#trying not to be too hard on myself given that i actually wrote more in june than i did in february

[undershyperfixate]

VERY LONG RANT ABOUT AIDEN.

I apologize for any mistakes, my french ass type fast without paying attention to my grammar because I'm not a native speaker ( writer in that case)

Okay guys I need to know, did I interpret Aiden wrong in this scene?

So I've been reading a LOT of sbg fanfics, (because it's my hyperfixation and it's actually incredibly hard for me to detach or distance myself from it ( my fellow autistic people, y'all get what I mean) )

And I've noticed that in a lot of fics, they make Aiden a bit more clueless(?) like in some fics, he's written as if he actually thought Ashlyn was shy, or that he didn't understand that she didn't like social interaction

But from what I've read in the webtoon, he seems to know? Since the start

Like he always knew she was like that, he just pushed her limits because he wanted to know more about her

After Ashlyn says that, Aiden has this physical response :

This snarky smile guys, he understood that she just didn't want to talk, but knowing that; he purposefully acted as if he just thought she was shy, to trigger a response from her and be able to continue the convo without her being able to counter argue, after all Ashlyn try to keep being polite in refusing to interact with him.

The "you're just shy right?" Sounds sarcastic, and the voice actor in the dub ver encapsulated this exact tone from what I remember.

When he laughs because she runs away, he's not frustrated or shocked, he knew she wanted to leave and thought it was funny how fast she was able to escape the situation

In the canva, he acts like this because he's portrayed as a psychopathic character

But in the webtoon, he's definitely not written like this, BUT and I don't see enough people talk about this, he definitely has some psychotic reactions, his rush for adrenaline feels more than fueled by masked depression( not sure if it's 100% depression, he could have had another disorder in the flashback given), it feels manic, it feels psychotic. And by psychotic I don't mean psychopathic, I mean by the def of psychosis "a severe mental condition in which thoughts and emotions are so affected that contact is lost with external reality." He's not completely psychotic and I don't think Red wrote him with the exact disorder, but I do think he has some symptoms. Multiple of his actions, reactions and behavior feels very out of touch, as if reality didn't exist the same way in his mind, OR I'm confusing that with a cluster B disorder, it feels so familiar as someone with one. But it might just be me projecting or analyzing too hard.

But also, he's still very in touch with reality based on his relationship with the main 6, especially when his actions have consequences on the things he cherishes. it definitely reminds me of the entire thread @stillfrownyclownlol made about him being obsessive with Ashlyn and how it was shown through his way of behaving, fixating ect. Anyway I love ranting and I loved the aiden obsessive rant so It made me realize I had a lot to say about him too.

Sorry again for ranting so much 💕 ( and I hope I tagged the right person because it would be embarrassing if I didn't remember who wrote the Aiden obsessive rant and just tagged someone else).

#sbg (webtoon) #aiden sbg #ashlyn sbg #school bus graveyard webtoon #aiden clark #school bus graveyard #ashlyn banner #sbg #aidlyn #? #undersisranting

[eternalglitch]

Some advice on how to write a long form fic and actually stick with it / survive.

In writing communities, you will hear that there are two main types of writers. Planners/pantsers or architects/gardeners are some of the common names for the types, but basically either you make meticulous notes and plan the entire story out before starting, or you start with an idea and make it up as you go. (Pantsing comes from the phrase "by the seat of your pants".)

Note that these aren't black and white categories; MOST writers will fall in between, but that's normal with most types of things. I started out with a pantser/gardener inclination; I had a cool idea and I posted the first chapter with NO idea where I was going next.

What I learned in that decade of writing was that this will not get you through long pieces of work in a satisfying way. Character arcs are hard to get right, thematical consistency and payoff can happen but it's more luck and chance than your actual skill as a writer. There's always a few geniuses that can do it, but I do not recommend trying to stick to this method alone.

I fall significantly more in between these as a more mature writer after trying and failing at gardening alone. When I posted Like Father Like Son, I went and typed out one bullet point for each chapter I thought I would write. There were 13 planned chapters, so obviously this plan was not accurate – except I have remained true to almost all of the general plot points I had written down in January 2020 at the current time of September 2022. I just expanded on the plot by a significant amount.

As I got used to the tone and got more inspired, I came up with the idea to utilize arcs to break the story down farther. I decided 6 arcs felt right, with a vague idea of what each one would entail, and as I started each arc I would go back in and bullet point what I thought each chapter would be like in more detail. Things still had room to change and grow once I saw where each arc took me, but it is much less daunting to plan 7 chapters at a time instead of 40. It still gave me time to change the little things and have fun seeing where each chapter took me, but it also never left me stranded with no idea where I was trying to swim.

Once I hit the big climax / turning point, which is in Chapter 21: Flatline, I changed tactics a little. I've kept a doc where I write out scenes that I was too excited to wait for, and had accumulated about 20 different little scenes with no order. I put them all on sticky notes and grouped them until I got a clear path, and then I went and solidified the last three arcs in order to get character arcs and themes tied off in a satisfactory way. I had given myself enough time to really think about what I wanted to do, and now that I knew where I currently stood it felt effortless to fill out.

Now. Planning advice aside, how do you actually write a long fic? You will need two main things.

Stamina. This is a skill in and of itself, and unless you have completed at least a novel-length story before, you are new to it! This muscle isn't developed! The best way to throw yourself into training it would be challenging NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) in either November or July. In thirty days, you have to write 50k which pans out to 1,667 words a day. I have challenged and won it twice. I totally pantsed both times, which means I think both novels I wrote are severely lacking in quality, but they absolutely trained me to think on my feet and just push through writer's block. It's grueling and at times painful, but the feeling of crossing the 50k mark on November 30th? That's why I've stuck with writing. Genuinely it is worth doing at least once, you WILL become a better writer even if that piece of work itself is a mess.

Find something you are wildly excited to write in every single chapter. Yes, every single one. You tend to start a story very excited about a few select scenes, but when I start a chapter I try and find at least part of it that I am SO excited to type. This will give you energy and I think people can tell when you actually are enjoying writing rather than slogging through it. Bored of the chapter you're writing? Back to the drawing board, there IS a better way to get from points A to C. Even one chapter I wasn't interested in in between two I loved could make me procrastinate for months instead of just enjoying getting back into the writing.

#glitch speaks #writing advice #maybe this is helpful #maybe not #my writing

[yonezawacastle]

brittle (1/?)

Pairing(s): background Masamune/MC (here named Aya)

This is an excerpt from an unfinished fic I wrote purely for myself, in which the Oshu family adds a tiny new member, thanks to an injudicious act of compassion by Masamune. Things...don't go smoothly.

I've never liked my own writing. I am trying to be less of a perfectionist in the coming year, however, so forcing myself to finally put something longer than a sentence or two out there is part of my commitment to that. Anyway.

-----

The girl’s name means stop. 

This fact bothers Masamune sometimes, when he’s sifting through his papers, and finds the word among the plans and correspondence. The girl’s name is written only in hiragana --とめ -- but the implication of the name, the character that crosses his desk every so often and never fails to stop him, is plain as day given the girl's personal history.

The character 止 carries no trace of softness. It is stiff and unyielding lines, the rightmost stroke an arm stretched in prohibition. Unwanted. Forbidden. No.

It suggests an unwished child, and Masamune knows all about being unwished. 

After all, his eyes are much like her own.

“It’s actually a common enough name,” Aya tells him one night in his annex kitchen, his wife's back to him as she chops vegetables for their dinner. “A lot of families will call their daughter that, if they don’t want any more children. Especially if they have one too many mouths to feed.” 

But Tome had been born to a samurai family. 

_________

In one sense, he must admit, the girl’s name is suitable.

Tome is a brittle, sticklike figure, her bones sharp and prominent in places where Aya insists there ought to be a peachy softness. There is a faintly skeletal quality to the six-year-old, something wholly insubstantial, and sometimes Masamune feels that if he breathes too hard, she might blow away. 

The greatest stiffness, though, is in the way she regards them, in the fragile quiet that suggests she is all too used to being shattered.

Watchful, Kojuro calls her. Both men know this is a polite gloss on afraid. 

(“We rescued her, Masa,” Shigezane says to him once. “Even if we had to make her a hostage to do it.” Masamune watches the uneasy set of the girl’s shoulders beneath Aya’s hands and wonders if they’d rescued her from anything.) 

These first months have made him awkward and clumsy. Masamune has never loved his own body, and now he feels there is too much of it altogether: standing near the girl feels more like looming, and on the vanishingly rare occasions that Tome finds the courage to reach for him, one of his hands easily swallows both of hers. 

“Bend down when you talk to her,” hisses Shigezane in his ear. “Kids like it when you get on their level.” 

He has felt less menacing on the battlefield.

#my fics #slbp masamune #slbp kojuro #slbp mc #slbp shigezane #oc: inaba tome #slbp #samurai love ballad party

[tightjeansjavi]

Endings Create New Beginnings

Burning in a Hopeless Dream | The Prologue: Part 1

(Joel Miller x f!reader)

A/N: I’m actually amazed with myself for writing this as fast as I did. I wrote this as a reader, but this is the prologue for “Burning in a Hopeless Dream” so this is Joel x Gwen but 100% can be read as a reader as well. These two have truly been living in my head rent free all week. I’m so happy I finally have written a prologue for this story that means so much to me. I’ve hinted at Joel, Tess, and Gwen’s initial meeting, but never truly dived into it till now. I also stated this a couple posts back, but Gwen is canonically bisexual.

Happy reading ♡

~word count: 3.0k~

Summary: after losing your lover, and friends of 5 years, you find yourself running straight into Joel Miller, and his partner, Tess Servopoulos. You don’t know it then, but your life is about to drastically change forever.

Warnings: canon typical violence (briefly described but still graphic) death of reader’s lover and friends, mentions of raiders, lots of internal thoughts, angst, trauma, grief, fear, reader throws a knife at Joel’s face, Tess wants to kill the reader (for obvious reasons) Joel uses a fear tactic to get the reader to trust him, Joel is a little mean, Joel empathizes with the reader but also finds her to be useful, Tess isn’t too happy about it, dark themes, no use of y/n no descriptions of the reader (+18) minors dni!

October, 2017 : 14 years after outbreak day

~Do I speak my truth or do I filter how I feel? ~

You still remember the sound of howling wind whistling against your ears. Rain coming down in torrential downpour. Your vision blurred through the sheet of rain, and salty tears. Blood was pounding in your ears. Heart racing in the cavern of your ribcage. Fear. Fear lingered in every corner. Every crevice. Fear was constant. Fear of the unknown. Fear of tomorrow. Fear of losing the ones you loved most. Killing your parents was hard enough as it was. Their screams, their snarls, still haunt your dreams. The dead look in their cold eyes, glassed over. You still remember the sob you let out when it was all over. Surrounded in a pool of your dead parent’s blood. Crimson, flowing like a river. I’m so sorry. You remember whispering through the thick, neverending silence. Why couldn’t they just tell you that they were infected? Why did they hide it from you? You had no choice. It was you, or them. Survive. Survive. Survive.

