#<- just my irrational fears ofc but even if its like this like then what? world doesnt end on this

[quintessenceofdust88]

It was really hard to choose so I'm asking for both of my favourites 🙏 please

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊 (this one i really want to see a full fic cause it's so intriguing)

🍼🍼🍼🍼

Hi my love! Ofc you can have bothhh, no need to choose in this house hehe!

Let's start with 20-ish sentences of Tsunami goodness, continuing from here (all previous snippets here). I hope you like it! ♥

--

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

It’s indeed a little girl, she can’t be older than six; her light yellow summer dress is wet and covered in grime and leaves, and so is her hair which is styled in two well done pigtails; her arms are wrapped around a bright unicorn plushie. She’s looking down at him, her deep blue eyes filled with fear, a few tears running down her red cheeks. It breaks Buck’s heart. 

“Hey!” Buck says; he doesn’t see any injuries, but he won’t move her until he’s sure. “I’m gonna help you, ok? Are you hurt?”

“N-no…” She tells him with a sniffle. “But Uncle Sal is, and the water took him, and I didn’t see him anymore! And…. And I wanted to go after him, but Daddy always says I should wait for rescue if bad things happen!...”

She’s starting to cry again, and Buck  thanks the universe for whoever is the sensible parent of this child, because even if she isn’t hurt now, she would be if she had tried to get down on her own. 

“Okay, kiddo, first of all let’s get you down here safely. Then you can tell me about your uncle Sal, alright? What’s your name?” He asks her. 

“Genevieve Kinard” She recites dutifully. “But you can call me Vivie”

Buck has the faintest impression there's something familiar about that name, but he shakes it off, not having time to think about it right now. He nods at her with what he hopes is a kind smile even though exhaustion is starting to creep its way into him once again. He’s losing precious time in his search for Chris, but he can’t just abandon a little child; he knows that, if someone found Chris in the middle of all of this, he’d want them to keep him safe.

“Okay, Vivie. I'm Evan, but you can call me Buck” He tells her, and then raises his arms toward her. “Alright, Vivie, you’re gonna have to be super brave, because I'm gonna ask you to jump, and then I'll catch you. Do you think you can do that?”

It wouldn't be unreasonable for her to be scared; the situation is stressful, and the top of a pick-up must feel quite high for a little girl. But she nods without hesitation, scooching closer to the edge of the pick-up and looking down at him. 

“Kinda like playing toss?” She asks, and Buck can only assume that’s a game someone plays with her, and he hopes to God it’s similar to what he’s planning to do.

(Blobs under the cut)

And here are 16-ish sentences of Little Blobs, ch. 5, for you, continuation from here;

-🍼

“Hey, sweetie, are you ready?” Tommy asks, and Buck glares at him with the force of a thousand suns for daring to ask the question so inconsiderately. 

“Oh, that’s so easy for you to say, you have clothes that fit you!” Buck exclaims, crossing his arms, he realizes he’s being irrational, but he doesn’t care. 

Tommy, to his credit, manages not to laugh, though he still looks slightly amused by Buck’s outburst. He also doesn’t look offended, which tells Buck just how good of a husband he has.

He’s still upset and pouty when Tommy approaches him, placing a small kiss to the side of his head, and then kneeling down and pressing another one to his swollen bump, a small smile on his face.

“Hey, blobs, you’re getting too big for Daddy’s clothes in there? You’re growing so fast!” He tells them, his voice enthusiastic, but Buck notices his gaze is slightly saddened, and bites his lips, deciding now is not the moment to address it.

He’s been noticing a few moments where Tommy gets that sad, far away look in his eyes, ever since they came back from Indiana. Buck can only imagine how bad it must have felt for Tommy, seeing his father like that, and he wonders if that’s what’s still rattling him. He can’t relate that much; his relationship with his own father, while certainly not perfect, was never this antagonistic. Maybe Tommy just needs some time to brush it off.  Thinking about his father reminds Buck of the fact he still hasn’t told his parents about the babies, and he has to do it before it’s awkward. It’s not that he hasn’t meant to, but they haven’t had a video call in a long time, and they still weren’t telling people back then. He’s been meaning to schedule a new one for weeks, but things have been hectic. Maybe he’ll text them tomorrow and get it over with.

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

k contacted the casino n also my graph des professor so the level of desperation is high af

[aquaquadrant]

I was wondering if you had an estimated date of when you will post the next HTP chapter?

Like, leaving us on such a cliffhanger must be a crime! It cant be legal!

Anyways, while I wait for it, Ive decided to copy paste every chapter into a doc and mark it up color code style for all my over analyzing needs. It took me an hour but it was worth it.

Have a good week and take care :)

(This is meant to be genuine, not mean or passive aggressive, just so you know. While I indeed am anxiously awaiting Chapter 10 by highlighting the chapters on a doc like that one photo of a bible page that’s highlighted with different colors. This isn’t meant to be mean or pressuring, take your time and take care of yourself)

⬆️(Ah poo, Im an over thinker

hey there, no worries y’all- i love seeing my reader’s enthusiasm and it’s reassuring to see continued interest in the series. i’d been hoping to have BOTH of the final ‘from eden’ chapters done before summer. but i have to admit, progress on the next chapter hasn’t been as forthcoming as i’d expected, for a couple reasons.

the first is health-related. not to be too TMI, but i recently got diagnosed with crohn’s disease. my symptoms started ages ago but have really ramped up in the last couple months, and the diagnosis was a lengthy and involved process (started the hunt back in november, presumptively diagnosed after a colonoscopy in feb, definitively diagnosed when biopsies came back over spring break) and even when i was simply waiting for results, it occupied a lot of my mental capacity. and ofc it happened to line up with me turning 26 and needing new insurance, which has caused lots of delays. anyone dealing with the american health care system while chronically ill will tell you it’s a frustrating, exhausting process. as of right now, i’m still waiting to start treatment 🫠

but honestly, even more than that, the biggest thing stopping me from writing is… me? 😂 so there’s this thing that happens after i post a chapter that’s like… decision paralysis? except it’s just that sometimes, i literally can’t bring myself to start the next chapter. it’s like, i have this unfounded fear that all my writing up until this point has been some magical fluke out of my control, and i’m not capable of ‘pulling it off’ again. i guess you could call it a form of imposter syndrome (which i already encounter enough in my vet school life). it gets worse after posting something that was a particularly massive undertaking or was insanely well-received bc i’m scared i won’t be able to top it- even though the impact of storytelling is supposed to be cohesive, and it’s unrealistic for every chapter to be ‘bigger and better’ (what does that even mean?) than the last one because they serve different purposes at different points in the story. i know this, rationally, but that doesn’t stop the irrational fear of failure from making me avoid writing.

i’m not sharing this to make excuses or garner sympathy, or fish for compliments, and certainly not to make anyone feel guilty for asking about updates. i just feel like maybe this will resonate with anyone who has the same experience. and also to share hope, because despite how often this feeling rears its ugly head, i’ve still been able to push through and get back to writing- and i’m always very happy with the result. sometimes it just takes longer than i’d like (pro tip: writing on ur phone is less intimidating, tho it’s more of a pain). but in any case, the next chapter of ‘from eden’ is well underway and i still hope to have the series done before summer’s end^^

[this-is-ally-and-im-confused]

Achilles Come Down|| T.Zegras

A/n hi hi loves! It’s been awhileeee but I’m backkkkk. Here’s a little fic based on the song “Achilles Come Down”. It’s also my first writing for Z and ofc it’s angst.

Warning:Z is in the roof, panic, fear, talk about therapy, whole lotta crying. Don’t read if you can’t handle stress!!! I love y’all.

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down. Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love you.

“Trevor pick up the phone!” You yelled at your screen.

God, you were scared. It wasn’t like your boyfriend to miss his post-game call. Even after such a series of losses. He’s normally so talkative, easy-going, and he didn’t let things like the press or his performance affect things at home.

And yet, you are still 3 hours post game with no call. It was well after midnight, you knew he’d be home soon. With the anxiety you felt, you couldn’t help but have a few tears slip down your face. You cried until sleep came and took you into its clutches.

You didn’t know how long it had been when you woke up to a very distressed Jamie shaking you.

“Y/n get up! Trevor’s on the roof. And he’s not doing too good.”

The two of you ran to the front yard. You didn’t care about the chilly night air running over your exposed arms and legs. The blood and panic pumping through you had numbed you.

Only as Trevor paced over had you decided to check your phone. It was just after 6 a.m. and you only had one text from Trevor…an apology.

“Trev! What’s wrong? Can you come down and talk to us?” You called, desperately.

“Yea Trev, come down bud.” Jamie pleaded with you.

“We love you baby. Come on down.”

The fluffy-haired boy just hung his head.

Just humor us, Achilles, Achilles, come down. Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

By now, your heart was pumping three times too fast. Jamie’s hand on your shoulder was the only thing keeping you upright.

All you wanted to know was what had driven Trevor, the sweetest guy you know, to act so irrational.

“Z, please. Just come down. We can get some rest and talk about this when you feel better.”

“I-I can’t!”

You crave the applause yet hate the attention–then miss it, your act is a ruse.

The boy stood on the edge of the building, his hands gripping the ends of his hair. Tears poured down in fat droplets over his rosy cheeks.

“Baby, talk to me.” You called.

