hit 21 this time. and if i hit 21 this time, i’m done for good, i’m satisfied, i’ll go home, i never need to do it again. but if i’m able to just pull off this one-night-of-fun, i can stop now and never again.

okay, yeah. sure. because that’s exactly how that works. you get one big win and one great feeling and then you never wanna do it again, right? mhm. 

i pass the liquor store and go home instead. and the sadness stays, but the sadness would be there whether or not i chugged that bottle or not. as someone who has had clinical depression since age 15 (or prior, but who cares to keep track of points at the trauma olympics?), i know that i will wake up in fear or i will wake up in fear with a headache. i’d rather wake up without the headache.

two years ago, i got drunk at an emo night. and it wasn’t drunk-drunk, really (because we have levels for drunk — there’s buzzed, drunk, drunk-drunk and vodka courtney). i was more regular drunk teetering closer to buzzed. but i remember how little i enjoyed myself. and i remember just wanting to feel sober again, which is something i always remembered wanting to feel in my worst days. the spins, the fear, the lack of control… i wanted it all to be over. and it was, the next morning, until i was plagued by anxiety regarding what i had done, what i had said, who i had hurt, etc. because i knew myself (we’re pretty well-acquainted at this point) and i knew that i was going to start drinking and the shit talk would commence. some of it shitty and gossipy, some of it just venting about my feelings i kept deep inside during the times i was sober. regardless, the damage wasn’t really existent, because i had behaved myself and retained the majority of my memories. but what lingered was the awful, gnawing feeling of “fuck, i shouldn’t be doing this”.

i hit the genetic lottery. i have bad knees, a fucked up back, coarse ass eyebrows and genetic alcoholism and mental illness on both sides of my family. drinking was pounded into my head as a teenager as the worst thing i could do from my mother (next to like, lying and murder), while my father’s family celebrated alcohol in all its forms. the first time i got drunk i was 13 and alone, depressed and anxious over some boy and something stupid he did. skyy vodka vanilla and sparkling blood orange juice. fancy screwdrivers for a little fucking degenerate. i had three and faked being sick to not go to school the next day. i drunk dialed people though, so that was a fun one to have to explain.

i smoked a ton of weed (spoiler: i still do, so i can’t even claim full on recovery or sobriety because i know i have my vices) up until i was 16 and another boy cheated on me and broke my heart and taught me that i am triggered very much by being ghosted. gin and sprite to the brim of a regular kitchen glass. probably 2 or 3 glasses before 12pm because i was home alone. i called said boy who was cheating on me and i don’t remember the conversation except for the fact that i definitely embarrassed myself. i napped, went to work, got too sick to work on the line, lied about being sick, went home, puked, and lied to my mom’s face when she asked if i was drunk. i didn’t start drinking until college intermittently with 19-20 being my kick-off years of drinking alone, drinking so much i puked, crying, and doing a bunch of shit i wasn’t supposed to be doing.

in my early 20s i left one tumultuous relationship where i was drinking a lot for a worse one where i was drinking much more. the difference was is that in the first one, it got called out. i remember my ex looking at me and telling me i was drunk all the time, that i was turning into an alcoholic, that i was never home and always at the bar at the job we worked at. i threw it back in his face because i didn’t want to listen, bitched about how much weed he smoked and made him look like an asshole for showing what was most likely genuine concern (or maybe just frustration, either way, he was right). 

when we broke up (jesus, a pattern!) i was drinking wine from the bottle, at parties with people i shouldn’t have been, ending up with scars on my hands from eating shit walking home from the bars or from other people’s houses. i wore someone else’s shoes home once. i didn’t give a fuck about my own well-being. i went to my office job hungover and bragged about drinking evan williams from the bottle. i was behaving so recklessly and i was consistently enabled to behave that way because my friends were already wild and i was the “innocent” one. 

we won’t get into my single life, because i barely remember it. and what i do remember, i regret with all of me.

i ended up living with someone who made my substance abuse problems look like they were freckles on the face of mount rushmore. i was enabled a lot, my tolerance for alcohol went up and drinking was one of the few things i looked forward to. we bonded through drinking on the weekends together and listening to music. it felt like the only time i had his full attention after a while. but things turned south once my unresolved trauma i repressed started to leak out of me like a burst pipe. it annoyed him, i could tell, but i couldn’t stop and would work myself into panic attacks almost every weekend. all of the things i let lay dormant came up and it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. he had his own shit he was focused on. 

i don’t want to get into how alcohol almost ended my life one night, so i won’t, but it’s something i live with every day and still have to work through 4 years later.

at the end, i was looking for any type of connection i could find outside of a person i felt like hated me. i bonded with my new coworkers at bars, drinking heavily, behaving recklessly, back to attention seeking behavior and no regard for my own well-being. not eating, not sleeping. just trying to make it through each day feeling as little as possible. the mounting guilt of my lifestyle and decisions were weighing on me and i refused to let myself process any of that. get up, chug caffeine, work retail, eat lunch in backroom, wait all night at shop to go to bar, go to bar, somehow get home. if i ever for any reason had to go straight home, i dreaded it and ended up drunk there too.

that relationship ended and my first healthy relationship started, but we still were drinking to excess. it made me the worst version of myself. it was the only way i felt i could relate to people. i felt stunted — i had no friends my own age anymore after fleeing my past life to try to make a new one. and i know i left hurt in my wake to try to be free, but it felt like it was freedom or death. but i was trying so hard to be relatable, and the only way that i felt like i was worth being around was being the funny drunk who had all the tea. and it made me a bad person. drinking helped me be the worst version of myself. 

i think one of my worst points that made me really truly realize i probably had a problem was being so unbelievably high on a trip to see my favorite artists, taking my anti-anxiety meds and then drinking 4 beers and not remembering anything except for what images and videos i had in my phone the next day. i kept fucking up though, because fucking up is easier than feeling all the shit you don’t wanna feel. 

so november 20, 2021, i stopped. and i don’t foresee myself ever going back. i woke up the night after emo night and was convinced i had done something terrible. the people i was with looked perplexed and said no, you were pretty normal. i didn’t believe them. the paranoia was so intense, it felt like i was being hunted for sport. so i started a counter and said “i’m never feeling like that again”. 

and i know they’re still in there, lurking, this little winged demon, this evil part of me that doesn’t need enabling. this edgy little asshole who needs to be terrible to get noticed. it’s a contest for who can say the worst thing and i refuse to lose. but even stronger than that is the need to feel like i am able to self-govern. and when i get my substances of choice involved, i become ungovernable. my emotions are strong and feel all-encompassing as it is, i don’t need to try to numb my senses even further than i have.

and yeah, i do miss brunch bloody marys. i miss nighttime mimosas. i miss midnight vodka red bulls and weeknight chugging evan from the bottle. i miss being able to relate to other people in a way that felt effortless, in a way that made me open up, in a vulnerable way i felt may be endearing enough to win over people who were never focused on relating to me anyway.

but life isn’t effortless. and sometimes the things that surround us to make life seem a little easier end up making everything so much harder.

i could take the shortcut if i wanted to, but it isn’t worth the reroute. 

i could watch the highlights, but i’ll never experience the full flick.

i could take the shot if i wanted to, but it isn’t worth the hangover.

[colinpants]

11/14/2023 (in defense of time machines)

five years ago today, we were still trying, me and my ex wife… but the end was in sight. we opened a bank account in a new town, with almost nothing to put in it except stubbornness and hope and a genuine desire to make one another happy… but it was too late.

 I wonder if you still have that account, just without my name, just like the dog and the cats and the bed (which pre-dated my presence in your life anyway) and the illnesses and the loneliness. I’m truly sorry I contributed to the loneliness. I’m sorry I couldn’t love your illnesses away. I miss feeling like your family. I miss the dog. I really fuckin miss the cats. At least with you, I got to say goodbye.

Three years ago almost to the day, my mom sent me a late birthday message on a service I have never checked until today. There were pictures of me, as a toddler mostly. Little grinning ginger kid, still kinda chubby from the baby fat, and this smiling, happy-in-spite-of-life woman that I barely recognized. With it was this message:

“Just in case I only sent two pics…”

(There were 8, she isn’t great with tech) “… you were my whole world even though it didn’t seem like it. Love you, mom.”

I’m so sorry I didn’t see that sooner, didn’t reach out and tell you that it’s okay, I always knew. The only thing I ever wondered, honestly, was what broke you so bad that all that love came out as appetite, as hunger, as need… broke you so bad you couldn’t even remember to feed me. The people who raised me instead did not love me nearly as much as you did. Little Me thought the trade-off would be worth it, that the regular meals and good grades and church services and bed times would be better in the long run than the hugs and the giggles and the dreaming and the distance in between those things, that it would make me normal so I could be a part of the world with everyone else…. But it wasn’t. it was a bad trade. I’m a 40-year-old boy who is too lonely and broken and fragile to take any part of this world, and I just want my mama back.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all that, and I’m not sure I have it in me to actually say it now. I’m sorry I left to get clean, I’m sorry I didn’t stay and help you too, I’m sorry I used all the money I made in my grocery career on weed and video games and not helping you pay rent. I’m sorry that you’re 75 and living in a motel and losing your memories and fire, and I’ve been telling people you were dead for years to cover up anxiety attacks when I should have just been sitting with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t love your pain away. I miss you, and all the family dogs we had, and even Terry. I really hope I make it over there. I bet you’ll see all of this on my face.

7 years ago, I got a call while I was in the middle of a stressful shift at the Tamarac Whole Foods: it was time. Mamaw was going, and she was asking for me. My mind flashed back to me at 17, cold and alone and vulnerable, begging her to take me in… and the coldness in her voice when she said no. It didn’t flash back to the road trips or the mountain days or the summer camps or the constant stream of books and museum trips and knowledge that you were always cramming into me. It didn’t flash back to how bad it hurt when I lost you the first time, when you didn’t want me anymore and wouldn’t say why, nor the endless arguments about God and faith and why none of it made sense to me (I was 11, nothing made sense anyway). I made excuses, begged forgiveness, and went back to work. But I’ve also thought of you every day since. I am constantly wondering if you would be proud of me. It’s hard to imagine, you were always so stern, but… maybe.

I’ll always wish I’d said goodbye.

#poetry #write or die #spilled ink #mine #freestyle #poet's corner #writing #slampoetry

[tavarillasgalen]

I have such bad experiences trying to get mental health treatment.

Like, medical treatment as a whole is WAY too expensive, but this is different. This is people charging you for appointments you cancelled well ahead of time, going back an adding on charging to past appointments and ergo sending your bank account into the red because they charged you without warning, you call them about it, they say it's an insurance thing, except... That's not how insurance works. It doesn't just take money from your account unless you have auto pay on, which I did not. And it has to send you statements with any adjustments or whatever, but that never happened. This has happened to me once before, and I'm concerned it will happen again because I made an appointment just by looking up providers on my insurance without checking reviews first... And the reviews were almost entirely complaints about that. So I cancelled the appointment immediately, but I still had to harrass them for a cancellation confirmation email. They sent it eventually, so now, at least, if they try to charge me, I have that documented proof. But I'm very concerned they're going to try to charge me hundreds of dollars even though I never filled out the registration forms and I cancelled the appointment almost 2 weeks in advance because... That is what people like that do.

I try therapy, and mention I have constant passive suicidal ideation, and the therapist acts like it's an emergency situation, even though I try to emphasize that like... It's Passive not Active. Another therapist tries to force me to do EMDR and will hear of nothing else. Another therapist doesn't believe me when I tell them about some of my traumas. Conversely, another therapist DID believe me... But then pressured me to report the person, even when I repeatedly said I didn't want to do that. The two therapists I actually liked were too expensive to see long term, especially when one of them moved further away.

I try meds and they say you may have to try a bunch before you find the right ones, but like... Some made me worse. Others made me physically ill. Others made me hallucinate. Others gave me horrific eczema. None of them made much of a difference, and definitely nowhere near enough of a difference to justify the side effects. I see yet another psychiatrist and he says to try this drug that is $1000 a month, which.... There's no way I can afford that.

And others still, even with a well-documented history, IN THEIR SYSTEM, which i know because I saw other doctors at the exact same place, claimed that my information wasn't in the system, badgered me about whether or not I REALLY had anxiety and was I SURE I had bipolar, did I have documented PROOF of that, and got angry at me for not being able to remember all the meds I'd been on off the top of my head, consistently claiming I had no records in the system and he couldnt get them from someone else, until I was sobbing in his office. And finally, in the most condescending way, he finally prescribed things I'd already been on and acted like I had a meltdown over nothing. When I KNEW he had access to my records, because i'd seen so many doctors at this place, and ones I'd said nothing of my medical history to asked me if I was still taking things I hadn't taken in years.