Run like hell. Run. Run. Run.

So you did just that. You fucking ran. Far. Far. Far from what had been your home for nearly a decade. You had nothing but a worn backpack on your shoulder, and your knife. The handle was carved with your initials. You had no plan. No strategy. Nothing but the thought of survival in your mind. There was no time to mourn the loss of your parents. No time could be wasted.

You ran and never looked back.

A band of misfits is what you called yourselves. Lost souls. Grief stricken by the cordyceps. 5 friends. 5 human beings that deserved so much more than the world had given them. Five children, forced to grow up. Forced to survive. You were all family. Bonded over your own losses. 5 survivors, 2 unbeknownst lovers.

5 years of friendship. 5 years of love. All ripped away from you one cold, rainy, October morning.

You never experienced love like this, till you met her. It was just a crush, at first. Stolen glances, hidden smiles. Fingers brushing, eye contact, soft breaths. Skin set aflame. You’d do anything to keep her safe. Even if it meant risking your own life, for the sake of her own. How would you feel if you knew that trying to keep her safe would be in vain. Hours before your life as you knew it would drastically change, you were out patrolling with your lover. It happened all so fast. The clicker charged, knocking you to the frost covered grass. Your ears were ringing, pain shot up your spine, wind knocked from your lungs. Your knife was out of your grasp as you screamed. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.

You waited for the inevitable moment for your life to end. It never came. Your lover ripped the clicker from your fallen body, screaming as she tackled the creature to the forest floor. Her own knife buried deep in the jugular. Blood spurting across her face. It happened in a blink of an eye. She was bit. She was bit as the clock ticked. Tick tick tick. She was bit, but reassured you she wasn’t as she offered you her hand, pulling you up gently.

“Are you bit?” You frantically asked her. You hugged her so tightly. The fear of losing her was becoming all too real.

“I’m not bit baby. I promise. I’m not bit.” She lied. Kissing you softly, holding your face gently in her palms. Thumbs lightly brushing your cheekbones, eyes fluttering shut.

You believed her.

The raiders were closing in fast. 20 men. 20 violent men. 20 men with only one thing on their minds. Kill. Kill. Kill. Cordyceps weren’t the only thing to fear in this post apocalyptic world. The biggest fear of them all was man. You were outnumbered with a slim to none chance of surviving. Little weapons, and no plan. No escape, and death on the horizon. You felt like you had let them down. Your friends. You let them down. You let her down.

“Listen to me. You fucking run. You run like hell. Do you hear me? You run, and you don’t look back.” She was holding you by the shoulders, fingers trembling, hands shaking. Her time was running out and you had no fucking clue.

“What? No! NO! I’m not leaving you. I’m not fucking leaving you! I’m not leaving them!” You yelled through the howling wind, using the thick evergreens as cover. You could hear shouting in the distance, gunshots. Screams.

Her fingers tightened their hold around your shoulders. Tears blurred her vision as you quickly began to brush them away. She was studying your face in those last moments together. She wanted to remember every detail of your face. Every last detail. “We’re outnumbered! If you don’t go now, you’ll die! You protected us for this long. You did so well baby. So fucking well. Now, you go before it’s too late!”

“Come with me. Please. Please come with me. I’ll keep you safe. I promised you I'd keep you safe!” Your own tears were blurring your vision. Your fingers trembled along her cheekbones, forehead pressed against hers.

“I’ll only slow you down. I’ll only become a burden. You’ll die if I come with you. I have to give you the best fucking chance you got. I’ll distract them. I’ll keep you safe. You have to let me go. You have to survive, okay?” She wanted to tell you. It was on the tip of her tongue. I'm bit. I’m dead regardless. Bullet to the skull, or torn apart. I’m long fucking gone. She wanted to tell you. She kissed you instead. Crushing her lips against your own. Tasting the mix of your salty tears on her tongue. You held each other close as the wind howled, and the rain pelted down around you.

Her lips soon detached from your own, pushing you away. It sent daggers through your chest as her hands roughly shoved you from her. You were shattered.

“GO! GO NOW! RUN! FUCKING RUN!” She screamed as you scrambled to your feet, boots sloshing in the muddy earth.

She pushed you further, and further away. You took one last look at your first love. One last look, one last goodbye, before you turned on your heel and ran like hell.

Your heart screamed at you to turn back around as you heard her blood curdling scream pierce through the storm. Your feet only carried you faster as the wind whipped through your ears. Bullets whizzed past your head, chipping away at bark along the trees.

Run. Run. Run.

Your lungs were on fire, adrenaline pumping through your veins, blood pounding in your ears. Your muscles were strained, screaming at you to stop. The shouts became distant till they were no longer detectable. You kept running. You didn’t stop. You kept going until you stumbled upon two strangers that would change your life forever.

You didn’t think twice as you threw your knife at the man's face. The blade whizzed through the pounding rain and fierce wind. Your blade struck home. Slicing through the man's brow. The skin was thin, delicate, and easy to cut. He barely registered the knife whizzing past his face. He felt his blood trickling down his brow, and weathered cheek. It happened in a blink of an eye.

I’ll fucking kill you! You remember the woman beside him screaming through the harsh wind. Her gun cocked in your direction. You had no weapon. No plan. No escape. You waited for the moment a bullet would strike through you. You waited for the echoing gunshot. You just hoped death would be quick. You didn’t want to suffer. Please don’t let me suffer.

The bullet never came.

“Are you crazy Joel?! She just tried to fucking kill you, and you want me to spare her?! She threw a knife at your face for fuck sakes!” The woman yelled at him as he demanded her to lower her gun.

“Lower your gun, Tess. Lower your fuckin’ gun!” The man yelled.

Good. They were distracted. Now was your chance to escape. Now was your chance to run till your legs would inevitably give out.

Joel pushed his partner firmly back with his arm. His eyes were locked on hers, brows furrowed. His attention turned to you. He wasn’t sure why his smidge of humanity decided to show up now. Why didn’t he let Tess kill you? You tried to kill him. It would only be fair if she stuck a bullet between your eyes. You looked like you had been through hell. Alone, frightened, and all the more lethal. Determined to survive, no matter what it takes.

You took a few timid steps back. Your eyes were brimmed with fear. This man was going to kill you, you were absolutely certain of it. This was it. You weren’t going to be able to escape. You could try and overpower him, sure. Who were you kidding? This man could snap you like a fucking twig if he wanted.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you.” You heard him say. His arms were held up, showing you that he didn't have any weapons. Showing you that he wasn’t an immediate threat.

You scrambled back when he got too close. Slipping in the muddy grass as you fell to the forest floor. You quickly pushed yourself along your elbows, using the adrenaline you had left to try and escape.

“Hey, listen to me. I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Even if I was, you wouldn’t be makin’ it out of here in one piece.” His southern drawl was deep, and his cinnamon brown eyes were warm. You expected them to hold a cold stare on your trembling form. Instead, they held pity? Sorrow? Empathy?

You let out a scream when his boot pressed down on your ankle firmly. He didn’t do it to hurt you. He did it to try and ground you.To stop you from making a fruitless attempt to scramble away. It made you feel like a cornered animal. He thought you had some serious guts to throw a knife at his face like that.

“Get away from me! Get away!” You seethed through your teeth as you tried to free your ankle from under his heavy boot.

“Stop tryin’ to fuckin’ fight me and I won’t kill you, girl. You ain’t got any weapons. Nowhere to run. You won’t make it very far.” The man crouched down to your level, lowering himself on one knee while his boot stayed heavily planted over your ankle.

“Fucking kill me then! Get it over with. You’d be doing me a huge fucking favor if you did.” You let out a choked laugh that sounded more like a strained sob.

“Are you bit? Hurt anywhere? What the hell were you runnin’ like hell from?” The man asked as his eyes locked on yours, brow raised.

“I’m not fucking bit.” You hissed. “Men. I was running from fucking men. A group of raiders. 20 strong, and heavily armed.” Your breath was shaky as your eyes stayed locked on his. Blood was still trickling down from the fresh cut along his brow. The man didn’t seem to care about the open wound. He held the least bit of concern for the blood dripping down his face.

“Raiders? Were you in a group? How many?” He was offering you his hand to take. You refused. You didn’t want his help.

“Five, including myself. They’re all dead.” You deadpanned.

“Lone survivor, huh? Gotta say, you have one hell of an aim darlin.’ You wanna live another day? Take my fuckin’ hand. I’m only gonna offer it once.” The man sternly spoke as he held his outstretched hand to you.

You wearily looked over his shoulder at the woman, who you assumed was his partner. She looked furious. You met his gaze once more. “She wants me dead.” You stated the painful obvious.

“She does.” The man said with a slight nod of confirmation.

“Why won’t you let her just kill me?” It was a fair question to ask.

“Cus’ anyone that’s got the fuckin’ balls to throw a knife at someone’s face like that, deserves to live another day. You didn’t even hesitate. Feel like it would be a waste to let someone with that kinda grit die. I suggest you take my hand. Those raiders are still probably out there, and they’ll do far worse than just kill ya. Trust me, I used to be one. So was she.” He gestured to Tess who was standing close by. “You think they’ll kill you fast? Oh, no. They’ll torture ya first. You’re a pretty thing too, so then they’ll have their way with you. They’ll be rough, unforgiving, and you’ll be on deaths fuckin’ doorstep by the time they’re finished with you. You’ll be beggin’ them to kill you, and they won’t. You’ll suffer if they get a hold of ya. Her and I? We’re not good people. We’ve done bad things, but I ain’t ever put my hands on a woman. I ain’t like them. If you still choose to die, I'll make it quick, painless. You won’t feel a damn thing. Or, you swallow your fuckin’ pride and take my hand. Your choice.” This was Joel’s final offer.

His words weighed deep in your brain. You could choose to not take his hand, run like hell, only to be captured by those monsters that called themselves men. Or, you could take his hand and live another day.

You found yourself reaching for his hand without a second thought. Your clammy palm wrapped around his rough calloused ridden one.

“Atta girl.” He gently helped you to your feet. “I’m Joel, and the woman over there that wants to kill ya? That’s Tess.”

All you could do was meekly nod. You still couldn’t understand why a total fucking stranger was sparing your life.

“You have got to be out of your goddamn mind, Texas. We are not about to fuckin’ take this girl back with us after she tried to fuckin’ kill you.” Tess was shooting daggers at you, arms crossed over her chest.

So, he was from Texas.

“We’re takin’ her with us. Don’t care what you have to say ‘bout it. Ain’t gonna leave her out here to die. Besides, she’s got guts. She might be a good asset for us.” Joel attempted to reason with his partner and spin this in his favor.