“E-everyone needs me! They need me to be happy, to be the face of the team–and I can’t live up to that. What about how I feel when I want to disappear? What if I don’t want to be THE Trevor Zegras, what then?”

You paused. Had he really felt like this the entire time? You glanced over at Jamie, and he was looking back at you. He could relate to the hockey side better than you could.

So the darker-haired boy stepped forward looking upwards to his best friend.

“I get it bud. We can talk to coach, get a you a therapist or a break. But this–this isn’t the way to do things. You’re scaring y/n, and you’re scaring me.”

Trevor’s eyes finally met yours. He looked at you with such pain, you felt your heart crack.

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down. Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

“Honey, please.”

It was all you could beg before tears complete fell in rivers. Your vision was blurry and you were shaking while leaning into Jamie.

A few moments later you were standing clutching a sobbing Trevor. Jamie’s arms wrapped around the both of you. There were so many tears. So many things left unsaid.

All you could think of was how grateful you were for the two boys. You had never seen before exactly how much things could add up and take a toll.

No words were said as the three of you parted, you gave Jamie one last hug and whispered how you could take Trevor for the night but the three of you would talk in the morning.

With that, you brought Trevor to your bed and lulled the restless boy to sleep.

[mello-bee]

my favorite one so far-

I'm still brainstorming him but so far I've got this:

Ricker is a second year octavinelle student!

Ricker is from a family of professional fishers, they live near the ocean but visit lakes and rivers frequently to catch different types of fish there

Ricker can't swim and has an irrational fear of alligators and sharks, so he never enjoyed the family business and wishes to stay away from it, he's using NRC to discover his abilities and passions. he's never travelled much so he's trying experience other environments in the forms of the personalized dorms as well.

his family aren't very accepting of his passions or the fact that he's drifting away from their family business, and it frustrates him that they're still insistent on pressuring him to get back in the fishing business, even after he lost his hand to an alligator on the last fishing trip he had went to.

still despite his fear of the ocean, he really likes to play up his "pirate persona", he doesn't find himself as scared of the ocean when he's on a big ship (such as a pirate ship) where the dangerous creatures of the sea can't get him

(unfortunately, it appears the dangerous creatures of the sea are also his dormmates now, who would've saw this coming)

unlike what you'd think, he's actually not very traumatized by the alligator incident, sure it strengthened his fear of the ocean but he was still very young when it happened, so he doesn't remember the details completely. he's fine with people making jokes about it (cough cough Floyd) he even makes jokes himself! its part if his "pirate" persona afterall.

he's very greedy, much like an actual pirate, as displayed with his signature spell. he's also very dramatic, you'd think his true passion is theater! maybe it is? he enjoys halloween events at the mostro lounge the most, because he gets to roleplay with the customers!

that's all i have lol, but while you're still here have this WIP

yes he's the first oc getting a fake dorm uniform card, yes this is clear favoritism, no im not giving a horrendous fedora, just because the fish mafia can pull it off doesn't mean everyone can

and ofc, inspired by ↓↓↓

[gloriaris]

throws fic at you

Attachment. 1.8k words, NBLNB. Deathshroom (ofc).

Charlie wouldn't say he liked anyone.

He had May, of course, but his attachment to May was involuntary. Xe worked for her out of both obligation as her nephew and out of necessity for a place to live, but there was nothing more behind it, just a simple mutual respect (and, to be perfectly fair, fear of her temper). 

The only other person in his life was not even worth mentioning. Their attachment to her was completely irrational, selfish, and moronic, and was not even worth acknowledging due to its complete irrelevance in his life. Their partnership was one of– well, not quite business. He wasn't sure how to describe their relationship, but it was completely divorced from the attachment he had with them. It didn't matter how idiotic Kasey Waters acted, nothing was going to change that.

Charlie wouldn't say he liked anyone. At least not out loud.

Xe was pondering the meaning of this irrational attachment when the bell of the deli rang, signaling the door opening. Kasey wasted no time climbing on the counter, right next to where Charlie sat behind it.

"Whatcha doooing?" he singsonged, like a toddler.

"Working. Clearly. What are you doing?" 

"Isn't it obvious? I'm hanging out with you." He punctuated this by squeezing the tip of Charlie's nose. Charlie swatted their hand away.

"Fine. What were you doing while you were gone?"

Kasey's only response was a loud clatter as they dropped something on the counter. 

Charlie looked over and immediately swiped the gun off the counter. It flew across the room, hidden under the stock cabinet.

"Jesus, Kasey! Keep the weapons hidden, we are in public!"

"Charlie!" May hissed from across the shop.

Kasey only shrugged. "It's five minutes until close, we'll be fine. If someone comes in now, May will throw them out."

Charlie rolled xyr eyes. "Still. We can't be too careful."

"I think we can. I think you're too careful, sweetie pie." Kasey pinched their cheek. 

Charlie swatted their hand away, flushing red. "Shut up, you idiot. Don't make me use that gun."

May came back to the counter with an empty crate that had once held bags of dry pasta. "Get blood on my floor and you will see for yourself that there is a god, il mio fungo piccolo." She plopped the crate on the counter. "Take this out back and I'll close shop. La stellina can help me."

Kasey turned to Charlie. "She means you," he clarified.

He grunted as he stood, both of his knees cracking at the same time, and swept the mushrooms that had grown on his lap into the trash. He took the crate off the counter and headed towards the dumpster in the back of the building.

As they broke down the box, Charlie found his cheek burning where Kasey had pinched it. Why was this stupid attachment so strong? His head spun as he tried to think about it logically, but he found no words in his rather extensive vocabulary to describe what he was feeling.

He dropped the box unceremoniously into the recycling and went back inside to find Kasey and May speaking in hushed voices. The mop lay abandoned on the floor.

"Uh, hello?"

Kasey practically jumped into the air at the sound of his voice. "Oh, hi, Charlie, we were just…" 

Charlie raised an eyebrow. It was odd to see him this… speechless. For once, Kasey Waters was at a loss for words, scrambling to come up with an explanation.

"You know what? Whatever. I'm going upstairs." 

And so he did.

...

Charlie wouldn't say he liked anyone.

Xe stared at the ceiling of his dingy living room, repeating this to himself like a mantra. You don't like anyone. Not May, not that cretin, nobody.

He turned over on the sofa, huddling further under the scratchy wool blanket. Still, his heart beat fast in his chest, the pinching of his cheek repeating over and over in his head. Xyr cheeks flushed red at the memory, and he groaned, hiding his face in the cushions of the sofa.

The door to the apartment opened with a creak, and Charlie heard footsteps as Kasey entered the apartment. They heard the opening of a couple cabinets and a clatter of dishes as Kasey looked for something to eat.

"Have fun shit talking me?"

Charlie found himself saying this without much thought or consideration. It left his mouth effortlessly, on its own accord.

There was a loud clang as Kasey dropped the pan they were holding.

"What? Charlie, we weren't shit talking you. Why would we be doing that?"

Charlie scoffed. "Don't patronize me. I know exactly what you were saying about me." He turned over, staring at the ceiling. "I know I'm not the most likable person."

"Charlie…" Kasey put the pan back in the cabinet and walked over to the couch, sitting on the end. He found himself scrambling to sit up, uncomfortable with laying down next to her.

"Charlie, we weren't shit talking you. I'm not sure why you think we would."

He rolled his eyes. "Why wouldn't you? I may be an asshole, but I'm not unaware of my own faults." He brought his knees to his chest. "I know that there is a lot to criticize, and I am not mad at you for confiding in someone else."

For once, Kasey's voice was deathly serious. "Charlie. We weren't shit talking you."

He turned to look at them, and found his expression to be completely void of even a hint of sarcasm. "We were talking about something else."

"Something you can't talk about with me?"

"Yes."

"And what can you not talk about with me, besides my general shittiness?" He turned away again. "You tell me everything. Much more than I'd like to know. Why would this be any different?"

Kasey sighed. "I can't tell you that yet."

"And what is stopping you, besides a fear of hurting my feelings? Don't lie to me, I know I am shitty. You can't hurt my feelings on this."

Kasey inhaled sharply. "Okay, I am not a therapist, but one, you aren't shitty, and two, even if it was about you being shitty, you're not this impenetrable fortress with no emotions. Just because you can be a bit of a hardass doesn't mean you don't have feelings."

"It doesn't matter how I feel. I would much rather you shit talk to my face so I know what I am doing wrong."

Kasey sputtered. "What– of course it matters how you feel! And we've been over this, we weren't shit talking you–"

"Then what you were talking about?!?" Charlie's voice rose to a roar.

"How I'm in love with you!"

Charlie's eyes widened, and they shifted away from Kasey on the couch. Kasey looked away, eyebrows furrowing. "I'm in love with you, Charlie Parker. And I knew May would rather I tell her first."

"What– no, you're lying." Charlie ran a hand through his hair, tightening his ponytail nervously. "You're lying, there's no way that's true, you can't love me, you can't–"

"And why not?" Kasey's voice was low and quiet, as if trying to soothe Charlie's panic. "You're kind, and a deep thinker, and stubborn, and way too smart for someone who was kidnapped when they were 16. I love you, Charlie Parker." He scooched towards them on the couch and took his hand in theirs. "Do you… do you like me back?"

Charlie's eyes danced across Kasey's face, searching for the smallest hint of sarcasm on their face, searching for answers. "I– I don't know, I–"

Oh no.

