#*struggling to word shit*

[will-pilled]

"Being poor is a choice, you can get out of it if you work hard."

I live with 4 people, one of which is a child. I work a full time job. So does another. And the third works two part times.

We have no heating. Our electric keeps getting shut off. We didn't have anything AT ALL to drink for 3 days.

You REALLY fucking think we choose to live like this? You think I want to fucking FREEZE right now as I type? FUCK all the out of touch lucky people saying this shit.

Is it possible to get out of a poor family? Yes. But the majority of the time your area of living is what predicts your wealth.

[chaosgremlim]

I’ll be completely honestly. I will judge you based on how you view Lottie Mathews. If you watch Yellowjackets and go calling her “psycho” “crazy” and judge her abhorent and manipulative for literally just having symptoms of her psychosis while UNMEDICATED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING WILDERNESS, I won’t trust you for shit.

[the-kipsabian]

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

[notedchampagne]

last thought before i sleep i Do fear that reading nothing but fanfiction for 4 years when i was 14-18 severely stunted my brain. this is not to say that fanfiction is bad: theres fanfics that are extremely well written, which are markers of any good authors out there- but since it relies so heavily on building off of a foundation and reforming the same work over and over they tend to follow a certain flow and pattern in plot, the way characters interact, the way dialogue and action intersect, etc etc. ive been trying to read more books now but i still find it easier to read through fanfic because instinctively, i know what to expect going forward because of my existing knowledge of the characters and the fanon. you have to wash out your brain and prepare to engage anew when youre reading a new book, which takes more effort the longer youre away from it. but thats just me and i can write a fucking paper on the ways fic marketing has its own popular checks and standards as well

[colorfulplasma]

me and the rock goblin i pulled up from the cemetery

[dreemurr-skelememer]

anyway, here's all the dreamtale (mostly about dream) tweets for the people who were asking!

[yardsards]

whoever popularized the obsession with "growth mindset" in education owes every disabled kid an apology letter

[kiwinatorwaffles]

hmm. i'm usually not one to post about these topics but i think i've gathered enough thoughts on wilbur's abysmal apology towards shelby to form a cohesive message.

WARNING: the rest of the post will discuss abuse and also a lot of my personal experiences as someone who has hurt other people in the past. obviously not to the extent that wilbur has, but please move on it you don’t want to see it. thank you and stay safe.

being stuck in a hard place, whether it be living conditions, mental conditions, or any other factor, will naturally hurt the person going through those tough times. and hurt people hurt people. but i think there's a pretty Big Fucking Difference between doing bad things in the past and actually owning up to your actions after regretting it VS doing bad things in the past and turning a blind eye against those you've hurt to wallow in your own ego and misery.

i’ve experienced my fair share of abusive friendships, but when i was fifteen, i WAS the toxic friend. (yes, i’m aroace. friendships aren’t the same as a romantic relationship but they can be just as strong. i value my platonic bonds as much as allos value their marriages or date partners.) i was going through a huge depressive episode. it was tough for me, but during that time, i made fun of my friends' interests to their faces because i couldn't personally understand it, and i also vagueposted about the little things they did that ticked me off right where they could see it. it got to the point where they had to make a separate group chat to talk about their interests where i wouldn’t see it. i hurt all of them, and it ended in them confronting me about my actions. they put me in my place and called me out for my horrible attitude.

after seeing my friends' perspectives, i realized just how awful i was to them and sincerely apologized to each of them. i recognized their feelings towards my actions and didn't make excuses. even though i was going through a hard time myself, my abuse towards them was absolutely NOT justified. as i recovered, i made sure not to hurt them any more, and years later, our friendships are still going strong.

my experiences aren't nearly as extreme as what wilbur has done to shelby, but i think it's pretty fucking clear that his apology was flaming dog shit served on a trash dump. like, i was a fifteen year old. he's a Grown Ass Man with a big platform. he dug his own grave by talking about himself first instead of actually addressing his mistreatment of shelby first and foremost. he didn't even MENTION shelby by name. talking about his "strides to betterment" without even directing his apology towards the person he actually hurt is just pathetic. that whole spiel about how he "thought" the whole exchange was consensual is fucking wild. he didn't even apologize for that; he moved on right afterwards.

