#if you told me a month ago i’d be leaving this community i’d have been devastated but now?

[unicornofgt]

alright, i have come to the decision i am keeping this blog up as an archive and leaving the gt tumblr community for the foreseeable future.

when i made my post about chamomile-g-tea’s damaging treatment of my story, gtms, my goal was to acknowledge the situation so i could hopefully move forward and restore gtms/my blog as mine again, without her influence. and while i anticipated backlash, some of the responses were just...downright disturbing. lots of comments echoed a victim-blaming sentiment that i am responsible for the emotional and creative damage done to me by another person because ‘why didn’t you just say no or tell her to stop?’ not only does this ignore the several attempts i did make to express discomfort and set boundaries—which were not respected—but even if i didn’t manage to express a ‘no’, that doesn’t make what happened ok; it doesn’t erase the year of crippling pressure and guilt i lived with and still struggle to shake daily. realizing that so many people in this community think otherwise is just...disturbing. it’s disturbing. that’s the only word i can think to use.

the response to all this does not make me feel safe being here—that’s what this situation has unfortunately showed me: that the audience i hoped to allow to view my reclaiming process would also contain the same crowd who make me feel so unsafe—and why the fuck would i let those people see something as personal as that? why would i let them see anything? it’s made me understand i can’t continue to heal myself and my writing if i am posting it for other people, especially harmful people. and even though it turned out this way, i’m glad i gave it a shot; that i made that post as an effort to see if it was even possible or worth it to restore this space—even if the answer was no! absolutely fucking not!—because it saved me from even more time spent sharing my work with people who do not respect me as a person or a creator. i’m glad i tried, however much it sucked, because it allowed me to understand: it is not just one person in this community i feel unsafe with, but a solid percentage of the community at large that i just cannot healthily engage with, and no amount of blocking will fix that.

but of course this is not the only situation that showed me this community’s true colors—the dismissive or outright aggressive response to the calling out of racism in our tropes has also been deeply disturbing. to clarify, there is no problem in identifying with and finding comfort or catharsis in problematic tropes such as the pet trope, but there is a problem with using that comfort to make others feel unsafe and speak over people of color. and the solution to this trope problem is very simple—generally apply critical thinking skills to the media you enjoy, and tag your shit properly (dead dove, particularly when the giant owner/abuser doesn’t face consequences and/or if the abused/abuser fall in ‘love’—dead dove is not actually currently used in this community, that’s the problem). but rather than taking this as an opportunity to listen and improve, it was instead used as a chance to lash out at and make clear that poc are not welcome in this community and come secondary to the feelings of white creators and readers.

over the last few years, this community has fostered and been exposed for bigotry such as terfs, ableists, racists, etc, and especially in the current political era, this is no longer a community i want to share my work with or even just lurk in. and i know on the surface this community seems progressive, but take a better look and you’ll find members of the community doing and saying…questionable things, or keeping quiet and enabling their friends who do and say questionable things because they would rather be passive and polite than be genuinely kind and compassionate through active accountability.

of course this is the risk you take interacting with any person ever—but it’s especially taxing to look around at such a small, close knit community you know is riddled with these problems and wonder if the people making innocent posts are actually harmful; if they prioritize their comfort over the safety of marginalized people, if they even see you as a full person, and for me, personally—if they are willing to overlook consent to blame you for your trauma and defend the person who inflicted it. it’s taxing to explain basic basic concepts to strangers over and over in a place that prides itself on being a safe space, where people just have fun and mentally escape from irl hardships. it’s taxing to ride out shitty, hateful treatment when you are just simply one person (voluntarily providing free services btw) with only so much energy and fucks to give. it is not worth the strain it puts on you as a person, nor is it your responsibility to sit there and accept it, and i am not the only creator in this community who feels this way. we are fucking tired.

quite simply, this is not a community i feel comfortable participating in or sharing anything with. and that’s a shame, because there are wonderful, creative and caring people here who i have enjoyed sharing this space with, and maybe someday i’ll give this community another chance, but currently it’s just not worth the time of day. and i want to make it clear: my leaving is not simply because of just one person or just one situation—that i could handle—it is the community itself that is the root problem; that continues to be harmful, in multiple contexts—that is the reason why i and several other creators are leaving for greener pastures and more enjoyable communities—or just simply for a fucking moment’s worth of peace, because lord knows you won’t find it here.

[hawkinsmethlab]

Dustin is quiet on the ride to his house.

Unusual, but nothing unheard of, especially when he’s thinking hard about something. From what Steve had been able to pick up before he’d dropped off Mike and Lucas, there’s a lot going on in the Dumpsters and Dangers department.

Steve is half-tempted to ask him about it, even though he won’t understand a single word, just to see Dustin get excited about something. Not that he’d ever admit it to the kid’s face, but he’s missed him a bit. Ever since he started up Hellfire it’s been “Eddie this” and “Eddie that.” Give him a break.

But, it’s a bad listening day, and Steve’s really just trying to hear the commercial on the radio over the sharp ringing in his right ear. It’s one that plays a million times a day and he knows it by heart at this point, but that kind of makes it worse. Just means he knows when he’s missing a word or a sound effect.

But it’s fine. He’s handling it. The constant ringing used to make him feel like he was going insane, especially on bad days like this where it’s like a physical presence in his head that leaves him feeling lopsided, like the Upside Down itself is pulling on him. Coming and going in piercing waves that block out any other noise, no matter how loud or how close.

Robin thinks it’s a problem.

“I’m dealing with it,” he’d told her, both of them on her bed with her history textbook in his lap. She had a test on Monday and sure, Steve wasn’t the best student, but he’d helped Nancy study a million times.

“Sure,” Robin said. “Except that you aren’t. You’re avoiding it, and those are two very different things. Do I need to pull out my dictionary and beat you over the head with it?”

“Which one, you have like, seven in here.”

“Maybe we can try them all just to see what sticks.” Then, she’d folded herself over the edge of her bed to rummage around in her bag. “But also, I was just thinking, maybe we could give this a try?”

She handed him a folded up piece of paper, biting her lip. Steve took it, skeptical, and unfolded it to see a poster for the Bloomington community center that read American Sign Language Lessons.

At Steve’s extended silence of like, a second, she continued, “I thought we could do it together. For fun. Really up our trash talk game.”

Steve had just stared at it, dread settling low in his stomach like a sack of rocks. He dropped the poster on the bed. “Thanks, but neither of us are deaf. We don’t need it.”

She’d sighed. “Steve--”

“‘In which battle was Napoleon defeated?’”

“Waterloo, easy, but listen to me. ASL isn’t just for deaf people. Besides, you don’t have to wait until you can’t hear anything at all to start learning. I mean, you could, that’s the whole point of the language, but I don’t think you would handle it very well.”

“Rude.”

“I’m just saying.” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe we could even get some of the kids into it. I bet Dustin would--”

“No, Robin.” It came out a bit more harsh than he’d meant it, a little scared and he hated that. He crossed his arms just in case his hands decided to start shaking. “Just. Can we drop it?”

Robin, being Robin and he loved her for it but Jesus, leaned forward on her elbows. Steve raised his legs a little to hide the textbook. He wouldn’t put it past her to use this as some kind of con to cheat. Not that she needed to, she’s a genius.

“Steve,” she said, “you can’t just not tell them forever. Eventually, one of them is going to figure it out, and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather tell somebody something like that on my own terms.”

“I’m not not telling them,” he insisted. “It just hasn’t come up.”

“In five months? Or no, you said Billy is when it got really bad and that was a year ago. There hasn’t been a single moment in all that time where someone hasn’t noticed something different?”

Sure they had. A few different times. But, he’d always been kind of air headed and spacey, even before his concussions so it was easy enough for them to just brush it off as Steve being Steve. “I thought I was here to help you study.”

Robin looked at him like he was one of her crossword puzzles. “I’m just trying to understand why you told me and no one else. That’s all.”

“That’s...different.”

What did she want him to say? That to tell her had been one of the scariest moments of his life, had made him miss the demodog-infested tunnels, had made him feel like he needed a bat in his hands? That saying it, any of it, out loud had left him feeling like he needed to hurl? That the thought of telling anyone else who wasn’t her, as wild as that was for someone he’d met six and a half months ago, left him on the edge of a fucking panic attack?

Yeah, sure, he’d get right on that.

Robin stared at him a little longer before she leaned back, the fight gone. “Fine.” She reached over and grabbed the poster, folded it back up and put it back in her bag. “Just promise me you’ll give it some thought? Even just a little?”

“Scout’s honor.” He held up his hand.

“You were never a scout. And that’s the wrong hand.”

“I went to summer camp that one time!”

“That’s not the boy scouts, Steve!”

It’s been three days since then, and as much as he would like to forget about the whole thing, he’s been kind of agonizing over it. Over what Robin had said, about them figuring it out on their own. Would that be better? Worse?

Either option leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Makes him want to dig Billy up from his grave just to put him back in it. Him and those fucking Russians.

There’s a slap on his arm. “Steve!” Dustin’s glaring at him. “Jesus, finally. You just passed my house.”

Oh. Whoops. “My bad.” He pulls into a random driveway to turn around. “Don’t have to shout, man, car’s only so big.”

“I said your name like six times.”

Steve sighs and wishes for about the millionth time that his tinny-whatever-Owens-had-called-it had a dial so he could turn it down. Or off, really, that’d be great. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little distracted. Some--work thing that Keith’s on my ass about.”

He pulls up in front of Dustin’s house and debates getting out. On any other day he’d be happy to walk him to the door and talk to Mrs. Henderson, but that usually leads to her inviting (or ordering) him to stay for dinner, and while his stomach is more than on board for whatever she’s whipped up, his head has the louder argument.

“Alright, man,” he says and cuts off the radio. “I’ll see you later.”

Dustin doesn’t move. He’s got his backpack on his lap and a loose grip on the door handle, but that’s it. He almost looks...nervous?

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dustin nervous before.

“What’s up?” Steve asks. “Your mom pissed at you or something?”

Dustin scoffs. “Please, I’m an angel.”

“Only in her eyes. Come on, what’s bugging you? Something one of the guys said? A kid at school? Some sort of mathematical nerd thing that’s got you stumped?” He gasps. “It’s not Suzie, is it, I swear to god--”

Dustin looks almost scandalized at that. “No. What? No. Nothing like that. I’m just--” He’s suddenly back to nervous. He starts picking at the zipper on his backpack, takes his hand off the door. “I’m just not sure how to--”

After a few more seconds of stuttering silence, Steve rolls his eyes. “Dustin, just spit it out. Whatever it is, you can talk to me. I mean, I can’t promise how helpful talking to me will be, with all the stuff you guys get up to but hey, I can at least try, right?”

Dustin sighs and turns in his seat to face Steve more fully. He seems to steel himself before saying, “Okay. I just want to say, before we move forward, that I’m not mad.”

Oh. Not exactly what he was expecting. “...Okay? I’m not either.”

“And I still think you’re cool or whatever, and we’ll still be friends no matter what.”

Steve nods, completely lost. “Right.”

“Because society can say whatever the fuck it wants!” Dustin is yelling suddenly. “And they can go on and on about the bible and whatever the hell Reagan is talking about, but you’re my friend, dammit! You’re my friend!”

“Whoa, Dustin!” Steve raises his hands, both to calm him down and maybe to protect himself a little. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dustin takes a deep breath. “I’m talking about how you’re--” He looks around, as if they weren’t alone in the car, then whispers, “About how you’re gay.”

Steve blinks, slowly. There was no way he heard that right. Right? “You think I’m what?”

“I know,” Dustin says. He puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder in what he assumes is supposed to be comforting. “I know that you’re gay and I just want to tell you that it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Steve leans back and stares at him. Dustin leans with him, keeping his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m not gay.”

“You don’t have to hide from me anymore,” he says. “I love you, you’re my friend, one of my best friends, and nothing is gonna change that.”

“Well, that’s great and I appreciate it, but I’m still not gay.”

“Yes.” Dustin nods solemnly. “You are.”

Steve laughs. A short one, like a gunshot, and pinches the bridge of his nose. When Robin had told him about people drawing their own conclusions, she probably hadn’t imagined something like this. God, he can’t ever tell her about this. “Oh my god. Okay. What, uh, what gave me away?”

“Well, really, you shouldn’t feel too bad. I don’t think anyone else has noticed.”

“Hmm.”

“But you’ve just been kind of out of it lately. Distracted more, like right now, driving me home, or when we watch movies. Don’t think I didn’t see you staring at Harrison Ford. Raiders of the Lost Ark and Star Wars, dude.”

“Now hold on, that’s not--”

“And then, back at Thanksgiving, when my mom was telling you that story about me and Suzie and you just looked so uncomfortable--”

Because Steve hadn’t had a single clue what she was talking about.

“--plus, I’ve seen the way you look at Eddie so--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait.” Steve scoffs. “How I look at Munson? The Freak.”

“Well, yeah, it’s like you’re being tortured or something.” He shrugs. “It’s kind of romantic, honestly.”

