homeexteriorrenovation

[gxos]

i honestly forgot nk jemisin existed and now i have to remember her writing exists which is also bad

[whatwooshkai]

Gimme a number 5! :D

Chase's face is contorted in badly disguised panic as he stands there, finials practically brushing the lights on his back, waiting for instruction.

Charlie tries desperately not to laugh, coughing into his fist. "I am so sorry," he says, voice strained, as Mayor Luskey forces his way out of the car, fuming.

"BURNS!" he snarls, his toupee slightly askew, and he nearly trips over the grappler as he storms up to him. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!"

"So sorry," Charlie repeats, noticing that Chase has started nervously wringing his hands. "The police bot noticed your car was going above the speed limit and wasn't responding to the flashing lights, so he- uh, the AI, I mean- took the next logical step." He gestures at the scene. "Hence the grappler."

Chase had deployed it without asking, and Charlie hadn't even known what happened until the mayor's car had suddenly stopped and started swerving in front of them, caught in a trap of yellow nylon webbing.

"Well- well- fix it!" Mayor Luskey turns on his poor chauffeur and starts shouting again, and Charlie notices the slight sigh of relief from Chase as the attention is taken off them.

"Police bot," Charlie orders, biting back his smile, "fix this please."

"Yes sir," Chase says, sounding much less confident than usual.

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

"I didn't even know you had a grappler," Charlie pipes up as they roll into the firehouse's driveway. "My last patrol car sure didn't."

"It was equipment I had back on Cybertron," Chase explains as the garage door closes behind them, then transforms when Charlie steps out. "I just haven't had a reason to use it until now."

"Well, uh, good to know," Charlie says, patting his hands on his hips. "Just maybe ask first next time?"

"Of course," Chase hums, and his finials flatten against his helm.

"So, do you have any other equipment you're holding out on me?" Charlie continues teasingly, and Chase's finials cant back.

"No," he answers, sounding almost disappointed. "A question better suited for Heatwave. I have not seen him use any of his arsenal."

"Really?" They step on the lift together. Normally Charlie would go back upstairs, but now he's curious. "What kinds of equipment?"

"I'd imagine it's similar." Chase taps his foot against the ground as the lift starts down. "He's got a kit hand."

"What's that?"

"Heatwave!" Chase addresses the fire bot instead, who's up on one of the pillars with the training dummy.

"What?" he calls back, leaning against it.

Chase gestures to Charlie. "He's curious about your equipment."

Heatwave frowns. "...What equipment?"

"Your firefighting equipment. You hand." Chase gestures abstractly.

"Oh." Heatwave jumps down and Chase offers his hand to Charlie, who climbs into it, and he's deposited onto Chase's shoulder for a better view. "Most of it's only accessible in my alt mode, but I got a few things."

He sticks his forearm out and a panel retracts. "Winch," he says, gesturing at it. "Got them on both sides. And my hand's kit." His left hand retracts back into his forearm, and he transforms tools out in rapid succession, including but not limited to a sledgehammer, an axe, a halligan, and a chainsaw. His hand's back in a few moments, and he offers Charlie a shrug. "I don't really have a need for them. I can usually brute force my way through any of the emergencies you guys have."

"True," Charlie hums, "but it's good to know. Thank you."

Heatwave blinks, then nods, turning away and going back to his dummy. Charlie looks to Chase. "Do the others have equipment like that, or, uh, 'kit' hands?"

Chase's finial flicks. "Why don't we go ask?" he says, voice colored with an excited lilt.

Charlie gets the distinct impression he's being included on something important, but he can't even begin to be sure of what. So he just smiles, pats Chase on the cheek, and lets him take him to the others.

[hyperlexichypatia]

ok this has always been a question in the back of my mind regarding autonomy - "what if someone needs help and wants it, but for any reason, never explicitally communicates they want it?" or "what if someone is in a mindset where they dont want help, but after/before they always want help/wish someone would help?"

because ive seen posts like "even if someone is in critical state, unless they explicitly state they want help, then you shouldnt interfere", something along the lines of that.

its affecting how i approach others, especially those who arent doing well mentally (and even myself)... because sometimes, we DONT know what we want, or whats best for ourselves. I can attest to that. I dont know what i need or what i want a lot until i gravely mess up or i miss out etc. Sometimes I say yes when i mean no, and no when i mean yes. Sometimes i reject help both when i actually want it, and when i feel as if i dont need it if I'm not well (psychosis, ocd etc...)

The thing everyone says about "you know yourself best always" and "never intervene on others actions even if theyre not okay if they reject outside help." it... assumes everyone is in a state to know themselves well. amnesia comes to mind, or any cognitive condition where someone will struggle to know what they want/need, or how they feel, and how to communicate such.

Maybe im overthinking and nobody has ever said ppl cant intervene in special cases.. but ive never seen anyone explicitly say they can, either.. so idk what people think about it.

We're all here to overthink, so that's a good thing. I think there are a few issues to overthink here. First of all, what is "help"? I mean this in both a specific and an abstract way. Specifically, what are you considering doing for someone that they haven't asked for and you think they need? Is it something where if you're wrong and they really don't want it, it's no big deal (like giving someone a coffeepot they have no real use for but accept to be polite), or is it something where if you're wrong and they really don't want it, you're severely harming them by imposing something on them against their will (like forced drugging, which is what most policy advocates mean by "getting someone help")? And more abstractly, how can you be sure that what you want to do for someone is actually helpful? The premise of "You know yourself best always" doesn't mean "You know yourself perfectly always." No one has complete self-knowledge. It is absolutely possible for you to be wrong about what's best for you. It's absolutely possible for you to make a decision and regret it -- maybe immediately, maybe years later. And to think "Why did I make such a bad decision? What was I thinking? Why didn't someone stop me?" But you still know yourself best always, not because you know what's best always or never make bad decisions (that's not true of anyone, and is an unreasonable standard!) but because you know yourself better than anyone else can, because no one else can have the lived experience of being you and knowing how you feel and what you need. Or put another way: However bad, unwise, or regrettable your decisions about your own body/mind/life are, anyone else's would inherently be worse. So moving on to the specific: What if someone needs help in a way that they can't communicate due to awareness/communication related disabilities? This definitely happens to me! For example, I have a real problem remembering to eat and remembering that I'm hungry. It's helpful for me when someone reminds me that I haven't had lunch yet, and that's probably why I'm spacy. For yourself, if you know you're prone to bouts of poor bodily awareness, try to ask for help in advance. If you have a willing friend or partner, you can ask them in advance "If I get spaced out, please remind me to eat/ drink/ take medicine/ go outside." For more complicated things, you can look into some of the advance plans and templates suggested by the Fireweed Collective: https://fireweedcollective.org/crisis-toolkit For trying to help other people who haven't asked for it -- or rather, trying to intervene in a way that you think is helpful even though they haven't asked for it -- I would recommend some broad guidelines.

