#that i wrote at the ripe old age of 14

[abzania]

I cannot believe it's been 10 years and I'm fucking fixated on Sebastian and Black Butler again. This can't be happening. I shouldn't have screenshots of him, yet here I am. I'm cursed. I can't escape this. My heart is still 13 and stupidly charmed by a stupid pretty demon and his stupid child boss.

[fonulyn]

20 Questions for Fic Authors

thanks for the tag @thebrandywine 💖

answers under the cut.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

268 works.

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

1,256,253 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

RE. and still have the urge to write Gears but lol if you thought nivannedy was a rare pair...

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

nobody's perfect (TOG, pretty gen)

now drunk on lust I drown in you (forever within I'm lost in you) (RE, Chreon)

and who's to find the way right through you (RE, Chreon)

scattered fragments of time (that's all we are) (RE, Chreon)

how to accidentally get adopted - a guide by Piers Nivans (RE, Piers-centric, also background Chreon)

5. Do you respond to comments?

always! i know i missed a couple, sometimes i take ages, but i do always try to respond bc i love and cherish nice comments.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

the bad endings on three words to last forever. i still like the angstiest one the most :'D

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

lmao like everything else idk i want them happy. i've written loads of fluff idk how to quantify which is the happiest.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

only ever got a few nasty comments thankfully, so no, not really.

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

yeppp. idk what does 'which kind' mean? anything that feels inspiring lol.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

not really. i did start a few back in the day but i didn't really finish them. i am not really into crossovers tbh i don't even read them 99% of the time.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

yeah. someone was selling it on amazon pffth.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

a few. apparently five on ao3 lol but i think there was one or two back in the lj days too. might be wrong tho :'D

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

lol loads. at one point in life like... fifteen years ago, most things i wrote were co-written with a friend. and i've done it a couple of times after that too. i really like co-op stuff tbh but haven't found people to collab with lately.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

right now i would sell my soul for nivannedy. might already have.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

ehhhh at this moment i doubt i'll ever finish anything. maybe the lifeguard au? i was red-hot for the idea at first but then it kinda... fizzled out. kept changing. got ruined by pushy ppl lol. but maybe i'll get back to it one day bc i would love a nivannedy summer romance tbh.

16. What are your writing strengths?

uhm. characterization. dialogue. emotional shit? idk i think i do best when i have intimate moments with two people. tiny everyday moments and mundane shit. like that. if i get going writing sometimes flows super well and i think i can get consistently readable stuff done in one go. but that'd require getting going lol.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

action. i suck at action. i also suck at it in the way that i can't actually make myself start writing. i got way too co-dependent when i still had people excitedly participating in the process and now i sit here sad doing nothing :'D but anyway. writing action and having some self-discipline lol.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

depends very heavily on the context. in general i do think it should be all in one language for readability but there are exceptions. i've done it too lol but it was only like a line or two in finnish :'D

19. First fandom you wrote for?

diru, twenty years ago lmao, it's like a different lifetime. i only learned of the existence of fanfic at the ripe old age of nineteen lol but yeah it's still been so long now.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

asdjfngkn i can not choose between all of my children c'mon. uhm. am just gonna say the self-indulgent series bc it truly was so important to me for so long and i'm still devastated it ended. sigh. now i made myself sad again :'D

[bombcollar]

I was tagged by @go-go-devil!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I currently have 151.

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

327,526

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently the most recent fics I wrote have been for Cadence of Hyrule but I've also recently written for Iconoclasts and Pokemon.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Ferris Wheel (Bugsnax, Snorplo) - 248

Gemini (Bugsnax, body horror) - 169

Imitation Beef (Bugsnax, continuation of a canon scene) - 165

Imago (Elden Ring, Miquella wakes up as a big bug) - 154

Field Notes (Bugsnax, AU, cosmic horror) - 148

5. Do you respond to comments?

I always try to, even if it's just to say thanks.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh god probably one of my bugsnax fics... bugsnax really was ripe for angst. Both One Last Dance and Weary end in the implication that everybody has succumbed to the snax. I tend to leave things on more ambiguous notes than angsty, so even if the characters are in a sad or desperate situation it's uncertain what's going to happen to them next.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Sleep is Dark Souls III fic that implies the age of dark is actually a good thing and Lorian and Lothric survive to see it after all they've been through. I know I have written other happy things but this one is very hopeful.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've gotten a couple shitty comments or ones where I was just like, I have no idea what you're trying to communicate to me, but they're extremely rare and I just delete them if I do get them.

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

I do not write smut. Just not my thing.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

Not often, I have a few Fromsoft crossovers but I did write a Bugsnax/Nier Automata fic that never got finished. That's Between My Teeth.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, quite a few. Ao3 user Dashana in particular has translated a number of my Iconoclasts fics to Russian. I will probably never say no to having a fic translated if it helps it reach a larger audience, especially because I tend to pick niche fandoms or subjects.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have, with @malicious-fisheeves and with @wheeled-jack as well as some other friends who don't really use tumblr.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I really don't feel that strongly about ships much of the time but I do really like Wally/May from Pokemon RSE/ORAS and Gwyndolin/Darkmoon Knightess from Dark Souls.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Ugh I have this Mochi Mayhem rewrite thing in the works but I just can't seem to make any progress on it. I may put it out there unfinished but the problem is I have a big chunk of the beginning done and then a scene at the very end and nothing in the middle lmao.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told I'm really good at building dread. I personally think I'm good at writing platonic and familial character relationships, and writing characters who might be antagonists but who are complex and sympathetic.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have some trouble when it comes to writing incidental side characters that might serve a purpose for one scene but aren't really that important.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I really enjoy writing dialogue, it's one of my favorite parts of the process.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I wrote a Rayman 3 fic about some OCs of mine probably back in 2003 or something. It was about these griffin-like creatures that had the powerups tested on them and it fucked them up because they were flesh and blood rather than made of cloth like the Hoodlum enemies are. They were trying to escape the facility they were kept in. Unfortunately I do not think it's still posted on my old ff.net account so it may be lost media.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I'll always be extremely proud of Monarch Sunrise (the bugsnax timeskip cruise fic) for the sheer scale of it (as far as my fics go) and for all the help I had plotting and editing it.