Jesus Christ. “Okay. Wow.” This is worse than every Upside Down encounter combined. “Dustin, I will repeat: I am not gay. There’s an explanation for all of those things, but it doesn’t involve my sexuality in any way. Got it?”

Dustin raises an eyebrow, totally not believing him. Finally, he leans back. Crosses his arms. “Alright then, I’m listening.”

Whenever he did let himself picture how telling one of the kids would go, this hadn’t been what he’d imagined. But really, this has already gone so terribly, so how could it possibly get worse?

(Dustin could look at him like he’s broken, like he doesn’t recognize him, could tell him that he doesn’t trust Steve to watch his back, could start treating him differently or avoiding him, he’s already hanging out with Munson more, why not just abandon him altogether--)

“Alright.” He runs a hand through his hair before settling it on the bottom of the wheel, gripping it so tight his knuckles go sheet white. “So. Yeah, I’ve been distracted and not...listening as well.”

“Because you’ve been thinking about--”

“Nope!” Steve closes his eyes. Deep breaths and quick prayer to not kill a child. “It’s because I literally can’t listen as well as I used to. I--I have hearing loss.”

His second time saying it out loud to another person and it’s met with a similar kind of gut-turning silence. Steve watches Dustin’s face go through several rapid changes before settling on something confused, his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows low.

“Oh.”

Then he looks mad.

“You have what? Dude!” He starts slapping Steve across his arm. “Since when?”

“Since--Jesus, man, stop! Since the mall fire, okay?”

Dustin freezes and Steve does too, the guilt like ice in his chest. He looks at Dustin and knows he’s thinking about the elevator and the bunker and the sizzling of human flesh under a fucked up cattle prod. It had been a tough summer for all of them, but Steve won’t ever be able to forget how Dustin had sat next to him in his car, just like this, trembling when he told Steve about how he was having nightmares. About how he thinks he might have killed that guy, and what did that make him?

A hero, Steve had told him. You saved our lives.

“If I hadn’t--” Dustin starts.

“Cutting you off there, Henderson. This,” Steve waves a hand around his face, “is not your problem. Okay? It has nothing to do with you.”

Dustin looks so small then, so lost, and Steve feels his heart twist. He reaches over and ruffles his hair. “It’ll be okay. I can still hear out of my right ear, so I’ve got that going for me.”

Dustin frowns. “Does anyone else know?”

“Only you and Robin. I just...haven’t found the right time.”

“The right time being when? It’s been months. If we’d known, we could have helped you.”

Just like with Robin, he doesn’t have a good answer. Doesn’t really have any answer, and doesn’t know when he will. “I’ll get around to it. Sometime. But,” he locks eyes with Dustin, “you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone until I’m ready.”

“Steve--”

“Promise me, Dustin.” He stares him down. “I’m dead serious.”

Dustin sighs, but nods. “Alright.”

“On your mom’s life?”

Dustin recoils. “Dude, you’re bringing my mom into this?” Then, “Alright, fine, I swear on my mother’s life. Cross my heart and hope to die and all that shit, I won’t tell a soul.”

“Thanks.” Steve claps him on the shoulder. “Now get out.”

“Does Robin know you’re gay?”

“What?” Robin can never know about this conversation. “Dude, no, I’m not gay!”

“So you are dating Robin.”

“I’m not dating anyone! Definitely not Robin, and I don’t have any kind of crush on Munson or anyone else!”

“But I swear, the way you look at him--”

“I hate his guts, now get out or I’ll hold your hat hostage.”

With a proper amount of grumbling, Dustin manhandles his backpack and steps out. He goes to shut the door, but pauses. “You know, you saved my life too. I’ve got your back no matter what. Okay?”

His eyes sting, so he itches his nose. Clears his throat to make sure it won’t crack when he says, “Yeah, Dustin, I know. You too.”

The next second he’s gone and Steve, alone in his car, is left to think that maybe...ASL lessons might not be so bad.

[nexility-sims]

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 / ❛ boy crazy ❜ part 1 (@armoricaroyalty)

❝ The Lover's Gala was the Armorican Queer Front's biggest annual event and 2044 was the 25th Anniversary. The organization's communications team had spent months putting out stories about the gala and the celebrities and members of the royals family expected to attend, trying without much success to turn the event into a major cultural major. Overnight, Princess Zofia (and her new boyfriend) blew them all out of the water. It was only his second time in Armorica, and the first time they'd appeared in public together since the funeral. It was only natural that they landed on the front page of every newspaper in the country, the gala (and the work done by the AQF) a vague footnote after paragraphs upon paragraphs breathlessly speculating about the intimate details of the lovebirds' long-distance relationship. "

♥ shoutout to gabe for pitching this very fun idea, as well as for the title card, the contextual prose, and, of course, my beloved daughter miss zofia augusta st. fleur !!!!!!! she's my favorite barbie doll & has been for a long time :^) i guess i love and adore my son as well, but nonetheless. this is special in part because it's the first time i've written them speaking outside of a parody piece that will never see the light of day. anyway, enjoy this super premature dialogue-inclusive, full-color sneak peak of Them™

PART 2

TRANSCRIPT:

{Light music, overlapping conversations}

[Z] It’s gotten so long since December!

[R] Anything for you.

[Z] Anything at all? Promise?

[R] On my life.

[Z] So ... Can we leave then?

[R] Well, that’s actually your call—

[Z] Okay, let’s leave right now!

[R] We’ve been here for only a short while, Fia.

[R] Even less if you count the “restroom break.”

[Z] That was worth it, and no one even noticed.

{Knocking}

[Z] Occupied!

[Z] Anyway, Hannah’s still here. Even Pidge. Et cetera. We can go.

[R] They walked out ten minutes ago—Hannah with Hugo, Margaret following Arthur. All through a servant’s door. Very conspicuous.

[Z] Did they? Huh. So they did.

{Rui laughs}

[Z] Look, if we leave now, it’ll be perfect. It’s barely nine o’clock. We can go back to the city, change clothes, go dancing—!

{Imaginary club music thudding} [Z&R V.O.] Party all night—bet you don’t believe me, but we actually do have good clubs [Rui snickers] or, like, one I like a lot—then I get a cheeseburger—[no pickles]—right! Oh, remember that poor cashier in Nakawe? You sure told him. [“Plain” means plain.] My hero! Anyway, then you carry me and my sore feet to bed. Ideal night.

[Z] You can keep this on, actually. Maybe ditch the jacket.

[R] Undo another button or two?

[Z] Of course. [Soft sigh] You get me.

[Z] The rose is also a must.

[R] It’s for you—a keepsake.

[Z] Aw. Our first appearance and our first Valentine’s Day ...

[R] A sign, probably. Meant to be.

[Z] Romance novel worthy. I’d read it.

[R] The boxes are checked: excitement, fate, many graphic—

[Z] No! Erotic. {Repeats in Armorican} Memorize that one.

{Murmuring}

[R] Do you think I should’ve worn a tie this evening?

[Z] What?

[R] If we were home, obviously not. But, Armorica is ... People here seem to care a lot about unnecessary things. So, was that a misstep?

[Z] {Laughs}

[Z]  Pfft. Hugo didn’t even have his jacket on.

[R] {Scoff} I am not Hugo.

[R] I want to make a good impression—on your family, really. This visit is different. They’re all, for better or worse, paying attention to me.

[Z] Are you kidding? Mission accomplished. [Z] Trust me, they love you! Now, come on, let’s go already—!

[maybeimamuppet]

hello everyone

welcome to my birthday party

for those of you who don’t read picking teams and didn’t see today is my third writing anniversary so i just wanted to take a second to thank all of you in a little more depth than i could fit in an authors note.

around this time exactly three years ago i was getting ready to post my first ever oneshot, panic texting my friends and wondering how this would go. and even though i physically cannot bring myself to read that version of i should’ve told you anymore i still just. open it and look at it sometimes. and appreciate it for being what began all of this.

i’ve never been one to stick with hobbies for longer than a few months and i was fully expecting this to be one of them. i thought it would be something i did for fun for six months or so and then dropped like everything else. i thought nobody would read my things or comment or leave kudos or anything like that.

but now three years later i have 295 followers across all my platforms. around 73,930 hits. 3230 kudos on ao3 alone. so many comments. so much love. i have a community here that i never expected to have.

whether you’ve been here for my whole three years or just found me recently, whether you’re a lurker or you interact with everything i post, thank you. i do this to get the ideas out of my head, but there’s absolutely no way i would’ve ever kept going if it weren’t for all of you. seeing what you have to say about what i write, hearing what you like and what you’re excited about motivates me more than anything. it’s like fckin crack is far as my brain is concerned i can ride that high so far man

a lot has happened in these three years. i stopped posting weekly, i’ve been through a lot. i’ve grown both as a writer and a person and in spite of not being able to be as consistent or active as i want to be, you all have always been there for me. i still get comments. i still get likes and kudos and votes. and whenever i’m struggling and wishing i could write more and write faster (i’d post daily if i could yall trust me i hate this as much as you) i’m comforted knowing you’re all still there for me, and you still love these characters as much as me.

so yeah. as i get a little misty over this totally normal thing to cry about just. thank you. enjoy the birthday cake and thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here with me on this lil ride. ironically i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to have the words to express what this and all of you mean to me. thank you all for everything.

lots of love,

ezzy

[re-whump]

Glass Eden - Entertainment

your pet lady-snake can have a little borrower, as a treat contains: giant/tiny (size difference), non-human whumpee (borrower and lamia/naga, both tiny), captivity, pet trope, dehumanization, forced to fight, communication barrier, nonbinary whumpee, female whumpee. note: this is the same the piece posted on my other blog as "Snake Tank", but I'm moving the story over to this blog so I don't have to worry about """crossing a line"""" or whatever taglist @whumpsday

Poe

I threw myself against the glass one last, futile time as I heard the door on the far side of the study creak open. My fingers nearly brushed the lip of the prison I’d been placed in, nearly caught onto that ledge that might let me pry open the lid and make an escape. I was still in the air when I felt his eyes land on me. My fur stiffened as his heavy footsteps approached. His towering form blocked out what sunlight had filtered through the closed window as he sat at his desk.

“You quit that, now. You know you aren’t getting out. Unless you’d like to try speaking with me again?”

I turned to face him rather than wait for him to spin the jar I was sitting in. I slunk to the floor, drawing up my knees as if they could shield me from his . He looked annoyed this time, rather than intrigued. I shook my head and stared at my hands. It wasn’t as if I would want him to dump me into his cold hands even if he wasn’t upset. I was bruised enough.

“I don’t have anything else to say. Sir,” I said.

He rolled his eyes.

“There's no one else!" I insisted. “It’s just me, the others ran away months ago, I’m the only one left.”

It wasn’t the truth, though by now it was close. The Copper family had moved out after Mellie reported that the master of the house was now collecting dangerous, exotic pets in his showroom. It was just the most stubborn of us left, or the most foolish.

“What to do with you, then?” the master of the house hummed.

He tapped a finger on the glass thoughtfully, right behind my head, in case I needed the reminder that my skull was no larger than the tip of his finger. I grimaced and looked back up at his face, where his wide lips twisted into a grotesque smirk. I closed my eyes as they curled back and revealed his teeth. My stomach twisted as he kept talking.

“My …friends tell me your kind is more trouble than you’re worth, more often than not. But perhaps I could get some entertainment out of you?”

“Let me go, please. I’ll leave. I won’t bother you again,” I begged.

“Oh, but I do believe you owe me, little thief. How long have you been squatting here, hm?”

I slumped and curled in on myself. I had thought maybe, just maybe, if this guy cared for a zoo of strange animals, he might have a thread of compassion hiding in his oversized heartstrings. I’d—god, I had bet my life on it, hadn’t I? And now I was going to pay up.