Oh, so he was totally doing this for his own benefit. Like you were some pawn..to their operation? Whatever the hell that was.

“Yeah? So when she tries to fuckin’ kill us in our sleep, you gonna still let her live?” Tess scoffed.

“She even attempts to kill one of us, I'll let you kill her. Sound like a good deal to ya? Bullet between the eyes, slit her throat, break her bones. However you wanna do it, but only if she tries to kill us.” Joel wanted to instill fear in you from his threat. He was dead serious. You could tell just from his tone alone. This was no game to play.

“Fine. You hear that, girl? You fuckin’ try anything on us, and i’ll gouge those pretty eyes out of your fuckin’ skull.” Tess sneered.

An unpleasant chill traveled down your spine at her words. You weren’t sure who to be more afraid of. Joel, or Tess.

You averted making eye contact with Tess as you grabbed your knife from the forest floor, tucking it into the holster around your thigh.

“You ever been to a QZ?” Joel asked you as his partner walked ahead of him.

“No. Never been to one.” You adjusted the strap of your backpack along your shoulder, following his lead through the dense cover of evergreens.

“Well, it's a complete shit hole. FEDRA fucks in almost every corner. Word of advice, don’t get yourself thrown into lockup. Anyway, Tess and I are smugglers. We bring in all kinds of shit. Weapons, drugs, supplies. You fuckin’ name it. Risky business, but we’ve grown quite a reputation. No one fucks with us, usually. You’ll earn your keep eventually. I imagine you’ve got a lot more to offer than just a pretty face.”

You wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at his remark. You refrained only due to the fact that you presently owed your life to this man.

“You ever get thrown in lockup?” Your eyes were locked on his back as you trailed behind him.

“Couple times. Got most of those dickheads wrapped ‘round my finger. Helps when you’re bringin’ pills in. Who taught ya how to throw a knife like that?” He glanced over his shoulder at you. He half expected you to run by now. He was pleasantly surprised to see that you hadn’t. Smart girl, he thought to himself.

“I did.” You responded with zero hesitation.

“No kiddin?’ You just picked up a knife one day and threw it? Bullshit. S’alright. You don’t gotta tell me your secrets or nothin.’ I’m pretty good at keepin.’ to myself anyway. Never caught your name though darlin.’

“Yep.” You mumbled.

“Ah. Wanna remain mysterious, huh? Like I said, I ain’t gonna pry. You’re probably a bit shell shocked anyway. We got an apartment in the QZ. It ain’t much, but by the looks of you..probably a hell of a lot better than what you’re used to.”

You were shell shocked. It was written all over your face. You had lost the one person you truly loved, lost your friends, and escaped death twice now. Joel didn’t need to know all of that. He just could see right through your defensive facade, and you fucking hated it.

“S’alright darlin.’ We all got our own skeletons in our closets, and I know a survivor when I see one.” He murmured softly.

What skeletons did Joel have in his closet? You couldn’t help but wonder.

Tag List: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @yuly @soft-cryptids @dinsdjrn @myrealmofchaos @itskenziebb @lovers-liability @korynnekorynne @ems-alexandra @kirsteng42 @casssiopeia @novemberrain-writes @goodwithcheese @loquaciousferret @sarahhxx03 @777-wonders @bonglorddaryl @mirasantidotes @luvrking @finnsbubblegum @last-girl @pedrostories @yazsos @pedgeitopascal @wildemaven @sourccream @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @amanitacowboy

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us imagine #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou hbo #joel miller story #tess servopoulos #burning in a hopeless dream #tight jeans javi #dark joel miller #joel miller fanfic

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

Yandere Mom!Wanda trying to kidnap Reader from another universe, because she misses her baby pleaseeee

I love that!

Baby Mine (Yandere Mom!Wanda Maximoff x Reader) (Potential MoM spoilers ahead! Read at your own discretion!)

*Not my GIF

Summary: Wanda had long accepted that she wouldn't be able to get her children back, yet she refused to accept having no one to love.

You had long accepted that you would always be the outcast of your family, yet you refused to accept that there was no hope.

What happens when she spies you whilst viewing other universes?

(CW: Potential ableism, (I'd like to make it autistic and non-autistic inclusive if I can. It could be read as the reader being autistic, having severe trauma, or both because quite a few trauma symptoms overlap with some autism symptoms) self-harm, abuse, yelling, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, MoM spoilers, (sorry, I forgot to put this as a content warning, please don’t hate me am fragile nugget)

Author's Note: Someone wrote a reply to my "Wanda's your next door neighbor" imagine that they "totally haven't reread it a concerning amount of times." And it makes me realize just how many of us use fanfics to fill the voids in our lives....(fuck, now I'm tearing up) So while yandere fics aren't usually supposed to be a good thing, I think taking the reader from an abusive family to give them the love they deserve may be the exception.

I'm also bringing in another character or two.

“Baby mine, don't you cry Baby mine, dry your eyes Rest your head close to my heart Never to part, baby of mine.”

Wanda wakes up in her little cabin, alone as always. Her face is stained with tear tracks. Billy and Tommy had appeared in her dreams again, and while she missed them terribly, she'd given up her search.

"Know that they'll be loved..."

She knows.....yet it doesn't fill the hole in her heart.

After spending some more time in bed, she gets up and gets dressed before making herself some tea with her breakfast. Everyday just seems to drag on now that she's resigned herself to this fate. And yet, there's still this little spark of hope that she may find something or someone to love, someone that she won't lose.

With that little spark of hope, she goes about her day until she decides to use some magic to view other universes. It's not necessarily dream-walking, it's more like just being an observer without leaving the universe you're in.

For some time, she comes up empty-handed. But suddenly, she spies....someone.

===========

"Ah!"

You cry out as your mother confronts you with your report card.

"What is this?" she snaps, practically punching it with her finger.

You look to see that B+ in Science, sticking out of the sea of As like a sore thumb.

"It's....it's a B+," you say.

"Yeah, a B+."

"It's.....it's still passing...." you defend weakly.

"It's barely passing!" she snaps. "You're not applying yourself. You need to stop being so lazy and actually try for once in your life!"

"But....but I--"

"SHUT UP!"

You wince as her voice punches your ear drums.

"I didn't raise you to be a lazy brat! Are you even studying?"

"I-I am....but I still don't understand--"

"I don't want to hear your excuses."

She huffs.

"I give you a roof over your head, clothes to wear, food to eat, and all I ask is for you to do well in school and help out around the house. I don't think that's too much to ask, but how do you repay me? By sitting on your ass all day doing fuck-all! Do you know how hard I work to raise you all by myself?! And where were you?! You didn't come home on the normal bus!"

"I-I was staying back to get help for Science," you reply meekly.

"Liar!" Your mother snaps. "You were out with some punks, weren't you?"

"No! I wasn't, I promise."

"Likely story."

Suddenly your mother pinches down on your ear and yanks you up to your room.

"Ungrateful, useless brat! Stop that whimpering or else I'll give you something to cry about."

She drags you to your bedroom and pushes you inside to the ground before throwing your backpack at you as well, hitting you in the back. The textbook corner in your backpack hammers on your spine and you wince.

"Stay in here and study, you stupid bitch."

She loudly slams the door shut before you hear a click. She's locked you in. After a few minutes, you sit up weakly and sit on your floor. The tears fall silently as you bite down on your arm.

"Every day...." you squeak as you rock on the floor. "Every day I hope for someone to take me away from this hell hole....I don't know how much longer I can take this....someone....please help me...."

=======================

Wanda's heart breaks and the tears fall down her face at the sight of you. A poor, sweet child who wants to love and be loved only for that wretched woman to degrade and abuse you. She doesn't deserve you. In that moment, Wanda's mind is made up. But unfortunately you're in another universe.

She'll need to call in some back-up. And she knows just who to summon.

=======================

America Chavez has her eyes on a fellow sorceress in Kamar Taj, distracting her from her studies. Her heart flutters at the girl's smile, her stomach fills with butterflies at the song that is her laugh. And this is the first time she's actually felt a bit shy, something completely new to her. She's never been shy.

But today's the day she's gonna talk to her.

"Okay, America," she whispers to herself. "You can do this. Just go up to her and start a conversation. It's not that complicated."

She takes a deep breath before approaching her.

"Um, hey," she says, trying her damnedest to push down her nerves. "I....I've seen you in lessons before and, uh, I'm-I'm America Chavez."

The girl smiles at America.

"Oh yeah, I've seen you too. I'm Titania Phillips, like the fairy queen in A Midsummer Night's Dream."

The two of them just stand there for a bit in silence.

"Say something, America!" her mind snaps at her. "You can do this."

"So, uh," she begins. "Do you like.....stuff?"

Titania giggles.

"Yes, I do in fact like stuff. What sort of stuff are you referring to?"

"Girls?"

It just....bursts out of America's mouth, causing her cheeks to turn scarlet.

"Oh, you're lesbian too?" Titania asks. "I thought it was just me."

"Score!" America squeals internally as she nods. "Okay, now just ask her if she wants to eat lunch or something."

"Umm...." Titania says. "You can stop nodding."

America realizes that she's become a human bobble head and grasps the sides of her head to stop herself.

"Sorry," she chuckles. "So, um, you maybe wanna get lunch or some--?"

Her words are cut off by a grip on her mind. A few seconds later, she finds herself in an unfamiliar house. Something closes behind her and she turns around just in time to see a star-shaped portal close completely.

"Seriously?!" she exclaims.

"America."

A voice hits her ears, one she hasn't heard in a while. She turns to see the last person she'd expect to see.

"W-Wanda?!" she exclaims. "I-I thought you---."

The Scarlet Witch chuckles bitterly.

"You really think it’d happen so easily?"

America blinks a bit.

"What even happened?" she asks. "I was trying to talk to a girl in Kamar Taj."

"And how was that going for you?" Wanda asks, almost knowingly.

"....I was dorky as hell," the teen lesbian mumbles under her breath, glancing down at the floor.

Hearing this Wanda giggles.

"Don’t worry, you’ll get more confident around her. Maybe she'll even be your first kiss."

"Okay, pushing my love life aside, how and why did you bring me here?"

"I had to take control of you for a moment, make you summon a portal to me."

"You...you're not gonna....are you?" America begins to panic.

"No, I'm not," Wanda assures her. "I brought you here in desperate need of your assistance."

"With....what?"

Wanda takes a deep breath.

"Follow me."

She takes America to her universe-viewing room and conjures up what she saw earlier.

"I found a child."

"I thought you gave up on finding the twins."

"I have," she confirms. "But this one's different. Take a look."

She replays the footage and America feels her heart break.

"Holy shit...." she gasps. "What kind of monster treats a kid like that?!"

"Apparently that child's mother. They're in another universe, though. That's where you come in. I need you to make a portal to their universe."

"You're taking them from their family?!"

Wanda nods.

"It's for the best. No child deserves that sort of barbaric and cruel treatment."