This is a tough question to answer though because I'm really happy with many of them. I'd say my favorite thing I've written lately is Lyre Lyre, my Octavo backstory fic, because I think it does a good job of laying out his situation in a concise and entertaining manner, like he's telling this story to a crowd.

as for tagging folks uhhh how about @wheeled-jack @mumagi @disco-descent

[original-character-championship]

Bracket F Round 1

Poll 14

Nat Finch (@albatris) vs. Rain February-Pulster (@aincretop)

347. Nat Finch (@albatris)

He/him

he is a sweet darling boy. an earnest and excitable lad. a pathetic anxious wet cat of a vampire. he works in a petrol station and encourages shoplifting. he loves animals and cooking and his friends and he has a terrifying monster mode. he is getting beaten up by the plot but he stays silly :3

Short and fat with a round face and lots of freckles. Pale white and sickly-looking, not because he's a vampire but because he's just... like that... Red eyes and long black hair, often uneven and choppy in length because he cuts tangles out instead of untangling them <3

348. Rain February-Pulster (@aincretop)

xe/xem/xer/xers/xemself or it/its (primarily)

Rain is a barely-paid journalist who writes for xer local newspaper, and since it's gotten in some scalding hot water with a criminal organization xe wrote an article about (by this, I mean they blackmailed xem), it's really looking to get a better-paying job to stop mooching off of xer roommate. Rain is also at the ripe old age of 17, and its various legal documents are completely forged! Xe often takes up shady side hustles, such as probably-illegal studies in which randomly selected participants are... "placed in a room" to be interviewed about nothing in particular. As for why exactly Rain should win... it's literally neurodivergent and a minor.

Rain is a light blue furry, kind of based off of Espeon, who has a dual-tone split tail, very fluffy whiskers, and a mint green gem on its forehead. Xer casual wear includes a blue crop top, darker flared shorts, and a navy bag. It has striped shoes that are the same dark-ish color of xer shorts. Its formal wear is a dark blue scarf, a sliverish blue button up shirt, black arm warmers the same color as xer shorts, pastel blue and white socks, and black boots.

[toyhousedramas]

/748708497271750657/if-were-talking-about-wonderultra-let-me-say-this

im one of his exes (known him for 2 years) and I can confidently say that he has issues

but whats even more of an issue is half the stuff you listened is not true and debunked and the other half is stuff he did when he was the ripe age of eleven. he's seventeen now. get over it.

i find it really strange that based on what this person listed it seems like tofubee/churrofeast (wtv its name is now lol) wrote that.

correct me if im wrong but didn't jason and churro both engage in consensual CNC? i feel like this has been talked about already, stop bringing up old trauma to bring down another recovering kid on a website he doesnt even have lol embarrassing

he doesn't have ocd that i know of? hes openly talked about having schizophrenia and BPD. also as if knowing somebody and obsessing over them enough to make a petty and untrue ask wasn't bad enough but somebody leaked churro tweaking ab asks talking abt him LOLL

now based on my experience, he is abusive but not sexually abusive. im hoping he doesnt see this bcs he will know who this is but he is/was mean. around 2 years ago was when i was with him months after we first started talking and he was emotionally abusive and controlling. that was when he was 14 i think but that doesnt reflect who he is now in my opinion

.

[pictureofdoriaaaaaangay]

chaotic book ramble so I can stop spiraling into the abyss: my childhood favorite books that I've been thinking about lately

I start college in four days, where I'll be pursuing an English degree. I've been both a reader and by extension a writer my whole life. lately, I've been thinking about the books I loved when I was younger that fueled this passion and thus helped me along to where I am now <3

The Land of Stories series by Chris Colfer. I still have my old copies of these books, and when I tell you they are well-loved, I mean they are well-loved. they're sort of fairytale retellings, and take place in the Land of Stories, which exists as a parallels world to this one where fairytale characters are real and living beyond their happily ever afters. the books follow twins Alex and Connor, who find out (spoiler?? lol) that their grandmother is the fairy godmother. all sorts of stuff goes down, and honestly I only remember half of it like a fever dream, but I remember really loving it in book five (?) when they get to meet the characters from stories Connor wrote. honestly, I probably read the entire series over fifty times, and that's not an exaggeration. first read them the year the third book came out, when I was nine. waiting for the rest was, I recall, absolute torture.

the Spiderwick Chronicles by Holly Black and Tony DiTerlizzi. this is so funny to me, because these books basically set me up for my later teen years and loving the Folk of the Air series by Holly Black - but I digress. I first read these at age eight in a high-stress time of my life, and as a result they were likely deeply formative. they follow twins Jared and Simon (more twins ??) and their older sister Mallory (thinking back, she was absolutely part of my bi awakening). they move with their mother into the old Spiderwick mansion, and soon discover a fieldguide all about faeries and different fae species that live in the woods surrounding the house. I honestly think that the plot of these books is batshit, but I still sort of love them. there's a movie, but it's terrible, and aggressively condenses the plot into something completely unrecognizable.

Harry Potter, by... Harry Potter. isn't it great that, after his time at Hogwarts, he decided to write a seven-book autobiography?? so funky of him!! anyways - I read these at the ripe age of ten, and stuck by loving them since. HP was my first fandom, and maybe the one I'm fondest of (actually, thinking on this, no), and Hogwarts in general holds a lot of nostalgia for me. this being said, I still love the books, but I have to say that I reread them last year for the first time since I was maybe 14/15 and um. wow. Mr. Potter you are?? problematic??? someone please tell me why the adult man who was allowed to abuse children in a position of power for sixteen years got a redemption arc but the literal CHILD who was born into an abusive and power-hungry family didn't. also why is Dumbedore hailed as such a bloody saint?? he's worse than fucking Voldemort. I said what I said. also it's super confusing that Harry never mentioned in his autobiography that his Sirius and Remus were happily married and living at Grimmauld place. weird storytelling choice I guess!!

all those damned Warrior cats books by Erin Hunter. I swear to god these books had crack in them I ATE THEM UP from the ages of like. eight to eleven?? maybe??? genuinely, I must've reread them a hundred times, but I could tell you NOTHING about the plots. a few vibes, maybe, but zero plots. did they even have plots?? were plots a thing in those books??? how was I so obsessed with them???? funniest part is the fact that I see people talking about them on the internet now and it's just. insane. actually insane.

