#as a disabled woman i am all for needing to be saved

[autism-alley]

y’all headcanoning poseidon as purposefully sending medusa’s head back to sender knowing gabe would open it is like. entirely missing the point of sally jackson’s character and also SO fucked up if it was poseidon?? who used medusa’s head to kill an asshole man?? like!! what the fuck! not to mention sally jackson?? ms. sally jackson? who kills her abusive husband? who on multiple occasions rejected the help of the man who is both a god and her former lover bc she wants to build her life herself—? and who does it? “if my life is to mean anything, i have to live it myself.” those are sally jackson’s words. the abuse itself was already incredibly watered down in the show and that is upsetting. to have gabe accidentally kill himself because he’s a bumbling idiot waters down her agency against her abuse and is even more so upsetting. to have not just a man but a literal god kill her husband for her is so. do you not see how that’s even worse. and then add in that god being poseidon and the method of murder is medusa’s head? i don’t even have words to articulate it, just—

no matter how you cut it, narratively you only disrespect and degrade sally when gabe’s life is taken by any hand that isn’t hers, and having that hand be poseidon’s is just wild.

[skelejon]

"Not to defend the monarchy but-" I am going to stab you in the throat

[gallusrostromegalus]

Basically. I got screwed.

I am very sorry for how relatively quiet this blog has been but I've been dealing with a very unpleasant situation the last few months, and now I need help.

Essentially, I tried to help someone out, and she took advantage of me, and I have no way to recoup my losses.

Earlier this year, I moved into a new house. Before we sold the old house, a Now-Former friend ran into some trouble and was about to become homeless with pets and a small child. Not wanting them to be on the street, we offered to hold off selling the old house so she could stay there for a little while, if she could pay the cost of the mortgage on that house (because I could afford one mortgage but not two) while we helped her find somewhere more permanent.

I was not making money from this- since I was still paying the utilities and property taxes, I was actually losing money, but willing to soak that in order to help her save up and get her on her feet.

Instead, she:

Never Paid a Dime towards covering the mortgage costs like she agreed ($12,000 for the nine months she was there)

Trashed the house ($500 dump fees for the trash alone)

Let her pets piss and shit all over the house ($1,500 bio hazard cleanup, $4000 to replace the carpet and other damaged flooring)

Caused an electrical issue in the garage ($900 to repair)

Broke the washer, dryer and refrigerator ($2500 to replace)

Broke the fence ($1000 to repair)

When I told her I could no longer financially support her and that I needed to sell the old house, she illegally squatted there for a solid three months and I had to hire a lawyer and actually take her to court to get her to leave ($2,500)

The resulting stress has been, as you can imagine, stressful.

So stressful, in fact, that it aggravated a the medical conditions my husband had and made him extremely sick. He had to go to the hospital and take time off work to recover. Now the health insurance is trying to weasel out of paying his short-term disability claim.

So net, this woman has managed to cost me around $25,000 and that's not taking into account the missed paychecks and medical expenses. I do not have $25,000, and until at least $13,000 of that is spent to repair the damage she did, I legally cannot sell the house to even begin to recoup my losses.

Theoretically, I could sue this woman, but she doesn't have any money and it would be me paying even more money I don't have to get... Nothing. So I'm asking for help to cover the costs of getting the old house ready to sell, my husband's medical expenses, and other expenses incurred by this debacle:

If you can help out in any way-share, donate spare change, anything- I'd be extremely grateful.

Thank you.

[anqelically]

IKIGAI | OSAMU DAZAI X FEM!READER

002. FLIGHT JA815S

CHAPTER SUMMARY: An airplane is in need of saving because of the Azure Apostle, so the agency saves the passengers with the help of a young girl on the flight

CHAPTER WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 1.7K words

SERIES INTRODUCTION | CH1 | CH3

FOR THE NEXT HALF HOUR, Y/N was working as if it were a normal day, even though there was seldom a normal day at the agency. An ideal day, one would say. She sorted through some paperwork and checked any e-mails as they came in.

She noticed how a few of them were insulting the agency for their previously failed rescue of four innocent people. That incident is what led Kunikida to be in the headlines of the local newspaper.

After people recognized him as an Armed Detective Agency member, some took time out of their day to stand outside of the agency to yell or throw things at members. Y/N could recall how her eye almost got hit by a small rock. She was glad that Ranpo was there to block her face and catch the rock with his hat.

All the hate e-mails were immediately trashed, but the senders remained unblocked. Even if they insulted the agency, they were still people of Japan. And as long as they were, the agency would try to help them if they needed it.

Y/N thought they received another complaint when her laptop dinged. She checked the e-mail to see that it was not a complaint, but a message from the Azure Apostle himself.

She was quick to call over the closest worker, "Oneesan, look!"

Dear Sir,

I am contacting you to discuss a third request. Passenger airline flight JA815S is currently midflight. I have taken the liberty of sending an interference signal to the aircraft's engine and yoke that will disable their functions. I would like for you to remove the device from the aircraft and save the passengers. Thank you for your understanding.

Yours sincerely,

The Azure Apostle

Yosano looked over Y/N's shoulder to read the message that seemed to be directed to Kunikida, considering that he was leading the case and neither of them would be referred to as "Sir".

"More? You have got to be kidding," the woman groaned. She pulled out her phone to contact Kunikida. "Y/N, can you trace the email to the sender's location?"

"I can try," she began to type, "but you know I'm not good at stuff like that."

As the woman predicted, she failed to trace the location from where the e-mail was sent. She was able to send the message to Kunikida, but that was something anyone at the agency could do easily. However, setting up a three-way call between three completely different devices from her computer seemed to be something Y/N could do, and the others couldn't.

A video call from a passenger on the targeted airplane made it through to the police. Since the Armed Detective Agency was in charge of the case and not Yokohama's police, they transferred the call over to Y/N's computer. From there, she was able to talk to the little girl on the screen.

She had to be no older than 9 years old. Her brown hair was cut into a short bob, and her teary eyes peeked out from underneath her bangs.

Yosano and Ranpo sat nearby as Y/N talked with the little girl. The group of detectives watched her tremble as she stared into the camera. Although they could see her, she could not see them.

"Hi, I'm someone from the Armed Detective Agency. My name's Y/N, what's yours?" Y/N began the process of adding Kunikida's phone to the call on a separate monitor.

"Ch-Chiyo," the girl responded.

"Here, let me turn my camera on so you can see me," Y/N's face appeared on the screen beside Chiyo's. She gave the young one a soft smile, "Chiyo-chan, I need you to tell me what's happening. Can you do that?"

"O-Okay... Well, um, Mommy w-wasn't feeling well, so I'm talking f-for her. The p-plane is falling... s-so fast... Everybody's screaming-" a feminine-sounding yell cut her off. Chiyo jumped, "I-I'm scared. Please help!"

"Help is on its way, I promise. Just continue talking with me, okay? The more I know about what's happening there, the faster we can make things better for your mommy."

While Chiyo continued to describe what was going on, Kunikida's phone joined the call. A box with his name popped up on the screen, indicating that he and Dazai could listen and see both Natsuo and Chiyo.

"Did the pilots, the people in charge of the airplane, say anything else?" Y/N interrogated.

"They s-said the engine stopped moving, and th-the steering wheel d-doesn't work anymore, either."

"You hear that, Kunikida?"

"Yes," he spoke, "I heard. Doesn't sound good, obviously."

"Are we gonna d-die? E-everyone says we're gonna die... I'm scared. Mommy's not moving or a-answering me. P-please, please help us.." Chiyo cried further.

Y/N was going to try to comfort her, but all the words she wanted to say died in her throat. She was never good at comforting others, especially since she couldn't even recall the feeling of being comforted as she grew up. The warmth of comfort was something she felt only after she joined the Armed Detective Agency. But even so, she still wasn't good at providing it to others. "You'll be okay" and "It will get better" can only work so much.

Unexpectedly to Y/N, another voice joined the call, "Hello, little one. Can you hear me?"

"Y-yes."

Dazai then continued, "We here are airplane experts. There's nothing to worry about anymore. We're going to fix the plane. What's your name, little miss?"

"Chiyo."

"Chiyo, everything's going to be okay. Got any snacks with you?"

"Mommy g-gave me this piece of candy."

"Candy, huh? I love candy, too. It's so sweet, and it really helps you relax, doesn't it?"

"Dazai-" Kunikida's voice was cut off.

"I've got this..." Dazai sounded confident. "Chiyo, first, I want you to really take your time enjoying that piece of candy. After that, I'm going to need you to take that device you're talking into and bring it to the captain's room. Do you know where the captain's room is?" Chiyo wiped away her tears and nodded. "Don't worry. There's nobody screaming in there, and I bet your mommy will be feeling better in no time."

"B-but I... I can't go alone. I can't leave Mommy behind."

"Hey, Chiyo-chan, do you remember what I said earlier? We're here to help you, your mommy, and everyone else. I just need you to bring what you're talking on to the pilot of the plane. Can you go there and give it to them for us?"

The brown-haired girl stared at the side for a few moments before she took out the candy she said she had. She shakily placed it in her mouth, her hands still trembling as she picked up the communication device. Chiyo began to walk towards the cockpit.

While she walked, Y/N spoke to the other two on the line, "Do you want me to stay on, or do you think you guys can handle it?"

"Oh, we can definitely handle it," Dazai spoke. "But once this is all over, I never wanna partner with Kunikida again. Wanna pair up with me instead?"

"Enough with the unrelated talk! The case always comes first," Kunikida scolded.

"Oh, come on~ I'm trying to lighten up the mood."

"The mood is the way it is for a reason."

Y/N chuckled, never responding to Dazai's question, "Well then, I'll turn off now. Just ring me if you need anything from us here. Please stay safe, okay?"

"Of course."

"See you later, Y/N-chan."