Entertainment.

~~~

Hecate

A hand lifted away the log that I’d been curled up under.

I flinched awkwardly at the sudden light, then rolled to face the front of my enclosure. The man liked it when I “looked” at him. I couldn’t tell if he knew I was blind or not. All my eyes told me was that there was a large, blurry shadow standing over the tank. It could’ve been a tree, for all my eyes could understand.

I knew it was him though. I could sense his blazing warmth through other means. More importantly, I could smell him.

Then, the hands. The nice hands. The man. Hugh Morton.

I smelled something else, too, something new. Another person, maybe? I listened intently for another heartbeat, another guest. I didn’t want to be shown off right now. I wanted to go back to sleep.

His hand reached back down to ruffle my hair, then run a rough finger across my scales. He rumbled something about feeding and I slumped back down to crawl back to bed. I wasn't hungry enough to want to fight and for all the good these hands did, they never killed my meals for me like the last ones did.

"Don't be so fussy, Hecate, I’m giving you a treat,” he chided. The ground shook as he flicked a finger against the glass wall. “You must get bored lying around in there all night.”

I huffed and and backed into a better position, against the side of one of my ceramic caves. I was still nursing a bite on my flank from my last meal. 

I licked the air and frowned as Hugh slid open one half of the wall. This prey was not a creature I knew. Hugh’s hands dangled a warm shadow by a long tail, then flicked it into the soil and the prey squeaked as it landed. It didn’t smell like a rat or any other rodent I’d encountered before.

It did smell afraid.

It already understood it was being hunted. I didn’t like that. Scared meals fought back. I had scars to prove it.

Hugh scoffed in annoyance as the creature scrambled towards the opening in the glass. He knocked it back into the enclosure several times while I waited for a chance to strike.

“Don't make me break your legs," Hugh sighed.

The creature stopped moving. Strange. Its little heart was hot and hammering. Was it trained? Why would anyone take the time to train food? Maybe it was simply afraid of Hugh’s voice. 

I took advantage of its stillness and lunged. It turned to run in the split-second before we collided. It slammed into one of my open arms. I fumbled as it flailed, then got myself curled around it anyway.

It felt strange against my scales. Not furry. Not naked. Synthetic. Was it wrapped? Humans wrapped their food, but not mine. They used those crinkling papers. This was wrapped in something soft.

Was it clothed?

I hesitated in my confusion and the prey bit back. Something long and sharp stabbed in between two ventral scales. I flinched, hissing, and the prey slipped away. It left the sharp thing behind, but it didn’t bleed. I put a hand on the sharp thing and realized it wasn’t a tooth. It had some kind of handle. Plastic. The point was metal. Some kind of tiny knife? I swayed uncertainly and let the little creature run.

What was he feeding me?

~

Poe

It had never occurred to me that there might be peoples other than humans and my own kind living in this world. I wished I had the time to find out more about her.

The caged creature I had been placed with was, as most things were, comparatively massive. Its front was that of a vaguely humanoid woman, small, but still more than twice the size of my own top half. Her eyes were vacant and unfocussed. She was pale, fat, and lined with scars that told me she had much more experience than myself in fighting. 

The bulk of her body was what truly scared me. She was a python that trailed lazily across the near half of the terrarium. She was coiled, so I could only guess at her true length, but her girth was easy to make out. I regularly crawled through tunnels narrower than this snake, making it all too easy to understand what would happen to me. That the master of the house had returned my thumbtack seemed like a joke. I had no prayer here. This would be a cruel combination of all the worst deaths I'd been taught to fear—caught, crushed, and consumed.

As entertainment!

I wanted to refuse him the satisfaction. I let myself lie down and cry as the master of the house threw me back into the dirt with an unambiguous threat. I might as well. No one else would know to mourn me for weeks, even months.

It would turn out that my inborn will to survive was stronger than my desire to spite the host I'd lived under for so many years. I rolled out of the way, only a split second two late, as the snake woman pounced. She caught me in the crook of her elbow then shoved me into a wall of scaled muscle. The python whipped around me before I could take a breath. I barely had the space to think, never mind resist. It was sheer luck that wedged my thumbtack between two plates of her underbelly.

And it was enough. She spasmed and let go of me.

I fell forward into the dirt, coughing to refill my aching lungs. I don’t think she had left any part of me unbruised, though didn’t waste time taking inventory of my injuries.

“Hey, don’t let it get away now, girl, get up!"

I scowled up at the master of the house as I pushed onto my feet. There was nowhere for me to get away to, not while he was leering over the open door.

I didn't understand him.

I didn't understand how a thinking creature such as himself, with all his power and all his resources, would resort to blood sport for entertainment. The study I'd spent my life beneath had a beautiful library. Page after page told of the world's endless mysteries, of beauty and majesty and life for him to go out and pursue. And he would choose to spend his time watching some monster eat me alive.

I saw the snake-woman moving out of the corner of my eye. My stomach twisted at the utter silence of her movement over the dirt even before she started sliding towards me, and then it was like a switch went off in my head. Gone was higher thought, blown away by the sheer force of the ancient instinct to run.

The terrarium was full and well-decorated, with plenty of greenery both faux and alive as well as several dark spaces to hide. I doubted any would shelter me, this place had been built for her. 

I had nowhere to go and I ran and I ran and I hit the glass and I ran and there was a branch so I climbed it and I reached the ceiling and there was more glass and I turned around and there she was crawling after me and I jumped and her hand brushed my leg and I kicked and she fell  around me like an avalanche and it was over.

Her long body surrounded me and as soon as I moved, she struck. Walls of scales encased me again and this time, no tack would save me. Everything went dark.

Several seconds passed. She loosed her grip. I heard the master’s muffled voice droning through her flank. I took a breath and shuddered. Long minutes of silence passed and the knot she’d wrapped me in fell away. 

I admit I didn’t know much about snakes, but she didn’t seem to be very good at this.

I sprung to my feet, desperate to get at least a few inches between us again, but her hand wrapped around my face. She grabbed the back of my shirt’s neckline with her other hand and I thrashed as she pulled me off the ground.

Slowly, her palm pulled away from my face. She rubbed two fingers over my eyes, traced the curve of my nose, and drew a thumb across my lips. I bit down as hard as I could. She barely flinched, just wiped a little blood off on the side of my face.

“Beb?” she croaked.

Her blank eyes narrowed in concentration as her tongue flicked out of her mouth and brushed against my nose. Tasting me. Her lips twitched. I felt cold.

“No, please! Please, please, please, kill me first, please,” I cried.

She tilted her head to the side. Her tongue flickered twice more and both times I flinched. She babbled something in a tortured voice. 

“Please,” I begged. “If you can even understand me, please, just kill me before you eat me. I don’t want to suffer.” 

She frowned and hissed several times. My blood trembled through my veins. She slowly shaped her tongue around some word I did not know. She patted my head and sighed, then set me gently on the dirt beside her and slithered away.

~

Hecate

The prey had the face of a person.

The little thing was clever enough to talk, but not smart enough to understand me. They were small like a hatchling. They ran on legs like a bird. 

They screamed and cried so once Hugh gave up on watching me eat, I let the little one have some space, whatever they were.

I hoped they would come back to me. They were very warm. Like the sun, but in a person. Like food. Like Hugh.

Like this lovely little cave in the back of the tank. I curled up and burrowed into myself for a cozy rest.

I hoped they wouldn’t try to kill me while I slept.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Pomegranate Ink: XXVII

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: After Naoya Zenin reveals some surprising news, you pay a visit to your family home.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.1k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: i KNOW y’all have been waiting for this one 😩‼️ also can we talk about how long this fic is getting because it’s a little concerning atp

“Wow, the two of you look awful,” Naoya said, grimacing dramatically at you and Maki. Maki crossed her arms at him, but you did not react. “At least your face isn’t ruined, huh, Y/N? I’d feel a lot more annoyed if it had been.”

“I don’t see why that would annoy you,” you said.

Of course, Naoya had been in his study, the pretty notes of some song from a movie wafting through the air a sure indicator that he was bored and playing his piano again. His dedication to the instrument was one of his few redeeming qualities, or maybe it was not a particular respect for the craft but something else entirely that drove him to the incessant practice. Either way, it had been easy to find him, and since he was the biggest obstacle in your path at the moment, this was a good thing.

“I’m the one who stuck my neck out for you, you know,” he said. “Wasted about three months’ worth of paychecks on you, too, so you really should be thanking me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said. He raised his eyebrows.

“You really don’t know? I thought that that was for sure the reason why you were here,” he said. “Is it not?”

“I came to go through the weapons’ warehouse,” Maki said. “Megumi gave me permission already, so don’t think of stopping me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. If that’s what you want, then feel free to go right ahead and do it,” he said innocently. You furrowed your brow. The victory felt too easily won, but when he noticed your befuddlement, he only snorted. “Who am I to disobey my clan head?”

You tried to communicate with your gaze to Maki all the words you could not say aloud, not in front of him. Be careful. They’re planning something. He’s not doing this out of the goodness of his own heart.

She blinked at you slowly before turning to leave. I know.

“I came to listen to you play the piano, but I suppose I’ve done that already,” you said. “It was nice. I recognize the song — it was in that movie that came out a couple of years ago, wasn’t it? At the end?”

“That’s right,” he said. “You’ve seen it?”

“Yes, of course I have,” you said. “Anyways, that’s not what’s important. What did you mean when you said that you wasted your paychecks and stuck your neck out for me?”

“Always straight to the point with you, isn’t it? You might want to sit down for this one,” he said, standing up and patting his piano stool. You gave him an irritated look. He rolled his eyes and sat back down, obviously picking up on the fact that you weren’t going to take him up on the offer.

“You know that after that whole mess in Shibuya, the higher ups placed orders for the executions of Suguru Geto, Masamichi Yaga, and Yuji Itadori?” he said. You nodded.

“Yes, and they criminalized unsealing Gojo. What an idiotic joke,” you said. “Like Gojo isn’t the only one who stands a chance at saving all of us.”

“How hard would you laugh if I told you that there was a fourth person who they were going to send an execution order out for?” he said. Ice shot through your veins, and you suddenly felt very heavy. You didn’t want to ask him, but you knew you would. You knew you had to, even if the answer was in the question itself.

“Who else?” you said. He smirked, clearly satisfied with the distress in your eyes.

“Y/N L/N has been found to be in league with Ryomen Sukuna. She can now be considered a curse user and is therefore sentenced to death,” he parroted. “They were going to send Yuta Okkotsu after you, too. He’s your classmate, so you should know as well as anyone that that’s a fight you couldn’t hope to win.”

“In league with Sukuna?” you said, your tongue leaden in your mouth as you gagged on the taste of the name. “Did they—?”

Had they somehow found out about the Binding Vow you almost made? Was that why they wanted to execute you? Or was it something else? Was it because Sukuna refused to kill you? Had they confused reluctant need with genuine alliance?

“You pushed for the postponement of Itadori’s execution. That was all the proof they needed; well, in truth, even if there wasn’t any proof, they would’ve figured out some crime to accuse you of. You’re more resurrectionist than sorcerer, and the last thing the higher ups need is some brat of a girl running around and digging up graves at her leisure,” he said.

“That’s not how Composition works,” you said, still trying to come to terms with the fact that you were such a threat to the higher ups that they had wanted to put an order of execution out for you. The death penalty, by all rights, should’ve hung over your head at the moment.

“Maybe not, but you have to understand that for them, there was no use in putting an execution order out for any of your allies while you were still out and about, you see? Their executions would be meaningless as long as you were there in the back of their minds, capable of using Composition to undo their actions,” he said.

“Like I said, that’s not how Composition works. I can’t just revive people whenever I feel like it. I don’t even know how I did it the first time,” you said crossly.

“Then they should be even more pleased that they spared you, eh? Now there’s no chance of you bringing old Yaga back,” he said. “Not that you would’ve had one in the first place. I promised the higher ups I’d keep a tight leash on you. That’s why they decided not to go ahead with the order — I vouched for you. No one else. Just me. Remember this, Y/N L/N: your family did not say a word in your defense. When you were sentenced to death, it was me, Naoya Zenin, who spoke up for you.”

“My family didn’t even…they would have had me executed?” you said. What was this twist? How could it be that Naoya Zenin had been your greatest ally in that kind of a conflict? Had they truly abandoned you to that extent, or was there some other, greater endgame that they were plotting at? You didn’t understand. Or was Naoya lying? There was a chance, but in truth, you doubted he would lie about this kind of thing. It served him no purpose for you to hate your family, after all.

“Of course they would’ve,” he said. “They don’t care about you. Nobody cares about you. You’re mostly alone in the world, little L/N. What a terrible thing it is…and by the way, the Kamos didn’t mind too much, either. It was the Zenins who stood up for you.”

“You must’ve had a reason to do that,” you said. “I know you better than to think you did it just because you grew a sudden interest in fairness. Why did it matter to you whether I lived or not?”

“It would’ve been my money down the drain if you died,” he said. “I paid a lot to have you, you know.”

“You paid a lot to do what?” you hissed, your rational thoughts disappearing with this new reveal. “Answer me quickly, and enough with the word games. What do you mean by that?”

“Your mother is such a bitch,” he said, sighing loftily. “She cried and screamed at your father, begged him not to do it, but of course she went ignored. I used to admire how docile and quiet she was, but I suppose you had to have inherited that nasty temperament from somewhere, hm? Anyways, your father had your cousins drag her upstairs so that we could continue our discussion.”