And then others still who put the blame on you. If you're anxious, that's stupid, just do it! If you get depressed, just get out in the sun, eat better, exercise! If you're manic, then well... You're just crazy. And like sure, those things can all help a bit, but they're not cures, not for a lot of people. It's not like people choose to have mental illnesses.

It just makes me furious. Sure, there are good mental health providers out there, I know. But I've been trying so hard to find treatment that works for me for nearly a decade, and while there were those two good (expensive!!) therapists and one good doctor who helped with meds but ultimately determined I needed more help than they could give me, it has been overwhelmingly negative. And then you try to talk about it, and people are so condescending. People of the "therapy works for everyone!" group try to tell you you just need to keep looking. People of the "mental illness is fake and attention-seeking, actually" group try to make you feel guilty for even having the problems that you do in the first place and that the only reason why you have them is because you are lazy or whatever.

Like, I manage pretty ok on my own, thankfully. I've had to learn how. But I feel so condescended to about treatment from all sides. And it's like, yes, I want to be better and all this but like... I've tried so fucking hard for so long and if anything, it's just wasted money and made things worse.

#personal #just get help! #as supposed help is a nightmare

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier divorce attorney AU of my dreams (hear me out):

-Geralt doesn't have regulars. Of course, he doesn't have regulars, he's a divorce attorney, a good one at that; sure sometimes there are clients that hire him twice because of mistakes or short-lived marriages, or he will have the odd person whose ex-partner he once helped, but in his ten-year-career, he's never once had a person come to him more than twice

-He has never married. The few long-term relationships he had didn't amount to anything in that regard and perhaps his job has spoiled the whole affair for him; there's never been a need either, he has his daughter Ciri, has his horse Roach which he rides on weekends, he couldn't be more content (or so he thinks)

(-Jaskier knows that many people would and do call him a whore, an adulterer, but he isn't. He is a romantic, a fall-in-lover, a dreamer, a free spirit. Which is why he gave himself the name 'Jaskier' (much more befitting of his character than Julian, what a common name) and why he tends to end up at the altar... more often than is strictly normative)

-The first time Jaskier enters Geralt's office, he acts as though it's the beginning of a Broadway show. He walks in, stands in the middle of the room and opens his arms wide. "Good day," he twitters and flashes Geralt the brightest grin. Geralt raises his eyebrows, but he isn't about to turn away a guy who looks affluent enough he can charge him a little extra. "Hello?" - "Julian Alfred Pankratz, call me Jaskier." Jaskier settles into the chair opposite Geralt's desk and puts his leather-clad feet up on them. Geralt pushes them off and asks: "Mr. Pankratz, what can I do for you?" - "Ah yes. My lover and muse, the Countess de Stael, has left me for another. The problem is that we got married just last month and I'm afraid she is going to bleed me dry if I don't have a proper attorney. You've been recommended to me by a friend. What do you say? Help out a fool?" What? Countess? Well. "Fine," Geralt says. "Let's talk fees."

-Jaskier is a lot and when the divorce is through and all aspects of their working relationship are settled, Geralt calls his babysitter - Yen's always happy to jump in on short notice - and invites his colleagues Lambert and Eskel to get drunk. Jaskier was annoying and exhausting, constantly babbling and flirting with Geralt and, god, he never wants to see him again.

-Of course, Geralt sees him again. By the time he does - half a year after the first time - Geralt has almost forgotten about Jaskier and his stupid Countess and how utterly drained that job left him. Jaskier sounds cheerful on the phone, not at all the common cadence for Geralt's clients, and comes into the office with two Macchiatos and a box of donuts; disgruntled, but unable to say no to sugar, Geralt allows for them to have the coffee over their conversation about Jaskier's upcoming divorce and it makes it more bearable. "So," Geralt says. "Give me a rough outline of the situation." Just to be prepared. Jaskier grins, wipes a sprinkle off his lips and takes a sip of coffee. "This is going to sound ridiculous, but hear me out. So about two months after you helped me last time, the Countess de Stael gave me a call..." Geralt wants to smack the man when he is done his well-embellished tale. Jaskier is obviously being used. But he's not here to judge, he's here to do his job and Jaskier pays well.

-The third is a woman called Molly. Geralt never gets to meet her, Jaskier never talks about her, it is as though she doesn't exist as more than a job to get done, a contract to fulfill. Aside from the topic of his soon to be ex-wife, Jaskier is more talkative than usual. He asks questions about Geralt's personal life, talks about his job - of course he's a broadway performer, 'star' doesn't quite apply - lingers. Geralt finds he... doesn't mind this time. It's nice to socialize for a bit, even if it is within the general bounds of his job. Jaskier makes him laugh somehow.

-"You should give me a discount," Jaskier jokes when he's there to leave a paycheck for Geralt for the fourth time (that Countess again, Geralt doesn't understand how they got married three times in a span of two years (in addition to that Molly woman)). "I don't give out discounts," Geralt replies. - "Why not? I'm a loyal customer, you should have a system for this." - "Mr. Pankratz, do you realize that you are the only person I know who goes through this many marriages in such a short amount of time?" - "Always knew I was special," Jaskier laughs and leaves with a small wave.

-"Okay, Geralt, what the hell?" Lambert asks, strutting in after Jaskier's gone with a bad temper written across his face. "Who is this man? And why does he keep coming back? You know I can hear his voice from my office. So if, like, you're having some sort of strange workplace affair, cut it the fuck out." -  "He's just an idiot who keeps getting married," Geralt says and waves Lambert away. He doesn't add that he kind of starts to miss the idiot.

-Priscilla is very nearly a different story, something Geralt only finds out after the fact. Jaskier breaks down before their court appointment, sobbing into Geralt's shoulder that he can't do it, he can't let her go, why doesn't she want him; by that point Geralt has known Jaskier for almost four years and the thought of him staying in a marriage for longer than half of one makes him queasy, gives him little bursts of pain against his breastbone; in truth, he's glad Priscilla's leaving Jaskier, antsy that it took almost a year for them to split up; she approaches him after the divorce is through, while Jaskier's in the courthouse bathroom crying his eyes out. "Tell him I'm sorry," Priscilla says and Geralt scowls at her. "Tell him I wouldn't have left him if I didn't have to. Tell him to wait for me." She leaves and Geralt doesn't even know why he should be the one to relay that message to Jaskier and so he doesn't. Jaskier never mentions her again.

-The sixth time is the Countess de Stael again and Geralt already prepared his case from the e-mail Jaskier sent ahead. The last three times all went in favour of the noblewoman who was able to protect her fortune, but Geralt thinks he can make a case for emotional manipulation and get Jaskier at least a sizable indemnity. "Mr. Pankratz," Geralt says when Jaskier comes for their appointment.  "Are you ever going to call me Jaskier?" Jaskier replies with a sigh and drops into the chair. His hair is tousled, there are deep half-moons under his eyes which look like he spent the whole night crying. Geralt's heart feels bruised, but he can't get involved dammit. "That would be inappropriate," he grunts. They get to work and Jaskier walks out with a broken-heart and a swollen bank account.

-"When will you give up on that woman?" Geralt asks when Jaskier saunters into his office one Friday, not three months after the last divorce. It's late afternoon and Geralt's ready for a weekend of watching Disney movies with Ciri, but Jaskier's always a sight for sore eyes these days. Not for the first time does Geralt consider asking him out for coffee, but the fact that he's only ever seeing Geralt because he's in need of a(nother) divorce somehow poses a barrier. "Now that is not very professional of you. To answer your question: right now. That's why I'm here." And for the first time with these two, it's Jaskier that wants the divorce, Jaskier that takes the initiative. He's only ever been the one to get dumped. Geralt's up all night thinking about that.

-For an entire year, Jaskier does not return and that annoys Geralt. He finds himself fretting, distracted, hoping Jaskier will turn up with another marriage to be dealt with, but he doesn't. The thought that Jaskier might have found someone he wants to stay with makes him physically ill. His code of conduct forbids him from using Jaskier's contact info though. Maybe this is for the best and anyway, Geralt is down to earth while Jaskier is... well, Jaskier. An emotional roller-coaster. He has his daughter and his horse and all is well. Only it isn't because Geralt managed to fall in love with Jaskier. (When Lambert and Eskel find out they laugh at him for two hours straight)

-Jaskier does turn up eventually, but not to get divorced again. He waits outside the building where Geralt works with two cups of coffee in hand and a tired smile. Geralt lets himself be led to a nearby bench, lets Jaskier speak. "I considered proposing to random strangers just to have another botched marriage for you to get me out of," Jaskier says. "But that would have been rather inconsiderate and there are easier ways to see you." - "I thought you might have found one that sticks," Geralt replies, tracing the rim of his coffee cup with a finger. "I might have."  Jaskier winks at Geralt and Geralt decides to throw caution to the wind. He leans over and kisses Jaskier's lips, then mutters, "I don't ever want to see you in my office again." - "And here I thought that your desk would make such a great hmph..." Geralt shuts him up with another kiss. It feels right.  

#jaskier #geralt #geraskier #gerlion #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #witcher #modern au #headcanon #cw swear words #lambert #priscilla #countess de stael #geralt of rivia #this was fun to imagine #things I'm never going to write #my geraskier dream AUs

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Monday 26 February 1838

7 ½

11 35

Foggy morning F33° at 7 ½ and hardly that and fog thicker at 9 am till which hour wrote out Journal index from 21st to 31st ultimo inclusive – breakfast at 9 10 in about ½ hour – A- poorly – out in the stables  told George he must be in the stable every morning at 6, or I would make short work of it – would not keep him – he promised fair – at 10 ¼ - from then to 12 looking over and arranging bills in my bill-drawer – for the half hour it has been snowing – driving small snow – a little while with A- off to H-x about 12 20 – a few minutes at the Lodge to see Matty – as well as could be expected – said A- would call this afternoon – then to Northgate – to the casino – a few minutes there – asked for Schofield Mallinson’s foreman – said the must be usable, done or undone, by the 1st May – S- very civil – would do his best – all ready but must wait for Shaw the plasterer who must have fires or could not plaster till the frost was over – would begin tomorrow if the thaugh lasted – but it would be 3 weeks before the plastering could be ready for the joiners to begin fixing their work – then to the Bank – desired Mr. Davidson to tell Mr. McK- that I would settled my account – Mr. McK- came forward afraid I had not understood his note – explained – apologized for my not better understanding the forms of business – did not wish to transgress their rules – did not wish my dear side to seem better than it really was – like things to seem what they were – if bad, let them seem bad – if good, I did not want them to seem better than they were – said I had thought of settling my account before the receipt of Mr. McK-‘s note and when I asked if I could have the money till Xmas I hardly thought of wanting it so long – but as I thought of going from home wished to have some certainty that all my checks would be honoured – said I was quite satisfied with McK-‘s explanation – the bank charges 5p.c. and ¼ p.c. commission that is (said I) 5 p.c. and on bills at 3 months four commissions = 6p.c. per annum – yes!  oh! that said I, is all right – I will consider about it, and let you know in a few days or a week – I think of selling my navigation stock and the matter will depend upon how I arrange about this stock – Mck- said the bank did business on the District system and had a certain proportion allowed to them here out of which they had heavy advances to make – but the Directors would willingly advance me what I wanted (2 or 3 thousand mentioned I believe the last time of my being at the bank) or 3 times the sum – inquired – no letters at the p.o. then to Ropers’ – paid a small bill for sundries £1.18.11 the 11d. abated and on inquiry R- said there was nothing now against me in his books – then back to the bank having forgot to get a 5 pounds B. of E. for A- to send tonight to Dr. Lyon for Mrs. Broadbent – which she did send tonight – then to Mr. Parkers’ – saw Mr. Adam – returned from Paris and then went in to Mr. P- just come downstairs – A- had said he was afraid P-s’ illness would be very tedious – he was no better – sat perhaps about ½ hour – signed the Northgate lease, and a sort of letter or memorandum addressed to Mr. Crossland that I would return him of the rent £200 the 1st year and £100 the 2nd that is three hundred in all – mentioned my wish to have the lease in my own keeping – somehow, I never read it over before signing – P- did not remind me nor did I think of it – anymore than I did of reading over the Stump x lease the other day – ordered the memorandum respecting the Northgate land let to Thomas G- and notice to be sent about blocking up the cottage windows and distress to be made for the rent of the H-x fields (if not previously paid) immediately after next Whitsuntide when 2 half years = 12 guineas would be due – P- to calculate what interest should be paid to William Green – the old Stump X Inn lease (Mawsons’) to be returned – the Wakefield road bill merely a renewal of the present act, and to rid the commissions of the obligation to make the branch-roads there in specified – no power to be asked for to make a diversion to avoid Birkby Lane – the idea of this diversion abandoned – mentioned my thought of giving up Holt as colliery agent and mentioned his late neglect about the tubbing – hoped P- (if he had my colliery accounts to keep) would not ruin me – no! certainly not – it would not be much – was the answer – P- seemed pleased that I thought of giving up H- said he had too much coal of his own to do much good to me about mine – Inquired what Mr. Wainhouse would give for my navigation stock - £410 per share and would take 5 shares (of a hundred pounds stock each) no! sad I had made up my mind to £420 per cent. and begged P- to look out for a purchaser – said I should perhaps see one or 2 influential persons on the subject I wished to sell at once all I had (13+ shares) P- said he was selling a little estimate near Lancashire for which he asked £4000 – had £3500 bid – should have £3000 by 1st May would that do me any good? but he should want 5 p.c. he could make that of the money – he had just put out money for Mr. Wainhouse on mortgage at 5 p.c.  (yes! but what sort of mortgage, thought I) – I merely said money could be had for less, which P- did not deny – he said I should have the 3 thousand on bond; and as it was a matter between ourselves there would be no procuration fee – I said that was a consideration and I would rather himself 5p.c. than any other person – but I should sell the navigation stock if I could and then I should not want money – P- however begged me to consider of it – said navigation was rather low just now – they cost £2000 per week by this storm – there was besides a great outlay ordered, and this would affect the dividends – I merely replied I did not pay much attention to anything of that sort – Il fault y penser – think of sending for and consulting Mr. Rawdon Briggs – now Mr. Briggs respecting the value of my navigation stock – In returning stood at Birtwhistles’ shop window reading account of Temple of Diana at Evora (Antique Ebura vid. Plin.) in the Alentejo (Portugal) n°204 June 6 1835. went in and bought the thing – said to have been built by Quintus Sertorius proscribed by Sylla – but the penny writer thinks it was built 100 years later du temps des empereurs – hexastyle – Corinthian – entablature entirely destroyed, except part of the 1st fascia of the architrave – the sharp pinnacles by which it is crowned were added by the Moors. the Portuguese have converted the interior of this beautiful temple into a common slaughter-house (un abattoir ) ‘the most beautiful remain of ancient architecture to be found in Portugal, and one of the finest and best preserved specimens that exist in any part of Europe’ – at the end of this n° penny magazine is an article on Russian Villages – refers to Dr. Lyell in his curious ‘Essay on the origin and progress of architecture in Russia’ says that the authors of the old Russia chronicles in place of saying to build a town, say to cut a town, as we say to cut a beam – the towns being there all of wood

