#but need to keep up the appearances of hating each other bc god forbid they admit to being kind of friends. that would be fun. to me<3

[misspickman]

cassierose for the ship ask game !!

Ship It

What made you ship it? i liked them in tt03, which you know, is truly a feat considering how terribly that comic treats both of them. but their dynamic (angry homoeroticism) managed to be compelling still

What are your favorite things about the ship? i enjoy girl antagonism from time to time. i know were all sick of the trope that teen girls all hate each others guts but considering cassie has a pretty good relationship with all the other girls on her team(s) its fun to see her just go ugh i hate this one. this one can go. theyre just fun and bitchy and i think they should hatefuck about it. but beside that theres also so much potential there ! i think you know, if anyone writing that comic actually cared about cassie or rose or about their character development, it would have been interesting to see their relationship change over time instead of getting one issue where cassie implicitly calls rose family while protecting her, and then the next one she immediately she calls her a manipulative psychopath for no good reason bc they cant figure out how to make the team interesting without having some wildly antagonistic relationship that doesnt make sense if u think about it for a few seconds. theyre never going to be besties but it would have been nice to see them go from blind hate to an uneasy truce; they dont like each other but they do, unfortunately, care about each other, and lets see where we go from that. + itd be interesting to dig into cassies hypocrisy when it comes to hating rose

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? i guess its that i would like them to grow past mindlessly despising each other ? this is not me criticizing anyone but i feel like a lot of takes on cassierose ive seen are that they should stay in the hatefucking no mushy business❌❌❌phase which is definitely fair and true to how they are in tt03. but i do have some issues with the way they were written in tt03 (particularly cassie) and would like to see their dynamic progress from that (see rant above)

[initiumseries]

CAOS Part 3 - review

Uh, okay, so I think by now, we all know this show is terrible. Netflix gives showrunners a lot of creative freedom, and I think, for better writers, you could get some really interesting content, but they just seem to keep giving these assholes who wrote the travesty called Riverdale, so many opportunities to make more shitty television, and I feel like they really deserve to be limited in their ability to create/write if not stopped completely and thrown into a well with Julie Plec.  Anyway, I’ll try to break this down as best as I can into different piles of shit and this will contain spoilers:

Characters

Prudence and Ambrose

So, to be really honest, I watch this show exclusively for Prudence and Ambrose. Because, well, look at them: 

I wish they had more chemistry because they are super hot together, and I still ship it. A young Black couple? On TV? In this sea of shitty interracial relationships? I’ll take it. Anyway, of course, the progression of their relationship is ridiculous and frustrating. Ambrose decides at the last minute, not to kill Father Blackwood because he has a weird time egg thing that they don’t really understand, also he has the twins under some weird mind control for no clear reason, so they stay their hands. It doesn’t make sense, but it becomes clear, Father Blackwood has an insane amount of plot armour and ultimately would have to serve as a vessel for Satan. Father Blackwood uses the manipulated mind of the other weird sister to sic her on the coven, and she ends up killing Dorkus, whom Prudence finds. She then blames Ambrose for not allowing her to kill FB, and they break up. Now...this would kinda make sense, if not for the fact that they trapped one of the pagan witches and forced her to change everyone back, but no one bothered to do anything about the mentally ill witch who you all strapped up for a reason? Lol ok. Seems like an oversight on your part Prudence, but...okay. Clearly manufactured breakups are exhausting, especially since [young] Black couples with no serious relationship dysfunction are now an endangered species. It’s also frustrating because we barely got to see them....*be* together, especially after they returned home. 

Nick & Sabrina

So, I know from the beginning, we were supposed to believe that Nick and Sabrina had that kind of, Bad Guy, seduces the girl Good Girl, luring her into the dark side, hot, intense, passionate relationship. But their lack of chemistry and really shitty acting just made them really dry (which I get into here). I don’t believe them, and I definitely don’t believe that Sabrina would, once again, break a shit ton of rules to get Nick back. I just don’t buy that they had that kind of an intense, desperately in love, kind relationship, because they do not look all that comfortable around each other, much less in love. 

I personally find Sabrina utterly unlikeable as a main character, largely because who IS she? She has no personality, she just does whatever the plot needs her to do in the moment, and the actress makes Sabrina appear smug and unremorseful while she fucks up everyone’s lives. There is a lot of exposition of everyone telling us she’s this power hungry, manipulative character, but we never see that. She just does stuff and everyone is all “Sabrina how could you?!” and there are never, ever any consequences. I would have liked to see her push so hard to get Nick back and the struggle being, sure she wants him back, but mostly she’s doing it because she can. But that’s not what happens. 

So Nick ends up in this weird drug addiction, alcohol, sex demon spiral because he has parts of Satan still in him and it all just falls so flat and lame, because this show is SO bad at pacing, and these actors suck, so nothing is believable. The idea of him scrubbing his club foot, having nightmares, suffering PTSD, is fine, the execution was trash. Nick sees Caliban and Sabrina have one interaction and he’s like WELL, GUESS I GOTTA CHEAT. And just ends up in some S&M situation with sex demons and heavily self medicating, but none of this has any weight, and we don’t really see him...spiralling. He just immediately resorts to these things and it has no real impact on anyone or even him really, and that’s it. 

