#i was and im sure some others were too but the vast vast majority fucking hated her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs | Tumgik

#i was and im sure some others were too but the vast vast majority fucking hated her

gay-artificer · 25 days

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I've seen people be like downpour ruined how people see five pebbles and im gonna be honest if you were here for any number of years pre-downpour the fandom was always god-awful with the nuance in his character. thats not a downpour thing thats a fandom thing

#niche comparison but if any of you know angela from lobotomy corporation/library of ruina #in the years prior to LOR angela was probably one of the most demonized characters ive ever seen in my goddamn LIFE #NO ONE was going to bat for this girl as anything other than a absolute villain and bitch #i was and im sure some others were too but the vast vast majority fucking hated her #because she spends most of the game being mean to you and then betrays you at the end #and you had to read between the lines to get to “wait a minute whats happening to her is kinda immensely fucked up”#and this is someone betraying you at the end of a very /very/ hard game to 100% and beat proper #then LOR came out and fully explored the depths of her trauma and anger at the situation she was put into #how desperate she was too take something for herself and how little she cared about how the effected others because she was not given that #and suddenly it clicked for everyone!#suddenly she wasnt a heartless bitch anymore! but of course now you had the #'literal infant' crowd because it also explored some ideas of parental trauma/lack of experience with the world #but god it was way more refreshing to see people actually move on from 'theyre an evil bitch' even if it came with 'so shes like a kid?'#and i feel that way about pebbles tbh #i dont get super super into the iterator lore so i cant speak much for the quality across downpour #and its higher focus on them and their stuff #im sure it carries plenty of issues as many things will #but god people sucking at reading the room on the iterators is not new lmao #actually five pebbles and angela are shockingly similar....#huh?

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xjulixred45x · 13 days

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OKAY! I HAVE SUCCUMBED TO THE VOICES OF MY LATEST HYPERFIXATION: LEGO MONKEY KID! UNTIL I SATISFY THEM I WON'T BE ABLE TO WORK ON ANY REQUEST! Get ready for the most absurd rants you've ever heard about Jttw, lmk AND EPIC THE MUSICAL! YOU ARE WARNED!

I find it somewhat funny how the vast majority of adaptations of Sun Wukong leave out that the Monkey King HAD A WIFE. a fucking wife that he KIDNAPPED AND FORCED TO BECOME HIS BRIDE.

She literally appears singing about this :'D before Nezha and his father rescue her.

and while I was learning about this, I couldn't help but think about the songs from Calypso, from Epic: the Musical (another recent hyperfixation) and in some way relate it to Monkey Kid.

after all, LMK's Wukong knows that the things he did when he was young were QUESTIONABLE to say the least (he literally said it) and that he regrets many things, and I wondered what his dynamic would have been like in that case with Jiaozi (his "wife ").

and that is precisely why I relate it to Love in Paradise in a certain way.

Like, we know that this Wukong definitely had good intentions, which were initially driven by good reasons, but which became more and more selfish, so here perhaps he could have brought Jiaozi to Flower Fruit Mountain as a direct response to 1- monkey logic + 2- after his trip to the west he needed a way to deal with loneliness and 3- demonic courtship is WILD.

Anyway, I can see this more (ONLY IN LMK) as a response to mourning and handling loss (the Brotherhood? Macaque? is up to your interpretation) and that he really doesn't know how to manage/communicate his emotions in a healthy way.

Imagine being Jiaozi, being taken from your comfortable princess life overnight, waking up in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE with a monkey man who is too... friendly to be a kidnapper?

Like, lmk's Wukong acts just like Calypso, with a lot of familiarity, his normal confident post-trip to the West self, explains the situation to Jiaozi (but in a much friendlier way than it really is) and she's like "uh HELL NO" but there really isn't much to do against the literal Monkey King, THE SAGE, THE EQUAL TO HEAVEN, and poor Jiaozi is having a full-blown crisis while Wukong doesn't understand why she's so distraught, don't she understand him? They have everything they want and need in the mountains!

Ironically other texts also described Wukong as a "spoiling husband who gave a lot of clothes/food/things to his wife" and that was probably the route he took after the beginning, Wukong has a lot of trash, but he was more than willing to share with Jiaozi as long as she was happy, that she wanted him back...love him Back.

He JUST doesn't understand the seriousness of the matter that KIDNAPPING YOUR SPOUSE REALLY IS...until Nezha and His Father come along.

Now, I don't think Wukong is stupid even before that happens, he would see Jiaozi's clear anguish, her sadness, the desire to return to her old life with her family, and although he consoles her and such, he is having a crisis, This is supposed to be normal, right? So why does he feel so bad when he sees her so distressed?

The glass fills slowly but surely.

I don't think he was a bad husband Per se, like I said, he was very pampering and such (maybe even Jiaozi sees him in a certain positive light, even if not as a husband, because of his good deeds of the past), but he had a big problem with taking things too lightly and not dealing adequately with his emotions.

so when he receives the ultimatum from Nezha and company, he has a very Im not Sorry for Loving You moment.

in which he does just that, he explains to Jiaozi that he let her go with Nezha, that he regrets having made her go through all this just out of selfish fear, and he very much regrets not regretting loving her even so (many years of being alone screwed him up a little head, so this type of interaction definitely marked his isolation even more in the future).

Even if in lmk Jiaozi doesn't keep track of him or anything like that, she makes it clear to him that she couldn't love him the way he wants her to love him. and it hurts, but it hurts good. because he learns from it.

(PS, it would be quite ironical if this Jiaozi marry Nezha of all people lol)

waaaaaaa I just love finding parallels between my hyperfixations, I will soon publish another one, but it will be much fluffier and from this same fandom.

(the songs that give the idea)

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Shares, reglogs and comments are very welcome!

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beardedmrbean · 18 days

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Oh sorry I for the back to back

Actually tv was airing reruns of good times once so my mom put it on and I watch a couple of episodes. I mentally went OH NOOOOOOOO halfway through the trailer when realizing what it was sequel about

THERE A FUCKING REASON IM MORE EXCITED ABOUT PLAYING AS YASUKE IN A HISTORICAL FICTION THAT CENTER AROUND A ILLUMINATI WAR AND MOST GODS ARE ACTUALLY MISREMEMBERING OF A HIGHLY ADVANCED CIVILIANIZATION THAT CREATED HUMANITY FOR SLAVE LABOR 75,000 YEARS AGO

Ugh sorry for the detour, but for why Ghettos now means bad neighborhoods. I remember something

So in 7th grade , a daughter of two holocaust survivors told her parents stories. She mentioned that they immigrant to Chicago

So my theory is that when holocaust survivors was telling how they were treated prior to the Final Solution. That people especially black Americans might have started to see parallels to how African Americans were treated in America

Of course not 1:1 but we all know how Jim crows America was

Oh and that pos racist urban planner Robert Moses that lead to the huge race issues of neighborhoods

And the projects, yeah the crime ridden place that was intentionally there to keep my community as animals

Of course not every black person live in it. But there a reason why a lot of black Americans including the lunatic Kanye in his songs, reference Chicago as Chiraq

Oh sorry detour, but remember the OG candyman? I seen people ask why it focus on a white woman…holy fuuuuuuuck

🤔

Could been that a lot of middle classic Americans especially fans of the horror genre wouldn’t know about the terrible situations of the Chicago projects so they made a stand in for the majority white consumers?

Ugh don’t get me started on the remake…where they tackle police brutality… in Chicago… a Democrat and heavily black politicians voted city.

Source: I live in the Chicago area and one it suburbs. I can see the Sears tower (I will call its Willis when I’m dead) in the distance when I use the backroads

Sorry now it remind the issues with the black panther movies. Yeah it was made by race obsessed people but also it was written as a Black ™️ movie

A prime example is Killmonger backstory, yeah it was wrong for the wakandans to abandoned to the streets of Oakland….

But the problem is the vast majority of MCU consumers were white middle class people and even I had to explain some shit to a Indian mutual

Coogler forgot that media intentionally turns a blind eye to black on black crime now and how horrific black inner cities still are. So most people wouldn’t know how crime ridden Oakland was. Okay okay they would, but a lot of the intentionally markers wouldn’t

But they sure as hell remember how evil the cia iiiiis!

Tangent, but why are black creators acting like the shitty made, poorly run projects integral to our communities?

They forced upon to use when we had very limited access to jobs and such. The whole guns, crack, and welfare system was created by racist politicians to ensure we ran back to arms for votes.

Shiiit, now I’m think about, the projects should been seen as modern plantations. Made to keep us away from the others. And so many black kids who could have been doctors, lawyers, and more. All gun down in crossfires or force to join gangs in order to survive….

Oh sorry I for the back to back Actually tv was airing reruns of good times once so my mom put it on and I watch a couple of episodes. I mentally went OH NOOOOOOOO halfway through the trailer when realizing what it was sequel about

Ya, Jeffersons, Good Times, and 227 were all great shows that need to be left alone, Sanford and Son too, they're trading on the name without actually honoring the place it came from, it's a shame.

You're sort of right on Ghetto

How America's Ugly History of Segregation Changed the Meaning of the Word 'Ghetto'

Short short version is the black community adopted the term since it matched up well enough to their circumstances with forced segregation looks like as early as 1910

Oh sorry detour, but remember the OG candyman? I seen people ask why it focus on a white woman…holy fuuuuuuuck

Never saw it, but I will take your word for it on all that stuff

Sorry now it remind the issues with the black panther movies. Yeah it was made by race obsessed people but also it was written as a Black ™️ movie A prime example is Killmonger backstory, yeah it was wrong for the wakandans to abandoned to the streets of Oakland…. But the problem is the vast majority of MCU consumers were white middle class people and even I had to explain some shit to a Indian mutual

Didn't see that one either, but I did gather that it was not quite what it should have been, unfortunately there is only so much time in a movie so gotta leave it up to the viewers in places I guess, also I imagine there were plenty of people that didn't care anyhow they just wanted to see the people fighting and all the cool gadgets and such.

Coogler forgot that media intentionally turns a blind eye to black on black crime now and how horrific black inner cities still are. So most people wouldn’t know how crime ridden Oakland was. Okay okay they would, but a lot of the intentionally markers wouldn’t

You should look up the angry reviews about that one episode of Family Guy, lot of people upset at the 'family guy 'nobody cares about black on black crime' line at the end.

Tangent, but why are black creators acting like the shitty made, poorly run projects integral to our communities? They forced upon to use when we had very limited access to jobs and such. The whole guns, crack, and welfare system was created by racist politicians to ensure we ran back to arms for votes.

because people continue to consume it so there's not much motivation to change the formula, need to bring back George and Weezie, Jefferson's was a good show, Sinbad was a good show, hell even Martin wasn't half bad.

They'd hate The Jefferson's now because meritocracy is bad somehow, but how else are you supposed to move on up to the east side, to a deluxe apartment in the sky, at least most people have to work for it, especially if they started at the bottom.

Can't tell people that they have some responsibility for where they land in life now it would seem.

Shiiit, now I’m think about, the projects should been seen as modern plantations. Made to keep us away from the others. And so many black kids who could have been doctors, lawyers, and more. All gun down in crossfires or force to join gangs in order to survive….

See above about The Jefferson's and previous comments about 'crab in a bucket/work 3 times as hard'

You want a media conspiracy there you go.

#zoomer huey anon

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striving-artist · 4 months

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first of all, apologies: this may sound like needless bait and or agressiveness, it may not be my place, as a non usamerican, to comment on usa's politics, i can't hit enter on anon ask for some reason so this will be a block of text, and my english is of dubious quality when it comes to expressing my points. But as a non usa citizen, or even a non global north citizen, but honestly the bidencourse or whatever feels like its distracting... from the actual point? 1/?

Okay, first, Very Sorry it took me a while to answer. I wanted to wait and give this a proper response, and then real life got to be a Lot. Second, your english is better than my french, and your phrasing ends up saying things more clearly than native speakers because you’re trying to communicate, not say something with clever words.

Actual answer now. It’s below the rest of your asks, which I copied all into this. I’m going to talk about Americans as ‘We’ in this. I know that there are exceptions, I hope I am an exception to it, but its easier to talk like this.

like, yeah, sure. american politics are horrifyingly influential on a global scale in such a manner no single country should be. yeah, sure, deciding whether your president did something bad, terrible even, whether your... ok i dont know the name of state guys in usa politics, so biden & folks, and whether you'll vote for or against him to continue supporting your political goals against their current actions is important, sure 2/?

but also, it really feels as a sorta... united states of america main character of the world moment? really bad at wording this, but it feels as though the vast majority of americans right now are using whats happening in palestine as... performance, sorta? political performance, or using palestine suffering as set dressing to their own issues. theres a really strong vibe of "see all these people suffering, *arent you, white american liberal* feeling guilty about your choices?" 3/?

its like... it really feels as though the whole things is abstract or like, superficial to most people posting about it right now. sure, theyre making a big show, or whatever, but instead of heres how you can actually help, heres what you can actually do about this, american posters are doing the equivalent of asking for a manager about a building thats on fire. theyre complaining more about their own politics than actually helping 5/?

and it circles back to how could my politician do this, or im not voting for him, and, sure, by all means, feel this way, act on it even, but like. grips their shoulder. Can you please not make it about yourselves. once in your lifes. can you please not think about people who are dying, who are being killed, who are being oppressed - in terms of set dressing for internal american politics? just this once? 7/?

this is going a little offtopic, but like, fuck yknow? i saw more people commemorating the death of kissinger than discussing on how to undo the shit he did, and most people commemorating were... americans. i celebrated too, because i was born raised and live in a country that got its dictatorship through american involvement, but it always ends up being how the world impacts america than the opposite, despite how ppl phrase it. sorry. idk. this ended up venty as hell. 8/8

As long as the USA continues to shove into the politics of other nations, especially in the global south, you have the right to comment on what is happening here. I’m happy to be a place for you to vent. You’re also right that the USA is acting like a Main Character. We have done that since Isolationism went out of style. Lots of American politicians on the right talk about ‘America First’ and staying out of other countries’ problems, but they just mean they don’t want to send aid money. Almost every American politician still wants to get involved when it suits their interest (oil, money, personal agenda, personal religion)

Talking about Biden is an intentional distraction here. In part because our politics is a mess of blame shifting and personal attacks. In part because it’s election time, and anything a president running for re-election does is heavily scrutinized. But also, because most americans don’t know enough about global politics to actually talk about it. Instead, we make it about ourselves.

That gets amplified online, and especially on tumblr bc there’s a lot of americans on english websites. We are used to everything being about us.

You’re right that our politics have a huge impact globally. That’s also true for Russia, China, and some key European countries. For the most part, the global south is considered unimportant. Not saying that’s a good thing, but it’s definitely true right now. The next american election could, genuinely, collapse the USA as we know it. I don’t mean the country will turn into anarchy and the purge overnight if Trump wins, but it would be very bad. I’ll ignore the problems we would have domestically for now and how those filter into the rest of the world. That’s an entire essay. They’re huge, but you asked about why we only see things through our own lens.

I kind of want to say that we just suck. That it’s ego, and nothing else. But, we’re actually taught to think this way. That won’t help your frustration, but it is the Why.

Americans get raised with an american perspective, obviously. We’re taught, pretty specifically, that we are a superpower who can change anything we want, and the rest of the world can’t stop us. Having veto power in the United Nations is a good example. We don’t see things that aren’t filtered through American media and reports unless we go out and look for them. Hell, we’re at a record high right now because 60% of americans have passports. We don’t go to other countries, when we do, we expect them to cater to us. We never see anything but the american side of things.

And if America is the only one who can really have any impact, we see our elections as the Most Important Thing. It isn’t completely wrong. How our politicians think about other countries has a direct impact on the rest of the world. We supply a huge amount of money, weapons, and aid to countries. Right now, funding for aid to Ukraine and Gaza are really contentious in Congress. Congress has to pass the bills that let Biden send help. Our system is a mess, and we have people who are elected thanks to a few thousand, or a few hundred voters, that are going to be critical to get those bills passed.

But that’s the bigger picture. That’s officials, and why, in a lot of ways, it DOES matter to the rest of the world how our politics change. I don’t like that, but so long as it’s true, then any american who cares about the rest of the planet needs to focus on effecting our government’s choices.