SH:7/ML/E/21/0049

the impression general ‘that houses of wood are much more healthy than those of brick or stone’ perhaps right ‘particularly in such a climate as that of Russia. It is certain that such houses are warmer’ – the most shewy article in the room is the Bogh, a representation of some sacred person, and not [?] of the deity – home about 4 – sometime with A- dressed – A- came with her letter to Doctor Lyon altered it entirely Read Murrays’ encyclopaedia of geology article Russia in Europe till dinner at 7 5 – A- wrote to Dr. Lyon enclosing another £5 b. of E. note to be applied as before and giving copy of Mr. Scudamores’ letter that she received on Friday last asking for a five founds note for Mrs. B- pleading her illness and destitution – A- begging Dr. L- to take such notice of this letter as he thought proper – and feeling assured that Mrs. Broadbent under his care could not be in want of anything necessary, would not  - (that is A- would not) attend to any communication respecting Mrs. B- that did not come thro’ Dr. L- dinner at 7 5 – tea – A- read French – wrote all the above of today (while A- settled her accounts) and came upstairs at 10 25 at which hour F30° - Snowy windy, wintry day

[uneryx]

A story + some advice

Once upon a time, back in 2009, I was “cancelled”.

We didn’t call it that, back then, but basically, after making a shitty, sanctimonious post, nearly every online friend I had made told me to go fuck myself and stopped talking to me. [below the cut - the story, plus some advice to the TDP fandom about toxic fans, consequences, and bad fan behavior from someone who has both been both accuser and defendant. This isn’t a Pity Me post, btw, just me trying to neutrally describe a Bad Time and draw comparisons to an ongoing situation to express both sympathy and clearly state that sometimes consequences are deserved.]

Oh, I had my reasons for the post I made. I was living with my parents, and they had discovered my secret livejournal. After several hours of screaming matches I was given the ultimatum - quit livejournal and LJRP forever, or move out with nothing but my car, my clothes, and the $60 I had in the bank. I chose not being homeless.

As part of this, I was allowed to make one final LJ post - a goodbye, telling people where I was, a (heavily edited) version of what happened and a plea to all my LJ friends to consider that they too might be “addicted to the internet” and they should “save themselves”. It was self-righteous and unwelcome, and my mother had no compunctions showing me the comments telling me to kill myself, get fucked, etc. It was devastating, and I spent the end of 2009 and the beginning of 2010 completely socially isolated, with no one but my parents for friendship. Needless to say, it blew.  Some of those friendships came back, either because those friends had the patience and kindness to understand my situation/hadn’t taken it so personally, or because after years (and I do mean literal years, like... 5+ years), mutual forgiveness happened. But not all of them. There are people who I spoke with daily who i haven’t spoken to in 12 years and I wonder what they’re up to now. Good things, I hope. I wish them nothing but success and happiness. But I had been an asshole and made a post that hurt people, and promptly been shown the door. And I don’t expect anyone to forgive me for being an asshole, even if my own circumstances were pretty dire. I made the choices that I did, and live with the consequences of those choices. That’s... just being an adult. Now. Lets talk about TDP and a certain she who will not be named. Miss thing has said and done some things that are high on my bad-fan-behavior list. She’s tagged the official account in a plea to have them mediate her fandom drama. She posted a suicide threat in the main fandom hashtag, without any warnings or tw tags, just right there for any and everyone to see. She’s made some pretty harsh accusations of other fans of bullying, harassment and death threats, but has produced no receipts or proof, which - in this day and age - is pretty important when making such a serious allegation - meaning I have to assume she’s making it up. She’s defended JKR and said that calling ol’ Joanne a TERF is unwarranted, claimed that “biological gender” can’t be ignored, whined about “liberal privilege,” and claimed that white people experience racism too because there isn’t enough “Tuscan rep.” (girl, what? Tuscany? I guarandamntee you more white people know what Tuscan culture looks like than Fillipino or Indigenous culture, what the hell.) She asks her followers to brigade and harass other fans as well as the people she’s accused, and blows things out of proportion... and then has had repeated histrionic meltdowns in the main fandom  hashtag, the public square of fandom, over one of these big name fans allegedly getting other fans to block her (still, no receipts).  I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this, but the claims she’s making are not true. If you know the ppl in question and follow them for any length of time, that is not the people who they are and they would never. Furthermore, trying to get Wonderstorm involved like they’re the fan police is, as i have said in my most popular post this week, bad. It’s bad. It’s bad fan behavior and being called out for it is deserved. So why am I telling you my sob story and then whipping around to talk about a similar story? Because I deserved being cancelled. I said something shitty - even if my circumstances were understandable and sympathetic! But what I did with that is attacked and harmed other people.  Attacking and harming others and making your drama and mental health public is toxic. People have a right to call you out, block you, and stop interacting with you if your behavior is harmful to them and the people they care about. It’s not harassment, its not bullying. It’s fucking consequences for being someone people don’t want to be around. I get it, I really do. It SUCKS. But sometimes you have to grow up and realize that when you hurt people, they might hurt you back. Nobody in fandom wants to be around someone who is constantly making drama their problem. And nobody in fandom should have to deal with that. 

I want miss missy to take it out of the fandom. She keeps threatening to leave tumblr and honestly I wish she would? At least until she’s grown, matured and learned how to handle her mental health in a productive way that doesn’t drag everyone, of all ages, into the fray. As it is right now she’s just making herself and everyone else miserable. Redemption isn’t something magically granted because one has apologized - it must be earned by a good faith demonstration of change. Not a performative change, but TRUE change. Until then, well... Sometimes you gotta cut your losses and leave. If you’re young and riled and feeling like the big mean fandom BNFs are harassing this poor poor mentally ill queer woman? Consider, perhaps, that she isn’t the only mentally ill queer woman in the fandom (hi!), and that when people call her out for toxic behavior it’s not bullying, but consequences. (BTW, madam, if you’re reading this: I didn’t block you because anyone told me to - in fact, i was told by certain parties NOT to block you. I blocked you because I don’t want you looking at my posts and thinking you can use my platform to give your self-aggrandizing pity party legitimacy like you absolutely did whenever I blogged about forgiveness, fan culture or positivity. These posts are not for you. Nice to see you didn’t respect my boundaries and are looking at this logged out, too.)

#fandom drama #long post #boy I am mad today #get out of the fucking hashtags girl #and stop trying to manipulate people into sympathy by being a damn liar

[okay-victoria]

Random Personal Rant

For anyone somehow here not from the original thread, this started off me getting asked what finishing school is and me getting shit off my chest that is only mildly relevant about how I could both be of the social class that gets sent to finishing school and grows up on welfare.

With an understanding that in many parts of the world it wouldn't qualify as so, as far as the US goes, my dad is from what counts as a very old money family from Baltimore & Philadelphia. Both his siblings went to college and one now owns a major hedge fund, and his sister is married to a C-level executive at a huge conglomerate. His parents went to college. His grandparents went to college. All eight of his great grandparents went to college. My dad...did not go to college. He was not about that life, and while I don't mean it as an insult, when I say his primary occupation until I was ~5 was a drummer in a mediocre band I mean that he opened for a lot of great acts, and if you lived in the Boston to Atlanta area in the 80s you may have heard him play, but he was never a huge national name. But he wasn't an amateur band playing for free at some random local gig either.

My mom grew up on a chicken farm in a Mennonite family in Pennsylvania but also completely rejected her heritage and became a model, sort of like my father, of mediocre status. Not Giselle Bundchen, but had national contracts and if you have a Graco ad/box from 1990-1993 you might see both me and her on it. They met because my mom's friends placed bets, one each, on who could sleep with a member of their favorite local band first and my mom picked my dad and...my mom was actually supposed to go be a model in Tokyo and found out she was pregnant with me and couldn't go 😂

So, after my parents had two kids back to back with a third on the way and determined they needed lifestyles more in line with having three children, they became much poorer than they originally were because my mom stopped working and my dad, with a barely-passed-high-school education but needing a true "day job" worked day labor in construction. My dad's father was too proud to give us money/help if my dad didn't beg for it; despite having eventually four young children my dad never did so we ended up on all the state assistance programs one could imagine. My grandma jokes that dinners at my parents house were BYOC - bring your own chair, because we didn't own any.

My mother and paternal grandmother had no such pride issues and I live in eternal gratitude that my welfare childhood was not as crappy as it should have been because my grandmother would have my mom accompany her on grocery runs and buy us food without my father or grandfather knowing, and every Christmas and birthday my grandparents/godparents could give us the one big ticket gift all the kids wanted that year. But, on the other side, I once got stung by a bee inside my mouth because my brother threw a hairbrush through a cracked window at me and broke it and we couldn't afford to fix it for about two years and a hornet got in one day and rested himself in my coke can (my parents were the very American type that fed me coca-cola in baby bottles at age 8 when I was jealous of my younger siblings lol).

It is hard not to believe in "toxic masculinity" when two men warring over dumbass pride issues would rather their children/grandchildren go without food than suck it up and decide 'help' isn't the worst word in the English language, and you know you've only been saved by two women who came from totally different backgrounds and entirely disapproved of each other but reached out the hand to shake when it came down to toddlers getting the short end of the don't-bend-the-knee stick. It wasn't that either of the men were bad people, I loved them both and got along great with both, but on a societal level I feel they were socialized in a very fucked up way if that was the end result, as both claimed "male pride" in these instances [my dad took multiple thousands of dollars I'd saved from working during college from me during the 2008-2010 financial crisis and didn't tell me and that was the reason I was given for why I hadn't been informed/asked, because it would be too emotionally difficult for an adult man to ask a young woman. My graduation present was them repaying me 1/3 of the money they'd taken from me without asking because I'd like, trusted them when it had been in a joint account that was a holdover from when I was <18 and couldn't have my own bank account].

While in some ways my parents on the surface achieved the American dream of going from nothing to a bunch of money, the real factor in play was that my dad's father was the bank. My parents had no credit and couldn't get real loans. My dad worked construction and during the two major periods that flipping houses was very lucrative, he never had to get an actual loan or pay actual interest, he just had to ask his father to pay out cash and then repay him at a flat 2% interest rate that didn't even accrue over time, just...whenever you are ready, repay the value of the loan + 2%. Because my father was doing something productive, in these instances, my grandfather was happy to pay, because it wasn't giving away money, it was loaning it. I had a very weird situation of mostly being poor but like also getting taken to the "big donors" events at the Kennedy Center and my grandparents regularly buying me a dress as a child worth more than my mom's wedding dress and also needing to pretend I fit in with these people.