Harvey and Roz

Uh, they’re probably the most confusing match here, because there is no lead up to their relationship, there’s not suggestion, there’s no pacing. Just BOOM, we’re into each other now. BOOM, Roz is the only sexually active person in her friend group (lol of course the Black girl is sexually active. Gotta maintain white innocence at all costs), so she’s just ready to jump Harvey’s bones any second now. So of course, the show punishes her by having the pagans turn her to stone. And as if that’s not bad enough...

Which I talk about here and here, because honestly I’m just sick of this show’s antiblackness.  Theo & that other guy

So I was watching this unfold like, yeeaahh, they’re gonna make the trans guy get with the enemy aren’t they? And yes, they did. Cool, they didn’t kill him off, but I’m still perplexed at how Theo isn’t even a little upset that this guy was basically sent to infiltrate his friend group and sat by while his people harmed Theo’s friends, and also...used him? Like...we just...are gonna...gloss over that because he changed his mind? Lol ok. Sure.

Mambo Marie and suddenly Zelda?

I...I mean her name is Mambo Marie. I love the idea of Black witches finding Black spirituality and magicks through Vodun and a Hatian Priestess. But they quickly undo that, by ensuring that Mambo Marie only teaches Prudence in the presence of these white witches. And we see her...doing...an African drum circle (eye roll), only to be interrupted by the High Priestess of White Feminism, Zelda Spellman. It quickly devolves into thinly veiled racism where Zelda doesn’t trust Marie because she’s Catholic (says the woman who worships Satan, has an anti Pope and prays to Lilith with the same prayer for Mary mother of Jesus? LOL. Not even unpacking the fact that Vodun is an African spirituality having 0 roots in catholicism WHITE WRITERS). Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Marie and Zelda are a thing for no reason? After the way Zelda treated her? Why did Marie even stay? This isn’t her problem. This is a white witch problem. Okay. That’s too much to unpack. 

Plot

So, my biggest problem with almost all Netflix English programming is that they are so obsessed with aesthetics, and don’t pay enough attention to actual character chemistry, plot, story flow, details, pacing etc. Like...things that actually make stories interesting to watch. So they slap all these people together and throw them into aesthetically pleasing backgrounds, shake it up with so much exposition that nothing actually happens, and are like BEHOLD A STORY. And CAOS is *especially* guilty for this.

First of all those musical breaks were annoying as fuck. Musicals serve 2 story functions: advancing the plot or telling a story. These musical numbers did neither and were honestly ridiculously gratuitous, highly annoying and totally pointless.

What time of year is this? Why are we having pep rallies and how the fuck and when did Sabrina and Roz join the cheeleading squad, and why?

for the aesthetics and not for any real plot reason. It just seems stupid because now I don’t know how much time has passed between Nick going to hell and this, because you’re all handling it like it’s been a few weeks and is still relatively fresh, but suddenly, Theo, Harvey and Roz are in a garage band? You’re a cheerleader? For what? Since when? Why? These choices introduce more questions than they answer and serve no narrative purpose. So much wasted time on shit that doesn’t matter. 

Sabrina is supposed to be fighting Caliban (who is literally the only person she has chemistry with on this show and they killed him bc ofc they did), for her seat on the throne, and yet the trials only seem to come up when it’s convenient, and also seem to be directly related to her dealings with her coven, which is also convenient.  I’m so confused about Satan. His powers come from being a celestial being, and so, because his coven mistreats him he’s like...lol okay, well fuck you guys and goes through all these convoluted small motions to greatly inconvenience them and withdraws his powers? This is so petty and pathetic. Also, what’s the point? He could just wipe them out and start over, instead of skulking around inside FB then suddenly decides to track down Lilith. Again, convoluted. This plot is all over the place. Why does Satan need Sabrina to be Queen of Hell in the first place? He seems perfectly healthy. Why can’t he just rule it? Like...that makes no sense. What is he gonna do? Retire? WHAT is going ON?

How did Sabrina come back in time to herself stuck in stone? Is that trip to Pontius Pilate (lol) supposed to have created a loophole for her to save herself and everyone? This is giving me hardcore Twilight Breaking Dawn vibes, where, the show finally, FINALLY gets interesting, there’s real stakes, shit is actually happening instead of everyone talking about things happening (Hilda ending up killing her fiance was literally the only time I felt something watching this show because it was genuinely sad, and well acted, and Hilda coming through with that doll at the end was pretty disturbing, I’ll give them that), and ofc, Sabrina goes back in time and undoes it all. Lol. Okay. God forbid there be real consequences to anything on this show.

Final thoughts

Once again, the white feminism runs high on this show. They treat this Black Vodun Priestess Marie, like garbage, allude to her “foreign” magic, but Marie is sitting here like “we’re not men, we’re women, let’s work together.” This is why I hate white writers writing for Black characters. Black characters should have Black motivations, and a Black Vodun Priestess, should know that white women and Black women do not have aligned motivations just because they share a gender. Once they started with the bullshit right from her arrival, she should have handed Prudence her card and peaced tf out. Instead she tolerates the isolation, ostracization and thinly veiled racism...and decides to stay, and help. WHY? Marie has gained nothing by sticking around helping these ungrateful ass witches. I honestly would have preferred Prudence asking her to stay to learn more about Vodun, and them building a mentor/mentee type of relationship, especially since Prudence was the one who invited her and stepped to Zelda to defend her. I want(ed) to see that relationship go somewhere. The deliberate denial of healthy Black female friendships on tv is frustrating.

