#you know the 'instead of brain there is [thing]' meme? i am living that for real. instead of brain there is cats.

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 23: Under a Spell

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Jun (cold)

Caregiver(s): Mingyu (virtually)

Word Count: 878

Notes: Two Jun fics in a row. It's almost like he's my bias-wrecker or something.

“Junnie-Hyung!” Mingu cheered instantly when the Facetime call was accepted. He had been biting his lip, hoping that Jun wasn’t busy. He could’ve always left a voicemail if so, but he just really wanted to talk with Jun tonight. And the feeling appeared to be mutual; the sight of Mingyu made his hyung smile on impact. 

“Mingyuuuu!” Jun exclaimed, shifting around to a more comfortable position. He appeared to be on a couch, wherever he was. “How are you?”

“I miss youuu!!!”

“I miss you too! How are promotions going?” His voice sounded off to Mingyu, but he figured it was the audio quality. 

“Amazing, hyung!” Mingyu sighed. “Everything has been going so smooth, but it’s just different without and Hannie-hyung.”

Jun pouted. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. You’re living your dreams right now! How’s filming?”

“Filming is going great! My scene partners have been fantastic, and…” Jun broke off, disappearing off the screen, sneezing twice.

Mingyu’s face fell. Something in his brain clicked. “Hyung, are you sick?”

Jun nodded, swiping at his nose. “Yeah. Just a cold, though.” 

It was Mingyu’s turn to pout. “I’m sorry to hear that…” 

“It’s okay, really. It was bound to happen. I had to get thrown in a pool for a scene the other day, and wet clothes plus cold weather plus AC blasting inside PLUS erratic sleep hours…” He shrugged. “It’s more annoying than anything.” He sniffled, rubbing at his nose again. “Besides, I’ve had worse.”

“But we’re not there to take care of you!”

“No, and that’s definitely been felt. Luckily I have the next two days off anyway, and my cast mates have been really kind…”

“But they're not us,” Mingyu interrupted. 

Jun shook his head. “No, they’re not you.” 

Mingyu couldn’t fight the frown off his face. Yes, of all the members, Junhui was probably one of the most adept at taking care of himself when sick; he never made a fuss about it but advocated for his needs and spoke up to let others know what was going on, took his medicine and drank plenty of fluids and slept as much as possible. But just because Jun was self-sufficient didn’t mean he had to be. When he was at home, in the dorm, with his team, they knew how to take care of him without being asked. Mingyu knew exactly how Jun liked his tea, knew which blanket in the living room he preferred, knew the recipes that comforted him the most. And knowing that his brother was so far away from all that… it broke his heart.  

“Gyu? Are you still with me?”

“Y-yeah. I’m just… bummed that you’re sick and I can’t be there with you.”

Jun laughed. “I’m pretty sure you have better things to do then hang out with me and my germs.”

“Okay, fine, I’d rather not hang out with your germs, but I’d take them if it meant I could hug you.”

“Are you homesick for me?”

Mingyu blinked. “Honestly, yeah, I think so. Aren’t you?” The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. He slapped a hand against his mouth, eyes comically wide. 

Thankfully Jun laughed before his smile turned thoughtful. “Desperately. But I am also so happy to be here. This all feels so…”  He began to move his hands in a circle, searching for the right word. He opened his mouth to respond, but pitched forward with another sneeze instead. “See, I don’t even have words for how much I miss you!”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Should I let you get back to resting, then?” 

“No, no, I want to hear about the comeback!”

“Are you sure?”

Jun nodded. “Talking with you has been the highlight of my week.”

So, beaming brighter than the sun, Mingyu talked. He explained every detail of their comeback from practice to pre-recording to performances. He explained their outfits, their sets, the memes and jokes that they’d created. After a few minutes, distracted in his story, Mingyu noticed that Jun’s eyes had slipped closed. He hadn’t noticed when that had happened. 

“Hyung? Are you still with me?”

Jun smiled before opening his eyes. “Yes, I’m listening. Your voice is putting me to sleep, though, it’s so peaceful. It’s like magic.” 

“Adila kiya akiya shurapoeh / With a language only we know, I cast a spell,” Mingyu sang softly. Jun beamed. Mingyu continued singing, starting back at the top of “Spell.” Jun moved his shoulders along to the beat, arms twisting and winding in an interpretive version of the actual choreography. Mingyu’s voice grew sillier in time with Jun’s movements until both of them were giggling hysterically. 

Suddenly a knock came on Mingyu’s door. He turned to see Joshua poking his head in, gesturing that it was time for dinner. Mingyu nodded before turning back to the phone. “Okay, hyung, I’m so sorry but I gotta go.”

“That’s okay. Thanks for chatting so long. I love you, Gyu.” Jun formed a heart with his hands. 

Mingyu copied the gesture. “Love you too, Junnie. Feel better soon, okay? Pretend I’m there giving you the biggest hug in the world.”

Jun wrapped his arms around himself. “I can feel the love.” 

“Good. Bye, hyung.”

“Bye bye!” 

[kaijudyke]

i did know beforehand that seeing cats live was probably gonna do something to me. did i know it was gonna do this? no i did not

[snekdood]

i really try to understand why my fellow progressives are so avoidant of actually introspecting on why they think its still cool to bully. im sorry but thats just an inherently conservative thing to want to do.

[blorbocedes]

very random place to ask but how do u deal with things that u can’t change abt urself (not just physical but for ex: i am short asf and i rlly rlly dislike it. it dictates how i feel abt myself, which isn’t most of the times but it’s always there at the back of my mind and it makes me feel super bad)

you know that meme?

it's true.

there's actually very few fixed things about yourself you can't change. but what you can change is how you perceive it. human brains acclimatise really fast, but you're the only person who has to live in your body 24/7 so you end up obsessing over it wayyyy more than anyone else. for example, I know this person with a very big mole on their face. like it's the first thing you'd notice about them. but after we met a few times, I barely noticed it anymore beyond just another neutral physical trait - like blue eyes or person with green highlights in their hair. and they're happily married.

one of my economics professors was actually a tiny 4'10 lady with a high pitched voice, and the way she conducted herself we all respected and were terrified of her. it's all in the way you carry yourself.

obviously it's super easy to say "hey don't be insecure about the thing you can't change and are insecure about" and much harder to do, but not impossible. I really like this quote from tyrion lannister, a character from among other things was a dwarf:

'Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you.'

wearing it like an armour doesn't mean being defensive and making a 100 "haha im sooo short 🤪 fun sized!" jokes before anyone else can. it's having the mentality when others look at you and size you up, you can feel 'yeah, I'm short. so what?' cause you aren't defined by that one physical trait. so going back to the original image above, get goals/hobbies to focus on so the time spent hating yourself obsessing over your height, you can focus that energy on something more productive. so instead of hyper focusing that you were the shortest person in the group pic, you can think how you made a kickass cheesecake that everybody in the group loved or how you're a really good friend they can always call whenever.

there's lots of ways to pose for pics to look taller/dress a certain way/wearing comfy wedge heels to have a couple more inches if that helps you! but ultimately, have things about yourself you value and like more than hating things about yourself you can't change, and that'll help boatloads. you've only got one fleeting life on earth to carry it with a chip on your shoulder.

[141goblin]

Soft: Chapter Four.

—> Chapter three

CW: Slightly suggestive. Hangover.