As for individuals. You are very, very right about this. We treat global events as set dressing for our leaders. Like I said, it does matter, but the way we talk, especially online, is performance.

Lots of americans WANT to help internationally. We feel helpless to do that. If you don’t have the money to donate to charities, it feels like all you can do is scream. Media and news in America doesn’t talk about the rest of the world, so we pour all of that anger onto our politicians, and expect them to fix it. We feel weak, we don’t know what to do, so we do the only thing we know. We don’t know the names of Knesset leaders. We don’t even know about UK politics unless it’s really dramatic, and they’re our closest ally and culture.

To use your metaphor; we’re screaming at the manager because we think he has the keys, and we’re in the fire too. He doesn’t. We don’t know how to handle that. So we’re just screaming.

As for Kissinger, it ties into the above, I promise. A lot of the hate for him, and the celebrating that he died, is because we know what America has done is fucked up. He was a symbol of that. Lots of young americans hate what we did. Shit, lots of americans who were young back in the 70s hate what we did. Him dying felt like we’d gotten rid of some of the baggage tied to us (it doesn’t, we still interfere all over the world) It was a bit of good news when we are facing the fact that we can’t force other countries to obey us.

I’ve talked before about how conflicted I am about this. I badly want America to step in Fix It. I want us to help the Rohingya. I want us to stop Putin in Ukraine. I want us to force a peace deal in Israel and somehow make things right. I want that so badly because I hate what’s happening. I also hate the idea of America continuing to act like we’re the main character. But. I hate that we could do more, and we aren’t. I think a lot of Americans feel that way.

Americans who are watching the rest of the world feel weak right now. Younger Americans - who are more likely to be online talking, AND more likely to be watching the rest of the world - feel weak in every part of our lives. Money, politics, social stuff, corruption. We feel like we aren’t able to do anything. So we’re screaming at the manager because staying quiet hurts too much, and we don’t know how to change it.

This is already long, and I don’t think it will make you or anyone else feel better. But I want to add this.

Everyone pays attention to their immediate surroundings first. The people of Guyana are focused on Venezuela trying to annex them. The people of Sudan are thinking about how everything is falling apart for them. The problems in the US are pretty privileged. The danger for trans americans is bad right now. It’s not wrong to think about keeping yourself alive and safe first. You put on your own oxygen mask first. Everyone does.

I don’t know if I missed something that you want me to talk about. I don’t know if this was helpful at all. Really, I just sympathize with you. It isn’t fair, it isn’t right, I want to shake americans by the shoulders, and I can’t. And I hate that.

#us politics #principles - strife #this is 1300 words of answer #I don't know if it really answered anything #because the answer comes down to:#Americans can't imagine things except through how it impacts america #the rest is me saying that with more words

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fratboykate · 1 year

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As someone who is a working writer in Hollywood (striking is the most important work, fair pay is the bare minimum), what is your opinion on nepo babies? Like the actors from rich parents or established Hollywood people.

I try to not get mad at them. I'd do the same if I had rich parents willing to pay for me to live in LA or NY while I pursue entertainment dreams or make a couple phone calls to get my foot in the door.

The only time I get mad is when the baby tries to pull the "I did it all by myself." Sure Jen. Daddy paying your bills for a few years straight and for all your acting classes; dental work; and calling his friends at the studios didn't have anything to do with it.

they're all really hit or miss. (mostly miss) but like you said, every parent just wants to set their kid up for success so 🤷🏽‍♀️ it is what it is. it's always going to be there.

but i do also wish people had a better understanding of what a nepo baby actually fucking. y'all use that term so willy nilly. someone has the most tangential connection to the industry and you'll see people talking about them like they're the kid of some studio ceo. one of the ones that always drives me INSANEEEEE because all you need is two working inches of brain power to know she is definitely not a "nepo baby" is billie eilish. the "her mom is an actress and her dad works in hollywood so her parents were millionaires". im sorry...1) the VAST majority of actors are just as broke as writers which is why theyre probably striking this summer too. people will see someone with three extra credits on IMDB and living in LA and think they're rolling in money. try to go find a movie that billie's mom starred in. you cant because she was a background actor AT BEST. that's the kind of shit people do for extra money lol. it pays like $150/day. her dad is a crew guy. crew members are working class. all of them. not a single crew person is rich. billie and finneas have shown their house a million times because their parents still live there and that's where they write all of their music. it's a very small, very humble house in an iconic low-to-middle class neighborhood in LA. you literally just have to look at the house to know these people arent rich. but you go on any nepo baby thread and people will have their mouths full with billie's name because "her parents work in the industry and got her in". be for fucking real. and she's just the only one that came to mind. there's so many other people who the internet considers "nepo babies" that aren't that AT ALL.

#beilish #hollywood #rants #anonymous #answers

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xythlia · 6 months

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something else ive noticed every few months when tumblr does this will they won't they shut down thing is it always, always makes all these fresh posts pop up about how you just absolutely have to spend money on this site and need to stop being openly critical of the way this place is run & that's just not true. you can love tumblr as a platform but also remain vocal about the numerous failures of its staff

a vast majority of this site isn't so staunchly anti-monitization for no reason. over the last year alone the censorship by staff of trans individuals on this site is at a point where u can't say it's not rooted in bigotry. why are a majority of only trans people being told their posts are inherently nsfw when it's just... them literally posting the way everyone else does? staff has whipped out never used before content moderation tools for the sole goal of nuking anyone who ever says hey this is weird as fuck in regards to that behavior/the people on staff who are just blatant terfs & freaks.

you can't go scorched earth on people and just expect them to go oh but we'll still buy the silly billy crab badge <3. not to mention it's in poor taste to rip jokes made by others on this site, turn them into profit makers, and then offer absolutely no credit to the person who's shit they're using to generate revenue.

it's been years that people have been asking them to address the issue of nazis running rampant on here. that's literally never been addressed even though they've shown they do have the tools to address that in at least some capacity, they just have zero interest in doing so.

they'd rather use those tools to suppress tags for palestinian support then go oopsie woopsie the site did a lil fucky wucky. you cannot do that shit again and again and again & just expect people to fall for it over and over. staff thinks very little of their userbase if that wasn't already clear, they think we're stupid. there's people on here who've talked before about how tumblr did similar shit when the protests in ferguson were happening years ago, they terminated blogs belonging to black activists & then started that absolute bullshit line about russian psyop accounts. there were no fuckin psyops they were blatantly going after black activists.

I mean jesus christ you cannot expect people to kiss your ass & throw their money at your website when it has a mind boggling track record of piss poor treatment towards its users and an unbelievable preference for shielding people who are fucking vile and hateful freaks. sure a lot of that stuff occurred not under the people who own tumblr now, but clearly they inherited the playbook from those who owned this site previously because they just do the same shit then are so flabbergasted when we all can't stand them & are not exactly shy in showing how much we dislike them.

two things can be true at once you can absolutely be fond of this site but you can also go hey a lot of the shit you're pulling here is beyond weird and hostile towards certain parts of the userbase only... why the fuck is that? for a lot of people it's about withholding monetary support until things like that are addressed, which they haven't been so sorry im not going to be lining up to buy fucking premium and whatever stupid little vanity badge from the people who do nothing when non white people & trans people get harassed and have their safety threatened because staff is either too pussy to do anything or at worst actively involved in that behavior so they pretend they don't see.

I think they'd have an easier time of implementing monetized features if they didn't treat users like dogshit & blatantly treat us all like we're fucking idiots but hey what do I know

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abyxbby · 2 years

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i always share existing content but never find myself typing out much anything all on my own.

25 years doesn't seem like it's that much time at all it seems at least to any individual with a full long life already tucked in nice & secure under their belt. i've always been very much so self aware, i guess that's just the reason why i want to die too.

the first 5 or so years on this planet the only things i knew where i felt were loneliness & bewilderingly unfit. i always knew there was not a single place in which id ever actually belong. the next 2.5 years only gave those feelings more permanence, i still clearly recall the ugly dark places my mind would wander off to late at night tucked sweet n sound in the toddler bed adjacent my sisters. even though i didn't know about it then, it's like some force from inside of me knew for a fact that a soul at such a young age should even be capable of thoughts & feelings with so much complexity, i was just as ill as i am now back then, i really haven't seen one aspect of this life without these painfully heavy & ridiculously damaging lenses given to me from the moment of my birth.

i am yet again more than sad within my time here where all i can manage to be is inconvenience & disregarded due to how different i am compared to the vast majority of this dull world. i'm seen as a real quack job, a nut case. which over time seems to give any person with which crosses my path the idea that they have any right to label me as a manipulator, i was born sick but it's all just that i'm out for attention. i've never known a day thus far without soul shattering levels of pain. even the best of days hurt more than most imagine, i still after all had to experience it while being me.

as far as the message im trying to get across, i couldn't tell ya what the hell it even is. after being isolated from quite literally any & all human contact, after living within the confines of 4 increasingly claustrophobic interior walls, i guess this is just the one place i have left where i feel any kind of safety. between u & i, it's all been set up so when it's deems to be THE time, i'll have more than what i could ever need and best of all being simply just peace of mind. the legwork is done, it's all ready as soon as i am as well. that way, i won't have to scramble ideas, source inventory or even have a chance for a damn soul to get in my way, not a chance to stop me, because at this point all i know is i am absolutely dead set on it, i just want to fucking die.

not too long ago, despite how off it may have seemed at that time, i took the one last attempt to save myself if ever be given again & risked every bit of it all because some boy told me kind things & somehow it did actually feel like I AM finally understood. for the first time of my life it was as if i was worthy & valued, deserving of any others effort & time, and as absolutely stupid of me as it was, i also let myself grow to genuinely love that boy. unfortunately, just like all others in my life, it wasn't ever actually based on the truth or had anything solid within it at all. my last ditch effort to at least find contentment seeing as happiness is too far away still for me as any kind of goal, the only time id be given to literally save my own fucking life, was ripped away in one fast excruciatingly malicious, selfish ass tear of my soul. once again i was no more than what everyone sees of me from the outside, which is never more than some sex fantasy perverted individuals make me into within their own minds, i've never been a single thing other than smokin hot. i'm sure it can sound great at first but being desired physically then consistently rejected mentally & emotionally has killed me entirely at this point already. i see not one reason then as to why i subject my physically form to such torment & misery.

i guess that's why i just won't anymore.

i'm tired. for so long i have kept my head above the water enough to survive while every now & again scream out with my soul in hopes somebody, please help fuck literally anybody please see me because i'm about to go under again n for the very very final time i ever will.

all it ever would've taken to make the universe of a difference for little ole me, is one person who doesn't judge & has enough compassion, just let go of norms bc they don't apply in the least bit when it comes to me just show me i deserve still to be fully embraced.

i've never had a friend this entire time. never more than simply a matter of wanting to fuck me or wanting to fucking be me. oh, my bad there is a lethal dose of pure hate that comes right with it too. and if by chance a soul thats encountered mine happens to come across this, just know yes it's exactly as i've always said & is now while taking in my agony. yeah just to toss it directly in the trash like the funnies from last weeks sunday paper after forgetting day after day i keep meaning to be rid of it.

if anything is to ever be educational & come to serve a purpose from the short & trauma filled years of torment im going to be free from, the most fitting of all it could be is just for human beings to STOP treating other human beings any less than respectfully & regard them with decency, because that's a u would ever want someone else to fucking do for u.

with all this being said it has come time to close up my inner thoughts & exhaust myself just getting by another day with no chance or possible way that i don't have to do the shit and still have to be me.

this is where i always say how much love i have for whom i'm addressing but since i have nothing more than just posts on tumblr saved to my own blag, it feels larger than life to say i dont fucking love shit & the first excitement to run through my body in so so very long comes from finally making the decision to ensure the ending to my very own life.

i won't see this time next year. maybe not even in 6 months. sooner the better in my book.

so long & fuck off to every single last one of u. the reason those who are born into suffering don't stand a chance is all because of selfish close minded tainted vile cruel tasteless hurtful manipulative wastes of good quality pack full of potential clean slate souls.

i hope the world burns and maybe then everyone would feel a touch of what i've endured full force now for every last moment in my 25 years of life.

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao)

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

#tw trauma #tw death #tw blood #tw injury #tw torture #tw abuse #tw starvation #prison arc #pandora's vault #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks

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kerink · 2 years

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Please talk about Earl and Roger I BEG

bro earls the love of my life. im an earl stan first and a human second. where do i even start? how do i even vomit my entire love of him, all my thoughts of him, into one ask? heres a summary

the vast majority of my time is spent daydreaming about how pathetic he is. about how in love with cecil he is. about how angry he is that his role in cecils life is not to be cecils husband.

hes hundreds if not thousands of years old. he grew up with cecil, theyve been attached at the hip since they were kids. he and cecil were inseparable best friends.

he remembers the abuse cecil went though, remembers the struggles of being raised by abby. he was there when cecil left home and got the best apartment he could afford on an interns salary (not good). he was there when cecil struggled with drugs and alcohol and parties and a rotating cast of older, much older, men. he was there when city council first scrambled cecils brain.

earls parents felt bad for the palmers but were helpless. abby and cecil would only accept so much, and the harlans watched as their deteriorating family pulled earl down with them. earl not only never went to college or got a job or had a family. he got stuck. he stayed 19 with cecil because thats what cecil needed. cecil was grappling with his lost childhood and fear of adulthood and earl refused to leave him. earls life stagnated because earl was too in love to abandon cecil in his trauma

and then city council reset cecil. they couldnt have their Voice, the conduit to their god, so broken

and cecil moved on

but earl had based his life around cecil. his whole identity was being cecils best friend and his main support person. his entire future was based on the idea that he was going to save cecil and they'd get married and itd all be okay

then slowly cecil forgot him and they drifted apart and then earl was the one stuck. the one with the lost childhood and the fear of the future. so thats where he stayed. 19 and the scout master and aimless. for so long it makes him cold and a bit sick to think about

and then he suddenly wasnt anymore. he woke up and the life he never had but maybe could have had was dropped in his lap. he was an adult, presumably had some training or education, had a good job. he was living in a nice enough house instead of the shitty trailer hed been living in.

he had a kid? a kid he wishes he could pretend was his and cecils but looks like him line for line, curve for curve, angle for angle. earl would have thought it was him except he doesnt remember this. maybe this isnt a kid, maybe this is the ghost of the childhood he never had

except this kid seems to actually need and want things and fuck earl can barely take care of himself. he only used to working as a volunteer, then goofing off the rest of the time. hes not used to having sometimes up to 80 hour work weeks. working and then NOT being able to come home and get drunk and fall asleep in front of the tv? hows he meant to cope with it all?

and then he hears cecils fallen in love with another man. cecils thought he was in love with other men before, but this ones different, this sounds different, earl can hear it in the sigh of his voice, the same way cecil would sigh his name laying in their tent at night staring at each other blissed out and exhausted after sex

and he hates carlos. not for being the one cecil chose (no earl hates himself for that. he hates himself for not being better, not being good enough, not having been chosen by god to play that role in cecils life) but for being a workaholic, for leaving for the desert otherworld. earl watched the life cecil had finally built for himself fall to pieces while carlos was gone. and earl was so happy, so thankful, so grateful that things in his own life worked out so he could slot himself back in to cecils life again, could prop him back up, could give him a shoulder to cry on, to be there to bring him food and make sure he hasnt over dosed.

coming to terms with having to accept that loving someone means wanting them to be happy, even if its with someone else. being a good friend means protecting a good thing. means catering the wedding for the love of your life. means giving a speech and being the best man. means truly believing it when you say im happy for you two means accepting that the role you were meant to play was what youd always been: his best friend

#long post /#wtnv #earl harlan #sorry i dont really thinkg about roger that much

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thatfunkyopossum · 3 years

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whys it a worthless video essay? genuinely curious on your thoughts :0

The racism mostly!

Disclaimer: i’m white, and not meaning to speak for any person of color! My opinions on this are formed based on what i noticed in combination with what i know about racism, and I believe that in this case i’m right about what i’ve observed. That said, my observations are open to criticism from any black people who might be reading this and feel like weighing in, as my only personal experiences in bigotry are with my identity as a queer person. In short: i’m not an expert, but i do have eyes and what they see is repulsive. Anyway this will be rambly.