 These witches finally finding their power in their ancestors and I donno, some female creator or whatever, reminds me of white women “finding” wicca and praying to “Gaia”, (reminds me of BTVS s4 when Willow joins the wicca group) which is basically what happened but lol okay whatever. I guess they aren’t satanic witches anymore. Lol, I love how Harvey and Roz and Theo are teenagers, human teenagers, who have lead largely normal teenage lives up until this point, but see their loved ones tortured, deformed or murdered in hell, with basically no residual issues, and are all like, YES, let’s roll up on these adults with shotguns and swords and kill the FUCK outta these people!! That absolutely sounds normal! Like...what? Lol. God this is just so bad.

Also, I’m so confused by this aesthetic choice for Sabrina as Queen of Hell. Like what the fuck. Why is she dressed like a Victorian era queen, with shoulder and a broken rib bodice? What?!

This show is truly awful, this season made no more sense than the last two and now that Prudence and Ambrose aren’t together, I might be done watching. 

-20/10

[lemonietrinket]

Dinosaur ||| Doyoung x Reader

Summary: Doyoung was worried to meet your family, but he needn’t have been.  Genre: Fluff, Comedy, heated elements bc who doesnt want to make out with doyoung Warning(s): None Word Count: 2133 Theme Song: Fade Into You - Mazzy Star AN: December 17th prompt, meeting each other’s families (credit @songi-writes) Sorry this one is so much shorter than the others, I’m working on some bigger oneshots so needed to get this one done and dusted in a short period of time :(( EDIT: now I’ve edited I have realised how bad this was in places I’m so so sorry

~~~

You lay on your bed, taking in the sight of the man you loved. A single beam of light shone through the ajar door, falling in a golden haze at the strike of his jaw and gently illuminating the rest of his face for your eyes alone.

God he was so beautiful.

You stroked your hand across his cheek, thumb caressing the smooth skin there, slightly puffed in his sleeping state. 

Relief washed over you like the waves on the beach of a calm summer’s day, sinking into your breath, steady and paced.  He’d been so worried that morning, so tense throughout the whole drive there, and to see him finally resting let you finally allow yourself some peace.

You were staying round your parents’ house for the weekend, and he’d been absolutely terrified.  They’d never met him before, and though you’d told them a fair bit about him, you’d tried to keep the details as unobtrusive as possible, knowing Doyoung was quite a private person—you preferring your relationship to remain that way too.

However, it meant your parents had no idea what to expect, and he was afraid they were going to struggle with his blunter energy.

Or, in his words, loathe him with every fibre of their beings and banish him from ever laying eyes upon you ever again.

As you tempted your eyes to stay open by taking in the shadows of his features, your lips spread into a smile remembering his panicked ramblings, and at how misguided they were.

You knew they were going to love him. Even if your parents rambled on about things you should watch out for and things that make a man a keeper, and even if they pestered you or seemed blissfully ignorant of your choices, they still retained that it was your decision, deep down. Even if they made a fuss about it first. 

Nevertheless, Doyoung checked many of the boxes your parents required. Smart, polite, respectful, who was undoubtedly in love with you, with no eyes for any other. There was no doubt that they’d make a fuss about how good of a choice he was.

Still, your encouragement had proven little use, as the man—ever the pessimist—wouldn’t quite believe he was the perfect choice until he could see it for himself. And even then he would never admit it. You just worried for what this did to his heart, as he inevitably paced around, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched and lips pursed before you left.

Now he was peaceful again, and unbearably adorable as he twitched a little in his sleep. You pulled your hand away and let him nestle into a more comfortable position, content with just tracing the lines of his fingers instead.

.

When you’d entered through the door, you knew instantly that your mother recognised him. You knew it wasn’t a deep recognition, only that she’d seen his face before, and she’d questioned you about it while your dad spun Doyoung away to give him a tour of the house.

“Y/N, I swear to you that I’ve seen your boyfriend before,” she said, “is he a model? I-in one of the magazines?”

You’d chuckled, explaining that he was handsome enough to be, that she’d been more likely to have seen him on TV.

“Oh,” she’d said, “well I’m not sure about that, we don’t watch TV as much anymore, we only really have it on to watch the news, or big shows.”

Laughing, you asked her if Doyoung looked like he could be a big name to her.

She’d replied with a strong shake of her head. “No! No no. He’s too nice and gentle for big showbizz, hun. Why? He isn’t is he?”

You’d merely smiled in an effort to hold in your laughter, as well as slight pride, as you walked off to bring the bags in from the car. 

.

Doyoung rolled over to face the other way in his sleep, and you shifted a little closer so you could still garner some warmth. You slipped your arm over his waist gently in order to not wake him, and rested your head against his shoulder blade. A sigh left your lips at the mere feeling of his being, as he existed, and he was here with you. You couldn’t even believe it sometimes, and he was one of the more down-to-earth members of his group. The thought led you to stifle a chuckle at the thought of who was going to end up dating Jungwoo, or Yukhei, or god forbid Ten or Donghyuck—they would all be hard work in different ways, but those two really required something extra. Still, they were all such catches.  Nuzzling your cheek into his skin, you breathed in the scent of Doyoung, fresh and unintrusive, unable to hold yourself back from softly pressing a kiss into his back. 

.

The truth had come out at the dinner table, when your father had asked too much detail about Doyoung’s career.

He just wanted to know how much he earnt, but it ended up being a full on presentation of how all of the NCT units worked. Eventually your boyfriend had multiple pieces of paper with in-depth diagrams placed upon your grandmother’s old easel in the corner, using a bread knife as a pointer.