And look. When I say "these people"...honestly, by and large, most wealthy people, whether inherited or not, are not the assholes you want to imagine. Most of them are extremely nice. Most of them are generous when it comes to the less fortunate who are in their personal sphere of being. Most of them are just really out of touch. The 100% kindest of all of them that I know once relayed to me that she thought people would be happier if once a year they did what she did...go to the airport with a purse packed full of absolute necessities, buy a one way ticket to the most appealing destination on the flight board, buy your clothes and book your accommodations after you'd arrived, and come back after you felt you'd 'centered' yourself. She didn't understand why there were so many unhappy people who weren't taking this very obvious route to being happier. I didn't quite know how to explain that saying "most" people couldn't afford to do that either financially or from a job/career angle didn't even cover it, as "most" sounds like 70% instead of 99.7%.

I was both my parents eldest son and eldest daughter in the worst combination possible. I was the eldest son because I was the most stereotypically male of all my siblings, in everything from desire to physically fight the battles I was given to dislike of shopping/fashion to lack of emotional connection to my relationships, so I can now fix your average household plumbing/drywall/electrical issue better than most "city" guys I interact with and remain less clingy to them in the process. I was also very much the oldest daughter from a responsibility perspective, I managed our household and from age 10 - 24 managed the finances of our family business, my mom almost died giving birth to my youngest brother after a ruptured uterus that should never have happened in the first place if we had adequate insurance to get her a non-emergency C-section (I was just past 9 years old at the time) and I was informally withdrawn from school for two years to take care of the family when she couldn't because there is no paid parental leave in the US and we got double-fucked by the medical industry because she got a bad "mesh" put in and then had to have a further surgery to repair that which we also had to pay for and didn't have the money to win a lawsuit over.

I don't know quite how to put this, but in the deepest fuck you of the universe, my rich-immigrant-ggggg grandfather's money led to him owning banks, insurance companies, etc, and the family cashed out in a big way when their ownership was bought by and merged with what is now Cigna, one of the biggest US healthcare insurers, and my nuclear family specifically got screwed by the American health insurance industry, but anyway, we were the people selected for that karmic comeuppance so if you want to feel schadenfreude at my expense, I'll allow it without begrudging the sentiment, my family might have fucked up your family’s life too, not just their own.

I got up twice a night to feed my brother because my dad had to sleep unmolested in my room to get to work and my mom was too weak to carry my brother or even hold him against her while she nursed so I had to hold him up to her. Adjusting to living in a city and hearing lots of random noises all the time was not easy when I'd had mom sound instincts from age 9.

I learned to drive the fall my youngest bro was born because my mom couldn't and I had to get my middle brother to preschool and go the grocery store on my own. While I hold absolutely no ill will towards my father or grandfather for this and given that about 1/3 of my paternal family either has an autism diagnosis or should, I fully feel the struggles they both went through to be communicated with, my father wouldn't ask for help, and my grandmother that lived 20 minutes away couldn't give enough help because my grandfather refused to do a single dish on his own as that was outside their "marriage contract" type agreement and she couldn't ever stay with us overnight when there wasn't a clearly-communicated need, so they let the burden fall on a 9 - 11 year old child and that really shaped a lot of my life in both good and bad ways. My youngest brother is 22, and we have only just climbed out of the medical debt his birth left us with between my dad's life insurance and my oldest brother and I paying for the extra cost of out-of-state college tuition.

The irony of all of this is that because my father died before his father, when my grandmother dies, my siblings and I will all inherit enough money (as a non-blood relative my mom, despite keeping her vows to part at death and not having remarried in eight years, is cut out entirely) to make this a non-issue, but my grandfather couldn't conscience spotting his unluckiest child some money in the end of days to pay for my youngest two brothers' education and take that worry off my father as he was dying. The day before he died I had to hold him down in bed to keep him from trying to climb in his truck to go to work because he was so anxious about trying to provide for us in spite of his father having fuck you money, because his father didn't think it was fair to the other siblings (who, at the time, still owned a major hedge fund and were married to a C-level executive of a huge conglomerate). A day and a half later I went back to my job because at the time I was then the sole provider for the family and didn't want to risk asking for the standard week's bereavement leave when I knew I was capable of showing up at work the next day and was fresh out of college so hadn't built up a reputation yet.

My father worked the day each of us was born, so I suppose it is only fair and he smiled at the choice. In spite of what it may seem, I gave a baller and very heartfelt speech at his funeral to all his rich friends that over and above everything, he'd taught us how to be happy with our own lives no matter what, and multiple of them emailed my mom in the aftermath to say they'd reassessed their relationship with their children in light of it, although...tbh I kind of doubt that lasted and they probably changed nothing 😅. The last good talk I had with him, two weeks before he died [his liver was going and it sent toxins to his brain that de-personed him after that and he no longer recognized me as his daughter, but as his sister], I reassured him that though we would all be sad he'd gone, we'd live on just fine without him because that's how he'd raised us, and according to my mom that was what gave him the final bit of peace he needed. Although honestly, I don't think I will ever see the strength in another human again that it took my grandmother to sit next to him and stroke his hand and tell him to close his eyes and imagine he was happy on a beach and die, for God's sake, because he was unaware and in pain and just prolonging it for our sake by then.

That type of obsession my grandfather had with assessing his children and grandchildren on the basis of economic productivity and a very black and white idea of "fair" is one you don't easily forget, I promise you. My hedge fund uncle is currently positioning himself to screw us out of our inheritance because of janky writing in the will and I'm doing my fuck all best to gain the wherewithal to go toe-to-toe with this cold motherfucker in court as the oldest and representative member of my happily much nicer and softer younger brothers who I want to remain that way not because I even care that much about the money, I know what bills affect your credit first and what you can put off paying and all of us have good enough career prospects to do our own thing, but just because I want to give the middle finger to a man that was a multi-millionaire and drew lines on his milk and orange juice bottles when I came over so he knew if I drank what my parents couldn't afford when I was approximately six. Anyway, ask me why I support major reforms in wealth taxation. I don't care who it goes to, just not that guy, you feel?

Having expendable income was very exciting for a bit after I started working but once I got to the hateable point of assessing my annual bonus and internally complaining that I'd spent the money I should have spent on a Sauternes cellar to drop five digits on bedset materials (to be fair they are drop dead gorgeous, very comfy and the factory pays a living wage for people to handmake the sheets/duvets/pillows to people in San Francisco, which is not cheap, so maybe I did more good than harm with that), I two seconds later nodded to myself and went "the government needs to confiscate more money from me". The narrative is always that the "undeserving" will use it for dumb things they don't need like iPhones or refrigerators...?...but like...I could also have gone to Bed Bath and Beyond and bought a very nice sheet/comforter set for at most a tenth of what I paid so am I really spending it responsibly either....?....who is going to get more joy out of this misspent money....?....not me, that is for sure, I probably would have had more fun going to BBB and laying on all the demo beds and buying something there.

My lifelong dream, which may become possible if/when I do have something of an inheritance, is to provide food security for one of the many towns in the US were most residents don't have it. It's the thing I remember the most distinctly over the years. I never could quite believe it when I got to the point that I could just...pay to eat at a restaurant. One of the most disappointed my mother has ever been in me is when I was twenty five and confessed I actually had no idea how much a gallon of milk cost in a city grocery store besides that it was probably between $1 and $5, because I didn't have to know. For now I make a weekly drop off of my excess produce to a mom group I met under somewhat weird circumstances but I was walking through the cut-through that went through the low-income housing back to my apartment at like 2 AM on a Saturday and these moms were out there partying and smoking weed with their kids all strapped in strollers around or the older ones watched by a rotating member of the group and I felt very safe and like these moms had a very good vibe of both living their own lives [seriously for mental health parents but in most cases specifically mothers need to be able to keep up relationships with people their age] but keeping their children safe and accounted for while doing so and trying their fuckin' best against all the odds to figure out how to make that happen when life had dealt them a shit hand.

...anyway, looping way back to the original question of what finishing school is, when I was almost done with middle school my dad had built a legit construction business that then very quickly took off because we lived in a commutable zip code to the now-rich-in-their-own-right people he went to high school with who trusted him to redo their homes. We eventually moved to that zip code but I stayed and commuted back to my old high school. But, i was a pretty wild kid which my father appreciated for a long while because I would follow him around on jobs and enjoy doing physical labor, but once I was mid-puberty and also he had to maybe show me to his high school friends that did not fly.

I snapped - not broke, snapped - my left thumb and my parents had to trap me like a wild animal to get me to go the hospital. Then I got a deep cut that partially injured a tendon in my leg and at eleven I tried to beat the shit out of my dad to prevent him from picking me up to strap me in the car and go to the hopsital. Next I got a deep splinter due to my eternal-barefoot tendencies and it wouldn't come out so got infected and I refused to go to the doctor [another weird back story but I was minorly sexually assaulted [[to be clear, not raped or anything big traumatic]] when I was eight and had to stay in hospital for a week and my parents couldn't be with me all the time so I have a permanent heebie-jeebie about going to the hospital, not true anxiety, I will go if I know I need to and I don't breathe heavy or anything, and I'm actually not permanently weirded out by sex or anything, just doctors in hospitals specifically I kind of unconsciously try to justify not needing to the extent I can rationalize it] and my dad was tired of my antics so he was like "fine if you don't go I will slice your foot in half with a Swiss Army knife to get it out" and I called his bluff and laid down on the floor, stuck my foot on his lap, and he didn't really know what to do when a barely fourteen year old girl called his bluff so my brothers watched in fascinated but horrified awe as I got my foot sliced open spectacularly so that the infection/splinter could come out and I didn't even make a sound out of spite despite it being quite painful to my recollection almost twenty years later.

They saw me cry from pain exactly one time when while trying to break up a fight between all three of them (it was over ice cream) I got pushed and my ankle got dislocated and what actually made me cry was snapping it back in place and they realized it was not a joke. These dumb assholes that I love have ragged on me for "skipping" chores the day after I was in the hospital because the day before that I had to spend 18 hours running Thanksgiving as a good sub-hostess like I didn't have a serious infection that needed treating and couldn't rest because none of them were up to any task beyond peeling potatoes.

After the Swiss Army knife incident, my dad's discussion of sending me to finishing school became real, which I knew when my mom made me take a walk with her and talked about it. Finishing school is like...etiquette school....? In ye olden day when finishing high school was not the norm for anyone, wealthy men finished high school and wealthy women often went to "finishing" school to have a combined education on being a proper lady but also being able to hold a decent conversation with your presumably-educated husband, so it wasn't entirely etiquette non-academic. It was more just like "what a rich man wants in a wife" school, which was sort of household management and knowing enough about cleaning/cooking to correct the staff if they fucked up, how to be a polite hostess, and how to not entirely bore him when you were alone together and had done your five minutes of sex or whatever so actually had to have a conversation. In modern times it has obviously expanded to be less bleak.

I said miss me with that, I can be a girl on my own, so I went full throttle into the girliest sport they offer in high school and ever since have gained the inestimable advantage of knowing how to also use femininity to my advantage, which I am very grateful to my parents for making me learn. It would be great if we lived in a world where that didn't count, but it did/still does, and they really set me up to operate in all the worlds.

It is weird for me to tell the story to Internet strangers because it's one of those things that makes your parents sound terrible and abusive in the general tone of the Internet nowadays, and while I support gender nonconforming children I don't remember my childhood or parents that way. But, I feel like the bits and pieces of my life I've given don't always make a ton of sense together without the context, so here it is, and in the end, I think a number of parts of it are areas where you can probably understand where it makes me have the opinions I do when I write.

Anyhoo, this makes my life sound far worse than it is, I actually have a great life and I am not unhappy with it at all and feel I was on the whole blessed with many more turns of luck than unluck, so, please, do not take this as a depressed artist rant, it is more like a rant of a very energetic person who rants about a lot of things all the time and didn’t need to come out but just did because the question was asked and the time was right with my life being in a bit of flux to think about how I got where I am and where I want to go and why.

Always remember no matter what problems it seems like I have, if I didn’t solve them on my 2 year round the world traveling hiatus I took from working, it’s my own fault, I definitely had the time and money to solve them and just chose not to.

[acoustic-aly]

TW: SA, Spiritual abuse, emotional abuse,

I’ve been going back and forth on whether or not to tell my story with domestic abuse I experienced during the years 2019-2020. In light of domestic awareness month and the release of Maid on Netflix, I want to bring emotional, mental, sexual and spiritual abuse to the forefront of this conversation.