First and foremost, The Tragedy of Droids by @popculturedetective’s editing directly connects the Droids in Star Wars with the atrocities of chattel slavery in the americas, and the perceived connection is at times hinted at in the script.

@4:10 into the video “...they’re also bought and sold like cattle” is a quote i caught when trying to find the following time stamps, because the editing is the real beast here.

There’s also @ 4:35 “you can probably guess where i’m going with this, because the social arrangement i’ve just described is one of property and owner. And a property relationship between two intelligent beings that gives one absolute power over the other is called slavery.”

In this video essay, there are multiple times when the visuals cut between Roots and the droids of Star Wars. This is important because Roots is a mini series based off the family history of the black man who wrote the book, Alex Haley, and the scenes being directly juxtaposed with Star Wars droids are the scenes from it where black people are on slave ships or being sold at auction. TToD essay, which was at the very least presented by a white man, wants the viewer to connect robots and black people for the sake of the essay’s argument. TToD essay wants the connection between real black human beings who actually lived and suffered and died in the real damn world to, i cannot stress this enough, machines.

To anyone who is reading this and not seeing why thats fucked up, because they view the droids as people, here’s the problem. Droids aren’t people. No matter how you slice it, no matter how much you love them, theres actually no way for us to be sure that 99% of droids are sentient beings, that are self aware, and that feel things. Droids in the Star Wars universe are constructed to be tools that talk to you and have fun personalities. Some droids might be self aware and sentient, but the likelihood is that the vast majority aren’t due to being what they are. Tools. This is in stark contrast to black people, because black people are, uh, people!!

At 4:00 into the video essay, we start to see the cuts between Roots and Star Wars. Pop Culture Detective cuts between C-3PO/R2-D2 being sold to Luke’s family and a black woman being put in front of a crowd of white people to be auctioned off. This same sequence of cuts is used again later in the video essay.

At 28:20 into the video, a clip from Star Trek: The Next Generation is used wherein Guinan (played by Whoopi Goldberg, a black woman) is talking about slaves and slavery, how there have been disposable people in history. This clip on its own is so, so good. It aired in 1989, and I have no idea what the political climate was like for black people then (im not as well versed in history as i would like) but i can guess it probably wasn’t good!

“...They do the dirty work. They do the work that no one else wants to do because its too difficult or too hazardous. You don’t have to think about their welfare. You don’t think about how they feel. Whole generations of disposable people.”

And then Pop Culture Detective uses this (to me) powerful line about atrocities done to human beings... and cuts to R2-D2 serving drinks to Jabba’s crew. PCD says some bullshit about how star wars is using the droids as an allegory for slavery but has nothing to say with the metaphor, and then it cuts back to Guinan to finish her speech. Might i say: what the fuck. What the fuck.

I can’t find it right now, but i distinctly remember there is also a bit where the visuals cut straight from a black man’s face to the face of an astromech.

And the cherry on top is that the clones are in this video... and never mentioned. Okay actually i’m going to talk about this video’s treatment of the clones and how utterly fucked up it is because i was so caught up in the “this essay wants you to think of the horrors of chattel slavery done to black people as being even remotely comparable to the existence of R2-D2” that i forgot to talk about the clones.

Okay so this video does not mention the clones at all. It uses clips from the clone wars and clips from the prequels movies with clones in them, but the clones aren’t even so much as talked about in passing. The closest we get is this brushing off of the issue in general @29:50:

“Remember, this is a universe where humanoid slavery exists as well, but its presented as unambiguously negative, though not exactly something the heroes are in a rush to abolish.”

Which is said about Anakin and his mother. And its not like they forgot about the clone wars and to talk about it at all! No, they had this to say on it @15:10. See if you notice anything.

“...But what about Battle droids?... Well, the separatist droid army in the prequels seems specifically designed as little more than canon fodder. Making the bad guys unfeeling robots avoids the messy moral complications and mass casualties that would result from an interstellar war. If battle droids aren’t alive then the audience doesn’t have to care when thousands of them are killed in extended battlefield scenes. Indeed we’re encouraged to think of these types of droids as mere objects and to cheer at their dismemberment.”

Drink it in y’all, i’m still absorbing it. I’ll note that sections of this were played over clips from the first battle of geonosis, and there were clones on screen. So, PCD completely sidesteps the issue of the clones, seemingly unaware of the actual explicit enslavement of brown men who are unquestionably living thinking feeling people, in favor of projecting humanity onto every single droid including the infamously poorly programed B1 Battle droids.

I don’t know what else I can say on that besides the fact that some obscure ass clips from the clone wars are used to humanize the robots, implying that PCD watched tcw and missed the episode where Slick calls the Jedi slavers.

There’s other problems with it as a whole, like the essayist completely failing to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that all droids are sentient, or that even most droids are. No consideration is given to the purpose, construction, or make/model of droid into the question of “are they sentient”? And we’re left with the implication that your average mouse droid is at all relatable to a black person.

In fact, PCD in this essay seems to actually imply that r2-d2 and bb8 being sentient-ish robots we’re supposed to empathize with, and the battle droids being not that, is due to a failure/breakdown of internal logic. And not that they’re, you know, different machines...?

I have so much to say on this mess, but this is long enough as it is. In conclusion, Pop Culture Detective’s video essay should have been about the clones, but it chose to focus on droids instead and in doing so dehumanized black people in an attempt to humanize robots.

I’ll leave you with this quote from the video, but edited slightly to be instead about the clones.

“[Slick]’s observations about [clone] slavery could have been an opportunity for Star Wars to finally grapple with the uncomfortable fact that...the good guys seem to have been keeping sentient beings in a state of perpetual servitude.”

#long post #racism #slavery #star wars

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Text

many many anons under the cut bc i didn’t want anyone to feel like i was ignoring them and i wanted to respond to u all! warning for small text too, it was so long i wanted to make it look smaller fgbnjkgkjn

Anonymous asked: NAT... you can write WHATEVER you want! It's your blog, and I hope that rude anons can learn to respect that. I used to be on your blog just for jjba content too, so when you started getting into jjk I was indifferent but eventually you dragged me into jjk so hard!! I already like bnha, so seeing you write for it only made me happier! I hope that you continue to write whatever make YOU happy:) ❤and yes, longer fics certainly doesnt mean it's better, quality over quantity

ahh i’m happy that you are here for all three!! i always feel so accomplished when someone is like ‘your constant screaming made me think about jjk <3′. all three of the fandoms are fairly popular and i tag everything v carefully so i hope people who do use the filtering find that useful!!!

Anonymous asked: Goodness gracious. People really be out there thinking they're entitled to dictating what kind of content you should be making

i think part of it might be that i do take requests so people feel like they have like . . . a certain right to certain kinds of my content? i take requests mostly bc they keep me motivated, i like making content for ppl who cant find what they want bc i’ve Been There, but maybe people think i am a pushover? idk i am just trying to have a good time!!!

Anonymous asked: Hi. I only started following you a few days ago but please ignore that rude anon. People are so fucking entitled towards writers it's insane. I recently had someone throw a fit for "spoiling" something in my fanfic, even though the fic was about a manga-exclusive character, so what did they expect?? Overall I've really enjoyed your writing so random assholes coming to guilt you is just a shitty thing that happens. Keep going with what you wanna do.

ah gosh anon i’m sorry about that :(. i’m always super careful tagging spoilers and stuff but like, if someone clicks on a fic about say, naoya or the steel ball run boys and is mad that i spoil something they havent found out yet . . . yeah thats on them fgbnkjgfkjn

Anonymous asked: That...that anon had the nerve to say "we". The fuck?! No no no anon, YOU'RE the only one talking and you're just talking for yourself, don't you dare try and lump us other anons/followers up with you to make yourself look like you're right. We love you nat and we appreciate you. It's your blog, you're allowed to write about whoever and whatever. This brain dead anon just needs to either go read someone else if they're that salty or write their own stuff if they're that impatient.

gosh i WISH some of my mad anons would just write their own stuff honestly. idk if this anon thought they were talking for everybody but i guess they expected anons to agree with them and not be mad at them. i appreciate u anon ;_;

Anonymous asked: Just want to say that ily and you’re one of the best jojo fanfic writers in my opinion 💗 I don’t think you’re half assing jojo fics and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you being multi fandom. A lot of jojo blogs have started posting about jjk so it’s not as if you’re the only one. I’m not sure why you get hate like this but I think it’s just because you’re one of the popular writers and that makes people bitter for whatever reason. Keep being you and posting about the things that make you happy 💕

honestly after so long writing for jojo - i’ve written well over 200 jojo reader insert fics - sometimes it feels like i’m retreading stuff, and that’s when i take a break bc i dont wanna half-ass stuff!!! i love all of my fellow jojo friends who are posting about jjk too, i appreciate them <3.

Anonymous asked: Hey my dude, ur writing has really grown since the jojo days and its better and awesome seeing u become happier to branch off and write in different fandoms 🤌🤌 those stupid anons are just boring farts that couldnt be bothered making their own content 😤😤 is it possible to block them to ease ur mind?

hello anon!! i run a statcounter for IPs but it doesnt always work for ppl who access through the tumblr app, i don’t think; a lot of the anon hate i get i just use the ‘block’ option, but last night got to me because i’ve been getting that kind of writer a lot which is . . . a bad look for the jojo fandom who are, as a whole from the ones i’ve interacted with, lovely!!! <3

Anonymous asked: People often forget, the person behind art or writing, is just another regular fan. You deserve to be happy with what you create and we should be thankful you share your talent with us. You also have right to change your main interests, and it's very normal thing. Jojo is one of the MANY things that you write for and all you get from that is a like or share. Its not your job. It's your fun thing to do, in spare time. You haven't betrayed anybody. That person was just rude, selfish and bored.

i am just a person doing my best!!! anime fanfic is one of many interests i have and i already devote a lot of time to it honestly, i love when people tell me they’ve enjoyed something i made bc it makes it feel worthwhile but equally it gets to me a lot when people are rude because i am usually trying my hardest.

Anonymous asked: Bro that jjba anon... the entitlement🤮 Fam, you write whatever you want to write😤 -Saturday

dfnjbkjnkgf i find most fic readers are NOT entitled at all and are just grateful but when they are . . . oof.

Anonymous asked: It's funny how people throw "we got you popular" and they think you start apologize and cry. Your writing and passion made you gain few numbers on a follow counter, nothing more. I think I'm too old for stuff like this, we are nothing more, but +1 on a number scale. You ow us nothing, we ow you nothing. Popular... Funny word. You just write for fun of it, fake scenarios about someone's manga characters. It's not that deep. Have fun and don't listen to people like this. I knew it's not that easy, but they are really not that important as they think they are.

extremely fun fact for people who think ‘popularity’ is important to me: i would 100% rather have 10 people who regularly comment, reblog my fics with tags and interact with me than 100 people who read my fic and either leave a like or simply move on. i think this is true for the VAST MAJORITY of writers tbh. i’m glad that people think i am a ‘popular’ blog (i am not in the grand scheme of things, one of my ex-best friends used to run a kpop reader insert blog with like 30,000 followers) bc it gives me an ego boost lmao, but i really just want people to read and enjoy the stuff i write!!!

Anonymous asked: I followed you a while ago for jojo and when my friends started getting into jjk i was like...eh sounds like work...but now that I see you writing for it I feel really motivated to get into it!!! I really enjoy your writing and I want to be able to read the new stuff too!

ah anon i really hope you like it!!! it’s only one season rn if u wanna watch the anime and there isn’t too much of the manga to catch up on either but it is a lot of fun and it’s nice to be in a fandom that’s like, excited about a new chapter and new plot developments every week!

Anonymous asked: Pls dont reply if u dont want to! <3 I'm not sure if this will be of any help to you or not but this is the kind of thing that often helps me and is the only way I know to try comfort others so I wanted to give it a go~

Now im not gonna say 'dont feel bad pls' bc I know that's not really useful but what I do think is useful is just discussing why that anon and many others feel the need to respond that way. As someone who follows a lot of writing blogs myself and have done for a long time, i've seen my handful of favourite writers come and go for different reasons, lose motivation for a while, gain motivation for a while, go from multi to single fandom, or single fandom to multi. Often times as a reader it can be upsetting when things change but it's also important as a reader to understand that some things aren't in anyone's control, I can't control what my favourite writers become a fan of or lose interest of, I can't control things in their personal lives that may motivate or demotivate them to write, but what I can do is support them as long as they're active, and if they move on to do things i'm no longer interested in or i'm the one that changed interests, rather than being upset that they're evolving to do other things or that they're not evolving with me, I think it's important that I still feel thankful for the works that I enjoyed while we were still on the same page and this is how I personally deal with those negative feelings. I think the anons that lash out at you probably just dont know what to do with themselves, maybe they got attached to your works while you were still only a jjba blog and now that you're evolving they're upset, while I understand how they feel, they're going the completely wrong way about it. I've learned to take these things and turn them into something positive for myself or at least something bittersweet that I can move on from but the anons that lash out at you for whatever reason probably haven't learned this yet. Maybe it's because i've moved on and changed interests a lot myself that I know how these things go for both writers and readers but those anons maybe haven't experienced this as much so they dont know what to do with themselves other than complain that you've changed and throw insults at you in an attempt to get you to revert back. None of this is because of the quality of your writing like they want you to believe, it's literally just because you've evolved and while some of your old followers might not like the new content for no reason other than it not being their cup of tea, it's definitely not regressed at all. You are pumping out a lot of content right now but every single thing i've read has just been better than the last. Things that really stand out to me is how well you get characterisation down to a T and all of your dialogue is just on point and from the pov of a reader I think those things seem the hardest to get right so I am such a huge fan of your stuff at the moment and I can tell you're really putting so much thought and care into each and every fic no matter how fast you're producing it, I think the fact that you're also proud of what you're writing at the moment really shines through as well and I just adore the passion that radiates from every completed request as well as in the responses for the subsequent thirsts resulting from these works that appear in your ask box later (I know i've sent quite a few by now~)

Just to be clear i'm not defending those anons in any way, while I can understand what they might be feeling/why they're reacting in the way they are I still believe it's just so immature to be hateful online point blank. Even during a time where I still got upset with writers if they started doing something else I still never targeted that negativity directly to the writer and sending rude or hateful comments whether on anon or not never something i'd stooped low enough to do even when I still had an immature way of thinking, however, I hope that it might make it a little easier to brush them off if we try and understand what they're really upset about, and that they're just putting the blame for their negative feelings onto the wrong thing rather than coming to terms with change themselves.

hello anon!! i appreciate the long message. i do feel bad for people who have no interest in what i’m currently producing and i get that they feel upset about it; i’ve watched a lot of fellow jojo writers move on completely or just stop posting, honestly. this kind of thing is why i was so intense about asking people if it would be better if i made a separate blog but the resounding answer seemed to be ‘i’m just vibing with whatever happens and i’ll block tags as needed’.

i often return to works by my favourite reader-insert writers who no longer write for the fandoms i like (and i read stuff bc it sounds interesting or i trust the person who writes it), but change can be difficult and i guess at this point i’ve - whether u like me or not lmao - been a fixture in jojo reader-insert tumblr for a While so it’s probably kind of jarring.

anyway i really appreciate you and the nice words! <3

Anonymous asked: hi nat! I just wanted to pop in and say that regardless of what fandom you write for, the love and care you pour into your writing and into interacting with followers who care about your work as well is really obvious. you're doing this for FREE and people should appreciate what you've given us so far, since ultimately this blog should be for you, whatever that means to you at any point in time. it's ok to jump fandoms! the important thing is that you feel good about what you're producing and that it makes you happy. everyone else is just a bonus - but, seeing you on my dash certainly makes me happy : ) I hope you feel better soon!

thank you anon! i’m feeling much better and happier today. birthdays are very difficult for me (i did not think i’d be alive at eighteen, much less 25!) so this event is definitely kind of a way for me to concentrate on something else, and i’m a little bit extra sensitive atm. i appreciate you so much, thank you for the kind words!!! <3

Anonymous asked: Hello! I just wanted to say, write what YOU want and make YOUR writings as long as you'd like. 💖 To the anon who is like "We mAdE yOu FaMoUs dOnt HalF asS iT" stfu, let people do what they wanna do. If you think they half do it, write something better and longer you asshat.

this is an open invitiation to that anon to send me a link to their writing blog and i’ll hype them up i promise <3

Anonymous asked: nat i'm so so sorry about that ask please know that your older followers don't share the same opinion :( sometimes people forget about the living, breathing person behind the screen smh. you are not a machine. you absolutely should not restrict yourself to posting about one fandom forever. yes, we're first pulled in by your amazing content, but we stay for your wonderful personality and work ethic. please just keep being you, taking up projects you feel comfy with! <333 bless u

ahh thank u anon! unfortunately i actually am a writing robot, i’m sorry u had to find out this way. my jojo chip has been removed, please send it back so i can continue to not half-ass my jojo work. fgnjkbgjkfn thank you so much angel!!! i appreciate you ;_;.

