So, the very first social media site I was ever on, back when I was in middle school, was a forum run by Cricket magazine called the Chatterbox. The CB was, for me and for many others, the first place where we were able to share our writing and art with a supportive community, and it made me into the writer that I am today. It was also the safest, best-moderated Internet space I have ever been part of. It was the kind of introduction to the Internet that every kid deserves to have.
The CB is shutting down on Monday. They say it is because "Cricket is focusing on other ways to create great experiences for kids and families", but I can read between the lines -- Cricket Media is shutting it down because the company is in dire straits, and they are prioritizing projects that they think will make them money at the expense of the actual children who are part of this community.
I don't know where these kids are going to go now. It is devastating to watch kids' spaces on the Internet be slowly stripped away, and even more devastating to watch this pattern befall a place that was such a significant part of my childhood.
This is a long shot, but I'm posting this here mostly in the hopes of reaching any other former CBers who are on this website now. I'm going to tag everyone I've found through searching for previous mentions of the CB - sorry for the pings. I don't know how many of you have heard already through various circles but I want to reach as many people as possible while we still have a chance to archive things. I think a lot of people have heard already, from what I'm seeing in older threads, but I'm sure some people haven't. If there is already a secret CB alumni Tumblr community sorry to duplicate any potential existing efforts 🫡
I'm not going to share my CB username publicly because the Internet safety the admins drilled into us does exist for a reason but hmu if you are also a former CBer and I'm happy to share.
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The confetti angel, taken from an admin's post providing the image upon request from a Word document in which they had saved it. Original image is a photograph of a traditional drawing.
nooo clue how to use tumblr yet but wanted to make a quick little post about the cricket chatterbox (if you don't know what that is, this post isn't for you). seems like there's a pretty solid number of former "CBers."
well, I was active between 2021 and 2024, and I can say the chatterbox is still going pretty strong. there's a new website now, with a different format, and Kyngdom is pretty dead, but ski lodges are still a thing! (i gotta finish mine...) The community helped me discover my queerness, but unfortunately it seems to lean a little more conservative now, although it is still relatively accepting.
if you're from the chatterbox, please do say hi! I miss that place like crazy, but the simple truth is I'm not a sixth grader anymore. I do still use my AEs as OCs though :,]
Through the screen there once was a mystical kyndom, where anyone could be anything. Where everyone had a purpose. Born from chaos and pain, a small child found refuge in a shapeshifting powerful god. The god of death, the scapegoat, the one punished, scorned and banished for things outside of their control. For nothing they did could ever change them into who they would never be.
The one who just craved to be seen as good, despite always being labeled as everything but. Who’s anger and pain, guilt and shame for just existing transformed and morphed into a being all in its own. One meant to protect and comfort the god of darkness, but whose anger and shame formed sharpened claws and snapping jaws. Built of survival, over time this being morphed to hurt the one it was meant to protect by sinking its fangs into anyone who got too close.
Once shunned, eventually the power of the god of darkness gained attention from those around them. They lived on a pedestal, either worshipped or scorned, no longer invisible. They were important, loved or hated, seen by the world. But their shadow couldn’t stay hidden forever. Soon the creature of darkness turned all they loved against them. Hurting those they held dear, lashing out in the name of protection, until there was nothing left.
And the god fell.
Blamed for the darkness’ sharp teeth and bloody claws, their reputation preceded them. They turned on the darkness, and swore to destroy them for the pain they caused. But everything they did just made the darkness stronger. For how could you kill a part of yourself? And soon the blind rage caused the powerful god of destruction to fall into a deep slumber, paralyzed by their own shadow.
But the story didn’t end there. What didn’t find words, find paper, continued to write itself outside of the world in the screen.
With time, the god of darkness was able to face their shadow. It had grown so powerful, radiating with pure evil. Or, at least that’s what the god chose to see it as. But after being forced to sit alone with the darkness, they realized what they saw as corruption, mind control, and the pure goal of destruction was anything but. The more they faced the shadow, the more they realized the tendrils of evil were made of shame. Of deep rooted guilt, of anger towards all those who failed them, of those who left them to rot in the darkness when they needed them most. Of pain, of sadness, of deep rooted loneliness instilled in them by the creator god who never truly loved them.