Lockwood and Co by Jonathan Stroud. full transparency: I read these for the first time at age eleven (around the time the fourth book out of five came out) and now remain an active member of the fandom. I love these books, and these characters, with my whole heart and I want nothing more than them to be happy. the Netflix show, though I have some pretty severe gripes with it, is still really amazing and absolutely deserves a second season. the books are set in London, where ghosts are real deeply dangerous, and follow the main trio of Lucy, Lockwood, and George. I reread them at the start of the year in preparation for the show, and they're genuinely just incredible works. I sobbed a lot reading them. they're absolutely comfort reads for me; 35 Portland Row is home.

wow. that was a lot. there's honestly several more I could talk about (School for Good and Evil, Percy Jackson, etc), but this is a long enough post for now, ha. love you all <3

[outer-edges]

20 questions for fic writers

thank u for the tag @freetobeyouandmichi-me

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

19

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

91k

wow didn’t realize id published so little. this is purely because i am a miserly old man who hoards fics. i have probably twenty finished lucifer fics sitting in my drive. and no one will ever get to see them 💙

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currently? really none. in the past? mainly miraculous ladybug, lucifer, carry on (simon snow) & the last of us

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

it’s how we show love - tlou

game? im not playing any games (unless you count the ones i play with beatrice) - lucifer

sharing is caring - tlou

we’re not dating - lucifer

a police consultant, a sandwich, a neatly sliced apple, and a cup of tea - lucifer

im linking all of those but be warned the lucifer ones are SOOOOOOOO teenage mattie cringe i was like a sophomore in high school when i wrote those.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

YES!!?!?!?!?!!!

i love comments. im actually kissing all of my commenters on the virtual mouth. mwah. if I’m normal in a comment reply just know I’m actually giggling and kicking my feet.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

EASILY gotta be someone better bc it’s just a canon compliant little drabble from lucifer 3x21 (iykyk)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

honestly all of them pretty much have happy endings??? i think happiest is gotta be meet me at our spot because that’s overall the fluffiest fic I’ve ever posted

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i dont think I’ve received anything within driving distance of hate which i am very grateful for. but i also know it’s because my fics reach very little people so it’s a little hard to get hate if haters aren’t seeing ur fics

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do not

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

that I’ve published?? no. have I EVER written a crossover? a million times yes. every fandom I’ve ever written for has been crossed over with each other in every permutation. favorite one has to be aos x lucifer. the craziest one is probs the harley quinn x icarly one i plotted out (it’s called iHarley and i started it for a writing even but never finished).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no because much like the hate thing it is a little hard to get hate when you’re unknown. there are perks to it

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no but omg I would LOVE to

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

dude this is too hard to choose from. either kastle or deckerstar

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

will i be shot if i say the time loop 🫣

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think it’s dialogue? i mean what does the audience say?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

ummmm. does finishing things count 💀

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I haven’t ever really tackled it before because I only speak english with a minimal command over spanish but i have included a couple words of spanish here or there in tlou fic! it is just very Daunting

19. First fandom you wrote for?

pretty little liars!!! i ran an instagram account with like 1000 followers where I posted fics in the comments at the ripe age of nine 💙

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

THIS IS SO HARD ITS LIKE ASKING ME TO CHOOSE A FAVORITE KID—

it’s the daisycoulson one

(honorable mention for the miller fam vacation 💙)

and honestly if u see this and want to do it consider urself tagged i am too lazy to tag people right now sorryyyyy

[thenewwei]

Today is the 10th Anniversary of the publication of my second book, Good Americans (The Human Tragedy, Volume 1). As such, the Kindle ebook version will be free on Amazon from today Thursday October 12, 2023 through Saturday October 14, 2023. Anybody who wants to check it out for free just needs a free Kindle application for any device. You also have the option of buying the paperback from almost any online bookseller.

From a strictly "literary" perspective, I suppose it is my best published book, but then it is the only ostensibly literary book I've released (until its sequel comes out), a short story collection of 6 stories, a 3-part novella, and a creative introduction.

The collection has a crazy history which I could write a book on itself. The oldest story, "Bridget's Brother," was composed in the winter of 2001 at the University of Oxford in the UK, where I was studying abroad at the ripe age of 20, writing under a special light so I wouldn't get depressed, trying to read (and unsuccessfully like) Henry Green's Loving, biking around George Street, attending the Oxford Union and spying on conversations in Blackwell's Bookshop so I could pick up British slang to use in my work (I also once sat next to Chelsea Clinton, but was too shy to say anything, not to mention that 9/11 had just occurred, making her SS detail all the more apprehensive, I figured. This is also referred to in the story). The story is derived from a real life experience with my fellow students, both American and British, and it shows with its subject matter, "awkward" prose and loose/dynamic construction. The last stories I wrote, "The Apprentice" and the three part jackhammer "Malta: A Love Story," were pumped out the summer before its publication, meant to beef up the collection, and the Introduction was literally written that Fall.

I had been shopping around the book as "Dhan's Debut and Other Stories," sending it to book agents and literary contests I would find in the back of publications like Poets & Writers, AWP Chronicle and Writer's Digest's. I would pay fees, wait for months, and get rejections, over and over again. All the individual stories were being sent out to literary journals and were rejected too. The few journals without word limits were sent "Old Guido." The Florida Review editor sent me back a hand written note telling me how much they admired it--but they still wouldn't publish it. Even "The Mountain," a now praised story within most journal limits, was dismissed.

This was code to me that I was wasting my time with the conventional literary world, just as I had with The Brotherhood. At the same time, I had the revelation that the stories, as a whole, could work as a panoramic portrait of different elements of American society, as collisions of worlds, albeit focused on its dregs. That prompted the creation of the final two stories, and the change in title. For years the story "Good Americans" had been called "A Good American" (and also rejected). I decided to rename it and the entire collection after it.