A/N: I posted the wrong chapter by accident🤦🏼‍♀️my bad. This chapter is a little short but I promise, it’ll get juicy soon :3

I wake up the next morning to find Amelia already gone and a little note laying on my bedside table, scrawled in her writing.

“Early shift at work, gotta go. Love you x”

The second I make any attempt to sit up out of bed, my head begins pounding, a cruel reminder of the sheer amount of alcohol I consumed last night. Yet another stupid decision that’ll make me waste another day lazing around and not doing anything productive. I somehow manage to stumble out of bed and into my bathroom. Because i’m an idiot, I slept in my makeup, breaking one of the most important rules I ever set for myself; never ever sleep in makeup. Crumbs of mascara descend down my dehydrated cheeks, lipstick clinging to the dry parts of my lips.

I wash away the remnants, praying that a bit of cold water and soap will help me to feel a bit more like a human being, rather than a zombie. It does, but not by much. The next thing on my list is to eat something, a proper meal, rather than just bits and pieces of random things laying around my cupboards. I usually opt for what known as ‘girl dinner’, a random assortment of little snacks. My go-to has been pickles with some tortilla chips, and apple slices with peanut butter. Instead of my usual ‘girl dinner’, I make myself a small bowl of pasta with some leftover sauce I have. Carbs will soak up the alcohol, I think.

Once I have something substantial in my stomach, the hangover is slowly starting to fade. It’s still there, but it’s gone from unbearable to just unpleasant. My head still hurts, but the spinning has subsided, luckily. I open my curtains and the windows, letting in some air to rid the smell of wine and takeaway food from my flat. It doesn’t take me long to clear up, putting the empty bottles and packages into the bin and the dirty clothes into the laundry. Now, my flat actually looks somewhat homely, rather than a biohazard. Look at me go, I think.

It’s well into the day, almost 3pm when I decide to reward myself with some well-earned phone time of scrolling on the same three apps for longer than i’d like to. I get into position on the couch, legs sprawled out and open tik-tok, scrolling endlessly on silly videos of cats that warm my heart and stupid memes. I make a mental note to look into getting a cat after I’ve learned to take care of myself. Id love a cat right now, but the poor thing wouldn’t last long. I can’t even look after myself most of the time, let alone another living thing.

The ‘ding’ of the washing machine interrupts my phone time and forces me to get my arse up and finish my chores. I drag the wet clothes out and carry them over to the dryer, turning it on and letting it run. After that, I scoop up the warm, dry clothes off the floor and carry them into my bedroom to fold and put away, like the responsible, functioning adult i’m pretending to be. I’m stopped in my tracks when I plop down on my bed and see a suit jacket hanging up on the drawer of my dresser.

Price’s jacket. Shit, his text.

The laundry gets completely forgotten and I pull up his message from last night.

Unknown: Lovely seeing you tonight, dove. Think you still have my jacket. -JP

My brain begins spinning again as I try to formulate some sort of answer that will make me seem like a normal human being. It takes me a good few minutes of typing and then deleting, but I get there in the end.

Me: I apologise for my rant, I was a bit of a mess. Let me know when you’re free and we can arrange getting your jacket back to you. P.s. the party wasn’t that bad.

I hit send on the message and eagerly await his response, like a teenager with a crush. Fucking stupid, I think. The first time a man has shown me attention in a few weeks and here I am, waiting with baited breath for him to-

Unknown: I told you, dove, no apologies. There’s fire in you, I like that. And as for the jacket, there’s no rush. Hope your head isn’t too sore today. -JP

I giggle like a schoolgirl as soon as I read his text. My brain is screaming because the handsome man with the broad shoulders is texting me, but I take a deep breath to calm the giddiness. He hasn’t exactly left it open-ended so I decide not to reply and wait for him to text next, not wanting to get too ahead of myself, only to be let down because I jumped to conclusions.

I finish the rest of my chores, his texts pinging in my brain. I start to imagine what it’d sound like in his voice as i’m doing the dishes from tonight’s dinner. I imagine his deep, rumbly voice, the voice that makes my fucking bones tingle and brain shake in my skull. I imagine pressing my face against his neck as he talks, feeling the vibrations against my lips. I imagine his voice calling me that stupid nickname, ‘Dove’. I’ve never been called that before, by anyone else, but it’s fast becoming my favourite nickname. It’s better than ‘hot tits’, anyway, the name my ex-boyfriend used to call me when he’d try to be smooth. When I think about it, my ex is nothing compared to Price. Sure, he’s tall and conventionally attractive, but he doesn’t have the same attitude he does. He doesn’t exude masculinity and confidence the way he does.

For fuck sake, I’ve only met the man once and here I am fantasising about him while I pretend to watch yet another rerun of gilmore girls, my attention on him rather than the screen.

I know i’m getting ahead of myself, getting too excited, but I can’t bring myself to care. For the first time in a long time, I let myself indulge in the thoughts and fantasies about the handsome man i’ve only met once. The thoughts continue well into the night, from when I curl up on the couch, to when I settle into bed, hand between my thighs and mind full of his voice. My sticky skin shines with sweat and my moans echo off the walls of my bedroom. I’d normally worry about being heard by the neighbours, but my mind is too full of Price to give a shit.

tags: @izziyuwh @a66-1 @jenniferpendragon @girl-of-multi-fandoms

[goron-king-darunia]

Annon-Guy: Everything okay?

Yeah, I'm doing pretty good. Catching up on Tumblr is really difficult though. Every time I take a break to do anything there are like 30000 posts to look at. I might just have to contend with the fact that there's no catching up. Internet FOMO. My brain keeps going "Well what if someone made a really funny post while I was away?!" And like... If it was really that funny it would come back around.

I still have no idea where that ask I answered went and I'm too burnt out still to try to retype it.

I am still cranking out fanfic and I am enjoying the 1.6 update of Stardew Valley though. And I made a yummy pasta dinner yesterday.

So overall I'm just... Tumblr exhausted. Everyone makes too many good posts all the time and the need/desire to tag all of them appropriately is massively kneecapping my ability to interact. Couple that with my IRL responsibilities of taking care of my Mom and handling my own adult life just means I spend my limited free time on meatspace tasks like knitting/crocheting and embroidery or on actually gaming or writing instead of my old routine which was... scrolling tumblr until I caught up for the day, usually dumping more than half of the posts in my drafts for future me, and then using whatever free time I have left to write or game. So I'm okay. But I think I'm honestly just... not going to be able to be available on Tumblr indefinitely. This legitimately might have to just be a hobby place now where I pop in to check up on friends, post notable things like finished projects, and then just dip out and ignore most posts. there's simply not enough time in my life to engage with all the fun things I want to.

But even though I'm a bit burnt out, I'm happy. I get to eat better food now that I cook more, I get to make more cool things now that I knit and crochet and embroider more. I get to handle more of my life which is honestly needlessly complicated (I will rage against taxes being obtuse on purpose forever), but it means I have more control over what happens which isn't much, but it helps me feel like a functional adult instead of a leaf in a stream. And I still have time for fun stuff. That fun stuff just... isn't on Tumblr so much.

All my fruitless efforts to "catch up" on here have done is just give me more drafts to dig through than I can manage and kept me away from doing more of the things I love.

So I'm going to try to do more targeted things on here. Post more original content, reblog a bit less, give up on catching up, and just try to give whatever energy I have on here to specific friends.

Feel free to keep sending me DotNW stuff. I almost always have energy for that. But I don't think I have the time and energy in me to go over a bunch of new things.