we can infer that wilbur has been struggling with being a person who has done bad things through his songs and lovejoy's music. he might have been going through a hard time and maybe even regretted it (though his apology really makes it seem like he's just doing it for damage control), that STILL doesn't validate any hurt he might have caused. the least he could’ve done is to sincerely apologize to shelby, even if she didn’t accept it. but he couldn’t even do that.

it's just disappointing that, as someone who has a platform of millions of followers, he displayed an act of shallowness. in the end, his attempt at sincerity fell flat and benefited no one, especially not the people he abused. if he had properly apologized, even if his apology wasn't accepted, it would've shown people in a similar situation how to apologize to the people they hurt in the past in a mature and sincere way.

so, yeah. FUCK wilbur soot. focus not on the fact that he has done bad, but that the one he abused didn’t get a proper apology. support shelby and other victims of abuse. listen to their experiences and spread awareness of these cautions. uplift their voices, not his.

for those who have connected to his and lovejoy's music that have gone through a similar dark time in their lives, i also extend my heart out to you. it must also be hard to see someone who reflected your struggles of betterment reveal himself to be someone who really hasn't gotten better at all.

but you don’t have to be like him. you don’t need to follow in his steps as long as you own up to your mistakes, even if you can’t talk to those you hurt anymore. in the end, what matters most is that you apologize in a sincere way and make sure you don’t repeat those mistakes going forward.

you CAN get better. if anything just so spite that british boy’s ass

thank you. kiwi out ✌️

[crescentfool]

does anyone else want to stick these two in the same room together or is that just me... i simply think they are adjacent in vibes... (+a bonus thing???)

get u a fictional guy that makes you feel like this... seeing these guys just evoke a Similar Kind of Brain Chemical and Response. Help Me.

also have bonus yosuke doodle featuring the same brushes used here...! from january 23rd, lol.

[mokeonn]

Before I go to sleep I leave you all with this piece of advice: sometimes you don't actually have to answer big political questions, sometimes you can just say "I am not smart enough to know that, I just know the small things I do to help." Like you can often times completely avoid making a fool of yourself if you just say you don't know.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

some days the "fire off missiles because you hate yourself but do you know you're demolishing me" and "let all your damage damage me" and "I gave you all my best mes, my endless empathy" and "in the shade of how he was living" and "how much sad did you think I had in me?" just really fucking hit 😵‍💫🥴

[skunkes]

might sound weird to say as a person with a couple ocs who have Big Horrible Event(s) in their backstories or as a person who has like 3 ocs total bc he sucks at writing and as a person who hopes their ocs arent too Boring with [the thing im about to mention] but the thing about writing [characters] and [people] is that like.

any little thing a person experiences can take up their whole existence... its actually something "fun" to experience as i meet new ppl and do more things. My friend had something happen that she'll be talking about forever. I had several things happen last year that ill never stop talking about, some of which other ppl think werent that bad actually. In the same way I'll forever remember about the way my sister accidentally insulted me almost 10 years ago, it's really interesting and Fun to find and assign smaller things like that to characters...its really Real. some people's dealbreakers are other people's solvable problems etc etc

[pastafossa]

There'll likely be a chapter tomorrow and you have @wonderlandmind4 to thank for that, both for beta-ing for me and for smacking my really really bad imposter syndrome voice over the head with a rolled-up newspaper until it was not so loud, because damn, have I been deep in it and worried about finally posting again.

[craqueluring]

Hannibal, Potage, 1x03 // Hannibal, Antipasto, 3x01

"Hannibal's friendship is blackmail elevated to the level of love"

[quirkle2]

who wants zombie au writing. don't answer that ur getting it anyway (1.6k words)

His shoes knock against the old flooring of the house, wood creaking under rubber soles that slide over the woodgrain. He drags them a bit, lifts his limbs up no more than he strictly has to, and they lead him to the nearest sittable surface.