So while I might have been successful, potentially, at shopping around the new beefed up "Good Americans," at nearly 400 pages, to lit agents, I had zero stomach to do so after so many failures. Instead, I wrote up the satirical Intro as a kind of internal joke, arranged the collection, had readers check typos, and DIY formatted the collection for both ebook and print publications.

It was self-published in Fall 2013 through my own company The New Wei LLC, a year after my first and most popular book The Brotherhood, which would eventually have two sequels.

The few indie reviewers who deigned to read it praised it mightily. Kirkus Reviews called it "a solid collection of rare caliber" that "speaks volumes about the human condition and modern life in America." The Indian reviewer Vault of Books, now deceased, which had dismissed The Brotherhood as a B novel, were amazed at it, calling it a "a great collection of short stories" where "each and every story" "stands out" and "leaves an indelible impression on the mind."

The other indie reviewers also left no doubt this was an important work of American fiction. And yet, still, even after a major publicity tour, radio, TV, print interviews and article publications in HuffPost and Publishing Perspectives, no major reviewers (or publishers) picked it up, simply because of its self-published status.

Other than regular readers somewhat confounded by the contradiction of its low subject matter and high fallutin' self-lauded aims, most of the criticism came on one story, the last one and the original title tale, Dhan's Debut, mostly disappointed or puzzled with its ending. I wasn't surprised by this because I had struggled with the story myself upon composition, rewriting it several times from scratch. It also didn't fit as solidly with the grittiness of the other tales. I had two alternate endings too. I actually think the original ending, a more conventional one, worked better, but a good friend preferred the crazier ending, so I used that one. I realized I could always go back, but I've decided to preserve the published, controversial version for historical purposes.

In any case, now that you know some of the history, perhaps you will be even more intrigued to check out this dynamic work. As Readers' Favorite wrote at the beginning of its mostly praising review, "this book won't be for everyone," but if you're interesting in challenging your perspectives and leaving your inhibitions at its cover, I don't think you'll be disappointed.

And its anthology sequel, Bad Americans, is only a few months from being completed!

Tejas Desai October 2023

[ursbearhug]

🌷💞✨ answer with 3 random facts about yourself, then send this to 10 other people 🌷💞✨

Hi, hello and thank you!

I used to be a giant weeb in my teens, but more so for the vibes (or whatever) than actually liking anime or mango (given that I've watched 7 or 8 titles, maybe). I attended a lot of weeb conventions (12 of them or so) and my first at the ripe old age of 10 I believe. And I even moderated a panel once, with my friend! It was about Elsword in the golden days! Said panel was attended by one jealous incel out of spite; because I dated the girl he wanted to. We both left his stinky-ass guild the following week. He was basic af and I cannot imagine any other way of having sex with him than with something in his mouth and a bag on his head. It's not even about being ugly. It's about being ugly on the inside. He was also homophobic so he was thrice as ugly if you ask me. Now I'm ace and gay and my ex-girlfriend is engaged to a trans guy - suck it bitch. Anyway, yeah. I still have the entrance thing-y with "Dr Aki" as a nickname. I had PhD at the ripe old age of 10. What were you doing with your life?

So I talk a lot about learning English out of spite so maybe now I'll like… Bring the context to this; So in my 1st year of middle school, my English teacher told me I'm not gonna achieve anything in this field because I'm dyslexic and I don't pronounce shit correctly. So I took it upon myself to spit on her face and I started teaching myself by myself; I was reading dictionaries (still do, as a matter of fact, that's a hobby of mine; and according to my favourite greek professor - hers too), watching dozen people speaking English on ytube (usually tried to pick folks of different ethnicities because it's so damn enticing and mesmerising; listening to how different groups speak the same language differently) and so on and so forth. From that year onward, I was finishing every year with the highest possible grade (here, marks go from 1 to 6. With 1 being the lowest, and 6 being the highest - and requiring knowledge beyond the given curriculum) and 3 years later I went to represent my piece of shit worthy high school on English Olympics. It's like a string of tests for nerds. I didn't get really far, to be fair my life was a literal fucking mess at the time, but I got to the 2nd stage (out of 3) and got my ass handed to me by *one* exercise. I can do a lot of shit, but you take letters out of words for me and I'm donezo. I'm pulling the white flag, throwing the towel, tapping out. I can't. So yeah, I'm a machine powered up by spite!

I was a very creative kid in the age bracket of 7 to 14. I was doing pottery classes, drawing classes, I was going to secret club meetings to write stuff. To this day I'm really missing the spark that lived in that little ol' body of mine. Not to be masturbating to my own work but I really loved the style I had back then. My narrative might have sucked from an academic perspective but it was so damn entertaining to read! I made a lot of snarky or interesting commentary in the way I wrote stuff. Some of it is really cringeworthy to read right now; given that my humour has changed a lot, but it just goes to show that kids can be really, really creative. I also had so much time on my hands, because bitch - I was manufacturing love stories like some of the biggest monopolies in this world. Friends to enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, frenemies to frelovers, retellings, original concepts, concepts 'that I thought were original but then I started classical studies', concepts that borderline on copyright theft - you fucking name it. And you know what? Not a single dick in sight. That's right, I was a pure bean even then… I wasn't 2 years later but that's beside the point.

I hope that suffice? Thank you for the ask once again! ^^

[madewithonerib]

​'@ruthparks5120 If you pair v.15 with Mark 13:24-27 then we have a #solid case against pre-tribulation raptures.

1 Thessalonians 4:15 | Death is Sleep By the word of the LORD, we declare to you, we who are alive and remain until the coming of the LORD will by no means precede those who have fallen asleep.

Mark 13:24-27 | Return of JESUS [Matthew 24:26-31; Luke 21:25-28] But in those days 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 the tribulation: ‘The sun will be darkened, & the moon will not give its light; ²⁵ the stars will fall from the sky, & the powers of the Heavens will be shaken.’