Letting out a breath she unintentionally withheld, Y/N leaned back in her chair. Although most people would overlook it, she did not. After meeting Dazai earlier, Y/N didn't expect him to talk to Chiyo so easily. He was able to comfort her and have her bring the communication device to the pilot in one go. It was common for someone to comfort another, yet Y/N felt embarrassed that it was difficult for her to do so.

"Don't think about it," Yosano's voice reached Y/N's ears. She looked at the older woman, who continued, "Not everyone is good at everything. There is always a multitude of weaknesses within a person. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"You're reading my mind again," Y/N whined, her hands covering her face.

"You're easy to read," Ranpo cut in, a lollipop in hand. "You make all these facial expressions every time you feel something new. Your eyes soften when you're happy, you furrow your brows when you're sad, and you tilt your head when you're confused. You're very animated in general."

"Don't worry, we'll work on your poker face," the doctor rested her hands on Y/N's shoulder. "Otherwise, we can't ever play, and that's just a shame."

"Even if I don't know how to play, isn't it bad to gamble in the first place?" Y/N raised a brow.

"We gamble paperwork and, rarely, drinks. It's harmless."

"But I've never seen Oniisan lay a finger on any paperwork..."

Ranpo smirked, "That's because the greatest detective never loses."

"For now," Yosano challenged. "I'll beat ya in a game when you least expect it."

"Is that so? I might retire when the time comes."

"Isn't Dazai-san really smart too? What he manages to beat you, Oniisan?" Y/N questioned.

"No way."

"Long shot."

The youngest murmured, "That was fast."

Some time passed before Ranpo suggested, "Let's go bother the president. Hello~! We're here!"

Y/N and Yosano deadpanned when the detective slammed the door to Fukuzawa's office open with no shame. They briefly glanced at each other before they sighed, following the man inside. If Ranpo wasn't bothered to talk about the Azure Apostle, they were sure the problem would be resolved.

"Fukuzawa-sama!" Y/N greeted the man.

"Y/N," he acknowledged.

The young woman smiled before she sat down next to Ranpo. Yosano sat down too, and they fell into a conversation that lasted until Kunikida and Dazai returned.

They had a couple of bruises and scratches, but they succeeded in preventing the plane from crashing.

WRITTEN: 01/21/2023

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i wanted to get this over with asap so i can start writing an original case that y/n and dazai are going to be taking care of. let's hope it turns out well 👍🏻

@seneon @chuuyrr @kentopedia @cloudwisp @aureatchi

[crippledcherry]

I was harassed by a police officer today for existing as a disabled person.

You don’t really think about these things happening until they happen to you. I have multiple invisible illnesses, three of which are heart conditions. I have a permanent handicap placard because of these illnesses. I am also a woman in her young 20s.

I don’t go out very often, but when I do need to go to a store, I use my handicap tag whenever I can. It’s not uncommon for my heart rate to get very high and erratic just from walking around a store. I become very symptomatic and feel faint a lot of the times. I use it for my own safety and for some sense of independency.

Today, I went Christmas shopping for my siblings. I used my handicap tag. I have had it for almost a year now so I’m used to the mean looks and comments from complete strangers because I’m young and I don’t look sick from the outside. I knew I didn’t have many spoons and needed to save the few I did have for in the store and to make it home.

By the time I got back to my car, my heart rate was high and I was having palpitations and feeling faint. Usually if I need to give myself some time before driving, I’ll pull out of the handicap spot and park somewhere else so it’s available for anyone else who needs it. I couldn’t even do that today. I couldn’t even connect my music, I had to just sit down and focus on my breathing and try to get my heart rate to break.

I hadn’t been sitting there for even five minutes when I heard a loud pounding on my window. I looked up and saw a police officer. I rolled down my window and before I even had the chance to ask what was going on, he demanded to see proof that the handicap tag belonged to me. Didn’t ask if I was okay. I was alone, afraid, and felt like my heart was a fish flip flopping in my chest. I was very confused and he repeated himself very aggressively and said if I did not show proof then he would have to ticket me. I told him that I have heart conditions, it IS my handicap tag, it was prescribed by my doctor, and asked what I could show him as proof. He demanded to see my drivers license and then said, “unless you don’t have one.” I told him everything I was doing, reaching over to grab my purse, reaching in to grab my wallet, all while he went on a tangent about how he could arrest me right then and there if he wanted to. I showed him my drivers license and when he saw that my name matched the initials on my tag, he simply said “okay” and walked away.

He did not approach anybody else in a handicap spot. There was somebody in the spot directly in front of me who was eating lunch while occupying the handicap spot. I made sure that he didn’t go harass them as well, but he just walked away and didn’t approach anybody else. I was so shaken up that I didn’t think to get his name or badge number so I can’t even file a formal complaint.

The only thing that I can think of is that I am a young woman who doesn’t look sick. I was afraid, embarrassed, and felt degraded.

There are so many forms of ableism that you don’t even have to imagine until it happens to you. All I can think about is how many other disabled people have had experiences like this?

Living with a disability is hard enough on its own — we don’t need strangers, or especially law enforcement, to make it harder.

[bonebabbles]

God the new ultimate guide sucks

It's not JUST the awful art, either. The art's just worth mentioning because even if the book's info had been terrible or contained nothing new, really cute art can make it still worth having.

But, no, it's even full of recycled lines we've been hearing for years like "Bramblestar Can Match Squirrelflight's Fire Not Contain It," and that's when it DOES get everything right. These entries leave out major, important details (making them bad summaries) and are sometimes even straight-up incorrect.

SUMMARY THOUGHTS

Leafpool is said to have watched Brambleclaw kill Hawkfrost to save Firestar-- but for one, no, she was not there because Ashfur was still leading her and Squilf towards the scene. For two, no, Brambleclaw did not kill Hawkfrost just to save Firestar, it was self-defense. Hawkfrost had him pinned and was going to kill him.

They're REAL cute about Leafpool's death, too, neglecting to mention WHY the Sisters needed to be saved at all and just saying Leafpool's "generosity" lead to her death in that cave-in.

I'm not even going to get into everything on Bramble's entry jesus christ.

Sagewhisker's entry is ESPECIALLY fucken' dandy, framing Yellowfang's Secret like she was simply waiting patiently for Yellow to realize her 'destiny' and not actively shoving it on her at every opportunity.

Leopardstar's entry states that romantic interest in Tigerstar was part of her motivation. "Perhaps she'd hoped he would be her mate" please speak to a woman irl for once in your life.

Gray Wing's entry forgot that the reason he "blamed himself" for Bright Stream's death is because he was literally staring at his big strong brother too much and tripped on a root in front of him. It IS his fault she died.

Clear Sky/Skystar's entry is just obscene. "He regretted abandoning his son and after a fire, he encouraged him to live with him" instead of "saw his teenage child was useful now and bullied and belittled the kid and his uncle into letting Thunder come with him." "Retaining his fierceness towards his cats and outsiders which caused his son to leave" instead of "murdering, brutalizing, and abusing everyone around him caused Thunder to leave." I'll just say this tho; "Fierce" is an interesting way to spell "Cruel."

It's interesting that they don't point out that a major part of Jagged Peak's arc was proving he was "Just As Good" as every other cat in spite of his disability, thanks to his introduced-and-pregnant-in-the-same-book wife becoming his life coach, only earning Clear Sky's respect after being allowed to physically lead a patrol in Blazing Star. Instead they frame him finding his place through taking care of kits, which... was something he seemed to resent in the actual series, considering how the books suddenly treat Gray Wing's protective treatment of him as a terrible thing in Blazing Star because he "didn't give him a chance". But at the same time I actually strongly dislike Jagged Peak and his messy, frustrating character arc so I'm not really UPSET with it. Just... noting it. I suppose this is the official direction they're taking away from it?

Shadowstar's entry is barely even 3 paragraphs yikes.

SHORT STORY THOUGHTS

And if you're wondering if the 4 brand new stories they smooshed into the end in a desperate attempt to make the rush job worth buying are good? No. Of course not. They're all slop.

Story 1: Firestar and Graystripe

First one's a marginally cute story about Graystripe and Firestar which is setting up the framing device linking the mini-tales together. They both remember this situation where Firestar fell into a ditch wrong. The punchline is that Thunderstar remembers it perfectly and they're both like, "WOW! Too bad Thunderstar's memory sucks!"

It's not terrible, but it does feel a bit pointless. But, hey, if you want more Firestar and Graystripe in the series that tosses them fanservice at every turn, who am I to judge?

Story 2: Dovewing and Ivypool

The next one is the Dovewing/Ivypool reconciliation passage everyone's talking about. It's... fine, but immensely dissatisfying to me.

Dovewing is apparently having problems adjusting to her Clan, grapples a little bit with the fact she has no friends but is going to be finding meaning in helping tigerHeartstar "bring the new ShadowClan into existence." She ultimately decides that she needs to talk to her sister, and begs for reassurance that Ivypool believes in her, feeling that her support can help her get through this difficult time in her life.

I think its biggest problem is that Dovewing was not the right choice for the POV here.

Dove was never the one responsible for the rift in their relationship. Ivypool is. Ivypool is the one who was jealous, willing to sabotage anything that would put Dovewing closer to Tigerheart, and continues to be generally aggressive towards her. So when Dovewing is reaching out to Ivypool in hopes of them reconciling, it feels wrong because Ivypool is the one that should be reaching out to Dovewing. SHE is the one who has some things to apologize for, and to show how much she loves and misses her.

It's even kind of frustrating, because Dovewing can never catch a break. She has to have these problems to force her to reach out, Ivypool even ends up suggesting that she leave and come home and take her kids with her, but in the end even a LITTLE bit of assurance from her aggressive sister helps.