Anonymous asked: i don’t think it’s fair for other people to say shit about what you choose to write about because on tumblr and other writing platforms, writers are constantly developing how they write and the fandoms that they write for. it’s not fair for someone to criticize that “you don’t care about jjba blah blah blah” because you can enjoy new shows/manga. and like you said you’ve grown so much!! proud of you nat and im glad that ive been able to read your works (sincerely other nat)

i am STILL waiting for you to come and fight me other nat fgnjkbnf. it’s nice to be enjoying different things! i am constantly learning new things and reading new works and making new friends and improving and i think that’s important. i do care about jjba - a lot! but i can care about other things too! <3

Anonymous asked: I may not be one of your oldest followers, but i've been here for almost 3 years. Yes, i started following u for ur jojo content, but let me tell u, ur newfound motivation and enthusiam for other fandoms was honestly contagiuos for me. And i say this as a person who finds very difficult to move from one interest to another. Jojo is great, but so are other fandoms. Please don't let some faceless scum rob u that motivation. This is ur blog and u r always free to write whatever u want.

honestly, i have been there! i am autistic and i have special interests and watching other people move on to stuff i’m not vibing with has made me sad in the past, but i want people to be happy more than anything and sometimes that means new things and change! <3

Anonymous asked: Hi Nat! I saw that rude anon message & I just wanted to pop in & say that they're wrong. You're not betraying anyone & you should write whatever it is you want to write. I followed you for jojo & I'm not familiar with the other fandoms that you write for, but personally it makes me SO happy to see you enjoying new things! It's always good to find joy wherever you can, so keep writing what you're interested in. There a lot of ppl who want to see you happy and healthy <3

honestly the idea of it being a GRAND BETRAYAL is so funny, i am just writing anime fanfic here and thriving!!! tysm anon! <3

Anonymous asked: Those anons can piss off! They have no right to judge how long or how short your writing is. If they want longer content write it their damn selves. I think your writing has improved wonderfully and I originally followed for Jojo and I'm enjoying all the content period. I don't even watch jujutsu ( not my cup of tea personally) but I love seeing the creativity and the interactions. You write what makes you happy Nat and that's on that! You don't owe anybody anything! I know how hard writing is and when your consuming new content it's hard to make content for something else. That doesn't mean you don't like it any more your just doing something different for a while. Love you and your content and I'm enjoying the love your putting into your content whether long or short. ♥♥💕 Sending love your way!

honestly my idea of ‘short content’ is still over 1k words, i’m not good at reeling myself in! i guess it’s bc they see like, 1.5k jojo fic versus 5k jjk fic but it’s not that i didn’t enjoy the first fic, just that the point and the story came a lot quicker and so did the natural end! thank you anon, i appreciate you ;_;

Anonymous asked: Hello! Just wanted to let your know that I think your writing is awesome, and that you should write for whoever and for whatever you want to! You dont have to stay loyal to one fandom or anything, and your followers shouldn't expect that from you! It's not like they are paying you to write, you are doing this for free, and because you enjoy it and it makes you happy! If they dont like your stuff, they dont have to follow you, they can go to other blogs that cater to their taste, and they definitely don't need to be sending you such hurtful comments, and they dont get to make you feel sad about your writing! Just because they followed you during your earlier stages of writing, doesn't mean you owe them some type of loyalty or compensation! You can write literally whatever you want as long as it makes you happy! That's what your hobby and your blog are for! I hope you know that alot of your followers love your work and think that you are an amazing writer and are down to support the work that makes you happiest! 💖💖

ahh thank you so much anon!!! i am always so bowled over by how many people are nice to me when something like this happens, i am sending you my love <3

Anonymous asked: don’t listen to them!! we love you as a writer no matter what you write, because you’re a good person and a talented writer!! you shouldn’t have to change what you write to please a bitter person, and if they only want jjba, they can go to another blog instead of bringing you down. you’re doing amazing and they should be thankful you grace us with your talents!!

to be totally honest, if i was half-assing or not vibing with content i was making i just. wouldn’t post it. like you’d be able to TELL when i was half-assing stuff just to get words out (source: i have re-read my own nanowrimo works). there are lots of great jjba blogs who could do with more followers n interaction!!! i hope they do find them and i hope they’re nice to them :(.

Anonymous asked: Please don’t pay attention to that anon. People only have that confidence when they have anon turned on. Them looking through your blog despite feeling that way is peak fan behavior and speaks to how addicting your writing is. Naturally, you can’t please everyone and there will be people who are irrational and feel entitled to tell you what to do or what to write no matter what. Trust me when I say they’re a small minority and are more likely probably passing viewers rather than regulars. I check your blog about three or more times a day because I love reading not just your fics but also your takes, banter with other anons, or even random updates. Brainrot posts? LOVE TO SEE IT!!! Desk update? AMAZING!!! With that being said, don’t feel pressured to continue pushing out content for others. Write what makes you happy! You’ve been writing for JJBA for 4 years and it’s completely normal + healthy to get into new media. I’m not sure if it would mean much, but your love for JJK has gotten me excited to start it too!!

anon i really hope you enjoy it!!! sometimes these anons remember stuff i’ve posted and said better than i do tbh, i am living in their heads rent free i guess!

Anonymous asked: I've been following you for a couple of years and honestly it would always be a joy to see when you posted. Your writing has improved and I'm very happy you're enjoying yourself ! I know it hurts hearing and seeing stuff like that but I'm happy you're here. I'm honestly blessed everytime you post. Your writing is phenomenal. I love reading it even if its characters that I dont care for. You capture their essences so well and weave an amazing tale within the prompts and whatnot. You're amazing nat!

wehh thank you so much!!! re: the improvement, i really don’t feel like it has and then i re-read something i wrote when i first started and i’m like oh my god maybe it has. did i really write about jotaro acting like that.

Anonymous asked: Hi Nat. I recently became a follower of yours and I'm really saddened to see you get hate. You seem like a genuinely sweet person with amazing talent! I'm a writer myself and, unfortunately, get the same kind of comments. And when you get those comments, it doesn't leave you feeling motivated. People need to understand that people can and will, at times, grow out of fandoms. (1 Not just that but you're doing all of this for free. Again, I'm sorry you got such a comment. But please know that I'm proud of how far you've come. I'm proud that you're living a life that makes you happy. And no matter what fandom you may find yourself in next, I will always enjoy your writing. Take care of yourself. (2 end

HELLO NEW FOLLOWER I LOVE YOU (i get a lot more a day now than i used to and i feel guilty about not being able to look through so many blogs but i do try and follow back other writers for my fandoms!! ;_;). i’m sorry you get the same kind of comments! i’m always just happy to see people i like enjoying new things, even if i have no interest in it (hello to all of my mutuals who write for hunter x hunter and haikyuu, not interested but i’m sure you’re having a great time and i support you!!!).

Anonymous asked: I'm sure you're getting a barrage of supportive messages now (at least I hope so) but I figured I'd add my voice, because I'm a longtime follower. Your writing is, and always has been, wonderful. I've been so happy to see you and Haz get to a place that works for you both. Idk if it's obvious for everyone, but you seem like you're emotionally in a pretty good place most of the time these days, and it makes me really happy to see that. I followed years ago for JJBA content, but I stayed because regardless of what content you put out, I find your wit delightful. And I'll stick around even if you move fandoms entirely, because whatever content or editorializing you produce is going to be worth reading, regardless of what it's for.

ahh, anon!! thank you for sticking around so long, sorry if you’re old enough to have been around the vore and jorts and spider rohan fiascos! <3 i am definitely a lot more stable than i have been and - barring the Pandemic Related Mental Health Issues - happier! i’m glad that it’s noticeable! <3

Anonymous asked: It actually makes me mad how entitled some people are. Nat, you're not a content creating machine and those who expect you to be are not worth wasting a thought on. Your love for something is not measured in word counts and for you to write every day without getting burned out in the slightest you really must have a burning passion and huge dedication to your craft. If others decide to send hate then allow me to send admiration because I can feel your love and hard work in each post you make!

i try and write every day bc it’s super good for my little ocd/autistic brain to have routines and distract itself, so i’m glad other people can enjoy them because that makes me motivated to carry on! like, i write for myself mostly bc the content i want i sometimes get find, but filling requests and writing for other people also leaves me with happy warm fuzzies too! i appreciate you!! <3

Anonymous asked: If people only care about your writing for the jojo porn that’s on THEM, not you. Your writing was amazing when I followed about a year ago, and it’s only gotten better and will continue to get better! I think it really comes through when you enjoy what you’re writing and it adds a whole other layer of worth to it, because not only are you making free content but you LIKE that content and we can all gush about it together!!! More than just fans, I think you’ve created a community here and we don’t just stick around to read smut, I promise you that. -Reronon

i do miss having a discord community bc it was nice to talk to everyone in real time but it was hard work, i am glad that people feel like they can just come into my askbox and gush! i’m not very friendly in real life and people tend to think i am cold and stuck up so i work very hard to try and seem friendly and approachable online, which is much easier for me because i get to think and re-draft before i type! <3

Anonymous asked: Hi Nat! I’m sure you’re getting a lot of messages like this right now but I just wanted to say for what it’s worth that, as a person who originally followed you for jjba content and hasn’t watched/read any of the other series you’re currently writing for, I’m honestly still along for the ride. This is your blog and you’re allowed to do what you want with it and put out what content you feel like writing. Sometimes??? People acquire new interests??????? Shocking! I know absolutely nothing about jjk or bnha but out of curiosity still read some of your posts about them and even though I might not Get It, I still enjoy them because I think you’re a very talented writer! Honestly, as long as you’re still writing, I’m still down to clown, and whenever you take breaks (which are important!) I’ll still be waiting for your return or supporting and respecting your decision to stay away longer. Don’t let the entitled assholes get you down. Utilize YOUR blog and YOUR space however YOU choose. Your talent and kindness speak for themselves. Love you!!! ❤️❤️❤️

anon i care about you and i am so appreciative of you and everyone for sending me such nice messages! i am running out of ways to say it but it’s true, it really does mean a lot to me ;_; <3

#nat.txt

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cracknoir · 2 years

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I want to know more about how Jimmy befriended Kayleigh, Frankie, and Jack.

ax me a question.

so just up top, i don't actually know what a meta is but im picking up the vibes that basically i just ramble about something which as we all know is RIGHT up my street so here we fucking go

I have to say, this is subject to change, but listen, you're not always best friends with someone straight away. That's not to say you're enemies just cos you don't know each other, but i guess my point is jimmy met jack and frankie and knew them before he considered them ride or die. Frankie took his little brother to america after Jack got out of a juvenile detention center, see jack bottled someone at a football game -- it was essentially an accident, as much as something like that can be.

I think Jack thought this would be a fresh start, but when he got to america, he hated it.

Frankie was in a bit of a different situation, see, Frankie was in fuck it mode. he'd just lost everything, and was lying to jack telling him he was on the run from mobsters when really his alcoholism had torn his marriage apart.

Frankie got in with Elizabeth, Elizabeth sold a metric fuck tonne of drugs out of her apartment block, she had her own heavies, and while she wasn't exactly a "gang" she was associated with a few. She was very much the connection between street-level and the more organized stuff going on in the city, Frankie had worked for Arthur Thomson (or maybe an analogue for him, feels weird to throw in one random real gangster but this is a meta - i don't know if i would ever write about this stuff outside of something like this), so he knew generally how to schmooz his way up the ladder relatively quickly, and had previous connections in america due to his time there in idk, the 80s or something, i'm not saying he'd been to america but maybe the other way around - this is where it all gets a bit hazy, this is the sort of nuts and bolts of the situations.

POINT IS when jimmy entered the situation he was only like maybe sixteen, jack was seventeen and the roles were very much reversed at the start - i'm sort of getting ahead of myself but jack very much thought he was looking out for jimmy, despite jimmy doing some crazy stuff. I know he doesn't seem it, but jack can fucking scrap, he's not really a weapons man -- sure, he WILL shoot, but the way jimmy and jack worked together was very much mafia style, that's to say close-range doing someone in in their car kind of deal.

SO jack was down, missed his old life, and frankie had been saying he should get out more. Jack sold drugs too, so would sometimes come with frankie to Elizabeths. So, Jimmy, Jack and Frankie had all sort of met, in that kind of "oh, this is my friend who happens to be in my house while you're here" "hi hows it goin" way. i know, i know, you're probably thinking jesus boab, you've written a thesis just to say "they just been knowin each other", but listen, my point with this is like, some people might have mad stories of how they met their best friend, but i bet a vast majority are kinda like this.

They grew closer after a party, only minorly, Jimmy would buy weed off of jack, stop at his house, the two would talk -- and this is important, because jimmy didn't talk to many people back then. Frankie liked to pretend he'd adopted Jimmy, and honestly with Jimmy's unhealthy obsession with father-figures you'd think it would be a match made in heaven, but even when he was a kid Jimmy would sort of push back against this -- assert his dominance, sort of put frankie in his place every so often if he was being a dick, especially when it came to women. Listen, i can't rightly say Jimmy's an ally to women in any way shape or form, but frankie's worse.

The night everything went down, and Jimmy killed Elizabeth, he hid out at jacks, the two did coke and talked the whole night, wide-eyed in jacks kitchen, smoking an unhealthy amount of cigarettes and weed going over and over and over and over what happened the night before. Jimmy put a hole in jacks wall, and instead of going nuts, jack shook jimmy's hand.

So kayleigh came in later, and i'm not gonna lie, is underdeveloped in the whole backstory regard. i have a really good grasp on her character, and i'm not gonna lie, i find her kind of boring to rp because of how little conflict she herself has going on. this is getting really fucking long and i'm only just touching on kayleigh. wild. anyways my point is she knows what she's about, she's sort of the mother of the group, the heart, and as much as i'm saying i find her boring to rp she actually gets quite a lot of play in the first draft of the novel i wrote, im not saying she's at all like marty mcfly but like what i mean is some characters are static, some don't have arcs, at the point i pick up in the story on the mAd TiMeLiNe she knows exactly what she's about. So this is just all explanation for some really boring backstory which is just "she decided to move to america bc apparently her brothers were doing well and moms dead so whatever", she came over, and while during the sort of mafia years she was definitely apart of the CREW that did JOBS, that was never what she wanted to do. idk especially with the scottish characters they're not like movie characters they're more people i know. i know girls who, and it may just be because of the utter ineptitude of us blokes, are basically mothers. now these girls can party as hard as the boys, they can scrap, but there's this added layer of i will look after you if you need to spew. im literally just talking about empathy but as a boy i can tell u that shit is rare, you gotta coax empathy out of us. while jack is jimmy's best friend, he's not too bright, kayleigh however doesn't steer jimmy wrong. she tends his bar, she's happy. she was always a good friend to zoe too. everyone was, and that went a long way with jimmy. she was one of the only ones who repeatedly tried to get zoe clean, but she was never a pushover either. Jack, Frankie, they would give her money sometimes because they didn't understand the way kayleigh did.

if u cba reading all this basically: jimmy jack and frankie started hanging after they all partied together and then kayleigh joined in for the banter

#boab rambles for 4 hours #do i have a headcanon tag yet??

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 6: You Know You Got Me In The Palm Of Your Hand]

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Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Mean It by Lauv.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex and violence, slavery in American history.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @writerxinthedark @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @loveandbeloved29

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

What The Fuck, Washington Animals Are Weird

I woke up in a bedroom drenched in a rainbow of darkness, shades of grey vacillating from charcoal to the wings of a mourning dove; indolent dawn rain pattered against the window. There were no glaring veins of sunlight spilling in through gaps in the curtains, no promise of dry invigorating heat, no whistle of vicious parched wind. Toto, we’re not in Phoenix anymore.