²⁶ At that time they'll see the SON of MAN coming in the clouds w/ great power & glory; ²⁷ & HE will send out the Angels to gather HIS elect from the four winds, from the ends of the Earth to the ends of Heaven.

also contemplating how Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl wrote a book his experience at the death camps & in it he noted the vast majority of people curled up & died as though 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗰𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲𝗱, when the 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗴𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺; & Tim Keller noted that only GOD cannot be taken from us.

unless our house [purpose in life] is rooted in the ROCK of Ages [JESUS] then when the storm [or Holocaust] comes a knocking & Nazi's start to seize everything from you including your mind by performing lobotomy none of it will make sense, until we see #devil is allow to do everything but kill us, like he did with Job.

And isn't that interesting that JESUS said in Luke 14:26 “If anyone comes to ME & does not hate his father & mother & wife & children & brothers & sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be MY disciple.

Because it was Job's wife who told him to curse GOD & die like the vast majority of ppl who died during the Holocaust..

unless a seed falls to the ground & dies, it remains only a single seed. If it #dies, it produces many seeds.

𝗔𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 #𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝘁, while anyone who #hates heir life in this #world will keep it for eternal life. [John 12:24-25]

July 29, 2023 @4:21PM

When A Low Key Demon Tricks You | C.S. Lewis [John 12:24-25]

In 1941 C.S Lewis introduced us to a senior demon called Screwtape who is teaching his younger nephew Wormwood how to capture souls for the devil.

One day Screwtape told Wormwood to come here because I want to tell you the three most poisonous lies that will trap millions in Hell:

1.] lie #1 tell them science has disproved GOD and that the Bible has no evidence to back it up

2.] lie #2 tell them they're a good person and that they don't need JESUS CHRIST to get into Heaven; &

3.] lie #3 which will ensure that Millions upon millions of souls will be lost in Hell forever is this, "tell them they have plenty of time"

Tell them they have all the time in the world to make a decision.

My dear friend some of us do not have plenty of time—some of us will not even wake up to- morrow, so I beg you come to JESUS CHRIST.

Right now before it's too late & if this Message personally helped, please consider subscribing

@jabressdolath7657 | July 19, 2023 My husband at the ripe old age of 44 woke up, said he didn't feel well. Called into work for a sick day. He died at 12:50pm that day

@ruthparks5120 | July 21, 2023 Read first Thessalonians 4:13-18 My husband died at 42…

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 | Brothers, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you will not grieve like the rest, who are without hope.

¹⁴ For since we believe that JESUS died & rose again, we also believe GOD will bring with JESUS those who have fallen asleep in HIM.

¹⁵ By the word of the LORD, we declare to you that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the LORD will by no means precede those who have fallen asleep.

¹⁶ For the LORD HIMSELF will descend from Heaven with a loud command, with the voice of an Archangel, & with the trumpet of GOD, & the dead in CHRIST will be the first to rise.

¹⁷ After that, we who are alive & remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the LORD in the air. And so we will always be with the LORD.

¹⁸ Therefore encourage one another with these words.

[nicepoethere]

OLDEST RECRUIT IN PARRIS ISLAND HISTORY!

The average age of a United States Marine Corps recruit is 21 years old. When Paul Douglas enlisted in 1942, he left behind his wife, child, and career and reported to Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island at the ripe age of 50.

After completing boot camp, Douglas proudly wrote “I found myself able to take the strenuous boot camp training without asking for a moment's time out and without visiting the sick bay.”

Following a recommendation from his commanding officer (and a strong recommendation from his old friend Frank Knox,) Douglas was commissioned as a captain in the Marine Corps, after seven months as an enlisted Marine.

Douglas went on to serve in the battle of Okinawa, often being remembered by Marines for running around the battlefield with the vigor of a much younger Marine. He was promoted to major during the battle of Okinawa.

Douglas had been hit by a machine gun in his left forearm and was evacuated by the men that he had dedicated his life to serving. After being hit, he proceeded to use his uninjured hand to take off his major rank insignia so that he wouldn’t receive special attention.

Douglas expressed passionate interest in returning early to his men to continue serving on the front lines. He was hospitalized in San Francisco and subsequently moved to Bethesda, Maryland where it took more than 14 months to be dismissed from the hospital and was medically retired from the Marine Corps, only regaining partial use of his left hand.

Because of his brave actions under fire and unselfish service he was promoted to lieutenant colonel a year after he retired in January of 1947. After returning to Chicago as a war hero, Douglas won his spot as Illinois state senator in 1949. Even in public office Douglas continued to advocate for the Marine Corps, and proudly kept the Marine Corps standard displayed in office.

We here at the 59 Veterans say Semper Fi to you, Sir!

Read the full article here: https://www.dvidshub.net/news/392761/oldest-recruit-history-parris-island

[queenofir]

OLDEST RECRUIT IN PARRIS ISLAND HISTORY!

The average age of a United States Marine Corps recruit is 21 years old. When Paul Douglas enlisted in 1942, he left behind his wife, child, and career and reported to Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island at the ripe age of 50.

After completing boot camp, Douglas proudly wrote “I found myself able to take the strenuous boot camp training without asking for a moment's time out and without visiting the sick bay.”

Following a recommendation from his commanding officer (and a strong recommendation from his old friend Frank Knox,) Douglas was commissioned as a captain in the Marine Corps, after seven months as an enlisted Marine.

Douglas went on to serve in the battle of Okinawa, often being remembered by Marines for running around the battlefield with the vigor of a much younger Marine. He was promoted to major during the battle of Okinawa.

Douglas had been hit by a machine gun in his left forearm and was evacuated by the men that he had dedicated his life to serving. After being hit, he proceeded to use his uninjured hand to take off his major rank insignia so that he wouldn’t receive special attention.

Douglas expressed passionate interest in returning early to his men to continue serving on the front lines. He was hospitalized in San Francisco and subsequently moved to Bethesda, Maryland where it took more than 14 months to be dismissed from the hospital and was medically retired from the Marine Corps, only regaining partial use of his left hand.