I feel super bad for Dovewing, man. She deserves better than this cheap writing. What was the point of such an unsatisfying, rushed reconciliation, shoved into a crummy field guide, when we KNOW from the newest book that they're just going to use tension between them as part of the drama anyway?

shouldn't have even been written, imo. Even ends off with, "They'll always have each other :)" which is so... cliche. It's TIRED. Are any of you really happy with just getting a retconned platitude in a good-for-nothing field guide, instead of seeing complicated, INTERESTING feelings in a main book?

Story 3: Alderheart and Twigbranch

A tale of Cherryfall getting sick during TBC and Alderheart sneaks back into the territory to treat her. Also Crowfeather has a scene where he yells at him. Charming.

Twigbranch comes up with a diversion while Alderheart does his work, which is cute. It's a fine story.

Story 4: Clear Sky

Trash. Three dogs spawn in the middle of a gathering so that Skystar can have an uwu big boy sendoff saving his grandkit. Then he goes to StarClan and throws a fit because they can't give him ANOTHER life, becoming so upset that he attacks the nearest woman. Naturally, Shadowstar brushes it off because it's not the first time Clear Sky has pummeled her in the midst of an adult tantrum and this book series thinks violence is fine if their favorite sadboy does it.

Then Gray Wing brings him to the magic mirror pool where you can see the living, to confirm that Star Flower is ok and that makes him feel better.

Then it launches into Firestar saying "ouuuugh yum I LOVE the taste of his butthole. Clear Sky is so misunderstood, He Just Loved Too Much."

to which Graystripe responds, "Yes, he was a good and amazing person and his farts smells SO good, and can you believe that some people think StarClan punished his Clan for his arrogance? As if he ever did anything wrong, ever?"

Firestar, indignant, refutes it with, "Ugh!! StarClan would NEVER be interesting, we don't punish living cats we just float around and make vague, frustrating prophecies that do nothing but pad the word count. Why cant ppl understand that, gosh."

who wrote this? Gray Wing??

[physalian]

Tackling Characters with Mental Health Issues (or, ‘Write What you Know’)

**Trigger warning for this entire post**

This is completely off the cuff and unplanned but here we go. I just read a book that POV switches between its two romantic leads. One of these leads was intended to be written with a severe case of generalized anxiety. I have confirmation from the author that it’s not an author-insert. This character was entirely based on research, not experience.

Without putting them on blast, because they really did try…. While ‘neurodivergent’ or ‘mental health disorder’ isn’t a protected class, it should still fit squarely under other topics you shouldn’t write about if you don’t experience it with a massive asterisk.

TL;DR: If you yourself aren’t part of X minority or suffer Z physical or mental disability, you should not be barred from writing characters with those traits. ***HOWEVER*** writing these characters struggling, suffering, or overcoming this given trait in a pro-cis, straight, white, neurotypical, able-bodied America is not yours to touch.

This suffering isn’t your story to profit off of, when you didn’t actually suffer any of it.

I cannot remember who said it and I am absolutely paraphrasing but for example: White authors can and should include characters of color (and I am a White author). White authors should *not* write about a character of color as their protagonist experiencing bigotry, discrimination, hate crimes, and all that hardship, at the hands of white society. It’s just not your story to tell, and all the research in the world will never give you the lived experience you need to do it justice.

Like, you can write about the concept of slavery existing in a fantasy novel. Or sci-fi. Or some Alternate Universe historical fiction. You cannot write about the American slave trade like you lived it and still suffer the ramifications of it when you didn’t, especially when it is the thesis of your entire book.

Anyone remember that awful Amazon movie, My Policeman? Based on a book written by a straight, white woman whose straight female lead took an entire narrative to whine about how she was jilted by her gay husband and his gay lover who she got arrested and institutionalized so she could keep her husband… and never told them? With the predatory 3rd love interest and the whole ‘liar revealed’ and… yeah. That one.

Unless you do the work very few authors are willing to do, with permission and encouragement and a backing from whatever minority you’re writing about and their stamp of approval that you knocked it out of the park, just don’t. Save yourself the headache.

—

As I read this book, and this entire character’s arc is about her mental health, for 100k words… why would you *want* to take on that responsibility? Why would you want to take on all that extra research, all the stress of making sure you get it right, all the costs of hiring sensitivity readers and the risk of your character falling apart with readers who do fit these traits?

Characters with mental health problems are very, very tricky to get right for one massive reason: Accurately depicting many disorders and anxieties means your character can come across as extremely unlikeable, uncompelling, confusing, and frustrating. These characters won’t make logical choices or arguments, they’re likely to self-sabotage, contradict themselves, argue in circles, and die on molehills they think are mountains. This is just what anxiety does to people in the real world. We are not always compelling protagonists, and we don’t always get happy endings.

Writing illogical characters takes a lot of practice if you yourself are not an illogical thinker and if you’re writing half a book elbow-deep in 3rd person limited, intimately trying to describe how this disorder impacts their daily life, you, my friend, have so much more work cut out for you than you anticipated.

So why?

It got very sticky very quickly when the message I took away from the book was “character A can love away character B’s anxiety” and that just… it’s just not how it works. That is a very dangerous mindset to have, for both parties involved.

Character A does not exist to “fix” Character B, nor should A exist to be B’s therapist.

Making A B’s “medicine” can encourage some dangerous codependency. Especially if they break up, B backslides and spirals, and A takes on guilt for not being there anymore, as if any of this is A’s fault.

It says that ‘curing’ anxiety just takes a little romance. Which. No. B has to love themselves, first, before they’re able to love anyone else or let anyone else love them.

It got stickier when the author accidentally wrote a trauma-induced ace who wanted to start liking sex to please her partner and not for her own peace of mind (with internalized self-hate for her anxieties around sex as if not liking it after a traumatic experience isn't completely justified), as if she wasn’t good enough with the boundaries she had. And the narrative backed it up because she was *cured* after a couple rounds in the sheets—I worked really hard on my Ace character guide to help stop people from doing this.

Had Character A accepted these boundaries B had, and these two come to a creative compromise around intimacy that B does like, it would have been so much healthier. B liked making out, just not being the 'recieving' partner, while A chose to die on a 'if we can't have the sex I want, I can't be in a romance with you' hill and it just broke my heart for B. B wasn't being picky. B was traumatized.

The worst thing you can do to your ace character is a) reinforce the idea that they’ve failed as a human because they don’t like sex and b) reinforce the idea that they “just haven’t found the right person yet” and this narrative hit both in the bullseye.

The author wasn’t trying to write an ace, I can tell, but aceness aside “good sex is the best cure to your sexual trauma” is… also, not great? If you yourself didn’t experience this? The point of all of this was clearly to attempt exposure therapy, it just got so bogged down with other problems that the nuance necessary to stick the landing was completely lost.

If this was fantasy, like Twilight, with Bella’s dangerous codependency on Edward in New Moon, mental health is not the point of that book. The author didn’t set out on a mission to provide respectful representation of depression and healthy relationship goals. It’s toxic as hell, but it also takes a backseat to the actual story and the audience who loves those books couldn’t care less about how toxic it is.

The books aren’t about Bella overcoming her depression. They’re about sparkly vampires and the dangers of… teen pregnancy?

It got even *stickier* when the character revealed she’d apparently been in therapy for a decade and a half, only for her therapist to shrug and go ‘I guess you’re stuck with it’ while her mental health issue became a physical health issue, because she should have had a crippling eating disorder that the narrative didn't at all take seriously.

Why would you want the stress of writing this?

—

I am not at all saying you can’t write anxious characters if you yourself are not anxious. But make that an ingredient of the pie and not the entire pie, yeah?

Ask yourself why you’re doing this. The fundamental argument of that book seemed to be “anxiety can be loved away” and from the very first page, it was doomed. That was the book’s thesis. The entire story hinged on the success of this depiction.

I can’t even be mad, because it wasn’t intended to be harmful, but it inadvertently reaffirmed so many dangerous and incorrect assumptions and stereotypes about mental health. Good intentions historically do not guarantee good results.

If you do not suffer from anxiety, you are still allowed to write a character who experiences it (Or OCD, specific phobias, BPD, what have you). I tip my hat to anyone willing to do all the work to get it right because those are all tall orders, but you aren’t blacklisted from these characters.

But with any minority, anyone who isn’t “cis, straight, white, male, neurotypical, and able-bodied” write a character who is also X, instead of an X stereotype, who happens to be your character.

[zagranismusic]

TRANS WOMAN FACING THREAT OF HOMELESSNESS

CW//Depression, suicide, and verbal abuse

Hello, my name is Serena Zagranis, I’m 20 years old, and I’m a trans woman living in New England. My mother is holding homelessness over my head, stealing my money from work, and emotionally abusing me and I need help bad.

Long story short, I don’t live in a good environment. I currently live in a house with my mom and my disabled little brother, we’ve been having financial troubles since I was born. We currently live off government checks and food stamps which is barely keeping our heads above water. My mom is physically and mentally unable to work due to her disabilities. As such, I have become the defacto “breadwinner” of the house, I’m the one with the job bringing in money and the one relied on to buy food.

I need to move out of my house, my mom has decided she is entitled to my money due to my existence under her roof and I simply don’t feel safe in the house due to her emotional outbursts, gaslighting, throwing out my furniture, manipulation and frequent use of her trauma and my housing as a weapon. I’ve been berated for getting food delivered for myself and when I ask her why, she’s “blown away” and “anyone with actual responsibilities would see how ridiculous it is to pay that much for food” when she is very painfully aware that I have no transportation, no constant savings and barely any food money, and no real choice over how my own finances get spent. This is on top of her asking me for monthly rent and taking money from my account whenever she feels she needs it. Now, I am very much aware, and I do not like ordering out but I need to eat. When I talk about how I feel judged she takes that as me painting her as a “fucking ogre” and I’m “not aware how good I have it”. I have tried numerous times to explain it to her but she will constantly give me the silent treatment, tell me to move, not be a reliable source of transportation for my job, or just be passive aggressive to further prod and instigate.

