#idk im havin feelings

[baladric]

currently helpin my mom clear the last of her shit out of a house thats been in my family for 29 years so they can sell it, and its just so strange. i didnt get to say goodbye to my childhood home bc my mom moved out and leased it in the space of a month while i was in college, so this is sort of my first farewell to a space i've known so deeply and it's?? such a quiet and baffling grief. esp considering they all stopped taking care of it a while ago so it's in a state of disrepair, and it's sort of gross—but it's this huge, gorgeous house with enormous windows and soaring ceilings, and it used to be so warm and comforting and full of people. and now every room but the guest rooms and the formal living room (i know, i know, the money skipped my nuclear group) are cavernously empty, and it's just me and my mom and brother here, and the birds are all gone bc the birdfeeders went to my mom's apartment months ago, and like. i understand haunted houses so much more now. it feels haunted, bc it feels bereft. no handfuls of kids screaming in the bathtub after a day out, no smell of sunscreen and lakewater, no one making the weird cornbread my grandpa liked with the whole peppercorns in it, or tv news hour goin in the living room, or insufferably academic bickering over the dinner table. just us, three quiet people, haunting our own selves. my brother and me making falafel and having our own insufferable conversations about warhammer and tommy tallarico and the continuity of discworld (foreign words to a house that has only known doctors and phd'd geographers and hobbiest triathletes, not an artist among them but us, not an angry radical but us, no one like us since our father stepped out this door for the last time 27 years ago), while our mom sits quietly, looking for the one optimistic nuthatch that noticed her return to the porch and came back to check for bird seed. weird little week. weird little family.

weird little (big) house with its aunts fussing at me to polish silver (i know, i know, i still went home to the power company threatening to turn the lights off and picked my mother up off the floor at 2 am when she fell again), and its sighing drafts in the rafters (i never did sleep very well here, not until now, not until i understood that there were scarier things than what i made up in my own mind and learned to trick myself into safety), and the closets i hid so well in that my cousins could never find me (do i even need the parenthetical here, no, not really.) weird little scrapbook memories. weird little life.

[donutdisturblivball]

hey can someone compile all the subtle and not so subtle lokius hints and post it online byler slides style? asking for a friend

[orbdotexe]

Under pressure and request from both Osiris and Shin Malphur, Drifter seeks out the Young Wolf early in their exile. He's not sure he'd say it went well, but it certainly could've gone much, much worse. And hey; Shin was right, new friends are new friends. Alternatively: Two rogue Guardians play horse plinko with each other before agreeing to an exchange of favors.

I finally did it- A Questionably Fortunate Encounter's rewrite. I have no idea how I got the motivation to finish this, it wasn't even half done when I picked it back up, but here it is in time for TFE's (concept's) 2nd birthday! I am significantly happier with this than the original, you have no idea. It wasn't even a thousand words and now it's like 20 words from being 2k, and overall? Everything just has more character + an extra page of interaction and the end note being from Ghost instead of Drifter. and being accurate to more story details! I kept a lot of the parts i thought were funny tho, if moved them around-

[old ver. ao3] --- [new ver. ao3]

-

The Sundial. A ballsy idea from a mad warlock.

Knocking a few times on the side, he can’t help the chills down his spine at the whispers ringing in his ears.  “If you short-circuit the universe, you’re on your own.” He snips, his already uneasy grin wavering.

“If I make a mistake here, you might cease to exist,” the old Warlock says simply, though there’s a questioning edge to it.

Drifter only shrugs. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”

Osiris squints at him as Drifter moves around the machine, checking the stability. “We haven’t talked about payment.” 

Drifter’s grin smooths out some, sly now. “If you live through this little experiment, you can be sure I’ll be back to collect.”

A simple ‘hm’ is the only response he gets for a few seconds, before Osiris starts again.

“There’s a Guardian you should meet.”

“Yeah, yeah, so I’ve heard. Some bigshot—Can’t wait.”

"Drifter."

—

The Warlock and that old Hunter had their points—The Young Wolf needed people on their side, and it's not like Drifter couldn't use the opportunity. He figured, if worst comes to worst, just say Osiris sent him. It seemed the best bet; he heard the two of them had been on good terms, and Osiris wouldn’t have sent him without reason.