“Naoya,” you warned him.

“That’s no way for a woman to speak to her future husband,” he said. “I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t let it happen again.”

“Future husband? What about Noritoshi?” you said.

“It’s amazing, the kinds of alliances men are willing to break when offered a large enough sum in return,” he said. “Your engagement to that bastard boy is all but dissolved at this point, which leaves you free to marry me instead.”

“That’s why you defended me,” you said. “Not because you cared about me, but because you only even wanted to marry me to strengthen your position in the clan. If I ended up being a criminal, it would reflect poorly on you.”

“Precisely,” he said, reaching over and tapping you on the forehead. “Gold star for you, little L/N. You know, I don’t prefer you all too much. Your pretty face and Reverse Cursed Technique are your only saving graces; what a relief, then, that you didn’t lose either in Shibuya.”

“Did they see some kind of benefit to an alliance with the Zenins?” you said, casting about for an alternate explanation, something other than the obvious one. “Is that why my clan did it? Did they engage us because they’re gaining some integral advantage from it?”

“Maybe you’re not that intelligent,” he said. “No surprise, I mean you are a woman after all. Let me put it for you plainly, girl: your father soldyou. There’s no other way to say it; I gave him money, and in return, he gave me your hand. That’s honestly all there was to it.”

Sold. You had been sold like some kind of broodmare to the highest bidder, passed from man to man like your heart had no place in the equation. Noritoshi. Naoya. Who was next? Which next suitor would give your family the upper hand? Did it even matter to them how you would be treated? Obviously not, since they had sold you to Naoya.

You hated them. You felt it deep within you, blossoming slowly but surely, a kind of anger that you could not fathom. You hated them. Your family, the ones who had locked you away for all of your childhood and were content with doing so well into your adulthood, too. Your family, the ones who had bound you to Noritoshi so securely that both you and he had choked from the constriction. Your family, the ones who had refused to heal Tullia. Your family, who had sold you to the Zenin clan. You hated them more than you had ever hated anything.

“I hope you remember what I taught you,” Naoya said, getting up once more and heading to the door, patting you on the head as he brushed past. “Three steps behind me at all times. Do you understand, or do you want me to simplify that, as well?”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing but making no motions to follow after him. “I understand.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll see you later. Please be prepared; even if we aren’t married yet, I expect you to perform your wifely duties with passion.”

The door slid shut behind him, leaving you standing alone in the study, waiting there with nothing but your hatred to warm you.

You knew what he meant by wifely duties, and this should’ve frightened you, but all it did was make you irrationally angrier. So this was what you were worth to your father: three of Naoya Zenin’s paychecks. That was it. For just the price of a few paychecks, Naoya could claim you as his own. It didn’t matter that you were the prodigy of Composition, the daughter of the resurrection or the girl who brought someone back to life or whatever other ridiculous name that people deigned to ascribe to you as they saw fit. Y/N L/N, the girl worth three months’ worth of paychecks. That was what they would have to call you from now on. For just that much, you would be in Naoya’s service for the rest of your life. You would warm his bed, you would be at his beck and call, you would elevate his station, and you would always, always walk three steps behind him.

You didn’t want that. You didn’t want to be Naoya Zenin’s wife. You didn’t care that he had saved you from execution; it wasn’t as if Yuta would’ve ever executed you, anyways. Watching you die was not something he was capable of, just as the inverse was true. Maybe it was correct that Naoya had defended you when your own family had not, but considering your family’s track record, this didn’t mean as much as it should’ve. Your family hadn’t cared about you from the moment you had exorcised that curse on the balcony and ran away from the party with Gojo.

Gojo. You wished, more than anything, that he was there. You wanted him to give you one of his special hugs, the ones he only gave you because he was too paranoid to turn his Infinity off for that long with anyone else. You wanted him to put on some stupid movie and throw popcorn in your mouth and make fun of you when you failed to catch it. He wasn’t just your teacher. He had never just been your teacher. He was — he was something else. Your family. He was your actual family, and you found you missed him. You found you didn’t care what he did, as long as he came back. He would make everything better. Just by being there, he would make everything better.

But Gojo was gone. He wasn’t there to drag you from the situation, which meant it was up to you to deal with this mess your family had thrust you into. You were the one who had to save Gojo now, but how could you do that if you could not even save yourself?

You had to be methodical about it. There were so many powerful sorcerers in the Zenin clan, and since you had sworn off Dissection and fighting as a whole, you truly stood no chance against them all. Even if you hadn’t, even if you still had Tullia and were at your peak as a Grade 1 sorcerer, there were simply too many of them for you to be able to fight them in any way that mattered.

Yet waiting, too, was dangerous. With every second that you idled in Naoya’s study, you risked his return, whereupon you’d have to do as he pleased until the next time he left you alone. This was your one opportunity at escaping, and you had to seize it or give up and regret it forever. But that was something you could not do, so whispering an apology to Maki for leaving her, you opened the door and crept through the hallways of the mansion.

You could not even use your cursed signature detection which you were so reliant on, as it was another form of Dissection, so you were much like a blind mouse scuttling through the Zenin manor and praying you did not get caught. It was eerily silent, though, not a soul in sight, and you decided it must’ve been a stroke of good fortune and nothing more sinister than that. Breaking free from the walls of the building itself, you ran through the courtyard, crushing pink petals under your feet as you sprinted at top speed before someone detected your absence.

It was not a long journey to your family’s mansion. You made it in record time, your anger fuelling you all the while. Trapped. Killed. Sold.What hadn’t they done to you and the people you loved? Because it did not just end with you and Tullia. Your mother. Maki. Gojo. Your family had been involved in the torment of every single one of those people.

The days that your mother spent shut away for birthing the failure of the clan. The whispered insults and demeaning comments about Maki and what, exactly, she was good for. The endless missions and responsibilities and deprivation of human connection placed on Gojo’s shoulders. Your family had been there for every one of these things, and even if they were not actively causing them, they were at the least complicit simply by being bystanders and letting it all happen.

Why had you allowed it? Why hadn’t you stopped them? You should’ve. You had let your family harm those you loved for so long, but you couldn’t anymore. Not in good conscience. Not when you had already lost so many. Not when you could never get some of them back. Those precious few who you still had by your side…you would not let your family do anything to them ever again.

It was your father who answered the door. He no longer seemed as intimidating as he once had. Perhaps it was because you finally saw him for who he was, what he was. This was not a man who had raised you. He had never raised you. This was not a man who loved you. He had never done that, either.

“Y/N,” your father said.

“You can stand to say my name so conversationally?” you said. “I’m surprised.”

“What are you doing here?” he said. You could hear footsteps in the background; as always, the manor was bustling. It was once a stronghold meant to protect wounded sorcerers as they were treated, but now, you could not view it as anything but a prison.

“I should be at the Zenins, right? Because you sold me to Naoya?” you said. He was silent, and you laughed. “Of course, you don’t even deny it.”

“You’d be safer with him than anywhere else,” he said.

“Safer? Maybe from the rest of the world, but what would it matter when he is the one I should fear the most? Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t be safe there. Nowhere would I be in more danger than in the Zenin mansion,” you said.

“Is that why you’ve come?” he said. “To yell at me for selling you to the Zenins? It’s been done. I can’t undo it. I’m sorry if you grew attached to Noritoshi, but this is for the good of the clan.”

“There it is,” you said. “The good of the clan. Not for me. Not for the good of Y/N. It’s always about the clan for you, isn’t it?”

“The clan is my family,” he said.

“And I am your daughter! Is that not family enough, or do I not count because my mother wasn’t a sorcerer? You’re the one who loved her enough to marry her, so why do you not then love the product of that union?” you said. “Though, it’s not like I’d ever want to be loved by you, anyways. I’d rather live a life alone than ever be loved by someone the way you claim to love my mother.”

“What do you know about love?” he said, though he was as defensive as condescending when he did.

“Yuta Okkotsu,” you said, emphasizing every syllable of the name, watching in satisfaction as a myriad of emotions flickered over his face — confusion, shock, horror, disgust, and finally anger. “That is what I know about love. Do you understand now? I love him. I love that boy, and he loves me back. I will never be the perfect, untouched piece of cattle that you desire.”

“You — you dare!” he sputtered. “We were so generous, letting you attend that school, and you spit in our faces like this? Why, I ought to—”

“Lock me away?” you said. “Or will you beat me this time? You haven’t before, but you look angry enough to try. Go on, then. Do it. Do your worst, or at least attempt to. You won’t get very far, though, I’m afraid.”

“Enough with the insolence. Come inside and go to your room,” he said.

“You asked me why I came here,” you said, opening your palm and showing him the needles which sat there, glinting a silvery blue with the cursed energy Gojo had imbued into them months ago. “This is why.”

His eyes just about bugged out of his head, causing you to smile. For a moment, he simply stared at the brilliant points, and then slowly, he raised his eyes to meet your own. You arched a brow at him, waiting for him to react.

“You don’t mean to say…” he trailed off helplessly.

“That’s right. After everything, I’ve finally come for revenge,” you said. “I am the girl you created, the girl you forsook, and I have finally returned to collect what I am owed.”

“You can’t do this,” he said, shirking back, preemptively wincing, though you hadn’t done anything yet. “Y/N, you can’t do this. We aren’t violent. There’s no justice in killing us.”

“Like I said, I’m not here for justice. I’m here for revenge,” you said. “By definition, there’s no justice to that. But I realized something on the way here: just as you don’t care for me, I don’t care for you. Perhaps this isn’t just, but that’s irrelevant. I’m going to do it regardless.”

“Don’t. Please, don’t. Attacking us is meaningless. We are a family of healers,” he said.

“Really?” you said, narrowing your eyes at him, carefully aiming your first needle and then throwing it. “That’s strange. For some reason, I can’t remember you ever healing anyone.”

At first, the rest of the L/Ns didn’t understand what was happening. One second, they were doing whatever mundane task demanded their attention, and the next, they were on the ground. It was simple for you, because your father was correct in that one thing: not a single person in your family was able to fight. It was what made you an anomaly, that you had this strength which none of the others had. Even without using Dissection, even with just the latent cursed energy left in the needles from Gojo, you knew the human body so well that you could throw the tiny weapons to stick exactly where you wanted them to. It would never work in a fair fight, but this was the furthest thing from fair or a fight.

As you got through more and more of them, they began to realize what was coming for them. They’d try to run, or hide, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t trained sorcerers, so they could never outrun you, and you didn’t need your cursed signature detection to figure out where they were hiding. None of them were very good at it, and so it was all for naught. Just like your entire life had been up until that point, their attempts to avoid your wrath were futile.

Some of them cried. Some of them begged. All of them met the same fate. You felt little sympathy for them. Hadn’t you cried? Hadn’t youbegged? But they had just stood by and watched. They had shown you no mercy, so why would you show them any in return?

There was only one person you spared: your mother, who had never done anything, who could never do anything. The woman cursed to see things she could never defend herself from; you bore no ill-will towards her. Anyways, Gojo loved her, so you would’ve let her be just for that fact alone, even if she was the worst monster in the world. But in the end, she was as trapped as you were, so how could you muster up any hatred for her? She had done the best she could. You passed by her bedroom and left her alone to sob, deciding to deal with her later.

Dragging your father’s slumped over body behind you by the back of his collar, you paid no mind to the way his arms dangled awkwardly by his sides nor to the way his head lolled back and forth with every step you took. His legs skidded against the lush carpets of the mansion, but none of that was important to you. You didn’t care. He would be in a world of hurt when he woke up, but you didn’t care.

Tossing his body into the dining room where you had thrown the rest of your paralyzed family members, you waited for him to regain consciousness. It took a few seconds, but eventually, his eyelids fluttered open. He took stock of the situation, but obviously, whatever he saw must’ve disappointed him, as he opened his mouth to argue before realizing he could not move any of his limbs.

“I wasn’t the one who cursed those needles. Gojo was, which means that the effects will last much longer,” you said. “Don’t think about disobeying me now. I chose not to kill you, but I just as easily could choose to change my mind.”

“You said you wanted revenge. If you aren’t killing us, then what kind of revenge is this?” your father said. “And where is your mother?”

“She isn’t one of you, not in the same way, so I have nothing against her,” you said. “Why would I blame a woman who can’t even heal for failing to do so? It’s a lesson you all should’ve learnt a long time ago. Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation right now if you had.”

“What do you want from us, Y/N?” your uncle said. He was your father’s youngest brother, a shallow man who was always so arrogant, walking around like he was the heavens’ gift to mankind. He thought that healing made him a god. You wondered if he still thought that now that he had been immobilized by one tiny needle. What kind of god would’ve let that happen to them?