Ask first, and be willing to take "no" for an answer. If someone says no, but seems really disoriented, you might try asking again later, but still be willing to accept a no.

Offer basic things: Food, water, and the opportunity to leave the environment. If the person only eats certain foods, bring them that food. You may need to physically bring it to them if they are too disoriented to get it themselves or even answer whether they want it.

IF you know that they take a medication regularly, and you think it's possible that their disorientation could be caused by a missed dose, offer to bring them their medicine. Do NOT try to get them to start a medical regimen if they're not already on them. DO NOT encourage them to take medication if you know, or have reason to believe, that they're foregoing medication as an intentional choice rather than simply forgetting a dose.

If possible, try to reduce environmental stressors like noise. Turn down music, fans, flashing lights.

If the person is communicating in a way you don't understand, listen respectfully. Don't bombard them with questions. If you don't understand, say so. You can always come back to the topic later.

Offer alternate ways to communicate. If someone isn't speaking well, try typing or another form of AAC.

Be humble. They may not appreciate your offers, nor do they have any obligation to. They might be annoyed or angry by your offers (especially if they've already said "no"), and they have every right to be. Accept this fact going in.

These are some general suggestions for trying to help someone who has not specifically requested your help, but you have reason to believe may be disoriented or otherwise unable to communicate their wants/needs, while still respecting their bodily autonomy. It's not foolproof, but it might be a start.

[nonbinarygamzee]

hi im covered in mandarin juice in my very messy room accidentally unfollowed you freaked out followed you again and this is all to say nepeta and gamzee's dynamic what do you think abt it

HI CLEM sorry for the slow response i am so eepy

anyways i really like the potential of a nepeta gamzee friendship i think they both are so absolutely uninterested in conforming to the idea of what makes a respectable troll that, given the room to grow, they couldve been a powerhouse of transgressive belief for the people in their lives. ive said this all before but for gamzee, her entire personhood is a refusal to step up to this expectation of what makes a respectable troll, especially of her caste. she isnt interested in exerting power or fear until the world cracks open and shows itself for the terrible game/prison that it is. similarly i always got the idea that nepeta, while highly competent in her own right, didnt really give a shit about whether or not she was fitting into a mold imposed upon her, in fact any time equius tried to do so she actively fought against that and usually with glee.

ultimately imo nepetas downfall lied in her inability to let go of the bootlicker man in her life and, a little more abstractly, the systems in place that had lead her to the idea that he was her responsibility at all or that she had any obligation to look past his obsessions with power and control. like not that its her fault, she was a child, but she didnt really particularly have to be the one next on the chopping block except for the fact that she had bought in to the idea imposed upon her that a moirallegiance is meant to be for the sake of keeping another troll in check, loved him despite his constant refusal to see her beyond what he could mold her (and her friends) into, and tried to defend that because she had grown up in a world that told her this was not only acceptable but even a Good Thing. in a lot of ways she and gamzee have that in common, because imo a Lot of gamzees self-destruction lied in the fact she loved a boy who was too caught up in social order to humanize her too. over and over gamzee has to learn that, for one reason or another, the people she wants to find solace in are not available. theyre both forced to learn the same lesson, only gamzee gets the other end of it in terms of mortality. i say it all the time that equius' death was an act of revenge even beyond being self defense and the culmination of being manipulated. conversely i think nepeta is probably the only one gamzee feels real genuine guilt over! it was beyond their control, needed to happen/was already going to happen/blah blah blah. but still a sad reality and one that cant just be divorced from the kinds of feelings itd conjure :o(

[kaengeru]

after the storm

Though the proverbial dust settled shortly after Sarah made his point - additionally so after he left the room with Noah - it was another hour before Enya followed suit. She told herself it was because she wanted to finish her food after being so rudely interrupted. However, the tension from earlier still hung heavy in the air. Nothing physical, of course, she was better than that. But there was an edge of paranoia hovering in the back of her mind that was very new to the space she sat in. Not unsafe, but... potential.

It made for slow eating and with feet very firmly planted on stone; the latter offering enough comfort for her to appear quite casual, despite her furtive glances to the hallway behind her.

Eventually, stomach filled and bowl emptied, Enya pulled herself away to find wherever Sarah had gone (out front, now, after a number of trips throughout much of the house).

And there he had been for the past three-quarters of the hour. With fresh clothes, he sat on the low edge of the porch with chin in palm, watching Noah play around the lone tree that sat out front. His mind, though, was elsewhere. The constant circle of perhaps his reaction was excessive countered with plenty of reasons why that was misplaced played in his mind. Ridiculous, sure... but he kept coming back to it. Though in thinking about it abstractly, the argument had a tinge of Enya's voice to it. He huffed out a soft laugh, though he didn't find it very funny, actually. An undesired side-effect to their cohabitation.

Behind him came the familiar uneven gait before the creak of the door opening, Sarah was brought abruptly back to the present. Sharply aware of her proximity to Noah - which wasn't new, only much fresher, but the distinct animal impulse to chase her off certainly was.

She kept by the door in a vague hope he would get up first. He didn't always, but more often than not. A nebulous dominance game that she really shouldn't of paid any mind, even on better days. Now, though, it felt necessary. That, and the porch being wood planks rather than stone made her skin prickle with nerves, made for a very clear power disadvantage (to a point). Her staying ease of the door made that obvious to anyone who knew her well enough. Sarah came to that realization after only a moment of inactivity behind him. He gave a exasperated sigh and quiet groan as he brought himself to his feet. It was enough to spurn Enya to move forward - which was a poor decision on her part, as Sarah abruptly snapped around to face her, blocking much of the view.

Enya kept herself from stumbling back in response - a lot of work just to stop from stepping away in any sense can't give ground - but it stopped her nonetheless. A few uneasy seconds passed before they both relaxed, somewhat. Sarah released a sigh as Enya straightened up. The silence between them stretched on and it became very clear Sarah wasn't going to be breaking it this time. Annoying. She softly huffed out a breath through her nose, head tilting marginally to the side as she spoke. "... Wha was tha about then, eh?"

He simply stared at her. "What, do you mean."

Her previous and more placid expression shifted as she grew frustrated. Like a sunrise from a quiet dewy morning into blazing heat, it crept up incrementally. She scowled, crossing her arms against her chest. "Back there? Don't y'think y'acted kindf, a lot?"