I’m posting this here because I am simply scared that if my mom finds any of this stuff she will threaten me into deleting it and silencing myself from the world, as she feels I am misleading people and spending their money on “useless shit” when I should just save up myself and take initiative which she knows is impossible with how she’s treating me. It’s hard to do that when I’m constantly losing money due to her stealing it and having no way of standing up for myself considering the threats and manipulation.

Linked below is my gofundme to help me move out along with my kofi for commissions. The situation is not life threatening but my mental state has been spiraling more and more over the past year and because of it I’ve had to seek external mental help for suicidal ideation and general c-ptsd after years of this treatment. Please help donate if you can, and if not, a simple reblog would be amazing. Thank you all for reading.

https://gofund.me/2ec89945 https://ko-fi.com/zagranis

[annabelle--cane]

at the risk of sounding Really Bad and with the caveat that I mean this in the most pro vaccine pro taking Covid extremely seriously way possible. I think conflating mental health/personal hobbies and habits with physical health and wellness in the time of a literal plague is actually part of why we are where we are. The example of opting out of treating a broken bone that you used is the perfect metaphor because that’s something that mostly effects the person with the broken bone. But if you’re treating every goddamn thing a person can do like it’s potentially viral it makes it easy to sound reasonable to advocate for a lot of vigilance against individual choice. Is this totally off base? do I sound like a reactionary dipshit conspiracy theorist right now? Just… there’s something here right??

even if that isn't the total root cause, I definitely think you're onto something. covid is literally a deadly and disabling viral disease, so the logic of "your actions regarding this impact others" makes total sense, but I think a lot of people took that language and framework and just ran with it, hoping that alluding to a deadly and disabling viral disease would lend credence to their arguments about mental health and personal decisions.

for example, I am constantly thinking about this take I saw on a post about drug decrim in december 2021. it's so special and dear to my heart, it makes no fucking sense at all. the only copy of the screenshot I still have saved is just the tail end of it and it has my annotations, so bear with me.

first, just for a moment, I love the complete breakdown of internal logic. we need to end the stigma around drug abuse but I think using heroin is exactly like being anti-vaxx. we should decriminalize all drugs but you'd have to be craaaazay to think that legalizing them is okay. wait until this person learns that some addiction treatment programs include prescribing opioids as a harm reduction measure.

second, using heroin is in no way like being anti-vaxx oh my god, and this person just can't tell. they are explicitly applying viral disease logic to mental illness* and choices about individual bodily autonomy. I don't want to minimize the pain and distress that can come from having a loved one with a substance use disorder, but in no world is it the same thing as refusing to go to cvs a few times to get a free vaccine against, once again, a deadly and disabling viral disease. groundbreaking leftist take: drug use makes you a hazard and drain on society and honestlyyyy you should think about the consequences of your actions before choosing to become an addict :/

I don't have screenshot for this next example, but I've also seen this language and mindset particularly come up a lot in discussions about "bimboism," makeup, and cosmetic surgery. I've seen several discussion threads where a woman finally just says "look, I'm adult, I've thought about this, I've interrogated myself, and ultimately I still want to do it and I can do what I want with my body" and the comeback to usually is "are you stupid? this isn't just about you, you're a member of a society who inherently expresses your ideology through your choices. the personal is political, stop being so individualistic. what will young girls think when they see you in a miniskirt calling yourself a slut?"

again, the final point that's meant to win the argument is that your choices about your body aren't fundamentally your own but Society's, because other people can look at your body and have feelings about it, they may even want to emulate it. for an added bonus, this one doesn't just use viral disease logic, but also borrows heavily and directly from the really basic conservative idea that women are less people and more living mannequins that you can dress up and use to show off the ideals of your social group. you can't wear that, men might see you and think you're a hussy and then it'll be your fault when they harass other women, little girls might see you and copy you like mindless drones.

*obligatory asides that plenty of people can recreationally use substances without being addicted and they're also fine + I know that classifying addiction as a mental illness is a hotly debated topic, especially in antipsych contexts, but that's a whole different can of worms to the topic at hand.

[bethanydelleman]

The more I think about Persuasion, the more I am convinced that Wentworth never should have proposed eight years prior in the first place.

He was broke, unemployed, and staying with his brother. He had no business asking someone to be his wife! It was a rash, impulsive decision and Lady Russell was correct to advise Anne to break off the engagement (even if her motives were suspect). Because Anne should have never said yes either! I guess maybe she would have wanted a long engagement, but her affection overwhelmed her judgement. The best case scenario is that Anne lived at home waiting for Wentworth to return, either married or engaged, but otherwise she’d probably be living in small rented rooms alone in some port city, hoping that Wentworth didn’t die at sea.

We are shown through the novel what could have happened. Admiral Croft and Sohpia had a similar short time of knowing each other and rapid marriage, but he was in already in a position to support her. She speaks fondly of their first home together. Captain Benwick goes through a long engagement and has to suffer through the death of his fiance. Captain Harville is injured and now supporting a wife on disability pay. To be honest, I think Anne and Wentworth would also do well in that situation, but it’s certainly not ideal. But we also have Mrs. Smith, who is the example of what happens when you marry financial insecurity. Wentworth spent freely, Anne doesn’t know if he can save in the future or not. Mr. Smith’s reckless spending made his wife extremely vulnerable upon his death. (and yes, Mr. Elliot influenced Mr. Smith, but people tempting you into more spending will always exist.)

Charles Hayter and Henrietta Musgrove show us the prudent option, one that Wentworth even suggests himself at the end of Persuasion. Hayter has a temporary living, but some good prospects for the future. That would be very similar to Wentworth, “with a few thousand pounds, and was posted into the Laconia”. Charles and Henrietta had to wait, and go through some trials, but their love is strong enough in the end. And we know that Anne was faithful enough to wait!

All of this is to say, the blame is usually focused on Anne for breaking the engagement and Lady Russell for encouraging her to do so. I think more blame needs to be assigned to Wentworth, for proposing to a woman when he could not properly provide for her. His proposal was unfair to her, as was his anger at her rational choice to break it off.

Is this because we have trouble understanding in modern times that Anne cannot work, and even if she did, the wages are far too low to support a family? Wentworth needs to be the provider in the society in which he lives.

(I do still find his resentment very human and natural, but I’ve always had the feeling that Anne said something like, “Not now” and he heard, “Not you.”)

[morally-grey-girlbosses]

Gertrude Robinson art courtesy of @spiralstain.

Propaganda under the cut.

Mapleshade:

Ok I also submitted her to the toxic mothers tourney, so my description here is the exact same thing that I submitted there. THIS IS NOT PLAGIARISM. I AM THE ORIGINAL SUBMITTER. Mapleshade was a cat who died several generations before the main series began. She had kids through an illegal relationship with the man who killed her leader’s son, and she and her very young children were ultimately exiled from their Clan when the truth of their parentage was revealed. Mapleshade tried to take them across the river to their father, and all three kittens were swept away and drowned. Mapleshade then went on a grief-fueled killing spree, driven by hallucinations of her dead children urging her to kill the cats she perceived to be responsible for their deaths. Eventually, she confronted her ex and his pregnant mate (bc oh yeah, it turns out Mapleshade was the Other Woman), and the ex was killed protecting his pregnant mate. Mapleshade also died in this fight, but her hatred was so strong that she basically became a demon in cat hell and declared eternal suffering on her ex’s entire bloodline. Two generations later, the ex’s grandson breaks his jaw as a kitten and is rejected by his mother. Mapleshade swoops in as a maternal figure and promises to make the poor kid into the best warrior he can be, despite his broken jaw being a significant disability. She grooms and manipulates him throughout his entire life, and every person he loves dies horribly, one by one. Whether or not Mapleshade actually caused these deaths is unclear, but she does make Crookedstar (the cat she’s been manipulating) believe that she’s caused them. This is because when Crookedstar was a small, rejected child, she made him promise her that he would always put his Clan first. Being a kid, Crookedstar made the promise without a second thought, not realizing that Mapleshade meant that he could never be close with anyone (since that would mean putting his loved ones before his Clan). Therefore, Crookedstar thinks that every death of his loved ones is a punishment from Mapleshade, his maternal figure, for breaking the promise he made as a kitten.

Gertrude Robinson:

She is the definition of the trolley problem. Sacrificing those who trusted her in order to save the world, only to find out the world would have been safe either way.

Gertrude is a badass old lady who killed many people and many monsters, ate people’s fears and forced information out of them. She manipulated folks into doing what she needed, neglected the health of one of her closest allies, and stopped several apocalyptic rituals. She was only stopped because the guy trying to manipulate her into ending the world shot her in the chest three times. Morally gray queen, rest in violence maam

She once dismembered a guy and dumped him in a sinkhole, destroying an entire town, in order to prevent the end of the world. She's dedicated to preventing various armageddons, and her favorite methods to do so involve plastic explosives.

[humanaaa]

I AM GONNA TALK ABOUT MY BRAZILIANS ISEKAI AU

All the brazilians are murdered, and they are isekai'd!

Cellbit: follows the "you get isekai'd and go to a fantasy world as yourself trope"! He wakes up in the fae kingdom, some chaotic faes put him in jail as a prank, and he is saved by the "chef" of the royal castle, Roier. Roier definitely isnt the fae price pretending to be the chef. Roier really wants to run away from the kingdom, especially as the whole kingdom is under lock down! No faes can get in and no faes can get out! It sucks.Roier also wishes he could see his son again, as he thinks Jaiden found him after Bobby was kidnapped.

When they do run away they make a living of travelling the whole world, selling food and searching for Bobby and Jaiden, it's nice.

Bagi: following the "reborn as a random npc that was supposed to die" trope, she wakes up drowning in a river and discovers she is a noblewoman from the demon kingdom. She pretends her almost death made her lose her memories, and for that she is forced to work in the demon king castle, who says they will help her to get her memories back (lying). She ends up meeting Iron Mouse, who tell her she is the actual Queen of the Demons, but her crown was stolen! Bagi and Mouse start ploting so Mouse can become queen again.

