konekochan89
Koneko's Rants and Updates
Information and updates for Koneko's fanfiction/writing (Also see Konekochan07 on Archive Of Our Own/AO3)
331 posts
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Last Seen Blogs
i-will-be-forever-yours
-don’t lose your present to your past-
pagsulatgroup-3
Dugo, Pawis, at Luha: Dinggin ang Tunay na Bayani ng Bansa
kuschelkissen
Mi's fandom hell
alexholic
Look on my works, ye mighty
grimbothefool
Grim's Art Blog
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I picked the bed because I'm always hot when I try to sleep now. I would love most of these, but the bed is the most helpful to me.
no multi option, agonize and choose, no results option, pick one to find out or scroll onward
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HERE!
How many people are still in the Encanto fandom? Show of hands! (Cause it's kinda hard to find people, that I don't already know, that are still in the fandom)
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I got a 24, though I don't know what SMT is, so I may have played that too...
Reblog with your score
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>.>' I'm getting arrested for witchcraft, apparently. And vigilante justice from killing poachers, evil wizards, and goblins...
I'll take it.
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*Snaps fingers repeatedly*
SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK!
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I personally don't think I'm hot, but my boyfriend seems to think so. I'm never intentionally funny. I can do math, can spell, can drive, and can cook. I like to dance, but I wouldn't say I can the way some would think...I just go with the flow.
let’s settle this shit but do NOT reblog if you’re gonna be modest about it like a little BITCH. anyway privilege check tell me which ones apply to you: hot, funny, can dance, can do math, can spell, can drive, can cook
#i mean i can drive#i can cook#i can definitely spell considering my fan fiction#my family thinks i'm funny when i sometimes mean to#still don't think i'm hot though...
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Wow...That was beautiful. And especially true for the last bit. Especially since depression (even without drugs) can cause someone to find the world a cage instead of a park, which could lead them to drugs in hopes of finding a way out.
‘Rat Park’ -Stuart McMillen
You’ll never think about drug addiction the same way again after reading this comic.
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I...didn't realize how much I needed to read this. Childhood trauma sucks, and Melissa is lucky she only had to wait until 5th grade to hide her feelings. I had to hide mine since age 7 (second grade for me).
This was beautiful, and painful, and necessary! So, so necessary.
Thank you!
Melissa hated her feelings.
She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings.
“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name,
‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list:
1.) Don’t cry.
2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate
3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you
She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking,
‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.
‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion.
‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,
“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”
Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry.
9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow.
It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.
Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong.
When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that.
When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.
When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again.
She carried that.
Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:
‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her.
‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’
She cried.
She escalated.
She took it personal.
But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music.
‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose.
The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn���t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too.
Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow.
So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks.
Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified.
And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power.
Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her.
And she finally loved them back.
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So pretty! And a handy guide, considering some gems come in multiple colors, but everyone assumes they're a specific one.
By LabradoriteKing on Pinterest
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Yeah, this is me, except I was always too scared to tell my friends. But if they had asked that question, my reaction would have been the same. I would cuddle my friends, but I would likely cuddle them differently because they would likely have different needs for cuddles.
Did anybody else have that experience where you had a full on crisis cuz you loved all your friends in a different way and didn't know why and also couldn't figure out the difference between platonic and romantic attraction? And you told your friend and they said 'huh but the difference is obvious? You wouldn't cuddle your friends?' and you said 'yes I would' ????
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staff: our april fools joke this year is a silly feature that doesn't really do anything but give you a button to boop other users! they have to opt-in first though :)
me:
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reblog only if you’ve received less than 1000 boops! we can all get each other to “max”
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