In Sarah watching her obvious growing agitation carefully, it kept him from maintaining his own calm. His jaw tightened at her assertion, and only in part to his own mounting ire. That little argumentative voice clearly had had a touch of that Enya voice, that much was clear. And, though it was most certainly the wrong direction to go, he, too, canted his head to the side in a mirror of her previous gesture.

"How so?"

That was enough. Broken teeth flashed as Enya's wrath fully flared, stepping forward with a heavy thunk and an angry hiss, her glare sharp.

"Fuck off! Stupid cunt jus, fuckin, wha, stormin in, takin, kickin and wha'ever th'fuck th'little bastard wants?! Fuck off!"

Crossing his arms against his chest, Sarah showed a brief flicker of his own teeth, returning her glare with equal ferocity. "That makes it okay to hurt him?"

"I barely touched th'lil shit."

"Enya, you broke his nose."

"So?"

Her response, however completely expected it was, still caused Sarah to pause. It took him a moment of verbal stumbling before he could manage a solid reply. "So, you, hurt him."

"Christ, he's fine, it's not like I killed th'bastard, m'not fuckin stupid."

"Well, that's news to me."

She snort in anger, "Oh fuck you, morally righteous cunt."

"Mor - Enya, he is a child!"

"Oh, sure! Fuckin, an wha, jus gets t'fuckin bite me er somethin fer nothin?!"

Visible muscles tense in Sarah's arms as he leans toward her, his stare hard. "Are you telling me you," the word is spoken with a heavy intonation of veneration. "Can't handle a child?"

The implication is clear; if Enya was so strong and powerful, how could she not deal with something so simple. Unfortunately, it has the opposite effect. Which, to be fair, had a 50/50 split to begin with. Rather, it ignites her, as she closes the gap between them and echoes her previous argument into much louder shouting, to prove her point that much more certainly. Chest puffing up and teeth now on full display, Sarah kept his ground, and though his argument had far less volume, his words held equal venom.

"Fuckin bastard-!"

"-absolutely senseless-"

"-stupid cunt-!"

"Utterly barbaric-"

This script of arguing continued for a few solid minutes as they both seemed to find numerous new ways of saying how wrong the other was. Up until Enya, frustrated with the wall Sarah had become and her own struggle to keeping herself from just hitting him, finally gave up on words altogether. Mid-sentence she screamed at him, trailing into a bellow as a ripple of fur passed through her, before she turned and kicked the door. It didn't fly open (despite how much more satisfying that would of been) but the frame and and latch splintered magnificently.

The brief allowance of a break, which Sarah took by leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose with equally tightly shut eyes, brought him one realization. They were arguing in circles and, likely, could be at this endlessly - seeing how he was right and she was stubborn made for a poor debate. Additionally, he was highly emotionally charged, however well-deserved it was, but it kept him from being the usual bigger person he was so good at. Even knowing that, having a moment out of the fight, he couldn't come up with another retort besides a different way to say you're wrong. Only that it was incredibly unproductive.

Sarah's decision, though, was made for him at the soft sound of a small figure approaching behind him. He and Enya both turned to look to see the surprising sight of Noah, drawn closer now that things had quieted down - spurning them into contrasting actions.

Enya, at the sight of said little bastard who really was the cause of all of this, snarled. Sarah, with corresponding intensity, turned toward her and coughed out a bark of a Day No. But, as she took a step closer, the scene from earlier repeated itself. As Enya, despite the very clear warning, moved in, Sarah closed the gap, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her against the already battered door. He released her as soon as she made contact, turning back to Noah and gathering him up in his arms.

The door, with Sarah's heavy handed approach, finally fell open, and Enya with it. The hit knocked the breath heavily out of her lungs, leaving her coughing and groaning on the floor. After a few moments, she sat up, seeing the form of Sarah off the porch and a few steps away. He didn't move as she watched him, other than cradling Noah against him. He sighed.

"I can't, stay here. He can't stay here, therefore, I, can't." His voice was even, which surprised him. Though, as he brushed back Noah's hair, it wasn't much comfort. "I love you, I do, but this, can't work. Won't, clearly. But when - or if - you've, found some sense to apologize, to him, I can make an exception, but. Until then, I'll, see at work, I suppose."

And, with Enya still on the floor, panting as she squinted in lengthening light of midday, he vanished.

[cairocuestaff]

i dont know how much longer i can keep going like this. i cant talk about how hard it is to talk to her because that triggers her bpd, but she doesnt seem to understand at all that trying to talk to her if im even a little bit dysregulated (using our current methods of communication) is painful and difficult for a hundred different little reasons. she keeps telling me "i need to know where you are", but she doesnt realize that im *constantly* trying to tell her where i am-- thats all that "extra information" that "she doesnt know what to do with" and every time i try to give it it makes things worse because she cant process it and it makes me feel overlooked/ignored.

how can i make myself feel good about talking openly and vulnerably with someone who makes me feel like the things i say dont matter and like my efforts to do what is being asked of me are meaningless? its like as we both become more dysregulated, she needs more literal responses with less nuance and less details-- while i simultaneously need to be understood in more nebulous, abstractly-connected ways, give more nuance, and have more details about where i am seen and heard and absorbed. i cant say yes or no to her simple yes or no question because my brain sees a hundred little implications hidden in the phrasing she uses that it cannot accept without comment; being *forced* to answer with only a yes or a no feels like a slap in the face, a loud and aggressive rejection of everything i am, a complete dismissal of my efforts to communicate and be connected with through understanding whats going on inside of me, and a total lack of care for how things look and feel inside my reality.

our methods of communication are not only opposite from each other but actively harmful to the other. yet every time i point out that we are just too *different* from one another, with needs that are *at odds* with one another, she responds as if im just not seeing some deeper truth that she has access to. like all i need to do is xyz and all of the problems will go away. well, i see the problems as fundamental, baked into who we are as people and how our brains are wired to process information. thats part of my reality at this point. another painful part that she rejects and overwrites whenever i try to bring it up.

its like she wants me to say that we are more similar than we are different, wants me to say that we are "the same", but doesnt want to acknowledge that that runs extremely contrary to every experience ive ever had with trying to communicate with her during times of distress. am i supposed to erase all of the pain and difficulty i struggle through when we collide in the name of some false feel-good idea of unity and sameness? that makes me feel erased, forcibly reconfigured and overwritten from the outside-- the exact opposite of seen and understood and accepted as i am.

is there any way for any of this to ever get better at this point? how can we fix problems one half of us doesnt even seem to see, acknowledge, or be interested in hearing about?