This was, regardless, a horrible idea.

Which was very quickly weighing him down as he waited just inside their most recent hideout; a willing, sitting duck in the path of a hellhound. Then again, Shin would be waiting for him, just the same, to see if he really went through with it. A rock and a hard place, if both were unmovable walls.

—

Eventually, the Kingbreaker did show up—and they looked pissed—but they didn't seem to quite notice him, yet. 

Their Ghost, on the other hand, had stopped at the door, and was switching between glaring at him, and watching its Guardian. It was a bare hope, but he almost prayed for the Little Light to let the Guardian notice him by themself—for what good it would do.

Drifter had to admit, though, they looked like Hell—In both the shit way and the eternal punishment way—And he'd quite like to keep them from being his punishment, thanks.

They were never in the same place for long, constantly tapping their fingers or wringing their hands. He'd almost call it a nervous habit; if the jerky, almost corpse-twitching movements didn't make him feel like they'd pounce on him at any given moment. It gave the distinct impression of a Taken, a fact he took no comfort in. He had told Shin they would be unpredictable, but recordings didn’t capture just how much.

The Guardian’s posture was rather slumped, in spite of their twitchiness, but he was rather certain he was a pinch taller than them; though it could be their hunch. That dead-eyed and bone-deep tiredness that seeped off of them… The Guardian stumbled whenever they walked, off-balance. Injured, maybe.

They looked as unstable on their feet as he imagined they were mentally.

He rapped his fingers on the tabletop he was leaning against, a slight knot in his stomach building on the question of ‘How to get their attention without getting pinned as a threat?’

Questionably fortunate enough, and probably should’ve been expected; the tapping made them pause, and he'd almost compare the frozen movement to their namesake freezing to listen. They nearly looked like they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't be, or as if a sudden red dot (or dozen) had appeared on their chest. 

The Young Wolf then snapped to look at him, eyes narrowed and hand beginning to raise to their sword. Their Ghost noticed, and took it as a sign to speak up; "What do you think you’re doing here? Who are you?" For being the Ghost of an exile, its voice was strikingly uptight. Drifter had expected an edge to the voice, but not for it to be pedant.

"Mind your business, Ghost," he drawled. Their head jolted up a fraction. "Just want a talk with your Guardian, is all-"

Their Ghost flicked back a bit, only to be replaced by its Guardian stepping up close to him. Well… he got their attention, at least.

His gut twisted in knots as the seconds passed like that—far, far too close for comfort. "How about we just… back up for a moment, yeah? Think this all through?" Like he hadn’t. He should have told that Warlock and Shin to shove their requests back down their throats.

The Guardian tilted their head, the action more unnerving than anything else, reminding Drifter of a certain other Hunter, and he was unsure if it was an acknowledgement or a threat. They refused to look anywhere but his eyes, and he swore they leaned a bit closer.

He raises his hands to push them back a bit, but thinks better of touching them. He opts to just slide back a bit, instead– except they match his step. He does not take another one. That definitely wasn't good.

"I'll ask again: Who are you?" The Ghost hovers over its Guardian’s shoulder as they tilt their head to allow it to take the center of Drifter’s vision. Their dynamic is clear, but he tries to focus on them.

"Your old man Osiris didn't mention me?” Drifter tries to say, “I’m hurt–”

"You will be hurt–" the Ghost starts, just as the Guardian grips his collar. There’s a moment the Drifter is almost certain they were going to slam him into the wall.

"Alright, alright—” he tries to interrupt, “Just back up.”

It takes them a moment, and a couple glances between him and the Ghost, but they do back up, if not letting go of his collar. He tries to quietly let out the breath he’d been holding, nerves a bit strung. Their emotions are as on-a-dime as he thought. Damn this plan. The Ghost eyes him expectantly.

"You can call me Drifter; I run a little… operation outta the Tower." Their face somehow pulls even further in a grimace. “Now, I know how that sounds, but I’m not working with the Vanguard—Trust. Wouldn’t be here if I was: Heard about your… dislike of ‘em.”

He gives them a grin when they don’t make another move, though not optimistic. Watching every little change in their expression doesn’t give him much hope, either, given the hard line in their brow now. 