Oh no.

Something in Charlie's brain clicked. The irrational attachment, the desire to be close with him, the uncontrollable blushing, the fast heartbeat.

"Oh god," he cried. "I think I do."

His stomach heaved, and he bolted towards the kitchen. Xe just barely made it to the sink when xe vomited. Kasey quickly followed behind him, filling a glass of water and handing them a paper towel to wipe their nose. He gagged at the gentleness of the gesture, at the concerned look in their good eye, at the tentative hand on their shoulder as they heaved up more vomit.

They wiped their nose with the paper towel, staring forward at the wall above the sink, at the garish decor May had chosen when the apartment was still hers, at anything besides Kasey.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"What?! No, don't be sorry, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry, I can leave now, I–"

Charlie whirled around and pulled Kasey into a tight hug.

"Please don't leave." His voice was quiet, desperate. "I love you."

The words sounded so right as they left his mouth, and as Kasey sank into the embrace, he found his vision blurring with tears.

They stayed like that for a while, rocking back and forth in each others' arms. A couple tears fell from Charlie's eyes, but he didn't dare wipe them away lest they notice he was crying. When Kasey pulled away, Charlie cleared his throat, wiping his eyes and straightening his glasses.

"I mean, you're an idiot, and way too confident, and annoying. But unfortunately, it seems I have an irrational attachment to you."

Kasey raised an eyebrow. "You're in love with me."

"Well I wouldn't– I wouldn't say that, it's more like–" He rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I've grown fond of your moronics."

"Awww, someone's in looove!" Kasey sang, pointing at him teasingly.

"I am not in love– I take it back. You are insufferable."

"Aw, it's okay. I love you too." He pecked Charlie on the cheek. Mushrooms sprouted where their lips once were, and he brushed them off with his thumb.

"Tu stronzo piccolo–" He swatted away Kasey's hand, vision clouded by the mushrooms that quickly overtook xyr face. "I will kill you, and I don't care that May will kill me in return for getting blood on the floor."

Kasey giggled. Charlie turned away, sweeping the mushrooms off his face and into the garbage.

"Don't bother. I have a feeling that I'll make a lot more mushrooms grow tonight."

Charlie's eyes widened, and he clawed at his face, breaking off the mushrooms as fast as they grew. "You arrogant, insufferable fool– shut the FUCK up–"

"Or what?" he teased. "You'll shoot more of your cute insults my way?"

His hands worked even quicker at sweeping off the mushrooms. "I am not cute, and you will not refer to me as such, or I will–" He struggled to come up with a solid threat, and instead just looked at the ceiling and groaned in frustration. Kasey tilted his head, smirking.

"Go brush your teeth and wash the vomit out of your mouth so I can kiss you already."

Charlie sputtered insults the whole way to the bathroom.

...

Charlie wouldn't say he liked anyone.

But as he laid with Kasey Waters asleep on his chest, their breath slow, snoring softly, he would say one thing.

He loved someone.

He loved Deadpool.

He loved Kasey Waters.

...

anyways I'm gay. seeya

[piskinkk]

just remembered the reason i hate going to my russian pediatrician so much.

it’s not because of the shots or the vaccines.

it because of the stupid, rude, unethical shit she says. she is beyond unprofessional.

first, she started off with showing me a graph of my weight history. ofc i gained. i knew that already. i wanted to say please don’t, and i will next time for sure.

but she has been saying that i was overweight even when i was 125 pounds. what a joke…

she started to shame me for the amount of gain i weight, saying that it is literally unacceptable. what the fuck.

and then she spent 10 minutes brainwashing my dad about my brother’s diet, WHILE MY BROTHER IS STILL IN THE SAME ROOM HEARING ALL OF THAT.

thats fucking ridiculous. i don’t want my brother to have an eating disorder and regret every single thing he eats.

and ofc, my dad being my dad, he took everything she said very seriously and thought the tone she said it in was completely fine 👍🏻 but that’s because he is crazy about dieting and probably has an eating disorder too. he has been trying to lose weight his entire life…

then she started brainwashing me. and me being me, i took everything with a HUGE grain of salt. in fact, i didn’t listen to anything. i slowly blinked to everything she said, simply to show her that i disagree, but i’ll let her speak her stupid “doctor” formalities to me.

i’ve started to eat better and exercise. it’s never enough for her. it makes me wonder, maybe SHE has some kind of problem with her weight; so she just projects it on her patients…

anyways, i told her i probably have some kind of mental issue and that i was bullied for my weight. i didn’t want to sound like i’m self diagnosing, but honestly - i’m pretty sure i have an eating disorder. i overeat and then regret and then do it all again - is that not enough evidence? i hate myself and i have just started to feel a little more pretty and confident about my body but she just single-handedly destroyed it all.

any efforts i’ve been making to feel better about my gain weight - all just went down the drain.

she told me that i am of course “very beautiful” and would basically be even more beautiful if i lost weight.

im sure that isn’t all of the insensitive things she said to me. i’m sure there is more that i am probably so desensitized to.

she also said that she has had the same issue her whole life and still does.

no you do not. if you did - you would never be so unprofessional and rude about diets and overall weight gain. because you would understand exactly how it feels when someone, especially a professional, speaks of your weight gain in such a demeaning, degrading way.

and then to end it off, the nurse opened the door wide open while i was changing so everyone saw my huge tits in my black lacy bra 👍🏻 and i literally caught this other guy my age looking right at my chest 🥳👍🏻

i had to hold my tears the entire appointment.

and even my fucking dad kept making it worse. he just said the same exact things she said to me.

when i asked him to stay with me when getting my vaccine because i was a little scared he shamed me and embarrassed me and said i’m 18 - i shouldn’t have to ask him to do that.

even the nurse was like - it’s okay, she just doesn’t like it.

EVEN THE NURSE UNDERSTANDS THE STUPID IRRATIONAL FEARS. YEAH ITS SILLY BUT I HATE SHOTS. WHY CANF U J BE HERE?

god, is there just anyone in my family or surroundings that isn’t a blunt fucking asshole? beside my mom, is there anyone who is not rude and understands that you cannot be so straight up mean with certain things when talking to other people? anyone that understands that we all have our sensitive topics?

[custom-emojis]

hiyo, i keep feeling bad because i had a very toxic friend, and i'm fairly sure she had bpd and it was influencing how she treated me, but i've seen so many people with bpd say how people leaving them can be really hurtful, and i feel bad. i understand supporting people with bpd, but i feel like if someone is really putting someone else through shit, asking them to suffer through that just because the person had bpd would be wrong, right?

like, ofc bpd isn't evil, and neither are people who have it, but if someone is dealing with their illness by hurting others instead of focusing on their own healing, that's their fault and i feel like no one should have to stay with a toxic friend just for fear that if they don't they're being ableist because their toxic friend has a mental illness.

i'm not saying this is your belief, but it's the sentiment i've received heavily from a lot of the posts i've seen about people breaking off friendships with people who have bpd, and it made me feel bad for doing that to my friend because i start to think i should've tolerated her toxicity because she was struggling with her mental health, and i don't want to feel like a bad person for prioritizing my own. so... it wasn't wrong of me to do that, right? i know she was struggling and couldn't control what she was struggling with, but i'm not a bad person for not excusing that or forgiving her, am i? sorry, i know this is super random and if it makes you uncomfy i'm very sorry, i just thought since you have bpd, if you give an answer to it i would trust you, idk.

Anon. First off im going to tell you off the bat this was a very fucking shitty ask to send me. and as a warning for my followers: I WILL be unapologetically angry over this.

First off, anon, lets get the elephant in the room out of the way: anybody can leave any kind of relationship they want, for any reason. even if its NOT toxic or abusive, if you want to leave someone and they happen to have bpd. you're in your full right to do that.

now. with that out of the way: you say

"i'm fairly sure she had bpd and it was influencing how she treated me"

Now, 'fairly sure' isn't the same as 'she has bpd'. DOES she have bpd? or are you just ASSIGNING her bpd because she was abusive and controlling?

"like, ofc bpd isn't evil, and neither are people who have it, but if someone is dealing with their illness by hurting others instead of focusing on their own healing, that's their fault and i feel like no one should have to stay with a toxic friend just for fear that if they don't they're being ableist because their toxic friend has a mental illness."

first off, if your sentence starts with 'bpd isnt evil and neither are the people who have it, BUT" then thats probably not a good start. secondly, yeah. obviously. no fucking shit. if someone is being, you know. ABUSIVE. then they're abusive, regardless of their mental illness. and nobody should have to stay with them.

"i'm not saying this is your belief, but it's the sentiment i've received heavily from a lot of the posts i've seen about people breaking off friendships with people who have bpd, and it made me feel bad for doing that to my friend because i start to think i should've tolerated her toxicity because she was struggling with her mental health, and i don't want to feel like a bad person for prioritizing my own"

You sure as fuck made it seem like you think thats my belief. Heres a little tidbit for you: "Anybody can leave anybody they want, for any reason, regardless of anything" and "people who have BPD do find abandonment to be extremely upsetting and sometimes downright traumatizing" are sentances that can and do co-exist. Even so. Even if some weird ass people WERE ever actually implying that: that is ENTIRELY not my fucking problem. Literally. I do not know you. We are strangers. I am a stranger to you.

so... it wasn't wrong of me to do that, right? i know she was struggling and couldn't control what she was struggling with, but i'm not a bad person for not excusing that or forgiving her, am i? sorry, i know this is super random and if it makes you uncomfy i'm very sorry, i just thought since you have bpd, if you give an answer to it i would trust you, idk.