[sameteeth]

like idk maybe montaigne IS right and thinking you know something just means you dont even know what knowledge IS. defining knowledge is so nebulous and everything you can define as knowledge isnt something you can genuinely confirm (no justification for inductive reasoning about the future, sense perception can be fooled, butterfly dreaming of a man, etc). at most you can reason abstractly and define things and play w them that way making mathematics the only true/pure or validated field of science. so really all we CAN say abt knowledge would be in erdős's The Book. and everything else is in this strange grey area of not-quite-Fact-or-Truth with an infinite sample size of every observation but unable to be truly Known.

i suppose then you can grade things on degrees of confidence - something observed once vs many times - but you still cant say something is KNOWN. and even then individual degrees of confidence can vary sooo much based on a person's feelings towards the source of the observation/reasoning. accounting for every instance/opinion gets us nowhere, but generalizing loses the nuance needed to really dig into the meat of something

[afreakingdork]

I got so excited when I saw you updated Weak Spot that I actually almost puked while in the middle of reading 👍👍. Sorry I cant express how much I adore your work but you make really really really good stuff. Thats 3 reallys cuz I mean it a lot. Legitimately life changing I think I might even use the reader character and donnie as a reference point on how to approach communication better in the future, like, in general, not just in romantic relationships.

I think you're one of the very few long fic writers who my frustratingly impatient and short-attentioned brain was actually willing go wait for on every chapter, I've never read a fic that gripped me by the neck this strongly since I've left the Undertale fandom. Weak spot is just that good and I think I'll crave everything you have to provide as long as you're willing to share them with us readers.

Oh yeah and also as young adult I really look up to you btw, in general because I like the bright yet tempered energy you show through your posts and also I think your work ethic is admirable and the fact that you're very literate in the way you respond to ask as well (kind of expected since you're a seasoned writer after all, of course youre very literate), and also, as someone who's attempting to actually down my fic ideas and day dreams, I've recently been trying to look just a bit closer on your work and how you approach descriptions and dialogue and learn better that way, kind of like how artists do master studies and observe and attempt to replicate experienced artist's techniques, quirks and art style to apply to their own work as well. Currently I'm trying to figure out how to incorporate that use of metaphors you do often to sort of indirectly and almost abstractly describe what someone is going through, like in this week's chapter 56 where Donnie's self exploration is described as a journey with Reader simply accompanying them to a certain point. This is my favorite part in each chapters you write and I know there's a term for this technique but that might distract me from my train of thought so uhm. Make of that as you will I suppose.

I especially love how maturity really shines through your work and I love how slow and almost inconsequential/very normal (yet tremendously intimate) their daily life as a couple and honestly, in a lot of romance books I see I dont think they highlight that part enough and I'm so glad you let the readers breathe between chapters while still being able to build up tension when something bigs about to happen. I'm assuming (though I am pretty sure) that this is probably born from years and years of writing considering this is a type of writing paired with that mature energy I was picking up is something I could rarely find in the fics (or books in general) made by teens and people my age, and thats pretty incredible. I've never seen characters treated so very clearly lovingly before and whenever I compare my current work as of now it feels like playing in a kiddie pool then being met with the experience of looking on into the deep blue waters from the white beach then deciding to run to the sea to see the near-immortal multi-colored corals and all the beautiful thriving life underneath the waves. Its exhilarating really. Theres a depth in your work that makes it feel alive and almost timeless which I'm extremely motivated to achieve basically. Considering you've never let on or at least hinted that you're a professional writer irl or anything like that at all, and the fact that you somewhat implied you write because of passion is incredible because that means (this is all assumption of course) that you've likely been doing this stuff for years for free out of love and (likely) for yourself which is. Actually crazy honestly, as someone whos very prone to giving up even if I'm passionate about my work.

Okay, wait, this is getting too long, whoopsie.

I kinda want to say more but unfortunately I dont have the energy to type everything down since my mushy emotions about the fic are hard to pin down enough to make a coherent description right now. Ah and sorry if this ask gets a bit incoherent at times, english is my 2nd language and I'm also not very good at spelling either 😅.

But yeah.

Thank you for taking the time to make each chapter a wonderful, awe inspiring experience Miss Dork, you're a fantastic writer and I'm hoping I'll be able to see more of your fics/works in the future, even if its not in the Rottmnt fandom.

-K.M

First off KM, you are SO FREAKING SWEET!!! WHAT A TREAT IT WAS TO READ ALL THIS!!! YOU ARE TRULY DARLING AND I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH!!!!

Ah no puke!! Was this chapter nerve wracking?? When I write I get a little removed so I don't really know sometimes what emotions it might illicit...

Life changing? Ahhh! 💞 They always say communication is key to a relationship and sometimes when people harp on something it's absolutely because it's true! A big part of Weak Spot is I wanted to challenge myself that the relationship itself was never a point of contention. These two loved each other right off the bat and them being together was never going to be something contested. Now everything around them happens to be an on and off dumpster fire, but c'est fiction~

Wah!!! I'm truly so honored by everyone who seems to wait on pin and poodles for my writing! I am constantly in awe that you all want to read my silly indulgent story!

You look up to me? I'm going to cry for real. No like, no joke, reading this actually is making me a bit choked up! 😭💞 I'd love to dive into my experience if it might help. I would not shun being called an experienced writer as it's something I've done on and off for almost two decades, but I only began writing seriously (read hyperfixiating) since 2019. Since I have zero chill, I sort of speed ran the writing process, but that's not what I attribute to my media literacy. I don't know if I'd call myself a hypercritical person (some would call me that for sure), but I have always loved to examine the media I consume. I can absolutely turn my brain off and have a good time (I have a long love affair with 'bad movies'), but I also love thinking and love expanding. When it came to reading, I often trend toward fiction books that talk about peoples lives, Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe and Eva Luna by Isabel Allende come to mind, in addition to autobiographies such as Just Kids by Patti Smith. For visual media, my friends often like to joke that no one can pin down my style because I happen to like such a broad range of films. I think all movies are good in different ways, whether they are indie, autobiographical, fictional, magical, poignant, bro comedies, ect and so forth. You mentioned the recent chapter (56) with the field metaphor. I watched Lamb (2021) this past October and was picturing the large estate pictured Iceland when writing it.

I think studying others writing styles is good and I often do it to my peers. I've surely geeked out to both TheKingPen and desceros about their own writing styles and metaphors, the like, as you described of mine! I asked them probing questions on how they work because I was/am endlessly fascinated by their prose! We're all sponges, humans I mean, and I believe that our lives are pinball machines where we bounced wildly off one another. Only we are malleable creatures and with each ping, we take a little bit of that other person with us. Whether that be actual people or media consume, I consider that the same. We're tapestries to be woven as the Greeks said about fate and this fact isn't just romanticized, it's science as indicated by epigenetics!