“It’s simple,” you said. “Make me the head of the L/N clan. Swear you will obey me, no matter the situation, no matter the cost. Follow me with as much or more loyalty as you followed my father with, and I will let you live. I’m not an idiot, after all; I know how rare the Reverse Cursed Technique is, and how much better Composition is compared to the rest. It would be foolish for me to slaughter you all without taking that into account, so I’m offering you this way out, but make no mistake — I don’t need you. If any of you refuse, I won’t feel bad about killing you. If need be, I can kill all of you. It’s all the same to me.”

“You’re just a child. What would you know of heading a clan?” your uncle said.

“I don’t know anything, and I don’t care to learn, either. That’s not what’s important here. As long as you submit to me, you can continue to run your clan as you please. My only stipulation is that my orders take precedence. You must do what I say, when I say it,” you said.

For a moment, none of them said anything, so you raised one of your remaining needles. You did not even have to mime throwing it; the instant your relatives saw it, they all began to shout out their assent to your terms. You had no doubt that if they were not paralyzed, they’d be bowing as they screamed that yes, yes, they’d do it, they’d do it. They were just that brand of cowardly.

“Well, it’s easy to say things, isn’t it?” you said. “My dear uncles, you should be able to move by now, I think. Is that correct? Good. Let’s see if you were being serious about your pledge. Bring me my father.”

“What will you do to him?” your father’s eldest brother said. His son was your least favorite cousin; he had always teased you about how you could not use Composition like he could. You noticed that very boy on the ground beside him, a large wet spot in the crotch of his pants and snot all over his face. You doubted he would ever tease you again.

“Would you ever question my father like that?” you said. “I don’t think you would. Should I kill you for such a transgression?”

Your uncles didn’t complain after that, tripping over themselves to pick up your still-frozen frozen father, bringing him to your feet, setting him down in a kneel and then bowing before scrambling away from you, like you might change your mind at any second.

“Are you going to kill me now?” my father said.

“Hm. Should I?” you said.

“I know you want to,” he said. “Stop dragging it out. Just do it.”

“I do want to,” you confessed. “But that would be too easy. It doesn’t mean anything for me to kill you. I think this is worse, isn’t it? For most of my life, you hated me, just because I could not use Composition. Now, you’ll spend the rest of your life in servitude to me. It’s the best ending I can think of for someone as pathetic as you.”

“Are you serious about killing us if we disobey you?” he said.

“I am,” you said. “The next time I bring you someone to heal, you will heal them. If you ever — if you ever do what you did to Tullia again, I will kill all of you, and just as I don’t regret this, I won’t regret that.”

“We don’t deserve this,” said your cousin, the one who had pissed himself despite always being so bold in his youth. “We don’t deserve to live, but you’re letting us. You really are merciful, Y/N. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” you said. “Thank whatever deity favored you with Composition. The Reverse Cursed Technique is the only reason I’m leaving you alive. Otherwise, all of you would be dead by now.”

You knocked on your mother’s door gently, not wanting to startle her as she cried. Her wails grew louder before abruptly silencing, and you heard her feet shuffling as she made her way to the door and then opened it.

“Hello, mother,” you said. Her reddened eyes widened, still glossed over with unshed tears though they were, and then she threw her arms around you. You stood there unsurely, not used to the sight of an adult breaking down so thoroughly in front of you.

“Y/N, my Y/N,” she hiccuped. “They’re taking you from me. They’re taking you and sending you to that — that horrible creature! I tried so hard to stop them, but they refused to listen. Oh, Y/N, what will we do now? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Your life was supposed to be better than mine was.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “Nobody’s sending me anywhere. I’m the head of the clan now.”

“What?” she sniffed. “How is that possible?”

“It’s funny,” you said. “When a family’s members consist solely of healers, it’s surprisingly simple to defeat them, even if you’re by yourself, even if you can’t use your cursed technique.”

“You killed all of them?” she said.

“I threatened to, but I didn’t go through with it. I couldn’t. I’m not that kind of a person, and anyways, they are valuable. This is how the L/N clan has survived for so long: they’re just too rare to kill. Well, anyways, it’s fine. They all swore to follow me, and if I ever get even a little suspicious that they’re planning something, I’ll force them to make Binding Vows with me. It should be okay, though — as I’m sure you’ve noticed, none of them exactly have backbones of steel,” you said.

“I see,” she said. You waited for her to reprimand you, but she did not. “So, then. What will you do next?”

“The rest of the students and I are working to unseal Gojo. I’ve given up fighting for good, so after this, I’m going to go join Shoko Ieri in helping heal the last of Shibuya incident’s victims while I wait for something bigger to come up that I can help with,” you said.

“You gave up fighting?” your mother said. “Didn’t you love it so much? I remember watching you at last year’s exchange event — the one, in Kyoto I mean. You looked so happy during your match against Aoi Todo.”

“Really? Because I distinctly remember being annoyed out of my mind during that entire battle,” you muttered.

“It was like you were truly yourself,” she explained. “You’re giving that up? Why?”

“I have to. I can’t use Composition if I keep using Dissection, and I’m not quite talented enough at fighting to justify giving up healing for it,” you said. “Even if we now have the rest of the L/Ns at our disposal, I still don’t want to ever be in the scenario where I’m fully dependent on someone else to heal a person I care about. Never again.”

“Alright,” your mother said.

“Just ‘alright?’ You won’t argue with me?” you said.

“No, I won’t,” she said. “It’s not my place. If that’s what you deem to be the best course of action, then that’s what you should do.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Yes, I do believe that it’s the only way.”

“I’ll support it, then,” she said. “I’ll support you. As forever. As always.”

“I really do appreciate it, mother,” you said. “What about you? What will you do now?”

“There isn’t much for me to do,” she said. “Do you think I could…no, never mind.”

“Go on,” you said. “I’m the head of the L/N clan now, you know. Whatever you want, you can ask me for it. I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”

“Can I come with you?” she said. “I know I don’t have a technique or anything like that, but I just — I don’t want to stay here anymore. I’ll help in whatever way I can. I can make food for everyone, or clean, or whatever it is that you all need!”

“You don’t have to do any of that,” you said. “You’re my mother, so you can come and go as you please. Besides, I’m sure Gojo will be excited to see you there once he’s been unsealed, so there definitely isn’t an issue at all. Of course you can come.”

“Do you really mean it?” she said.

“Of course,” you said. “I really do.”

Taking your mother by the hand, you walked with your head held high past the rest of the L/Ns. They were the ones who flinched now, their very postures dripping with deference as you strode by without so much as acknowledging them. You saw your father’s lips part in protest when he saw your mother following after you, but after noticing the severe look on your face, he pursed them once more and ducked his head.

“I am leaving now,” you said. “And I am taking my mother with me. I trust that this house will be maintained and that, should I need assistance, I can call upon you all.”

“Yes, Y/N,” your uncle said. “It will be done.”

“Good,” you said shortly. “See to it that it is.”

With that, you nodded at your mother, who hesitantly nodded back. Then, together, you both took your first steps outside of that jail-like place, the manor which had housed you in your worst times. There was a freedom in that walk which even you had never felt before, not to mention your mother, who was gazing at the sky with a newfound appreciation for it.

“It’s strange,” your mother said. “I didn’t realize how unhappy I was until now. I think I forgot what it felt like to feel happy at all. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” you said. “It does. I know what you mean.”

“Thank you for letting me come with you,” she said. “I know I wasn’t always the best mother, but I really do love you.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “I don’t blame you for it.”

“Ah,” she said. “I see. Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me,” you said. “It’s not like that. I just did what I had to do, that’s all. It’s the most any of us can do, so it hardly warrants such praise.”

“You know, Y/N,” your mother said. “You really are a selfless girl.”

“Do you think so?” you said.

“It’s your greatest virtue,” your mother said. “I won’t claim the credit for instilling it, but I hope you’re aware of it anyways.”

“If you say so,” you said dubiously.

She didn’t know what you had almost done, how willingly you would’ve tied yourself to Sukuna. You vowed to never let her find out, and then you vowed to one day do something that actually was worthy of that kind of praise, something that proved you to be the selfless girl your mother thought you were.

Maybe that would be enough to finally redeem you.

[chrollosnenfish]

I’m just here to say

that I absolutely love Reo🥰

I know it’s been a while since the anime came out, but remembering the amount of Reo hate I saw from anime-onlies made me want to post this.

I feel like Reo was so misunderstood as a character. I saw a comment under something (I don’t remember if it was YouTube or tumblr) but someone was talking about how Reo was manipulative, possessive and not even that good of a football player, which really got on my nerves.

People tend to forget that:

He (among the stratum that Isagi was in) scored the 2nd most amount of goals (2nd only to Nagi)

He was the 10th person to clear the first stage of the second selection, while a lot of the players that we know and love were around the 15-50 range

He learned football 6 months ago, he is literally just as much of a prodigy as Nagi (just in a different way)

And about the Reo is possessive nonsense, just read Episode Nagi. I love that Episode Nagi gives the readers much more of an insight into Reo’s character and his relationship with Nagi. His anger at Nagi leaving him was definitely valid because Reo told Nagi (I forgot which chapter it was in) that he would never leave him, and then Nagi goes on and abandons him instead, without properly explaining to him why he was leaving. Though afterwards, we see that Reo was still happy for him that he was finding a place in this world, but he couldn’t express his feelings properly (they both have communication issues, but Nagi’s are a little bit worse, which makes sense since he’s only talked to Choki like his entire life).

Don’t even get me started on the people who blame only Reo for taking Nagi back in the NEL. Yes, I would rather Reo have not taken Nagi back like that, but what did you expect him to do (ngl if I was Reo I’d fold too).

Btw, no hate towards anyone, if you dislike Reo, that’s fine, but I just don’t like it when people misunderstand his character. He’s a really well-written character and I just want more people to realise it.

Also, who’s ready for the next Ep Nagi chapter🤩🤩🤩 (not me 🫠)

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

The Boxer Outside the Ring (Tommy Conlon x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Pairing: Tommy Conlon x Florist!Reader

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: N/A, unless we count tooth-rotting domestic fluff as a warning 

Summary: The first time Tommy asked me why I took care of him, mostly by patching him up after each match, I gave him a yellow rose. A few days later I found him immersed in one of Gramps books about the language of flowers. The meaning behind the yellow rose is one of the first he learned and remembered, so he could have given me one today. However, instead he gave me something far more precious.

His company.

His time.

TH Masterlist / Monster Masterlist

Tag list: @buttercup32sstuff @liliac-dreamer @vir-tual @potter-solomons @ilovemanypeople @zablife​​ @hecatemoon87​​​ @alikaheroes

Want to be tagged in the future? Send me a message or leave a comment and I’ll make sure to add ye!

Never judge a book by its cover. It’s a common saying which even applies to a man as distant and closed up as Tommy Conlon.

To be honest, I hadn’t expected much from him aside from a cold attitude and a short fuse. The stories making the rounds at the boxing school have found their way into town, even whispered among the customers when they drop by for a new bouquet of flowers. Various nicknames have been mentioned. ‘Cerberus personified’ is mentioned most. ‘Cú Chulainn incarnate’ is a common reference to the boxer among the Irish community. ‘That chap who helps out on Mondays’, however, is how Gramps used to refer to him before he learned his name.

It was a quite strange Monday about five months ago when Tommy and I first crossed paths. The weekly delivery of flowers had come in alongside an additional order for a couple of new pots. Overestimating my ability, I tried to move a cart laden with the new supplies and package material from the street onto the pavement. I pushed and pulled, but to no avail and the driver wasn’t much use either, continuing to unload the rest of the cargo.

I stiffened when a pair of rough hands appeared at the back of the cart and a gravelly voice told me: “Push it. I’ll pull.”

Without harbouring any expectations, I did what I was told.

And on to the pavement it went. 

Clad entirely in black, an imposing muscular man with eyes as blue as the ocean appeared from behind the cart. I swallowed hard and tried to make myself as small as possible because, while I was grateful for the help, an air of violence hung around him. 

“Need help?” he asked with a gentle smile on his plush lips.

Perhaps that was the moment I started to trust him.

All because of that one smile. 

“Well, if you don’t mind.” After all, it was only me since Gramps had to think about his health.

“Sure.” His expression darkened when he noticed the driver. A flicker of hardly contained anger illuminated his eyes, grown cold and full of an animalistic menace. A chill ran down my spine while I mentally made the vow to never provoke my curious helper.

He walked over to the truck, voice raised so the other man could hear him. “Shouldn’t you have done something? She has to do this by herself and you let her struggle.”

The driver remained silent, chest rising and falling quicker with each step Tommy took towards him. Fortunately, he was the target of his wrath, but I’d be just as mortified had it been me.

“There better be a colleague of yours next week who’s a little more helpful because if I see you one more time, it’ll be the last. Understood?” Tommy leaned in, making use of his imposing stature, to drive his point home twice over . 

Perhaps I should’ve said something, but all I remember feeling was relief. Maybe things would change for the better, at least in the way of being given a little more help in running the shop on my own.

Tommy nodded at the last of the supplies and plants, sitting on the street and waiting to be taken inside. “That’s the last of it?”

“Y-Yes,” the driver stammered, his complexion gone as pale as snow. He looked ready to pass out or, rather, succumb to a heart attack.

“Good. We’ll handle it from here.”

The driver rushed into the truck, started the engine, and drove off as fast as he could.

 Tommy spat on the ground and turned to me. “Ma’am, would it be alright if I help out each week here with the delivery?”

“You’ve only known me for a couple minutes.” I crossed my arms and tried to get a read on him, unsure whether he was serious or pulling my leg. “Why?”

“Because you look like you could use the help. Don’t you have colleagues, ma’am?”