Later, they get help from Tina, a woman who also works in the castle, making tea, but she really wants to be a fashion designer! But the clothes the workers use wear so fucking ugly and she will kill the Demon King with her own hands for forcing her to wear that.

Pac: vaguely following the "Villain Are Destined to Die" plot idea. He is reborn as the villain of the story, wakes up in the pirate kingdom and is saved by a janitor called Fit. When he wakes up, he can't talk: a bunch of options appear on his vision, each saying a different thing for him to do/talk and he must select one of them so he can do something. Later, he discovers he can disable it, and that he and Mike are linked now, and they both banter while Mike tries to find him.

He also sees a heart above everyone's head, showing a percentage, he believes it's how much they like him, this surely wont bring any problems!

Mike: following the "reborn as an animal trope"! He wakes up as a magma cube (and also meets Slime here, they are brothers: were made by the same lab), and can hear Pac's thoughts, they discover they can talk to each other with their minds, and Mike goes through a journey so he can find him. He accidentally meets the Godness of Creation and becames a half human - half magma cube!

Forever: follows the "reborn the Hero of the story" trope! He wakes up and is forced to go to the Island Where Dragons Live, because, apparently, "a dragon is the one bringing all the problems of this world, and the hero must slay it". But. Forever doesnt want to kill a dragon what the fuck.

While trying to find a way out of the island, he finds an dragon egg, who hatches while he was holding it, he names the dragon baby Richarlyson, and he is a father now! But the dragons know he is the hero who is supposed to kill them, now he needs to figure out how dragons work so he can raise his child, find a way out and try to not get killed, fun!

Felps: Following the "Preferential Treatment for The Possessed Person" plot line, he wakes up, he can talk to the god who created this world and the voices who are watching it (you guys :D), he has whole skill thing he can upgrade with money! He can read the story! He can get very op items! But he is mostly making a square, and having fun, the world is supposed to end soon he knows that but, where is the fun in being overpowered :( He also acidentally creates a religion out of himself, oops!

Bonus:

Jaiden:

Following the "reborn as a bird plotline"! If i had a nickel for everytime i read a reincarnation story where the mc is reborn as a bird i would've 4 nickels, what isnt a lot but its curious it happened 4 times. Anyways, she first woke up in the fae kingdom, she and Roier adopt a dragon kid! They name him Bobby, until he was kidnapped one day, she went after him, and the lockdown happened so Roier couldnt leave. She is working with the federation, who says they will help to her to find Bobby!

The last time Roier heard of Jaiden was when he got a letter from her saying he didnt need to search for them because she found Bobby. But she never wrote this letter. Weird! right?

[slippinmickeys]

Three Part Harmony (21/24)

“Is anyone dead back there?” Mulder asked quietly, his blood a thrumming brew of adrenaline and cortisol.

“No,” Scully said, her voice equally low.

Rhonda remained silent, her eyes fixed ahead, and she gripped the steering wheel in white-knuckled tension. The snow was coming down in thick sheets, curling into the windshield with magnetic purpose.

“Their cars aren’t going anywhere and I disabled their radios, but I think we probably have less than half an hour before there’s a statewide APB on all four of us and this vehicle,” Scully said from the back seat.

As Mulder let his breathing start to regulate, he was struggling to know how to feel. Relief and awe and wonder were battling it out, but anger was slowly overtaking his higher functions.

“I told you to stay away,” he said, unable to turn in the cramped little car enough to look at her. It would have been easier to unleash his fury if he could look her in the eye, but he did his level best anyway. “I told Skinner to keep you as far from me as possible! And now-“

“And now we’re in the same situation we were in before,” Scully fired back. “But you’re with us. I need you with us.”

Mulder could hear a slight wobble in her voice and he took a breath, trying to calm himself.

“It’s not the same situation, Scully,” he said, slightly more level headed, but still upset. “You’ve made a criminal out an innocent woman, and-”

“I made a criminal out of myself,” Rhonda finally spoke. “The second I offered you help and refuge. I’m a big girl, and I knew what I was getting myself into. Now if you don’t mind, I’d rather you not argue in my car while I’m playing the old Montana favorite Am I Still On The Road.”

Slightly chagrined, Mulder leaned back and looked ahead. It was nothing but a mass of whiteness. He could not tell either if they were driving on a road or in the middle of a field. There was nothing to see but snow.

“Good,” Rhonda said, eyes never leaving the windshield. “Now thank your wife and son for saving your sorry ass.”

Mulder didn’t correct her, but turned as best he could and reached into the back seat as far as his shackles would allow him. Scully reached forward and gripped his hand hard.

“How’s he doing?” Mulder asked.

Instead of looking at their son, Scully closed her eyes then smiled.

“He’s doing good,” she said. “He’s happy you’re back.”

“Dadadadada!” William shouted, and Mulder teared up, wishing he could pick the boy up and hold him close.

Rhonda and Scully merely chuckled.

“He’s got a few new tricks,” Rhonda said.

“Oh yeah?” said Mulder, reluctantly pulling his hand back from Scully’s to wipe at his eyes.

“Hi!” William squeaked.

Mulder felt the first smile he’d worn in days creep up his face. It fell when he turned to look out the front of the car.

“We’re going to need to get out of this storm,” he said.

“There’s a town in about ten miles. We can get gas, something to eat. Maybe the weather will let up.”

“I think the weather’s the only thing helping us right now.”

“This ensemble certainly isn’t,” Rhonda said, jerking her thumb at him.

“You don’t like my outfit?”

“It’s a touch provocative. Most men in these parts wear a little less jewelry.”

At that, the cuffs and ankle shackles all simultaneously released, falling from Mulder’s limbs in a slither of tinkling metal. He startled and braced his suddenly free hands against the dashboard.

Rhonda pulled her eyes from the road for a moment to look directly at him.

“Scully’s got a few new tricks, too,” she said, and refocused back on the road.

XxX

Rhonda pulled up directly in front of the unisex bathroom door at the gas station, which was blessedly around the side of the building, rather than through the store at the back. Scully had handed Mulder a bundle of clothes and a pair of boots and he’d slid out of the car and into the bathroom without anyone witnessing him doing so.

It was relatively clean, thankfully, heater blowing full force from the ceiling, with a single toilet in the corner, a sink, paper towel dispenser and Koala Kare unit in the wall.

He was redressed, holding onto the orange prison jumpsuit, trying to figure out where he should dispose of it when there was a sharp rap at the door. His heart rate spiked, but Scully’s voice came a moment later on another ratatat of knocking.

“Mulder, open up. Let us in.”

He unlocked the door and threw it open only for Scully to push immediately inside, holding William out in front of her like a sacrifice, the bloom of a brown stain blossoming halfway up his back.

“Oh shit,” Mulder said, drawing a look from Scully.

“You noticed,” she said and stared at him until he roused himself into action and pulled down the changing station shelf.

Scully laid down the small blanket she had slung over her arm and plopped William down on it unceremoniously.

“Can you get him undressed?” she asked, swinging a bag off her shoulder. She began digging through it, setting several things down on the table near William’s head; a pack of baby wipes, a clean diaper.

“Mulder,” she said, looking up at him.

“Right!”

Mulder leapt into action, unzipping the felted footy pajamas the baby was dressed in and peeling them off. What he found underneath was a crime scene. Smelled like one, too.

He swore.

William seemed delighted, clapping and babbling and making himself a generally wiggly nuisance while Mulder tried to get the soiled diaper off of him. Finally, one hand full of the utterly destroyed pajamas and the other holding the biohazard of a diaper, Mulder looked at Scully somewhat desperately.

“Can you take over?”

She nodded with a look he thought might have been a smirk and stepped in, wiping and cleaning their son with far more efficiency and composure.

Mulder took the opportunity to shove the prison jumpsuit into the trash can and placed the filthy footies and diaper directly on top, pulling the whole of the bag lining the can to take with them. He wouldn’t put it past Bryson to dumpster dive through excrement for a chance to get at William.

When he turned back to them after washing his hands, Scully was holding out his son to him, clean and fresh-smelling and smiling, and Mulder took him into his arms with such a rush of relief and longing that it felt like his heart might drop out of his chest.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When the little family was settled back into the car, Rhonda turned to them, feeling uneasy, but resolute.

“You’ve been doing this longer than I have,” she said. “Being on the run. What do we do?”

Mulder turned to look out the windshield. The snow had let up, and hadn’t accumulated as much as it might have without the wind. There were drifts that were a couple feet high, but bare spots on the ground, and the roads had mainly been blown clear.

“We need to stay off major highways,” he said. “Find somewhere to hunker down.”

Scully sighed. “That’s easier said than done with a baby in tow.”

“Yes,” Mulder admitted. “But Rhonda’s cabin is out and we’ll need to hide the car. Bryson’s seen it, and her. Couple of hotel rooms would be great, but I don’t think we can risk it. We need somewhere with plumbing. Heat. Supplies.” He turned to Rhonda. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. I’m sorry we ever set foot in your diner. That your lot has been thrown in with ours.”

“I’m not,” Rhonda said, finding herself truly meaning it. “You’ve given me a purpose. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m doing something that helps. That matters.” The resolve with which she said the words shored up her bones, made her sit up taller. For the first time in her life, she felt a fire burning in her belly.

“I’m with you,” she said. “And we’re in slightly better shape than you think.”

When Mulder looked at her curiously, Scully piped up from the back seat. “The trunk is full of everything we might need,” she said. When Mulder turned to look at her, Scully shrugged. “Didn’t want to get stuck again.”

Rhonda considered the other things Mulder had said, the wheels turning in her head. Finally, she looked at them both.

“We need a few extra gallons of gas, just in case,” she said. “But I know where we can go.”