Physically I'm drained, mentally I'm fried. But it's okay. I think that I just have to let go and deal with the fact that having to step up and be an adult means I have to choose what's really important to me. And scrolling through memes on Tumblr is fun. But it's not fulfilling. I don't really want to spend 6 hours every day just catching up on what everyone else is sharing and then another 10 hours some other day scrolling through stuff I saved for later because I was too tired to read it the first time.

I want to spend more time creating my own things.

So I think from now on I'm just going to be extra picky about what I engage with on Tumblr, especially because engaging with stuff on here with only half my brain because I'm exhausted means I can only give half the attention to things that they deserve. I will try to post more of my own things so you know I'm still around and I will try to answer more often. But I think including Tumblr in my routine is no longer a sustainable thing.

It's like trying to live at a themepark. There's a lot of good stuff here, but very little of it helps me be the person I want to be. I don't want to just consume other people's content. I want to make stuff.

So I'll be around. But I think I'm going to start making really hard decisions about what I can and can't give attention to.

That said, seeing you build your own little community by hosting polls and engaging with other fandom blogs is really nice. I'm glad you're able to reach out and connect with so many new people. Tumblr is really great for that. I'm happy to be your DotNW contact, but I think I may have to trim down my engagement on Tumblr to just that. DotNW, maybe some legend of Zelda, maybe some cat memes and positivity. I'm going to trim away a lot of political stuff first and foremost because I'm pretty bad with that and I'm going to try to limit my meme engagement and long posts and see how that does. And if I need to trim down even more, then I will. But from now on, I think I just have to be decisive.

And I've decided the best use of my time is much less Tumblr.

I'll still be around, but it's definitely going to be sporadic. Doesn't mean we're not friends. Just means I'll get to all the fun things you want to share in a much longer timeframe.

I hope you are well, too. I think this is just one of those things where I have to completely transform my life. It's not bad. It's just different. I'm still doing all the things I love. I'm just putting more effort into the things that I love more.

Sorry for the long post. I think this is as "back" on Tumblr as I can be.

Thank you for loving me and sharing your joy of gaming with me! Even if I can't be on Tumblr as much, I will try to make space for you in my life!

[c1tyhaunts]

─ PEOPLE I'D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER !

ALIAS / NAME : jacket.jpg (the handle to most of my socmed) or xera (alias) BIRTHDAY : September 19th ZODIAC SIGN : Virgo HEIGHT : 5'4" HOBBIES : writing, listening to music, weight lifting, watching youtube essays, reading novels & manga - i keep myself busy lmao FAVOURITE COLOUR : pastels or jewel-toned cool colors, including purples, blues, greens; also black & brown lol FAVOURITE BOOK : Mexican Gothic by S*lvia M*reno-G*rcia still ranks as one of my favorites; great descriptions, eldritch horror, and one of the better well written romance side plots. plus the final chapter? slays me every time LAST SONG : I'm right now powering through the new Ar*ana Gr*nde album as i write this so eternal sunshine. LAST FILM / SHOW : ... my boys and i were binging the live action ATLA to judge it. it's very, very mid. Now currently watching Iron Reign at the request of @artmadc RECENT READS : Pride & Prejudice for my book club, personal reads included House of Cotton by M*nica Br*shears (Great stylistically, content wise? Very, very strange. I'm still conflicted), Grown by T*ffany J*ckson (An AMAZING READ), and Heartsick by Ch*lsea C*in (give me hannibal lecter but make her a woman; we accept woman's wrongs here) INSPIRATION : BOYYYYY I am heavily, heavily inspired by the music I'm listening to in the moment, so here's a few albums that have my current Brain Rot™ for the blog. tl;dr: i love messy people ↪ Dead Club City - N*thing But Thieves (biggest blog inspo RN) ↪ Dawn FM - The W*eknd ↪ After Hours - The W*eknd ↪ Lemonade - B*yonce STORY BEHIND URL : ↪ based on the song "City Haunts" by N*thing But Thieves; the album, DEAD CLUB CITY, has a loose plot based in the fictional city that the album's named after, and City Haunts is the end of one of the character's story lines from the album. The vague premise of "City Haunts" is that the character we are following in this context is choosing to stay in Dead Club City, letting themselves succumb to the madness and vices that keeps them tied to the city. Which these eight characters on the blog have some sort of Vice/Virtue that they've succumbed to that they need to climb out of (or not, I promote character detractment instead of growth). ↪ the url is also a reference to a "haunt" on multiple levels - a) a place frequented by a specific person or group of people, b) to continually seek the company of, or c) to stay around or persist; for all the characters on this blog, I feel like each of them are going their own "haunt", whether they are doing the haunting themselves or they continue to linger / stagnante in a place they shouldn't. They're all haunting this so-called "Dead Club City" and they have to figure out what to do there... Plus, the url looks cool. FUN FACT ABOUT ME : I've been one of the top performers at my job for the past 2+ years which is apparently achievement. Sales is a scam. Don't do it kids.

tagged by: @artmadc <3 tagging: i love goin down my most recent follows w this meme so @allevils, @obrighta/@haeymitch (whichever!), @rottine, @fiendrites, @bloodykneestm and YOU, cause I wanna get to know you too :)

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Dear Academia, I guess you can die mad about the curtains, if it bothers you that much...?

Wow, I just watched... Wow.

(I didn't really just watch it. I saved this and sat on it to see if I cooled off and decided I was being too mean. Since then, I've tripped over another essay where someone ripped into a work because they didn't understand it well enough to see the curtains at all, and I didn't like that either. I've decided to post this, so later I can post my reaction to the other one like a matching bookend!)

I made you a graphic about it!

So, I just watched my High School AP English teacher transcend time and space, possess the body of an a YouTuber, and try to drag me for quitting my English major due to being sick of dissecting the work of other writers until it dies.

Also, they put text up on the screen that I was supposed to read, over a decorative text background, and if I could pull money out of their Patreon, much like Mark Twain with the collection plate, I would've taken a nickel. For spite.

So, I guess I'm gonna talk about the blue curtains?

First of all, don't go looking for the video to drag this person. At worst, they are a little self-important and over-emotional. At best, their brain got shredded by the same process mine rejected and they are recovering. Be kind. I don't wanna hurt them, I'm trying to fire over their head. And take this with a grain of silly.

This is the meme. I couldn't find the original, uncensored version, and I don't care all that much, so here ya go.

One of YTer's friends referenced this meme, and it offended their intelligence and ability to critique art. Instead of having a more typical reaction, like thinking, "Ah, yes, you are only expressing your frustration with the school system's unreasonable expectations. As a fellow sufferer, I shall express my solidarity, and henceforth we shall share a sensible chuckle," and then chuckling sensibly, they telegraphed their offence to a slur on Art itself and wrote an essay. Of course, it is Capitalism's fault.

Now, Capitalism is most definitely tearing up the school system and inflicting lasting trauma on everyone involved and hurting Art. There is a lot of meat to be had on this bone. I would've left money in the collection plate for an engaging essay on that!

What I got was: "Art exists for you to tear it to pieces and squeeze every last instance of poetic meaning out of it, like you're hucking an orange into a juicer, and if you don't do that, you're dumb. Capitalism has made you dumb, because your dumbness is more profitable. I, on the other hand, huck Art into the juicer that is my brain, as one should, because I'm smart. The curtains are never blue. Fight the Power."