“Ugh,” I complained to the empty room, unraveling from a tangle of blankets patterned with cacti and pure white clouds and rust-orange suns.

I clicked off my iPhone alarm—I’d beaten it by two minutes; my circadian rhythm was finally conceding that this whole Pacific Time thing was permanent—and read my nine new texts from Joe.

3:12 a.m.: Hey it’s an emergency what’s the plural of octopus

3:13 a.m.: Rami is insisting that it is octopuses

3:14 a.m.: But it’s octopi, right? Right?? I just announced in front of everyone that it’s octopi

3:15 a.m.: Scarlett is verbally abusing me

3:18 a.m.: Oh you are probably asleep

3:21 a.m.: Update, according to the internet Rami is right and now I have to assume a new identity and move to Antarctica

3:25 a.m.: We can discuss logistics of the Antarctica relocation tomorrow

3:26 a.m.: Hope you like penguins

3:30 a.m.: Okay goodnight!! Don’t let the mythical creatures bite!!

“That man,” I murmured to myself, smiling.

I typed out: It’s definitely octopuses, you clown. Then I deleted ‘clown’ and replaced it with its Italian equivalent: pagliaccio. Text sent.

Joe responded almost instantly. I had to ask Lucy what pagliaccio meant and now she’s verbally abusing me too. Send help. See you at lunch. xx

Wait, two Xs? What did Xs mean?? Kisses???

Did Joseph Francis Mazzello, sexy undead Italian man, just send me multiple text kisses?

“You’re gonna give me an aneurism, Chicago boy,” I muttered at my phone as I slid it into the pocket of my flannel pajama pants. And then I glanced out the bedroom window into a tussle of rain and thick, caliginous fog.

Just a few feet beyond the misted glass, its leathery talons hooked around a branch of Charlie’s decades-old red alder tree, was an owl. But not just any owl. A hulking, spotlessly white owl.

“Oh, hey, you,” I whispered, leaning closer, pressing my palms against the cold window. My hands left transparent imprints in the condensation. “Hey, buddy. Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? I sure wish I was. Did something wake you up? Did your idiot vampire boyfriend disturb you with a series of ridiculous texts?”

The owl just contemplated me with unnervingly vast, slick, engrossed eyes. And there was something else, too: those eyes were blood red.

“So you’re an albino owl, huh big guy? Good for you. You know, usually albino animals don’t last all that long in the wild. Because they’re really easy for predators and prey to spot. Or they get skin cancer. So congratulations on living to become the voluptuous, tremendously creepy creature that you are today. Job well done.”

The owl stared back at me unflinchingly, blinked, then resumed staring. Rainwater gathered in swelling beads like blood drops on its ivory-colored beak and talons.

“Well,” I noted, turning away and grabbing my shower towel off the back of the desk chair. “You don’t get that in Arizona.”

Thirty minutes later, I was bounding down the stairs two at a time to meet Charlie in the kitchen. He was browsing through his daily newspaper at the table, drinking coffee and nibbling messily on burnt triangles of toast. Crumbs littered his moustache.

“You didn’t tell me that living here came with the added benefit of freaky albino animal friends.”

Charlie crinkled his forehead at me. “Huh?”

“How was bowling with the dads last night?”

“Oh, awesome!” he exclaimed, folding up his newspaper and slapping it down on the table. “We bowled against the team from Mora and it came right down to the wire, but we caught them. Dr. Lee got a strike on his very last turn. He always seems to do that...he’ll be bowling hit or miss all night and then when it really matters he manages to pull a strike out of nowhere. He’s a beast.”

“He’s a pretty remarkable guy,” I agreed, rummaging through the cabinets for Pop-Tarts.

“He mentioned that you and his son were really hitting it off,” Charlie said, grinning. “Not the ragey blond one. The spindly annoying one. What’s his name again? Josh? Jimmy?”

“Joe.” I conjured up my best poker face of lofty indifference. It crumbled like a sandcastle beneath reckless, rushing footsteps.

“Ohhhh, I saw that!” Charlie said, pointing, delighted. “Check out that smile. My gorgeous, brilliant progeny has a crush. I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be single for long up here. Alright, I’m ready. Bring on the grandchildren.”

“Shut up,” I pleaded good-naturedly.

“Relax, I have great news. According to Gwil, that Joe kid is pretty wild about you too.”

“Oh, is that what you old guys do between bowling turns? Betray your children’s deepest confidences? Matchmake them over nachos and chili cheese dogs?” Still, my curiosity was piqued. “What else did Dr. Lee say about Joe?”

“I think the exact word he used was...” Charlie reminisced, sipping his coffee, curls of steam pouring over the rim of the mug. “Smitten.”

Supernatural Pictionary

I turned the notebook to Joe so he could see; everyone else momentarily covered their eyes or looked away. Then Lucy started the timer on her iPhone. Thirty seconds.

“Go!” Lucy announced.

“I think it’s a boat,” Rami said, hesitantly, haltingly, squinting at Joe with great concentration.

“Do you?” Joe teased.

“Yeah. But I’m also getting something about a fish.”

“Maybe I’m trying to make you think it’s a fish because it’s actually a boat,” Joe replied flippantly.

Rami muttered: “Or you want me to think it’s a boat because it’s actually a fish.”

“Interesting.”

“Now you’re mentally singing Never Gonna Give You Up just to fuck with me.”

Joe gasped, pressing a palm to his chest. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do!”

Scarlett snickered, dunking her chicken tender in honey mustard, slurping Coke through a straw clenched between crimson-painted lips. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“Fifteen seconds,” Lucy warned.

“Fish or boat, boat or fish...” Rami chanted, peering fixedly at Joe.

“Make a decision,” I taunted, hugging the notebook to my chest.

“I’m going with boat,” Rami decided.

“Final answer?” Lucy asked, then stopped the timer when Rami nodded.

“Loser!” Joe cackled victoriously, leaping out of his chair, waving his L-shaped fingers in the air. Calawah University students at nearby tables glanced over with wide, startled eyes, their beloved chicken tenders briefly forgotten. “How’s it feel to not win every round of a game, huh?! Loser!”

I flipped my notebook so Rami could see the extremely unskilled pencil sketch I’d drawn there: a smiling fish. “My condolences.”

“Damn.” Rami pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it across the table to Joe. Joe snatched it up, tucked it into the waistline of his jeans like a stripper collecting money in her G-string, and slung his arm around my shoulders.

“We are the champions. Bask in our glory.”

Scarlett turned on her iPhone flashlight and waved it in slow arcs over her head. “Youuuuu are the champions, my friendssssss...”

From my usual lunch table, Jessica gazed at my esteemed place among the Lees with palpable envy, resting her chin in her hands. I had worked out a schedule that seemed fairly obvious given my extensive experience as a child of divorce: lunch with Jessica et al. one day, lunch with the Lees the next. I took a bite of the Chipotle veggie bowl that Joe had insisted on ordering for me and tossed Jessica a sympathetic wave. Get Ben’s Snapchat for me! she mouthed back. I harbored serious doubts that Benjamin August Hardy, former professional assassin, born in 1893, had a Snapchat.

Joe’s words from last week rolled around in my head; I could see him all over again, nodding to the enormous painting hung in Gwil’s upstairs office, telling me about those startling, ethereal figures who had initiated Ben into life as a vampire. They call themselves the Draghi. They collect dues from covens, offer protection, keep order, protect our secrets. But they also demand loyalty. They force people they want into service. They might try to make it seem like you have a choice, but you don’t. They destroy anyone who tries to resist them. And they feed on humans.

“This is so awesome,” Lucy sighed, elated. “We could never play Pictionary before, drawing something is way too much of a mental process, Rami always figured it out right away...”

But now they had a built-in blindfold, someone who could draw without Rami getting a peek into their thoughts, a fighting chance at hiding the truth from him...for thirty seconds, at least.

“Okay Benny Boy, you’re up.” Joe darted over to Ben’s side of the table and massaged his tense, muscular shoulders as Ben grimaced. “You got this. I believe in you. Baby Swan is gonna pitch you a home run.”

“I’ll pass,” Ben said.

“You can’t!” Lucy cried. “Ben, please? Rami got Scarlett’s, and then he didn’t get Joe’s...and I know he’s going to see though me immediately. You’re our only chance to tie things up and maybe beat him!”

“Traitor,” Rami told Lucy affectionately.

“Uhh...” Ben hesitated, glimpsing longingly at the doors that led outside to the grove of bigleaf maple trees. He was fidgeting restlessly with his vape pen.

“Come on, Benny!” Joe begged. “I’ll owe you. I’ll do anything.”

Ben perked up a little bit. “You’ll do my Calc 2 homework for a month?”

Joe groaned theatrically, but nodded. He was wearing a grey U Chicago hoodie today. “Fine. Okay. But you’re gonna have to learn that shit eventually, I can’t take the MCAT for you.”

“Deal.” Ben bumped his knuckles against Joe’s.

“Batter up,” Joe heralded in his best mock-umpire voice, grinning at me expectantly, drumming the table with his palms. “Go Baby Swan, go! What will she choose? Will she continue with the nautical theme? Will she change it up, maybe switch to beloved Chicago landmarks? Baseball or food? Will she invent a variety of pizza even more despicable than pineapple?”

“Hm.” I flipped to a fresh notebook page, scratched my temple with the eraser end of the pencil, then quickly sketched a picture for Ben. “Okay, I’m ready.” I showed the drawing to Ben while everyone else covered their eyes.

Ben shook his head, scowling. “You’ll have to try again. I have no idea what that is.”

“Really?!” I checked the picture again. Okay, it definitely didn’t belong in the Louvre or anything, but it was lifelike enough to be decipherable. “You don’t recognize it? At all?”

“No,” Ben replied flatly.

From behind his shielded eyes, Rami scanned through the images in Ben’s mind. He dropped his hands onto the table. “SpongeBob?!”

“Who...?” Ben ventured.

Everyone else looked too. “Oh yeah, that’s definitely SpongeBob,” Joe said, then chuckled. “Aww, Baby Swan, you even remembered his little necktie!”

“It’s so cute!” Lucy trilled.

Ben just stared at the picture, blinking, completely lost, increasingly morose. And now there was a new guest at the table; or maybe not a new one, maybe just a quiet one, something that perched on the ledge of every conversation and field of vision just waiting to tap its claws against the wall and make its presence known: that interminable reminder of Ben’s unconventional past life, of how incomparable his vampiric upbringing was to those of the rest of the Lee kids.

“Benny Boy, you’ve never seen SpongeBob?” Joe inquired gently. “No problem. We’ll have a marathon tonight. I have the entire series on DVD. Also several Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy action figures.”

Scarlett snorted. “This is why you’ve been single since Hoover was president.”

“I wasn’t single the whole time,” Joe corrected.

“Oh, really?” Not that I’m interested, my voice suggested. I was a total liar. I was super interested. Thank the great deity that Rami and Ben couldn’t read me like a restaurant menu. Today’s specials are Being In Love With Someone Wildly Inappropriate for $15.99, and also Lamenting My Own Lack Of Sexual Experience for $11.99. Oh, and clam chowder.

“He had a couple of...what would you call them?” Scarlett combed her elegant fingers through her voluminous blonde hair. “What’s the modern vernacular? Fuck buddies? Booty calls? Netflix and chill partners?”

My stomach lurched; I nonchalantly buried my fork in a mountain of guacamole and left it there. I kept my lips turned up into a smile like a mask. Of course he’s loved other people. Duh. He’s hot and immortal. Get over it. But that didn’t calm my pounding heartbeat at all, didn’t soothe that sudden and irrational melancholy.

“Whoa whoa whoa, okay, you’re making it sound way worse than it was,” Joe protested, glancing at me nervously.

Scarlett continued: “It wasn’t serious, whatever it was. None of them would have cared about your action figure collection or obsession with a city you haven’t lived in for fifty years. It wasn’t your personality they wanted. Thank god.”

Oh this is bad, I thought helplessly. How am I ever going to be able to compete with the memory of countless gorgeous vampire girlfriends?

“Uh, ScarJo, you’re single too.” And Joe’s nickname for her was strangely apt; Scarlett could pass for Scarlett Johansson’s younger, blonder, much hotter sister. And Scarlett Johansson, in case you’re somehow unaware, is already pretty fucking hot.

Scarlett flashed a grin. “Entirely by choice.”

“And much to Mercy’s eternal and profound concern,” Lucy told me. “She stages an intervention at least twice a month. Did I overhear one last week, Scarlett?”

“Oh jesus, yeah. I was like, ‘Mom, what the hell do I need a husband for? I have my own money. I can fix household appliances. I have a vibrator. I’m good to go.’”

Joe rocked back in his chair, howling. “You did not tell Mom that!”

“I did. She was so distraught. She just kind of pinched her eyes shut and shuddered and then went out back to feed the alpacas.”

“Scarlett, babe,” Rami managed between gales of laughter. “A vibrator isn’t going to keep you company for all of eternity. It’s not a suitable substitute for a life partner.”

“You’re right. It’s even better. It’ll never abandon or disappoint me. Assuming I keep the batteries fresh, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Lucy giggled into her hands.

“She’s not wrong,” I said, shrugging, sipping my Diet Coke.

And Joe peered over at me, surprised, intrigued, slowly raising his thin dark eyebrows. I winked back. Yeah, okay, I’ve never slept with someone. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had an orgasm.

“Ah, loud thoughts! Loud thoughts! Joe, please!” Rami moaned, pressing his balled fists to his forehead.

Ben smirked. “There’s a color I’ve never seen from you before, Joe.”

“This family is the worst!” Joe exploded.

“I like that girl,” Scarlett decided, signaling to me with glossy maroon fingernails. “She can stay.”

Joe sighed, flustered, then shook it off as he turned to me. “You coming over tonight?”

“I can’t spend every night at your house petting alpacas, mob guy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling, draping his arm around the back of my chair. “Why not?”

“Well, my tonight-specific reason is that I’m visiting a friend.”

“Cool. Your friends are my friends. Can I visit too?”

“You’re aware that you’re a legit stalker, right?” But actually, Archer was dying to meet Joe: the loud Lee, the approachable Lee, the Lee who I definitely liked more than a Tinder swipe could ever convey. This could work. “Offer to buy dinner and you can come.”

“I’m a walking Visa, baby.”

Ben stood, hauled on his backpack, gathered up his trash to throw away. “I need a smoke break before Chem. See you guys later.”

“Don’t forget!” Joe called after him. “SpongeBob marathon starts at 8! I’ll bring the Milk Duds!”

And when Ben disappeared through the doors, a solemn hush descended over the table.

“Poor guy,” Lucy said softly. The other Lees nodded.

And again, I recalled what Joe had told me in Gwil’s office, what he had said when I asked how Ben came to join the Lee family. He was assigned to us, to be the liaison to our coven. And Gwil saw something in him. Potential, suffering, unrealized decency, I don’t know. But Gwil worked on him for years, trying to convince Ben to leave the Draghi when his contract was up and come live with us. To give a peaceful life a try. And to be honest, Ben never seemed interested. But something must have resonated with him, because we opened the front door on October 15th, 2016 and he was sitting on the steps of our porch with a single suitcase, puffing on that fucking vape pen and watching the storm clouds roll in off the Pacific Ocean.

But why would they just let him leave? I had asked, tracing my fingertips over the uncanny and magnificent faces in that painting. Why would they let him live?

Because they know how valuable he is. And because they think they can get him back.

“I think he’s a good person,” I said, breaking the silence. “You know. Underneath the whole being raised to be a killing machine thing.”

“Yeah,” Rami replied, frowning thoughtfully. “Just try not to spend too much time alone with him.”

Car Jacks And Sneak Attacks

“Joe, this is Archer James Foxchild, my first-ever best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Joe said, shaking Archer’s oil-stained hand. “I understand you are really good at making mud pies and poking dead animals with sticks.”

Archer chuckled. “It’s true. We found a shark tooth down at La Push one time and I convinced Baby Swan here that it was from a sea monster. She had nightmares for months. Charlie called my dad over it and I got my Game Boy taken away.”

“No!” Joe gasped in horror. “Were you a Pokémon guy?”

“For sure.”

“Ruby or Sapphire?”