XxX

The sign by the road was studded with snow, but you could still make out the name it boasted, ‘Camp Waawaate’ with the old picture of a canoe, ‘established 1938.’

“It’s a summer camp,” Rhonda explained as she pulled to a stop in front of the gate, looking at the sign fondly. “I went here as a kid. Worked here for a while, too.” Some of the best times of her life had been spent here, swimming in the mountain lake, singing songs in the cafeteria and by a campfire. It certainly looked different in the snow. “It’s miles and miles from anything resembling civilization and closed up tight for winter. You can’t see anything from the road. We should be safe here.”

She sighed, remembering the good times, and threw the car in park. She turned to look at Scully. “The gate’ll be locked. I could use your help.”

Scully avoided looking at Mulder and nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt. Mulder had to get out to let her out of the backseat of the hatchback, but wandered behind her curiously and watched as she walked up to the swinging gate, peered at it for a moment. The padlock seemed to unlatch of its own accord. Mulder looked at her as though she’d employed a Jedi Mind Trick to unlock it.

Scully shot Mulder a self-conscious look and then he offered to stay outside the car and lock the gate shut behind them. She swung back into the backseat next to her son as Rhonda popped the old car back into gear.

“Gonna be a bit of an awkward conversation explaining all that, huh?” she asked the younger woman.

“We’ve had awkward conversations before,” Scully said, looking out the window. “I’m just…”

Rhonda could read beyond the ellipses of her abandoned comment. The woman was so glad to have her lover back beside her that the words to describe her relief wouldn’t come. Rhonda smiled kindly at her as she pressed the accelerator to nudge the car through the gateway of the camp. It was humbling to be a part of a love story like theirs. They were not the first to love as deeply as they did, Rhonda knew, nor were they the most tragic, but something about their romance felt like a storybook, like an author was writing them with a pen and was as yet not sure how the story would end.

Rhonda could only hope it would be happy.

Mulder swung the gate shut behind them, re-securing the padlock, and jumped back in the car, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

“This place going to have power?” he asked, blowing into cold fists. “Is it going to have heat?”

The drifts across the drive were bigger here than they had been on the road, and Rhonda had to build up some momentum to get through them.

“Power up here is unreliable,” she said, concentrating on driving the serpentine, tree-lined two-track. “They have generators.”

“And heat?” Mulder asked again.

“It’s a summer camp, but it’s in the mountains. Each of the cabins has a fireplace. As does the main lodge and cafeteria. Should keep us warm enough.”

Mulder nodded from beside her. Beggars and choosers and all that, thought Rhonda.

Through an aspen grove and into the scrubby cedar swamp by the lake they drove, until the driveway widened out as they hit the main campus. To their right was a small hut on the lake that Rhonda knew housed paddles and life jackets, canoes pulled up high along the shore, clumped together upside down like fallen soldiers after a battle. To the left was a rectangle of pavement with a basketball hoop on one side, the other stretching out into low wooden bleachers that surrounded an enormous fire pit.

Beyond the court, up the small rise of a hill, perched an enormous timber frame lodge that overlooked the lake, which sat gray and wind-dimpled, uninviting and cold.

“We can start at the lodge,” Rhonda said, pointing to the main building. “It has an enormous fireplace and a genny that runs the kitchen equipment.”

“Think we can get it going?”Mulder asked.

Rhonda knew there was an enormous oil drum by the maintenance building that was full of the gas that kept the generator running all summer, but she wasn’t certain how often they topped it off as autumn approached, and pointed to one of the gas cans at Mulder’s feet.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” she said.

“Are there places to sleep in the lodge?” Scully asked.

“Just kitchens and the cafeteria, a couple of small administrative offices,” Rhonda said, shaking her head. She pulled up to the back of the large building and killed the engine.

“Beyond the lodge are the campers cabins,” she went on, explaining the camp’s layout. “Boys to the east and girls to the west. Genny powered bathrooms at the end of each. The cabins have fireplaces and are small and retain heat pretty well. Beds a-plenty. I can get the generator up and running at the lodge and one of the bathrooms. There’s an enormous firewood cache behind the building if you want to get started there.”

Mulder nodded at her.

“Pick a cabin, any cabin,” Rhonda said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “And if you’d like some privacy, you can put me in the next one down.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

The inside of the lodge was all exposed beams and wood accents, built at a time when the trees grew bigger. The main room was wide and expansive, with a high ceiling that ended in a peak and huge fireplace faced with raw granite, the masonry old but sturdy. The tables that filled the space in the summer had been pushed to the sides of the hall, and the chairs stacked neatly next to them. An old piano sat in the corner next to an empty plastic Lost & Found bin. On the walls were pictures of campers from decades worth of summers; swimming, canoeing, arms around each other at a fire, one or two gap-toothed archers holding up the rare bullseye. Scully could hear it the moment Rhonda got the big generator going. There were big bay windows that faced the lake letting in the gray light of the day, but Scully flicked on the lights anyway, flooding the dusty space with yellow light.

William had fallen asleep in his car seat, and Mulder set him gently down.

“I think she said the firewood is around back?” Mulder said, pointing at a side door near the fireplace.

Scully nodded and drifted over to the door.

The entire camp had been secured tightly for winter, but locks were no longer really a problem. All Scully had to do was connect with William–something she could now do even when he was asleep–picture the pins and tumblers inside the mechanism, and think them into place. It was a handy gift, though one that would produce some parenting challenges as William got older should the boy figure out how to do it himself. Should they manage to get out of this alive.

She opened the door, and Mulder followed her out into the cold.

Rhonda had been right; all along the side of the building were shoulder-high stacks of seasoned firewood three or four sections deep. More than enough to keep them warm for however long they needed to hide out here.

“What do you think?” Mulder said, coming up alongside her. She could feel the warmth emanating from his body, but had only really touched him in the car when he’d reached out for her. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself at him in relief, to wrap her arms around his solid middle and tuck her head under his chin. To have him tell her that it would all be all right, that she had done the right thing. But they had things to do, and needed to be getting along doing them.

“Get a fire going in the lodge and then pick out a couple of cabins?” he went on.

Scully thought of William sleeping in the big cold room behind them.

“Yes,” she said. “Bring in as much as you can and I’ll get a fire going.”

Figuring out how to open the flue to the enormous fireplace was the biggest challenge, but once she’d maneuvered it open, it wasn’t long before they had a roaring fire going.

Rhonda walked in just as Mulder was stacking the last of a half-cord of wood next to the hearth. She looked down fondly at William.

“I’ll stay with him and get the supplies brought in from the car,” she offered. “If you two want to figure out where we’ll all sleep?”

Scully nodded at her gratefully. Mulder came up behind her then and put a heavy hand on her shoulder, which sparked such a flood of feeling within her that William–still connected to her–shifted in his sleep. Scully watched as the older woman knelt down and tucked the edge of the blanket more firmly around the child. Rhonda then looked up and gave them a small smile.

“Take your time,” she said quietly, and Scully could have wept.

XxXxXxXxXxX

There was a way they looked at each other, a way they locked eyes, that was unlike anything Rhonda had witnessed before. It felt, at times, a little bit like a blessing to witness, and a little bit like a curse. She thought of the romance novels she liked to read so much, of the inevitable pull the main characters felt for each other, the way they would stop at nothing to be together. How odd to see the real thing.

Rhonda wondered what it was about them that invited such suffering, such bliss. What was it about them that made even God turn away?

Mulder took Scully’s hand as they walked out of the lodge, both sparing one last look at their son. Rhonda would give them time together, whatever peace she could for as long as they needed. There was a reverence between them that needed to be honored, a fire that was in want of rekindling.

Rhonda could still see the camp cabins in her mind's eye, unchanged since her childhood. She closed her eyes and looked down on them as if from above, saw Mulder and Scully, those poor tragic lovers. She wanted to heal them or at the very least give them an opportunity to heal themselves. Under the fleece of evergreens, they would step into the small cabin and embrace. Rhonda envied them their reconnection. Envied them their love. She wanted nothing more than to foster it, to take them up like plastic dolls, lift them out and press them tightly together with the palms of both her hands.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Here's the downlow on the 'You can't be punk if you have [interest here]!!!' and 'You're gatekeeping punk by saying i can't like [same thing] and be a part of it!!!' discourse:There are many ways to be punk.There are many things that can make you inherently NOT punk unless you change them about yourself.I'm gonna use myself as an example so you can understand what i mean with specifics:

I'm afrolatina.I'm extremely feminine,pastel,super goofy and i wear skirts and stockings and sweaters and do my makeup in 2000s styles.I'm autistic and some of my special interests are kidcore and the indie genre,including listening to stereotypical transmasc/nonbinary bands like The Front Bottoms and being fandoms like Adventure Time and MLP.I haven't been able to go to protests or deface public property yet because my current living situation would put my life at risk if i did.None of this makes me punk nor disqualifies me from it

I've read a lot of punk history and will continue until i literally can't find stuff i haven't.I'm a socialist.I'm learning to diy.I listen to punk music.Because of all the restaurant chain boycotts that have been going on,i've stopped buying from the ones i used to go to and looked up recipes on how to make their foods so i can still eat them but not give them support and similarly,i've decided to buy all my merch from media i like either secondhand or much preferably fanmade so i can support small artists with a focus on ones of color and trans and disabled ones.I save up spare money and have lied to my relatives to get them to give me more so i can donate to causes.I spread awareness about people in need so others can help them too.I do my best to be as respectful as possible in a humanizing way to minorities i'm not a part of and have erased my conservative family's teachings