“I only have my grandpa. Tell you what, I’ll let you, but under one condition.”

He narrowed his eyes, chin lifted. “Which is?”

I extended my hand as I walked over to him. “That you call me by my name from now on. I’m Y/N.”

His handshake was firm yet gentle, like he was afraid he’d break my fingers. “Tommy Conlon.”

Since then he’s been helping out every Monday morning. Combine that with a couple of dates, more than once to our favourite bakery for breakfast, and we are where we are.

Five months later, living together in the apartment above the shop.

I cringe as another surge of pain flares up in my abdomen. It truly is great being a woman. Especially the fact that each month you have to experience what Mother Nature won’t give you a receipt for so you can return it. Fortunately, Tommy took over from me earlier today so I could put on my pyjamas and curl up in bed with a cup of tea. 

After a month of unloading the weekly delivery together and gaining each other’s trust, he insisted I’d at least teach him how to use the register. However, Gramps will, as always has been the case in my absence, take care of the actual closing of the shop. It is a shame, though, I won’t get to see the customers being caught off-guard by a hulking figure clad in an apron trying his damn best to remember everything we’ve taught him about flowers and plants.

The bedroom door opens and Tommy walks in, a plastic bag from the local drugstore in his hands. He sent a text earlier saying he'd first do some groceries before heading home. “I got you pads, both for day and night.” 

I pause my series and turn onto my side to face him. Not once has he shown any sign of the discomfort most men display when dealing with tampons and the like. At first, he remained completely silent and let me browse at leisure. Yet, he now pops in the occasional question and throws around inspecting glances as if he is trying to compose a database of information essential to him. 

The mattress dips when he sits down on the edge of the bed. Brow furrowed, he pulls out one of each package. “These are the ones you use, right?”

I nod and rub his forearm. “Yeah, you bought the right ones. Good job, Tommy.”

A relieved smile spreads on his lips. “I’m more observant than you think.” He runs his hand through my hair, features soft. “Need anything? Medicine? Tea?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. These cramps won’t kill me.”

He grabs Bun Bun, the light brown stuffed rabbit he gave me for my birthday recently, and removes the heatable component in its belly. “I’ll be right back.”

Tommy gets up and leaves for the kitchen. Albeit muted by the distance, I can hear him toss the small bag of cherry pits into the oven and the door slamming shut harder than intended. At first it used to annoy me, but I’ve come to accept he simply can’t help it because he’s stronger than he thinks. 

A giggle erupts from my throat as I envision how he tends to look whenever it happens. He’ll hang his head, handsome features contorted into an expression like a kicked puppy. The first time I saw it, it left me baffled for how could a man like him display such fragility? However, now, the only thing I’ll do is smile to let him know it’s okay. After all, he isn’t what the nicknames make him out to be.

He isn’t a cold-blooded monster.

Only a little clumsy outside the boxing ring. Moreover, he carries with him a story he hasn’t even given me a sliver of in the time I’ve known him. But that’s okay.

Sometimes things are better left untold.

I giggle and flip back over to continue watching my series. Tommy comes back a bit later, hastening to the bed while cradling the heat pack. Judging by the sound of velcro bands, Bun Bun gets once again opened up, this time for an implant. 

Blocking out the light with his broad shoulders, he looms over me to tuck the stuffie into my arms. Satisfied that I’m properly tucked in, he hums and runs his fingers through my hair. I briefly close my eyes, snuggle with Bun Bun, and lean into his touch. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long since he climbs off the bed the moment after. 

Unwilling to show my sulkiness, I continue to lie with my back to him. Nonetheless, the sullenness turns into unbridled restlessness at the sound of rustling fabric. I bite my lip to suppress the urge to flip around and watch him change into his pyjamas, to enjoy the sight of his muscles outlined by the light and decorated with tattoos. My fingers begin to itch with the need to trace his back, a pleasure I get to indulge in all year round since Tommy refuses to sleep with a shirt on. To cure the itch, I entwine them beneath the sheets so they can’t go wandering off on the sensual adventure my mind is begging for yet my body refuses with all her might.

The mattress dips again, the duvet ruffling with Tommy’s struggle to get comfortable. Once he is, however, he slips a big warm hand on my abdomen. 

“What’re we watching?” he murmurs, lazily placing a kiss on the back of my head. 

“Supernatural.” I glance over my shoulder. “Have you ever seen it?”

He shakes his head.

“If you want, we can start from the first episode.”

“Nah, don’t have to. This evening is all about you, not me.”

“You sure?”

He snuggles up to me, voice low and gruff with sleepiness. “Just press ‘play’.”

Legs entwined and his sturdy chest pressed against my back, we watch a few episodes. There’s a certain magic in two introverts sharing the same bubble. They are in a world of their own yet able to connect in a way others can’t. Silence is our language and his words tonight wrap me in a familiar cosy and secure cocoon.

It has already gone completely black outside, the moon bright in the sky, when a soft snoring cuts through the sarcasm and old rock songs. Puzzled, I pause the episode to make sure the noise isn’t my laptop breathing its last or in the series. Neither of which seems to be the case since the noise cuts through the silence regardless. 

A displeased grunt falls from Tommy’s lips when I try to look over my shoulder. I let out a breathless laugh, shut down the laptop, and carefully manoeuvre myself to face him and tuck him in. Instinctively, he props himself beneath my chin, nose pressed against my neck and his arms wrapped around my waist to keep us close together. 

I caress his short brown locks and press a tender kiss on the scar on his forehead, an injury he sustained recently in a boxing match. Slowly, my mind grows foggy while my limbs grow heavy with sleep. 

The last thing I feel is the warm breath of a content sigh on my skin.

And the sensation of something soft though firm digging into my chest.

Poor Bun Bun, firmly wedged between us, has lost tonight’s honour of being my favourite cuddle buddy.

[umichenginabroad]

Madrid, Week 1: La Bicicriti

Hola a todxs, soy Niko otra vez!! I’ve been in Madrid now for a little longer than a week, but it has felt like I’ve been here for a month. I watched a VSauce video about this phenomenon a while ago; Basically, when your days are filled with many novel, interesting events, your brain remembers the time spent as feeling longer than reality because there are more memories filling the space. That’s definitely true. I’m writing this in a cute cafe in the neighborhood Lavapies, while some old guy named Jesus who speaks in an accent that I can barely understand starts conversation with me, just one example.

As I mentioned last week, one of my hobbies is rollerblading. I started doing it when I was around 12 years old. I loved doing aggressive/trick rollerblading in skate parks, and I even went to a sleepaway camp to skate one summer. It was super epic.

Then, highschool started, and I lost a whole lot of time; I stopped rollerblading — until I rediscovered it in college again. At Michigan, I found people that loved rollerblading as much if not more than me, and the activity turned from something nerdy that I used to do when I was little into something cool in which I could find a community at Michigan (shoutout skate club!).

So, when I was preparing to leave for Madrid, I struggled with the decision to bring my skates or not. They probably weigh 10 pounds or something absurd, not very conducive to luggage with weight limits. But a friend of mine who had studied in Europe in the past told me I’d be crazy not to bring them; they were right.

Fast forward a week after I arrive, and I’m rollerblading through the streets of Madrid, drum & bass music blasting from a massive speaker strapped to someone’s bike, a mob of bikers, longboarders, and rollerbladers alike engulfing me on all sides. No police, no group leader, no motors, just a critical mass of people partying and celebrating sustainable travel.

However, finding this “party on wheels” (as my new friend Jander described it) wouldn’t have been possible if not for a good amount of courage and trust. How did I find it? It was a multi step process:

Step 1: Look up on Google “rollerblading in madrid”. Find the instagram page “@madrid.fns”, or Friday night skate, which does a big skate through the city one Friday every month.

Step 2: Go to the first FNS event. It got rained out, so it was rescheduled to an indoor skate rink. I went there alone, feeling timid but determined to get involved in the community. When I arrived, I strapped on my skates and started going around the circle somewhat awkwardly practicing my footwork, wanting to start a conversation but not confident enough to interac with anyone.

Step 3: Have a nice middle aged rollerblading spanish guy approach you because you definitely looked super awkward. We started talking, my nerves imposing somewhat of a block on my spanish speaking abilities. However, we talked about how we started skating, about the event, and about the blading community in Madrid. He added me to a Telegram group chat that people use to organize rollerblading routes in the city throughout the week. After this, I loosened up a little and started meeting the other bladers there. Notably, I met helicopter pilot from germany named Zoe who taught me how to powerslide.

Step 4: Go to one of the skating events you saw in the telegram group. I hopped on the Subway, rollerblades in hand, prepared to do a route called “Héroes” run by a certain Jesus (not the old man). I managed to find the meeting spot, introduced myself to a few people, and then we were off. The route started off tame and ended up with some pretty insane hill bombs, skating on Gran Via (the Broadway street of Madrid), and weaving through pedestrians in the tiny walking streets in the city center. It was pretty epic.

Step 5: Meet three dudes: Jander, Dester, and Kevin, who are experienced rollerbladers. Talk with them, beatbox for Jander while he freestyles in spanish, skate a bit more through the streets while trying to keep up (their skates are way better than mine for speed, I was SWEATING trying to keep their pace). Before we parted ways, Jander told me about the Bicicritica (spanish version of Critical Mass) — the aforementioned “party on wheels” that happens once on the last Thursday of every month. 

Step 6: Meet up with Jander, Dester, Kevin, and some of their other friends for the Bicicritica and have a blast, meeting tons of other spanish bladers (and a British biker) in the process. The Bicicriti is kind of anti-establishment/communist in nature. There are no group leaders, and there's not a police escort or anything. It's kind of just a big mass of bikers and rollerbladers that take the streets and have a good time, all while promoting sustainable travel. Rollerblading in a huge group, listening to electronic music, seeing the city of Madrid, all while drinking a beer — what more could I ask for?

To be honest, I’m pretty proud of myself for how much I’ve gotten integrated into the community so quickly into my trip. Thinking back, this whole week patinando (skating) offered a huge opportunity to overcome that little voice in my head that says I shouldn’t. At multiple points throughout the multi-step process above, I felt quite uncomfortable. Whether that be due to social anxiety or insecurity (in my spanish language or rollerblading skills), I had to continually convince myself that these feelings were okay, and that if only I endured them a little bit longer, things would get better. And they did, and what was on the other side was 100x worth the discomfort I felt getting there.

Also, people are nice. It’s easy to forget that other people have as much empathy as I do, if not more. When given the chance, everyone I met was warm, and I felt very welcome in the community even as an outsider (and an American, which comes with its own stereotypes. I think I dodged these stereotypes by entering interactions with a large dose of cultural humility). The guys that I befriended welcomed me with open arms, and I’m excited to continue to get to know them. One remaining point of contention: It’s easy to make friends with people when the time spent with them surrounds a common activity. But I’m craving deeper relationships, which may not be as easy to form in this context. We’ll see where we go with that.

I’m very excited to keep blading in Madrid throughout the semester. Urban skating in a truly urban environment is an absolute blast. I’m gonna continue pushing through that discomfort throughout the rest of the semester in everything I do, hopefully bringing about new people and opportunities to experience. 

This week, I also registered for classes, got tapas with new American friends, walked around Madrid a TON, went to the Prado museum, got famous churros from la Chocolatería de San Ginés, and partied a bit. Check out the photos and descriptions below for a little bit more on those.

Hasta la próxima semana.

Niko Economos

Aerospace Engineering

Universidad Carlos III de Madrid

Madrid, Spain

[hellfireconfessions]

Princess Tarble's | aka "Hookfang" | Experience on HF Staff

Disclaimer!

I do not condone the harassment of Hellfire Staff, Old or New. And if you’re looking for anything you can use to shit talk people with please leave. This is just a Document with my experience. Thank you.

And to any HF Higher-Ups who know me. It isn’t a dig at y’all. It’s just me getting feelings out there. 

  I have a section on MODS as I was the main Staff Member pushing for MODS like Skins and Remodels to be allowed on the server. Just scroll down past the Promotions part.

Forcing Promotions:

  The Hellfire Staff and Admin team was HIGHLY come and go. Like people joined and quit literally every single week, so the Higher-Ups were ALWAYS pushing for people to be Promoted. Most Mentors [Staff/Mintys/GreenBeans] were highly pressured into either getting promoted or dropping out of the Staff Team completely. If not directly then indirectly with the way we were passively treated.

  I personally never wanted to be anything Higher than a Mentor. As it was honestly the perfect spot in the server staff team for me. Answering questions and interacting with the community was all I ever wanted to do. But the higher-ups at the time, mainly Kanna, would constantly remind us that we could get promoted. 

  By the time I left the Hellfire Staff team I was Mentor the oldest at like 6 months of being a Mentor.

  I feel that people were promoted WAY too fast in the Staff Team. 

  I also was not a fan of Minors being on the Staff Team. I understand some kids may “seem mature” but I was not a fan of there being Minors who got on power trips because they were in spots higher-up than adults.

  SCROLL DOWN FOR MY SECTION ON MODS

REMODELS On Hellfire Realism:

  Most of the people who know me personally know that, at the same time I was a Staff Member on Hellfire I was also a Trial Admin/Admin on the Isle Legacy Modding Server OPEN DINOS. 

  So when Mods like Remodels, and Map Textures were starting to become REALLY REALLY popular in the Legacy Community I immediately started a Staff Suggestion thread where I would talk about adding mods to the server.

  I don’t have any screenshots of the Thread as it was almost a year ago that it was made and I had left the Staff Team almost a year ago as well.