Because of his brave actions under fire and unselfish service he was promoted to lieutenant colonel a year after he retired in January of 1947. After returning to Chicago as a war hero, Douglas won his spot as Illinois state senator in 1949. Even in public office Douglas continued to advocate for the Marine Corps, and proudly kept the Marine Corps standard displayed in office.

We here at the 59 Veterans say Semper Fi to you, Sir!

Read the full article here: https://www.dvidshub.net/news/392761/oldest-recruit-history-parris-island

[mindlessblabing]

Cynthia Enloe once wrote, “So many power structures - inside households, within institutions, in societies, in international affairs- are dependent on our continuing lack of curiosity. “Natural,” “tradition,” “always”: each has served as a cultural pillar to prop up familial, community, national, and international power structures, imbuing them with legitimacy, with timelessness, with inevitability.” (The Curious Feminist, 3). Curiosity killed the cat some might say but when death is inevitable so might as well learn as much as you can. Power structures are all around us and are determined by various factors. It is honestly interesting trying to decipher our corner of existence. Education is one of the most important forms of communication we possess. That's where a lot of the complexities of understanding lie. To look at ourselves just as critically as we look at the world builds connections beyond our understanding of reality. So today we'll learn a little more about me and the power structures that embody my life.

I am a vessel of different typically marginalized identities. I am a woman, migrant, bisexual, lower middle class, black, Christian, in my upbringing but agnostic by choice, neurodivergent to an extent, and the list goes on and on. To tackle all of the power structures that have brought me to the words you read on a screen would need a three-part series. I'd still like to think my experiences are not unique, especially through the social connections I've made. So, we’ll begin simply with my family, the genesis of my identity.

I grew up in a matriarchal-dominated family. I am a Kenyan migrant. Brought to the United States by my mother at the ripe age of 5 years old with my sister who was 14. My mother initially made the migration to the states landing at the big apple without her children. Living in Queens, New York sharing an apartment with my aunt Violet and her family. Working as a nanny and later becoming a nurse and caregiver for the mentally disadvantaged. Violet was a United Nations worker and the breadwinner while her husband stayed at home. Despite that my grandmother was a midwife and a mother in all senses of traditional femininity. My grandfather, whom I never met died before my birth. All I have ever known are women running the home.

My sister and I were raised by my aunt Beatrice during the years my mother was in the states by herself. She is probably the most fierce woman I have ever encountered. My other aunts in Kenya and the United States, who were also a major part of my development, held careers as principals of private schools, engineers, landlords, and diplomats. My female cousins were nurses, doctors, wildlife conservators, and businesswomen. The men, in the nicest way, were drunks and leeches. My father, the most direct masculine figure, was a part of my life only in moments and not many of them. Meaning, especially in the traditional sense, the male and their forms of masculine representation in my life were lackluster. Providing very little other than monetary contribution. But Kenya is no different than any nation built on Christianity and patriarchal standards. Regardless of the effort, the men desired to be deemed as the executive.

In contrast, I was brought up by a single mother, alongside my sister who is 9 years my senior. My female family members have usually been dominant while the men take on a more submissive role in parenting and decision-making. I didn't have my father around during my upbringing but never felt like I was disadvantaged by it. My female family members did more than enough to rightfully be the epitome of masculine and feminine. Which is the way that I attempt to live my life. The power structures embedded in my psyche are led by women and a feminist lens. Leading with love, care, patients, and understanding, typically designated to the feminine. while standing by your boundaries, protecting and providing for your own, dominated by the masculine. The binaries of gendered roles prevailed only through the balance and leadership of women.

The headstrong women in my family could have never prepared me for a culture change. Let me start with childhood, which was rough as an immigrant. American tradition lends itself to the agenda of white, male, heterosexual cis men. I know that sentence alone would turn off most Americans. As the black, low-income, immigrant, neurodivergent, queer woman that I am. I found myself at the intersection of too many identities to find a home in one. I entered the American school system with an accent and gall alone. Only to find that I wasn't accepted among my white or my black peers. Seen as too African by culture but too dark to associate with. My African mom didn't want me to associate with black Americans based on the stereotypes of aggression and laziness. White peers didn't see me in their spaces due to preconceived ideas of race perpetuated in their homes. I could be called a nigger on the playground without being accepted by the racial minority I was placed into. Here’s the kicker, also being too poor to ever mention I lived in section 8 housing to anyone regardless of race. Because if there's anything more embarrassing to society other than race it's economic status. At the same turn, I felt unable to discuss it at home. Restricted by my mother who was exhausted from overnights and unaware of the culture; while my sister was navigating American high school and othering for the first time herself. Harken to my essay on the subaltern, I felt voiceless.

That is when I analyzed the power structures of white supremacy and socioeconomic status concerning my life. Who was I, if not misunderstood? I associated myself with anyone as an alternative to culture, finding intersectionality and community by any means necessary. The emo kids were my friends because they as white kids didn't associate fully with whiteness and wealth. The theater kids were my friends because they were able to express themselves through the arts. The shy kids were particularly my favorite. If anyone could understand the nervousness of my silence then maybe they could or maybe even relate but didn't know how to say it, the way I felt.

The powerlessness only grew as I started to understand my sexuality. Gay was not okay in a society growing up. Expressing anything that involved being sexually attracted to the same sex was not heavily supported in my immigrant, Christian household. I am privileged that my mother, despite cultural ignorance, was a saint. She didn't lack judgment but was full of understanding. I never felt, in the typical reality of queer people that I would be drowned or not accepted. I simply felt that it would be the most uncomfortable conversation of my life. Trying to explain a part of my identity that was too taboo for public discourse. So I hid it in fear, kissing girls but saying it was just for fun or male attention. I was around strong women all the time. I knew I was destined to be one. Yet expressing my attraction to them was the more daunting part.