Hearing this, the teen is torn. On one hand, she saw how you were being treated, but on the other hand, that's your family. And yet she heard you say how it's an every day occurrence. She can only imagine how little you have to hang onto.

With this thought in mind, she nods.

"Okay, I'll help you. When should we go get them?"

"When it's nighttime in their universe," Wanda answers. "I'll need for you to just wait around a few hours."

"But...Titania..." she whimpers.

"You can talk to her all you like when this is over. Now would you like me to make you some tea?"

"Um....I'm good, thanks." America shivers at the memory.

"I'm really gonna need therapy for that."

=========

It's now 12 am in your universe and your eyes are stinging from all of the studying, but you're so scared that your mother is gonna burst into the room and yell at you some more. And yet....you feel like that's what you deserve.

You hear your stomach grumble and feel the immense ache. You didn't get dinner that evening. How could you when your momster locked you in your own bedroom?

"What's the point?" you sigh as you throw down your textbook, not realizing how loud it is. "I'm never gonna be good enough....I should just sleep on it."

You put on some worn and scratchy PJs and get ready to tuck yourself in your uncomfortable bed when you hear the click of the lock. You begin to panic as the door slams open loudly.

"What are you doing?!" Your mother snaps. "I didn't tell you you could stop studying."

"I need sleep," you tell her.

"Don't you dare talk back to me!"

"But--"

"I said don't talk back!"

You put your hands over your ears and begin rocking, scrunching your eyes shut. Not a moment later, your hands are yanked away from your ears and pinned down.

"Don't you dare ignore me! Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you, you worthless mistake!"

Pinning down both hands with one, she raises her free hand, ready to smack you. You can't take this anymore and at that moment, you scream out in agony.

"SOMEBODY SAVE ME PLEASE!"

All of a sudden, your mom lets go of your hand and you hear her cry out before a loud bang reaches your ears. You open your eyes to see your mom on the floor with her back against the wall.

"Get your hands off of that child." A voice you don't recognize, one with an accent, growls at her.

Your mother is too stunned to speak. You look over to see a woman with red hair in a red and black outfit. Next to her is a girl with black hair wearing a denim jacket. The red-haired woman nods to the girl and the girl approaches you while the red-haired woman goes over to your mom.

"C'mon," she tells you. "We're here to get you out of here."

You're extremely hesitant, but the girl insists.

"We're not gonna hurt you, we promise."

All of a sudden, you hear your mother scream in fear. Looking over, you only just see her eyes glow red before she curls up in the fetal position in fear. The red-haired woman approaches you.

"It’s going to be alright, sweetie," she tells you. "We promise we won't hurt you."

You're still very hesitant and the red-haired woman sighs, as if she knew this was how you would react, but it's not in an impatient way. All of a sudden, a red wisp seems to emerge from her hand and enters through your ear. You see a brief flash of red before you fall asleep.

==============================

The first thing you notice when you come to is softness. Softness all around you.

Opening your eyes, you find yourself somewhere unfamiliar and you get a bit anxious.

"Hey, it's okay, sweetie."

You hear a gentle voice near you. Looking up, you see the red-haired woman sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. She’s now in casual clothes. You panic a bit.

"Please...don't hurt me..." you whimper.

"I would never hurt you," she assures you. "Never."

She reaches out her hand to you and you flinch.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” she says to you softly.

“Are....are you gonna hit me?” you stammer.

“Never,” she tells you. “I promise I will never hit you.”

You’re silent for a bit, tentatively taking ahold of her hand after several minutes. She gently rubs the back of yours with her thumb.

“Where....where am I?” you ask.

“You’re in my house,” she tells you.

“How did I get here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“And why am I here?”

You hear her sigh again. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimper.

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweetie,” she assures you. “It’s just, it’s difficult to explain without startling you. The important thing is that I brought you here because I heard your pleas to be taken away from that place. No child should ever be treated like that. You deserve love and kindness.”

“N-no I don’t.”

“....I know it’s difficult to believe considering how long the abuse has been happening for, but I promise it’s true. You deserve to be loved, and that’s why you’re here. I want to be your mother.”

You hear this and you’re in disbelief.

“H-huh? Is...is this a dream?” you ask.

She smiles softly.

“No, it’s not a dream. It’s very real, sweetie. I truly want to be your mother. I want to love you and take care of you.”

Your eyes begin to water.

“I....I don’t have to go back there, right?”

She shakes her head.

“No, never. This is your home now, you’ll always be loved here.”

You let a small squeak escape your throat and your lip quivers before you weep. You lean forward and hug your new mother.

“Thank you....” you cry, feeling a wave of relief. “Thank you....mom...”

It feels odd, and yet comforting, to say that.

She hugs you in return and rubs your back gently.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just let it out. It’s okay to cry,” she assures you. “I’m here. Mommy’s here.”

Her love for you grows the longer you two hug. It’s been so long since she’s had someone to care for, and now she has you. You’ve given her a reason to keep going, just by being with her. You truly are a sweet child, now her sweet child; so loving and kind and hopeful.

And Wanda wants nothing more than for you to stay that way.

See....what you don’t know is that you aren’t the only person/thing Wanda had America help retrieve. Unbeknownst to her, Wanda had her retrieve an extremely-powerful elixir; a single dose stops aging, assures complete immortality, and fully protects from all deadly diseases and injuries. She injected a dose into you while you were asleep before injecting herself with a dose. 

Not only that, but she’s also placed a barrier around the island. Just enough for you to explore, but not stray so far from her. On top of that, she’s placed an enchantment on America and made sure to disguise it, in case Strange and Wong notice something’s up; it’s to summon her back in case she needs something for you. She’s not going to take her powers, no, but she still wants to make sure that she has what she needs to take care of you.

Yes, you; her precious child.

She won’t let anything or anyone hurt you.

All you’ll know is love from now on.

And no one will ever take you away from her.

She’s made certain of that....

“From your head to your toes (Baby mine) You're so sweet, goodness knows (Baby mine) You are so precious to me Cute as can be Baby of mine Baby mine Baby mine.”

#yandere wanda maximoff #yandere wanda maximoff x reader #yandere wanda maximoff x autistic!reader #america chavez #autistic reader #marvel yandere #avengers yandere #wanda maximoff #cw multiverse of madness spoilers

[genericpuff]

I got 3 questions for you

1. So, if persephone can do bad things and get a reward for it, does it mean you can say the same argument for apollo when he SA persephone but he the bad guy for likely persephone and hate hades?

2. Why does everyone still talking about Apollo SA persephone like it 2 weeks ago and not 10 years ago(like it said) plus persephone may or may not forgotten about it? 

3. Will you change all the females (not all them tho, but) hairstyles or keep them same because I'm very tired of the same slick back and slick side, it's not that I don’t hate them or anything just it doesn't have unique to the hair like persephone having flowers on hair ( sorry, it hard for me trying to explain).

aight let's do this

1.) this is a question that comes up a lot because it helps us observe the morality line in LO and how it's applied effectively (it is not). one does have to wonder why we're supposed to root for Persephone but condemn characters like Minthe. one has to wonder why people will use "well greek myth was fucked up" as a defense of LO but then still expect people to take the SA plot seriously when SA is something that happened all the time in greek myth. this isn't to say things like the SA shouldn't be taken seriously, they ABSOLUTELY SHOULD, but then the comic will ask us to not think too hard about persephone abusing a lower class person. tl ; dr: lore olympus can't pick a lane and it shows in how it expects us to root for some characters and trash on others even though they've both committed similarly-heinous acts.

2.) i'm gonna apologize in advance because i'm really gonna like, come at you here, but this question comes across as very victim-blamey. I get if that wasn't your intention so I'm not gonna drill into you too hard, but that's often used as an argument for SA victims to just "get over it". There's no timeline as to when or how long it should take for a victim of SA to heal from what happened to them. Speaking candidly an SA victim myself, I still struggle with sex as an adult because of how much it affected me when I was younger (especially considering it happened when I was still in my formative years, like my brain straight up wasn't done developing yet so that had lasting effects that I still feel today). People are still talking about it, not because Persephone seems to have forgotten about it, but because Rachel herself clearly wants the narrative and her own audience to forget about it, as it's the one plotline she clearly never intended to write.

And when I say she "never intended to write" I mean that literally, apparently when she first uploaded the assault episode she didn't even put a trigger warning because she legitimately didn't see what happened as assault. So she quietly retconned it by adding the trigger warning and later expanding on the plotline through Eros explaining to Persephone what happened. Which wasn't necessarily the wrong thing to do, I think that initial conversation with Eros is quite meaningful in getting across that being nagged into sex =/= consent, but it's become abundantly clear that Rachel is just pretending this was her plan all along, when the proof in the narrative and writing shows that it never was. You can't just throw in an SA plot for drama but it's very clear that's what Rachel's using it for and that's where the criticism lies when people talk about Persephone's progress - the comic tries to convince us she's "over it" but we've never actually seen her side of things, we see more screen time and backstory given to the assaulter's POV (Apollo) and the POV of the friends of the victim (Hermes, Artemis, Hades, etc.) than we do from the actual victim (Persephone).

I hope that makes sense? The ten year time skip in and of itself isn't the problem, the problem is that Rachel wrote in a 10 year time skip that she clearly never planned out so she could get Persephone's AOW punishment over with ASAP and so she could artificially retcon things on a whim by inserting them as flashbacks. Rachel doesn't use flashbacks as an actual narrative device, she uses them as a crutch so she can patch together things as she comes up with them because she hasn't written out an actual story. And there's no single plotline that demonstrates that more than the SA plotline.

3.) I'm definitely trying to have fun with the hairstyles, the way the hair is done in LO just goes to show that Rachel only knows how to draw 3 faces LMAO That said, I'm also trying to keep it within the design choices of the original comic as much as possible, so aside from new characters (such as Dionysus and Charon) I won't be changing things too much, just enough to make them feel fresh but still recognizable (ex. Persephone's mid-length hair when she cuts it at Hades' house).

#ama #ask me anything #anon ask me anything #anon ama #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus

[blazehedgehog]

ICYMI: My Sonic Frontiers Criticism/Essay Is Out Now

So here's the last four months of my life come to fruition: the longest piece of edited criticism I've ever put on my Youtube channel, clocking in at just over an hour. For those of you that may be new around here, I am pretty against making long videos. I don't know if I overthink things too much or what, but it's rare for me to have much tolerance for feature-length reviews of things. They can wear me out just watching them, and it definitely wears me out to make them.

But sometimes you just have a lot to say. And I didn't even necessarily say everything I could have said here; there were things I would have added if not for the looming deadline proposed by the video sponsor. That's not a complaint -- sometimes you need someone else to tell you "be done by this date or else." Limitations foster creativity and toiling away at perfection can sometimes be just as toxic as crunch.