Throughout the entire thing, and bless it took your parents a while to get it, you were laughing so hard that by the end that you felt lightheaded. You had to give your family credit however, for paying so much attention to him—the fact that they stuck with it proved to him somewhat that they didn’t hate him as much as he feared, and consequently you found his words coming together much smoother afterwards. Though you had to admit it came as quite a surprise to you. You hadn’t expected them to behave in such an interested, genuine and determined manner, even for one that they held in such high esteem. 

.

Before you could dwell on the complexities of your parents’ behaviour—something that you would much prefer to leave in the past—Doyoung sat up in your bed, taking half of the blankets with him.

Ignoring the sudden cold across your torso, you lazily joined him, propping yourself up on an arm and gently holding his shoulder concernedly. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?”

He turned to you in the dark, the sliver of light from the hall barely showing his face and leaving you to search his bleary eyes in the shadows.  “I’ve met your parents, haven’t I?” he asked hesitantly.

You watched him bemusedly glance around the room, wanting to hold him closer and console him but not being sure if it was what he even needed. “Yes, you have.”

“Do they like me?” His voice was stronger this time, still grappled by sleep but no less worried about some part of his fate.

“Yes! They certainly do.”

There was a relieved sigh, as your boyfriend slumped back onto the bed. “Thank the world for that.”

“Why?” you enquired, shifting your weight so you could see him better in the dark. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” he reassured, turning over to face you, “no, just a... really weird dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it? It may help,” you suggested, though as you leant in you saw how his sweet features twisted into a sheepish smile. You caught onto his train of thought, “Or do I not want to know?”

“Probably not.”

You hummed, resting your head on your hand as you sent him a playful grin. “I don’t know, I’m kind of curious now... Give me five words.”

He peered up at you incredulously from the pillow where his dishevelled hair framed his face perfectly. “You...? You know why am I surprised.” He sighed, biting the inside of his lip as he thought. “Let me see... ‘your mum was a dinosaur’?”

You mouth fell open in giggly shock as you gasped and playfully kicked his leg. “Excuse me, sir! My mother does not look like a dinosaur!”

“I know! She doesn’t! Of course! But she like,” he searched for the words desperately as he tried not to laugh while you gave into them yourself, “she-she was like half a dinosaur in my dream and it was really weird, I told you that you didn’t want to know!”

“What the hell, Doyoung?!” you questioned aimlessly with a cackle as you joined him back on the mattress, a hand reaching out for his. He accepted your hand reluctantly, playing with it surprisingly petulantly, thumping it into the duvet. “Genuinely only my boyfriend would worry so much about his girlfriend’s mum not liking him that she would appear as a dinosaur in his dreams to... what,” you took a wild guess, “eat him because she didn’t like him?”

He faked hurt, his cheeks puffed out which only made the urge to pepper him in kisses stronger. “You better be proud of me, then!” he insisted, before shaking his head, leaning in a little closer to you. “And no, she just sat down with me beneath this big, shiny tree and just lectured me for what felt like hours—it was actually much, much worse than being eaten.”

You laughed a bit too loudly at the image his words provoked, which incurred Doyoung to hush you. “Keep it down...!”

“Or what,” you snickered, rubbing your eyes, “I’ll wake the real dinosaur and then she can lecture you for real?”

“Aish, shut up!” he whined at your childish teasing, but this time your giggles didn’t stop. Rolling his eyes, he decided to take the opportunity and rolled over so he could press a kiss to your lips. Chaste and quick, he’d hoped it would do the job, as he feared what a deeper kiss would do to his system—he could get lost in you so easily after all. For a few moments you settled into a amused silence, and he smiled in relief, hovering above you.

Unfortunately, it didn’t quite last.

“Is that all you’ve got? For the love of your life?” you pestered, smirking proudly. “A tiny peck to make me be quiet? When I know you’re capable of much more? Doyoung, quite frankly, I am ashamed!”

He guffawed, his lips smushing together in humourous indignance, before he let himself take revenge and tackle you into a deeper kiss. Your noses brushed as you met his lips, this time much hotter and deeper. Practically straddling you, your body was engulfed in warmth as Doyoung reached up to hold your cheek with a cold hand. The contrast made you squeak at the sudden iciness, but it only led him to sink into the kiss more. 

Clutching at his shirt, you felt your laughter die down and a more comfortable haziness settle into your bones. You slowly slipped your hands up across his lithe waist, across his torso, toned yet supple beneath your fingers, finally knotting your hands behind his neck. He shuddered at your caresses of his chest, dropping onto his side so he could rest but hold you closer—his predominant aim, as he couldn’t sink into you how he wished with space between you. And so his hand slipped to the small of your back, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt and traced calligraphy into your skin. The movement was so tender, but it did startle you, leading you to hum into his touch as you instead wrung your hand in the soft tresses of his hair. 

Gradually you pulled away, your breathing slightly laboured and your lips plump from his ministrations; despite how he presented himself, Doyoung knew exactly how to steal your breath away, and he didn’t fail to do so. You gazed at him lovingly in the dim light, the auburn from the lamp beyond you revealing his flushed cheeks—reminding you of what you could do to him no less too. Slowly dipping in to kiss him once more, your touch ebbed with lethargy, he murmured as he pulled away, “Are you a little more tired now?���

“A little,” you admitted, letting yourself fall away from him and into the pillow. He nodded, feeling successful and proud but nonetheless exhausted himself. Reaching across he dipped into kiss your cheek, coming to rest just beside you. Meanwhile necessity implored you to seek cooler air to finally settle into sleep and so you rolled to face away from him, eyelids already feeling heavier again.

He hummed in acknowledgement, satisfied with the results he’d earnt, and joined you, his arms wrapping around you as he took the role of the big spoon. Nestling his nose into your neck, he whispered, “Goodnight love.”

“Goodnight,” you replied, closing your eyes and willing yourself into the world of sleep at last. 