And right away, I thought: Oh, Mrs. Hillburn, I know this is how you enjoy Art. I know you really love it. You full-body crashed into a filing cabinet while explaining the Canterbury Tales to us, so I know you really do love "close reading" and want to share your joy. You're allowed to do that! God love you! But sometimes the curtains are blue.

And that wouldn't be a problem - except your job is to judge everyone on their ability, not only to interpret the curtains as something other than blue, but also to cough up a "valid" interpretation. And your judgment will affect whether they can get a job that pays them enough money to live. Now, you are free to do that. When I write things, I give them to the world! But, I'm not doing that to help you sort the children into an appropriate pay grade by demanding that they enjoy my work in the same way you do. Why would I do that? That makes no fucking sense.

I am saying this as someone writing a long-ass story that has a lot to do with objects being a certain colour and numbers adding up to a certain sum. That's there for you if you want it! Pink things are safe, orange things are hazardous, yellow means despair, and green-and-orange together is something unpleasant, because Erik doesn't like carrots and the whole world revolves around him. (Don't tell him, he'll be very upset. The world is terrible.) Do I need you to get that in order to understand my work and be "smart"? Fuck no. It's an Easter Egg. Also, it amuses me. Sometimes you need to know the number or the colour for your immersion, so I generate one in a way that has meaning for me.

There is shit in that story that I know you'll never get, because I based it off shit I wrote as a teenager that you'll never read. (It was terrible. I fixed it. I think.) This is my own personal "Glass Onion" (the song, not so much the movie). I am not obliged to imbue everything with a meaning for you to find. I'm not secretly trying to tell you Paul is dead! I'm just a human being with a sense of humour who gets bored - and sloppy and confused too.

So maybe the curtains are blue because I'm cribbing the setting off this motel room I stayed at one time and the curtains were blue. Maybe I'm saying "Hi" to my dog. Or the Blue's Clues dog. Maybe, god help us, there were actual blue curtains at the time and place I set my story and you'd see them if you found a photo. But I'm not gonna tell you if it doesn't matter. And it's not your job to make it matter if you don't get it. You can still pick up what I'm laying down. And, dammit, if you spend too much time wrapped up in the curtains, you might miss the rest of it.

There seems to be some idea that Art is hard and artists (at least #Real_Artists) must be something more than human to do it. Oh. My. God. Literally! You created this thing? Everything is there because you put it there? Everything that exists here is a thought-child you birthed from your brain like Athena? With intent? I enjoy it so much! It feels so real! How do you DO that? And, for fuck's sake, it's the same way you make a yummy sandwich or pick out a ripe melon or trim the cat's nails without getting a wound that needs stitches. You decide you want to, and you keep at it until you get good at it. You don't need to ask permission or pay a fee. The world is a classroom. Go learn. Keep trying until you figure out a way that works for you, or you decide you'd rather learn something else - and then go learn that instead.

The pedestal is very flattering, but nobody belongs up here. The very idea of a pedestal is preventing people from picking up a tool and making a thing. Can you, a mere mortal, really create a new reality from scratch, where everything is intentional and full of meaning? FUCK no! Nobody can do that! Sometimes I am lovingly imbuing every facet of my creation with meaning, and sometimes I go, "I need something there. Huh. That looks good." This is where platypuses come from! And I love them! If you don't love a platypus, WTF is wrong with you?

See??

Look, Creationism has no place in our schools. Natural selection is a thing. If I'm drawing on a real experience that involved blue or blue curtains, you may get some blue curtains. That is a real thing that happens all the time. It's not fair to torpedo someone's earning potential because, wherever you're coming from, blue makes you feel sad. You shouldn't be in a position to do that, that is not a job that needs doing.

*sigh* And, I will let you in on a dirty little secret. Sometimes I drop a stitch when I'm working, and I notice it later, and I realize I can hook that thing and make something look really cool and intentional. But it wasn't. It's there because I needed something there and it looked good. Ah, but as I've been writing, I've generated a reason for it to be there, and I now I have an opportunity to grab that sucker. I have picked up some amazing dropped stitches. I'm thinking of one in particular, a long series of dropped stitches, and when I was able to pick them all up in one swoop, I pretty much leapt up and screamed, "THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM! I LIVE IN THE MATRIX! SOMEBODY PUT THIS HERE AND I KNOW IT WASN'T ME!" (I haven't published it yet, it's gonna be a while.) Be that as it may, you live in the Matrix with me, and the Architect might leave something like that for you too. It's not 'cos I'm doing it on purpose.

If everything must have a purpose and you're not allowed to enjoy the work unless you find every last one like it's Wally/Waldo, you may find that you've lost some of the gestalt, and the virtuosity, and the feeling. That's what started happening to me when I went to college to "learn about literature." There was value in that. Comp. Lit. was fantastic! But, they are trying to sort you into an appropriate pay grade (mine is "Institutionalized and/or Housewife") , and they must judge something. The amount of Waldos you've found is quantifiable! And so, the academic need to huck Art into a juicer also has a basis in Capitalism. Man, that shit gets everywhere.

If you love it, like Mrs. Hillburn, go for it. We see you, and we leave things for you to find, like the dev team hides gag gifts in Dracula's castle for the completionists. But if it sucks all the life out of the work and makes it a joyless slog, like it did for me - stop. Please. Or go rip up some other artist's work that's already been sacrificed for the purpose and analyzed to death. It's almost impossible to read The Great Gatsby for its own sake anymore. Even if you're out of school, you're still gonna remember finding the Waldos and tick all the boxes every time. I hope like hell going into the Public Domain can fix that.

I will finish with a tortured metaphor, because that's what I do. That's fun for me. Let's say I'm God. (Because I am. Did I say "simile"? Right. I'm God and your prayers are keeping Me up at night. Cut that out.) I've made this frog*!

I made him because I love making things - and because I love making things, I made a lot of things, and I think I'm pretty good at that. But it's no fun for Me if I don't get to share him with someone who can love him just as much as I do - for whatever reasons of their own. Adam! Look! Look at the frog I made!

Yes, Adam, you can play with him however you like! Isn't it neat how everything about him fits together? See his little toesies? If you rub his tummy, his little legs kick. Ha. Uh, you might be stressing him out a little, there, Adam. But that's okay! I made him for you to LOVE and...

Adam, what are you doing with the scissors?

Ah. Well, yes. Yes. The insides of things are very interesting. Yes, everything about him fits together. Yes, if you hook him up to a battery, his little legs kick. Ah, but he's dead. You do know that you've killed him, right? OK. Well, look, if you really want to understand how frogs work that badly, I don't mind if you cut one up...

Or two...

ADAM, THAT IS NOT WHAT FROGS ARE FOR! I want them to LIVE, I...

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. No, if that's how you want to play with the frogs, I guess...

ADAM. WHY ARE YOU CREATING AN INSTITUTION THAT TEACHES ALL YOUR CHILDREN THAT'S WHAT FROGS ARE FOR?

What? No! Don't... Don't PUNISH them for refusing to cut up the frogs, WTF is WRONG with you? No, no, of course they must engage with the frogs to understand them - I DO want all of you to understand them! Please don't ever think I don't! - but there's a LIMIT to... No, of course I still love you, but you don't have to...

If you do that to every frog you see, there will not be any more frogs, are you hearing me? I WILL STOP MAKING THEM OUT OF SPITE.

*sigh* No. Of course I won't actually stop making frogs, but... Can we at least come to an understanding that sometimes the curtains are blue?