“Emerald.”

Joe grinned. “This dude knows what’s up.”

“And to think, my grandpa tried to tell me that you guys were freaks,” Archer replied.

“Well,” Joe conceded. “Not all of us.”

“Maybe you two should start dating,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit in my Honda and eat my Taco Bell cheese quesadillas and Cinnamon Twists and try not to interrupt all the sex.”

“Yes, you brought Taco Bell,” Archer sighed euphorically. “Give me five minutes, I just gotta finish rotating these tires real quick.” He jogged to the other end of the garage, knelt beside a Ford Mustang that was propped up on a jack, and starting twisting off lug nuts with a tire iron.

“You have a nice place here,” Joe observed, strolling around the small garage with his hands in the front pocket of his U Chicago hoodie, eyeing the fractures in the concrete floor and the spidering cracks in the windows. “You have any investors?”

“Are you kidding?!” Archer replied from the Mustang. “No, man, it’s just me. I rent for now, but at some point I’ll buy my own shop. Once I’ve saved up enough. A great big one with shiny new equipment and no mice squeaking behind the walls.”

“What’s your cash flow like?”

“I’m netting around three grand a month after taxes.”

“Not bad!” Joe noted admiringly.

“Yeah. It’s a hustle, but I love it.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you’d be interested—and absolutely no pressure if you’re not, really—but I do a lot of work with start-ups and I’d love to help you get into your own shop. By this Christmas, preferably. If we can work out a deal.”

“Really?!” Archer peeked incredulously over the hood of the Mustang.

“Absolutely.”

Archer beamed at me. “This guy is willing to drop serious cash to look good in front of you. You should probably marry him. No prenup though.”

I held my pinky out towards Joe, grinning. “No more sad prenups.”

He laughed and hooked my pinky with his. “Bankrupt me, bitch.”

I heard the metallic clang of a lug nut hitting the concrete floor and rolling under the Mustang. “Come back here, you bastard,” Archer muttered, then dropped to his stomach and crawled beneath the car.

“Hey, kid, be careful,” I fretted, crossing my arms across my chest and taking a step closer.

“Relax, Baby Swan, I am a professional, changing a tire for me is like feeding a fish for you, so just chill and keep fantasizing about those Cinnamon Twists—”

There was a squeal of metal as the car jack collapsed and the Mustang came crashing down. In a fraction of a second—faster than I could see him moving, faster than I could loose a scream—Joe had soared across the garage, yanked Archer out from beneath the falling Mustang, and dragged him to the center of the room.

“Oh fuck,” Archer wheezed, his dark eyes huge and fascinated and horrified. “Grandpa was right.”

I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

We rolled up to the Lee house in my 1999 Honda Accord just as I polished off the last of my Cinnamon Twists and Archer chewed, tentatively and dazedly, on a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The sun was beginning to set in a clouded sky that perpetually threatened rain.

He asked Joe for the fifth time from the back seat: “But wait, seriously, no one is going to eat me, right? Because I’m too young to die. I haven’t taken enough vacations yet. I can’t die without seeing Hawaii. I want to swim with the sea turtles.”

“No, none of us have ever eaten people. Well, almost none of us. Maybe stay away from Ben.”

“I would like a little more exposition,” Archer replied, blanching.

“Hey, if you stay until 8, you guys can join us for the SpongeBob marathon!”

Gwil and Mercy were waiting on the front porch, thanks to Joe’s ‘hey I accidentally exposed myself as a paranormal being and now we have a new friend, plz don’t be mad okay love you see you soon!1!!’ text.

“Welcome, sweetheart!” Mercy fussed, enfolding Archer into her arms as soon as he stepped out of the Honda. “Would you like some hummingbird cake? I just baked it this morning. And maybe some sweet tea too. And some peanut butter cookies. And banana pudding.”

“Sure,” he responded, bewildered. This lady does not seem like a bloodsucking demon, that voice said. And he was absolutely right.

“I’ll fix you up a tray,” Mercy promised, and hurried into the house.

“We’re so very happy to have you, Mr. Foxchild.” Gwil shook Archer’s hand firmly. “We don’t get many visitors around here. I’m sure you understand why.”

“My grandpa always insisted that there was something off about you guys. Especially you, Dr. Lee. Said you shouldn’t still be around.”

“Yes, I imagine that would have been disconcerting for him. He must have remembered us from the 1940s...that’s the last time we settled down in Forks. It’s not often that someone recognizes us after so long, but it happens. It was just Mercy and me and Rami and Joe back then. And look how far we’ve come.” Gwil beamed warmly, then turned to Joe. “But really, son, you’re going to have to stop telling humans about us.”

“Hold up, I was not responsible for her!” Joe exclaimed, waving at me. “Take it up with Ben!”

The garage door rumbled open and Scarlett sauntered out, wiping her filthy hands with a rag. She halted abruptly, stood there in her high-waisted vintage jeans and black crop top and bare feet with maroon-colored toenails, tilted her head and pondered Archer with an innocent sort of curiosity that I hadn’t seen from her before.

“Wait,” Archer said, gaping. “Is that...is that an Aston Martin Vantage in there?!”

“You bet,” Scarlett replied. “You want to learn how to work on it?”

“Uh, hell to the yeah!” He trotted over and they vanished into the garage together.

“Huh,” Joe muttered, watching them. “She was nice to him. Very weird.” He whirled back to me. “Anyway, come on. I promised you an education in classic rock music. And I shall deliver.”

Joe’s bedroom was a chaotic jumble of economics textbooks and Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and U Chicago apparel and action figures and comic books and classic rock posters. There was a massive Italian flag tacked to the wall above his bed. But what caught my attention immediately was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ben lurking in the corner by a bookshelf full of cassette tapes.

“How is there any possible logical explanation for that?” I asked, pointing.

“Oh, that! That was a joke. When Ben first showed up, he pretty much lived in his room and never came out. Gwil was worried. Mercy was heartbroken. So I made a cardboard cutout of him and would bring it to family activities and do this really deep and seductive Ben voice when I pretended to have conversations with him. It gave the whole situation some levity...and I think Ben secretly liked that we missed him enough to make an artificial version to fill the void.”

“So this bitchy, brooding, blood-craving Ben I met is actually a drastic improvement?”

“Oh, Baby Swan,” Joe confided, almost sadly. “You have no idea what he was like four years ago.”

“I’m glad he has you. All of you. That he has a chance to get better.”

“I think you might be good for him too. Seeing a human as a real person instead of a walking, talking Hi-C juice box. And you care about him, don’t you? Despite everything.”

“Of course. It’s not his fault they taught him to be a monster.”

Joe just looked at me for a while, and then he cradled my face with one hand and grazed a thumb across my cheek “You’re never going to stop saying things that knock me into next week, are you?”

“Joe...” I hesitated, laying my hand over his. His skin was smooth and yielding yet strong, cool yet not unnaturally so. Refreshing. Safe. Fan-fucking-tastic. Oh noooooo. “Are we a thing?”

“Why? Do you want to be a thing?”

“Oh, uh, no, I was just wondering if we were.”

He stepped away, teasing me with a crooked smirk. “...So you don’t want to be a thing?”

“What would that entail?”

“Well...we’d be an official thing, you and me.” He shot finger guns at me, and then towards himself. “Which means you can’t be a thing with anyone else. And neither can I.”

“Ahhh, I see. So this thing is an exclusive thing.”

“Will you shut up and just admit that you’d totally be thrilled to be a thing with me?”

“Fine. Whatever. We’re a thing.”

“Nice.” He high-fived me.

“This is the most romantic moment of my life.”

“But wait, there’s more.” He went to the bookshelf, browsed through his cassette tape collection, found the one he wanted and popped it into a boombox that was probably older than I was. The frantic opening piano notes of I’d Do Anything For Love poured out.

“Meat Loaf,” I said in disbelief. “Really. This is the product of your superior taste in music. This is the culmination of over a century of musical experience. Meat Loaf.”

“The man is a genius!”

“This is all an elaborate joke about my vegetarianism, isn’t it?”

“No,” Joe mused. “But now that you mention it, I have yet another reason to force you to appreciate this song.” He took my hand in his, spun me around like a ballerina in a slow and careful circle, sang along—with extreme and dramatic enthusiasm—to the music.

“And I would do anything for love

I'd run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I'd never lie to you and that's a fact...”

“I don’t dance,” I cautioned him, laying a palm against his chest to catch my balance. That brisk, comforting scent of pine and snow and peppermint was everywhere. It feels like I can’t stand to be away from him. Like I’ll never get close enough. “I am terribly uncoordinated. I will step all over your feet. And I’m really not sure if I can trust you. You didn’t even know the plural form of octopus until like eighteen hours ago. You’re kind of a disaster. A, you know, uh, unexpectedly charming, unconventionally super cute, kind of bizarrely enchanting disaster.”

“Yeah,” Joe whispered, smiling, tilting up my chin, leaning in to kiss me. “I like you too.”

Cato

He came out of the oak trees like a ghost, pushing aside massive chandeliers of Spanish moss that blotted out the dusk sun, his expensive shoes sloshing in the marshy water that flooded the rice field. He was wearing a full suit, but no top hat; his hair was black and chin-length and wild around his face. And at first I thought he was a hallucination, a dream conjured by heat sickness or those first dreaded signs of malaria. He was unnervingly, uncommonly beautiful; beautiful like a hurricane, beautiful like lightning or an eclipse. But he was real. I straightened up as I watched him approach, my back aching in protest, a basket full of seedlings slung over my shoulder.

“Mr. Cato.”

His voice, clear and beckoning and twisted by an accent I’d never heard before, rang in my skull like church bells. He called me mister. This white man called me mister.

“Yes sir?” And I almost added: You want to be careful there, sir. The water moccasins like to hide among the tree roots, especially when the sun starts going down. But I had an inexplicable feeling that this man wasn’t afraid of things like snakes. Maybe the snakes should be afraid of him.

“Mr. Cato,” he said again, this time to himself, very quietly, tasting it.

I kept trying to look away, to disentangle my gaze from him like a hook out of a sturgeon’s mouth, because staring piercingly and astonished at a white man like that in the rice swamps of South Carolina in 1851 could get me beaten or the lash, could get my teeth pried right out of my jaw. But it didn’t seem to bother him. He grinned, hugely, all-knowingly, under prehistoric golden eyes like an alligator’s. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he was proud.

“Do you want to be free?” he asked, almost hissed, still grinning from the tree line.

What kind of question was that? Did a sandpiper want to fly? Did a coyote want dirt under its paws and flesh disappearing down its throat? But that wasn’t something you ever confessed aloud, not if you wanted your feet on the ground instead of swinging ten inches above it. But this man wasn’t a master, wasn’t an overseer. He wasn’t from the South. He didn’t carry a whip or a club to remind you of the rules of the world. He stood there tall and radiant in the shadows of the fading daylight like he was the one who wrote the rules to begin with; which meant that maybe he could change them. “Yes sir.”

“I can only take you,” the man warned. “No others. No family. No friends.”

“No trouble, sir,” I told him. “They sold my family. They hanged my friends.”

The man’s grin stretched wider under glinting eyes. His canine teeth were sharp, I realized: like a coyote’s, like a snake’s fangs. He held out his hand. “We are going to get along very well, you and I.”

I let the basket fall from my shoulder. I slogged through the mud and rows of wispy verdant rice plants to meet him in the shade of the oak trees. And there, for the first time in forever, a man with skin the color of bones looked me dead in the eye and shook my scarred hand.

“Welcome, Cato,” he whispered; and I was home.

He took my face in his cool palms, gingerly, reverently, like a lover. He touched his teeth to my throat. And every nerve ending in my body flooded with wildfire as he dragged me, screaming, into the depths of the forest.

60 notes · View notes

angerissuesandrews · 4 years

Text

Hello! Welcome to the Reddie Fic Rec!

Please make sure you read all tags on fics before reading!

Have fun and enjoy :)))

Created by Evan (@iwannadie4000 on tiktok)

And special thanks to Charlie (@hippityhoppe on tiktok) for helping!

*CLICK HERE FOR THE GOOGLE DOC REC LINK!*

1. ON POINTE

by tossertozier (rednoseredhair); Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12519724

“Eddie was a freshman at Boston University of the arts, majoring in dance with a concentration in ballet. He went to sleep early, woke up earlier & took nothing for granted. He fucking hated his dorm neighbors, loud, obnoxious idiots who got drunk all the time. They didn't even know where the library on campus was. He didn't have any idea how the three of them, especially the one with curly hair, even GOT into that school.

2. BRIGHT AS YELLOW

by speakslow; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12786678

Highschool AU, Richie’s loud Eddie’s annoyed what do you expect

3. WONDER VIOLET

by belby; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13179045

Eddie’s friends with Richie’s sister ,,, you know what happens

4. GO WEST

by ssstrychnine; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327069

“1996: Richie and Eddie finish school, drive to San Francisco, change their lives ft. hair braiding, a fake las vegas wedding, waterfalls, bumper cars, and approx. 3300 miles.”

5. I LEFT MY UMBRELLA AT HOME

by hippityhoppy; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775233

“By 1996, the Losers are well into college. As they often do, life and time have distanced them in more ways than one. Richie, in an attempt to cling to the normalcy of the past in what feels like a steep slope into a downward spiral, ends up on an unfamiliar doorstep of an all too familiar friend. As if Eddie didn't have to deal with enough on his own plate. The both of them, they quickly come to find out, are unprepared for the storms to come.”

6. LOVESONG (A SERIES)*

by WaxAgent; Mature-Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/852234

“They're all connected, sure, but nothing comes close to the iron bonds between Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak; they have their ups and their downs, but they always have each other. A look at their lives from leaving Derry to being dragged back by a promise than both of them had long forgotten.”

*(OKAY EVAN HERE!!! I LOVE THIS FIC/SERIES SO MUCH BUT IN PART 2 IT HAS A STRANGER THINGS CROSSOVER WITH MIKE AND EL BUT I SAY SKIP THAT AND GO ON YOU DON'T MISS MUCH AND WE ALL KNOW IM SO ANTI-CROSSOVER OKAY BYE)

7. WHENEVER I’M ALONE WITH YOU

by stellarbisexual; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12182691

“Losers in college. Richie's in an alternative rock band, and Eddie has flung himself into the queer scene.”

8. SAY THAT YOU’LL STAY

by speakslow; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12474044

“Richie works at a shitty amusement park for the summer and meets some new friends. Set in 1997”

9. STAY FOR THE STORM

by inoubliable; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15442848

“Richie and Eddie had become friends almost on sight. Since they met, most of Eddie's time in Los Angeles has involved Richie in some way.

It's a little different, now that they're both famous.

It's a little different, now that they're sleeping together.

Well, to be fair, they've been sleeping together for a long time, but. No one knows, not even their friends. Eddie has been very careful about that. It's just not the sort of publicity he needs.

So when Beverly calls him that sunny Thursday morning, the last thing he expects her to say is, ‘You're fucking Richie?’”

10. COFFEE AND CARNIVAL BEARS

by StarshipDancer; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325209

“‘Eddie Kaspbrak knew how many germs were in a person’s mouth, and he would only swap spit with his fucking soulmate.’

Finding your soulmate should be pretty straightforward, but not for Eddie. Not when there were two possible candidates, and he had no idea which one it fucking was.”

11. LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE BOY(S)

by Kandakickas; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12372279

“In which Richie and Eddie go to different colleges, and all of their friends are curious about their unnamed significant others - right up until those significant others come to visit and everyone is both shocked and confused.”

12. MEET ME HALFWAY

by ShowMeAHero; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667038

“‘Richie,’ Mike says sharply. “Who are you with? Why are you in Derry?”

‘Tell him,’ Eddie whispers again.

‘Is that Eddie?’ Mike asks.

‘Tell him, Richie,’ Eddie says again, louder.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mike says, and Richie snaps, throwing his phone hard at the kitchen wall opposite them. The back smashes and the battery falls into a bowl soaking in the sink. There’s a beat of silence where Eddie and Richie stare at the battery floating in the soapy water.

‘Good work, Kobe,’ Eddie says.”

13. DREAMBOAT

by weepies; Not Rated

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073438

“‘What are you? A third grader? What the fuck is this?’ Eddie asks. He looks at Richie, confused.