  Phen was the main Higher-Up I was dealing with when it came to talking about Remodels and other Mods. And they had asked that I make lists of Remodels, that I felt should be allowed and not allowed on the server. So when I finished the Google Docs of the 3 lists I made (as I had some that were a lil iffy due to them being Species Replacements) immediately the lists started being picked apart and ruined. Everything that was not “accurate” or was deemed “too unnatural” was immediately thrown into not being allowed.

  I had to fight for ages for them to allow Remodels into the server. The thread had been open and active for at least 2 or 3 months before the steps to actually allowing Remodels and the like would actually start to take action.

  That was mainly due to them trying to get in contact with Isle Devs on the matter and was told we were gonna get a “Dev Blog on the issue” but to my knowledge that STILL hasn’t come. The only response on the matter I was able to find was from Anthomnia’s Server Isla Nycta where the Devs kinda just shrugged it off (surprisingly). Like there were some statements made that Dondi was all like “Don’t Mod MY game” and all that but since no actions were taken against Open Dinos or any of the other modding servers I’d assume Mods don’t care at this point.

  But back to Hellfire Talk. —v

I had worked almost 4 to 5 months on trying to get Remodels allowed on Hellfire. And when the first announcement went through that a HUGE chunk of Community Favorite mods were not gonna be allowed on the server I was crushed. I had worked hard on the rules and suggestions for Mods. It was only after complete community backlash and the threat of Hellfire gonna shut down due to mods not being allowed that the Higher-Ups decided to go with the original stuff that I proposed.

  Getting remodels allowed on Hellfire was a very sticky job for me that really drained my motivation to stay on the Staff Team and even active on the server as a whole. As it showed me the blatant favoritism that was within the Staff. Basically if you were anything below a Moderator or Admin your suggestions basically were ignored. And you had to fight for talking rights. They preached about treating Mentors with the same respect as other Staff to the community when they really didn’t themselves.

  Basic Experience

  The only thing that made being Staff on Hellfire fun was being able to get discounts on Injects and interacting with the community. Other than that they basically expected you to drop everything and only work on Hellfire.

  Please do NOT harass Hellfire Staff. It doesn’t solve ANYTHING.

TY For telling me about Bigger Submit. I don’t use Tumblr much lol

[britcision]

Family death mentions ahead friends

So one of the things I learned in the arrangements for my grandmother’s funeral is that their local priest remembers me

Pretty sure I only ever met him once; he moved in long after we’d left the country, and when I went back for visits church was not a part of them

He was the one who did my grandfather’s funeral

That was an interesting time, and the first time I noticed I am actually dogshit at handling things emotionally; emotionally, I’m usually fine. Sad, tired, got a key on depression, but never what you’d call the depths

No, all of those things get autorepressed before I know they’re there, so my disabled ass processes everything physically

0/10, do not recommend this. I don’t even know what’s stressing me out half the time, I have a crazy flare and have to reverse engineer what’s wrong around that

So I was, y’know, even less disposed to socialising than you might think around Grandpa’s funeral

Didn’t go to the wake, didn’t really talk to anyone. I wrote something for him and I read it in the service, and then we went to see the hole and pour his ashes in

My grandparents lived around the corner from that church before I was born; their direct garden neighbour is the graveyard, and they used to get to church through a pair of abutting doors that led from their garden to the priest’s garden, and then immediately into the graveyard

So when I told the family to go on without me, I’d head home, well, there was no real hesitation

(I do know the legal way around, the new priest wasn’t keen on strangers coming through the garden but I suspect Granny converted him before the end

But I am the grandchild Most Likely To Just Go Hop The Graveyard Fence)

And I sat there for a while, mostly just existing

And the priest came over to see to things, because everyone else had left and he saw them go, and he didn’t think I’d be there

He offered to come back later, but it was fine. It needed to be done, and I wasn’t doing anything that would be affected by it

He warned me a couple of times that it could be hard for people, and he really could just come back, but it was fine

I helped him step down my grandfather’s ashes for when the next person would be interred

(It’s a very old graveyard and while not 100% full as far as I know, they did have a special paved garden where you could pick which stone to have your ashes under along with anyone else in the parish

Very communal, you get all mixed in. As you may suspect, this is not a church holding stock in bodily resurrections)

And we talked a bit about the garden and how that all worked, and I helped fill in the hole and stole a stone

And that was the first and last time I met him

He asked if I’d be okay to go home on my own, and I did not tell him I could just hop the fence. I went around in the street like a good adult and everything

And that was the only time I ever met him

But when they were arranging my Granny’s funeral last month, apparently he mentioned he remembered me

I couldn’t be there this time, being both devoid of an immune system which makes air travel and the UK specifically dangerous as hell, and also sick with some stupid little cold of my own that has lasted a month and will not leave or let me sleep

(Not COVID, I checked, and a round of antibiotics ALMOST kicked it on its head… and then two days ago nope we’re back to up every couple hours because I can’t breathe)

I wrote something for my mother to read, but it just… never occurred to me that he would remember me

The old priest there knew me since before I could walk (I suspect he has passed), and was party to both good and bad childhood stories

This new guy was younger than my parents, we met once and I don’t think we’ll ever meet again, but I have been repeatedly told that I make an impression, even when I’m not trying to

I guess some people are not up for a peaceful chat about death rights while burying their loved ones, but I just…

I’m not sentimental about what is left behind

The important part is what has left, and the body itself needs to be dealt with

He was my grandfather, and it made sense to me to help put him to rest

To do the last thing I ever could with his earthly remains and make sure he was interred with love

It’s apparently not something I should ask anyone to do for me when I’m done, but I don’t mind that. I won’t be there, and I’m not really worried about what happens to the meat that occasionally consented to do what I wanted it to

It is possible that growing up playing chase in a graveyard and nicking shiny stones off the graves gives you a somewhat skewed view of death, but I’d have to talk to my older siblings more to be sure

(I don’t know if the priest even knows I have an older sister. She might have visited their area on her honeymoon, but all the relatives she stayed with only had horror stories to share with me later

She didn’t come for our grandfather’s funeral when my brothers and I did

She doesn’t care about anything but her husband and now her kid, but in a very… obvious way

She barely spoke to any of them

She flew out to see our Granny before she passed with her baby for a day or so, which personally I agree is a better call than going to the funeral, but I dunno if she would have seen him - she could be flying completely under the radar)

I guess I’ve just been thinking about the imprint we leave behind when we’re gone

As a family we tend towards being loud, obvious, and usually weird (on one side - the other tends towards loud, gregarious, and aggressively organising events)

I met that guy once, for probably no more than twenty minutes after the hour long service

He’ll probably never have cause to think about me again in his life, unless he tells that story

But I’ll always know him as the priest who moved in and asked the nice little old lady behind not to cut through his yard, entirely unknowing that she would in fact be organising every church do for the next two decades and would be a stranger for about another week tops

And apparently he remembers me staying behind, chatting about death and interment while we poured the dirt back into the hole and squashed it down until the stone could fit snugly again

We did discuss how many people it would take for it not to go down properly, but they do have a plan in place - that’s why they rotate the stones, so they have about the same volume of people under them

I don’t know if my grandmother was cremated

If she was, it was three days before Bonfire Night, and they just barely missed the very funniest funeral possible, but I don’t think the family will be ready for that observation for a few more years at least

If she was, I don’t know if they’ll put her under the same stone

I think I asked if you could make requests, but it’s been a long time; I don’t remember the answer

There will be a couple extra tenants in there with them, if they do, which would make her very happy. She was a compulsive host all her life

You also don’t exactly get only your own loved one’s ashes back from the crematorium

I think you can make a special request and pay extra, but it is much less energy efficient to cool and clean the oven between each body

You just sort of get the sweepings at the end of the day, portioned out between everyone

You can also have your ashes specially compressed and turned into a diamond at a different company or all sorts of other things, but you need a lot of ash to make a very small diamond because the key word there is “compression”, along with “heat”, “pressure”, and “extreme”

It may be worth storing more than one person’s worth of ash to make something more notable

There would be something poetic in having your ashes mixed with your partner’s into a single stone for the rest of eternity

I do sort of want mine to be tossed off a tall building in a wind storm though, so that’s for the rest of y’all

Organise the polycule and go for a statement piece

But do put one of those anti moisture bags in with the ashes while you’re waiting for everyone else to go, because the brick would probably be harder to ship by weight

It is entirely possible that I’m just weird about death all on my own, honestly

But if the worst thing some people can imagine is there being just… nothing at all, you just stop existing, that sounds pretty good to me

Like my Granny, I am also a compulsive entertainer - I’m pathologically bad at just sitting and hanging out at peoples’ houses. We have to be going somewhere, doing something, have some form of outside stimuli

Even just “you’re with everyone you love having a wonderful time forever and ever” sounds exhausting

Living is hard, people are hard, and I have ADHD so I guarantee I will find a way to get sick of eternity even with all the wonders of the universe to explore

All I want is peace and the chance to just stop

Failing that, I nominate we all build the tumblr island as whatever lies beyond and develop post-vital memes that will take decades to bring the newly dead up to speed on

[kokikokisstuff]

Posted on 02. November 23.

Firstly - don’t start. I am pro recovery all day everyday. Please, please get help. There are so many people who are willing to help and it will get better. Whatever you think you can prove or fix or destroy by starving yourself is not worth it. It’s not. You deserve to be fed, you deserve to be healthy. I am looking for help all the time and I want to get better so badly. Please no minors.

23 yo

175 cm / 5’9”

CW: 59kg / 130lbs

GW: 49 kg / 108lbs

I don’t really have a start weight. I have been anorexic since I was 12. It started because I was sick for a week and lost some weight. I wanted to loose more, I was searching for a sense of belonging. My life was unbearable and I was living in an abusive household ever since I was born. In school my classmates bullied me which made me feel very lonely. I had no one who supported me so I was looking for something that would support me. I fell into the dark hole that eating disorders are and learned to love the voice inside my head that told me to starve myself until someone - anyone - saw the pain I was carrying inside of me. Within six months I lost 19kg/41lbs. I went from 63kg/139lbs to 44kg/97lbs. Once my mother caught onto it she forced me to eat. I was crying, screaming, begging not to eat the food she put in front of me. I was terrified. I wanted to vanish into thin air. One day I couldn’t take the verbal and mental abuse anymore and started binging away.

I never got treated for my eating disorder. I was so ashamed of the fact that my family, especially my own mother, didn’t help me fight this illness. I made up a lie and told everyone I got treatment. I couldn’t possibly say that my family doesn’t give a f*k. If someone would have helped me and got me into therapy - maybe I wouldn’t be here, 10 years later, still suffering.

The past 10 years were a horrible up and down and I was never able to shut the voice inside my head up. My highest weight has been 67kg/147lbs, my lowest weight during this time was 51kg/112lbs. I binged and starved and binged and starved some more. I am tired.

So 10 years ago all this mess started, I hate this illness more than anything else however - she’s my best friend. Never leaves my side, ever. I have so many stories about my life with anorexia, I could write multiple books. I wish I’d have never started…

I was diagnosed with bipolar 1 this year and about two years ago with bpd. Due to therapy I was able to treat almost all of my bpd symptoms, so I’m not struggling with it as much as before. Bipolar I is a different thing tho. I’m on medication since may this year, it has helped immensely. I still struggle with mania especially and depression symptoms. They’re just not as strong as before, luckily!

For two months now I have been back on this bullsh full time and I already lost 7kg/16lbs. Seeing the number drop lower and lower is a feeling I have never experienced before or ever again with anything else. So I will keep on starving myself until I binge eat myself all the way back to before. Or until I reach my GW. I just want to see how far I can push myself. How much weight can I lose until I’ll lose life?

I went vegan in 2019 due to health reasons and I am still vegan today. I am not the purging type, I am the starving type. I also hardly do any sporty activities but I want to get more into it again because I am good at sports.

If you have any questions please ask away! I’m happy to be part of a community, whichever one that might be. :-)

[rdps01]

hello. im going to get straight to the point: this post is about @/grimmshood, @/bladeofmarseille, @/elliottspencer, and a few more from their group. i don’t usually do posts like this, and im sorry for putting this on your dash, but my friend allexiaah and the rest of my inner circle have decided we’re done staying quiet about this.

this is not a callout post, it’s a big ol’ dni with examples if you’re anything like these people, have anything to do with these people positively, or you ARE these people lol.

before i get accused of being a lapdog, this is of my own volition. im tired of all this myself and i’d rather people are more aware of it.

anon and dms are off. leave anything you have to say in reblogs or replies. don’t bug me about this on anywhere else but this one post. asks about this will be deleted, i’d rather not have more of this shit clogging people’s dashboards. i don’t want to start a fire, i just want all this out there. how you react to it and what you do with it is up to you, but DO NOT directly bug me or allex about it anywhere else after this.

aspec exclus dni, people @’d in the post dni.

cw for: aphobia, f slur

although some of these are old, this situation got real bad just a little over a year ago, and just about all of these were during that timespan. some are as recent as a month ago. minds haven’t changed a lot.