No! it wasnt! and also, I'm not your fucking therapist! Me off handedly mentioning i have bpd and that my fp left me is NOT me opening the doors to you traumadumping on me and asking invasive and uncomfortable things about my complex trauma disorder!

people fucking demonize cluster-Bs enough as it is, why the fuck should i have to essentially coddle you and take the fall as someone with bpd just because your abuser had it.

you didnt deserve your abuse, nobody does! but its not my fucking job as a random stranger running an EMOJI BLOG who just so happened to offhandedly mention my bpd due to the relevance to a video game, to be a monolith for all those with bpd and try to convince people who already hate us due to stigma the very basic concept of 'we can be hurt by things, and our pain can be extremely irrational. and thats kind of the entire fucking point of the disorder, the fact that its irrational and a whole Problem. but we are not inherently abusive because of this, and evenif our pain is irrational or unfair we are still allowed to feel that pain as long as we understand where its coming from and how to deal with it. and we're allowed to express that pain'

and then, even further ontop of that. I literally said said fp was bad. they hurt me in other ways.

this is all in all, one of the most frustrating asks i think ive ever gotten.

you're not ableist for leaving them but you sure as fuck are by sending me this ask

[totallynotpuri]

i had a lot more points to make but couldn't articulate them well enough lmao. anyway /rp ofc, /nm just in case, and lets get into it

okay so i think the Most upsetting part of today's streams for the audience is that we know more than the characters do. and that means that characters are going to act on their ironic ignorance and its going to be frustrating to watch.

case in point: phil telling tommy to tear down the walls. phil, trying to give genuine advice, tells tommy that his 2 block high walls are useless, trapping him in with his own fear, and need to go. however, phil is unaware of the fact that tommy isn't dealing with some irrational fear of a guy whose kind of scary, his abuser/murderer is actively out to get him and he is battling with the trauma inflicted by that same man. the walls aren't some random offense mechanisms tommy is fixtating on, that he planned to build up to block height and stay holed up inside forever. theyre a coping mechanism, because tommy relaxes when he does small builds and defensive walls made out of those specific blocks are comforting to him. we know theyre an illusion of safety. it doesn't really matter what the walls are going to do, just that tommy feels more safe and in control with them, in a situation where he is completely without control and in danger.

and so people got upset. rightfully so. phil, who knows nothing of dream's abuse and tommy's trauma, told tommy to give up his coping mechanism because he had no knowledge of how it helped to reassure tommy

(also, at what point did tommy out the walls above his friends? when did he claim they were worth anymore than other people? he was a scared kid trying to fortify his house, i don't understand why its regarded as "dangerous" or "limiting" for him to do so?)

Before I start this, know that this isn't a neg against any character, just an overview of how I view them. I don't intend to sound like I dislike a certain character or their actions, this is just an analysis. Also /rp /nm

I think you have many points. Yes Phil doesn't understand the true underlying trauma with Tommy, yes Phil doesn't understand the coping mechanism of Tommy (and honestly, neither do I. I am in no place to deem something a good or bad coping mechanism since I myself do not understand them entirely)

However, I think it's unfair to say that Phil knows nothing about the trauma that Tommy is facing, especially after Tommy's two latest lore streams.

Tommy came running in from the tundra screaming and he was completely ready to shoot and kill whoever was chasing him, crossbow out. Even after he said that he couldn't see Dream, he still told Tommy that he'd shoot Dream if he crossed the border. Phil saying that he trusts and believes Tommy is proof that he knows it's not an irrational fear, Phil saying "the first thing he (Dream) does when he gets out of prison is torment a child. I swear to god, I'm gonna fucking murder this teletubby piece of shit, what the fuck is wrong with him" and agreeing to walk Tommy home is proof that he knows, at least now, some level of trauma that Tommy has that was caused by Dream.

However, the thing with Tommy *thinking* that the walls are going to help is that it puts him in a false sense of security. He says that he needs to build walls around his base when Dream breaks out because he thinks that the walls will keep Dream out and keep him safe. He thinks that if he builds the walls, it'll be safe for him. However, him building walls and boxing himself in obsidian in Tubbo's house prevent him from looking at the bigger picture of it all, which is that there are people out there willing to help him, and he's not going to be able to see them if he keeps building himself in.

I feel like I phrased it bad on my part, when I say "he shouldn't place the walls above his friends", I meant that he shouldn't place the walls on the top of his priorities list, above reaching out to his friends and people who care for him

And building protections isn't bad! I should mention that the concept of building up defenses is good! Tommy building a safe house is good! Heck, the concept of the wall was good! HOWEVER, he was doing it by himself, he was blocking himself in. Now, however, he's asking Sam Nook and Phil and Eryn to help him, he's not going forward alone.

Tommyinnit's greatest strength is that, when he's surrounded by people who support him just as much as he supports them, he's able to conquer amazing things. But when he's building those walls around his base, he's putting up a physical barrier between not only him and Dream, but also him and Phil or Tubbo or Sapnap or Quackity.

Tommy's weakness comes when he is alone. When he builds those walls around his base, that's when he's the loneliest. Dream knows that, and he's *trying* to make Tommy feel alone, he wants Tommy to think that there's nobody to help him and that all he can do is to wall himself in. Tommy needs to break through that mentality and get proper support.

And it's already starting! He's got solid support from Quackity, Sapnap, and Phil. Yes, none of them know the true extent of it all, but they're there to help. Tommy has to realize that, at the end of the day, even if the walls help, the true power he has comes from his friends and allies.

[littlebabycrybtch]

tbh... we have absolutely FAILED ppl with ea/ting disor.ders so fucking unimaginably bad, especially the visibly underweight ones. and we are still failing them to this day by avoiding valuable education out of discomfort and demonization. its genuinely appalling sometimes, to see just how Dangerously ignorant ppl are about this shit. bros listen 2 me rn. you are not a doctor, and you are Not going cure an ed with your almost laughably ignorant and malicious ‘reverse psychology’ bit where you call someone an ugly skeleton knocking on deaths door whos body needs to be banned from instagram forever, because you’re just ‘so scared theyre gonna die’ or w/e so you can legit pretend they dont exist, holy fucking Shit dude. that shame-and-shun tactic is so unbelievably dangerous. like, if you knew Anything REAL abt these disorders or frankly any mental health issues and cared enough to apply that then you would understand how thats just... pure cruelty. im sorry to be blunt but yeah this isnt a joke, it needs to be said that you are easily going to KILL SOMEONE with that kind of unfiltered uneducated IGNORANCE. it is inexcusably selfish, harmful, and ableist behavior, we have to stop this already.

imo there’s a Lot to be said about the toxicity spiral thats become the pro recovery movement and how much it rejects and speaks over the people its Supposed to support, becoming more about ‘anti symptoms’ than pro anything, but if you are gonna understand Anything new today at least learn this;;; hating yourself at unhealthy is Never ever going to be the key to loving yourself at healthy. being ashamed of yourself FOR being unhealthy, will NOT make you healthier, it’ll make you worse every time. im not tryna be mean but honestly how the actual FUCK do yalls brains work, it is SO wildly damaging to let yourself perpetuate this type of mindset, and then still claim pro recovery or w/e like recovery doesnt have to start at unhealthy??? like itll just happen overnight??? like that’ll help??? like if ppl catch you displaying symptoms of the disorder you LITERALLY HAVE, you arent allowed to talk abt it in any form without intense open negativity towards it and yourself, so ppl know ur definitely totally against it tho and not enabling urself, bc if you dont talk abt ur shame and embarrassment for it that means you arent recovering and need a mob after you??? thats how you think people are gonna get better????

ffs dont try to viciously shame yourself out of bad habits and treat your disorders like taboo, respect and love yourself wholly, the good and the bad, if you want to form better habits!!! ppl NEED to be encouraged to love themselves at unhealthy if they ever want to improve. you are not going to accidentally make them worse by not constantly shaming all their ‘flaws’, they are not MADE of ‘flaws’. by showing support for the mentally ill, you are not fucking supporting their ‘symptoms’, you are a supporting THE FUCKING PERSON EXPERIENCING THEM. and you DESPERATELY NEED TO DO THAT!! there is MORE TO THEM than their symptoms! there are things to COMPLIMENT them on besides their body! its gotten to this point that like. ppl are actually Afraid of just being nice to ppl with eds. they dont even wanna treat them like Humans outside of their disorder, all they see is a disorder. everyone is just SO afraid of ‘enabling’ them by not being vocally against their symptoms that they avoid them like the plague and dont even try to build them up, which is what they fucking need more than anything dude!! 

ppl think refusing to ever let an underweight person feel pretty or love their body where they are at is what they need and will force them to recover, or they think giving them goals like ‘you’ll be so much happier with a bigger body’ and ‘keep going one day you wont look so sick’ is at all different than their own internal dialogue, when the Truth (that people need to fucking know by now!), is that shame with mental health is incredibly dangerous, eds are diverse but theyre most often rooted in starvation as a form of self harm from an unwavering self hatred and feeling of failure or lack of control, one they already have deeply ingrained and will usually feel at Any Size, which is why so many feel unsatisfied and keep going and going till they die. the answer to this problem isnt gonna be inflicting more fucking self hate or pressure. thats gasoline on a fire. you cannot just try and. UNO REVERSE CARD THE ~RULES~ OF THEIR FUCKING MENTAL DISORDER and expect RECOVERY... oh my god dude, please, id laugh out loud if this wasnt so malicious.

