Cannot Fucking Believe I Finally Uploaded The End Of OP&J And It Killed Ao3. My Power Was Simply Too

hey so i have a new fic coming (gimmie a month) but in the meantime heres images of my childhood bedroom

i took some of them when i was trying to be happy there and i took some of them when we were trying to run away. i think about the second to last picture often. the sign above it said things worth believing in. i had been trying to fill it for months. i never got the chance to finish it.

every time i thought of something, if i stopped to think about it through goggles that acknowledged how vast and wicked the world could be, in that way you are overwhelmed by evil when you’re little, it never seemed worthy of putting faith in. i only ever managed to add to it when i was blind with happiness, and that came rather irregularly. i always felt guilty about it later; how dare you find bliss in pretty boys and sweets and silly indulgent giggles. i still feel that way sometimes.

i try and find bliss in it anyway now. i think to the voice in my head, “you’re just a child. there’s no sin in happiness. there’s no sin in happiness. tonight you will nick yourself while cooking. tomorrow you will spill a drink. those aren’t sins, either. they’re just reasons to find your bliss now.”

and then the voice says back, “you’re being very silly.” and i think “i can hear you trying not to laugh. it’s beautiful. you’re so beautiful. happiness isn’t a sin.”

the sign was hidden in the corner, with my hope chest and my closet. it was six pages of white construction paper. i never filled up more than 1/8th of a single sheet. i looked at it every night. the first few days, when it was empty, i’d stare at it till i fell asleep kneeling on the floor. my knees would wake me up with stabs of pain, and it felt like penance for being alive. i can’t ever convey how wonderful first putting a marker to that paper felt; the turquoise ink spreading fat, welcome.

i went to sleep in my own bed that night and i woke up the next morning and wondered if the world was really as bad as it felt; and i decided it couldn’t be all that bad. i forgot the decision quickly. for the seventeen minutes i held it, i felt peace.

i’m laying prone on the dining hall floor about this post. the reblog is not enough. i need this on billboards.

it all comes back to fated. to be perfectly honest

one day i'll actually start posting my fic but today is probably not that day

anyways on a bit of a roll art-wise so have this dumb doodle

i just saw your rb tags on the schizospectrum post and I’m sending my thoughts as an ask because i didn’t want to clog that persons reblog </3

but both the vengolor brothers have storylines that are SOOOO neurodivergent coded, what originally drew me into fated was the fact that br’aad is blatantly autistic and I could relate so much to the way he interacted with the party and was received by them

consider the vengolors neuros DIVERGED !!!!

braad vengolor is so autistic he gets grade-school bullied about being autistic for the first four episodes

SHES BACK

there is such an inherent rage in being queer. not by choice but because other people’s rage is inflicted upon you. and it’s so hard. and i’m so tired. i work twice as hard to achieve half as much decency, which should not be something i can achieve it should be given freely, and no stupid sticker will ever truly encapsulate the immense rage in me, the anger. if i play by the rules and lay down and take it, i betray myself and my community. if i stand against it, i am demonized and harassed and painted as though that is the natural state of a queer person, instead of the truth: i am a response. i am a response to every injustice that has ever been delivered to me. the whole thing is going to make me scream.

FATED SPOILERS:

random hot take: i think bra’axi, as much as we all love it, would not have made a good match until post canon. we can see bra’ad slowly getting more in touch with the others and himself, getting character arcs away from ob’nock’shai, joining the storyteller, becoming more comfortable as himself, developing morals and loyalty and generally evolving as a character. taxi, conversely, never gets that arc for himself.

(probably because his character development is tied to oriana and jared refuses to give female characters depth. cough misogyny cough.)

so i think we need to see the fated post-ungaroe, with new paths and levels and ideas and wants and development, and then bra’axi could work because it’s two people in a new world looking to better themselves and Be Gay Together

babe are you okay you looked up “in front of my mother and sisters i pretend love is cheap and vulgar” again

it hurts so much, to be in touch–so i'd rather not