What I was trying to say is it's a big video, and it was hard keeping everything straight in my head because there was so much. One of those times where I was glad how I planned things out in advance, because sometimes the thoughts you had four months ago are not the same thoughts you have today, and the thoughts from four months ago were better.

It's already proving to be a bit of a divisive video, given I am going against the grain here. But I'm a big boy. I've spent time on the front lines of these sorts of things before. I know how to handle myself. I mean, half the reason I started my tumblr back in the day was pointing out some of the truly deranged takes I'd get in the replies to my Sonic 06 video.

Though I do worry. I'm getting a lot of people who are... politely declining to tell me what they think. More than a few "I don't agree with you, but I'm glad you released this video" that then never elaborate further. And that makes me feel bad? But why? Do I want to argue with my friends? Not particularly.

But more to the point, are people afraid to argue with me? Do I get too aggressive? I've picked up on a vibe, not just from friends, where people seem to go out of their way to avoid arguments with and/or around me. I mean I literally just said I started my Tumblr blog as a "get a load of this guy in my comments" spotlight (which, for the record, I don't do anymore). I don't want to be scary. But is it scary, or is it a strength? Or am I just imagining the whole thing? History says it's probably that last one, but it doesn't stop me from wondering. It's a lot to chew on.

At the end of the day, I do think parts of this script could have been better. I do kind of get a little mean at a couple points in ways I could have written around. A lot of people are bristling at the opening spiel, where I get more than a little "you people" about the Game Awards voting situation. There's another part later in the video where I also feature actual comments from a previous video and as I was editing it together I thought, "this sounds mean." But given I was less than 24 hours away from that deadline, I just had to roll with it (so I at least blurred the names and cropped the avatars out).

I'll end this post by quoting what I wrote on Patreon day before yesterday for the early access version of this video:

What a march this has been. I've worked on some videos that felt like they took forever, but nothing like this. This felt like the project that would never end. Some of that's because, after pushing myself so hard on the Sonic Adventure 2 video, I tried to be a little more casual with this one. I think I started the script around the end of April, a couple weeks after finishing the game on-stream. The idea was to avoid burnout.  And then the script grew, and grew, and grew, to be the longest script I've ever written. After doing voice over, I had three hours of material I had to cut down. I captured more than 60 hours of gameplay from more than 50 games. Thank goodness I took the time to stop and "storyboard" out this review like I did with the SA2 video. It actually proved to be extremely valuable here -- with a video this long, that takes so long to put together, it's hard to keep all of your ideas hot and ready in your head. Often I'd fall back to the storyboard and realize I planned something months ago that was way better than what I was doing in the moment.  And then in July, a sponsor came calling again. Suddenly I had a real deadline. The last four weeks have been a race to move this mountain of material into something resembling the shape of a video. The last couple days in particular have felt something like a miracle. A work ethic I hadn't tapped into in years suddenly roared to life as I locked down 20+ minutes of video in a matter of hours. It may have involved several actual panic attacks and me running on about four hours of sleep, but here we are. I was revising the script all the way up until a week ago. In retrospect, the sponsor segment probably leans a little too much on SAGE content, but by the time I realized that the train was barreling down the tracks too fast to stop. Thoughts for next time, I guess.

Patrons get a PDF of the script I used, including an unfinished earlier draft I abandoned where I think I was actually even meaner about it, if you can believe it. They also get a PDF of what my "storyboarding" process looks like (which is all just text).

I'll probably toss up a post for all the art I made for this video, too.

#sonic the hedgehog #sega #sonic team #sonic frontiers #youtube #video #long #behind the scenes #Youtube

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hello! I've been following you for a while and you've given really good insights about types (I was quite blown by the way you've been able to read into INFJ's shame and what not. It was really cool to read.)

Anyway, I am an ENTP and recently I've realized that my sense of empathy is rather odd…I am able to understand others, I can predict how certain things may affect others emotionally within logic, however my sense of empathy never truly reaches me. I know it sounds a little weird, but truly I find so hard to be moved by things that often move others, or to care beyond the basic courtesy. I can understand how and why someone feels in x way, however said empathy often comes from logic more than actually feeling in the shoes of others.

At the same time, I take my sweet time when it comes to understand my own feelings. Like, I can experience something that leaves me feeling weird and take a whole day, nap included, just to realize I'm kinda angry or sad or surprised. This inability to guide myself through my own feelings or even experience what others experience has caused me some troubles through the years, because of course, despite being able to read others, one is bound to fail or misunderstand at some point.

From running my mouth, having bad timing, to doing hurtful stuff that in my view were not hurtful at that moment (because I somehow reached the wrong conclusion in my attempt for empathy) I often find myself a little on the sideway when it comes to feelings of vulnerability, to the point I even end up pushing myself through stuff that makes me uncomfortable after I failed to understand I was weirded out on time; or even the opposite when I end up stating that I am really angry just to realize I didn't even cared that much.

The fact that I am a woman and people tend to expect women to be more sympathetic doesn't help either, so it's not rare for a group of people who knows me superficially to think that I am too reactionary/intimidating/out of reach/aggresive/harsh when in fact most of the time I'm trying to be friendly and outspoken, all while my inner circle define me as very lighthearted and even motherly. And, keep in mind, I am actually very adjusted socially, quite functional. I'm the type of person who will push through depression and very bad scenarios out of will which has been incredibly useful in dark times, but again I wonder if it was less will and more me not being vulnerable at all.

So, do you think this is some kind of failing in my Fe? Is this something that happens often to ENTP's or maybe I should check on other things like mental health etc? Do you have tips that could help me being more understanding of my own feelings? (Thank you before hand!)

-------------------

Generally speaking, the focus of therapeutic psychology is mainly on the individual. Behavior is labelled "problematic" when it causes pain and suffering and negatively impacts one's ability to live life in the manner one aspires to. It is a self-evaluation. Since you claim to be functional in daily life, there is no reason to believe that you have any mental health problem or disorder.

However, abnormal psychology is but one of many perspectives through which to understand the human mind. E.g. What about highly functional yet existentially unhappy people? What about people who live a comfortable life but still yearn? What about people skilled at brushing aside issues to keep moving forward in life?

These people might not suffer from any serious mental disorder, but that doesn't mean there isn't enormous room for improvement. The subfield of psychoanalytic psychology helps people get to know themselves more deeply. The subfield of humanistic psychology helps people understand and fulfill their needs better. The subfield of positive psychology was created to tackle subjects like: how to live a better quality of life; how to flourish and thrive; how to realize greater potential.

You've described a psychological "issue" that you struggle with at times, but not to the extent that it poses a serious problem. Whether this issue is common for ENTPs with tertiary Fe is not the right question to ask. If I say "yes", then what? If I say "no", then what? Unless your behavior is very harmful, it's not for me or anyone else to tell you that there's something "wrong" with you. I don't want to play the role of judge and jury.

The question boils down to: What, if anything, do YOU want to do about this issue? The motivation to change shouldn't come from me saying that there's something "wrong" with you, as though I'm your parent. You should have some kind of intrinsic motivation, stemming from deep within your own soul, to improve yourself and your life. Unfortunately, without this intrinsic motivation, many people end up choosing unhealthy paths to self-improvement.

From your description, you have the capability to be emotionally aware and empathetic. However, "capability" is different than "ability". A capability is something you can potentially do but perhaps lack the knowledge or skill or will to do well. An ability is what you possess after you've put in the necessary hard work to learn the knowledge and skill required to do something well.

Of course, there are certain capabilities that are harder to develop for some people than others due to genetic predisposition. But this shouldn't be a barrier for anyone seeking personal growth for the right reasons. When you have the right intrinsic motivation, you understand that self-improvement isn't about being "the best" but about being a better you.

At any point in life, you get to choose to be a better you by turning your capabilities into abilities, by realizing more of your potential. To be clear, there's nothing "wrong" with refusing to. However, when you refuse, are you making the choice consciously, fully aware of the implications? Refusing essentially means you will never truly know that aspect of yourself nor see its benefits. And then you are likely to feel a strange "hole" in your existence, as though part of you is missing.

How does this relate to tertiary Fe? Generally speaking, people have plenty of capability or latent potential with the tertiary function. However, to develop latent potential and learn how to use the tertiary optimally requires a lot of difficult self-work. Why is the tertiary difficult to develop? Two main reasons:

1) It can only come after sufficient auxiliary development, which is hard enough. It sounds like your grasp of Ti is average at best, perhaps immature but not unhealthy. You use Ti in its most basic form to understand and solve problems, including human problems. However, it seems you haven't yet learned how to use it optimally to turn your capabilities into abilities.

2) People often don't understand the true value of the tertiary function and perhaps even unconsciously resist developing it in the right way. Most people use it merely as a tool to gain some egotistical advantage but then discard it whenever it becomes inconvenient. Does this not encapsulate your relationship to emotional life?

Chasing the good aspects while rejecting the bad means you don't have a full appreciation of the function. If you care about Fe, which includes having a healthier relationship to your emotional life, then you must learn to appreciate its true value and WANT it. Nobody can convince you or force you to develop a function that you overlook, ignore, or disdain as it suits you.

Gender may or may not play a role depending on how you choose to react to societal expectations. Rebellion against gender norms is sometimes necessary to promote fairness and equality, but it can also work against you, if you just end up resisting or rejecting things that are good for your personal growth.

As explained in the guide, type development is about improving your self-awareness, with the implication being that knowing yourself better allows you to make better judgments and decisions in life. It is entirely your decision as to whether you're going to: stop devaluing Fe; become more aware of its role in your psychology; accept and embrace its presence with both its positive and negative aspects; and fully integrate it into your way of being.

If you choose to take your personal growth in this direction, your emotional awareness will certainly improve which in turn will help improve your empathy for others. I've explained before that empathy requires both the cognitive and emotional components to work at its best. So far, you have favored the cognitive (as it relates to Ti) and been resistant to the emotional (as it relates to Fe). Rectifying this imbalance requires proper auxiliary and tertiary development, such that they complement rather than interfere with each other.

I've already written about emotional intelligence and recommended books that provide advice for self-improvement. The tools already exist, so it is a matter of study and practice. You say you want to be more understanding of your feelings but then your actual behavior toward feelings suggests otherwise.

For example, instead of being patient and vulnerable and listening to feelings in order to become more aware of them, you treat them as alien or as a nuisance, unwilling to take full responsibility for them. In terms of type development, it is this kind of ambivalence that keeps people stuck in a rut.

In short, is your question really about whether you "can" do it, or is it really about whether you have enough will to change and grow? Until this is clarified, your true purpose remains muddled, and that will continually limit and slow your progress.