*I know it's a toad. I needed a Public Domain image of a frog cupped lovingly in human hands, and the best image on the first page happened to involve a toad. Paul lives (as of this writing), and the platypus exists because I thought it looked cool. Now put down the onion and go analyze something else.

[kerubimcrepin]

Episode 39 - The Love Killer

AKA the yandere dogboy episode. Yippie!

I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE. To bring back the meme:

God won't let me die...

The translation is not finished because I do not give a fuck, but here is where I stopped. I doubt anyone else will give a fuck either, considering it's just a keysmash.

He's never beating those japanese-coded allegations.

Silly aprons are a family tradition.

I wonder if this is where Kerubim lived considering he, like... didn't have a house. Or a family.

Oh my god, the shitty magical merchant guy had a shitty magical merchant mom.

I see claws on a catboy and my brain turns off. Kill me.

You can't be talking like that, Ouginak baby. Btw the can says "fish".

KERUBIM LIKES TO COOK. SEE? I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOU. He's an Amaknean boy, like Yugo. And he's cooking crepes!

Though, he's... bad at it.

Presented without commentary.

Do not be making that face while in the same litter box as Keke, oh god.

Ecaflips use litterboxes confirmed.

UNDERAGE DRINKING REAL.

I bet Kerubim is the one who buys bamboo milk for the gang. He can probably pass for a very short ecaflip man, instead of a teenage boy.

People reading my blog talking about it be like: this is scary, downright creepy.

Also, whatever I imagine happened between Kerubim and Atcham is also scary. Even downright creepy.

The Astrubian lake tower, my beloved.

Somehow, despite being a boy, Kerubim has managed to have two evil adolescent girl friendships that end in your friend (who is a tar pit) sending you messages saying that she will "kill you with a knife" the next time she sees you at school. (One with Patafiks, and another with his literal brother.) This too, is feminism.

I like to think that while in the orphanage, he had to break up like this with Atcham too. Like "I know we're brothers, but um. uh. I don't want to be seen with you anymore. I mean—— you get beat up constantly, and people hate you, and then they hate me when you're nearby. Which is a bummer. Also you threaten everyone too much after they beat you up, and it's stressful. And I can't take it anymore... We can still be friends though,, haha."

I like to think Atcham's response was "I AM GOING TO KILL MYSSSELF AND IT WILL BE YOUR FAULT." or something. I like to imagine he had that ~mentally ill child~ style flair for the dramatic at that age. I like to think they were both awful to one another.

Another thing I like to think to myself, is that Atcham got kicked from the orphanage and ended up in Brakmar, and the reason he got kicked out is stabbing someone. Perhaps Keke, during some argument, — or perhaps someone else, in retaliation to whatever bullying he was going through. And that Kerubim was scared shitless of him by the end.

I just think it's a fun thought.

Basically, if that Ruby girl, Patafiks, and Atcham smoked weed together in a Bad Mentally Ill Bitches Obsessed With Revenge Club, Pangaea would reform.

Since this is already an Atcham headcanon heavy blogpost, I will say, I think using The Love Killer on Atcham would have fixed his every single problem.

Sadly, Kerubim has spent his entire life under the impression that Atcham actually hates him, whereas in actuality, whatever the fuck is happening, is 20 times funnier.

After a single minute of prodding by Joris he switches to therapyspeak and goes "well i need SOMEONE to be mad at. it's like a coping mechanism. if i need to be mad at something, it might as well be kerubim. because he's there. 😥"

It's interesting that with Patafiks and his ecaflip friends it took a second for them to hate him enough to cut all ties.

It's also interesting that this doesn't happen to Simone: Julie and her were on a bad date, but they were on it for a long time. And, Kerubim and Joris were haters for her, but all they could manage is some cleaning complaints.

Basically: Perhaps it can't ruin bonds that are very deep or genuine as fast? An enchantment meant to test the sincerity of a bond, gone awry? Or maybe I'm reading too much into this.

Flash frame!

As I've said in the previous blogposts: I really do think that Kerubim has a crush on Simone. Not in any creepy way — she's just the type of woman he's always liked, — headstrong and stylish, like Lou!

It's very cute. I am a big fan of friendships with one-sided crushes in media, especially when it's not awkward, or pointed out often, (the only exception being Dipper's whole Wendy-shtick in Gravity Falls. I think it was a pretty cool portrayal of the concept, despite being awkward), — because that's a very human thing that we can't really control, y'know?

It makes their friendship much more wholesome to me, personally.

Man. I love this show. And this silly old man. Even though he did fuck up superbly with the whole raising Joris thing.

[marypsue]

Ooh, I know quite a few of these but I am most intrigued by relativity falls but it's stranger things. I am very curious as to what that looks like

[from this meme]

Ah yes, the Stranger Things ageswap AU! Also known by its working title, that same small town in each of us. This one got its document title from its premise, which comes from Gravity Falls fandom, where an AU that swaps the ages of the two main groups of characters (called Relativity Falls) is huge. I was a little baffled, when I first started dabbling in Stranger Things fandom, by how much the two shows had in common and how much overlap there was between the fandoms, but how this concept hadn't seemed to turn up in Stranger Things fandom at all.

The basic concept is season one of Stranger Things, except the kids are the teens, the teens are the adults, and the adults are the kids. So Hawkins, Indiana Chief of Police Nancy Wheeler is investigating the mysterious disappearance of twelve-year-old Joyce Byers, her old high school flame Jonathan Byers' youngest child. Joyce's best friends, Jim Hopper and Nancy's daughter Karen Harrington, are also looking for Joyce - and find a monster instead. And sixteen-year-old Mike Harrington's bonding with Jonathan's son Will over searching for Will's missing sister - and helping hide the tattooed psychic punk they found badly injured in the woods from the United States government. Also, Nancy's ex-husband Steve Harrington is just trying to parent his estranged children and stop seeing monsters that definitely can't be there coming out of the walls.

I am stuck, badly, in the middle bit, and desperately trying to figure out how to get from there to the big third-act reveal that I've got up my sleeve (noticing a pattern, here?). Also, I'm painfully in love with Extremely Divorced police chief Nancy.

In that vein, have a sample:

Nancy’s woken by a hammering on the inside of her skull. It takes her a moment to regain her bearings and work out that it’s also coming from the front door of her trailer.

She squeezes her eyes shut and then opens them again, sits up on the couch and then immediately wishes she hadn’t. The morning light is searingly bright. It feels like somebody poured sand under her eyelids while she was out. Her stomach is threatening mutiny. Her limbs all seem to belong to somebody else – a much clumsier somebody else. The room reels.

And that relentless hammering hasn’t let up.

“All right,” Nancy groans, pressing a hand over her eyes and leaning into the relative cool of her palm gratefully until the angle makes her precarious stomach lurch. Did something crawl into her mouth and die while she was out? It tastes suspiciously plausible. “All right, I’m coming!”

It takes her two tries to get up off the couch. She bangs her shin, hard, against the coffee table as she makes her way across the living room, and barely keeps from faceplanting into the carpet. There’s a glassy rattle as the bottle and her mug wobble against the table’s surface, and Nancy just manages to catch the bottle before it topples over and pours the last half-inch or so of whiskey all over the papers still scattered across the tabletop.

The hammering starts up again while Nancy’s in the middle of this delicate operation, and she swears under her breath before bracing herself to risk a yell. “I said I’m coming!”

When she swings the door open, blinking into the blinding glare, Jonathan Byers takes a startled step back.

“You look like shit,” he says.