"That old Phoenix of yours pointed me your way, and I figured we both could make use of the others'... skills. I've got the connections, and you've guts enough to attack your own–”

The Drifter hardly has time to blink before his back is against the wall again, this time with a knife to his throat, sharp eyes glaring down at him—So it's like that. Osiris might've downplayed the sore spot; Drifter can’t even get away with a tease. He’s good at pushing buttons, but their reservations broke immediately.

He counts by the seconds as the Young Wolf silently dares him to say it again. 

While he decidedly opts not to and tries to think of a way to de-escalate his mistake, he has… an inane thought: They’re taller than him… Not by too much, but the thought gives him an idea potentially worse than even the meeting itself was; something mischievous glinting in his eye and, as an added bonus, giving the Guardian pause.

"...Kinky." Feeling their hold loosen somewhat and seeing their brow twitch, Drifter pushes the joke with a sly grin and a cant to the side. “I didn’t realize you swung like that, Killer…”

Drifter’s eyes flick towards the Ghost at the undoubtably horrified, near-static chiming it makes as it rapidly recoils. “Are you… trying to flirt your way out of this–”

The Guardian’s expression seems of someone entirely bewildered by a puzzle in front of them. As they loosened their hold in what he could only assume was disbelief, Drifter had to stop himself from laughing—in relief, at the absurdity, or at their reaction.

“Nahh… Just seizing an opportunity, you’d understand,” he says, as nonchalantly as he can manage. There’s a moment of silence, the Guardian and their Ghost both searching his face, and it's everything he can do not to break—Either into a sweat or into a fit of laughter.

"...what the hell is wrong with you?" is the only response he got from the Ghost, the top fold of its shell covering half its eye. Drifter can only assume it's meant to be a mimicry of a dead-stare.

"Many things!” He gives a toothy grin that splits his face as he chuckles, “Next question."

The Ghost makes a show of rolling its eye, while the Guardian still looks like their mind has shattered, eyes seeming to search the wall through him for answers. The Ghost seems to take notice of its Guardian’s… inoperable state, and pipes up again, terse, “So what do you want?”

He’s really going to have to cut a deal with the Ghost, instead, isn’t he? As Drifter slowly tugs the Guardian’s hand from his collar—which they thankfully do not resist—he gives the Ghost the greasiest side-eye he can manage. “Well, as I was saying before your Guardian interrupted me,” it mimics narrowing its eye as he speaks. “I hear you two need friends, and, well, I’m always looking for more of those.”

“Just get to the point,” the Ghost pushes, tone flat. The Guardian seems to only vaguely be paying attention.

“Them and I could both use the support, so I suggest an… exchange.”

“An exchange? What is that– You mean, glimmer?” The Ghost interrupts itself with flicking its shell around itself and letting out a short chirr. “Information? We have nothing you’d want in that.”

“Nah, I don’t want any of that. If anything, I’m offering—You two just gotta do some favors for me in return. How’s that sound?” At the mention of favors, the Guardian refocuses; eyes widening some before narrowing and scanning him in search of some catch. “Just a job or two; you scratch my back, I scratch yours, yeah? Nothing you wouldn’t already do, of course.”

At the skeptical, almost blank looks from both of them, Drifter’s grin tightens some. “Favor for favor make sense to you?” He’s tempted to ask if they’ve got cotton in their ears. The pair take a long glance at each other, and he can only see the slight twitching in both’s expressions. 

“...And how do we know we can trust you?” Finally comes an answer, again from the Ghost, but one that’s more assuring than it probably should be.

“Your old man asked me here, didn’t I say? I wouldn't risk this without a good word.” That, or without Shin over his shoulder. He turns his eye back to its Guardian and offers them a hand, “So, whaddya say? Give it a shot, hotshot?”

The Ghost trills in some semblance of worry as the Guardian cautiously eyes him and his hand, body canted away from him, before hesitantly taking his hand. Their hold is slight and feels like they would rather writhe away from him, but they hold just long enough to shake his hand.

“Heyy, don’t be like that, now. Friends take care of friends, yeah? Trust.” The Guardian grimaces at his words. Maybe that odd adage of insects had a bit more truth to it than he realized. 

They’re more scared of you than you are of them?