The couch is old and dusty and has likely gone untouched for months, much like everything else nowadays, so he watches the thin cloud of dust billow off the cushions largely with disinterest. He collapses into the fabric heavily, feels the whole thing scoot back an inch and hit the wall behind him. The sound echoes, carried by lifeless rooms, while he unceremoniously drops his backpack to the floor by his feet.

The breath he lets out is slow and methodical and born of pent up muscles, aimed at the ceiling where he rests his neck against the back of the couch and relaxes every limb one by one. It’s a process he forces himself through, if only to rid the constant ache beneath his skin.

Slow, sweeping footsteps meander around the room in front of him, and Ritsu angles his gaze down from his craned back position to look at his brother. He wanders, like he so often does—seemingly aimless, but there’s something procedural about it that he’s convinced he just hasn’t figured out yet.

Shigeo’s empty eyes crawl along the hearth of the fireplace, explosions of ash sprayed out across the red brick. His head tilts up to trace his attention around the angular lines of the television, hung on the wall and screen grey with dust. He flits back and forth between the roundness of the bricked mantle and the sharp edges of the screen, like he’s taking notes.

Shigeo paws the television. Four lines of muck are cleared. The zombie blinks, paws at it again with dusty, curious fingers. Ritsu watches him make a mess of the television screen in silence, blinking tiredly.

He almost closes his eyes, but he fights against the urge and moves his fingers down his lap to reach for his bag. His middle hooks around the loop at the top and he lugs it up and into his lap, where he unzips it and peers into the shadowy contents.

Ritsu fishes out the water bottles. He finds the one with the messy R scribbled along the cap in sharpie and takes a big swig of it. It’s warm going down, constantly insulated in a bag of old, sweaty clothes. He feels like he can taste the odor in it, but it clears the grain in his throat from stomping all over dirt roads today, so he’s still grateful.

He holds out the one labeled S to Shigeo. “Thirsty?”

Shigeo looks at him from where he’s crouched down to the floor now, inspecting the soot along the hearth. Unfortunately, he sees handprints in the black already, and when his brother reaches a hand out to take it, his palm is covered in soot.

He lets him have his fun and settles his own bottle back in the mess of tangled clothes and rolls of bandages. Ritsu rakes his fingers through their stock with no real purpose—he knows exactly what’s in here, and none of it is useful.

They’d been searching all day; Ritsu doesn’t really know how far they’d walked, but it had to be a lot of miles. In and out of stores, up and down empty houses, weaving between warehouses—they didn’t really stop for a break. Not when Ritsu can hear Shigeo’s stomach from here and he himself has shaking hands. They can’t afford a break.

Nothing, though. Not a single goddamn thing worth taking. A settlement must have come through here long ago and swept the highway. They’re in the countryside, where houses are spaced out acres from each other and there’s entire cow pastures between properties. And yet every house they’d seen and entered provided nothing.

Ritsu stares into the negative space in his bag where there should be supplies. His stomach cramps and if he smells another whiff of that godawful sweaty, bloody sweatshirt he still carries, he’s going to throw up bile.

He leans away from the open pouch, eyes wandering to his brother who draws… something into the soot of the hearth. His water bottle sits on the floor, abandoned and still unscrewed. Ritsu leans forward with great effort and a grunt, leaning over his bag to grab at the top of it.

It takes him two tries to get Shigeo’s attention, and one more for an answer on where the cap is. It’s then placed in his palm, covered in soot and also saliva. Ritsu swallows down the nausea that rolls up his throat and wipes it off with his frankly already disgusting sleeve, and screws it back on.

He leans back again, succumbing to the urge to let his eyes rest, and he listens to the very subtle swipe of his brother’s hands across brick. There’s birds outside, chirping, and even though it’s still very much a common occurrence, Ritsu cannot help but feel nostalgic about it.

If he ignores the awful hum of silence, and the distinct lack of an electric thrum throughout the walls, and the fact that this is a stranger’s couch and not his, he can almost imagine normalcy. He can almost say this feels like those quiet moments after school, when he settles on the couch and scrolls through his phone in a house that only holds him and his brother because their parents simply aren’t home yet.