The technique you're searching for sounds like one under the house of metaphor, maybe extended? 🤔

It's funny you call me mature because as soon as you said "slow and almost inconsequential/very normal (yet tremendously intimate) their daily life" I literally screamed and bounced as if my tail was wagging! Hello, you've tapped something Dork is feral about so prepare for another tangent:

I am OBSESSED with what I call banal dialog!!!

Now this is a point of contention with many of my movie friends, but I will die on this hill any day of the week. For this example, I'm going to take one of my favorites: Reservoir Dogs (1992)! Now do I like Reservoir Dogs? Honestly? Meh. I'll never forget their use of Steeler's Wheel, but that's not what's important here. What's important is the opening scene! We open on a seemingly innocuous and, to many, boring scene with eight gangster at a diner who aren't even talking about the heist. They're talking about other things and interacting with their food and the wait staff at the diner. Some think this scene is useless and doesn't do anything for the film and I will punch every one of those people in the face with my ferocity alone. That scene does EVERYTHING for the film. In fact is does the most heavy lifting out of most scenes in Hollywood. Sure, a monologue can do wonders or a silent following of a character through say their morning routine reveals a lot, but you know what really fucking reveals the most about a person? How they act in public!! The fact that Mr Pink doesn't tip isn't some fucking pseudo speak on tipping in America (though it could be) it's a jumping off point for you to know EVERYTHING about his character in one tiny itty bitty seemingly nothing display! We know he's staunch. We know he's steadfast. We know EVERYTHING we need to know about his personality and BONUS? Because he pushed back against the norm, every other character at the table (if they wanted) got a chance to voice their opionions so we got reads on all their personalities too. We see one many get easily swayed, we see another show his intelligence, we see yet another show the level of sympathy he has. All these things end up dictating how the heist in the movie actually goes and why and it all came from a few paltry minutes at the beginning of the film where they ate breakfast!

UNF JUST TALKING ABOUT IT HAS MY HEART AFLUTTER!

Now the most lethal Reservoir Dogs for this purpose (btw fuck Quentin Tarantino) because it is WITH PURPOSE! You can't just be banal for nothing. You have to be banal for a reason. I've been pretty outspoken about it before, but I also don't believe films/movies/shows/ect should ever have scenes without purpose. Everything that's done should serve the plot! Banal moments SERVE PLOT and I think it's a very underutilized concept.

Honorable mention to Hayao Miyazaki and his art of silence. I mentioned it above in following a character, but Miyazaki (and typically other Japense directors) know when to let scenes 'breathe' so to speak which does what banal dialog does in a literary sense. The breathing gives perspective for both the characters and the audience and I think is very much worth throwing into this conversation.

Also hey, look! You did a metaphor right there with your deep waters comparison. I could see it though I would totally disagree with your kiddie pool reference to yourself. You will never be me and i will never be you. Your work has just a right to exist as any other and who knows, I might have read it if you've put it out! I might recommend it to other people! I'm a big fan of many works, whether they're 'good or not' (whatever that means) that doesn't mean they don't have place! There are fics I've read that story wise or say writing wise are a TOTAL MESS and I love them regardless because maybe their character portrayal was flawless or their idea was just so good I loved that they were creative enough to share it!

Plus and I don't mean this is a braggadocios kinda way, but no one and I mean NO ONE should compare themselves to me. This is written in a derogatory sense: I am not a normal human being. One of my best friends asks me all the time "how are you still alive?" and my answer is "I DON'T KNOW MAN!" I am not someone to look up to or someone to emulate. I am just feral and hungry and no one in the this world, not even me, can get a handle on this leash.

That being said, I am so blown away by how you describe my work! Consider me shifted from choked up to misty eyed! I am not a professional writer by any means, but I'd love to turn my work into books. I just have no idea how to break into the market! I definitely do this all out of love (READ HYPERFIXATION!) and yeah for free (not discounting my pateron folks, I love you endlessly forever, but it ain't a living though it is IMMENSELY appreciated! Ya'll pay for the patreons I sub to and like a fast food meal once a month XD)

No apologies for the length! It was such a blast to get this! Also you did AMAZING! I was never confused once and your thoughts had a clear through line without being confusing in the slightest! Your English is impeccable!

Thank you for taking the time to read and write to me!!! Def got more fics coming (Valentine's fic, a aroace Mikey fic that also happens to be a Donnie x reader, and more weak spot and her sequel!)!

Feel free to hit up my DMs if you want to talk more! Thank you again!!!!

[juleteinthrum]

zim made a very small, simple mistake today in his self care rituals. i am alright, but i am very exhausted. im certain that all 3 of my parts were out one after the other. it was disturbing to realize the distinct line between them and watch myself switch. Zim, Cascade, then Zim again and me, Limabean. it isnt as if one of us is a traumatized part and the other normal, we each felt our traumas in big ways. Zim felt the crushing weight of reality, and his body. cascade was self depricating, destructive, hateful. and i was.... reeling. i was nothing. the human boy. i was the body with the remorse of wanting to be Zim. but i am zim. and my voice and body innerworld matched me,

but truly who could i be? i am not sure. everyone surely blames me for the mass fusions, though they repeatedly comfort me otherwise, 

it is just so hard, watching these people i have come to know and unwillingly care for suffer the loss of their families. watching the dread and grief enter my own chest as i realized mikah was gone, oli was gone. tyler too, but less impressive and devastating. i took Oli and Mikah. i deleted them from pluralkit. 2 alters both well known, praised and loved in the system. just simply gone. unreachable. it feels as if they are supposed to reply still. even in their silence delivering thoughts and feelings abstractly and warmly. like sparks. like switching away from them and looking innerworld at them as they walked away, waving with a smile into the wind.

theyre supposed to be here and because of me they are not. because something i dared to do pulled them in so hard that it made me breathe again. like everything started from scratch.

kimokah is no less shocking, and all encompassing bewildering. i loved kiara, mikah and king moa. i should not be this surprised mikah would be so large she had to be shared. im sure some of her devoted into kiba as well. astonishing, really. it hurts but it hurts like a muscle thats been worked properly. like your exhaustion is coming from an incredible hike and not a terrible shift at a fast food restaurant. 

they are not gone i am told. but arent they? though something of them lingers and can never be left behind, i am distraught at the thought of never again the same. forever, our mindscape has changed, and while i may always be some form of polyfragmented and will always watch us come and go, i find comfort and peace in a brief simplification. i wrote a list and did not feel need to include absolutely everyone. gobber, nuzzle and hiccup, hilda and bojack, the warriors and a save few guardian generals. they all laid their heads down and looked up at the stars in their homes together, we had a new image to stare at for a while. we had something new to watch. even if it was ancient, even if all that remained were fragments of something i used to love. even if i will join them one day. this is now. i can remember what it felt like to be them, and i cant wait to see how it feels to be me unmasked.

yes. this will be okay. we are changing. thank you for letting it be with me.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

You: they were both bad to/for each other and guilty of being abusive/toxic

These anons: I cant believe you're defending misogyny

Every person who makes me even abstractly defend Depp because they can’t be normal or objective about Heard owes me $20.