#entp #auxiliary ti #tertiary fe #tertiary #emotional intelligence #empathy #capability #ability #ambivalence #development #growth #intrinsic motivation #ask

[flutishly]

As the daily rewatch of NMTD gets going (avoiding the actual phrase/tag, per my previous post), I'm finding myself discovering parts of the show that I never actually knew/processed. Logically speaking, I knew that there were Tumblr accounts and I think I was even following them from some point. But I never followed them at the beginning of the show's run (I only discovered it a few episodes from now, and don't recall going back to fill in the transmedia blanks) and certainly never processed that Ursula's "Vox Pops" video was actually the first (chronologically) of the NMTD-verse.

The first episode of NMTD is naturally Beatrice's first vlog. I still find it immensely watchable and engaging. Bea is funny, approachable, and bursting with a liveliness. She feels realistically teenaged and Harriett Maire's acting makes Beatrice seem entirely real, particularly in the way she shifts between different performance styles as she introduces herself and her family. I've long adored "And So It Begins..." as an excellent example of how an episode manages to cram its background in without seeming like it's trying too hard. It's also just... enjoyable to watch, and this is again purely down to having such a charismatic lead.

If we then loop back to "VOX POPS" (don't ask me why I wrote it normally earlier but am now stylizing with caps), there's a sense that Beatrice belongs to a whole, rich world. In "VOX POPS", she's hardly the main character, which is of course the point. Watching these videos in their chronological - rather than logical - order makes the show feel a teeny bit wider from the start. But it also begs the question why Beatrice is vlogging at precisely the same time as Ursula begins uploading her "artsier" videos. This is answered to some degree in "And So It Begins...", by the fact that Bea's life has undergone major changes of late and she's figuring herself out. Would it have made some sense to have an in-story inspiration from Ursula's videos, in that first episode? Maybe! Then again, this is one of those things that necessitates some degree of suspension of disbelief, when asking why webseries characters begin (or stop) filming videos when they do.

Both of these videos are just introductions... and of course, there are several more introductions to come (not just in terms of characters, but distinct channels/styles, like the Watch videos and Ben's vlogs). NMTD is one of the best shows I've ever seen when it comes to having a full, ensemble cast, which I think is beautifully illustrated by "VOX POPS" being its "accidental" premiere. Yes, Beatrice is the show's main character (and she is, both in terms of plot-centrality and driving the presentation/performance of this story), but she never feels like a character who sits alone at the top of a pedestal while other characters revolve around her. She doesn't change based on who's filming her, but her centrality does. It's something that I still think NMTD did best out of so many webseries.

There's not much to write at this stage, given how little of the story has unfolded (and knowing just how much plot is still to come. So far, I'm mostly surprised by the transmedia (which I remember being fairly thin and far from NMTD's strength, an assessment I stand by so far... it's not bad, but it's clearly supplementary) and by the instant worldbuilding.

So it begins, indeed.

#nmtd #rewatching projects #the great webseries rewatch #webseries #longer posts

[ofthatcolossalwrxck]

Entry date: 24th of September

Well , ain't this funny . The last entry I wrote was on 6th (or maybe 7th ?) of this month , and Uh . I'm not good at telling time apart , how could I when the dates just feel so . Blurry ? But well , I digress — I hadn't taken my anti psychotics for so long , and I hadn't realized until the nausea had me passed out at work . . Thankfully , no co - worker of mine saw me . They all walked by , thinking that I was just asleep on my desk , and although the thought that people can just pass by when I'm like That . . Kinda stings . It's Whatever , it's fine . I should have learned my lesson a long time ago that people are not keen as they seem ; because if they had , I think they would have noticed a long time ago my cries for Help . My desperation . My

Ah , No . No . no . Now , that's selfish . I am not entitled to that kind of attention and I don't deserve that kind of attention , I feel . And I shouldn't try to rely on people for that either , I shouldn't rely on people too hard because they're not as trustworthy as they say they are , and Well , I don't want to hurt more than I have alreadybhurt . Anyways , anti - psychotics Right . God bless my therapist for beingbso patient with me ; I have no idea as to why she hasn't given up on me yet , especially since I missed so many sessions and I haven't taken much of my medication lately either so I have so much to make up for . Hm

On my first night after a long time of taking anti - pscyhotics . The side effects feel just as heavier than it did before though , now I feel like there's a literal something weighing down my eye lids , because with each second I breath in , I find myself dozing off . The nausea hasn't gotten away completely either – so I'm not sure why I'm feeling that way either . Actually thinking about it , I always feel that a Lot ever since I came back into existence . Comes in waves but it's usually bearable So i dont know Why Everythtigg's aching , I don't know why it hurts to moce a lot i mena it usually is but It feels more Painful it hurts the throbbing I can feel it Down mg Legs

the air fele sHumid i think i think I thrink I think I deserve abit of rest maybe Lay down for a Little while on my bed perjaps . . Something scarss me though , my therpaist wants to administ e r anti depressants as soon A sI get used to anti pscyhotics but Honestly ?? Id dont know if I want to take more medicine if this is how I feel rigtht now i hope aftee a bit of rest I will be ready for the job interview in Thee days god i need that job now that theres one person a d a pet sheep in my house Now

ghostbur . Ghostbru right . I havent nmmentioned Ghostbur , haven't I ? he's moved in with me now afte rmy invitation , and thinkjng anout it , I should definitely work on that extra room too so we won't have to share the Same bed and he can have his Own little space . Its the lwadt I can do since he nrought me the closure I needed – I i nee d I N eed to be better , i have to because everyone's pain would be for nothing if I didn't I i yeah . just a Few moments of rest first .. before I think about that ......

#rev's personal entries ~ #bursonaverse #cw chronic pain #(heavily implied)

[silentslxmp]

Autistic! Greenbean AU Headcanons: Kid! Lloyd Edition

Now, some things you need to know before read:

English it's not my first lenguaje, I'm trying my best but I speak spanish, so if I have something wrong or I less some word conector, please! Let me know (I use Google Translate in this ocation because I got lazy lol).

I haven't been diagnosed with autism or any neurodivergence (I've never been to a psychologist or a psychiatrist really) but my friends suspect, many of these things I do myself. In any case, I have been finding out more about the subject, reading and seeing testimonials, even so, if I wrote something wrong or far from reality, let me know! I am interested in learning.

This AU it's a modern AU without powers or something, I have plans and history for this sooo, keep that in mind.

WEELLLL, here I am again with more hc and a character sheet :D

Note: I know sensory vest usually don't have turtlenecks, sorry, take that as creative license (?)

I made another list with stimming hc:

- Lives with Wu after Garmadon murders his mother

- He witnessed the case :(

-His dad was probably autistic too jaja

- Probable selective mutism

- Hyperfixation in dragons, ALL dragons

-He has a lot of accumulated energy that he cannot release anywhere but at home

-Tics and spasms when he is stressed/anxious

-The first days after the murder he could not sleep due to the intensity of the tics and spasms

-He actually doesn't remember much of what happened that night, but he knows something bad happened

-He has a rather toxic relationship with Garmadon, he loves him very much because he was the most present father (despite everything Garmadon did) he generated a certain anxious attachment

-In his mind, Garmadon was bitten by an evil snake, turning his father into pure evil, because in his head it does not fit that his father did something bad

-He received therapy 1-2 times before moving in with Wu, but due to Misako's lack of time he couldn't continue (because Garmadon is a capacitist jaja)

- He returned to therapy :D

-He got him a sensory vest because he had a hard time doing anything (especially when Wu is not around or he has to do with being with other people)

-The stuffed animal he has (which is his favorite) was given to him by Garmadon

-He has a stuffed dragon bigger than his in his room, Wu bought it for him the first few days to help him cope with the situation

-Stimming with sounds, but Garmadon found it irritating so he forced himself to stop doing it

-He has a Poly Pocket type box but with a dinosaur theme, so he took out the dinosaurs and put dragons instead

THATS ALL 👁️👁️

If someone have any doubt or question just do it! I'll happy to answer it. ヾ(*'∀`*)ﾉ♡

Thanks to read. ♡︎

#ninjago #lego ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #Ninjago headcanons #autistic lloyd #Autistic! Greenbean AU #Ninjago au #My headcanons #My art #GENTE QUE HABLE ESPAÑOL HOLA? #Nia's Art! #Nia's Headcanons!

[sylasthegrim]

hi! i’m one of the people who mostly like-not-comment-nor-reblog. wow, even identifying myself as one feels shameful…

anyway, here are some very personal and pathetic excuses for me. (i know that you’re not actually looking for answers to your questions. but i’m hoping that maybe i can help by sharing my side of the view.)

1. paranoia. i’m too afraid to post anything online. mentally unwell in general and too weak to handle the stress.

2. i have too little active followers that my reblogs won’t really matter. it would be equivalent to not doing anything at all.

3. time and energy shortage. i have a 50hr/week thinking-heavy and mentally taxing job and have to take care my household by myself.

these are the main reasons. additionally, english is my second language and i’m not located in neither europe nor north america.

when i open tumblr or ao3, i would want to spend my residual time and energy to the full extent to actually read and enjoy fics… not worrying about writing to a human being in a coherent and non-offending manner.

or, frankly, most of the time i’m just too drained so i would just zone out and doom scroll lol.

i’m not trying to justify anything. i try to be better at actively engaging with creators. i know firsthand how discouraging it is to get nothing or just minimal-effort reactions on works i share online.

sometimes i don’t even click on heart even i liked the thing in fear of it being perceived negatively somehow.

but most of all… i’m sorry. i love your works and try to read as much as i can. i’m sorry for not showing that love. i’ll try harder.

I understand that.

But creators have hard lives too, and still the community demands more and more from us, and we have to work harder and harder to feel like our works matter, even one just one bit.

I can only speak for myself, so I will use my personal situation.

I'm a full-time middle school teacher. I've stopped counting the number of hours I work, both at school and at home.

I'm a parent to a small child. I'm autistic. I suffer from persistent depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder and EDNOS (eating disorder not otherwise specified).

English is actually not my first language either.

I could have all the excuses in the world not to be active in fandom, but fanfiction is my passion and my hyperfixation, and has been for twenty years.

I also want to give back to the fanfic community who has given me so much those last two decades.

In October I posted one request a day, for thirty-one days straight, totaling nearly 45k words. I did it for my readers and followers.

So yes, it feels very disheartening when you put in that amount of work and people don't even take 30 seconds to acknowledge it.

I will speak bluntly. Typing a comment like "I loved this" and hitting send takes five seconds. I just timed myself doing it on laptop.

At one time, one of my regular readers on Ao3 only ever commented with heart emojis, but they did so on almost every chapter, just to let me know they were there and appreciated what I wrote.

So yes, it does upset me greatly when I wrote for hours and hours, had my work beta read by someone else, edited it, made a banner for it on Canva, made sure I used the appropriate tags and still, barely a tenth of the people who liked it took five seconds to actually review what I wrote, one way or another.

I'm not saying this out of anger. I'm saying this out of genuine sorrow and exhaustion.

At the end of the day, why do I even bother sharing what I write if people don't appreciate it? Tonight, I just feel so disheartened...