~~~

AN: I don’t like it. I don’t think it ended well. I’m sorry, I had to write it fast, I’ll edit it one day I promise.

I also just realised this isn’t very christmassy. That being said, I wasn’t in a very christmassy mood when i wrote this so it’s no surprise really Sorry :((

Check out my other stuff it is undoubtedly much better lol

EDIT: ok so, this was pretty bad when I first wrote it, but like, now it’s much much better. I think? I feel the tone is very different though.

still don’t feel the end is amazing but I’ve got bigg bois to write so this will do for now I think. hope this does doyoung a better service than the original did

[edited: 12th April 2020]

Masterlist

[angelicspaceprince]

Photographs

Author:  Ama

Title: Photographs

Pairing: Established Beetlejuice/Reader, friends Beetlejuice and Lydia

Character/s: Beetlejuice, Lydia.

Word Count: 1, 814 words

Warnings: Mentions of yellow fever and death, possible historical inaccuracies, Beetleboi being a sad boi.

Tags:  @justballoonfishthings, @beetlejuicecansteponme, @yankyo, @beetlebitchywitch, @scribblepigeon, @trelaney, @kyuubinu, @imma-fucking-nerd (some I tagged bc I wanted you to suffer with me, others bc I’ve been ranting about this to you guys all morning, enjoy!)

Summary: Lydia finds a box at Beetlejuice’s house, not realising that what it contains is an emotional subject for her friend. He goes through each item in the box and explains the history of the person the images are centered around.

Notes: Two fics within hours of each other? What magic is this? Also, I hit you with cuteness, and now I hit you with sad. Suffer.

So, I’ve fallen in love with a song that Alex Brightman sings from the 35mm musical called Cut You A Piece and it gives me tears every time I hear it so here. Have a fic loosely based on it.

Basically, the Beetlejuice I’m using is Musical!Juice but stuff like Lydia visiting his house in the Netherworld is more from the cartoon. You were alive in the 1850s. There are mentions of yellow fever and death in this fic. It’s pretty sad, if people want a happy ending hmu and I’ll try and scrounge something together. I also based the hair colours off dreammbc’s mood ring hair headcanons found here. Takes place after the musical, Beej disappeared for about a year before returning to hang out with his best friends and everyone in the Deetz house are fine with him sue me I want a happy family ending. Female reader, soz all. Enjoy!

Buy Me a Coffee

Photographs

Beetlejuice hadn’t thought of you in the better part of sixty years. Possibly longer. It was too hard to think about you and what happened. He didn’t like crying or feeling broken, but after everything that happened? He just broke down whenever he thought of you.

So, when Lydia brought up the box in the living room that remained firmly shut, the sudden onset of emotions that attacked him was enough for Lydia to decide to get out.

He was never good with emotions.

It took a couple of days before he calmed down, his hair slowly having blue and yellow slowly streaking into it compared to the pitch black it had been since Lydia brought up the box. It took another day for him to sheepishly return to the Deetz’s to apologise, box in hand.

He apologised for scaring her (he didn’t) and that he just needed his space (she knows) but if she really wanted to know what was in the box, he could show her now.

The curious teen tentatively took the box from him and opened it up. Inside were a few, old looking photos of a woman dressed in what appears to be just an everyday dress from the mid 1800’s and a very clean looking Beetlejuice dressed in similarly aged attire. Both of you were laughing and smiling, holding onto each other, clearly very much in love. Beneath all five of the photos was what clearly used to be a pressed rose, although it looked a little beyond dead at this point, and two silver rings, one larger than the other. Lydia carefully held each object as Beetlejuice looks down at them next to her, clearly in another world as he just watches her go over every single item. “Who was she?” She finally asks, pointing to the woman in the picture.

“Y/N.” He breaths out, a small smile appearing on his lips as he takes the photo, the last one the two of you took together before-. “She was my fiancé.” He explains softly as he thumbs over your laughing face at whatever bad joke, he had told you right before the photo was taken. “Well, nearly.” Lydia looks over at the photos again, it’s clear in every single one Beetlejuice is absolutely smitten. She turns over the top photo in the pile on her lap, in green ink and swirled writing she makes out the caption. ‘June 6th, 1852. Beetlejuice and Y/N, New York. Pretty sure the photographer was over us by the end.’