[summercurial]

km: dom inflicts pain then tells you "you are being SO brave about it"

okay so i assume the specific phrasing is you Posting, but like. getting to demonstrate my ability to accept pain is a big part of why i like the idea of someone hurting me. i had this karate teacher when i was like 13 and he made a big thing of my low pain tolerance cuz id tap out fast when soemone had me in an arm bar and its like, shut up dude i tap out fast cuz i dont want some dude to fuck up my elbow, i actually have a great pain tolerance, fuck off. but anyway i think i really do have a pretty great pain tolerance. and its like. you want to be able to like. you want to be able to do something difficult for your dom, something unpleasant maybe even, and pain is just. its the best purest form of that. but then i cant just be doing it like. abstractly. i need the praise to go along with it, to know that im being Good and all that.

[traumatisedbabygay]

ight im gonna go off about the gender crisis again, because its my blog and vent space and i'll do what i want ;)

would i be allowed to label myself as agender, even though i dont experience any gender discomfort? Like, when someone calls me a girl, or says im a sister, daughter, ect, i dont feel uncomfortable. I just feel....indifferent. It doesn't necessarily feel right, but if it felt wrong surely id be feeling more than just mild confusion. agender usually means "genderless", but could it also mean gender...indifferent? Gender...apathetic?

If i were to try and make a comparison so i can better comprehend my thoughts, itd be this. If i were unconscious due to, idk, anaesthesia or something, and then had a surgery performed, id feel nothing. Id feel no pain, no tickling. If when i was still asleep after my mum caressed my face i wouldnt feel comfort. I wouldnt feel anything. Good, bad or neutral. All i would feel would be the dreamscape that the medically induced deep sleep placed me in: abstract. Non definable. One minute in that dream i could be strolling through an enchanted forest, the next I could be falling endlessly. But no matter what happened in those dreams, my physical body would be too out of it to react. Its like my gender identity is in a very deep sleep, feeling nothing objectively but everything abstractly, all at once.

Now lets say those "abstract dreams" in the metaphor was presentation. Most of the time i present very feminine, traditionally. My style is vintage/historical, lots of long skirts and frilly blouses and braided hair. Dressing like that makes me confident, comfortable. But I also really enjoy dressing more masculine. Of course, with super long hair ill always appear somewhat feminine, but wearing waistcoats and vintage trousers and shirts makes me feel confident too. I once said to my nana when i wore a particularly masculine outfit "some days i want to be elizabeth bennet, but somedays i want to be mr darcy". But no matter how feminine or masculine i feel, i dont know how to interpret that as gender. I feel like a girl, if "feeling like a girl" could be defined as "feeling like a vague blur of nothingness". Or am i just equating femininity with girliness. Do i actually just feel feminine, but not "girly".

sjdhskdjdjjddjdjfh why is this so confusing? I genuinely think either agender or genderqueer are labels to consider, even if no label feels better. With the way my brain works, i still need some form of label. but how do i know im not just overthinking things? If i am just, in fact, a cis girl who doesnt understand what that really means?

Surely its not that uncommon an experience? To not be able to recognise what gender feels like. I dont even know what its *meant* to feel like, unlike when i was questioning my sexuality and knew exactly what liking men was meant to feel like bc of my straight friends. Can i call myself a girl for simplicity's sake? It doesnt make me sad or uncomfy, if im being honest it doesnt feel like anything. Could i say im a genderqueer girl? As in, "i'll say im a girl if asked only because the real answer is so fucking complicated and undefined that even I dont know how to word it". As in "i might say im a girl but really my relationship to gender and womanhood is so much more than that. my gender is paradoxial. I both feel and dont feel like something, but i dont even know how to describe that small "something"."

Or would i say im a genderqueer femme? I dont mind being equated with feminitity, but underneath that feminine surface everything is so jumbled and hard to decipher that its easier to just act like a girl and not think about it.

but now ive opened the can of worms. i kinda have to think about it now.

or would i just say, "hey, im (name), my pronouns are she/her but idc if you use anything else, and im......i exist." Because at the end of the day, does it matter that i cant put how i feel into words that feel adequate? Surely just existing, acknowledging that *something* is going on beneath the surface but knowing it doesnt affect me enough to seek out a label, is fine too, right?

god why is this so fucking hard

[illfoandillfie]

5 Simple Rules for a Successful Relationship: Blurb

This wasn’t requested by anyone but the idea has been kicking around my head basically since I wrote the Ben POV chapter

Warnings for fluff and smut but it’s all very soft

5 Simple Rules Series Masterlist

Blurb Advent Day 1

Taglist since it’s part of a series: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies 

@coni-martina @hardforbenhardy @cubedtriangle @vicouscirce @arianabrashierstuff @pattieboydwannabe @maggieroseevans @theprettyandthereckless @friccinfricks 

Ben had it all planned out. He’d known how he was going to ask for a while, before he’d even picked out the ring. But, so far, he hadn’t been able to put his plan into action. As much as he wanted to ask it never quite felt like the right time. There was always something going on, somewhere to be – work or dinner with friends or general errands to sort out. But he knew how he wanted it to happen. He’d cook dinner, your favourite meal of course, followed by dessert made from scratch, really bring out the big guns. Afterwards he’d put on some music, a playlist of love songs he’d been adding to for months now, maybe ask you to dance. It was a little corny but sometimes corny was okay. Later on he’d pop into the kitchen and pull out your two mugs and place the ring in the bottom of yours before returning to the couch to sit with you. And then, at the usual time, he’d say he could really go with a hot drink before bed. He knew you’d volunteer to make them since he’d made dinner so he’d wait for you to leave the room before following. He’d listen for the gasp of surprise when you checked the mugs and saw the ring. That would be his cue to step into the room and get down on one knee and ask you to marry him. He had the speech ready to go too, knew what he wanted to say. How fast he’d fallen for you, how glad he was you were with him, how much he loved you.