In early 2019, I got out of a year long relationship with someone who was struggling with mental illness and wasn’t using the best coping mechanisms. I left that relationship tapped out on love. A few weeks later, I met my abuser at church. He gave me everything my ex couldn’t in the realms of attention, time, showered me with compliments, it was a whirl wind, otherwise known as Love Bombing. And within a month, we were engaged.

The narcissist and emotional abusive tendencies started small. We both had a passion of going to the gym. One time at the gym, he approached me to tell me something and I had my headphones in. I placed them on pause and looked up at him. He had an outburst, rose his voice at me telling me that he hated that I wore headphones cause I ignored him when I did. I informed him that they were paused whenever I spoke to him. He told me he didn’t want me wearing them any longer when we were working out together. Even if we were in different areas of the gym.

Another time, we were running late to meet friends. He left me waiting on him for roughly 20min. I told him he had bad time management skills and laughed. He gave me the silent treatment all day, even in front of our friends. He wouldn’t speak to me, give me eye contact, wouldn’t sit next to me, nothing. When we got home, I asked him what was wrong and -while in the same room-texted me answering the question saying I hurt him so badly with my time management comment that he couldn’t look me in the eye and he didn’t want to be in the same room with me.

When planning our wedding, I wanted to wait a year to get married since we were still getting to know each other. At the time, he was planning on returning to school, but lived in Springfield with his mother. His job didn’t offer him health insurance, which was needed in order to be a student. He insisted we get married at the start of the school year (3 months after our engagement). My job was salaried, I had health benefits that could help him with school. He insisted we’d never see each other if we waited a year cause Springfield was so far away from Dayton, but if we got married then we could live together and not be living in sin. He also had terrible credit, while mine was good. Again, at his insistence, if we were married he could be added to my credit cards and bank account to help build his credit while he was in school and eventually pay off his $50k+ student loan from previous college programs he didn’t complete. Cause his debt would be our debt. After numerous talks of him laying out how he’d financially benefit from us getting married sooner, I obliged.

As I mentioned before, we met at church. In the beginning of our relationship we decided to be celibate. He told me that if we crossed that threshold before we were married, he’d break up with me-even if he initiated it. He didn’t want us to break our promise to God. At the time, I thought, “Wow, what an amazing man of God who loved me so much that he’s putting Christ first.” One night, we were getting hot and heavy in the sheets. He took off his pants and proceeded to take off mine. I told him we should stop. We had made it that far, we could wait a month more to have sex. He whined, stating we were so close. I reminded him that we promised to stay celibate and we should stop. He then whispered in my ear, “well let me give you a little taste” and thrust himself inside me.

I was shocked. For the next day, I couldn’t comprehend that I had been raped by my fiancé. I focused more on the fact that we had broken our promise to God to stay celibate. I approached him that night and told him how disappointed I was that we didn’t save sex for marriage and that I had told him we should’ve stopped. He looked me in the eyes and said, “It’s okay. God knows we’re getting married and in the Bible, marriage occurred at the bedding ceremony where the couple would consummate the marriage and people would watch them to make sure they were married. God watched us last night, so we’re married in His eyes”. This coming from the guy who threatened to end our relationship if that line was ever crossed.

A few weeks later, my ex who I had dated for a year before I met my fiancé, had committed suicide. I took it hard. Heavy with guilt for not sticking it out with him, not forcing him to go to therapy, for all the arguments we had where I might’ve made him feel less then, etc. all those memories and ‘should haves’ washed over me. I assured my fiancé that I loved him and I was hurt at the future my ex had lost.

A couple days after my ex had passed, I posted a picture of him and I at work on social media with the caption, “Rest Easy”. In the picture, my ex and I had our arms around each other. My fiancé came over after work that day infuriated with me that I would post a picture of myself with another guy when we were getting married the following week cause, “People are going to think you’re marrying him, and not me. You need to get over it.” Two days ago, someone I had loved, I had cried over, fought with, spent holidays and family functions with, someone I gave my all to to help him in every way I could for a year-lost his battle to mental illness. That’s not something I could “get over” in two days. I reminded him that I had my reasons for breaking up with him and that he was dead. No one that we know is going to think I’m marrying a dead guy. He responded with, “Get a therapist cause I don’t want to hear you grieving over another guy”. In that moment, I lost my safe space with him.

We went through with our wedding and I continued grieving alone. From there, the emotional, mental and sexual abuse continued. After a month of being married, he stated he wanted to start to try to have kids. Before we got married, we had agreed to post pone having a child until his school loan was paid off. He began complaining about my birth control saying it bothered him and caused him pain (it was the ring m). He would cry and yell at me about me getting off of it. I told him if I got off birth control, then he would have to use condoms because I didn’t want to get pregnant. That’s when he began pretending to put condoms on (which is classified as statutory rape in some states).

My depression had grown during this time. I was unfulfilled at my job and was still grieving alone. I stopped showing physical affection to him when I was at my lowest. His response to the lessening physical affection escalated from conversations to throwing things at me, pushing me or bumping into me intentionally when he was angry. If he was speaking to me

and I was doing another task while listening to him or if he felt I was ignoring him, he would slam cabinets or throwing our trash bin across the room to get my attention.

We would argue every day about anything and everything. I was constantly reminded that I wasn’t the woman he wanted to marry and I had tricked him into marrying him. (when in actuality, I was depressed). To even escalating to him telling me twice that I was the reason he wanted to kill himself every day because living with me was hell for him. That cut deep.

We were even in a young married couples group that acted as our group therapy second to our couples counseling we had weekly. The group had a rule: you would talk to your spouse first about what you want and didn’t want to be shared with the group. I would list things I didn’t want to be shared, but he made sure to always speak before me in group. He would tell our young married couples group about how he was depressed and felt unloved by me due to me not speaking his love language well, to watching too much TV, to not talking to him enough. I was constantly caught off guard in front of this group. I felt if I spoke after him about my grief or his verbal abuse or how he’d throw things, slam things, scream in my face, that it wouldn’t matter. He painted a beautiful picture of how I was an unsupportive wife who was selfish and apathetic. I remember a wife’s response to his comment one times distinctly. She said, “I could never treat my husband that way, especially if I knew he was hurting.” As soon as she said that, he turned to me and smirked. I stopped speaking up and sharing in group. Something I once found respite in where I felt that I could be understood became something I no longer looked forward to.

In March of 2020, I told him that I wanted to separate and spend 2 weeks with my friend. We had been arguing every day. I had lost my job, which was our primary source of income. I was applying to roughly 10 jobs a day, trying to find something. I was stressed. He said no and that I was disobeying God for even thinking of separation. He said he’s rather be roommates in a disappointing marriage for the rest of his life than disobey God. I told him if we didn’t separate now, we will be divorced by the end of the year. He still refused to let me go to my friends.

Through more manipulation, verbal and mental abuse, we hit our peak. I had had enough and told him I wanted a divorce. He left our home and began telling some of the husbands in our young married group that I was the abusive one. That I gaslit him and had a bad temper. He even went as far to say that my best friend was a bad influence on me and the divorce was my friends idea. In a group message with our young married couples, he informed them that I was the one breaking our covenant to God, not him. That since he wasn’t initiating the divorce, and I quote, “I will remain faithful to Aly and the vow I made to her. I look forward to when we will be reunited in heaven as husband and wife. As the gospel says, come, Jesus, come!”

Even after our divorce, when family asked what happened, I never told the worst of it. I told people the emotional and verbal abuse, how we fought all the time. It wasn’t until Feb. of 2021 when I met my step mom for lunch and I decided to tell her the full truth and as I was telling her the situations I found myself in with him did I realize that I actually experienced rape and sexual assault in my marriage.

Even to this day, not a lot of people know the details of the trauma I experienced. A lot of it was due to me processing it all and doing my best to be a better person. Better at communicating, better at speaking love languages for myself, my future partner and my friends. To be better at noticing triggers and getting to the root of them. Better at setting standards for my dating life and what I wanted to bring to the table. Better at apologizing and taking accountability both in my personal and professional life, instead of making excuses. Better at noticing if I was responsible for gaslighting or selfish tendencies and finding ways to work through them without placing blame on the other party.

Emotional, mental, verbal, spiritual and sexual abuse can be experienced at any capacity. All are damaging like physical abuse is. If you find yourself resonating with my story, you aren’t alone. There are resources out there to help you get out of whatever situation you’re in. You aren’t who your abusers say you are or make you out to be.

#domestic abuse awareness #spritual abuse #love #marriage #MAID #netflix #narcissist

[heyitsyn]

Mess Up

TimeTraveler!Son x Haikyuu!!

a/n: lmao im really sorry about this :’( this is just a brain dump and something i thought of while i was watching the stage play and i was thinking about it last night until i fell asleep

p.s. your son’s name is natsu in this one and hes an oc so dont be confused as to who this guy is 😂

summary: your son accidentally stumbles through time and the only way he can go back is if his mother and father get together. the only problem? he doesnt know who his father is

he,,,, messed up

that was clear the moment he woke up to a supposed bicycle accident in early morning when it shouldve been a car accident at the dead of night

lets take a flashback shall we

natsu came home after volleyball practice around 8 at night and he stumbled through the front door where he could smell the delicious food that you were cooking

‘ma! tadaima!’

he shouted and you peeked from the hallway with your blue apron and ladle and a close-eyed grin

‘okaeri, baby!’

his slippers padded across the wooden floors to go to the kitchen and watch as you stirred the miso soup

‘how was practice, dumpling?’

omg i would totally call my future kids that though

he shrugged, even though you couldnt see him, and went to the fridge to grab a bottled water before taking a sip

‘inter-high is coming up so captain’s been making us practice longer’

he answered then went to jump on the counter beside the stove so you could see him

he turned silent as he inspected your features and how youthful you still looked despite going through so many stressful times and hardships of raising your son alone

but he was really wondering what was exactly your purpose of being here since you rarely cooked for him due to being busy at work and therefore coming home late

‘ma, why are you here early?’

you noticeably stopped for a second before smiling, eyes shifting from the pot to him

‘i,,, have something to talk about with you’

natsu blinked then leaned against the wall and crossed his arms

‘is it something bad? but youre cooking my favorite so it must be something good. then again, it might be something bad but you want to be on my good side so youre bribing me with-’

‘natsu’

you softly called out to him and he stopped

you turned off the stove and shuffled to the side so you could stand in between his legs

no words were said as a sad look passed your eyes and you cupped his face, looking at him

‘youve grown so much, natsu. ma is sorry that she wasnt here to watch you grow. can you forgive me?’

natsu let out a confused sound and he placed his hands on top of yours from his face then quirked an eyebrow

‘ma, whats going on?’

he slowly asked

you continued to look through every feature of your son and grimaced slightly as his father’s stood out much more than you thought

‘come. lets eat while we talk’

dinner was tense

it was more of the tension coming from you and natsu being so worried and confused that he couldnt even eat his favorite

suddenly, he slammed his chopsticks to the table, fed up with the silence and genuinely worried by your behavior

‘ma, tell me whats wrong’

you winced and swallowed before shakingly placing your own utensils down and looking at a stain on the table from when he was 5 and accidentally spilled dye from his tye-dye activity

‘natsu, i,,,’

you drifted off but he gestured for you to continue

‘first off,,, i want you to know that i love you and that i only want what’s best for you. second,,, i hope you will go through with this because i,,, dont want you to bear this,,, this grudge for the rest of your life’

‘am i adopted?’

he demanded but you looked at him in shock

‘what? no! we literally have the same hair color and eyes, dumpling!’

then he let out a relieved sigh

‘thats the worst thing i thought of so i feel better now. come on, hit me’

you chuckled but went back to talking

‘your father,,, wants to meet you’

nope, that was actually the worst thing he heard

‘father? what, father?’

he couldnt stop the venom that dripped from his words and you flinched because you knew he would act like this

‘we bumped into each other at the airport,,,, he told me about,,, wanting to meet,, you’

you mumbled, now concentrating at your laced fingers

‘well, you can tell him to fck off because the feeling’s not mutual’

natsu growled then continued shoveling down his rice but you reached out and softly placed a hand on his arm and sent him a pleading look

‘darling, i-,,, i dont want to do this either. but this hatred for him-your anger- i dont want you to live with this! this might not show now but it will affect you in the future with a-a future family! he will drag you down but if you just--- just talk to him once! just once-’

natsu banged a fist on the table and you gasped at the sudden sound

‘HE WANTED YOU TO KILL ME’

he shouted, anger and rage reeking from his spot across you

‘HE LEFT YOU TO FEND FOR YOURSELF BECAUSE HE WAS TOO MUCH OF A DAMN COWARD TO OWN UP TO A CHILD HE HELPED MAKE. OH SO WHAT- ALL BECAUSE HE JUST WANTED TO SCREW? A FUN TIME THEN THROW YOU-US- AWAY? NAH, MA, WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO MEET SOMEONE WHO NEVER WANTED ME IN THE FIRST PLACE?’

you gulped because right now, you were able to see the similarity to his father

‘he just wants to see you-to talk to you’

‘BUT WHAT ABOUT ME? I DONT WANT TO SEE HIS FCKING FACE BECAUSE IF I DO, I MIGHT PLUMMET HIM TO THE GROUND’

‘natsu, please stop yelling at me’

you pleaded and he stared at you angrily but turned his gaze back to the chicken bites

‘every thought of him makes me angry so if i see him, i will lose every control i have. hes nothing but a stranger to me-wait, no, hes like dirt that deserves nothing but bad luck to come his way. its either he wanted me or cant have me. and he chose wrong so hes going to have live with it for the rest of his life and pretend i dont even exist. and thats that’

you ran your hands on your face then closed your eyes

‘natsu, you dont understand, we-- we were children! i was still a student! we didnt know,, we didnt know anything about babies! i-i feel like shite because i brought upon this rage in you towards him, your father! i want to make things right! to make peace!’