I plan to get piercings,a battle jacket from a thrift store and load it with patches i made and pins bought from punk bussinesses and my current style is inherently gnc by virtue of me being both a man and a woman and i'm gonna present pastel punk specifically and that'll make it even moreso.I'm a firm believer in rights for all minorities with children being one of the main one's because i'm an eldest sibling and that made it so i ended up befriending a lot younger people enough that we consider eachother siblings too and a few of them even call me their parent because their actual ones are abusive and that's what made me go so hard for children's rights to begin with,especially since in almost all their cases it was motivated by them queer or neurodivergent or so forth,and a few of them have gone punk too because i inspired them to.This makes me punk and the first part dosen't invalidate that in any way,it's just another part of who i am because i'm a human person and therefore multifaced

And that's just the thing-Hobbies and tastes and most styles aren't inherently punk.There's tons,TONS of punk subgenres for a reason.Yes,they're are ones that make it so you can't be punk and yes,there's also ones that would you make a dumbass if you said they're the same as that.Punk has rules.You can be punk and be edgy,femme,indie and everything inbetween.You CAN'T be punk if you don't actually have our ideologies and do our cultural requirements because punk is not a universal heritage.You're not unpunk for not living up to the most popular imagine of us even though you have the personality and fufill the actions.You're unpunk if you prioritize fitting in over being kind and don't help out minorities to prioritize oppressors even though they're the ones you're supposedly fighting for and cry 'cencorship and purity culture' when people think you're gross for having age/raceplay and incest and noncon kinks and sexualizing minors even if they're not 'real' or it's 'just pretend' when there's actual harmful cencorship and when purity culture is about christians historical abuse of young women using their sexualities against them to cater to men.Los Punkeros son asunto serio,no mamen

[hiddenobject-fanblog]

His Soul (Chapter 10)

Show and Tell

Summary: After saving the abducted collectors, you were trusted with Curioso's box. What seems like a dangerous possession slowly turns into an opportunity to learn more about this creature and his curse. Can you earn his trust, and possibly, his affection?

Pairings: Curioso/Reader, Curioso/The Detective

--

It took a bit of searching on your end, but you finally tracked down a translator who was able to make any sense of the book. You had reached out to several other people for a week, all of whom sadly informed you that they couldn’t understand it. Still, you remained determined and you were glad your patience finally wore off.

You were sitting in a small office across from a woman who wore a blue suit. Her eyes were wide as she read the book that you left open on her desk. You were still dumbfounded with the news she’d just given to you. 

“You can really read that thing? I haven’t met a single person who could.”

She nodded and leaned back in her seat. “You see, Detective, I used to delve into magic - divination back in my day. This book was written by an enchantress. I recognize the spell that is decrypting it from normal eyes.”

“Huh…” Your mind went back to the time Curioso disabled a concealing spell on that house in your last case. Had he done the same thing to this book to make sure Andrew couldn’t read it? “Are you sure it was an enchantress? Not a…creature of some sorts?”

“Her name is written right here. I can translate this for you, but I’m afraid it will take some time.”

“That’s fine; I’m in no hurry.” You waved your hand. “Just…do you know what it is?”

“Instructions, I think,” She rubbed her chin as she observed the pages. “But what they say and what they are for…I will have to get back to you on that.”

“Great. Just call me on the phone when you make any progress - I’ll pay you in advance.”

She stopped you when you stood from your chair, her eyes lit up in fascination. “I am curious, where did you get this book? I have never seen anything like it.”

“....A friend of mine gave it to me. I’d like to know what it says.” 

“Very well. Expect to hear back from me in a few days…thank you for such an interesting job. I will have fun translating this.”

You stood and dusted off your pants, relieved to have finally found someone for the job. You were antsy to know what this book contained…if she was right, then they could possibly be instructions for Curioso’s box. You desperately needed that, as you couldn’t keep relying on him for its codes and instructions. He lied to you about that before and you were sure he would do it again if it benefited him. 

You handed over some cash and shook her hand, already wishing time would move forward. 

-----

You returned to your office and sat down in your chair. If Curioso sensed that you had the book before, then he must know it was out of your possession now. When you looked up, you found his box lighting up from your shelf. A sign of his presence.

Before he could say a word, you beat him to it. “I don’t have it. Are you happy?”

“Did you destroy it?” 

“No. Just…loaned it to someone. I’ll get it back, but I still don’t know what it is.”

Mist pooled out and you found the projection of his mask greeting you from across the room. He tilted his head. “Who did you give it to?”

“A magician,” You spread your hands out theatrically. 

You thought he might take it as a joke, but that didn’t happen. “You’re smarter than you look, Detective.”

You narrowed your eyes with skepticism. “You still don’t want to tell me what it is? Even if I don’t have it with me anymore?”

“You should have gotten rid of it, that’s all I’m telling you.”

You paused. Something just occurred to you that you should’ve thought about before. “Just a silly question here, but…it’s not going to kill me, right? Or bring a sudden end to the world?”

“Only an end to mine.”

You jumped out of your seat. “It’ll kill you!?”

Curioso laughed really hard. It made you feel ridiculous as you slid back down into your seat. Your face was as red as a tomato for overreacting the way you did. 

“How kind of you to care about me..! But, no. That won’t happen. I’m sorry.” 

You groaned and tried to hide your face. “Believe it or not, I actually WANT you here. Otherwise, I would’ve given you right back to Andrew.” 

“Yes, that’s right. You want me here as part of your things …your collection. Your memories.” 

“No, I-” You were getting flustered over this and you didn’t know why. “I want to get to know you. Isn’t it obvious that’s what I’ve been doing?” 

“You don’t need a book for that. You can ask me all your questions, Detective. I don’t really have anywhere else to go.” 

Your face was still hot and your heart wouldn’t calm down. Something about this conversation was embarrassing you. You grabbed a piece of paper from your drawer and took a deep breath before walking over to Curioso’s box. You held it up and prepared to enter the correct pattern, then you hesitated.

“Do you…want to come out? I mean, if you’re not still mad at me?” Your voice was timid. 

“I always want a breath of fresh air.”

You gave a wryly grin. “You wanna’ watch me do paperwork? Do all the boring detective stuff?” 

“Please. The anticipation is killing me..!”

You chuckled and let him out of the box. The same bright flash ensued and he was standing before you again. You rubbed your eyes as you stumbled back over to your desk. It felt like getting your picture taken with the flash on. You wondered if there could ever be a way to change that. 

“Take a seat anywhere, you can explore my office. Just don’t touch anything.” 

You sat down and grabbed a pencil, preparing to do some work. To your surprise, Curioso didn’t stray very far and instead perched himself on the edge of your desk. He really wasn’t in the way of anything, but his close presence made you nervous. His set of sharp teeth was closer to you than you were comfortable with. 

“There’s another chair right over there,” You pointed across from your desk.

“Ah, but this is annoying you, isn’t it? He grinned. 

“It is, actually. Yeah.” 

“Then I’m not going to move anywhere.”

“Fine."

You began filling out paperwork in spite of his close proximity. You pretended he wasn’t there and you were just doing some work as usual. You were actually able to get a bit done. You paused to stretch your arms and crack your back, suddenly remembering Curioso was right beside you when you accidentally smacked your elbow on him. 

“Whoops - sorry…” 

“I like your name,” He whispered.

You blinked twice before glancing back at the paperwork and found your first and last name signed on the sheet before you. You hadn’t thought he was seriously paying attention to what you were doing. Who in their right mind would willingly watch someone fill out boring papers instead of looking at pictures of your heroic cases? Curioso, apparently. 

“Ah, thank you,” You grew warm again and cleared your throat to change the subject. “So I can ask you questions, right?”

His voice was dramatic. “I guess you can.” 

“Apparently, that book was written by a woman. Do you know who she is?” 

“...” 

“Her name is in there. I’ll be able to find it soon. Is she someone I should get into contact with?”

“NO!” He exclaimed loudly into your ear. 

You flinched and nearly stumbled out of your chair. He noticed your state and withdrew into himself, moving away from your desk and into the seat across from you. He was deliberately trying not to face you.

“Alright, geez.” You rubbed your ear in pain. “So, she’s nobody I should know, apparently?”

“Detective.” His voice cracked. Your heart broke at the sound. “Don’t dig any deeper than you already are. You’re keeping that book despite my wishes - please listen to me and never find that woman.” 

It felt like you lost all your strength. “Okay…I won’t. I promise.” You waited a second before adding, “Can you at least tell me who she is? Why is she so bad?” 

“Patience is a virtue.” He tapped a robotic finger on the edge of the wood. 

You wanted to groan and throw a fit, but now wasn’t the time. He sounded like he was on the verge of crying. You didn’t know if that was possible or not, but you didn’t care to test it. Your eyes traveled down Curioso and you realized you’d never gotten such a good look at him up close. Observing him for too long hadn’t been your goal back at Andrew Collins’ house. You’d been too preoccupied worrying about him getting into anything to really study him before. 

He wore a blue-and-red jester costume, but it was torn in places and had many holes in its fabric. It was also dirty, like it’d been through hell and back. His top hat was in a similar condition, torn at the ends with its colors dull. When you looked at his hand, you found holes, scrapes, and cuts on his mechanical digits and palms. Even his mask, when he turned to look at you, was damaged and missing pieces of its decoration. 

You never noticed how… rough he looked. Like he was something someone had left outside and forgotten about for years - equally as damaged from the weather as he was from the neglect of his owner. Pity swelled in your throat. 

“Are you alright?” The jester queried. 

“I remember you looking a little different,” You confessed. Something was off about him…he was missing those little hats on top of his big one, and you swore he was more colorful before. “Did something happen?” 

“This is how I’ve always looked.” 

“But..” You leaned forward and squinted your eyes. You probably looked ridiculous doing this. You didn’t care. “Your mask isn’t supposed to look like that, is it? Your hands…they’re all damaged. Did…did something hurt you?”

He promptly moved his limbs out of your view. “Just wear-and-tear. I’ve been around for a long time.” 

“When we were in your box-” You pointed at him, the memories flooding back to you. “You looked perfect. Your mask was glittery, your clothes were bright, everything was fine…what happened?”