listen, if you wanna help, like actually Care about Helping the way you claim the root of your attitude is, you need to make that person feel like they can love themselves, not try to make them ‘realize’ how ‘bad’ they are and how uncomfortable and scared they make you and how Not Allowed their behavior is, bc 1. body dysmorphia is a delusion,,, denial is a common association with addictive/self destructive behaviors,,,, you are going about it wrong if thats the first thing you try to accomplish, and 2. whether you like it or not ‘bad’ is gonna be your first checkpoint! who would be motivated to get better when all you’re doing is giving them an already failing grade and pushing them back??? 

you’re all just... so paralyzed by ignorant fear every time you interact with someone with an ed bc you are so fucking detached from it as a concept, but you wont LEARN how to BEHAVE AROUND THESE PPL! LIKE! and then you claim you act this way ‘because you care'. ok then why do you feel like you dont have to listen or learn??? why dont you see these tactics as needlessly cruel when its explained??? bc oh you cant ‘’’’’trust’’’’ ppl with eds to tell You how to help Them, right??? they’re probably lying, you know better than them ofc. smhhh, every other mental illness community gets to speak for themselves to the ppl without their experiences and therefore the ability to hurt them, sure, but not the sneaky ed people, they created pr.0/a.na/, (the ONLY existing space for encouraging mentally ill ppl in self destructive behaviors, obviously), so they dont know what they need, they have to be Told by Normal people bc their irrational brains are Just Too Broken. (/s)............ like.............?? it is Sooo fuckin prejudiced and disgusting tbh. we gotta do better than this. 

eds are almost completely left out of communities for mental health these days. its seriously so disappointing. if you ACTUALLY ‘care’, then ok you need to swallow your pride and do better, you need to Listen and not let your personal discomforts (genuine triggers excluded!) with their appearance or behaviors get in the way of how humanized and committed your decent treatment of their disorder is. tbr, sometimes you arent just ‘concerned’ about a person, sometimes how you go about your feelings is rooted in your inner urge to validate your own discomforts with them, which means it might end up more about you than about them, which hurts them. i mean for the love of god, these ppl are not ‘irresponsible’ for existing around others with their ~unhealthy bodies~, they are not a walking trigger and cant be treated like one, they arent contagious, they will not benefit mentally from hearing you say you think they should be physically banned from posting selfies or w/e, that isolation WONT prevent eds from ~~~spreading~~~ and will severely harm the person in question, you are not making a heroic decision to try and bully them away to ‘save’ others from ever being around them or save them from being around an “enabling” (supportive recovery/not shameful) community. you are not ‘fixing’ them by making them hate their underweight bodies. you’re LITERALLY just ignorant and prejudiced and ableist, your ideas are actually Very harmful, you are not a savior, you are making it worse, plain and simple. Please just start doing better already, its kind of a life or death situation here

[terrm9]

Since i love chiara and i want to know alot about her so..1,3,5,7,9,10,11,12,13(its very long sryyy)

Dearest anon, please never apologize, I am so terribly grateful that you like Chiara and want to know so much about her. Thank you!

And I finally found out the voice claim, so yeah, lets do this.

1. What’s your oc’s most irrational fear? Is there a specific reason this fear came about?

I feel like I answered this once but I lost the answer, so again - Chiara’s irrational fear are octopuses. There are no roots to it, however just the idea of its tentacles around her leg/arm makes her shiver. Nope, octopuses won’t do.

3. What does your oc’s voice sound like? Can they sing, whistle or roll their rs? Do they have any speech impediments or notable dialects/accents?

Chiara’s voice is naturally very soft and quiet. Sometimes people have to ask her to speak louder because it is natural for her to speak slowly, softly and well, quietly.

I have the very, very particular voice in my head that I imagine for Chiara and I am absolutely sure I didn’t make that voice up, that I heard it and it exists BUT I haven’t found the woman behind it. However, I think it would be Emma Watson (sans the British accent, ofc) - but Emma’s soft voice. Like, Emma’s voice in this scene okay :D

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gg2Ak7Cz5D0

Chiara cannot sing, but that doesn’t stop her from singing at all

And for accent, huh, she is from San Francisco so I suppose it kind of shows when she is in Boston, but I am no expert when it comes to USA and its accents, so I am not going to embarass myself with further speculations:D

5. What kind of clothes is your OC most comfortable wearing?

Black skinny high-rise Levi’s, plain white V-neck t-shirt with blazer or cardigan to work and flannel shirt (her dad’s) outside of work. Honestly there is probably no outfit for OH MC that would fit Chiara’s style :(

Her color palette is not that rich, black, white, grey, navy blue, emerald green if she must :D

7. What song reminds you of this oc? Does this match up with the type of music your oc likes to listen to?

The first one that comes to my mind is Chiara by Bocelli, for obvious reasons. Other than that, Heroes by David Bowie, which is Chiara’s all time fav singer.

9. What are your oc’s goals for the future? Relationship-wise, career-wise, or other?

I definitely answered this already and again, I cannot find the answer :( To put it shortly, in relationships - she sees Ethan in her future, for sure. She accepts that he is not into marriage and so she wouldn’t push it (even though she can see herself getting married). The same goes for kids - she would like to have kid(s), but believing that she cannot have them biologically, the adoption is the only option she considers and she accepts if Ethan doesn’t feel the same way. If it’s onaly her and E, she can be happy. As for career, she just wants to help people and make a difference in their lives. She does not aim to be the best diagnositician, or the most famous or the richest. She just wants to be a good doctor.

10. Who’s the first person your oc goes to to talk about something that made them happy? Sad? Angry?

Her first choice would be Ethan (because they are s o u l m a t e s), but if Ethan is the issue, then Bryce. Bryce is Chiara’s best friend and the person she trusts with her life, her brother and there is nothing she would keep from him. He is her rock.

11. Does your oc have any interests/hobbies that they hide from anyone?

Chiara loves painting and considered being a painter in high school. She does not exactly hide this, but she doesn’t talk about it either - she feels like it’s in the past. Her roommates know, however, as she has some of her paintings in her room. Ethan knows too and ofc Bryce.

12. How does your oc handle talking to somebody they can’t stand? What if it’s a situation where they are forced to work with this person?

She is an adult and so she tries to handle everything like one. She is not happy about it, but she stays civil and is as polite as possible. Of course, if the person is an absolute asshole, she would put them in place, but there is no drama. No, no, Chiara knows better than to cause drama.

13. What is your oc’s dream home like?

A small house near water. A sea, lake, river, she does not care, she just wants to have a possibility of being near water every day. Water is what calms Chiara and so she does not need big house/apartment, she would just like it to be near water.

MASSIVE THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS!

[hongseokkie]

Heeeyyyyy, it’s an afternoon! I’m your Uni Anon, I wish I was able to get to you quicker but I was experiencing -life difficulties- but I’m here now and I have questions to ask!!!

Can You Feel It: Did/do you take part in any extracurriculars at school? What were they?

Shine: What is currently your favorite movie/tv show/book/song?

Cosmo: What’s your zodiac sign? Do you believe in zodiacs/horoscopes?

Sha La La: A hobby you have that you enjoy?

Dr. Bebe: Do you have any irrational fears?

Well that’s all I have for you right now, I hope you can get back to me and that you have a lovely rest of your day!

HELLO OMG HI UNI ANON IM SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO ANSWER PLS FORGIVE ME :((((((((( i just started uni and im really feeling the pressure heh. also hey dw u can take ur time btw i dont mind!!! hmmm the one extracurricular i took part of in high school was arts council but only bc it was lowkey mandatory for arts kids, as i went for visual arts so yeah. my favourite tv show at the moment is a korean variety show called how do you play? even tho i am a few weeks behind!! my zodiac sign in scorpio and i dont take horoscopes too seriously (like at all) but its fun to think about sometimes!!! a hobby i enjoy would have to probably be drawing ofc :DDD and also making gifs and gfx. hmm not really any irrational fears.... maybe like.. failure or being left behind/forgotten kinda things owo. how about you? THESE QUESTIONS WERE FUN TO ANSWER AND I HOPE U HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY/NIGHT :)))))))))

[blog-sliverofjade]

Hearth Fires 5: Waking Up

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary:  Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 2363

Content warning for canonical fantasy racism.  When I started writing this, I hadn’t realized that fantasy racism can be problematic.  I based it on real world examples so it’s a weird mix of actual peoples’ experiences atop a fictional shifter race.  

As you read, try to remember that these aren’t instances I dreamed up in my head, they came from authentic occurrences in the US.  The excerpt before the second part?  Taken from flyers posted in 2019.  This is reality for actual, living, breathing people to this day.

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the stupendous pandabearer

Remi’s cat crouched in preparation to battle with the strange predator in sheep’s clothing in their midst; pinpricks in his bottom lip were a sure sign that his teeth were more feline than human at the moment, and his claws itched to unsheath.  How could he have been so blind? He needed to eliminate the threat before anyone could question his leadership, a lethal strike to prove his dominance.