‘DO YOU THINK I NEVER SAW THE TIMES YOU SAT ON THIS SAME FCKING TABLE, LOOKING AT THE BANK ACCOUNT AND CRYING BECAUSE WE WOULDNT HAVE ENOUGH FOR FOOD TOMORROW? OR-OR WHEN YOU BEGGED-BEGGED- YOUR BOSS FOR MORE SHIFTS SO YOU COULD MAINTAIN A ROOF OVER OUR HEAD? YOU THINK I DONT SEE THAT SHITE?! BECAUSE I DO! I SEE IT AND IT STILL GIVES ME NIGHTMARES TO THIS DAY BECAUSE I COULDNT DO ANYTHING TO HELP YOU! I JUST SAT THERE AND LET YOU SUFFER IN SECRET BECAUSE I WAS JUST A CHILD! AND DO YOU KNOW WHO’S AT FAULT WITH ALL OF THIS?! HIM! HES THE REASON WHY YOU SHED EVERY BLOOD, EVERY SWEAT, AND EVERY TEAR! ITS BECAUSE OF HIM I NEVER SEE YOU BECAUSE YOURE BUSTING YOUR ASS AT WORK FOR ME! ITS BECAUSE OF HIM THAT I PLAY LIKE MY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT SO I CAN BE SCOUTED AND EARN MONEY FOR US IN THE FUTURE! HIM! ALL HIM!’

angry tears were falling down his face and you stood up to hold him but he shot up

‘natsu-baby-please calm-’

‘WHO DOES THAT TO A CHILD’

his voice cracked and he hiccuped

‘IT DIGUSTS ME THAT I SHARE THE SAME BLOOD AS HIM AND I AM MADE WITH 50% OF HIM! AND I SEE THAT LOOK IN YOUR EYES BECAUSE I REMIND YOU OF HIM, DONT I? I HATE THAT! HE DID THAT TO YOU!’

you held on to him and tried to tell him to calm down because you knew how distructive he could be

‘I HATE HIM. AND I CANT BELIEVE YOURE TRYING TO CONVINCE ME TO SEE HIM. HOW COULD YOU’

maybe it mustve been the stress from midterms and the competitions but his heart was hammering and he could see nothing but red and feel nothing else but anger running through his veins

‘no, dumpling, youre misunderstanding because i-’

but he swatted your hand away, eyes staring at his shoes

‘i need to get away right now. just- i’ll be at katsuki’s house. dinner was good so thanks’

he mumbled and rushed to the hallway, picking up his gym bag and quickly slipping on his shoes

you ran to the door and held on to him

‘natsu we can talk this out! please! dont go! just stay-’

he shut his eyes to calm himself down before turning and giving you a soft kiss on your forehead

‘ill be back tomorrow. just let me go blow off some steam, kay, ma?’

but he didnt even give you an answer because he was already out the door

--

the walk from his apartment complex to katsuki’s house should’ve only taken nearly 10 minutes but he was so pre-occupied and distracted that he ended up missing the turns and ended up in an unfamiliar street

based on his surroundings, he was in the city but he remained his gaze on his shoes, just walking and walking, not stopping

this caused him to miss the stoplight and he was the only person who continued walking, the shouts and yells from the pedestrians falling deaf on his ears 

but it finally opened up with a loud honking and a bright light that made him freeze in shock until it collided with him, sending him flying and falling unconscious

---

natsu groaned, not because of the pain but because of the bright light

‘oh god, i died and im going to the light’

he mumbled but a frantic shout made his eyes fully open up

‘NO DONT GO TO THE LIGHT! OH GOD! I JUST KILLED SOMEONE!’

natsu turned to the direction of the voice and he jumped then rolled over to get away but indeed, the pain from the collision stopped him

‘ugh’

he groaned and winced

‘hey, hey, you okay?’

the high-pitched voice asked and natsu raised his head to see the boy with orange hair kneeled down in front of him and hands hovering over him

‘i feel,,, ugh’

natsu sniffed and the boy helped him sit up so he could fully look around

‘where am i?’

he asked and the boy shuffled to kneel down beside him

‘japan. sendai. oh, im hinata shoyo by the way! so sorry i hit you with my bike!’

but natsu’s jaw dropped

‘hinata,,, shoyo?’

his eyes widened and he completely forgot about the pain as he stood on his feet, pointing at the tangerine

‘OLYMPICS!’

he shouted and he was getting scared, eyes drifting to everywhere and pacing in circles

‘did i,,,, no, that doesnt happen. damn izuku wouldnt shut up about doctor who. its not possible, just not! right?!’

hinata was now panicked and thought he really messed up the guy in the head because the h/c boy was now walking in circles, murmuring angrily, and face switching expressions every millisecond

‘oh my god, i need to take you to the hospital! i messed you up!’

hinata frantically grabbed his phone but natsu jumped and grabbed the device

‘no. no, its fine. i just-,,,, i dont remember anything’

natsu played and hinata’s eyes got even wider

‘OH MY GOD I REALLY DID SOMETHING WORSE!’

but natsu placed his hands on his idol’s shoulders to calm him down

‘no hospital, no needles, no medics. just,,, call your emergency contact or something’

it was quite funny that the victim had to console the cause of the accident but hinata nonetheless complied and hit the call button

‘your mom?’

natsu asked but hinata shook his head

‘no. my team manager, l/n y/n. she’d know what to do’

but natsu’s brain exploded

‘l/n,,,, y/n?’

my ma?

oh god i really did mess up

this is going to be a whole mess and i can already feel it but yanno what? imma just go with the flow and go through with your guys’ thoughts and ideas so in a way, you can control (??) the story?? idk i really dont know what im doing but i just needed to put this into writing bc ive been thinking about it since i woke up. also, do you think i should write this in a headcanons way or normal writing way?

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x oc #haikyuu x male #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! x oc #haikyuu!! x male #haikyuu!! manager #haikyuu manager #haikyuu au #haikyuu!! au #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu!! fanfic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu angst

[the-hate-keeps-me-warm]

More than a memory

Sorry if this is formatted really horriblly I finished this up on mobile I hope you like this there’s about 2 paragraphs I cut of ruby nerding out

Once they got to Vacuo oscar was sorta unofficially a huntsman now laws are a lot looser here so he’s been saving quite a bit of money from going on missions after team rwby and Jaune came back it was weird they were only gone a month but so much had changed the merge was almost finished he could feel it every day he felt less like himself he didn’t even object when Theodore called him oz anymore he and ruby weren’t as close anymore whatever happened wherever they were changed her he got bits and pieces from Jaune and yang but the others kept quiet he knew that he’d be gone soon so he wanted to leave something for her kinda like proof that they ever met in the first place so he was now standing in a vacuan market at 12 am alone with a lot of lien on him this was probably a bad idea but at one point he heard ruby ramble about this gun shop that they were the best at what they do so he called made an appointment it just so happens they prefer to see let’s just say unofficial clients at night he knocked at the door it read “bikal bullets” it opened and an old owl faunas man opens it his large yellow eyes are piercing “hello mister pine headmaster theodore told me to expect you” oscar rubs his hands together “yes mister bikal he said to come late” mr Bikal leads him inside on the walls hang dozens of expensive weapons “so mr pine what are you looking for” oscar took the blue prints out of his bag and set them down on the drawing table “um im looking for something custom built its for a friend” mr bikal takes the blue prints and examines them “these are pretty impressive mr pine did you draft these yourself theses yourself” oscar nods “mostly i had a little help with the math part of it but the mechanical stuff i did myself” mr bikal nods “something like this will cost a good amount even with the discount you get for being school staff” oscar nods “do you have an estimate on the price and how long it'll take to make” mr bikal snaps his teeth “around 12000 lien and 2 weeks” oscar nods he had 140000 saved up but he did want to buy some more things for the others “alright i can uh i can afford that” mr bikal goes over to what looks like a drawing table and pins them up “i will start work immediately mr pine you make your payment on completion if you desire the school has credit with me the price includes 3 magazines and a case so that will also be custom made shall you pick it up or would you prefer its delivered” oscar stands uncomfortably as mr bikal starts measuring out pieces of fine metal “ill pick it up dont worry” mr bikal nods and says “alright mister pine your can go now its not a good look for a young man to be out so late especially so close to the red light district” oscars face gets red “yes of course” oscar leaves and walks back to the academy sneaking back into his dorm room was easy tho nora did pester him about where hed been he had left a note saying when he would be back for the next 2 weeks he kept a poker face nora helped him set up his bank account so the sudden spending of 12000 lien did give her pause so she decided to ask him about it

He was sitting on his bed reading some Treatise about some long-forgotten subject she knocked on the bedpost and he looks up “hey Nora did you need something” she sat at the end of his bed “hey what did you spend 12 thousand lien on” he hides his face “please don’t tell anyone it was on something for ruby” she smiles “ah young love I was worried that you wouldn’t make your move so what kind of thing sets you back 12 thousand it’s something big right” he nods his head “its a gun i-i had it commissioned for and it’s not really cause I’m trying to make a move or anything it’s more like a going away gift” Nora frowns and shakes his leg “where you going taking a vacation or something” he feels tears bite the edge of his eyes “Nora the merge it’s soon I know it won’t be long until I’m gone and I want you all to remember me but her especially I don’t want to be just a memory” he struggles to keep the tears at bay but nora pulls him into a hug tighter but somehow softer than her usual ones “hey you will never ever be just a memory you will always be you and even if your not you'll always be one of us we all love you so much” and then the damn breaks and he sobs into her shoulder “i don't wanna go away nora i want to live i wanna go to school see my aunt again” she rubs his back and says “i know sweetie you'll get to do all that ok i promise” he sniffles “nora i need you to do something for me if i do disappear ok i need you to go back to my aunt and tell her everything ok it can't be oz ok don't tell her how to find him it won't make sense i'll just hurt worse i dont want that for her” she nods “i won't ever have to do that ok but i promise” she holds him until he stops crying and they take a a a nap they always helped him calm down

Finally, after a long 2 weeks, he goes to pick it up when he goes inside Mr. Baikal shows him the box it’s a beautiful dark red mahogany wood he opens the case and looks at the pistol inside its silvered handle and barrel were beautiful he’s almost afraid to touch it the engravings were perfect exactly as he had drawn them if not better the moon and rose he had designed look perfect he takes it gently in his hands he looks down the sights the night sights glow a brilliant carmine red he looks at the magazine even it was of an amazing quality everything down to the smallest detail was exactly as he pictured it he sets it back into the case “thank you, mister, Bikal it's absolutely perfect” Mr. Bikal smiles and nods “I’m glad everything is to your satisfaction Mr pine if you find there is anything wrong with it or you want something changed everything I make comes with a lifetime warranty the paperwork is in the case as well as a certificate stating that I am in fact its builder” they shake hands and oscar takes it home in his bag he excitedly gets back to his dorm he sets it down still in his bag on his bed now all he have to do is give it to her

He sits on it for a few days but finally decides to just give it to her oz has his reservations about this but decided that oscar deserves this to maybe say goodbye in his own way

