the truth matters


Letting go of hurt doesn’t work the way holding onto it does.
Hurt becomes a stubborn part of you.
Hurt becomes your best friend, because it has stuck around when everything else has left.
Hurt has become you.
And you’ve heard all about the letting go. And you’ve been trying to do so for so, so long.
The truth of the matter is, romanticizing your pain has made leaving it behind
a battle you haven’t won. All you can do well is hold on.

There is no metaphysical garden you can go to bury the love you have
for all the people who couldn’t love you back. No matter how desperately you dig. No matter how deep the roots have grown.
There is no flood that will come and wash away all the parts of you that are more spice than sugar, more sharp edges than anything soft. I know you want to drown the hurt. I know you want to cleanse the heart.
No fire will come burning down all the walls you’ve built around yourself, a brick added each time you thought you had healed just to find that with each new beginning, the wounds are open wide. The wounds burn and burn and burn.
As much as you wish it were this easy. As much as you would give for a simple way out,
There is no garden. No flood, no fire. There is only the daily (at times hourly) choice to be actively healing and growing and moving on.

This is where the fight begins-
You have to dig yourself out of this, one small victory at a time.
It’s not easy and it is not quick,
But darling, listen, it is worth it.
It is worth all your grit.
#poetry #beh #thehardseason #writersofig #skinnydippersprings

With the recent release of Yooka-Laylee and the nonsensical, upset comments following it, I just had to doodle this. People are like spoiled children; they cry and beg for a game they really want, then when they finally get it they hate on it like there’s no tomorrow. The most disgusting part is they actually have the nerve to call the development teams scam artists as if they never delivered the promised product to begin with. Then they wonder why developers rarely ever go back and resurrect old IPs. The truth of the matter is people hate these games because 1] they either don’t remember how to play the games that they claim to be such big fans of to begin with, or 2] they’ve raised so much hype for the games that their expectations have been raised to an immense grandiose scale, killing any chance of satisfaction. Not to mention that there’s nothing people love more than drama, so once the hate is received , you can bet there’ll be hundreds more there to fan the flames and exaggerate things like a big fucked up game of Telephone. Will future nostalgia-based releases like “Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night”, “Sonic Mania”, or even “Crash Bandicoot N-Sane Trilogy” be doomed to the same fate?


There are times I really don’t feel like I say, “Thank you,” enough. This is one of those times.

I don’t usually pay much attention to the numbers for anything (follows, likes, reblogs, etc.) because I don’t want to create expectations for myself. They only lead to disappointments. So, in seeing this number, I became a bit overwhelmed and starting check others, as well as comments.

The truth of the matter is, I have never gotten hate for my writing. All of the comments I’ve ever received about my work have been love-filled or constructive in a positive way. Although the ratio of likes-to-reblogs is ridiculously high (as in 20+ likes per 1 reblog), I don’t have a problem with my work getting around. That probably has something to do with the fact that this blog has almost 400 followers now. I know what 300 people in a room looks like - I was in a 300 student lecture hall in college that was always filled during film class - so to envision that plus 100 more people is insanity to me.

I see some writers and artists on here chase these numbers. This is the first time I realize that I don’t have to. I can just produce work and someone will be here to read it, to give feedback, to give support, and that means the world to me.

I can’t thank you all enough. <3

The Problem with Dany

If I had to pick a character who was the most difficult to talk about in this series, it would probably be Daenerys Targaryen.  The intersection of every single conflict and perspective–in world and modern–about her is one that is almost impossible to address without sidelining one element of it.

That her arc relies intensely white saviorism; depictions of the Dothraki are laden with racist tropes; her experience in Slaver’s Bay harkens to (but does not perfectly mirror) white conquest in the 19th century.  This pairs uncomfortably with the fact that she is 13-16 years old (I’m focusing predominantly on book!Daenerys in this–if you are here for show!Daenerys proceed with that in mind), a child sold into sex slavery, a rape victim, and someone who believes firmly and acts upon the belief that any society that relies upon slavery is not society.  As a woman in Martin’s historically inaccurate misogynistic world, she confronts challenges that are designed by the creator of the series to confront her womanhood; as a Targaryen/Valyrian/Westerosi far from her home and without the resources of that home, she is left with little choice but to look forward.


Before even touching on the content of A Song of Ice and Fire, a point that causes trouble, right out of the gate, is where do “problems” with Daenerys arise?  When, for example, does responsibility lie with a character, and when with the architect of her story?  Add into that–when does the responsibility lie with neither character, nor creator, but with instead the fans who are discussing the media in question?

All this is not to absolve Daenerys of whatever sins exist within her storyline. There are choices that the character makes that are reprehensible and for which the ultimate responsibility does lie with her; however it is also to say that many of the things that Daenerys is loathed for are decisions that lie instead at Martin’s feet.

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“White people are not really concerned about violence in all cases but only when they are the victims. As long as blacks are beaten and shot, they are strangely silent, as if they are unaware of the inhumanity committed against the black community. Why didn’t we hear from the so-called Christians when black people were violently enslaved, violently lynched, and violently ghettoized in the name of freedom and democracy?”

Protégé [Part 6] (M)

Originally posted by jjks

[Part 1] - [Part 2] - [Part 3] - [Part 4] - Part 5]

Thirty-four hours.

It had been thirty-four hours since you’d yelled at Jungkook and he had left your office. It had been thirty-four hours since you’d collected yourself after shattering your phone set into pieces and ran out of your office looking for him. Jaebum told you with a dejected frown that Jungkook had left. Where to? His guess was just as good as yours, if not worse.

You ran out to your car, the chill of the night air biting against your bare arms and cheeks, but you’d be lying if you said you felt it. You went at a crawl through the streets, stomping down on the brakes and squinting to make out the face of each and every pedestrian you past who resembled Jungkook in any way. You had even called out to a few of them, earning you nothing more than odd stares or blatant ignorance. You didn’t believe he could have gotten very far, but after two hours of driving, there was no sign of him.

The hospital’s visiting hours were long over, which cut that out as an option. And it took a persuasive conversation and a few slow swipes of your tongue across your painted lips to convince the security guard of Jungkook’s apartment building to tell you that no one had come in or out since six that night. He’d left your building much later than that.

You returned to the building, your jaw aching from hours of clenching your teeth and your eyes downcast, staring at nothing in particular. Jaebum greeted you, and before he could get the chance to ask you what had happened, you held your hand up to him. You were tired of questions, you were tired of explaining things. But, mostly, you just didn’t want to relive the truth of the matter–this was entirely your fault.

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