Through all of this, you can imagine my relationship with gender, identity, and power structures was as easy to decipher as a cat's cradle. I never had a definite answer about what was masculine and what was feminine. I wasn't able to discuss my struggles socially and sexually. I had to define it for myself. Enloe claims “making a feminist sense of international politics requires that you exercise genuine curiosity about each of these women's lives and the lives of women you have yet to think about.” In my search for identity, especially as the selfish teenager we all were, I lost sight of connecting or even considering how the women around me found their identity outside of traditional boundaries. The answer is different for everyone but it is usually rooted in self-acceptance and understanding. I was unsure of the power structures in the world because they were so different at home. I was so unsure of how to approach society when I didn't understand the racial and socioeconomic power structures of the United States. I was naive to American exceptionalism and tied my identity to how others viewed me without ever considering how I wanted to be perceived. Feeling too much and too little. Feeling too loud or too quiet. Feeling too black or not black enough. Feeling Kenyan at home but not being immersed in the culture. Feeling like I met the criteria enough to be accepted but only in specific social settings and behavior changes. A chameleon in strobe lights is the way I visualize it. I had to remind myself why the women in my family carved their paths because more often than not the binary is contractive. Identity to me has been a flowing stream. Changed over time and based on my environment.

The women in my life have taught me the most important lesson which is leading with confidence in myself and the rest will follow. I hold dear the labels bestowed upon me for they have helped me grow and shed layers that didn't serve me. I had to define my version of masculine and feminine; And like most things, we all fall on some part of the spectrum. Identity and tradition are merely labels that we can emphasize for our leisure. I am me because and despite traditional power dynamics.

[needcake]

whumptober2021, day 25: escape

This is Part I

Part II is here

.

.

The oat fields were golden and ripe, swaying gently with the breeze, but there was no living soul in sight to harvest them.

His fellow soldiers carried on, talking amongst themselves, sighing over the weather. England lingered behind and waited until they were far enough away before turning on his heel and walking towards the tall stalks, listening to the birds and crows and the water flowing from the nearby stream.

There was no one. No cows, no sheep and no chickens either.

His feet took him to the closest village. The sun had already begun to set, and it cast golden shadows on the quiet houses, coloring the ground in hues of brown and orange.

There should be people working the fields. There should be children laughing and playing. There should be mothers scolding them. England entered a barn and found it empty where there should have been mountains of freshly picked grain, ready to be shipped, sold and turned into porridge. He entered stables, churches, taverns, found them all quiet, all empty.

Golden light filtered through dusty windows, and all it showed him were broken chairs, glasses and carts. Forgotten pieces of clothing left behind in a hasty escape, wooden toys under a dinner table.

The sky changed color as he went in and out of the houses. Purple-pink with a darker shade of blue on the horizon. One of the smaller houses smelled of spoiled milk and rotten eggs. In the bedroom he found six bodies piled on a small straw bed. Someone had forgotten to set the house on fire after they were done.

England stepped out of the house, looked at the golden field of ripe oats swaying in the distance.

And screamed.

-

“What’s your name, kid?”

He cleaned his nose with the back of his sleeve, peered into the book the bishop had on his desk where he was keeping a record of all crusaders heading to the Holy Land. There were seventy Williams, thirty-three Henrys and fifteen Johns on the list.

“William,” he said, and sniffed, cleaned his nose again. The bishop looked at him with clear disgust and wrote down the name he gave him.

“Any last name? Any family here?”

England thought of the King. Of his cousin, the Empress. Of her 14-year-old son who had just crossed the channel from Normandy with a handful of men to wage war against his uncle. He thought of his own family. The sword Scotland had pierced through his chest, the arrow Wales had shot through his neck.

He sniffed again. “No.”

“Any sins you would like to confess? This is your opportunity to unburden your soul before you step foot on the Holy Land.”

England looked at the bishop. A middle-aged man wearing white robes, impeccable calligraphy, clean nails. England’s twelve years of civil war had not touched him. The blood England had spilled did not taint his hands. This man could not fathom the centuries of war he carried on his back, nor the fact that England had no soul to be saved.

“I killed someone,” he said instead, and cleaned his nose again. The bishop frowned at him, shook his head.

“So young,” he commented, but noted down his sin beside his name. “Be in Dartmouth next month. May God bless you, my child,” he said, making the sign of the cross in the air without looking up at him. “All sins will be absolved after you return from the Holy Quest.”

England sniffed and nodded, turned to leave.

He didn’t care.

He just wanted a way out of this fucking island.

-

The captain of the Norman ship looked him up and down and shook his head. “Oh, Great. We’re taking children to die for the Pope now.”

England kept quiet. The first two captains had turned him down and a third had threatened to throw him into the ocean after he found him sneaking into his ship among the barrels of fresh water. He would go for a fifth if this one sent him away as well.

The man sighed. “If you really wanna die that badly I can just put you out of your misery right here and now, son.”

England looked down at the dirt beneath his shoes, but all he really saw were fields of golden oats.

“I need to get away from the war, sir,” he said quietly. “I’d swim to the continent if I knew how.”

The captain stayed quiet after that. Then he flicked his wrist to allow him into his ship and sighed heavily. “You and me both, kid.”

-

He sat between a Flemish man and a man from Norfolk. Every day the Flemish tried to strike up conversation even though his English was rudimentary at best and the man from Norfolk didn’t speak a word of French. England kept quiet, looking at the wood beneath his feet, seeing fields of gold swaying with the gentle breeze, forced to listen as the man told them about his life in Ghent, about his young niece who had just been betrothed to the Count’s third daughter’s son, about his devotion and will to fight and die to win back the Holy Land from the infidels, about his crops of flax that he hoped to expand once he came back from Jerusalem covered in glory.

England almost considered it divine intervention when their ship hit the first storm and the rocking waves occupied his loud companion with violent retching. The man from Norfolk didn’t look much better if his white-knuckled grip on his knees was anything to go by.

Their ship swerved and the tent stretched above them in the rear of the boat was soaking wet and dripping water over their heads. England braced his elbows on his thighs, took his St. George’s medallion from inside his shirt. Golden fields, purple-pink skies, spoiled milk. If the Lord could should him mercy, all he would ask was for a quick death. Let the ocean swallow him into oblivion, let his misery end.

Someone yelled that there was land in sight.

The man from Norfolk clapped him amicably on the back. “Your prayers worked, mate,” he said and England smiled tightly, hid his medallion back inside his shirt.