“I feel like shit,” Nancy answers. “What is it?” Fear settles like a stone through the turmoil in her stomach. There’s a lurch as her brain finally, finally engages and kicks into gear. “Not Joyce?”

Jonathan frowns at her, but Nancy’s pretty sure it’s confused, not angry. “No. You called me. Last night? You said you had new information you wanted to share with me?”

Nancy doesn’t remember doing anything of the sort. “Um.”

Jonathan’s eyes narrow a little farther. He doesn’t sound surprised, just disappointed. “You’ve been drinking.”

Nancy makes a token effort to straighten up, shaking out the mess she knows her hair must be and smoothing down the front of her hopelessly wrinkled, obviously-slept-in tee shirt. Too late, she realises she’s wearing her pyjamas – which is to say, one of Barb’s tee shirts with the café logo splashed across the chest, and a pair of boxers she’s pretty sure she stole from Steve. How very professional. “What I do when I’m off duty is none of your business.”

Jonathan’s frown doesn’t change. “It is while my daughter’s still missing.”

Nancy lets her eyes sink shut.

“Ally told me I might find you here,” Jonathan says, out of the darkness of the inside of Nancy’s eyelids. There’s a begrudging sympathy in it as he adds, “She said she wasn’t really expecting you in today. That Barbara had died.”

Nancy doesn’t open her eyes. The breath that escapes her sounds suspiciously like a sigh.

“You should come in,” she says, making up her mind.

She knows even as she says it that it’s a bad idea. That she shouldn’t be sharing this kind of information with a civilian, especially not this early in the investigation, especially not one who’s so closely involved in the case – but. It’s Jonathan. Whatever the stupid rumours about him had been back in high school, he’s about as likely to have had anything to do with his own daughter’s disappearance as he is to grow wings and fly.

And if she really had called him last night, Nancy knows why. Their exposé for the school paper on lunchroom dessert-hoarding had gotten them both that summer internship at the Post the year they graduated. Nancy Wheeler is not someone who needs people, but even she has to admit, when it comes to this kind of stuff, she works better with Jonathan than with anyone else.

And, it might be smart to get a second set of eyes on her theory, before she tries to put it in front of Erica Sinclair.

Jonathan hesitates on the step, face screwing up in a grimace, and Nancy sighs, again. Of course, she should have considered the possibility that he’d take her invitation the wrong way. “Strictly platonic. I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

Nancy’s a little surprised when Jonathan actually follows her though the door into the living room. She tries not to take the way he looks around as an insult. “I haven’t had a chance to clean up,” she says, grabbing dirty dishes off the coffee table and sweeping unopened mail back into the basket by the door that was supposed to hold it. “Wasn’t expecting visitors.”

“You called me,” Jonathan reminds her, with a twist of a wry smile. And then his eyes settle on the wall behind the couch, and the smile is replaced with confusion. “What is that?”

Nancy’s already on her way over to the kitchenette, dumping her armload of dishes into the little sink. She has to pause for a long moment, leaning over the sink, shutting her eyes and taking careful breaths. Neither her head or her stomach are thanking her for the sudden burst of movement.

“Nancy?”

Nancy holds up a hand behind her, one finger raised, for Jonathan to wait a moment. She breathes in, breathes out, and then straightens up, sweeping a handful of stray curls out of her face. God, she needs a shower. She shouldn’t have let Jonathan in here. Shouldn’t have let him see her like this.

She’s aware of movement behind her, and then the quiet clatter of opening and closing cabinet doors. “What are you doing?”

Jonathan looks back over his shoulder in the middle of opening the cabinet over the stove. “Making coffee. Where do you keep it?”

Nancy points. Jonathan opens the cabinet she’s pointing to, pulls out the tin of instant coffee, and then grabs the kettle off the stove. He looks up at her for the first time, obviously realising he’ll have to get by her to the sink to fill it, and falters. “You, uh, look like you need it.”

Nancy manages a rueful smile, and holds out a hand for the kettle. Jonathan passes it over, and she sticks it under the faucet. “You don’t have to mother me.”

Jonathan just shrugs, taking the full kettle back from her and turning his back to put it on the stove. “Seems like maybe somebody should. Mugs?”

He doesn’t stop at coffee, either. While Nancy’s pouring boiling water over instant coffee in a pair of mugs and trying not to gag at the almost overwhelming smell rising off them as she stirs, Jonathan finds a new loaf of bread somewhere – Nancy has no idea where, maybe her freezer? – and throws two slices into the toaster. It’s not exactly an enormous culinary effort, but it’s definitely all that she can handle right now, so Nancy’s willing to give him all the credit she would for a four-course dinner.

“Put something in you,” Jonathan says, handing Nancy the plate as she settles into her armchair, “and then explain what you’ve done to your wall.”

[perexcri]

to hell and back again now exists as a physical object!

(cat for size comparison )

hello hello!! i’m here for an official post to brag about @chubsonthemoon, a dear and lovely friend/hamster/beautiful fic writer and binder/Sandman zine contributor(!!!) who recently bound To Hell and Back Again as a present 💜

chubs is a dear irl friend and is (as i said in my final a/n for thaba) quite literally the only reason i ever started reading or writing fic in the first place. we’ve become good friends over the past couple of years, and i’ve loved being able to embrace these aspects of fandom that i never allowed myself to when i was younger (for many reasons, but that’s another story), and it’s really all thanks to them.

so without further ado, here are some pics of their lovely work!! they’re going to be making their own post about it later, so i’ll be reblogging that here and linking to it in this post as well, because they’ll have far more cool details to explain about the actual binding process than i could never articulate (they literally sent me a full video explaining so many things and i responded with something to the effect of “and the way you did that binding thing - i think you said it was German??” and “wOAh tHE edgEs”, so).

so, first of all: the covers!! @byierficrecs​ was very kind to make such a lovely graphic for this fic, and he was especially kind to let chubs use it for the actual cover!! i know most people in the fandom seem to already know about Angel and the lovely work he does, but if you haven’t checked out his work, please go give it some love~ (the original thaba graphic can be found here!!)

the spine, with chubs’ lovely little maker’s mark :D

(and if i rearranged my bookshelf just so i could put it between all of my R. F. Kuang books then that is my business alone)

and tHE EDGES?? i kind of blacked out after i opened the package today so i didn’t notice until about 10 minutes afterwards that they had continued the vines from the graphic onto the edges?? chubs i know i already screamed at you in private but now i get to do it on a public platform so please know i am still freaking out about this

art!! look at the lovely art!! thanks again to @starsarefire824​ and @itssstarry​ for your lovely work!! i love getting to stare at these pieces regardless, but now i get to hold them in an actual physical form and stare at them heheheh. posts to show them support and/or links to find their work can be found here (for @starsarefire824​) and here (for @itssstarry​)!!

and finally, here’s it opened to my favorite chapter!! just if anybody wants to see the typsetting :D

thanks again to everybody who contributed to this!! like, yeah, i wrote it, but @chubsonthemoon​ bound it, and @byierficrecs​ designed the cover, and @starsarefire824​ and @itssstarry​ contributed art? idk my brain’s being broken tonight over the fact that people can live in completely different places and all contribute to this thing that now takes up physical space on my bookshelf. i can’t really use my words right now, so here’s a poorly-made meme to express my thoughts instead:

and especially thanks to you, chubs!! again, you are a wonderful friend, and i’m glad we got to meet each other 💜 bonding over Chris Fleming videos and our shared connections (i’m thinking of cats and giraffes, ofc) has led to some wonderful memories. Louie says hello, btw!! she was sniffing your handiwork very intently heheheh :] 💜💜💜

anyways, i hope you guys enjoy the pics!! please send your love to all the wonderful people who made this possible~

(also!! i would encourage you guys to read chubs’ fanbinding commissions statement, just in case you have any questions, or reach out to them if you want to scream about their amazing work or have questions~)

chubs’ post can be found here!!