“How did you meet?” She doesn’t look up from the pile in her lap, continuing to turn over each photo to reach the written message on the back. She didn’t notice the fond smile and his mood ring hair slowly turning to a pastel green.

“Her friends summoned me as a joke.” He starts. “19th century was filled with people who wanted to communicate with the dead, her friends didn’t think that anything would happen but then I showed up and they all booked it. She thought I was hysterical so she kept me around. About a year later, she asked me to court her and so we started dating.” He starts to fidget and fiddle, putting the photo back in the box so he doesn’t ruin it with the anxiety that’s running through his body. The last thing he wants to do is crinkle the photos or, God/Satan forbid, rip it. “We dated for about three years, those photos were for our first anniversary. She didn’t believe in the whole getting married thing, we were already living together and that was enough for her. Bit unconventional for the time, but that was my Y/N.” His smile widens slightly when the happy memories start to wash over him. “Was always there if I needed help scaring someone, always there to bounce ideas. Couldn’t stand the fact that I was filthy all the time, so I took to bathing for her which was a big deal for both of us. She had a higher standard of cleanliness than most people back then. Couldn’t dance to save herself though. Not wearing those dresses, she kept tripping over the skirts.”

Lydia listens to every word, letting Beetlejuice more or less spill his heart out. Neither of them are into heart-to-hearts, but its pretty evident that this time around, its what her friend needs. She listens as he lists off every single thing he loved about her and the things that frustrated him about her, every tiny detail she loved about life and the things she hated, what she loved about him and what caused her to want to beat him with a stick. It was like all of a sudden, he could remember every detail that he had thought he had forgotten, and if he didn’t voice them, they’d be gone. By the end of it, his hair was streaked with faint blue with his pastel green, voice was wobbly, and eyes wear close to shedding tears. Lydia knew that he had to get it out of his system and, even though it made her uncomfortable, she wanted to give him permission to just let it out.

“What happened to her?” Her voice is gentle and encouraging as he clears his throat, not really wanting to tell her how your relationship ended, but needing to nonetheless.

“She died.” He quietly admits. “Yellow fever, there was an outbreak around 1853, 1855. She was one of the last ones to die.” He swallowed before continuing. “I thought something was wrong, but she insisted it was just a cold. She was so hot, couldn’t even stand to hear me walk across the floor to get her something to drink. Couldn’t eat she was so tired, but she was in so much pain she couldn’t sleep. So, she just cried and held on to me to keep her cool.” Beetlejuice closed his eyes, already seeing her face resurfacing in his mind. “It was after three days of pain she started to puke her guts up. Three days after that, she was vomiting blood. Two days after that, she started going yellow. She kept saying that she didn’t want to go to hospital but when she started to go yellow in her eyes and her skin looked like she had been rolling around in the yellow dye vat at her work, I just stood up and carried her there myself.” He swallows. “I should have taken her there sooner, by the time we got her there she was already too close to death. I stayed with her in that hospital, helped her drink whatever little water I could and let her sleep with me keeping her cool. She just continued to go yellow. There was so much blood, Lyds, I never thought a breather could produce so much.” He needs to breath, the smell of the hospital refilling his nose was getting to be too much for him. “Eventually, she just slept. She slept for another week before she died in my arms. And that was the end of that.” He retakes the photo from before and flips it over, in his messy and almost illegible handwriting he reread the words he’d written there over a hundred years ago in the same green ink. ‘Marry me?’ “I should have taken her to the hospital sooner, but I thought she’d know best. She was still a breather, I hadn’t been alive for centuries by that point, I thought perhaps I was overreacting because I was excited. I found out about the clause, if you marry a breather you become one too. I was going to propose to her and explain that we could have an actual relationship together and die together, be a bit more normal. I never got that chance.” In anger, he throws the photo back down as he slams back onto Lydia’s bed. It’s only now that she realises his hair is streaked in almost every colour of the rainbow as conflicting emotions hit him from left, right and centre. She gives him a minute before slowly packing everything away.

“Did you look for her?” She hears him nod against the mattress, his eyes still pressed firmly shut as he tries his best to cry silently.

“Spent nearly a hundred years looking through the Netherworld tryna find her. Spent a bit of time looking up here too. No luck. She’s gone, babes. You will never find what you’re looking for in the Nether, so there’s no point in looking.” He cracks open an eye to look at the box now sitting between him and the goth teen and sighs. “I try not to think of her, it hurts too much. But wherever I go, she comes too.”

Lydia hums. She gets it, to a degree. It hurts every single time she thinks of her mother, how sick she got and how quick she had died. But she still needed to think of her, she’d rather face the pain than forget her mother. And she also knows what it feels like when wherever you go, you feel like you’re carrying that person with you. “Perhaps it’s what you need? It hurts but you still have all your good memories.” He hums, not really agreeing or disagreeing. “It sounds like you cut her a piece of you, and she cut you a piece of her. You carry her now and I think she carries you too, Beej.”

Beetlejuice doesn’t make a sound, but he did hear her. It takes a while for his emotions to slowly simmer down to background noise and once it does, he simply sits up, grabs the box and shuts it away, leaving everything as it was before he opened it. Perhaps one day, he will be able to open the box without hurting and perhaps, one day, he will run into you again. Perhaps it’ll work out for him in the long run. But for now, he’d rather not think about it.