Fanfiction and fanart are not products to be consumed. They're gifts from the heart of passionate artists.

The answer I just typed is for everyone who will stumble on it: please, please, show appreciation and support to your fandom's artists.

#writer ezran #inbox #hotd fanfic

[not-poignant]

Recently I unexpectedly had two weeks of paid time off work. As something to do with this sudden free time, I decided to set myself a challenge; to write a short story, which is something I had never done before. I've always admired you for having such a talent with words, and I wanted to give it a try.

And Pia... IT WAS HARD! SO HARD! >.<

I wrote every day. I was sweating. I was pacing. I was groaning. I was laying face down on the couch. Just trying to MAKE. THE. WORDS. DO. THE. THING! You make it look so easy! xDD

I literally had several of your stories open as a cheat sheet, to figure out everything from “how does punctuation work” to “how in the world does he transition from internal monologue to conversation so naturally??”

But after two weeks of nearly full time writing, I finished my first 9358 word story.

Is it any good? Probably not. Am I going to do it again? Again, probably not xD

I'm proud that I finished it and as much as I was struggling, I enjoyed the challenge.

But the most impactful thing I took away from these two weeks, is a whole new level of appreciation for your work. Deep diving into your stories, trying to figure out how they work, it honestly blew my mind. YOU ARE SO GOOD! I've always adored your writing because it resonates with me so much and it never fails to take me on an emotional journey. But now I've had a glimpse of experiencing the craft behind it and all I can say is... You truly are one of the best authors out there.

So, thank you for sharing your incredible work with the world.

Omg anon, this message was so great to get.

Firstly, firstly- you're AMAZING!!! You are so good! You had a goal, you'd never done something like this before, and you finished a 10k story? That's basically a novella! Like, holy shit anon, that's incredible tenacity given you've never done it before! Even I wasn't busting out 10k stories when I first started writing.

This message made me so happy, but also frankly really just impressed as well. In some ways it's easy to kind of not see that I've been doing this for 10+ years, I've had a lot of practice, I write faster than I used to, and I didn't used to write this fast when I started out!

I bet your story is a lot better than you think it is. And tbh, maybe you'll find a way to enjoy the process more. :D I think it's awesome you wrote what you did, even if you never do it again *flails quietly*

But also I have this gif saved permanently on my computer and I think you'll very much relate to it even after two weeks:

Also you can have this one too:

And this one!!!!

Actually you can bet I have a folder of a ton of writing gifs because it's a WHOLE mood:

--

I think it's cool though that you gained an appreciation for the craft. Like anything, I think it's great when it looks like it's easy because frankly if you feel like you're slogging it through my writing and every sentence is a burden then I've done something wrong sdalkfjads

But it is something I care about and put a lot of time and thought into, and I'm just so impressed you tried it. That's cool, friend. You're cool.

Hobbies and new skills have to watch out when you're around, it seems like your determination is very Hulk!Smash level! :D :D :D

#asks and answers #why are people so nice #pia on writing #gif post #okay but in all seriousness THANK YOU #and also like #THANK *YOU* #it's cool that you tried this #it's cool that you learned all this stuff #it's cool you got a novella out of it - like congrats that's literally all it takes #to be a writer #is to write some stuff #this ask made me super happy <33333

[vellaphoria]

Hi! For the writer's ask game: 25, 27, and 29 :) Also, I reread Midnight Elegy recently and it's even better then I remembered!

Hello!! :D as;lkdjfa;skldjls I'm glad you enjoyed it enough to reread it! I had such a good time writing that one. Thank you for the incredibly kind words! <3

Answers below the cut:

25. What fic do you wish you got more of a response on? Gethsemane in Winter, probably For context, at one point I wrote a DickTim Earth-3 series because there was a very specific interpretation of the concept that I desperately wanted to read but that didn't exist. So I set out to write it myself, knowing that it probably wouldn't get too much attention, given the number of (accurate) warning tags I slapped on it. I worked hard on it and am proud of the result, but there's still a bit of wistfulness about it because of the nature of incredibly niche things.

Though if anyone is curious enough to look at the part of the map labeled here be dragons, then the series is A Fact or a Weapon, which comes from a wonderfully haunting (and apt, for the fic) line from the poem "We are Hard" by Margaret Atwood:

A truth should exist, it should not be used like this. If I love you

is that a fact or a weapon?

27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

My most favorite part is writing descriptions! I tend to be a visual thinker, so I spend a fair amount of time thinking about where things are in a scene, how they would look, and how to describe things in a way that builds the sort of atmosphere I'm going for.

My least favorite part is writing transitions between scenes. I tend to over-write them and draw things out that aren't important to the plot (one reason why everything I write spirals out of control lol). Sometimes it's hard for me to know when it's best to put a scene break in vs. when to do an actual transition via text.

29. What’s your revision or editing process like?

I tend to go chapter by chapter for multi-chapter fics. My first goal is to get the thing written, so I try not to commit to serious revisions unless there's some sort of overarching problem with what I've got.

Revisions start once I have a mostly finished rough draft of a chapter. At that point, I read through it to make sure that I'm not missing anything and then send it to my beta reader so that they can give me a general vibe check (i.e. does it make sense, does it flow right, is the tone consistent/does it work for the fic, spelling and grammar, etc.). They also do a lot of cheerleading which really gets me through a lot of the tougher parts of writing <3 After I have the beta-approved version, I do another pass through for spelling and grammar and probably tweak some things. If it's a chapter, then it probably sits for a bit while I work on other parts of the fic. If it's a oneshot, then I format it for Ao3 and finalize the title and tags that I'm using before posting.

There's also a secret step where sometimes I don't like what I have, so I tear it up and recycle the parts into other things lol (questions are from this list)

#jagn answers #captain-ursula #ask games

[italianpersonwithashippersheart]

You know what bugs me about the 911 - buddie situation? It didn't have to be like this. All they showrunners had to was deny it. Tim should have said in that stupid interview after season 2, that it wasn't going to happen, the next showrunner should have told the cast to refuse to answer question about buddie, or maybe said something along the lines of, "well maybe in a different universe it might have happen" or even a joke about how "unfortunately they are straight, lol". All the way back in s2 and s3. That is it. That is all they had to do.

But they didn't. They knew the buddie fandom was getting more prominent, so they stayed vague hoping to keep them around. Meanwhile, they have half the writers and other crew memebers putting pile of subtext into buddie's relationship. And then force these same writers to write these rushed underbaked women to throw at them in the hopes that people just forget about buddie. And when that doesn't happen they write the character off.

I don't think I can do this to myself anymore. It's not about them becoming canon, I enjoy the memes and the meta but I have not believed that buddie would actually be canon in a while. What I can't do anymore is sit through another half baked rushed relationship with random side characters they have little to no chemistry with, while the show lie to me about how good of a relationship it is only for them to inevitably break it off when the fans aren't into it.

It's what happen with Shannon, with Ali, with Taylor, it's what Lena was probably initially there for, It's definately why they got rid of Lucy after trying so hard to have her in the season and the team, it's what happen with Ana.

I don't enjoy these storylines. I know the writers can do better, which means they are obviously not into it either. Or they'd be better at this. I don't find these stories entertaining.

The people in charge of this show need to get their act together and decide the fate of buddie, and if that fate is NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN then they need to force their staff to stop writing all that damn subtext and put some effort into their "real" romantic relationship. They also need to accept the fact that is going to make the fans unhappy, and that some of them will stop watching.

Because you know what, they wrote themelves into this damn corner. And now it's too late. They fucked up. There is no woman that will make a better romantic partner in the eyes of the fans, it's too late, even if they manage to write this super well (which I doubt, given what we already saw) the fans are not going to be happy about it. It's too late. You should have spoken up sooner.

They can't have their cake and eat it too.

#911 #buddie #also i am not calling this queerbait because i honestly hate how the term is all controversial now and nobody can agree on where it applies #and i am just tired of the all thing #but you can't deny that the practice of knowing what the most popular ship is and keeping the will or won't they vague #and throwing love interests at them is a well oiled and practice strategy that has served a lot of straight ship very well #and they are definetly doing it with buddie

[storytimewriting]

Wasted Potential

Here's a fun little story time for tonight! This one actually connects to another piece I wrote, Weight of the Universe, but it can be read on it's own as a stand-alone piece. If you do like this one, give the other one a read too!

This short story is vaguely inspired by a good friend of mine. I know she struggled a bit in the past, but she's doing fantastic now, and I absolutely adore that for her.

When people are young, emotions can be overwhelming. Asking for help can feel so far out of reach, it's almost easier to struggle in silence. I know a lot of people have dealt with this, and I hope you know it is so important to ask for help. No one is truly alone.

This is quite a sad piece that alludes to some dark undertones, so be cautious in your reading. (Specifically, if you have struggled with self-harm, please take caution in your reading.)

Also, this piece, as well as others, are posted first on my Patreon! Subscribers to my Patreon are given first access to all my writing, as well as special access to exclusive pieces! Here's the link:

I appreciate you supporting my writing journey.

I hope you like this piece! Let me know what you think.

If you do like it, here's the link to it's sister story:

Weight of the Universe

(word count: about 3.1k)

Enjoy :)

xx gwen <3

________

Wasted Potential

Even the sun falls daily. I think we get so used to the light the sun brings to us that we forget she’s surrounded by darkness. It’s not a bad thing- to be surrounded by darkness. The contrast of light and dark often creates the most beautiful images. Sunshine to shadow, the moon against the night sky- their balance brings peace to these moments. Without a bit of darkness, surely the sun would burn out.

I found my balance when I was young. I had always been good at making friends. That’s why I wasn’t nervous about moving to a new town as a kid. I was used to people liking me: parents, teachers, friends. When I walked through the door and saw a girl who looked like she wanted nothing to do with me, I knew I had to befriend her.

It didn’t take long for us to grow close. We worked well together: when I was loud she was quiet, when I talked she listened, when I laughed she laughed with me.

She spent hours at my house every day. I always preferred my home when she was there. My house was usually way too quiet, and she helped fill it with noise. She brought laughter and conversation, and when she left, the house reverted back to the silence.

Lilith always told me she had to be home before the street lights turned on. One time, we lost track of time when we were playing and she ended up leaving after dark. When I saw her the next day, she looked hurt and defeated. I remember thinking her house was haunted as a child. It made sense to me: the monsters came out after dark. After that, I never let her stay late at my house again.

It wasn’t until I got a bit older that I realized what was actually happening to Lilith. It was never something she told me herself. I think she thought she could hide it, but I always noticed the marks she tried so hard to cover. Her eyes didn’t seem to shine the same after particularly rough nights. I always tried to get her to talk to me- to let me help her- but she refused. I never wanted to be another reason she was upset, so I would let it go. I just did my best to make her happy when she was away from the hurt.