[queen-mihai]

I wanna talk about the concept of "the next big thing"

Because I keep getting frustrated that banks and businesses and smooth brain CEOs keep jumping on stupid trends without knowing what they're getting into. And then think they can just sell us on it being "the next big thing"

That's not how it works, idiots. WE decide what's the next big thing. Not you. You have no control here. You're a passenger on this ride. Forever. That's how it is, and that's how it's always gonna be.

So allow me, a consumer, to tell every business on the planet what to look for instead of buying into friggin TurboSlugs or something and making another trillion dollars worth of OUR effort vanish into thin air

Whenever your little money obsessed brain starts to notice a lot of rich people buying something, I want you to ask yourself a single question:

Would this help a 7 year old have a relationship with her grandma?

A 7 year old is hardly able to navigate the internet. She can't drive. She doesn't know how the world works and doesn't know enough yet to be able to make all her own decisions

Her grandma is maybe still in the workforce, or may be retired. Might be sitting at home or might be flying off all over the world. Could be more internet savvy than me, or could not even barely know how to get a search result on Google.

It doesn't matter. You need to put them together or help them be happy together. You need to do that better and easier than everything else that exists on the market.

THAT'S what will be the next big thing.

Skype was huge because a parent could sit their daughter in front of a screen for basically the first time ever and she could talk to her grandma on the other side of the planet face to face.

Cars were chosen over horses because you could get your daughter to your mother faster than with a horse; and didn't have to clean up after it.

The internet is huge because your daughter and your mother can follow each other's life stories and make each other laugh with memes. Your daughter can make grandma proud with what she has been learning and grandma can invest in your company's stock to be able to help pay for a family vacation.

Even something like Tumblr helps because it lets your daughter, as she gets older, have a wonderful place to explore being weird without freaking your mother out. And vice versa.

A stupid nft doesn't help daughter see grandma. It doesn't make their lives better when they're together. It's too hard for daughter to learn and grandma thinks it sounds like a scam.

Ai doesn't help them either. It takes attention away from daughter seeing grandma or makes grandma's search results come back wrong.

You want the next big thing? You're looking in the wrong places. And by the way, if you get the idea to gather a bunch of 7 year olds and grandmas in a room and interrogate them, trying to pick their brains for some damn idea? I am going to beg the universe to send a gorilla to drop from your ceiling and rip your arms off.

You just have to wait

You can't force it to happen. You can't know where or when or how it will be invented. Focus on making whatever product or service you make right now as best as you can. And when you see something that looks like it's going to make the relationship between daughter and grandma better? That's when you invest.

By the way, I know no one has told you this before. So when I inevitably hear you talking about "seeing your grandma" in some commercial or news spot or being parroted by some politician you have in your pocket? I'll know you've been listening to The Queen.

[luetta]

kinda wanna block every single person who i follow or follows me and start anew. i hate what my tumblr feed is now. its all fucking horny transposting and shitty online memes. it makes me feel so fucking stupid and vapid that is what i've curated my tumblr into being ... it just feels lame. if i was another person and i looked at luetta's blog, i wouldn't follow it. there's no analysis on media i like, any media that does appear is through a transgender lens. no aesthetics, just lewdness. and of course thinking about all of this, instead of just not giving a fuck about how my own personal blog is perceived, makes me feel like an idiot also. who gives a fuck? someone who still craves validation from others like a friendless little child, that's who. this website gives me dysphoria. and that's fucking cringe. i'm so lame. i'm a cookie cutter trans girl. blahaj and :3 and xdf htskligyterwuik girwa htuirog8yreabiraejk WHO FUCKING CARES WHAT SUBCULTURE YOU FIT INREGYT0IUTREHY 9E8TYU OJHTERYSU8YTERWMS8N 76E50W9TRW0 97Bwhat am i fucking even saying. i'm literally substanceless. i have no depth whatsoever. i've read no books. i've watched no movies. i've travelled to no places. i've experienced so little. i've literally done 1 single fucking thing in my life and that's figure out 6 years too late that i'm trans. woopdie doo. i did the bare minimum of introspection that comes with being a human. this is real life, i have to do more than that. i can't just sit in my room doing fucking NOTHING forever. i just need to suck it up and get a proper job and interact with people instead of just being content with doing nothing and fading away and then one day turning 40 and realising i've done nothing at all with my prime years. why is my brain so 9uhfeargu8io sdefrgu hypigfsd8dgsfht sgdftj puist ghreiouoy erthgt43qghrlyuv4qetwyulo4v53q2khglyiv354oiuy why do i just fucking keep on thinking about things it never fucking stops. there's never a single moment of respite from thinking about shit. i fucking hate my country, i just want weed to be legalised so i can do edibles every night and not have to fucking think constantly. but nooo i have to live in a fucking .... okay just going to stop typing because it's fucking cringe like every other opinion i have. you know what im going to type about instead? my ex-friend tom. you're a fucking piece of shit. why did you do this shit man? i don't fucking get it. literally what did i do for you to decide "i don't want to ever utter a SINGLE FUCKING WORD to you ever again". like what? we literally were connecting at such a deep friendship level. you pretty much came out to me when i came out to you. we hugged so tightly when we watched the succession finale together. and then you just fucking went AWOL. and yeah i get that you got addicted to benzos and went to rehab. but like ....... why does that mean you don't want to be my friend anymore? idk. i probs did something wrong because i'm a fuckup with fluctuating feelings and did something when i was in a 'fuck this guy' mood. urgh. idk. all my friends right now are cool but i still haven't found someone who shared so many similar interests as me. you're just a cunt to do this shit and make me have to get over you without any closure. i fucking hate myself. i just want to be someone else. throw all my belongings into a big fire and burn it up. go on a manic spree and fuck up my life. life just sorta sucks doesnt it? the fact that you have to work a fuckton and give away your body and time just so you can do things you want to do. i have dreams that ill never achieve probably. because i can't fucking do work. also my fucking boss is fucking dodging me about taking on more shifts than 1 every 3 weeks so i guess theyve fucking fired me. time to not be able to be on government support anymore !! because i need to work in order to keep it apparently !! good system. the purpose of a system is what it does. it wants you to suffer and die for not being a normal tall white man who works 10 hours a day in the auto shop. i hate everything i see. i'm unhappy.

[cosmossystem]

Today is our system discovery day!!!! and like every year I'm reflecting on it.