That thought wasn’t him.  It was an echo of another alpha from another time and brought him out of the homicidal haze with a cold splash of dread.  He had to shove the memories and the associated sick feeling in his gut into a box in order to concentrate on the situation at hand.

Holding himself with a predator’s stillness, he studied his prey.  Whenever one of his packmates was unduly intimidated by someone, outsider or not, he and the pack kept a close eye on that individual.  He didn’t haul off and rip their throat out. He could hardly bring her down in front of their youngest in the middle of what was meant to be a celebration.  Such casual exposure to violence could damage young psyches, as well he knew. Yet, it was all he could do not to charge over there and tear the ocelot away from the little family.  Unlike that other alpha, he couldn’t act upon suspicion alone.

The baby hunter had no compunctions about cuddling up to Lorelei, something she would never have done if Lorelei was even close to going rogue.  Moreover, several cubs surrounded her now, curious about the visitor. Their youngest, hunter or otherwise, were some of the best judges of character and the best litmus test when it came to the health of a pack.  It was when the adults didn’t pay attention that problems arose.

“He’s different.”

“Oh sweetie, of course he is.  He lost his mate. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

He shook off the echoes of the past like his cat shook off water and shoved them back in the box.

The music had switched from general background party music to a dance mix, which made overhearing their conversation difficult even with his superior hearing.  Moving closer, he stopped at one of the tables of food so he could eavesdrop without being noticed. Staring at the ocelot would only put her on her guard.

Lorelei didn’t appear on the verge of a rampage; rather, she seemed overwhelmed.  Then again, who wouldn’t be when surrounded by the cubs who were peppering her with questions?  His tension eased a fraction when he saw that none of them appeared scared of her.

“Just you and your nana and papa?”  Remi couldn’t help a small smile at Jasper’s wide-eyed incredulity.  Most of their little ones had grown up in packs or in extended family units at the very least.  Such a small family without ties to dozens of “aunties” and “uncles,” as well as numerous friends of all ages, was an unthinkable concept to them.

The interrogation wandered into what type of cat she was since she smelled different and, to his knowledge, none of them had met an ocelot.  They were much smaller than leopards and the children would probably be delighted at having a grown-up playmate their own size. She was actually rather good with them once she relaxed, and he wondered how she’d handle being swamped by them when they were the same size.  He grinned at the thought of little cats ending up in a wrestling pile and the knot in his chest eased.

Elias waded through the throng to speak to Lorelei.  What came out of his mouth must not have been his usual bullshit because she didn’t slap him.  He seemed downright courteous, which was unnatural and creeping Remi out more than a bit. Lorelei only nodded to him after Tien gave her an encouraging smile.

The senior soldier pulled Lorelei to join the growing cluster of dancers.  While she was willing, it was painfully obvious that she was far from comfortable in her own skin, moving stiffly and keeping her head on a swivel to look for anyone staring.  Elias, picking up on her discomfort, shifted to hide her much smaller body with his own. In thanks, she smiled up at him and shifted slightly closer.

His cat wanted to be the one to crack open her prickly exterior and unravel the mystery of her.  The only problem was after seeing her interactions with the pack, Remi seemed to be the only one she wanted to swipe a claw at.

The rancid emotions he had stuffed down sprang back with a vengeance, sending irrational jealousy spiking through him.  For some reason, she brought out his inner psychopath, all the dark urges and instincts that he kept chained within. Very few knew about them, and he intended to keep it that way.

With a sigh, he rubbed at his temples to ease his pounding headache.  If only he could place the blame on the recent circulation of human supremacy rhetoric, but that would merely be an excuse for his own lack of control.  He told himself that things would be better once she was pack since he disliked having an unprotected submissive female in his territory, which was true, especially with the possibility of active anti-Changeling groups in the area.

He felt scraped raw on the inside.  It had been a while since he’d been this spun up in his head and he needed to get that sucker back on straight.  This was a time for joy, not the shadows haunting him.

“Leaving already?” Lark asked from behind him.  She had managed to sneak up on him, which was a sure sign that he was off his game.

“If you feel the need to babysit, go chase after the cubs,” he growled over his shoulder.

“I’m doing my job.”  She let his temper roll off her.  “Need someone to run with?” He shook his head.  He’d prefer a good fight, but in this mood he was likely to shred even a sentinel.  “Remember you have to be back in time to help judge the costume contest.”

An affirmative grunt.  Pack bonds were important, especially in such a young pack, but he had to vent this before his attitude began to affect everyone else.

WAKE UP HUMANS!

Our children deserve a future free of Changeling violence.  These animals come into our communities with their drugs and violence, lowering property values, living off welfare, and preying on hard-working humans.  In the name of “political correctness,” we the taxpayers are prevented from standing up to these parasites.

DON’T BE DELUDED BY A “BRIGHT NEW FUTURE”

We need to change the country’s liberal policies that are eroding our values.  It’s alright to be human and we need to stop being ashamed of it. Changelings want us afraid and divided to prevent us from having a group identity.  We have been the victims of the other races for too long. They try to divide us, take away our rights, and plan to eliminate us because they fear us.

STOP CONTRIBUTING TO HUMAN GENOCIDE!!!  KEEP THE HUMAN RACE PURE!!!

       -Excerpt from letters sent to residents of Sevier County, Tennessee September 2083

Lorel hummed and swayed along to music while she piped bright pink rosettes onto the rows of cupcakes in front of her.  The radio was set to the show of the DJ from the party, a pretty human packmember by the name of Aoife. Country wasn’t her typical choice of genre, but it reminded her of dancing at the party.  She hardly knew anything about Elias, and therefore had no feelings about him one way or the other, yet she couldn’t get the other night out of her mind; not that she was dreaming of the soldier or anything.  

She had been completely dumbfounded; no one had ever asked her to dance.  Well, not since that horrible prom night in high school, anyway. While she’d doubted that the leopard would try to pull what her teenaged date had, she had looked to Tien and gotten reassurance.  She barely knew the other woman but trusted that Tien wouldn’t knowingly put her in danger.

It had been a long time since anyone other than her aunt had touched her, and far longer since she’d had any physical contact of a non-platonic nature.  Elias had made it clear that he found her interesting and attractive, which she could have chalked up to the promiscuous nature of Changelings. But he had also been respectful of her boundaries even though it was obvious that her limits were far more stringent than that of a Changeling’s, and possibly those of many humans.

She kept her distance not just because she didn’t want them to assume she was easy, or that she was going to join the pack, but because it simply felt too good and not even in a sexual way.  At first, Elias’ touch was nearly painful, like her skin was so focused in its need that every sensation was heightened ten-fold to absorb everything at once. Startled by the sensitivity, she had been about to retreat when the song ended, but the ache of the loss had her saying ‘yes” to the next person who approached.

The sun had set and red, yellow, orange, and white fairy lights strung between the trees had lit up.  At that point, she’d called it a night with the excuse that she had to work in the morning; while that was true, she had worried that she’d be tempted to go exploring the woods in animal form.  Even if they’d allowed her, she couldn’t permit the cat to take over.

Tien had approached her with arms wide in expectation of a hug.  Unsure of what to do, Lorel did her best impression of a statue as the other woman’s arms had folded around her.  It wasn’t a brief embrace, either. It was strong and warm and all-encompassing. Maternal. And she soaked it up like rain after a drought, her skin still starving even after all the dancing.  Although her aunt had lavished affection on her before going travelling, as if she’d tried to compensate for the lack over the years, there was a quality among the Changelings that felt like she was finally coming home.

Lorel had let herself relax into the hug and had, had to force herself to pull away, fussing with her clothes to keep from reaching out to the other woman again.  Her cat’s tail had lashed in irritation at the denial, but didn’t act out in any other way, thankfully.

At the sound of the door opening, she set the bag of frosting down and headed out front while wiping her hands on a clean, damp cloth.  A woman looked at something on her phone as she approached the counter.

“Good morning,” Lorel greeted her.  The customer held up a finger while she tapped something into her phone.  Lore’s customer service smile grew strained while she waited. When she finally looked up, her scent soured before Lorel could offer a sample of berry crumble cake.

“Where’s Nora?” she demanded.

That was a question she’d heard far too many times, but this time the edge to it had her ocelot’s upper lip curling away from her teeth.

“My aunt’s currently on a beach enjoying her retirement.”  The mask wavered as Lorel fought against mirroring the sneer of her cat.

“Is there someone else who can help me?” she frowned.

Okay, that was a new one.

“Just me, I’m afraid,” shrugged Lorel.  “Is there a problem?”

“Don’t snap at me.”  Lorel swore that the other woman was two seconds away from clutching her pearls, if she’d worn any.  “I just want to know when someone else will be in to serve me.”

What in the name of all that was good and holy?

“Ma’am, I’m the owner,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Right,” she rolled her eyes, then muttered, “I just don’t know where this country is headed.  Animals like you taking jobs from good people.”

In an instant, her cat went from unamused disdain to homicidal rage.  Lorel throttled it back, but her eyes flashed yellow-green if the sudden ashen hue underneath the woman’s spray-on tan was any indication.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”  Lorel didn’t bother with the fake smile this time.