to speak on my friend’s behalf, if you’re anything like these people, or you have friends like this, and you just sit idly and say nothing? fuck you. you're just as bad as them by not lifting a finger and by staying close to them after they’ve clearly shown how horrible they are as people. speaks louder than words.

being aspec doesn’t mean your word is god when it comes to aspec problems or whether or not they affect people, and you CERTAINLY don’t get to tell people that the shit they’ve been told is miniscule and they’re being sensitive about it. stop using your identity as a shield and own up to the fact that your ideas are shitty and just… wrong.

it’s not just the blatant exclusionist shit either. if you’re an asshole to people because you get a kick out of it, fuck off. if you’re someone who’s ableist for kicks, fuck off. if you make jokes out of suicide with no filter, fuck off. learn to be better. if you’re a horrible person to others just because they disagree with you on something that’s just inconsequential, fuck off. there’s no excuse for any of it at all. either grow as a person or rot in your own hateful and downright deplorable attitude until it eats you.

for me, i’d rather you fuck off too if you’re like this. my blog is not a space for you, not when you harbour beliefs like this. and for people who are on the sidelines, i’d rather you reconsider your follow. I would really like to steer clear of them which unfortunately includes people who follow me, even people who im mutuals with who are mutuals with them too. being aroace yourself doesn’t mean you speak for the whole community. it’s not the “gotcha” comeback you think it is and just because you choose not to see it doesn’t mean other aspecs magically don’t experience it either.

im leaving it all at that. again, leave us be on anywhere else BUT this post. have a good day

[wienersmosh]

i miss my best friend.

i don’t know if i’m still allowed to call her that, if it would still be accurate. she hasn’t spoken to me in six months (and for good reason). but i don’t know what else to call her.

two months ago i said i was done waiting for a response. removed her from my instagram, which was our main form of communication. out of sight, out of mind. hid our chat and put it in dm requests. but i also told her i was open to reconnection in the future, if that was something she wanted.

at first it felt good, letting go. letting the ball be in her court. that’s what all my other friends told me to do. leave her alone. give her time. focus on myself. live my life. all easier said than done. i’m sad to report i did none of that. i went crazy. i sent her multiple paragraphs in the span of four months - i don’t 100% recall what i’ve said at this point. i refuse to look at them, it gives me anxiety now.

but now i regret it. i’ve accepted that she’s probably never going to talk to me again, that she’s not going to return to her other social media accounts where i had access to her - twitter (x?), tumblr - and even if she did she might make new accounts. but i keep wondering if there was a way for me to accept it without having to give up my only connection to her, which was instagram, the only social media she was using at that point.

i think back to everything that led to our fallout. me being so emotionally insecure and waking up every day thinking that she was going to leave me (who would’ve thought i’d manifest it into becoming true?). me being too demanding, not being empathetic, disregarding and forgetting everything she’s told me about her - her anxiety, her tendency to isolate and withdraw and shut down. i was so blinded by my distress and fear and anxiety and insecurity that i forgot to act like a normal human being. i forgot to act like her friend.

she truly was the greatest friend i’ve ever made, and i fear i won’t meet anyone like her again. i think i’m fated to look for her in everyone i meet going forward, forever. it’s terrifying to think about.

she follows me on here, but there hasn’t been any activity on her account since the day after she stopped talking to me. so i doubt she’ll see this. but i don’t particularly care if she does.

marin, if you see this - i miss you.

[barrelcat]

Holiday Pickups 2022

Happy New Year!

A little late, but thought I’d share some pickups from right before Christmas to now. 

I’m very lucky to be a mod of a great writing community on discord and this is the second year that we’ve engaged in Secret Santa across the server. @grimbims, who was my Secret Santa, sent me Hades on the Switch! I was also delighted to discover that the physical copy of the game comes with a code for the soundtrack, as well as a small artbook featuring all of the game’s characters. It’s also my first roguelike (again, recalling that whole “broadening your gaming horizon” thing), and while Hades is difficult for my novice skills, it’s a terrible amount of fun. I’m not too bad at it, either. I favor the spear coupled with blessings from Artemis and have made it just past Asterius on Elysium, but that battle of attrition always leaves me struggling to survive afterward. 

Xenoblade Chronicles Definitive Edition is the other game I’m shuffling between right now. I had asked for XC3, but there was a mixup during my gifter’s order and I ended up with this one instead, which may secretly have been what I actually wanted. I know that XC3 is supposed to be amazing, but I like to get the whole story, even if the internet tells me that I don’t need to play 1 and 2 before diving in. I’m about twenty hours deep so far and can confidently say that I’m going to play it to the end. The world and premise are interesting, the characters and story are compelling, even if the dialogue is a bit painful at times (my writer's brain can be overly critical even at the best of times), and the gameplay loop is satisfying. It feels very MMO to me. As an avid FFXIV player, that’s only a good thing. 

I was excited for Harvestella the moment it debuted on the Nintendo Direct back in June of ‘22 (oh my gosh, is that really “back in” already???). Even though I’ve only dabbled in a handful of farming/life simulators, I’ve obsessed over the ones that I have played (minus Stardew Valley - I know, I’m awful, but it just never grabbed me like it did others. Conan Exiles, though? I lost days to that game.) The anime aesthetic coupled with farming and crafting in Harvestella spoke to me like a game hasn’t in a long, long time, and I knew I needed it as soon as it launched. This was later confirmed when I blasted through the Switch demo shortly after. As excited as I was, though, I’ve decided to set this one aside until I finish the first Xenoblade. Then I’ll discover what was really going on with those Seaslights. 

I played Fire Emblem: Three Houses for the first time just a couple months ago. The two weeks I poured into it were gone all too quickly, and while I told myself and friends that I wanted to do a replay for the other endings and storylines, I just couldn’t bring myself to betray Edelgard. After 70+ hours together, her character meant too much to me. Color me excited when I realized that Fire Emblem: Three Hopes was another story featuring those characters, but in the style of the Dynasty Warriors games. (Note: to be honest, I’m not sure what the deal is with the story, but I’m excited to find out!) So once I get to this one, I’m sure it’s going to be another non-stop ride. 

Not gifts per se, but I did pick up a Byleth amiibo with some Christmas Cash, as well as a copy of Fire Emblem Fates: Birthright for the 3DS from the local used game shop. I wanted to get a copy of an FE Fates game so I could download the third not-so-secret storyline to that series, Fire Emblem Fates: Revelations. If you didn’t know, the online shop for the 3DS (and the Wii U, I believe) are being shut down in March of 2023. Apart from purchases made before that date, nothing will be available on those marketplaces to buy or download. Part of a string of odd choices made by Nintendo, recently. 

I’ve been eyeing these books since the newest printing was announced sometime last year. Both volumes of the Encyclopaedia Eorzea are gazetteers of the world of FFXIV, and feature stunning art taken from the game. They’re filled to the brim with world lore, and remind me more of a D&D campaign guide than anything else. I have half a mind to use them to run a game set in Eorzea using these books as source material. Maybe then I can get my group to join me in the MMO. 

This mug is from Etsy and brings me immeasurable joy. It features a memed version of Gaius van Baelsar’s famous line from the end of FFXIV: A Realm Reborn and makes me cackle every time I read it. I actually received two of these in duplicate, a 16oz and a 12 oz. The larger has worked its way into my mug rotation (because we all have a thousand mugs at this point, right?), and the smaller has earned its place among my small-yet-growing FFXIV collection next to my handcrafted moogle (a birthday present from my sister). From his perch, Gaius will always be there to remind me to drink more coffee. 

Probably the coolest gift I received this year was an ocarina from the Nintendo 64 classic, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of time. I’m not sure if the picture does it justice, but the craftsmanship is stunning. The blue gloss is deep and shines wonderfully under light. It fits perfectly on the shelf with my other Zelda mementos. The box came with sheet music for several melodies from the game, so I’m definitely going to try and learn a couple tunes. Physical items from games like this are the best. I’ll admit, I have a soft spot for action figures, but having something tangible from a game world you’ve invested hours into is so, so cool. 

The final, and arguably largest, pickup for this update is a Nintendo Wii that I was able to find locally on CraigsList for a fantastic price! I didn’t have a Wii when I was younger (well, I did briefly… but that story might be for another time) and I’ve had one on my list for a while. Everything works, minus some battery acid damage on one of the Wii remotes, but I’m going to invest some time into repairing that soon. 

The seller lived about an hour away, so we met halfway at another used game shop that I hadn’t been to before. After the transaction, I popped inside to grab a couple games as well, including Nights: Journey of Dreams and SSX Blur. I read the Nights comics when I was kid, which were Sega and Archie Comics attempting to see if the series could survive the market. They didn’t, unfortunately, but they were a major influencer in my perhaps misguided desire to become a writer, so I’ve always wanted to try the games. As for SSX, Blur is the only one I haven’t played in the series. SSX Tricky on the GameCube was a gaming staple when I was a kid, so I couldn’t pass this one up when I found it. 

All in all, exciting additions to the collection with a lot of games to enjoy. 

[cbk1000]

garglyswoof Wait what what's happening with current job? You just recently moved to it I thought ? I'm out of the jenn loop

You thought right; I got promoted about nine months ago to an analyst position, and do you know what I’ve spent 98% of my time doing? Basic data entry. I keep getting more and more heaped on me (often with very little notice) because I’m a super fast typist and very accurate, so I’m basically their dumpster for all the menial data entry that keeps falling behind. And I keep getting my old work yeeted back at me, which I had kind of expected to be able to move away from in a new role. I brought this up with my boss not too long ago about how I didn’t mind helping out or doing this work, but I didn’t want to do it all day every day and that I was very frustrated because I didn’t take an analyst role so I could do basic data entry and the same work I was responsible for in my old role, which I left specifically because I was bored and had outgrown it. 99% of the work I’m doing is not even within the scope of my duties, and it is NOT what the job was advertised to me as. Otherwise I wouldn’t have taken it. Rest under a cut because I’m long-winded when I rant. lmao

And my boss told me I was their ‘go-to girl,’ but that I was right and it wasn’t fair for all that to fall to me and that I should have some variety and be able to work on other projects, and that everyone was expected to pull their weight and so my coworkers could trade off with me or rotate weeks or something so that I wasn’t stuck with it all.

Then last Thursday, my boss messaged me and asked if I thought I ‘had the capacity to take on <more of the same old shit>’, and I straight up said I didn’t know that I could take it on without having to drop pretty much everything except the work that had already been established as something I didn’t want to/shouldn’t get stuck doing all the time. She said, ‘Yeah, makes sense; let me know what I can do to help support this work.’ Which I took as probably meaning that I was going to get stuck with it, but never at any point did anyone actually say, ‘This is your responsibility now.’ Then yesterday at our morning meeting, my boss asked if I had got to it yet. (Keep in mind that not only was I never told for sure that I would have to take on that work, it was never established WHEN. The person who ordinarily does it is leaving the role, which is why my manager asked if I could take it on, but I had no clue when their current position was ending.) I was a bit pissed but didn’t want to say, ‘No, I haven’t fucking done it since no one ever actually told me it was my responsibility or when I would have to take it over’, so I just said I hadn’t had time. And then I checked and there were over 400 charges pending, so my boss told me we (meaning me) would have to prioritize that and I’d have to drop all other work I was in the middle of, and if I was having trouble keeping up, they could see about people catching up my other work. You know, the scant bit of other things I have to do that actually give me some variety in my day. 

So I was LIVID and just said, ‘Fine’ in my Very Not Happy voice and got to it...but because the communication in this place is ass, the lady who I may be/possibly/who the fuck knows taking over for messaged me shortly after I started entering charges and said it looked like we were both working in the program, and wanted to know which patients I had entered so we didn’t duplicate anything. I apologized and told her I had no idea she would be working in there and had just been told that morning that it was my job to do it. So between the two of us we spent all day cleaning it up, and now I’m behind on everything else. It would have taken me a couple of days of doing nothing else to catch it up myself even with as fast as I work, and it’s not a one and done deal, of course.

I’m extremely pissed at the way that was handled, because there’s no reason someone else on my team couldn’t be assigned that task or at least help out with it, and that idea was never even floated. Plus, we’re in the middle of restructuring after our acquisition, but we’ve been in limbo for MONTHS waiting to hear what’s going to be done with us, if our job titles will change, if we’ll go to different managers, etc., and we still have heard fuck all about when we can even expect to get an answer there. Eventually my duties will change no matter what when we implement our new electronic medical record program, but that’s not till 2024, and in the meantime, how long am I expected to wait to do something that’s not so boring it makes me want to jump off the roof of my house? Also, I’m sick to death of constantly getting feedback from managers about how smart I am and then being given tasks a monkey could do.

So anyway, hopefully something will change, but in the meantime I’m keeping my eye out for other positions. The one I applied for today is pretty much the same role as what I’m currently doing, but with an organization that hopefully will give me something more to do than ‘copy these codes into this program and drool on yourself.’

Tl;dr Hide it as well as you can if you can type 100+ wpm, because every shit job will be pushed off on you because your productivity is triple the average person.