Every year gets easier in some regards and harder in others. this past year our system has only grown by one member (a record low), but our experiences have wildly shifted in ways we've never gone through before.

for instance, whereas we used to all be fairly distinct from each other, now it seems like the slightest thing can trigger a switch. i believe this was represented by the walls we initially put up in headspace. like crush explained, we used to have distinct rooms for every member or group, tons of areas to go for activities… but now we only have a handful of those. I live with [counts on fingers] 11 other members in a house, and that house is connected to two other members' house as well. the barriers between me and them are very thin.

we used to Know when we got new members. it used to be obvious. now it seems a lot more difficult? like a few weeks ago we thought we had a new guy, but couldn't communicate with him, and now he seems to be basically gone. i know i have a median subsystem but trying to communicate with them isn't easy and i don't even know how many members i have anymore.

but, in terms of improvements, our smaller size means we get to know each other a lot better. One of our other members has started being more active again after i thought she was gone. and i'm glad!!! i've missed her so much and i love having her around. a few of our alters who typically stay further towards the back have started chatting again, and i'm glad about that too. i hope to get to know them better.

our communication has… not necessarily improved or gotten worse, sort of just changed. whereas we used to have sort of an internal "movie" where everyone would move and talk, and it felt more cohesive, we now have like an internal discord server where everyone chats and instead of cohesive visuals we just share memes.

and these days we share feelings more than ever. more bouts of speech loss means more difficulty talking, so instead we've learned to communicate through feelings instead. if one of us is sad, everyone knows.

mostly, like every year, i feel for the alters & members who aren't around anymore. It never gets easier. we lost several members in this past year--too many to count, actually. It's no one's fault, but we've been going through a lot of stress and trauma so i imagine it has to do with that.

one of the people we lost was my ex. i held a grudge over him leaving me at first but now i'm just resentful that our last conversation ended so bitterly and i never got to say goodbye. we were friends. we were headmates. how do you hold a funeral for that?

no one ever really talks about headmate death, but it is honestly traumatizing. at times I wish we experienced dormancy like others do. i can count on one hand the amount of times we've had a dormant member come back (including me) and most of the time it's debatable if they're even the same person. I'm not sure I'M even the same me. we all tend to share collective memories, and individual memories are not easy to trigger. So it's not reliable, to say the least, and that likely means i will never see any of them again.

i know i should be more upset-- and, i am, don't get me wrong. i miss all of them. But for us, we've learned to cope by having the knowledge that even though they're "gone", they aren't really gone. they just get absorbed back into our brain-network and someday they'll return, in the form of thoughts or memories or feelings. their memories aren't gone. their experiences aren't gone. they just become one with all of us again, kinda like a plant. (That mentality doesn't make it any better, mind you. just a little less depressing.)

this next year is going to be possibly the biggest one ever. new places, new people, new problems, everything. it might suck. in fact, it probably will. I don't know how it will go but i know we'll still be around, and all I can do is hope that we cope fine.

and also while i'm here writing this post i wanna thank the plural community. this is our 8th year post-discovery, and we returned this year to the community after six years away from it, and while it has some caveats i'm glad i got to see and meet many cool people to remind me that we aren't alone in all this. it's been fascinating to see how the community has grown in that time!

Anyway. long post over. happy 8th to us :] i'm gonna go have some cake.

-cass 💙

[creativebrainrot]

life has massively improved, alas. the mental health do be unstabling. or whatever. Knee Jerk Meme Response-

Everything is much better and we have an actual leg to stand on this month.

I am because of this very fucking tired. we have a place we stay for a year which is amazing. its walkable. its nice. im so fucking tired from the last 4-5 months of moving and I keep having to remind myseld not to implode at every possible little mistep; you have only been free of a traumatic situation for 4-5 months after 22 YEARS not every fuck up is world-shattering anymore.

and thats nice, but the process of re-training my brain is so. fucking. GOD.

soon i'll have room to start my transition and build more self esteem & confidence, and start being a, "real adult." And adressing my likely cptsd. however i can without therapy since, America. thats expensive. and unfortunately very 'spoon-expensive' as a concept for me. am I glad to be right here? right now? yes.

do I feel good or feel the want to live? not right now and not yet.

i dont know if i'll ever have that last thing but eh. i'll keep living out of spite until i can live out of love or something.

Life is, really taxing when youre mentally disabled and never planned to be here this long + never expected things to get better.

so now youre standing in a field of flowers instead of treading water in the middle of the ocean and you go a little insane, because you dont HAVE to move constantly anymore and you CAN lay down and nap but your mind wont let you because really, its only a matter of time until everything shatters again. right?

[rphelperblog]

Random Page YA Book Quote Rp Meme

Part one-I opened one of my 42 large moving boxes of books to a random page and wrote down the quote for Rp Meme- feel free to edit quotes or change pronoun or person

“knock knock! I just happened to have my ear pressed to this door. I might have overheard some things, and I have a suggestion!” 

“Libraries were full of ideas—perhaps the most dangerous and powerful of all weapons.”

“She was a pistol wrapped up in silk. She was a blade disguised as a girl.” 

“But how will we learn from our mistakes if we don't make any?

“Hope is the most dangerous thing you can give someone.”

“You don't go into battle because you're sure of victory. You go into battle because it's the right thing to do.”

“Silent acquiescence in the face of tyranny is no better than outright agreement.” 

“Truth be told, I liked that blurriness. That line where reality and fiction jutted up against each other.” 

“There’s not much to be afraid of when you’ve already lost everything that matters.”

“Let's have a toast. To the incompetence of our enemies.” 

“Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear.” 

“I want everyone to meet you. You're my favorite person of all time.” 

“Sometimes things that appear very different on the surface are actually exactly the same at their core.”

“We find things, just as we lose things. If you’ve lost your honor, you’ll find it again.” 

“Hope is the most dangerous thing you can give someone.”

“Love is a drop in the ocean of what I feel for her. Love is a single sun in a heaven full of stars.” 

“I'll be your family now,"

“Girls hunger. And we’re taught, from the moment our brains can take it, that there isn’t enough food for us all.” 

“I am me because I choose to be me. I am what I want. Some people say you have to find yourself. Not I. I believe we create ourselves to be what we want.” 

“They trained me for this. It's their own fault. They helped make their own doom.” 

“It’s weird how we have to get a little older to realize that people are just people. It should be obvious, but it’s not.” 

“The right thing and the easy thing are never the same.” 

Because of me. Because I let fear make decisions for me. Because I’ve chosen to let the world push me around instead of pushing my way through the world.” 

“I am often told I defy expectations.” 

“All the time in the world is worth nothing if I don't get to spend it with you.” 

“...Because the voices in your head that say otherwise are just fear talking. Never listen to fear.” 

“Do not accept an evil you can change.” 

“How can a man be so handsome and annoying at the same time” 

“I don't know why it's so hard for people to admit that sometimes they're just assholes who screw up because they don't expect to get caught.” 

“Apparently she's got revenge on her mind, and it's really annoying when people try to talk at you while you're feeling murderish.” 

“Reasons we should get married:Because I love you.We both look good in black boots.I spent some time without you, and I didn’t like it.You make me happy.I make you laugh.I like the way you fight.You see through my masks.I really love you.You love me, too. “

“Do not cry for me, I am already dead."

“If by a moment, you mean me not wanting to strangle you for the first time since we met, then I guess we are.”

“Why do we desire, above all other things, that which has the greatest power to destroy us?” 

“There are so many worse things than death. Not to be loved or not to be able to love: that is worse.” 

" I couldn't find you. And I will never forgive myself for that. Ever.” 

“Yeah, but broken isn't the same as unfixable.” 

“I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway.” 

“I mean, most people want to escape. Get out of their heads. Out of their lives. Stories are the easiest way to do that.” 

“Are you like the girls in the book too? Because I think I am.” 

“Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you'll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart.” 

“The people you love weren’t algebra: to be calculated, subtracted, or held at arm’s length across a decimal point.”

“We want to prove things, in life, more than we want to disprove them. We want to believe.” 

“Strange how applause was just noise, when you were all alone.