“How dare you!”  Her colour returned, going straight to red.  “I’m going to sue for intimidation.” Her shrill voice grew louder and louder until Lorel’s ears protested the abuse.  She stormed out, entering a code into her phone.

She released the breath she’d been holding only to inhale a lungful of perfume strong enough to make her eyes water.  Her ocelot wanted to hunt her down like a rabbit, but she convinced it that the meat was bad. She propped open the door to air out the store and the obnoxious woman stood in front of the yarn shop next door.  Still on the phone, she turned and the blood drained from her face when she saw Lorel.

“Oh my god, she’s following me!” she shrieked.  

Lorel rolled her eyes and decided she’d go put her irritation to good use by kneading dough for cinnamon buns.  As much fun as decorating cupcakes for a little girl’s birthday party was, that required a steady hand and hers were shaking with unexpressed anger.

The butcher’s block was barely floured when the sounds of sirens pierced her eardrums.  She dusted off her hands and returned to the front to find four cops standing there, each with a hand on a weapon.  Blinking, she froze mid-brush. I probably shouldn’t offer them doughnuts, she thought.

“Good afternoon, officers.  Would you like to try the berry crumble?”  She gestured to the silver tray with the samples and bit back a laugh at their bewildered expressions.  Evidently, they’d expected to find her frothing at the mouth from the way the blonde was still carrying on outside to a fifth cop.  They probably hadn’t anticipated a woman who more resembled a librarian than a murderous beast.

[elizabeth-davis-horse-thief]

Howling Mountains and Memories (Charles Smith x ELizabeth Davis [OFC])

Synopsis: In the aftermath fo the Black Water Massacre, the Van Der Linde Gang were forced to run into the snowy mountains. Eliza was immediately put off by the cold environment, but as night comes, old fears stop her from sleeping. Then Charles finally returns from his shift guarding the area, only to see Eliza was still awake and shaking. 

Authors Notes: This is set in Colter at the beginning of the game. Elizabeth Davis is my OC for this fandom. If you would like to read more about her, here's her character form: https://www.quotev.com/Darkshadow3942/journal/7063376/Red-Dead-Redemption-2-OC-Elizabeth-Davis

The cold is unforgiving. It can make the toughest of men shiver in their boots. On the side of the mountain, who knows what could be lurking out there. 

These were the insidious thoughts plaguing Eliza on her search for sleep. Tugging the sheet closer to her form, she was willing herself to stop shivering. But it wasn't just the cold taunting her. The smallest of noises caused Eliza to shoot up in her cot, her eyes the size of dinner plates. 

After having a moment to breathe, the female sighed in frustration. Her brows knitting together like she was trying to glare at herself. Too bad she didn't have a mirror to help in that endeavour. Somehow, she pulled the sheet tighter around her thin frame in another attempt the halt her shivering. It still didn't work. 

Trapped, cold and hungry, men are easy to tempt. They will be tempted towards the most heinous of acts, no matter how good they were in life. Nothing will stop the spirit's hunger and how it plays into the will to survive.

Eliza's eyes screwed tightly shut. It was her vain attempt to think of anything else, something more comforting. But her grandmother's story persisted. The sounds outside the cabin walls made it worse. It was like she was a child again, but not in a positive manner. Not the 'so young you feel free again' feeling, it was the knowledge of how small and helpless you genuinely are.

No longer men they stalk the mountainside with an insatiable hunger for the flesh of others—the Wendigo. You'll know if you see one, my little Liza, they're unmistakable. Its skin is pulled tight against the bones, long claws and sunken eyes of blackness. There's no humanity to be found.

Everyone around Eliza laid fast asleep, surprisingly. She was the only one awake. So the search for group comfort was futile. The female placed herself back against the cot. "You're not a child anymore, what's wrong with you" She muttered bitterly. Aiming a glare towards the ceiling, Eliza was commanding herself to go to sleep. The night would end quickly if she just got to sleep. 

It's more likely you will hear it before seeing it... The creature will use the voices of your loved ones to lure you closer. 

Her stubborn resolve was quickly shattered by something outside. Was it something scratching the walls? No... no, it wouldn't be. Eliza did her best to reason with herself. But the image of bloody claws dragging across the aged wood trumped all reasoning. Eliza's cot was set closer to the door of the cabin, making all too easy to hear something trudging through the snow, and it was getting closer. 

Sitting up, Eliza pressed her form against the wall, bringing her knees to her chest. Still wrapped in the sheet, she buried her face into her knees and silently prayed to be relieved of this fear. 

The sound of the door opening reached her ears, causing Eliza to curl in tighter. Her irrational reasoning just wanting it to end quickly if it was a wendigo. She didn't want to even catch a glimpse at the skeletal frame she was believed to be approaching. She did not want to see those claws, probably coated in the dried blood of previous victims and the same goes for the teeth.

Most of all, she did not want to look into those black, sunken eyes as it slashed opened her--

"Eliza?" Fingers tentatively grazed her shoulder. 

Eliza flinched, her head shooting up to look, despite her fears. In place of what she was expecting was... Charles. His hand drew back a little as she jumped. Eliza took this chance to look around the cabin again, taking in the details around her, finally releasing the breath she had been holding. 

"Eliza," Charles spoke again, drawing the female's attention back to him. "What's wrong?" He asked, his brows pulling together. It was a small change in his expression, but it portrayed a lot to Eliza. His hand gradually placed itself on her arm, his thumb stroking the small area the sheet is laid over. 

Shoulder slumping, Eliza shook her head, rapidly putting a smile on her face. "Nothin'. I can't sleep in the cold," She stated, gripping her sheet closer. Glancing down, she reached out for his injured hand, gently slipping her fingers under his palm to get a closer look. "How's your hand?" She asked, trailing her thumb lightly over her handiwork of bandaging. 

Charles didn't respond. Instead, his intact hand rose to her face, his thumb dragged across her forehead to feel she had been in a sweat. His brows lowered subtly, creating a stern expression. "Eliza. What happened?" He asked again. 

Her rust-coloured eyes briefly met his only to dart to the room's edge with a huff. Her bottom lip pushed forward to form a small pout. "I said it was nothing."

"It clearly wasn't, Doe."

"Nothing to worry yourself over."

Charles sighed, relocating to sit next to her. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her against his form. Feeling her rest in his embrace, he stroked her hair. Abruptly, Eliza jumped at the sound of more creaking across the cabin. She pressed herself closer to Charles and gripped his coat.

Charles also jumped but in reaction to Eliza's sudden movement. He blinked once, then twice as he gazed upon the frightened woman clinging to him. This... was his Eliza, right? He pondered. His arms assuming their original position around Eliza, he pressed his lips to her hair and rocked her gently. 

"I got you, My Doe." He whispered into her raven tresses, then he shifted to rest his chin on her head while she nuzzled into his neck. Eliza stilled as Charles rubbed his palms over her figure, hoping to help warm her up. 

They sat in that silence for a few seconds, Charles' hold on Eliza tightening whenever he felt her jerk at the small noises. "Would you like me to stay?" He whispered and was responded to with a nod. Charles slowly shifted to lean away from Eliza, just enough to let him removed his coat. 

Eliza laid down again, patiently waiting for her partner to join her. As he came to lay down, she threw the sheet over him as well, and he placed his coat on top. His arms circled around her waist, tugging her to relax against his chest. 

While snuggling up to Charles, Eliza glanced around the cabin again. This time with a calm mind. It merely was a frigid wooden cabin—nothing else. Eliza released a frustrated sigh that earned a raised eyebrow from Charles. Eliza made sheepish eye-contact only to look away, her cheeks puffing as she huffed. "It's stupid..." She told him.

When Charles' eyebrow only seem to rise higher, Eliza pouted. "My grandmother told me a story as a child, and it still scares me. It's ridiculous! I'm not a child anymore." She explained... while pouting... like a child. 

Charles, while amused at the irony, smiled gently at Eliza. Leaning forward to kiss her forehead, he then bumped her nose with his affectionately. "It is just a story, my dear." He stated. Promptly followed by a chuckle as Eliza continued to pout as well as narrowing her eyes at him. 

"I know." The female growled. 

"But," Charles started, meriting an elevated brow from Eliza. "Anything that scares you isn't stupid or ridiculous." He asserted, leaning down to nuzzle into her neck. Eliza's pout vanished, replaced with quiet giggling at the sensation of his scratchy stubble upon her skin.

Charles smiled, glad to hear the sound. He pressed a soft kiss to her neck, then he reassured her "I'm here to warm your cold nights and to make sure you're not alone. You're safe, Eliza."

Eliza's fingers found their way to his hair, threading through his dark locks. "Thank you, Charles." She whispered, mindlessly playing with his tresses. Charles responded when he pulled back from her neck to press a kiss to her lips. 

Beaming at one another, Eliza then cuddled back into her companion's chest. Finally settling in and feeling the weight of her fatigue approaching her, Eliza's eyes fluttered closed. But a smile remained on her features as she cherished her grandmother's words.

But you'll never see such an evil thing, Little Liza. You're safe in the arms of those who love you. You always will be. Now, it's time for bed. Close your eyes and rest.

...

...

...

"Charles?" 

"Hmm?"

"Don't speak a word of this to anyone. Alright?" 