“Let’s go scare your dad kid, I’ve been letting him relax for too long now.” The demon offers as a distraction. Lydia, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t let him get away that easy. But she’s willing to let this one slide as the two of them leave the room to go plot a way to give Charles the fright of his life, leaving the box on the bed unattended, unseen, as it opens, and a sixth photograph appears on top of the pile. Of a very sickly-looking woman sleeping in the arms of a very stressed demon sleeping in a hospital bed surrounded by other sick people. On the back, the words simply say ‘Wherever you go, I’ll go too. I lost my life when I lost you.’ You can wait for him to be ready to find you again, however long it takes.

[collectivedreamscapes-moved]

That thought that was too complicated to word earlier.

We are aware that people all respond to trauma differently. We’ve known this for some time now. We’ve told other people this a lot. Because it’s not good to compare your trauma to someone else’s trauma.

We have heard from time to time that because of processing and sensory issues, sometimes things that don’t cause trauma with NTs can cause trauma to autistics. just... because of those basic differences in how the autistic brain handles things. How true this is we’ve never looked into because we didn’t think it was something we needed to worry about.

Now... we’re kinda starting to wonder.

We been through some shit, no lie. Not even gonna try and downplay the level of shit we been through or that it started before we were even born.

For a long time we thought our father was our primary abuser. Because we could remember some of the things he’d done. We grew up thinking it was discipline. Discipline shouldn’t leave bruises behind. Especially on a seven year old.

Those are things we’ve always known, have never forgotten. Our dad beat us. Never been a question. The whole family, extended as well, knew he did. His words were he wanted his kids to fear him more than anything else in this world. Yes... he did say that, more than once.

The rest of the shit he did we didn’t learn for years.

(it always feels like cognitive dissonance that our dad abused us far more overtly and specifically and yet we hate our mother and don’t hate him. we don’t forgive what he did, but it comes down to our father loved us our mother did NOT and we could feel it even then. they both HURT us, damaged us, but the intent was very different and our dad has since TRIED to apologize. our mother NEVER has.)

For a long time... we believed our mother was the safe parent. Because she wasn’t as physically aggressive the way our father was. So it would confuse us that in journals and diaries over the years the most common phrase (other than just feeling like we don’t fucking fit anywhere) was that we hated our mother. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense. (ironically, when our mother read our diaries she was far more concerned with her nine year old daughter hating her rather than the wanting to die part, go figure.)

That was before we knew a lot of things or understood what really counts as abuse.

Over the years we have learned that in some ways, our mother was FAR more abusive. We have learned that children who grow up in abusive homes often ally to the less violent parent because of a NEED to feel there is someone they can trust.

Our mother used that. She would twist things to make us question our reality so badly. Some days we didn’t think we could trust anything we thought we remembered. She made fun of us. She belittled us.She manipulated us. She toyed with us.

My mother has always been about appearances and how the outside world perceived her family. She had this ideal image that was supposed to be projected. Very often we were the problem child who marred her perfect little vision.

Our parents had a rocky marriage at best. We would hear their fights through the floor of our bedroom. They would each use us as a sounding board for shit no kid should be dealing with, would try and sway us to their side. We were left feeling like we were always in the middle of some tug of war and we were supposed to know how to fix what was wrong, or we would have to choose a side. It sucked and left us believing we always had to take care of everyone around us.

We got good at that. Too good.

But here’s the thing. So much of before we were in middle school is piecemeal recall. What things we can recall often didn’t happen IN our home. At school. Around the neighborhood (because we used to wander a lot. so much.). It’s hard to remember things that happened at home at all through the years. We can remember the layout of the house. We could draw it right now if we wanted to. We remember we played musical rooms. We know that we would rearrange our whole room periodically. We can remember things that happened with our brother. We remember random things. We can’t directly recall most of the abusive situations. We know people hold them. We also know so far, no one cares to share them.

Here’s the thing. When we think about our mother in those years, beyond the art crap she would let us do... what we most recall are things like, her yelling at us repeatedly about changing the cat boxes because we had no concept of time and our sense of smell does NOT work like it should. We remember for every nice thing she did there were half a dozen other things we couldn’t understand why she’d do but hurt us. We couldn’t understand why something always rang false with what she would say to us. We knew she treated our siblings differently, but we didn’t know why. She was always telling people ‘that’s just how she is’ or ‘she’s in one of her moods’. She was always belittling what we felt, more worried about how the family would be perceived.

(one notable trip to the base ER for yet another fall because we were clumsy af and had numerous sprained and twisted ankles and wrists and such over the years, she commented ‘god i hope these doctors don’t think you’re being abused’ and we recall looking at her and thinking ‘god forbid someone get a clue and know the truth right?’)

we remember ending up in the ER and having to be held down by two nurses and a doctor (we assume we’d started to have seizures) to give us a shot bc our idiot mother figured we’d grown out of a penicillin allergy (that she shares and is very much an adult and still fucking had) and gave it to us anyway even when we questioned the wisdom of taking it. (the doctor made sure WE understood, not just our mother, that taking that shit could kill us.)

why are we even going over all of this? because of what happened when we woke up, that reflexive hitting our own hand and telling ourselves to ‘stop that’. because we could picture our mother doing that to us. 