‘A list of fun stuff to do, duh. Can’t you read? I thought you were studying creative writing.’ Eddie glares at Richie, who raises his hands in surrender as he chuckles. ‘Okay, okay. Hear me out. Your professor tells you to write what you know, and you said you don’t know anything. Well, sugar, here’s your opportunity to learn something about yourself.’

Dumbfounded, Eddie cannot tear his eyes away from Richie, his mouth agape. ‘You’re insane,’ Eddie says.

‘And proud,’ Richie replies.

...

In which Eddie Kaspbrak is a writer with no ideas, and Richie Tozier is a coffee shop employee bursting with creativity.”

14. TO THE GUY AT THE BUS STOP:

by Ragno; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12809109

“The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, especially if the other side of the fence is Ireland and the grass is Eddie living his own life for the first time ever away from his mom. An International Students Exchange Program is what he needs to finally stand up for himself and doing what he really wants. Who cares if he won't know anybody there? Who cares if he'll be alone in a foreign country? Who cares if he won't have his car and will need to take the bus to go anywhere?? Okay, maybe Eddie does care about that last one…But, hey, at least the real grass is really greener there. Right?”

15. CLOSER THAN MOST

by tozierbraks; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14934062/chapters/34598660

“Richie was panting slightly when he reached out an arm and grasped the man’s shoulder a little too hard. He spun rapidly, stumbling backwards away from Richie, his deep brown eyes wide in shock.

‘Eds.’ Richie breathed, his stomach twisting.

Eddie’s wide eyes narrowed in confusion while his brows knitted downwards. He pulled his shoulder out of Richie’s grip

‘Sorry, do I know you?’

college au + forgetting!eddie fic”

16. SIGNED, SOMEONE

by roughentumble; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096380/chapters/50195051

“A secret admirer/love letter AU. Richie starts leaving anonymous love letters in Eddie's locker.”

17. CLUE(LESS)

by endversed; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12468440

“Every person on this sorry planet wakes up on their seventeenth birthday with a soulmate mark somewhere on their body – but it’s not always easy to figure out. It’s not their name, or their first words to you, or even some kind of matching shape. It’s not anything clearly indicative; nothing concrete (at first).

No, all this mark gives you is a clue.”

18. FOR BLUE SKIES

by sunsetozier; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978821

“Just as he’s beginning to shake himself out of his daze, his phone buzzes in his hand, a notification popping up at the top of his screen that makes his entire body freeze, reading and rereading it to make sure his eyes aren’t playing a trick on him. When the words don’t change, his jaw drops, an anxious excitement tingling just beneath his skin.

@trashmouthmusic followed you back!

[In which Richie posts anonymous covers on Twitter and Eddie is instantly infatuated with his voice.]”

19. OUR HOUSE, IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR HOUSE

by orphan_account; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12458046

“Whatever song your soulmate has stuck in their head is resultantly stuck in yours. Eddie, long suffering through mattress commercial jingles and old rock hits, imagines he would kill his soulmate if he had the chance. Or, he would, if he didn't think revenge was a better answer.”

20. MAYBE, MAYBE

by lisscor; Not Rated

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841593

“The light was on again. The one in room 307. Richie wondered, not for the first time, who was up there.

Maybe one day, he would find out.

*

In which two insomniacs who have never met find comfort in the last place they would think to look - each other.”

21. MOST BELOVED

by idaemilia; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160854/chapters/27598224

“‘But he had eyes like rain

and hair like waves

and a soul as vast and deep as the ocean

and I guess I didn't mind drowning in him’

-xvaniex on tumblr

Eddie keeps pining for Richie who is too blind to see it. But maybe he already knows.

*previously named Philtatos*”

22. TO WHAT WE MIGHT DO

by MacksDramaticShenanigans; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709897

“He looks scared. More scared than Eddie’s ever seen him before. He looks nervous, too, and Eddie didn’t think it was even possible for Richie Tozier to get nervous.

But there he is. Looking like he's going to shit his pants or throw up all over himself. Eddie would be more worried about that if he still thought Richie was drunk.”

23. CROOKED HEARTS

by killerqueer; General Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093371

The Monday before Christmas break, Eddie comes to school to find a yellow rose and a letter from a secret admirer taped to his locker. He's convinced it's a prank until the same thing happens the next day and then continues the rest of the week. He's determined to find out who is doing this, even though he's convinced himself that there's no way it could possibly be the one person he really wants it to be.

24. THE THIRD DATE RULE

by tinyarmedtrex; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059960

“Bev drags Eddie along for her tattoo session, telling him that her artist is sex on a stick. She's right, Eddie likes him immediately- if only he wouldn't talk so much.

AU where Richie is a tattoo artist and Eddie pretty much just wants to work in HR and be left alone.”

25. PARENT TEACHER ASSOCIATION (PTA)

by reddiebitch; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773060

“In which Eddie is Richie's kid's first grade teacher.”

26. FAKING IT

by domino1234; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023273

“The obnoxiously pretty boy with the filthy mouth across the hall manages to convince Eddie to spend spring break pretending to be his boyfriend at his family’s lake house. Can Eddie put his unrequited crush aside to play up the charade for a week or will his feelings inevitably get in the way?”

27. Nightmares

by MargotCelvin; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515028

“Richie Tozier is trying to start over in New York. He left California behind and wants to leave his old life there as well. The only thing holding him to his old life are the nightmares that have plagued him for so long. But is there something in New York that can cure him of this disease?”

28. FREAKING OUT THE NEIGHBORHOOD

by bearkwans; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19342543

“Richie thinks that this is what being a father is like. He sure fucking feels like a father, dropping all of his plans to take care of his pet, making very specific google searches and running around his apartment like a madman, grabbing toys and a blanket and a few mice in a tupperware bowl. He knows logistically that everything he’s grabbing is useless and what he really needs is a chill pill and maybe some whiskey to soothe his shaking hands, but Richie can’t help the way his paternal side wakes up and takes control of his mind.

“[or: richie's pet snake is sick and he goes to see vet eddie ;) ;)]”

29. SUGAR, HONEY, HONEY

by thefutureisbright; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17376344

“Eddie works in a bakery. His life was finally simple. He loved his job, he loved his friends, he loved his shitty little apartment with its shitty little balcony. He loved the plants he kept on his balcony. He loved that he could see the New York skyline when it was an especially clear day. He loved that he lived nowhere near his mother. Eddie loved his quiet, simple life.

Until he met Richie fucking Tozier, and his life was never simple again.”

30. THE BLIND BOX

by tinyarmedtrex; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728915

“Eddie works at Gamestop and a dark haired stranger comes in and starts flirting with him. Eddie doesn't think much of it until they keep meeting.

Another College AU! Because why the hell not”

#reddie #fanfiction #reddie fanfiction #fanfic rec #richie tozier #eddie kasbrak #richie and eddie #it #it chapter two #it chapter 1 #it 2017 #it 2019 #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #richie x eddie

106 notes · View notes

jeffhane · 3 years

Text

dynasty live watching: an incoherent post so that i’m not spoiling people on the twitter tl (i doubt any of this will be chronological or coherent enough to actually contain spoilers but better safe than sorry!)

oh my god the “previously on” - i forgot abt fallon and evan....

Theyre at a FUNERAL??? this was actually predicted but oh my god. if its steven i am going to be so mad. what an unfitting end to the- WAIT WHAT SIX MONTHS? what was that font;;;;:; whes sueiwjwk

copper arch🥵🥵🥵

this is cute. this is cute i like faloon pretty women so true

BYE I FORGOT ABT THIS VASE

fallon is genuinely such a bad person this is so bizarre,,,, i think she needs to calm down about oiterally everything ever

“This wedding is our chance to break the cycle of craziness” babe ur literally the one making the cycle of craziness

w. was that an ikmenn of liam getting his head off

JEFF MY BELOVED HE LOOKS STUNNING IN THAT OUTFIT. WHYS ALEXIS HERW “POWER COUPLE” YOU WERID MANIPULATIVE PERSON GET AWAY FROM HIM LOL

alexis is up to no good. bad bad jpeg. why do they write her dialogue like this

adam is acted so well lmao he’s the most unhinged person to ever exist *screams*

ohhh dominique, i don’t remember much abt her 😭😭😭 this woman she’s with is beautiful

ITS LAGGING????? i cannot Believe tjis

~rebrand~ ok girlboss!!!!!!!!! can we ship this businesswoman i dont recall her name with fallon???? id like that i think

too many plotlines have happened in too many minutes, i’m already forgettint things that have happened... isn’t blake supposed to be in prisoj? no? Ok: sure

adam is constantly doing this expression that is like 👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁 HI SAM HI SAM HI SAM BEAUTIFUL MAN I LOVE HIM WHOS THIS MAN

raf is so stunning ughhhh i’m loving the costumes this season, everyone looks great! is this man a sam love interest? nervous? that is kinda cute. i miss stevej though. sadness. so many emotions

UHHHH hi alexis sure ig ur here

~OMENS~ babe that’s a tad dramatic don’t you think?????????? “Ignore the lore at your own peril” alright

WHOS THAT? WHOS THAT? OH HER OK

bye everything is going wrong for this......:..:::... *rubs hands together evilly* that will certainly be entertaining

credit scene!!! such a beautiful cast! where’s anders, oh how i miss him... i miss monica too wasn’t she supposed to be BACK🤔🤔🤔🧐🧐🤨🤨

its a commercial break... havent had to watch the show with these for so long😑😑😑. getting american ads is so funny bc the vast majority of them are Not at all relevant... at all

BACK TO DYNASTY!!!!!! was that a slinky? huh? oh ok that’s why the marriage is happening at the manor. #whenyouonlyhaveoneset oh hi ok monica so shes not going to be here?????😑😔😳

WHY IS SHE GETTING A CAR I FEEL LIKE THATS FORESHAWDOIWIJG FOR UMMMMM.... NOT GOOD THINGS ..... ITS LAGGING AGAIN 🤨

blake having dinner... ok hi cristal,,,,; is the priest subplot back? that was a weird one

adam???? how on earth does adam work his way into everything? NEXT GUEST? HUH? are you cheating on your wife? HI CULHANE! HI!

“straight people are exhausting” i mean yes, objectively, absolutely, but culhane is #notstraight .... idk how i feel about sam and this man. also what? huh? staying here? ok cool ig

OHHHHH he got married i see i see

“Haven’t you milked the carrington cow already” but....... she is literally the person who deserves the stuff..... k......... i don’t like dominique but she was given the short end of the stick also blake stop manipulating people just bc they tell u the truth😶😶😶😶😶😶😶

frustrated that we haven’t seen fallon in any non-wedding related stuff yet i always liked her more ~dramatic~ plots . like she’s a sweetheart but i do want her to evolve beyond thsi. idk if that makes sense. ok bye

“A relative’s happy marriage” uh???? we live in a society😔📈

who is father lynch<3333 oh he is in the hospital that’s not great oh adam upset that’s new /s

y is kirby dressed like an elf. god bless.

ughhhh i just think adam is not good for kirby. he’s not good in general. so true . what is he up to. ads again hhhhhhhhhh💯

omg we are back!!!!! blake wear the suit!! hi liz!!! i’ve seen pictures of this outfit, it looks nice. “I really want things to work out with liam” now that would be great but you’re in a soap opera so the chances of that are .... I DONT EVEN ONOW IF U CAN WEATHER ANYTHING W CRISTAL...)))))!$$ NOT NECESSARILY THE BEET CHOICE????

~technically it wasn’t cancelled~ alright love i feel as though you’re not telling the full truth here. ok his name is ryan . we know that now . cool . this relationship is awkward but it could be sweet

what the Fuck is dominique talking about this is so creepy😭😭😭 please do not market lingerie to ur niece 🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂 why does no one in this show know how to be polite

“You want me to stake my personal assets” i’m sure this would be meaningful if i knew anything about finance????? WAIT WAIT WIAT WAIT WAIT DHE REHEARING THE SAM DONS G THE SONG ALEXIS DONT INTERRUPT HER SINGING THE SONG🧐😔😔😔🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🥰🥰🤬😤😤😤😤😤😤

~duplicitous sham~ that’s quite a juicy phrase ms fallon. alexis i dislike your marriage. and you in fact. yes x . “We were just like any other newlyweds” except the newlywed factor........:

anders. oh my god i adore him so much. he reminds me of my grandfather . YES adam is dangerous. anders i love you so much. be my grandfather figure. top 10 cool old dudes of all time.

liz is so beautiful how am i suppised to “Focus” on the “storyline” kirby just went 🥰🥰 also hi culhane ily babe

“My father’s convinced adam is pure evil” you see, that is......... trueeeee...........:.::: im sorry culhane ily love

this dialogue unfortunately does not flow all that well LOL . people dont think up things like this on the fly “my love is like that boutineer” sir i guarantee that metaphors r not going to save ur relationship... HI sam. so true. hi ily. samhane? culsam? 😳😳

DONT STEAL ANDERS SPOT OH HI JEFF YOU LOOK STUNNING.......... BEAUTIFUL BOY ....... HI!!!! ~you are the only family you’ve ever needed~ shit none of this wouldve happened if the Carringtons werent so greedy ij the first place

~true love has many faces~ how many anti liam omens can they sneak in into the episode 😭😭😭😭 hi laura whats up

the poor waiters at this establishment...... why does laura look like a rlly young version of my grandma........: huh.... wont think abt it /... alexis bad mom.jpeg

“I don’t want to miss my sons special day” ok bye i don’t #care she’s kind of rude

fallon trying to avoid future drama is confusing to me as that used to be her ENTIRE THING? HUH??? everyones talking to their moms today what the heck do that many people talk to their moms???

jeff hiiiii <333 that maroon suit!!!!! love!!!!!

Dont hurt anders you strange little evil man!!!!!!!!!!! (Adam, for reference)

fallon likes to ~e n u n c i a t e~ her dialogue. Drama Teachers Love Her

FIRBY SCENE! WELL THEY R TALKINF! UWU ! UWU ! smiles:) smiiiiiles:) the height difference i cannot do this😑😊😊😊🕯🕯🕯 BYE

BueirHWIIDWJDIWIFJWIFJWJJFWJFJWJDJWJDJWIFJWJFJWJDKWJDJWDJJWHDWHDHWHEHWHDHWJDJWJRJWJEJWJDJQUEUWJEJWJEJW CRIES SOBS SCREAMS THIS OS SO FUCKING FUNNY

Kirby you dumbass😭😭😭😭😭 ALEXIS WUDIWNDJW JEFF CAN YOU NOT HEF FCANKREMTIWN WHY IS THIS DIALOGUE IM SCREAMIGNRJFJD

kirby babe you are the kist imorjri WHQT? HUH? when all the characters have the maturity of a 13 yr old <33333 DID THE SHOW JUST END?????? OK.... DAMN.... they were really 2 minutes away from the end and remembered that things are supposed to happen in tv show episodes.... i cannot tell whether it os over actually?????? huh??? going to keep watching because it would be so embarrassing if i missed a few minutes oh yeah theres more

IM SORRY WHYBARE THESE PEOPLE SO STUPID. every single one of them. ih my god l. ohhhh my god . “I never meant to hurt you” you cheated on him. both of them are bad people. 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 kirby darling what were you thinking . this dress on kirby is STUNNING ugh, she’s so charming . adam Shut the fuck up. He hasn’t said anything but shut the fuck up. OH MY GOD ADAM SHUT THE FUCK UP. OH MY GOD I HATE ADAM SO MUXH. OH MY GOD HOW IS HE THE WORST PERSON TO EVER LIVE 😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶 HES SO EVIL

“I didn’t want to tell you because i didnt want you to think of me as a monster” why did you do that stuff then bro . Kirby you SHOULDNT trust someone after they say that? How naive? Huh ?

omg hello jeffs grandma!!!!! she deserves better than every shitshow in this family... god🤨 dominique being a good person? i like to see that. she seems so genuine. ok this is nice . wait... SAFE? 😳😳😳😳 💴 💵 #money i miss monica

why do they never have sufficient lifhting in WAIT..... HER?????? #dumbofass HI JEFF <33333333 HI you can scam and whatever ur allowed to i support u

ooohhhh GORGEOUS fallon outfit

“Such a fail” IS THIS 2012 . CRINE HEIDJWJFIWNDWJDNWKFJW ENJDJSDJWJNDJWJD they keep saying folklore and im thinking its some sort of reference to the album and i get confused. wheres scheming fallon. need scheming fallon. do a scheme. do it

“We are that lucky couple” press x to doubt .... wait who is this🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔 this seems cincerning im cocnentwd why did it zoom in on this random man

#how many ads are there you ask?#too many #i never watch things live #this is .... a lot #american cell service is so cheap #cruella de vil ad😭#how does the cw app work #more ads ig #i dont have the attention span to remember what happened before the ads

2 notes · View notes

crimeronan · 4 years

Note

ik youre not a therapist and i dont want like therapy or anything but im 17 and ive known i was bipolar for 3 years now and i dont know how im supposed to live the rest of my life like this. im so fucking tired. how do you stay alive

you sent this a couple days ago & i’m posting at a weird time so i’m not sure if you’ll see it but.

i’ve been looking at this message trying to decide how to respond

because i don’t know your situation, your symptoms, how you’re feeling, whether you’ve had positive or negative experiences with medication, psychiatrists, therapists, hospitals, all that related shit

the bipolar life advice i give to people is vastly different depending on the individual. it’s not a one size fits all thing. and there’s never even a guarantee that my advice will be the right choice

so since i don’t know about your situation or experiences or what you want, i’m not gonna tell you what to do. i’m gonna focus on the “how do you stay alive” question and try to pen down some personal feelings. and if they help then great, and if they don’t then... this is the most honest i can be

(you can always ask another question to get a better answer. my inbox is a coin slot and i am a vending machine of varied-degrees-of-helpfulness replies offered at varied-inconvenient-too-long-intervals)

-

how do i stay alive

it’s a 2-parter, actually. i pondered how to condense my thoughts/feelings, and it came down to these two things

1. love 2. spite

-

1. love

the spite is easier to write about than the love. love is hard to reach when i feel like shit.

spite is where i go when i want to die. love is where i go when i want to want to live.

maybe i don’t want to be alive. but maybe i wish i did. spite doesn’t help me much there. spite keeps me afloat, but it doesn’t make the floating pleasurable. there’s more to life than outlasting everything that ever hurt me. i need a reason to continue when there’s no enemy to fight

so. love

i almost wrote about the spite alone because that’s rawer, realer, more visceral. that’s the shit that CONNECTS when everything feels hopeless. but it would be a lie of omission. spite is only one of the major food groups, you’ll waste away from malnutrition if you eat it for every meal. or at least, i will.