Thinking about actually popping the question made Ben nervous. But the good kind of nervous. Of course the topic of weddings and marriage had come up before, abstractly. It was nearly unavoidable when his mum would not-so-subtly check for an engagement ring every time you visited, and then even less so when Gwilym got engaged and invited you both to the party. So he’d asked you about it, whether you had ever considered the whole settling down thing – marriage, kids, white picket fence, the lot. He was pleased to find out you liked the idea, had even imagined what the future might be like with him. The only thing you didn’t want was a public proposal which Ben fully supported. After all the attention you’d received as a result of the relationship, all the magazine articles and snapped photos while you were just trying to buy milk and bread, it felt wrong to voluntarily make such a private situation public. Ben was sure you’d be asked about it in future interviews and on social media and he wouldn’t mind sharing the story then, after he was sure you’d say yes. He had no reason to believe you wouldn’t but there was always that slight uncertainty, that intrusive doubt that made him wonder if you’d just tell him to bugger off instead. He found comfort in the plan though. Knowing exactly what he would do was reassuring. But even the best laid plans weren’t guaranteed.

Ben’s actual proposal caught him off guard as much as it did you. It was early on a Saturday, sometime between two and three. Usually you’d both be fast asleep but instead you were stumbling into the house, lit only by the grey light of the morning. You hadn’t meant to stay at the afterparty for so long but people kept handing you drinks and drawing you into conversations and music was still pumping through the speakers and before you knew it five more minutes had become a couple of extra hours. Ben emptied his pockets onto the hall stand as he watched you lean against the front door and kick off your shoes. He couldn’t resist catching you in a quick kiss before he wrapped his arm around you with a soft, “C’mon cuddle bunny,” and lead you towards the bathroom. Both of you set about brushing teeth and washing faces and changing into pyjamas. He chuckled as he watched you extract an almost obscene amount of bobby pins from your hair before you retied it to sleep in. But, even after everything was done and you’d both climbed under the covers, sleep didn’t come. Ben, eyes closed in an attempt to trick sleep into taking him, felt you move under his arm and peeked through his lashes to find you facing him.

“You okay?” His voice was hushed though there was no real need and when you responded yours was too.“Yeah just not really tired,” “Me neither,” “Do you wanna…?” “Now?” “Well just lying here waiting to drop off is a bit boring but I also don’t really feel like getting up,” “Alright then, why not.” “If you fall asleep half way through I won’t hold it against you,” “Shut up and take your pants off,” Ben laughed, already wriggling out of his. “You just didn’t sound very enthusiastic,” “I am always enthusiastic about this,” Ben forgot everything else he might have said as you pulled him into a kiss.

The sex itself was okay. Nothing special really. You’d had better sex plenty of other times, though you’d also had worse. The best way to describe it was fine. It wasn’t mind blowing but it was comfortable and reliable and fine. Ben felt a little clumsy as he kissed you back, his hand roaming over your side and down to your arse. He supposed the dark of the room and the drinks you’d both put down over the course of the night were having an impact, but, by the way you giggled against his lips, it seemed you found it cute more than anything else. To compensate for his inelegant fingers, Ben moved slowly, enjoying kissing you as much as he could. He hummed when you slid your hand down between your bodies and found his dick, stroking it unhurriedly. There wasn’t a need to go faster, no built up passion to release. The sex was a way to kill some time. Even when you hooked your leg over his and he sank into you, nothing really changed. But Ben knew what you liked and did his best to hit those spots as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you again. He decided he must be doing something right based off the small keening noises you made. All the same he didn’t expect your next outburst, said softly right against his lips.

“God Ben, I want you inside me forever,” It slipped out before he could second guess himself, “Then marry me,” “What?” Ben paused his movement, not totally sure he’d actually said it until he drew back enough to look at you and saw the stunned expression you wore. His heart pounded as he realised this was it, this was the moment, “Might be easier to do that if we’re married is all. So, will you? Will you marry me?” It took a few moments for the question to sink in but once it had you nodded in agreement. You felt the same. “Yes?” “Yes.” “Yeah? You’ll marry me?” “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you,” Ben broke out into a grin and swept you into another kiss though he cut it off abruptly, “Wait, hold on,” somewhat ungracefully Ben pulled out of you and rolled out of the bed, switching on a lamp and heading over to his chest of draws. He dug around in one for a moment before he pulled out a small box which he brought back to the bed. Kneeling in front of you, he popped the box open to show you the ring before taking it and sliding it onto your finger.

You couldn’t help but stare, holding you hand out in front of you to see how it looked. It was beautiful, not too over the top but not exactly understated either, and it fit perfectly. When you raised you eyes back to Ben’s face you noticed his eyes glistening. “I love it Ben, I love you,” “I love you too Y/N,” he whispered back, kissing you again and laying you back down.

As Ben sank back into you, you placed your hand on his chest, picking up his body heat except where the cool metal of the ring lay. You could feel his heart beating under your palm as he rolled his hips against you, trying to finish what you’d started. It took a little while longer, though things moved less slowly than they had before the interruption of the proposal. Ben dropped his fingers to your clit as he felt you getting closer, drawing gentle circles until the warm wave rolled through you, pulling a soft sigh from your lips. He kept his fingers there as if to try to give you another orgasm, maybe one not quite so soft, but you pulled his hand away, linking his fingers with yours as you kissed his throat and encouraged him to finish too. It didn’t matter that your orgasm hadn’t been particularly powerful. All that mattered was that Ben was with you and he always would be.

Afterwards you curled up, leaning your head on Ben’s chest, his arm around you. He sighed contentedly and kissed the top of your head. “So much for sleeping,” he chuckled. “What we did was better than sleep,” “Definitely. And if we hold out for a little longer we could watch the sunrise,” “I don’t know if I’ll last that long,” “No, me neither. It’d be nice though,” You agreed and lapsed into a comfortable silence. And then a thought struck you, “You know, we’re going to need a cover story,” “What?” “People are going to want to hear the story of how you proposed. Felicity, Joe, Gwil, the rest of our friends, our families, not to mention paparazzi and the press, they’ll all ask.”  “Fuck.” “So you don’t want to look your mother in the eye and explain it happened mid shag either? Good to know we’re on the same page,” Ben laughed, “Funnily enough, that was very unplanned. I had something much more romantic and better prepared in mind when I thought about how I’d do it. A whole big speech about you being the love of my life and how I want to spend every day of my life making you feel happy and safe and loved,” “Go on then, what was it,” Ben explained his original idea, about the dinner and the mugs, all the while playing with your fingers as if he didn’t want to break contact.  “That does sound wonderful, but I have to admit, I really love how it actually happened,” “Me too,” he laughed, “But that’s good. Because now we have a story to tell everyone and a slightly more accurate story just for ourselves.”