They weren’t evil. The darkness was trying to protect them, to find connections in the only way they knew how to. They were never taught how to care for others in a way that didn’t leave deep claw marks. They didn’t know how to handle adoration without crumbling under the pressure. And maybe the world was never taught how to handle the darkness with care, maybe they were even taught to demonize it, to blame the god whenever their shadow shone, as gods are expected to be flawless. What does it mean for everyone else if the gods have such darkness within them? And maybe this shame made the darkness grow ever larger, so whenever it could no longer be contained it became so loud that there was nothing to counteract it, no one who wanted to touch it. But this darkness was only as evil as the small little dragon who was told they were inherently bad, who was isolated, abandoned, and made to feel as if their existence was a curse to everyone around them. Whose sense of self split because of profound pain, whose only comfort used to be the silence of the dark.
And maybe instead of trying so desperately to destroy it, all that needed to be done was to give the darkness a hug.
~
Wow so, this is it. The true end of a chapter. I can’t lie, I have mixed feelings about the chatterbox closing. On one hand, it was where I was able to escape to as a kid, how I was able to process everything happening to me, and probably the reason I was able to make it to adulthood. On the other hand, looking back through old threads, seeing old names, brought up a lot of memories and feelings I would rather forget and leave behind forever.
Maybe this is a good thing, and it has some profound meaning to the current path I walk. The door to my childhood is closing, the pain and suffering and bloody claws. The true start of a new era, where I’m no longer obsessed with proving that I’m good, that I can be a successful member and even a strong leader of a community without breaking. That my shadow can’t control me anymore, that no one will be able to see it again. But the truth is, healing isn’t linear, and the parts of me formed out of necessity won’t go away overnight, nor should they be hidden and something to be ashamed of. I developed long, sharp claws and crushing jaws to keep myself safe, and that’s ok. I no longer hate myself for it. There are people who understand that, understand me, and are willing to help me heal instead of shame me for it, or add to the trauma.
It’s kindve funny, and honestly tells a lot about my childhood and even the connections I had from the cb, that when they tried to revamp kyndom a few years ago they wanted to get rid of my storyline because it was ‘too dark’. The self-insert character and storyline I created to process what I went and was still going through as a child was too dark for the other kids. It never should’ve been our job to save each other. Kids saving kids, we didn’t know how to do it right, how to not hurt ourselves and each other in the process. Obviously it ended badly, it wasn’t our job to know better. How could we? The adults failed us, but now we’re the adults and I won’t let anyone suffer like I did. Like we did. It’s poetic, in a sense.
A true new beginning. A new life. A new purpose. A success story this time.
Anyways, I did use an old old trend with this one, had it in my back pocket and thought now was as good of a time as ever to use it, even if it was like 3 years late. My longest ever oc, the one who will probably carry the most significance of any character I’ll ever create. I’ve revamped their design and parts of their story for fun over the years, usually accompanied by life altering traumatic events to help me process. The most recent design I created for a class, months after my health crashed and I became disabled, while I was in and out of emergency hospitalizations. Their design is more rooted in different mythology and legends around the world, including Xolotl, an Aztec canine god of death, sickness and deformities. The new design of my god of death and destruction includes scars and a body that cannot stay together because of the hatred the creator god had when they were being formed. In human terms, they have a connective tissue disorder plus all the fun stuff that comes with it. They’re also immortal, so they are in constant debilitating pain because of a body that isn’t meant to sustain life but is forced to anyways- something I often feel like is happening to me. And because their mother was neglectful, their pain was never validated and they were never shown or given ways to make existing easier. Instead they were just expected to endure, like I was. This new design still has the core of the original one, but with the new knowledge and understanding of how my own past and lifelong chronic illness has shaped me.
It was too painful for me, for many many reasons, to post anything on the cb one last time, so maybe this is my closure, in a way. I don’t really expect anyone from the cb to actually read this, I’m not even sure if I actually want anyone to, this is more so for me and to process my own feelings around the cb officially ending and to face the painful memories, people and emotions I associate with it, to acknowledge how that shaped my present and probably my future. To be able to process it, and let the lessons from it shape who I wish to be. To help me along in my healing journey, to keep my new relationships healthy and strong. To hold it tightly for just a moment longer, then let it go free.
It’s time for me to stop running, and face the darkness.
A bonus, I saw a newer thread where people assigned my oc a theme song, and I would like to add that I have found the perfect one:
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
this is such a long shot, but I thought it would be worth mentioning. the cricket chatterbox gives off tumblr vibes, so there's a possibility that some people from there might end up here. if for some miraculous reason this describes you, please do reblog this or comment or dm me or whatever. i wanna find you lizards. --me here, wolfy/zeta lupi there.
if this post makes absolutely no sense to you, you are not the (extremely limited) target audience.