-

The port city was bustling with energy when they finally disembarked. A Babel Tower of tongues being spoken all at the same time, men yelling, others pleading. A smart merchant making a small fortune selling cups of water from a barrel and fresh warm bread by the waterfront.

He spotted a member of the clergy trying to reason with their captain, his robes dirtied near the bottom, dusty brown coloring his knees.

As England approached, he understood the confusion: he was trying to talk to them in ecclesiastical Latin.

“He wants you to sail south and meet the King,” he translated, and the captain and his men fell silent. The clergyman smiled at him, nodding repeatedly.

“Tell him we’re on a sacred mission to save the Holy Land,” the captain told him, eying England with suspicion.

He relayed the message. His Latin was a little faulty, faded from the corners of his mind and mostly mingled with French, but the man listened and he replied:

“He said the Pope himself called their war a Crusade. He said freeing Lisbon is the same as freeing Jerusalem.”

Their exchange had gathered a number of men and they all began to murmur, some in acquiescence, some in ambivalence. If it’s all the same to the Pope, who are we to judge; what is one stop to aid a nation in need and make a quick buck. Others were more skeptical. Why should we die for those we don’t know? Can’t these people fight their own battles?

The captain watched them through narrow eyes. “How do I know you’re not lying?” he asked, not to the clergyman but to England.

He felt a hand on his shoulder before he could reply, and looked to his side to find the man from Norfolk.

“I say we go to this other city and meet the King to confirm,” he said, and the men around them stopped to listen, murmuring and nodding quietly, before someone far behind exclaimed loudly that they had signed up to fight for the Holy City, not for some King. Many agreed. England felt the hand on his shoulder tighten.

The captain shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said to the Norfolk man, turning around to address the small crowd. “Alright, everyone settle down.”

He ordered the knights back to the ships for the night and the other captains agreed. They would form a council and make a decision in the morning.

“Should’ve told me you spoke Latin, friend,” the Norfolk man said to him with a smile, shaking England’s shoulders a little. “I studied at the seminary myself.”

England smiled back tightly, watched silently as he and the foreign clergyman exchanged a few words.

He breathed in the clear air and looked up at the blue skies, thinking God had a strange sense of humor.

-

A portion of their initial fleet continued on, sailing south towards the Mediterranean. Distantly, he wondered if he should have gone with them. It certainly would have saved him the long conversations he had to endure between the man from Norfolk and the foreign clergyman.

And to think he thought putting up with the Flemish man had been bad.

He watched the coast as they marched south; letting his mind wander while the other two spoke about their lives. He saw the waves lapping on the distant beaches, the people living their lives. A group of fishermen pulling nets full of fish from the water, women hanging clothes to dry with their babies wrapped around their middle, children running from barking dogs.

England swallowed around the lump in his throat and almost missed being spoken to.

“I’m sorry?”

The Norfolk man eyed him curiously. “I asked where did you learn Latin.”

England looked away. “I was a church boy, not too long ago.”

The man made a thoughtful sound, but the hand he kept on top of the sword on his hip was relaxed and steady. “The bishop said there’s a boy in Lisbon you should meet. Said he is a friend of the King. Must be his squire or his page. But it’ll be good to have someone your age to talk to, right?”

England smiled tightly. The last thing he needed was to be paired up with a 16-year-old whose job was to cater to a King’s every need. “Right.”

It was not too late to go back to the ships and leave for the Holy Land.

-

Notes:

Between 1135 and 1153 England went through a civil war called The Anarchy, in which Stephen of Blois fought Empress Matilda for the throne. After years of intense fighting, including wars against Scotland and Wales, as well as wars between different English cities that ravaged the countryside, the war entered a stalemate in 1147, and many barons chose to answer Pope Eugene III’s call for the Second Crusade instead of keep fighting for the two cousins. Especially after Matilda’s 14-year-old son crossed the channel with a small band of mercenary knights looking for action.

Norman ships carrying the crusaders left Dartmouth in May, but were made to stop in Porto in June due to bad weather, where they were convinced by the Bishop of Porto to meet King Afonso Henriques in Lisbon and participate in the Siege of Lisbon.

[current-mcr-news]

frankieromustdie: i found this shirt in my attic... it’s from one of my high school bands, Sector 12. The band was named after where Homer Simpson worked in the nuclear power plant, Sector 7g... however, that name was either already taken or deemed not cool enough so we changed it to 12, which is super clever and meaning(less)ful. 🤦‍♂️ I made this shirt at a Kinkos by photocopying cutout letters and an old denim patch with some safety pins (the main ingredients in any punk rock DIY stew) and then screen printed these shirts in my mom’s basement in Belleville, NJ. Oh and if by some miracle you couldn’t discern how punk we were or that we lived in NJ, we also wrote it on the bottom of the shirt for your convenience. at the age of 13, maybe 14 i wrote a song for Sector 12 called “Gwen Stefani Must Die”. (No Doubt was enormous at the time and because of their popularity and catchy hooks Gwen was thought to be not punk enough to live in a world inhabited by us, the teenage gatekeepers of Punk Rock. 🤦‍♂️ Turns out i just had a crush on her and wanted to impress my friends by not liking popular music.) I now post this flashback of my adolescence at the ripe old age of 38 from my FrankIeroMustDie instagram account... #SomeThingsChange #OthersNotSoMuch

[July 19, 2020]

[humanityinahandbag]

One of the first fandoms I ever got into at the very, very ripe old age of 14 (and by that I mean I unknowingly wrote horrible fanfiction that you'll never see) was Casper the Friendly Ghost (1995).

Looking back, I can see why.

Two broken families winding up together. One dead. One alive. The possibility that they can help one another heal. The rich mine of potential Hurt/Comfort just sitting there, waiting to be found by the brave artists and obsessive movie watchers.

And by jove, I adored it.

Which is why, this holiday season (cough cough Halloween cough cough) I find myself right back in the thick of my Casper days, wondering idly if I could write better fanfiction then my 14 year old self could.

Anyone else find themselves in the Casper mood?

Or is it just me?