Ruby was going on walks around shade it’s something he noticed so he waited for her to go on one of those walks it was cool in vacuo at night the air was nice compared to the oppressive heat of the day she was meandering along the walkways he followed behind her a bit the case hung heavy in his bag even tho it wasn’t heavy at all after a while she sits at an old wooden bench overlooking the gardens he approaches and she perks up “oh hey oscar are you going somewhere” she says pointing to his bag he shakes his head “do you mind if I sit” she shakes her head “no go-ahead did you need to talk, something about Theodore?” he sits down on the other side of the bench gently setting his bag between them “no uh no I just uh I wanted to give you something” he opens his bag and takes the case out holding it out to her she takes it “it’s not my birthday is it this looks really nice you didn't have to do this” ruby says smiling “well i've been wanting to do something nice for you” oscar says rubbing the back of his neck she lifts the top and gasp gently lifting it from its case “oscar this is this is amazing” she drops the magazine and pulls the slide back making sure its clear and runs her hand along the engraving her symbol etched into the left side of the grip “oh thanks i uh actually designed it myself oz helped me with the math” she looks at him her eyes wide “oscar it took me 8 attempts to successfully design a functioning crescent rose gun design is really hard how long did you spend on this” oscar blushes “the idea kinda started in atlas i was gonna ask you to help me make one so i wouldn't have to rely on my cane but everything happen and when you were gone i kept messing with the idea and i kept thinking about you so i kinda ended up designing it for you more than me eventually do you like it” ruby scoffs “oscar do i like it i love it its probably the single greatest gift anyones ever given me” he smiles wide “really that makes me really happy I was worried you wouldn’t like it” she sets it back gently into its case “really Oscar it’s amazing you have a knack for design your gonna have to show me the draft notes and everything cause this is this is amazing I can’t wait to shoot it this is wow” she chokes up and he leans down “ruby are you ok” she nods wiping her face of nonexistent tears “no worries this is just really cool and sweet and god your so amazing” he felt his heart flutter and his cheeks heat up “the guy who built it that bikal guy you talked about was just as great as you always said” she puts a hand on his shoulder “are you telling me Hephaestus bikal made this Oscar” she says seriously “uh yeah why is that bad” she kisses his cheek and squeals “oh my god your amazing this is now even better god I could die happy wait his rates are insane how did you afford this” still recoiling from the kiss he bites his lip “uh huntsmen work” she narrows her eyes “how much did this cost Oscar it had to be expensive” he shakes his head “not telling it’s a gift you don’t need to worry about it just enjoy it” she punches his arm “I will but I am going to repay you for this somehow ok” “you already did” he says quietly he says rubbing the back of his neck “ruby I don’t really know how long I have left and I would like to spend at least some of it with you I understand if you don’t I know it might make it harder when I’m gone bu-whoa” he’s pulled into a hug she pulls his head into her shoulder and holds him tight “I wanna spend more time with you too but you will always be Oscar ok oz is oz you are you” he sighs and smiles “see what I mean by paying me back”

#rwby #rose garden #rosegarden #ruby rose #guns #Oscar pine #angst #this is sadder than I wanted it to be #at first this was gonna be sorta related to my weed garden fic #but the idea of ruby pushing Oscar away after that was too sad #for my fluffy little ass #I wish ruby got to nerd out about weapons more #Oscar is still a simp even if he’s sad #do not ask me about the gun I will elaborate #that is a threat

[octalove]

Back Then

(Batsis/Jason Todd/Dick Grayson)

Description: Reader’s little brother is having some trouble adjusting to his new life. Sad toward the end.

The sun was bashfully hiding behind some thin gray clouds, not unusual for any given afternoon. Leaning against my still-warm black Maybach 57, I tried not to grow impatient. “Maybe he joined an after school activity.” Dick mumbled through the Twix bar I’d picked up for him at the vending machine during lunch. He was sitting in the front seat, with the window rolled down, listening to Adele. I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that Jason Peter Todd would rather be skinned than join an after school activity. Still, though, Gotham Preparatory School for Boys had let out eleven minutes ago, and most of the other boys had gotten into their parent’s cars and sped away to their uptown abodes. Dick and I had come straight from Gotham Academy, punctual as usual, so as to avoid a folly of disapproving glares from dad and Alfred at dinner tonight. Where the hell was that kid?

“Maybe he ran away. Joined the circus.” Dick tried again. “Maybe I’m gonna put you in a circus.” “Back in a circus.” He corrected with a grin. Finally, at 4:15, Jason emerged from the school’s artfully carved wooden doors. His head was bowed, dark hair sticking up in all different directions, brow furrowed. He looked small in his school uniform, plaid socks and disheveled blazer. He hugged a book to his chest. A leathery hand lay on his shoulder, attached to a spindly man in his late 50’s, with receding salt and pepper hair, and golden oval glasses perched on his beak-like nose. I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms, and upon spotting me, the man turned pale as a ghost, just as Jason looked up to reveal a purple bruise under his eye. He snapped his gaze back down. Dick quickly assessed the situation as well, and hopped out of the car, standing equal to me at a solid 5’8, but with all the toned muscle of a gymnast since walking age. We were about to play good cop bad cop- me, the polite, sophisticated elder sister who didn’t want to involve her egregiously powerful father, unless provoked by lack of cooperation, and Dick, the ill-tempered 15-year-old brother ready to raise hell if he didn’t get a good idea of what the fuck happened.

“Headmaster Ellison.” I said tersely, smoothing out my Gotham Academy uniform. I was thoroughly familiar with him from Dick’s days at the prep school- he’d called him Headmaster Hellison, and had a catalogue of grievances as long as his list of unfinished assignments.

“Ah, Miss Wayne. You look lovely today.” I had to steel my face into something vaguely agreeable, because even though it appeared he was the one afraid of me, I was 17 and in a schoolgirl skirt, and something about getting complimented by old men always skeeved me.

“What happened?” I cut right to the point, deciding small talk might soften my resolve, and I was in the mood for this to piss me off.

“Well, you see, we had a small incident today-“

“It’s okay! Can we go home?” Jason piped up abruptly and nervously, eyes pleading with me to let it go. Unfortunately, Waynes skewed toward long grudges.

“Come here, let me see.” I said more softly. Stiffly, Jason trudged across the neatly cut grass, still avoiding my eye. The bruise itself wasn’t bad, but I could tell it had just begun to bloom.

The Headmaster cleared his throat. “Jason has been encountering some problems with some of the other boys. This wouldn’t be the first incident, but it did escalate this time-“

“Not the first incident?” I clipped.

“It never got physical before, just some small verbal altercations that we easily handled.”

“Obviously they weren’t handled.” It was Dick’s turn to interrupt. It always struck me how he could make his voice go from lazily playful to stark and authoritative, biting off words almost as effectively as dad. Who needed Batman and Robin when Y/N Wayne and Dick Grayson were on the case?

“Please, can we just go? I’m okay, honest.” Jason begged, grabbing my hand and tugging just a little. His bronzed face was all swollen and puffy- not just from the fight. I could tell his eyes were rimmed with red. But he looked at me with all the determination and bravado of a street rat from Gotham, and my heart always bled for him in that regard. I sighed.

“Well, I have violin practice here shortly, Headmaster Ellison, so I’m going to take my brother home,” I bit off the brother part with a special zeal to emphasize that Jason Todd, no matter his name or background, was a Wayne, and I was his reminder. “And my father will be calling this evening to handle it once he gets off work.” Work that includes being able to liquidize this whole school right into his bank account in the time it takes to send an email.

“Get in, Jason.” I said. He did.

After a silent ride home, in which Dick tried to coax the full story out of an increasingly moody Jason, we arrived back at the manor whereupon I briefed Alfred, concerned, supportive, and called dad, exasperated, quiet. I let my little brother stew in his room until later that night, when I finally got tired of waiting him out and knocked on the door.

“Jaybird.” I cooed softly.

“…”

“Jay. If I open this door and you’re not there, I will set up the largest manhunt this city has ever witnessed.”

“I’m okay.” A quiet voice called back, sounding annoyed.

“May I come in?” I asked.

“…”

“…”

“Ok.”

I cracked the door open. He was balled up in his window nook, engrossed in a book. The room was dark, and he was reading with a flashlight, which was really unnecessary because he had about a dozen lamps, including a really cool lava lamp that Dick had gotten him. He’d changed out of his uniform and into pants and a hoodie, his hood pulled over with the strings pulled taut. He glanced down at the keys in my hand, narrowing his eyes.

“Come on.” I said.

“Where?”

“You haven’t eaten since you got home, kiddo.” His gaze fell askance. When it came to Jason, food was the way to ensure the answer was yes, whatever the question was.

“Can you bring me back something?” He grumbled quietly after a moment. I shook my head.

“I’m going to Sherman’s. Dine in only. One time offer.” I said with a smile. He frowned.

“I don’t wanna talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce isn’t coming. Just you and me. And we don’t even have to talk.” After some consideration, he pulled himself from his nook and brushed past me on his way out. I grinned to myself. Too easy.

Sherman’s Diner was the finest restaurant experience in Gotham City. The reflection of the neon lights skewed across puddles which danced with the drizzling rain. Fuchsia, cyan, lime green, red. Cracked white tiles and a sign with Sherman himself; a little plump chef man who, despite his jovial countenance and enthusiastic smile, appeared to be weeping tears of rust. Inside, the floor was unswept, the tables a bit sticky from all the no-show teenage staff of the payroll, and one of the lights above a lonely booth flickered. Jason loved it. The waitresses loved him.

“Come on in and sit down, hun, we’ll get ya some coffee!” A blonde woman called from behind the counter. One thing about Gothamites and Diners, black coffee was a 24/7 ordeal; 9pm on a school night was no exception. I let Jason pick the booth- he usually went for the same one, creature of habit that he was. We slid into the cool, torn red leather and neither of us needed to look at the menu. We sipped our coffees quietly for a while- Jason pretending to like it because it was the worldly thing to do. He’d never admit that he only started after he saw that dad and I always passed on sugar and cream.

It seemed our little evening standoff was going to bleed into the night. I took it as an opportunity to show him how patient I could be when necessary. The waitress- Darcy- set down a small slice of Oreo cake on the table. For him. Finally, he sighed, taking a bite of it.

“I hate school.” He mumbled.

“The school? Or the kids?” He didn’t answer. “What happened, Jay? Last week you loved school.”

“I like English.” He offered.

“Jason.” I said, leaning forward and folding my hands on the table. Food hadn’t worked. Patience was out the window. It was time to apply pressure. “If you don’t tell me who hit you, I, on my honor as a Wayne, am obligated to track down every snotty little boy who ever set foot in Gotham Prep and hit their snotty little faces to see how they like it.”

Jason’s lips tugged into a smile, which he fought, and eventually lost. So he hid it behind his cake. But after a minute, his smile fell. Something else crossed his face and he looked out the window.

“I hit first.” He said quietly. Solemnly. I blinked at him, surprised.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Jared Mullins. I hit him first.”

“Why?”

He sniffed, furrowing his brow to try and fool me into believing he was something tougher than a ten year old boy. Maybe he was. Tougher than the likes of whoever the hell Jared Mullins was. “He said…”

I waited.

“He said I was poor. Said I don’t belong at the school. That Bruce only took me in cause he felt sorry for me.”

“Sounds like he deserved to get hit.” I sipped my coffee. He didn’t smile again. A beat passed in its place.

“I don’t know why I hit him.”

“Because it was a stupid thing to say.” He shook his head.

“That’s not it. He was right.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. “Jason! The fuck he was. You know that’s not true.” Alfred would’ve been appalled to have me cuss in front of him, as if it wasn’t a large majority of his vocabulary since before he came to the manor.

“You don’t get it.” He said, eyes glued to the rain on the window. “You’re his daughter. His real daughter.”

“And Dick isn’t his real son?” Dick was usually the one to advise him when his legitimacy came into question, not me. Because in truth, I didn’t understand. Jason didn’t answer the question. A plate of chicken tenders and fries appeared, but they went untouched.

“Look at me please.” He did.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re not dad’s real son. And it definitely doesn’t matter that Jared whoever the hell thinks so or not. Dad took you in because of who you are, and everything you’re going to be. You belong in this family and wherever else you go, because you’re worthy of everything Gotham has to offer- and more.”

Jason’s face crumpled a little before he composed himself, blinking fast and wrestling with the emotion. He didn’t say thanks, but that was thanks enough.

“Hey. Did you see how scared Headmaster Hellison was?” I asked smugly.

A small smile. “Yeah.”

“That’s because you’re one of us. And we scare the piss out of people like him and Jared Mullins. Cause we’re a damn good family.”

Jason smiled at me. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

*

People like us

I watched- all I could do was watch. There was no way in hell I could stop him. The Jason that stood before me was 6’3 and impenetrable. Even if I thought I could get the gun from his hand, I wasn’t going to save anyone. The only thing about himself he kept when he drug himself out of the grave was his stubborn conviction. Anyone he wanted dead would wind up that way.

Scare the piss out of people like him.

The man let out a guttural, desperate noise as he tried to crawl away, pale as a ghost as Jason stood over him. He was a criminal, to be sure, but not one willing to die for his trade. Evidently, that wasn’t enough.

Cause we’re a damn good family.

