sigh. my toxic trait is when i feel like my work isn't getting enough feedback, i lose motivation to continue. so, when i say “that's what keeps me going”, i mean it literally.

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sigh. my toxic trait is when i feel like my work isn't getting enough feedback, i lose motivation to continue. so, when i say “that's what keeps me going”, i mean it literally.

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A really fun report on the Kinks’ Preservation tour by Kris DiLorenzo, who seemed to be a pioneer among women rock journalists in the 70s. I can see why because this review is a total trip and I love her for writing it, thank you Kris . . .
Don't get me started on how Jack's actions are sometimes overly vilified because some don't register his physical versus mental or emotional age.
AHHHH he is a CHILD I don’t care how old he looks or how old Alex Calvert is. Jack is just barely three years old where we are in season 15. I’m pretty sure he was still technically qualified as a newborn when he self harmed for the first time. Just because he’s ultra powerful does NOT mean he doesn’t still need guidance and love and support. What baby can be expected to be perfect and perfectly in control all the time? We can’t expect that of adults and we don’t hold adult characters to that kind of standard, so why do people immediately get on Jack’s case for mistakes? All he wants to do is help people. Half the adults on the planet aren’t that selfless. And if Jack sometimes lashes out or makes a mistake, we need to afford him the benefit of the doubt. He’s trying so hard under pressure that would make people ten times his age break.
Anyway if someone ever says Jack should know better or doesn’t deserve something because he messed up or is ungrateful, kindly remind them that this is an actual baby. Other children his age are barely in preschool and learning to hold pencils, not moving them with their minds. Other children his age are watching cartoons and refusing vegetables, not getting orders from Death herself. Other children his age are barely speaking their first language, not reading dangerous Enochian spells immediately after being resurrected.
So yes, Jack has flaws. He’s THREE. Just like any child he craves validation from his parents. Just like any child he sometimes needs to be selfish. And just like all children, he shouldn’t be expected to be grateful for parental love. And Jack is, by the way, despite the fact that he shouldn’t have to be.
Jack’s powers don’t mean he isn’t still a baby. He’s still a toddler. Though he has teenage moments, he’s nowhere near adulthood. Please please PLEASE remember that, because all he should be worrying about right now is whether or not dads will let him have nougat before bed. Not how he’s gonna kill himself to take out God.
BOO PLS LET THIS BE ON ONE OF MY FOLLOWERS DASHBOARD I BEG OF YOU TUMBLR
HIIII IF YOU SEE THIS, IM LITERALLY HAVING AWRITERS BLOCK RN SO IF YOU WOULDNT MIND, MAYBE YOU COULD SEND IN SOME SUGGESTIONS?
ITS NOT REALLY REQUESTS, BUT JUST WANT AN IDEA TO SPARK MY WRITING BACK
THANK YOU <3333
I want you to know that ever since I beguiled @thefearofcod into reading Gilded Silks he's been absolutely deranged in my DMs about it. Today's rant was about how at least some of Russo's trashy romances have got to be early 2000s style deeply unrealistic ω/ω smut, for our general amusement. And then as if summoned, a new chapter appeared!
😄 the timing was deeply amusing to me personally
(also holy shit this chapter is so *gooey* even with Finno being a [giant mood] bitch, I loved it so much)
Aaaaaaaaaaa that's so wonderful to hear! I'm so glad that both of you have been enjoying it!!!
ABSOLUTELY! That is absolutely at least one of the sort of things he would read! in general, I must imagine that when one is a hopeless romantic and also a horny (and before Findekano, single) young adult in this sort of biological system, he would not exactly be a pretentious consumer of erotica. Rather the opposite. Especially given his personal preferences.
I'm so glad you loved the recent chapter (and that the timing was so amusing!). There are times it very much feels like this has been a slow burn sort of fic, despite the fact that they got basically married in chapter 1, and it feels like I'm finally getting to write so much of the juicy (smutty)payoff, the hurt/comfort that leans hard in the direction of *comfort*, and the functional, extremely positive relationship that it has been inevitable that Findarato is going to get, however long (200k+ words) it has taken to get here. Gooey moments shall abound, hopefully, so I'm glad to hear that worked in this chapter, at least!

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TW: ed, mental health problems, just a big rant
sometimes i wonder what would have happened to me if not for figure skating, and in certain aspects i am grateful for the sport and mourn my loss of it but in certain aspects i wish i had never stepped foot onto the ice. ive never been one to enjoy being bad at something, and all i wanted was to be a happy skater which meant being a good one so i did whatever it took. i trained 5-6x a week, non-stop, without fail. at least 3 hours on ice and at least 1.5 off ice. i did everything that was asked of me by my coach— i exercised, i practised, i ate less, lost weight. all in the hopes of being deemed good for the amount of time that i had been skating for. i got the results, they came quickly, and i was happy, but all that happiness was always short lived. why? because it was at this stage that i had developed problems with my body image, weight, eating and bad mental health. i remember crying after my skating sessions if it didnt go well, and most of the time it felt like it did not because of my perfectionism. slowly, i was eating less and less, burning myself out, pushing myself to my very limit. at the time i saw nothing wrong with it because the results were showing, but now i can say that the long term impact of it still lingers on till this day. i wanted to go to nationals and it was a realistic goal, i was enroute to achieving axels and doubles. i became my coach's favourite student, i dare say. i did everything i could to be a good skater which eventually meant, or at least i thought it would be, a happy skater. i cant describe the joy of getting enough rotation for your axel for the first time and being told you can work on it on ice. looking back, that was the only time i had felt truly happy. but then the implications of everything became clear. every meal felt like a punishment, i would rely on smoothies and water to keep me going alongside a banana, at one point i was only able to take ensure because i simply couldnt bring myself to eat or chew. it was bad, to say the least. now i can say it wasnt worth it, but at the time it really felt like i was simply doing what all good athletes do. i still suffer from it all till this day, and no matter how much i want to believe that i have gotten better, i know it is nohing but a mere lie. i have not gotten better, not at all, it has only developed in other ways. i hate that i cared so much about the sport, but at the same time i regret quitting. figure skating was my first love and nothing has come close.
i know not to blame the sport because figure skating is beautiful and has given me so much, but i can’t help but feel angry at myself for stepping onto the ice, for ever picking up the sport. but at the same time, it truly feels as though i have lost the love of my life.
i am sorry if you see yourself in my words and sentences and in ways i can’t help but indulge in self-pity, no matter how lame it is because i have brought all this upon myself.
having covid is kicking me in the ass rn