“so you’ve got a bunch of people you love,” you say, “and you stick around for them. cry on them. support each other. like each other. fine.” you’ve heard this story before

nah.

i mean - yes. i have people i love. i live with two partners, i’ve got a third girlfriend, i’ve got a long-distance platonic life partner. i have a support net, i have a family i’ve forged, i have confidence that i’m not alone. i have, in a bare-bones checklist sort of way, fulfilled my physiological human need for connection

but i could live without every single one of them. i’m not dependent upon any of them for my survival. i’m not dependent upon them for love, given or received. (this isn’t a callous cruelty, it won’t hurt them if/when they read this. i’ve told them all this, they know. they’re glad of it.)

so. what the fuck does “love” mean, then?

the short explanation is that it’s my love of life, of things in the world. it’s all the little connections i’ve made. every time i love something, a hook tethers to the universe. hook enough tethers, and i no longer feel the need to float away. no dissolution of self today, sir

the rest of this section is some of the things i love. partially it’s to show how i connect to little things and ascribe magic to the mundane. partially it’s because i like thinking about things i love, i like typing them out, and i like that i could keep going for thousands and thousands of words.

i am laying in bed at 7:30 AM with the lights off and the shades drawn. blue light comes through the slats because it’s the better time of year, the one where i finally get vitamin D, the one where the birds chirp at 4AM, the one where the sky isn’t impenetrably black til 10PM.

there’s a weighted blanket tucked around my legs. my partner rafi bought it for us to share because it’s soothing and heavy and comforting and helps with my physical pain. right now it’s soft on my skin and if i get too emotional as i write, i can pull it over me like a cloak until i’m settled.

the apartment’s walls are blank because we’ve spent eight months intending to put art up and keep forgetting. but there’s a newly-unearthed dining area in the kitchen because i finally shifted around the unpacked boxes that were dominating the space. it’s new and it surprises me every time i walk out there. it’s open and inviting and bright and it’s a sign that we’re making this place home.

we’ll put a cheap IKEA table by the window and we’ll probably never eat family dinners there - why would we sit in hard chairs and make stiff conversation when we could all cuddle on the couch - but my partner dev will create a place to do their art and the surface will be constantly littered with drying watercolor experiments.

we’ll hang our art one of these days, too, when our collective adhd offers a miraculous combo of remembering + having time + having motivation + having inspiration. rafi has the most art because they’ve been collecting it for years. i have to start smaller. i’m not used to keeping physical objects. dev has a few pieces thrifted or bought at local artist events or painted themselves

so we’ll put art up in the living room, my single “you are magic” flower print alongside a naked monster lady that dev fell in love with when we browsed art at a yuletide event months ago, alongside rafi’s monster girls and comic characters and book characters and literature art and quotes and abstract pieces and whatever else they have hiding in boxes.

my head protests that naked monster ladies do not belong in the living room, although the picture isn’t overtly sexual. but then i remember that they do, actually, because it’s our space and we can do whatever we want with it as long as the lease isn’t broken. there isn’t anyone in the local social circles who’d be perturbed by the decor, as far as i know. i don’t have to hide anything from my parents because i live 3600 miles from them, and even though i miss my mom, the distance is good for me

there are two exquisite chairs on the porch. they fold and recline from thrones to nearly-horizontal beds. there are pillows and cupholders and trays and specific spaces for both a book and a phone. i can sit there while the morning sun rises and read or play word games or browse tumblr, cup of coffee beside me, trees shielding my eyes from stabby sunbeams

there are remnants of the last tenant’s garden in one corner of the yard. we’ve done fuckall for yardwork but plants struggle through anyway. some seem to have sprouted by accident. mushroom clusters populate the edges of the fence. the apartment squirrel (there are probably several, but i like to think it’s a single energetic creature) runs back and forth along the fence & i always lose my train of thought & then laugh my ASS off at the “SQUIRREL! XD” adhd moment. birds kick up leaf litter and play on the ground looking for insects to eat, they wiggle their tail feathers and flap their wings and sometimes they disappear and then return with friends

a little more than eleven months ago, i packed all of dev’s and my shit into a uhaul and drove and drove and drove to get to this city i’d never been in before to live with a partner i’d never cohabitated with. we were homeless for more than a month, we weathered some financial disasters, we met some great people and some shitty ones

on the drive i fell in love with the sky. i didn’t know how big it can get - actually, that’s a lie. i’d FORGOTTEN how big it can get. i’ve loved the sky thirty miles out to sea, no land in sight in any direction, just blue water and blue space above. i’ve loved the vastness and the yawning beneath me and the knowledge that everything is BIGGER than i can fathom. the depth of the sea doesn’t frighten me, it’s home. i don’t want to die, but if i had to, the ocean makes a soothing grave

in north dakota i discovered that i’ve been partially blind my whole life, which is a different tale that showed me i’ll never stop learning myself. in montana we struggled up thousands of feet of mountains with the car huffing and puffing at the trailer’s weight, and when we finally coasted downward, it felt like sudden freefall. we ended up in the pitch darkness of night on sheer winding interstates with midnight construction projects forcing detours. the mountains felt hungry, they had teeth. mountain cliffs are much scarier to me than the ocean depths

i bought a red bull and poured a little out the driver’s side door as an offering to hermes, because i’m not particularly religious but i’ll take help where i can get it. slammed that back in a few gulps and shook to bright-eyed alertness and ended up behind a slow-driving red pickup truck that guided us over about a hundred miles of mountain terrain

i thought, that’s just some construction worker driving between sites. the roads are empty at this time of night, but it’s an interstate. of course we’d end up behind someone. this isn’t divine intervention. this isn’t the benevolence of a god

i thought, but it can be a little magic. if i want it to be.

and it was. it stays with me.

god help me but i’ve been writing this stream of consciousness for more than 30 minutes and i’ve said nothing. i haven’t talked about the city, the parks, the people, the conversations, the books, the tv shows, the movies, the communities, the library, the animals, writing, reading, singing, acting, swimming, analyzing, creating, supporting, building. and i can keep going. i can come up with hundreds and hundreds of things i love and i can write paragraphs about all of them

so i’ll stop here. you get the picture. love is the life i’ve made for myself, the surroundings i’ve built, the quiet moments i can capture, the inspiration i pin, the magic i commit to memory.

i had to work so damn hard for every single bit of this.

i’ll be fucking damned if i let it go because my brain tried to trick me into thinking death is better.

-

2. spite

there are people who want me to die.

i don’t mean that i have a giant entourage of personalized enemies who curse my name and plan my individual demise. although there have been plenty of people who have not liked me much. probably some of them would enjoy my death. i don’t give a shit about that

there are people who want me dead because i am a dot on a grid they dislike. a faceless anonymous enemy who meets too many bad criteria with numbers and percentages and shrinking majorities and shifting public opinion

because i’m gay. because i’m bipolar. because i’m autistic. because i’m a dropout. because i grew up poor. because my spine curves and my shoulders ache. because i squandered my potential, because i didn’t have enough potential, because i didn’t love god enough, because i love the wrong gods, because i don’t worship, because i worship wrong, because i didn’t seek a husband, because i never wanted one, because i talk too much, because i can’t be controlled, because i chose to leave the fold when i realized it was suffocating me, because i’m ugly, because i’m gorgeous, because my body belongs to me

pick your poison.

this bothered me growing up, a lot. i knew i did not deserve to die. but if enough people tell you that you should, a little part of you will wonder if they’re right. that little part might become bigger the closer they get and the louder they shout and the longer they wear you down

we know the rough shape of this story, i don’t need to tell it. mine was messy and not triumphant and i survived more by chance than premeditation.

i’m older now. by and large i’m still young as shit - i’m 24 - but GOD i am LEAGUES away from 15, 16, 17. i know who i am. i know what i want. i know how to get it. and when i don’t know that, i find out. i tell the truth. i ask for what i want. i use my time how i want. i do what i want.

there are days that i can’t access the “love” side of the equation. no finding poetry in birdsong or sugared coffee for me, thank you, i feel like shit and the world is awful and everything is too big and fast and cruel and everything wants me to die and it wants everything i love to die, too. everyone i love. it’s all garbage. the good doesn’t touch me

trauma is difficult to describe. the difficulty is compounded by the fact that my trauma is influenced by my various neurodivergences, bipolar included. i never know if i’m feeling what other people do. i don’t know if i’m voicing unpalatable feelings others are afraid to express - or if i’m just othering myself, admitting i’m not as human as everyone else.

there is something malevolent and monstrous inside me. i don’t touch it all the time. but i don’t pretend it isn’t there. it sits in my chest and molders or radiates or oozes. it presses at my throat. it curdles in my stomach. it hurts what it touches, whether that’s me or someone i love or someone i hate. it sets things aflame with no regard for the precious or the fragile. it tears down walls and razes shelters and begs for apocalyptic rain.

i can give this thing names, clinical descriptors. i know what it is on a diagnostic chart, in a ponderous article, in an academic debate, in a fiction novel, in a war movie, in a memoir. there are a thousand ways to describe this thing. the descriptors aren’t important. what is important is this - i have learned that most people do not walk side-by-side with a tornado-hurricane-hellfire-weaponized-open-nuclear-reactor. this is not a “normal” expression of human emotion, this is not me trying to ascribe power to “bad bipolar feelings.” this thing lives in me and i know why it’s there and it is not designed to be held/silenced/muzzled/controlled by my body.

it does not help to pretend this thing does not exist. it does not help to try to reason it away or ignore it or tell it to stop. it wants what it wants, it does what it does. possibly if i was better at therapy or stubbornness then i wouldn’t resign myself to that

but it is fucking EXHAUSTING to try to fight something that’s part of me. to try to reshape it, rename it, pare it down, make it consumable for the masses. it’s a war i have never won and it’s a war that i will lose if i keep fighting it. i cannot fight with myself. i cannot beat my monster into submission. if we’re gonna battle like that, head to head, me trying to cut it down, me trying to be the hero, it rearing back like a fire-breathing dragon,

then it’s stronger. it’s always stronger.

so i surrender.

but that’s not where i stop.

can’t fight it. can’t kill it. can’t muzzle it. can’t reshape it, can’t disarm it, can’t contain it.

alright.

so what now.

if the surrender was a full giving-up, this is where i’d passively accept that i’m doomed to hurt and destroy everything precious to me. can’t fix it. will lose everything, will never experience or deserve happiness, will make the world worse simply by existing.

that sure does sound like impending-doom rhetoric. hop skip and a jump from some dire-ass conclusions.

so fuck that, i say.

here’s a better question.

if it has to get out, then what happens if i control where it goes?

here’s the thing.

the monster doesn’t care what it kills or destroys or hurts.

“have a conscience, care about things, remember love, stop yourself, don’t do this don’t do this don’t do this.”

losing battle. lost war.

it’s not the monster’s fault. the monster doesn’t have complex motivations or hates or fears. it exists to protect me through scorched earth. a remnant of a chemical imbalance, maladaptive coping mechanism, bipolar crazy, traumatized injury. it doesn’t know that its job is obsolete.

i can’t change the monster.

but my mind is a separate thing. my mind knows what matters, what my priorities are, what i find precious, what i want to protect. my mind remembers all the things the monster doesn’t.

my mind has learned things the monster can’t.

when i fight it head-on, the malevolence is stronger than me. but as i am, walking with it, sitting in my bed writing this while examining the void and the consciousness, describing it, quantifying it,

that’s when i’m stronger.

and with my mind as the stronger force, i can decide where the monster goes. what it touches. what it destroys. what it burns. where the ashes land.

i do not want to be a destructive person. i want to be someone who builds, repairs, changes. i want to make the world better for kids like me. i want to stop pouring more gasoline onto a fire that’s been burning since long before i was born. i want to believe - i do believe - that positive change is better than negative. i do my best to plant good things and enact that positive change instead of becoming a beacon of wrath.

but there are a lot of kids surrounded by people who want them to die, and not all of them have a protective monster.

so it’s good.

when i’m depressed, my mind loses its battles. my cognizance slips. i forget why i care. i forget what i want. i forget how happiness feels, how to find pleasure in quiet moments.

i don’t get depressed as often as i used to since my meds are adjusted correctly now. but it still happens. it will keep happening for the rest of my life.

my mind weakens and curls up and stops fighting, and the monster is always there.

it’s a very powerful thing when it wants to be.

it wants to survive.

the thing is, it knows there are people that want me/us/whatever dead. it’s been fighting them forever. die like they want? my mind says, sure, what does it matter.

the monster says, nah. our work isn’t done. and fuck them, anyway.

so we get up.

-

so that’s how i stay alive.

i typed this for 90 minutes and after editing i’d spent two hours on this post. i don’t know if anyone will read it all. i don’t know if it’ll mean anything. i don’t know if these thoughts even make sense, much less if i’ve conveyed the feelings i have.

i love being alive. and when i don’t, i love being a monster. it’s good. all of it is good. i’ve reconciled my uglier pieces. it’s not one or the other, love or spite. it’s symbiosis. i need both, i love both.

no guarantees that this is helpful, but based purely on my own life experience, these are my tips for survival:

you’ll have to find your own roots. i can’t give them to you.

but it’s possible to dig them in and spread them far enough that one uprooted peg doesn’t shift your whole equilibrium.

and when you’re tired, rest, and let yourself be tired, and find the reason why you’re staying in the world.

i’m positive there’s at least one.

figure out why you’re losing your battles and then change the game.

if you can’t win one setup, don’t try to beat the system. adjust your strategy.

you’ll be surprised by what you can love when you stop fighting the disparate pieces of you, and instead figure out how to use them.

#i have several other questions to answer in my inbox if you've asked me st over the past few weeks #im not ignoring it im figuring out how to phrase my reply #replies #bipolar blogging #actuallybipolar #my writing #life advice #long post #REALLY long post #it's under a read more but if mobile deletes it i apologize #c ptsd tag #suicide m #ok to reblog #Anonymous

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