—

Hours later, the Drifter far gone, and his Guardian was still kind of distracted. Honestly, Ghost would be lying if he said he wasn’t mind-broke by that as well. Who, in any sane state of mind, would do any of that? Sneak into an ill exile’s hideout, startle and piss them off, and then try to make a deal? 

And why did it… actually work?

Ghost must be losing it.

[bananasfosterparent]

[gurorori]

speaking of not having a room in my life ever... don't think it's ever talked abt how much of a deeply traumatic n dehumanising experience that is & i mean that wholeheartedly

everyone our age i know to this day who we grew up with has one, grown up with one since early childhood, had choice in what to surround themselves with in their own space and could have privacy when needed

i sleep in a single bed in a corner, that's all i have. we've always shared a room with 1-3 ppl and it was never a bearable experience growing up, but once you reach your early teens i feel like it just starts being traumatising regardless of environment. i know most of the time it's not anyone's intent to deprive children of personal space, it is most often the result of poverty & inability to give them that but i'm fully convinced you should not be having a child if you can't give them that

maybe my own experience is saturated by other household trauma that this lack of personal space opened us up to but as a whole, i think it's abuse to deny a growing human being their fully own space, as small as it could possibly be, any space at all ... i can't really explain why it's such an important part of growing up but not only do i still feel alienated based on that alone, i also don't feel like i have any right to privacy at all, no place i can just be and do what i want without being watched, judged, commented on or demanded a change (i can't turn the light on/off or close/open the door or windows without input! i can't keep the door closed at all actually bc she will come and open it and ask why i need it closed!)

anyway i just feel like it contributed to our trauma insurmountably and affected our mental health to this day. it feels like yet another puzzle piece in 'normal human development' missing that i will never be able to fill in?

i wonder if there r any studies done on this or any professional opinion on depriving children of personal space & privacy. reading other people's experiences online unanimously seems to imply it immensely fucked up our senses of self n complicated being in touch with our needs

so conclusion i guess. if ya plan on ever having N amount of children PLEASE think realistically if yr able 2 provide em an environment that allows em 2 have all of their needs fulfilled... n that absolutely includes the right to privacy

[teddykaczynski]

my friends lives aren’t perfect obviously they have a lot of bullshit to deal with and frustrating moments but im having such a hard time with the knowledge that theyre all our here having so much fun and living my dream life while i have to do bullshit i dont really care about all day

[jesickachaos]

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[gothamcityneedsme]

i would say jacobs loyalty quest is a good mission. Its a tense and terrible story, a somewhat predictable premise for an adventure story conflict, but like. Thats the problem. Its a good *sidequest*, not a good loyalty quest. We dont learn much that is unique about Jacob here. He already had problems with his father, and already wasnt speaking to him. It is terrible and Jacob reacts correctly, but there isnt really conflict or change in him here, to me? The other loyalty missions have much more changing moments and are more personal. They tell us new things or elaborate on what we know. Maybe the mission is more intense if you kill his father? I dont know.

The closest it gets to intriguing is the scene with TIM and the Miranda reveal at the end. But the game refuses to actually go into depth with Miranda and Jacobs relationship. Which sucks. Imo

[spaciebabie]

god i want ta sell my art

[bangcakes]

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[rukafais]

i think a thing i really like about the drizzt series is that generally the more okay someone is with killing people or being killed or both to the point they are defined by it somehow, the more fucked up and traumatized they are in their own special way, and boy you get to see that in so many flavors as the series rolls on and they introduce more people

and this absolutely does not exclude the protagonist whose name is on the cover, even though he downplays his own trauma constantly

[thornsnvultures]

idc if someone writes fan fiction then goes on to publish an original work. it happens all the time and some of it's great! but to write in two side characters with the names natasha and clint? like girl...🙄

[fleshdyke]

ahsgsjaugejwjg

[yandereshingeki]

writing fanfic is so hard sometimes cause i try my best to stay in my own corner but knowing i have mutuals and followers and other people i dont even know of looking at my fics is very embarrassing to me. Its very hard

[batz]

thank u for agoraphobia advice it seems the general consensus is sorta just. going outside . which isnt awesome but also totally understandable ig ! but. A

[apoapsis]

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