“Red Hood! Stand down, now.” Batman’s voice snarled, echoing off of the concrete walls and floor. I flinched. Jason didn’t. A single shot, blood spatter, all the rest. His red monochrome helmet was on the ground, black hair all mussed and disheveled from the fight. A bruise was blooming under his eye.

His gaze flicked up, landing on me. Any trace, any remnant of my brother was gone. The man who came back was a dejected, solemn thing, who carried this dark look in his eye and looked like he could eat me whole. I tried to convey something to him with my eyes. It didn’t appear to take effect.

“You’re late to the party.” His voice rumbled in his chest, and he turned his attention to Batman.

I tried not to let my voice shake as I stepped forward.

“We’re here now.” I said.

His jaw clenched at the sound of my voice. Something grim passed his features.

“Yeah. I guess we are.”

#batman #batfamily #batsis #batsis x batfam #batsis x jason todd #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #batsis x dick grayson #batsis x bruce wayne #bruce wayne #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #batsis x batfamily #dcau #batman daughter #y/n wayne #batfam sister #batfam imagine #batfamily imagine #batman and robin

[merrybrides]

How to Tell a Friend You Can't Afford to Be a Bridesmaid

Being asked to be a bridesmaid is an immense honor. It's also a big responsibility that requires a combination of time, energy, and money. Between paying for a new dress, participating in pre-wedding festivities, and taking time off work for the big event, being a bridesmaid can really drain your bank account.

If you just can't make the financial commitment that being a bridesmaid entails, it's important to let the couple know in a way that keeps your friendship intact.

First of all, you're not a bad friend for declining an offer to be a bridesmaid

Participating in a wedding is an exciting experience and can bring you closer than ever to the bride or groom. Needing to prioritize your financial wellbeing over joining the wedding party doesn't mean you're a bad friend, however. And you certainly shouldn't feel that you need to go into debt to prove your affection for the couple.

If you're in a tight financial situation, don't ever feel obligated or forced into accepting a bridal party invitation. Chances are if you're receiving the invitation, then the couple knows you well and there's a close bond present – meaning that they'll understand if bridesmaid expenses just aren't feasible.

The best way to decline being a bridesmaid is to be direct and honest

When it comes to turning down an offer to be a bridesmaid, etiquette experts and wedding planners agree: You need to be honest. If you can't participate in the wedding due to money constraints, that's what you should tell the couple.

The best way to decline is by being sincere, honest and in-person; it's completely okay to keep it short and sweet without going into too much detail. The important thing is to just avoid being too vague. Otherwise, feelings may be unnecessarily hurt.

You may say something like, 'I'm extremely honored that you have asked me to participate as a bridesmaid, but it's just not doable with my budget at this time. I'm so sorry to disappoint you. However, I still want to do everything I can to support you or help in other ways and, of course, attend the wedding.

Have the conversation in person and as soon as possible

Unless you live far from the couple, this is one conversation that you should really have face-to-face. If you can't have an in-person conversation, opt for a video call or phone call rather than sending a text.

Declining the invitation over text or an e-mail, and at the very last minute will almost guarantee that the bride will be offended and hurt.

It's extremely important to contact the couple about your decision as soon as possible. They may want to ask someone else to join the wedding party and dropping out at the last minute is sure to strain your relationship with the couple.

And just in case you need reminding, personal conversations like this one should really be conducted privately.

Involving social media in any way is a huge 'no'. Declining the invitation to be a bridal party member is strictly between you and the couple, not for all your friends to see.

Whatever you do, don't lie or blame the couple for having an expensive wedding

Financial limitations can be difficult to talk about, even with close friends or family. As tempting as it may be to obscure the real reason behind your refusal to be a bridesmaid, it's never a good idea.

The worst way to decline an offer to be a bridesmaid is to be dishonest or give an insincere reason, such as having something especially important to do on the same day.

Making up a sudden family illness or work commitment might seem convenient, but your relationship with the couple will be damaged if the truth ever comes out.

It's also important that you never guilt-trip the couple for your financial woes. That will only put a massive strain on your relationship with them, and it puts everyone in an uncomfortable position.

You don't need to go into detail about your financial situation

Even if you're declining the offer of being a bridesmaid for financial reasons, you don't need to expose your entire financial life to the couple.

Refrain from feeling you need to give a laundry list of financial reasons to validate why you're declining; however valid they may be.

All you need to say is that being a bridesmaid is just not feasible within your current budget, but that you're honored to be asked.

Getting into the gritty details of your credit card bills, upcoming home payments, or vacation savings plan isn't necessary, even if you feel pressured to justify your choice.  

You might want to suggest other ways you might be able to help the couple prepare for their wedding

Just because you can't be part of the wedding party doesn't mean you can't help the couple prepare for their big day.

It's appropriate to offer other means of support, and if anything, it means you genuinely care about being there for the couple in what capacity you can. Don't go beyond your means, but anything from running errands to assisting with smaller planning details will mean a lot.

You can offer to decorate table centerpieces, research local accommodation for out-of-town attendees, or bring healthy snacks for the bridal party before the ceremony. You could also help address invitations as a cost-free way to help with wedding preparations.

#bridesmaids #bridesmaid etiquette

[messiisgodibeliveinhim]

Taeyong

I just wanted to rant about everything that happened. So here I am.

So initially I didn't want to watch the concert because of the obvious lack of Taeyong. But i did watch it (ill*gally) on Twitter Live Stream, to see who would cover for Taeyong and how.

Okay, first of all, is it just me or was there an actual lack of preparation and production for the concert??? Like, compare it to SuperM's Beyond Live. The VCRs, the camera direction, the stage, the AR effects... Everything looked so good and exciting. But for this one, they didn't even try. The production was lacking severely and the AR effects were barely used. Everything looked rushed as if they didnt actually plan it set by set. The VCRs were just all the footages from other videos clamped together. There was nothing new or cool about this Beyond Live, even with the increased price. Overall, it looked cheap. I think, the only saving grace of this online concert were the boys themselves.

Secondly, the boys who covered for Taeyong did a good job. Obviously, no one can come close to even performing and delivering like Taeyong but the boys did fine, considering that they had to practice his parts for only 2-3 weeks. And it's a daunting task to fill such huge shoes. The pressure that the boys felt, especially the newbies Shotaro and Sungchan, to try to fill that gap, must have been immense.

But of course, NShittyzens took this as an opportunity to sh*t on Taeyong, saying stupid things like 'XYZ ate Taeyong up', 'ABC made Taeyong's song his own', 'MNO killed Taeyong's part and I think he should've been part of the original line-up instead of Taeyong', 'I hope my bias gets to shine now', 'My faves really took this "opportunity" and showed the world' etc.... Like??? Are you really that dense or just spewing bs like this cuz y'all want attention??? The same thing happened when Taeyong missed the KBS mid-year festival and the other boys covered for him for Kick It.

If y'all truly believe that you're bias only shines when Taeyong is absent, then it shows how insecure you are about you're faves talents and abilities. If you truly think Taeyong's injury is an "opportunity" for your fave, then there is clearly something wrong with you. If you think you're fave ate Taeyong up in any manner, then it shows that you just hate Taeyong. If you think Taeyong is replaceable, then you're doing piss poor job of convincing yourself. Taeyong doesn't need NCT, but NCT needs Taeyong.

He is not just the leader, but also the main dancer, main rapper, sub vocalist, the center of the group and the face of the group. He has also contributed to the group with over 30 songs and has choreographed for some of NCT songs. He is NCT's idea bank, with the numerous times he has come up with something new and interesting for their concepts or choreography (For Example: The Jungle Gym for Neo City tour, the epic finger move and Mark stepping on Taeyong for the Kick It choreography, the chandelier scene in MAW, etc) . Many professionals have constantly praised Taeyong for his creativity and excellent inputs.

Taeyong was there from the very beginning of NCT and has carried the group on his back for 4 years now. And he has always remained kind and humble, even with all the misdirected hate that he faced for years. He always puts himself down and praises all the members, no matter what. He has juggled between groups, 5 comebacks and numerous concerts, this year alone. His schedule list looks like the Bank Statement of one whole year. The way the man has worked for the past 2 years is insane. And upon that, the burden of being the leader of a group with 23 members??? Can y'all even imagine the amount of weight on Taeyong's shoulders???

And yes, the injuries he has constantly sustained for over 4 years now. We have seen various footages of him having neck braces, holding his waist and limping. He has also talked about the continuous back pain or how he was sick for 3 days after shooting a MV. SM had known exactly the extent of his injuries and still overworked him to the bone. Now his waist disc injury has relapsed and we still dont have a statement on his health or time of recovery on ANY of the SM Official Accounts. Not one word. We had to find out through a platform that's barely used and most non-twitteratti NCTzens didn't know about this whole ordeal until after the concert began.

What boils my blood is that SM knew about the relapsed injury way before, gave the boys enough time to practice Taeyong's part, but announced the concert by advertising Taeyong all over it, last Monday. And they literally only made the announcement after the concert ticket cancelation period was over. F*cking money whores! F*ck SM!!!!

The worst part of it all are the NShittyzens. Most of you didn't care about the fact that SM not only neglected the leader's health but also scammed Taeyong's fans. When TyongFs began to get refunds for the concert, some of you accused them and started dictating what they should do with their own money, pulling sh*t like- 'Taeyong as a leader, wants his group to do well. Now he would be sad knowing that fans dont care about the group cuz y'all are getting your refunds'. Really? Cuz most y'all who said this watched the concert illegally, makes it even more funny to me. And its none of you're business, how anyone else spends their money. And if you think Taeyong cares about SM losing money, then you're just stupid. If it's anyone in the whole group who'd say 'F*ck Capitalism!', it's Taeyong. So STFU!

Also, when TyongFs started demanding an official statement from SM about Taeyong, some of y'all went- "You're just a fan. Y'all dont have any right to cross the boundaries of Idol-Fan relationship and ask for personal stuff. Other artist fans didn't get any official statement, so why should you?'. We didnt ask for his f*cking medical records. We just want a statement from SM's official accounts about his health and his time of recovery. That's it. SM has refused to acknowledge the injuries of other artists before, doesn't mean that this pattern has to continue. And as fans, we are entitled to know about the artist, cuz WE CARE...! Cuz a waist disc injury relapsing aint a small thing. The amount of pain that Taeyong is probably enduring right now.... We dont even know the extent of it. We dont know how long he needs to recover or even how long SM will give him to rest. We don't know anything and we are scared. So just wanting a statement about it, isnt 'crossing the boundaries' as you put it. So again, STFU!

Y'all don't care about Taeyong, fine. The least you can do is respect him and not discredit his hardwork. After everything he has done and continues to do for NCT, y'all keep going with the 'Taeyong is the villain' narrative. He isn't stealing your faves lines or screentime. He isn't pushing them back to 'shine more'. He isnt the bad person you think he is. Y'all rejoicing now that he is injured, happy that your faves got to take up Taeyong's part or just hateful saying your fave was better than Taeyong.... It just ain't it.

No other group leader gets the kinda hate Taeyong does, even though he does 5 times the work for the group than any other leader. Yes, Taeyong has multiple positions the group, all deserved. Yes, he is a very charismatic and an amazing performer on the stage, that lures new fans in. Not his fault that he grabs everyone's attention. Yes, he is very talented in so many aspects. But that doesn't mean you get tobblame you're faves mistreatment on him, cuz he himself is being mistreated by SM. So don't come at me with you're 'SM's golden boy' bs! I will taze your ass and watch supernanny as you crawl under the carpet!

Maybe you're right about how you're faves dont get to shine enough when they're on the same stage as Taeyong, cuz his charisma and aura is very magnetic, you can't help but watch him and him only. I thought only TyongFs have this kinda tunnel vision but apparently, all of you have it as well....

Here's the thing. You don't like it when Taeyong gets praised all the time, whether its his dance or rap or anything at all. Cuz you don't like Taeyong. So why are you even focused on him and TyongFs. If I don't like anything, i simply ignore it. So instead of focusing on Taeyong, focus on hyping up your fave (again, by not dragging Taeyong, not even subtly). It ain't hard, trust me.

At least have the human decency to not rejoice over the fact that he is injured. The sh*t i see online everyday, some of y'all have totally lost it.

And lastly, no one can eat up Taeyong. No one can do his part better than him. Hell, no one can even come close to doing what he does. So get that delusion outta your heads. Its embarrassing.

#Taeyong #Lee Taeyong #Bubu #NCT #NCT 127 #NCT 2020 #Beyond Live #RESONANCE #Kick It #Respect Taeyong #Get Well Soon Yongie #We Miss You🌹 #Take As Long You Want #We'll Wait #Thank You Taeyong #F*CK SM #F*CK NshittyZens #F*CK Taeyong Antis