“I can bend anything to my will there. Anything I want.” His voice grew quiet. “Even myself.”

“You mean you made yourself look like that?” 

“Do you ever want to relive your glory days?” He threw his head back and grinned widely at you. His teeth still remained pearly white and as sharp as always. The only part of him unchanged and intact. “That’s how I used to look. I’m sure you remember a time when you were young and full of energy…” 

You shook your head and sat back down to give him some space. “Alright. I don’t know anything about your kind. But I’m going to assume that’s normal unless you tell me otherwise.” 

“Completely normal.” He insisted. “If you had to wear the same clothes everyday, you’d look just like me after a while.” 

“I don’t have holes in my face or my hands,” You pointed out. 

Curioso slouched in his seat. He clearly wasn’t happy that you were pressing this as much as you were. “They’re artificial. It’s not me. Not really.” 

“What do you mean..?” Why was it always a guessing game with him? Why couldn’t he explain anything to you? “Curioso, I don’t really understand what you are. Can’t you just tell me?” 

“I wish I could, but even I don’t know what I am.” 

“I still don’t understand…”

“What is there to know? I’m a jester in a box. I like collecting human souls and exposing their dark secrets. That’s all there is.”

“I don't think that’s the case. What were you at the carnival?” 

You could’ve sworn his smile grew smaller. He must’ve thought you’d forgotten about that detail, but you didn’t. He confirmed himself that what Andrew said was true. If you couldn’t find out WHAT he was, then you could at least learn where he came from. 

“I was a jester,” He responded. “Telling jokes, making fun, you name it.” 

That , you could believe. But it felt like he was only telling a half-truth. “Really? With all your powers, you only told jokes?” 

“They were good ones..!” 

“Tell me one.”

“ ‘Why don’t cannibals eat clowns? Because they taste funny !’”

“Yeah, there’s no way you were telling that to kids.”

“Maybe I didn’t perform for kids..?”

Now you are getting concerned. “Curioso-”

“-Honest, Detective! I was an entertainer at the circus. For both adults and kids! They loved my show, I’d been doing it for a long time.”

You went quiet as you tapped your pencil on your desk. You were neglecting your paperwork now, but you were far more invested in learning about your friend. Not many people could say they've held conversations like this one. 

“Did you like it?”

He sounded strained. “Of course.”

“Then why did you come out of your box angry? Why did you threaten Andrew? If you loved what you did, why did you want revenge-”

He did something you did not expect - which was to learn towards you, pinch your cheek in between two white fingers, and pull a little too hard.

“You’re so nosy.” He hissed. “Must you know EVERYTHING?”

“Ow!” You swatted his hand off and rubbed the red spot left on your skin. “You said it yourself - I’m a detective. It’s in my job description.”

“Hmm. And you’re putting together the mystery of my past ?” You swore you saw a small flame flicker in his mask’s eye socket. You blinked twice and it was gone.

“If you’re going to make it this much of a challenge, then I might as well.”

He tittered. “You’re so fun. That’s why I like you.” You blushed at his words and scolded yourself for feeling so flattered. “I suppose I can help you solve it, but…you may find things that you don’t like. Are you okay with that?”

“I found a room full of bodies in my last case.” You shuddered at the image left in your mind. “I’m sure that whatever it is, I can handle it.”

He hummed, looking at you for an awfully long time. Then, he said, “I’ll tell you when I feel that you’re ready.”

You wondered when that was going to be.

[dimonds456]

Howdy!

I'm Dimonds456, and welcome to my garbage pile. I'm a bat who stays up way too late and cannot decide whether or not to be productive. I draw, write, animate, play/write music, and I'm also insane so watch out for that.

I'm neurodivergent, disabled, queer, white, a singlet, fictionkin, and a proud cat papa. I am a cartoon character who is way too bouncy for their own good lol.

They / he / xe!

This is my main blog, but my ADHD ass also has a bunch more.

@dimonds456-art - my art blog! Almost all art gets rbed there!

@dimonds456-but-only-hlvrai - my HLVRAI sideblog! Because yeah why not. This is one of me current hyperfixations lol it's bad

@rubberhose-roy is my sideblog used to gush about 1920's-40's aesthetics, music, culture, ect., as well as an animation blog! All my animations specifically will be reblogged there, as well as any animation rambles or gushes I do.

I have more but those are the main three.

My fandom-specific blogs are:

@dimonds456-but-only-hlvrai (again)

@hlvrai-stuck-together - HLVRAI AU I run!

@halfnautica - Half Life / Subnautica AU!

@a-second-chance-su-au - Old SU AU that has been discontinued, but the blog is still there!

@batim-rewritten - a Bendy and the Ink Machine rewrite I'm working on

@cuphead-contract-au - A Cuphead AU where Mugman makes a deal (discontinued)

And, I have my own OC story, Follychromatic! I reblog all that stuff here, but its main blog is here!

@follychromatic

To see pictures of my cat, check the #Checkers tag! :D

Okay great. Now, DNI, trigger warnings, disabilities, special interests, and more below the cut. Make sure you read at least once, k? Thanks.

Welcome to my cave!

DNI

Trigger Warnings

Do not FUCKING interact if you are:

- A proshipper

- A bigot

- An LGBTphobe / transmed / ect

- Trump supporter

- Nazi / fascist / conservative

- Weird about furries or furry art

- Weird about fandom headcanons (specifically trans woman headcanons)

I will add more if anyone wants me to, or we can come up with a custom tag, like what I do for one of my friends! (#dimond don't look)

I will tag as much as I can, and if you want me to tag something specific, let me know! But as a general blog cover, things that appear on this blog often are:

- Current events

- Talk of / discussion of sexuality (sometimes boardering on NSFW but not usually)

- Blood

- Guns

- Flashing

- Talk of proshippers (I try to be respectful but also I don't stand for them and I don't support them. I block and move on, and try to explain why proship is bad, but eh. I've only been listened to like once lol)

- Swearing / swear words

- All caps

- Bugs

- Suggestive content / NSFW (RARE DONT WORRY)

DISABILITIES

Hiiii I'm disabled! Both mentally and physically. I talk about being disabled a lot and try to generate positive talk about it. I also vent about it. I've had quite a few of these, and I also try to reblog as much about others I don't have as I can to increase awareness and understanding. So yeah! These are just the ones I have, but they are not the only ones that appear on my blog!

Hyperthyroidism

Graves Disease

Graves Eye Disease

Astigmatism

Athsma

Audio processing disorder

ADHD

Autism

Trauma / PTSD

Brain fog / disassociation / memory loss

Anxiety

Depression

Cane user

Weak / trembling limbs / trouble walking / trouble holding onto things sometimes

More to be added lol.

This is also a meds/treatment positive blog, a self-diagnosis positive blog, and my general attitude is just "if you think something is wrong you're probably right, you know yourself the best, even if you don't know what exactly is wrong." This attitude has saved my life and other people I know. You don't need a diagnosis or medication to be disabled.

THIS IS A SAFE SPACE.

If you are Jewish, black, brown, Muslim, indigenous, any religion, any race, any sexuality, any weird gender, anything at all- I love and support you. I'm still learning, and I try to learn as much as I can, but I'm not perfect. If I say something offensive or something adjacent, it was NOT on purpose. PLEASE, PLEASE tell me what I said wrong. I will make an effort to improve in the future.

I directly support:

- All races

- All religions*

- All sexualities (except pedos, y'all aren't LGBT, I'm sorry. You're actively hurting children. I've seen it again and again. Stop.)

- All genders and pronouns

- All "weird" identities outside of that as well (I'm fictionkin myself)

- Protests and protesters

- Neurodivergent people of all types (and yes, this means NPD, schizo, and all those other types that are often seen as bad or evil. I love you, I see you, and I support you.)

- DID & OSDD systems

If I have reblogged or said anything that aligns with the bottom list, that was a mistake. PLEASE let me know and I will fix it as fast as I can. You reading this right now, I love you. I hope my blog can help you feel welcomed and like you have somewhere to go if you need it. /gen

I DO NOT support:

- Antisemitism

- Genocide

- Cults (*stuff like Jehova's Witnesses. I support the members, as they are victims, but I actively dislike the people on top who perpetuate the cycle. Not just JWs, but those are the big ones who come to mind. Hearts out to all the victims, I hope everyone gets to a better place soon)

- Racism in any way, shape, or form

- Religious discrimination of any way, shape, or form

- Israel specifically

- Trump, conservatives, Nazis, ect.

- Endo systems

MY FANDOMS / INTERESTS

I HAVE ADHD AND AUTISM AND I'M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE'S PROBLEM /silly

The current special interests are HLVRAI and Half Life, current hyperfixations are Half Life and Poppy Playtime.

SPECIAL INTERESTS:

- Minecraft

- HTTYD

- FNaF

- Undertale / Deltarune

- BATIM / BATDR (unfortunately)

- Subnautica

- Biology

- Steven Universe

- Cuphead

- 2D Animation

- Writing

- HLVRAI

- Half Life

theres more but my brain is an egg :/

HYPERFIXATIONS (interests but not the special ones):

- Little Nightmares

- Hello, Neighbor (unfortunately)

- Petscop

- Portal

- Freemanverse (HELP ME)

- The Amazing Digital Circus

- The Owl House

- Gravity Falls

- Monster High (very first from what I can remember! I remember nothing though! But it's there!)

- Poppy Playtime

- Half Life

- Wild Kratts (I didn't even know there WAS a fandom until very recently, hi guys)

When it comes to ✨me,✨ I have a couple of original works as well! Specifically, Follychromatic! I won't get too into it here (bc shy) but it's 2D animation, rubberhose animation, magic, character-driven, action/adventure, mystery- yeah!

Outside of fandom, though, my special interests are biology, 2D animation, and writing. I am an animator and I suffer for fun.

YOU MADE IT! Have some Checkers for your time! :)