[azazeldream]

my lips touched the skin of your neck

my tongue longing to taste you for the first time

but feeling like it had happened before,

my whole body in ecstasy and volatile

one wrong move and im back to feeling used

but he didn't even come close to that,

lovingly touching me

and grabbing me with lust,

our bodies belonged do that time

in that moment

the tension rising our temperature-

oh,

the slow kiss..

i notice how soft your skin is,

how blue your eyes are,

how your existance is so beautiful,

almost undeserving of me,

your lips soft,

our energies embracing each other,

my mind rushing and quiet at the same time-

       you bite my lip pull my hair my leg is over you my hands groping you.

you kiss so well,

i cant imagine how your mouth you'd feel on my-

       my dick is so wet i can feel you through the pants on my hand i bite your neck and leave a hickey-

suddenly wind comes out of my throat,

like a gift that would be physical for maybe some days,

but abstractly it is his.

       i feel a vague spot.

luckily, he embraced me and gave me a part of him back,

only our bodies,

only our breath,

but in reality

our souls

[arcticdementor]

Woke has been the law of the land since the 60s This is My reaction after reading some recent pieces from IDW and pre-2010 left type. Noteably the Andrew Sullivan piece in the bare links repository where he somehow can’t compute the fact that Woke is a direct consequence of his beloved obama era liberalism. . I really have no patience for “Liberals” who accept every woke premise and just lament that they didn’t think the principles they’d already endorsed would be applied. Absolutely everything wrong with woke was present in the 1964 civil rights act and attendant 1970s anti-Discrimination law. You can’t put up a sign saying “no blacks allowed”. Ok you’ve just accepted that government gets to regulate the speech of private businesses right down to single person lemonade stands and hand drawn signs. You can’t allow hostile work environments. Ok you’ve just mandated that the government gets to determine that businesses must fire individuals for their political speech, even outside the workplace. The government now gets to designate untouchables who cant be hired based on their dissident political commitments. The efforts to fire Jordan Peterson for criticizing the mandating of Trans-acceptance is a direct logical consequence of this. Once you’ve accepted that the government can legally mandate that businesses must fire avowed neo-nazis or face lawsuits for creating a “hostile work eviroment”. Well its not just jews who will demand not to have a “hostile work environment”, and its not just open nazism thats “hostile”. Soon merely not using accepting language or preferred pronouns is (more or less correctly) judged to be a core signal of political affiliation and thus of acceptance or hostility, and then merely debating from the wrong side whether such should become the law becomes the point of “hostility”. Once you’ve accepted the legal system gets to make these judgements and gets to judge whether you are employable based on your political beliefs and levy penalties against your employer for not firing you, its already over. You’ve already accepted that freedom of speech and freedom of association is voided the second anyone has a dissident oppinion or exchanges a dollar. You’ve accepted that the government can bully the employers of its political enemies into firing them and preassure service providers into denying service to the politically proscribed. Every statement firing a James Damore or any other high profile figure explicitly cites these laws and explicitly says “We believe this person is creating a hostile work enviroment” (ie. exposing us to government liability) and yet “liberals” and conservatives blame the corporations instead of the very real laws they point to which mandate their behaviour. . We live in a society which has accepted the premise that “Niceness” and “Tolerance” and “Acceptance” and “Basic Human Decency” are not only virtues that should be praised or the absence of a moral failing that would be condemned, but prerequisites that can be mandated by law, complete with life destroying punishments if they are found wanting. The fact that most laws do not even bother clarifying what these extraordinarily vague terms mean, thus leaving it to the whims of those in power, is secondary to the core problem: we have accepted that freedom of speech, freedom of concience, and freedom of association is fully void in all domains political and personal. You may not abstractly endorse an ideological commitment that is verboten without activating government liability for you, your employer, or your private business that you run, nor may have a mere personal interaction that does not broach political topics if it is done in a way that the government has decided it doesn’t like such as calling a gay person “weak and unmanly” or a woman sexually undesirable. Statements that could well be mere interpersonal conflict not even aproaching a broader political commitment, but none the less something the government has decided it has a keen interest in and will gladly punish you, your employer, or your private business over. “Liberals” and “Conservatives” have accepted that Freedom of Association, Freedom of Speech, Freedom of Conscience, Freedom of Religion, private property rights, the right to be left alone, etc. does not apply to people who aren’t nice or who are morally defective. They merely object to the fact that people like them are now being judged morally defective and that power is no longer on their side.

KulakRevolt

[merrysithmas]

people who arent good at organizing their thoughts orally without preparation are always at a disadvantage in a spoken conflict. we often get stepped on, spoken over, interrupted, our concerns disqualified and callously classified as disjointed or misplaced. or even straight up ignored in the middle of a sentence. it is something that has always deeply bothered me but i only recently realized.

the moment i can WRITE OUT what is wrong via text or post, im completely clear and it eliminates the verbal barrage and anxiety of having to speak to someone with more articulate or powerful (or loud or rude) verbal delineation. taking out the sound levels the field.

i feel better now understanding that all those times someone made me feel wrong or confused or disorganized but i KNOW i had a very strong and valid point i wasn't just making it up.

up until now i always feel gaslit in verbal arguments because i can never get my whole point out (so my concerns are deemed wrong or weak). since i think both very abstractly and sequentially at the same time - the thing is: it's hard to put that thinking into words! it's much easier to put it into writing. im just not good at talking in that way. i feel so validated!

i honestly feel much more at peace knowing i dont have to engage with people in verbal conflict especially if they dont take the time to listen (as people usually dont when they argue). i'm not a particularly soft spoken person but i deeply dislike yelling, i almost can't do it. i dont even have the ability to really raise my voice. when i cant get my point across i always try harder and harder to do so, and it ends up upsetting me + with the additional stress of having to talk "louder" to explain myself.

i'm not the kind of person who is good at articulating myself verbally in that way, and if people dont take the time to let me explain myself without disregarding me then i truly dont care 😂 i really dont! i feel free 😂 it's their loss.

my feelings are just as valid and just because i cant completely explain it out loud without first decluttering it from the emotionality of an argument through another from of communication (text) doesnt make it any less real and important!

i really never see "inspirational" self-growth posts about stuff like this and i realized why --- we are all bad at explaining it 😂😂

that's why "speeches" and writing and art are so easy but being put on the spot with a verbal question is harder, because you already organized your thoughts through another mode of communication (text).