He can almost hear the creak of wood from Shigeo walking around his room upstairs. He can almost tap his fingers on the couch cushions to the pattern of his brother making his way down the steps. He can almost hear the fridge opening, and the sound of milk being poured into glass.

Almost. But Ritsu listens to sharp silence instead, and he tries not to think too hard.

He drifts for a while, feels himself truly sink into the couch and let the cushions claim him, and he thinks about nothings because if he doesn’t, then he’ll lose it. He carefully sifts through the nothingness of his mind, through the passing thoughts that have no bearing, and he focuses on that, on the lack of substance. His head is too full of things that have too much substance.

He misses boredom. He tells himself he misses boredom—the complete insubstantiality of it—because if he lets himself think of what he really misses, it’ll drive him insane.

The cushions move, and Ritsu peels his eyes open and lets himself get pulled from liminal mindspace. The cotton in his head recedes, and he blinks, and then he’s swiveling his head to look at his brother who sits in the cushion right next to him.

His hands and the cuffs of his hoodie are smothered in black. Shigeo sits hunched, gaze still wandering even when there’s not much decoration in this house to look at. He studies the off-white walls, the chips in the paint, the holes drilled in where there maybe used to be photos hung.

Ritsu gazes at him quietly, chest instinctively rising and falling to match his brother’s rhythm. He watches the expansion there, under his hoodie, in the subtlety of the folds and the way they warp over the movement. It’s slightly quicker than what he’s used to, but Ritsu knows his brother’s heart rate is much slower. He’s felt it before. He’s listened to it before, with his ear against a chest.

Ritsu’s attention moves to his eyes, and the heavy bags underneath them, and the paleness of his pupils and the ghostlight of him underneath that. He stares into them, looks for stray, familiar thoughts that might enter his head. Looks for old memories that might shine through in the form of recognition when he sees furniture layouts, and candy wrappers, and ads for soda.

Ritsu looks for it all the time, that glint of familiarity. And he finds it, sometimes. And really, he thinks that’s keeping him going more than food ever will.

Shigeo turns his head, and looks at him. Sometimes, when his brother looks at him, there’s not much there. No substance, no anything. And Ritsu finds it a bit evil that he craves silence in his own head, and yet noise in Shigeo’s, and often times it is the other way around.

His brother looks at him now, though, with that comforting recognition. That growth of the pupils, that softening of the hard edges of his face where unknown stressors have gotten to him. Ritsu wonders what zombies get stressed out. He figures it’s the same deal with humans, considering they’re largely alike.

Ritsu wonders if Shigeo knows he’s sick. He wishes he could ask him. He wishes for a lot of things. Silence in his own head is one of them.

Ritsu swivels his head away and stares at the ceiling, if only to force the thoughts to pause. He studies the popcorn ridges above them, traces the peaks with his gaze. It calms him, gives him something to focus on. He looks for patterns in the shadows they make.

Shigeo shifts next to him. And then he shimmies down, settles into the cushions, and plops his head right down on Ritsu’s shoulder.

Static roars in his mind and his heart stammers. Ritsu swallows the lump in his throat but that just makes it bigger, so he clamps his mouth shut and breathes carefully through his nose.

The tears cut through the grime on his face. He plops his own head down against his brother’s, and lives in the noise.

[olliesneweyes]

okay so this MAY be where the "aggressive tendencies" came from but i think that. this is not a valid reason to say he has aggressive tendencies especially w all the neglect and shit??? like ok yeah the guard was bleeding or whatever but. this was probably the first thing he's had in days (upon rereading he attacked the guard for a single piece of bread which is probably the first thing he had the chance to eat that wasnt literal dog food since he got locked in the kennel) and he's being treated like a dog. he's gonna be on edge what are you expecting?? (also the fact the staff only know his name because HE HAD A COLLAR AROUND HIS NECK???)

also it actually is canon that his education was super extremely limited and his vocabulary was expanded by talking to the kids from a village around the place he escaped to

also the way he's constantly referred to as ada's "accessory" in canon makes me SO ill (/neg) like

YEAH...........