I was used to everything coming easy to me: getting good grades, making friends, fitting in. It wasn’t until I got older that I had to start trying a bit harder. I remember coming home, proud of myself for getting an A on a test, and my parents would ask me what part I didn’t understand. If I wasn’t getting 100%, there was obviously something I wasn’t understanding. Technically, it was true. If I wasn’t perfect, there was always something I could be doing better.

I wanted to impress my parents. I wanted them to be proud of me. I was sure to get A’s in all my classes, befriend everyone around me, and be the best at everything I did. I never had a casual hobby; if I did something, I did it well. However, my parents were so busy with their successes and endeavors, it was hard to be impressed by a child’s.

Lilith was always impressed with me. She was my favorite person to be around because she made me feel important. She was smart and strong and beautiful in a way I never was. She understood the parts of life most people were afraid to. She captured the beauty and serenity of the darkness, like the comfort of a rainy day. She always seemed to persevere no matter the intensity of the storm. I wished so deeply I had even a fraction of her resilience.

I wish I could express the adoration I held for her. Though, she never seemed to like compliments very much. Actually, she never cared to hear what anyone had to say of her. She was confident- sure of herself in a way I longed to be. Her sense of self was not built from the perception others held of her.

Boys started to show me attention when I got older. It was around the same time Lilith started to pull away from me. I tried to fight her on it. I would follow her around, talk to her more, ask her questions about things I knew she liked to talk about. I should’ve taken the hint that she no longer wanted to be around me. Instead, I made her spell it out for me.

“Stop following me, Aurora. I told you I just want to be left alone.”

“I don’t understand what I did,” I whined. I wasn’t used to people not liking me, especially my best friend.

“You’re just you,” she waved her arms at me. “You get everything you want and you never even have to try. You’re perfect,” she spat the word at me like poison on her tongue. “The universe revolves around you like you’re the fucking sun. But I’m done getting burnt. I’m done.”

I listened to her that time. I left her alone. 

I always feared failing to live up to the expectations people held for me. Perfection was everything I’d always strived for. I’d never heard the word spoken with such disdain before. The pedestal I had placed the idea on collapsed, and I was lost.

My house was particularly quiet that day I came home from school. It wasn’t like there was ever anyone waiting to greet me when I walked through the front door, but there was usually someone walking through with me.

I had friends beside Lilith, but none of them felt as deep or as real to me. I spent the first few days following our fight by myself. I would see her sitting alone in the shadows, and I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to convince her that she was wrong about me- I wasn’t perfect, no matter how hard I tried to pretend. I wanted to tell her everything I wanted that was always too far out of reach. I wanted her to know I never meant to hurt her or disappoint her. But she never even glanced my way, and the words never left my lips.

The words echoed in my head: from her, my parents, myself. It was silent in my house but the noise inside my head was deafening. I burned everyone I touched no matter how hard I tried to protect them. I disappointed everyone. It never mattered what I did or how well I did it, I was destined to fail. I felt hopeless. Thoughts of perfection and imperfection had been shattered, and there was nothing left for me to hold onto besides the broken pieces. I held on so tight the shards tore my skin. Crimson dripped from my fingertips to the bathroom tile, staining the white floor red.

It was peaceful at first. There was a sense of satisfaction in ruining my once untouched and perfect skin. It felt like defiance. I was tearing away from the expectations that surrounded me by tearing myself from my own skin. It felt like a way to escape myself.

The pattern repeated for the next few days, but it didn’t take long for the satisfaction to end. The noise was still loud in my head. The marks that lingered on my skin only served as a reminder of all the broken pieces I couldn’t put back together. I held so much regret, embarrassed of the skin I was trapped in.

Long sleeves covered my body when I went to school. It only took a few days for my other friends to start hanging around me again. I let them. I was so alone in every other aspect of my life, I didn’t want to be alone at school, too. I painted on fake smiles and laughs, and I wondered if anyone could tell. No one seemed to question it. People will believe what they want.

I still searched for Lilith in the crowd, but I could tell she wanted nothing to do with me. The person who knew me better than anyone else was now a complete stranger to me. Every day she refused to meet my eyes hurt worse than the last. I forced myself to stop looking for her. As much as I wanted to join her in the shade, I forced myself to endure the heat of the sun without her.

Every day I got home, I tried to distract myself. I tried to talk to my parents but they were always too busy to listen. I tried to listen to music, to write- I tried everything to block out the silence of the world around me and the noise inside my head but nothing seemed to work. I think my brain was broken. The voices in my head screamed at me, begging to be released, and there was only one way I knew how to release them.

The high of the release was always short-lived. Relief was quickly replaced with shame. My hands would shake and my legs were too weak to stand on, so I would stay sitting on the bathroom floor in a pool of crimson tinted tears. I cursed the universe for cursing me, but there was no one I could truly blame but myself. Expectations may have been placed on me by others, but I was the one desperate to uphold them. So obsessed with everything I could have possibly been, I turned into nothing more than wasted potential.

Weeks seemed to blend together in my head. I spent day after day longing for the person I used to be, but I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore. My grades were slowly dropping. I found it difficult to care about being perfect now that I knew it was never going to be achievable for me. Some of my teachers questioned the change, but I know they didn’t really care. They just missed when I was the perfect student they never needed to worry about.

The sun felt more brutal than ever. It beat down on the world, hard and unforgiving. It felt like being scorched as soon as you left the serenity of the shade. I imagine this is how it felt to be friends with me: unbearable heat.

Unknowingly, I pulled up the bottom on my sleeves to try to find relief from the heat. Covering my body had become second-nature, I didn’t realize I was exposing how broken I had been recently. Immediately, my teacher noticed, sending me to the office without hesitation. She refused to hear any explanation I could come up with. Instead, I was met with lectures and threats of being sent away. They told me I could be sent to a facility where I would get help, but I refused to be trapped in a place where I couldn’t escape the silence.

I begged and pleaded, but no one would hear me out. Voices spoke over my own, discussing everything they thought I needed. They told me they were going to have to call my parents. My greatest secret and shame was being thrown about the room as though it were something to publicize. It felt as though they had put up a billboard of my face with the word “failure” painted across it. I knew I was nothing but wasted potential, but it was devastating watching the world around me realize the truth I tried so hard to keep hidden.

I got home before my parents got the call. I knew I needed to leave before they found out the failure I had become. They would be even more disappointed in me than they already were, and I couldn’t handle any more shame.

I packed a bag quickly and left my house. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I found myself waiting outside Lilith’s window as the sun went down, but I couldn’t bring myself to knock. She had grown tired of me long ago, and it wasn’t fair for me to rely on her to stop the burning. Especially when she always got burnt in the process.

It was easy to see I had no place in this town. With the sun no longer in the sky, I felt like I could finally breathe. I needed to go to a place where no one knew me; a place where there were no expectations for me to fail to reach; a place where no one knew of the pain I was destined to cause.

When I finally made it to the bus stop, a figure sat alone in the dark.

“Lilith?” It was the first time I had spoken to her in weeks. “What are you doing here?” I hoped she couldn’t hear how broken I had become in my voice.

I could see the tear streaks on her cheeks. It wasn’t something I was used to seeing. She was always so strong, even when she was beaten down. Tentatively, I moved closer. Her mouth opened, but only a sob escaped her. My arms were shaking when I wrapped them around her, fearful of being faced with her rejection again. She let me hold her, leaning her body closer to mine.

When she spoke, only words of desperation left her lips. She sounded broken, convinced the only way she was going to live was if she left her current life. I knew what she was speaking of. I knew the ghosts that haunted her in the night. I knew what it was to feel alone. I knew exactly how she felt because I felt the same.

I wanted to burn the world down to allow us both a fresh start, but I knew it wasn’t possible. Instead, I let myself be there for her. I comforted her with all the words I wanted said to me. I listened in the way I always wished someone would hear me. I held her in the way I was desperate to be held. I took care of her in the way I wanted someone to care for me. I hoped she felt less alone.

Neither one of us ever got on that bus. Instead, I walked her home and promised her a safe haven in mine. Before I could walk away, she grabbed my wrist over my sleeve.

“I’m sorry, Aurora- about what I said that day. I didn’t mean it.” She didn’t let go of my wrist. I tried not to show discomfort. Instead, I gave a soft smile, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. “I mean, I do think you’re perfect, but you never hurt me.”

“I’m not perfect, Lilith,” I tried to laugh it off, but the sound that escaped me was sad.

She frowned. “Of course you are,” she argued. “You’re smart and beautiful and-“

“I’m not perfect!” I shouted. I was angry and I couldn’t hide it anymore.

Her eyes widened in surprise. She had never seen me angry before- not enough to yell. I would never even argue with anyone, and now I was yelling at my best friend. Her grip on my wrist loosened, but when I went to pull away, she grabbed me with her other hand. I didn’t even know why I was fighting with her. I was just so upset and so tired of hearing that tainted word. In the midst of the chaos, her fingers slipped under my sleeve and we both froze.

“Aurora,” she looked at me so sadly. I could see a million thoughts racing through her head at once. I tried to rack my brain for an excuse but there was nothing I could come up with. “Why?” Her voice cracked.

“I didn’t mean to,” I cried. I was supposed to be the strong one this time, but now she knew that I was broken too. “I just wanted relief. I just needed a second to breathe. I’ve never felt so lost before and now I don’t know what to do.” I knew I was rambling, but I couldn’t stop myself. She cracked the dam I hid behind, and now everything was flooding out. The feelings of loneliness, helplessness, being lost and confused, not knowing what to do- everything came pouring out. 

It was her who held me this time. “I think you need help, Aurora,” she spoke softly as she held my head. I could feel her tears drip on my skin. I missed her.

I had never known what it was to struggle. I had never needed to ask for help before, and now that I did, I didn’t even know where to start. The words were so unfamiliar on my tongue, I wasn’t sure I knew how to speak them.

Still, it was almost a relief that Lilith knew how broken I was. It was like shattering the last perception the world had of me. I could no longer pretend I was perfect. I could no longer pretend I was okay on my own. There was no one left to convince.

We sat on her front porch until we both had stopped crying. We knew we couldn’t stay there forever. Though, it was nice to feel the moon watching over the two of us again. I made her promise me she would come to my house if anything happened. She made me promise I would tell my parents once I got home. We both knew we wouldn’t break a promise to each other.

I was almost positive my parents already knew. They probably heard the message of my problem as soon as they got home. My shoes scrapped against the concrete as I walked home. I rehearsed my lines again and again, trying to come up with the perfect explanation for my parents. I didn’t want them to be disappointed in me. I was dreading having to walk through the front door.

When I walked through the doorway, my parents were waiting for me. They sat together on the couch, but stood as soon as they saw me. It felt like they had seen me for the first time in years. Devastation was painted on their faces, and I searched my brain for the lines I had been rehearsing the whole way here, but I couldn’t seem to find any. My mouth opened and closed as tears welled up in my eyes, but only three words left my lips.

“I need help.”

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