(this woman would hit hard enough to bruise her own damn hand okay? she once broke her finger trying to hit the dog for wiggling too much while she was trying to unravel the chain and missed and hit my brother’s Tonka truck instead. and that was the dog. she burst blood vessels in her hand giving my brother a ‘spanking’.)

And we started to wonder... all those splits that aren’t from explicit abuse and the LARGE number of kids in our system... learning about being autistic (and yeah, the signs were SO there even as a two and three and four year old)... how much damage this woman has actually done to us.

(and this is where we have to say... we sometimes remember way more than we think we remember and at the same time so much less. like what did actually happen at home after we almost drowned in canyon lake? got not a clue.)

We used to think it was just... the extent of what we’d been through. Except... it didn’t feel right. Especially because of the Mountain Caves. And the people who stay there. Because they don’t function in a way that would lend itself to being able to take care of themselves. We used to say that all of them were... not quite right in the head. That there was some damage or deficiency in every single one of them. We have wildchild, who often has to be kept in a straight jacket to keep from clawing her face to ribbons and screams and bangs her head. she’s never talked. ever. and she doesn’t scream all the time. but it’s the only sound we’ve ever heard her make.

How many splits have we had for the sole purpose of appearing normal because whatever we were doing was unacceptable and wrong? We have a lot of nonvebal kids. We never really thought about it because we ARE multiple and we have been through some shit and trauma can do that.

We just wonder... how much of the way our system grew came from just trying to find ways to LOOK more normal. Because of our mother. How much of our system’s development was because of being autistic and having a mother who... hated us and everything about us?

And now we feel like we’re trying to say the only reason our system is so big is because of being autistic and that’s not what we’re saying. I’m not sure what we’re saying now... We’re not looking for something to blame. We’re not trying to say we weren’t abused or we were just ‘too sensitive’. That’s not what we’re saying.

I don’t know what we’re trying to say. It made sense a few minutes ago and now it’s just... confused and tied up in half a dozen other things. and it still comes down to we may never know. Trying to untangle things now is impossible. And we already knew our mother was a bitch. None of this changes anything.

Except that... if we’ve spent years, decades even, stopping ourselves from doing things a certain way because we internalized our mother’s reactions... how the hell do we stop doing it to ourselves? How do we stop telling ourselves what we’re doing is so very wrong or bad? how do we stop ourselves form feeling guilty when we give in because it fucking helps?

[hanzolotl]

Massive g/en/cy rant incoming.

“all these g/en/cy haters are biphobic”

Well, actually. Most people DO ship other f/m ships (usually ships that are between a character of colour/characters of colour). Complaining that M/ercy and G/enji MUST be straight bc of a relationship between them is... non existant. Also, we all know that the writers would are heavily unlikely to make these characters bi. As a bi person, I do not trust these people to do that correctly.

Not to mention, it’s pretty shitty of you to use Bisexuality to validate your F/M ship.

“All these g/en/cy haters are soo hypocritical after celebrating tracer being gay”

let me give you a lesson on representation. A character is confirmed as a wlw, more specifcally NAMED as a lesbian. She is widely accepted by the LGBT+ community for this, and some allies, too. However, a lot of people dislike this idea, mostly because they are straight men who were sexually attracted to her. A lot of people feel more safer playing this game when they are validated by the devs, and they know they won’t be treated badly in game, maybe even hope for more LGBT+ characters. 

Now, two characters (spefically, one woman identifying and one man identifying) are implied (IMPLIED) to be interested in each other romantically. People are angry about this, because of several things:

After having the Tracer Reveal, this seems like an apology to the straight fans for making an LGBT+ character. 

This relationship will get more attention than the Tracer reveal (people will play the game, people will hear these lines. Nowhere in the game does it promote the Reflections comic, nowhere is it even mentioned that there a comics. Someone who plays the game and nothing else will probably have no idea that Overwatch even has comics)

It encourages them to not do any more LGBT+ characters. If this is celebrated as much as it is, then they will feel that one character was enough, like everyone else.

“All these g/en/cy haters in our tag”

Do you know what? Here’s another lesson on how Tumblr Tags work. In another fandom I was in, the youtubers who we were fans of were on Tumblr. Not only this, they were extremely aggressive about people in the wrong spaces. Yes, they were policing spaces they had no right over. You had to keep shippy or LGBT stuff out of their tags, and god forbid if you didn’t slash out their name because stuff appears in tags if you mention the name. People were being sent hate, being bullied because of a harmless thing being put in a tag.

So when you say “our tag” what you mean to say is #gency as a tag. Because otherwise, people will end up with their stuff in a tag, where it really shouldn’t be. Also, before you complain, Tumblr is a blogging platform. The point of a blog is to log your thoughts, your feelings. People can write whatever the fuck they want about anything, so long as it sticks to guidelines (this means u, pedophiles and incest shippers) This also means you have every right to block these people, and they will not turn up in your tags.

“shut up” “whiny pissbabies” “u need to jump off of the empire state building right now”

If you were complaining about Bi/Panphobia then immediately jump to telling LGBT+ folks to shut up about their lack of representation... I’ve got some bad news for you about a third lesson we’re doing today. Homophobia.