He chuckled, "Not a word." He promised. "Now get some rest," 

[gunnerpalace]

I belonged to another heated (but no longer debatable imho) ship were I've known a lot to be IH. And ofc I feel bad they have to bear witness to people so salty about the ending and hated Ino. I hate Ino too with burning passion, and that kinda made me feel guilty. But the psychology major in me was baffled as to how they conclude immediately w/ no analysis she was hated not only because of ships but because either she was written terribly, or she was written to be terrible. Or probably both.

Why cant Ichigo and Rukia be married to someone we could *infer* (because duh it’s not canon they will argue) they are in love with? Someone they have shown to share bond with? “Oh well, its becoming commonplace that the hero doesnt end up w/ main heroine, it’s revolutionary!” Bullshit. Sadly that is logic fallacy you dumbasses. Where’s the progress? Kubo tried, barely even. And again, it’s not even about the ships, its the entire work that has become an anomaly–Bleach as became Bleauuughch.

Again, I feel bad they have to bear the weight of evert criticism, the insult, and the salt of basically a majority of bleach fandom. But I hope they can tell that majority (like 99.99999999998%) of the criticisms are valid and not just hate. If they couldnt bear to actual do analysis of why people hated it, then dont bother plead or guilt trip or go to ppl inboxes why should we just move on. Well, majority already did that’s why all was left were ppl who couldnt be bothered with actual quality.

Here’s the ugly truth about people: they can’t read.

Or they don’t want to.

We have this holdover idea from the Enlightenment that if you can gather enough evidence in fine and exacting enough detail, that you can not only discern some kind of truth, but convince other people of it through the preponderance of evidence. And we have structured our society around that idea, from politics to law to science to academia in general.

The trouble is that that idea is bullshit outside of academia.

That is not at all how regular people approach the world.

And the more we rely upon an idea that people are rational, the more we will be lost at and disappointed by the actuality that people are irrational and emotional.

Consider climate change. The scientific community has had roughly 97% consensus that climate change is being anthropomorphically driven (that is to say, somewhere between overwhelmingly and entirely caused by human activity) since at least the very early 2000s, if not back much earlier. Indeed, we know that the oil companies were aware of it at least as early as 1981! And here we are in 2020, with some 31% of the population either unsure of or disbelieving in it.

Whenever the matter is debated politically, scientists will trot out their facts and drop them on the table and point. The facts are self-evident, they feel. And then the conservative politicians will shrug and say, “I don’t believe you.”

And the scientists have no idea what to do about that. Because to their minds, facts are indisputable. You cannot argue with them.

But you can, as the conservatives illustrate. You just choose not to believe in them.

We are witnessing something very similar with COVID-19 at the moment, with large swathes of the (American) population simply not believing it to be a threat, in spite of all available evidence to the contrary.

We see the same thing with political leadership debating the question of whether to prioritize health or economics, and our media treating this as if it is a legitimate policy debate, when we already know the answer to that question from the Spanish Flu of 1918: towns and cities that were locked down and quarantined suffered fewer casualties and had much faster economic rebounds.

People generally do not read.

People generally do not process.

People generally do not analyze.

People generally do not learn.

And if they can’t do those things for very large-scale existential threats that can threaten anything from tens to hundreds of millions of people worldwide, to the entire ecosphere of the planet, why would one expect them do so for a piece of fiction?

If people cannot handle cold, hard statistical facts, or simple arithmetic, then they certainly cannot handle something as “subjective” as facial expressions or dialogue. I have written recently about how the attitude toward non-fandom things (e.g., politics) increasingly resembles that of fandom, of approaching everything as though it is merely an aesthetic exercise.

That is really what we are dealing with here: ignorance. And not merely ordinary ignorance, not even willful ignorance, but an ignorance so deliberate and cultivated that its goal is nothing less than the total erasure of the facts. (The problem here, in this particular example, are of course the people who say unequivocally, “Ichigo always loved Orihime,” in spite of all evidence to the contrary. Someone who says, “It is clear to me this wasn’t a thing, but I like IH aesthetically,” is a non-issue.)

(Demanding or trying to force this former perspective does, as you suggest in the third ask, indicate a certain insecurity and a tacit admission that the perspective being advanced is illegitimate or poorly substantiated. However, for the people so enthralled to openly admit that is a psychological admission of defeat so severe that most would literally rather die than own up to being wrong to such an extent, and to suffer the attendant internal loss of face. So they seek continual external validation of it to shore it up.)

There is, in essence, no point in communicating with this kind of fan whatsoever. They are functionally like how Kyle Resse describes the Terminator in The Terminator:

Listen, and understand! That Terminator is out there. It can’t be bargained with. It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear! And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead!

There is a lot of tepid discussion out there in political circles that the degree of polarization in society today is unprecedented and that a way to bridge that gap could be through shared interests and values. But in my opinion, fandom proves exactly the opposite is true: the reasons people like things that are nominally “shared interests,” and their view of those things and why they are good, are completely and utterly irreconcilable. There is, essentially, virtually zero overlap in a Venn diagram of the perspectives. Shared interests divide as much as they will ever unite.

In that regard, Bleach should be treated as both a warning and a grim assessment of our world as a whole. It is not really an aberration.

It is the future.

This community (among others) has simply been living in it a few years in advance of other people. Everyone else has gotten their first big taste of it with Trump. (The Republicans have been constructing an alternate reality since 1964, but comparatively few people were aware of how deep the rabbit hole went.)

In my estimation, it is not worth engaging with people over a shared interest with sincerity, let alone in good faith, unless you have done some degree of vetting of their perspective. Most likely observing them or their works for a time. Without that, you simply open yourself up to these people who show a total lack of discernment or rationality.

And that is a large part of why social media is such an absolute garbage fire, because as platforms they are built around precisely the opposite notion. (And largely in defiance of the idea that people might want to curate their experiences or might not want to have “healthy debate,” which is almost never healthy and seldom ever debate). Some would argue this leads to echo chambers and hug boxes, but it’s not like the alternative that these companies have produced (for profit, of course, rather than for of any ideological mission) is any better.

To boil it all down, what we are really forced to rely on (quite sadly) is a free market approach: no matter how much that side rages and waves their “canon” status around, they simply do not produce much content. They will starve long before our side does, regardless of any other factors. (Their “canon” status did not help them any in the past four years.) And the people who are agnostic (e.g., the “I’m Still Bleach” crowd that is for some reason vaguely invested in the series as a whole) will lose interest and move on to the next shiny thing.

The only thing that is necessary in the face of all this is really patience. In the meantime, the best thing is simply to ignore the existence of such parties utterly.

[sleeeeepytea]

10 for 10 for 10

you answer 10 questions, make a further 10 questions & tag 10 people!! you don't have to do it ofc but it's fun :>

i was tagged by the precious @depressomocha !! (i didnt wanna reblog bc it was long :'0 )

favourite time of day; !! i dont know if this counts but bc i prefer nighttime i love 12-3 am like its... so magical. but if i had to pick a time of day, it would prolly be 5 am!! that fresh morning smell & feel is amazing,, not that i'd ever wake up that early :'>

favourite character? why? god okay its hard to choose between my two main faves atm but... dorothea will always be my no. 1!! she's not only gorgeous but her insecurities & backstory get to me. she just wants unconditional love n acceptance n stability,, but thinks no one will love her beyond her voice n looks,, but she's precious!! she's funny n has a witty tongue n literally takes no shit. like a really cool older sister for the beagles!! she deserves so much more love tbh

favourite book genre; poetry!! classics!! mystery is also good, but i def prefer classical literature :'>

if you were an animal, what would you be? i'd like to think I'd be a bird of some kind...i've been called an owl a few times by ppl bc of how "wise" i can be (also bc im nocturnal) but?? i have too many different personalities to actually pinpoint one bird ngl. but if i were able to choose, i'd love to be a fairy wren!! they're my fave birds ♡

favourite drinks; green tea, anything that has any of the citrus flavours in it & lemon lime & bitters!

what do you like to do in your free time? obvs play vidya games lmao but!! i also love to write, cross stitch, read & crochet.

what game do you like to play when you're bored? probably either cytus or animal crossing,, both are rlly nice and probably the easiest to access lmao

any life motto? uhhhh not really? i've never rlly thought about it ngl ;;

if a genie offered you all the luxury in the world but your loved one would be gone, would you accept it? nope!!! i wouldn't even think of accepting it tbh. i'd rather have my loved ones and no luxury whatsoever than the other way around.

would you live 1000 years in your 25 old body if given the chance? hmm,, i think i would, if only to see what happens within that 1000 year time span. i dunno what i'll be like when i'm 25 but hopefully i'll be a functioning human being!

okkie dokes! my questions now -

1; what's your favourite kind of aesthetic?

2; do you have an irrational fear? if so, what of?

3; who's your favourite animal crossing villager? (if you don't know animal crossing, just share your fave animal/s)

4; how long has it been since you've received a gift?

5; what colour would you describe yourself as?

6; do you have plans for the future or do you prefer to let things just play out?

7; favourite crystal/gemstone?

8; what's one book/poem/line that has stuck with you/made an impact on you?

9; do you have any piercings? if so, where? if not, do you want any?

10; how many gaming consoles do you have?

time to tag!!

@miss-laney @angesirene @ginger-tea-spoon @thedragonlover @fr4ctalized @megami-power-up @soft-femagines @stag-of-almyra @nerdycreatorclamzipper @tod-fox & anyone who wants to do it ♡♡