#I don't think I realized my ME posts had gotten that many notes

[mvctavish]

𝐑𝐄𝐃-𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃

pairing: john price x medic!reader

notes: ok i know i said i won't be able to post until later in the week but this came to me in a dream and i must share my suffering. i will get to most of the requests this week!! there's a lot more than i originally thought i'd get so it may be a little while

summary: you were one of the best medics in the game. you never lost a soldier you worked on, so what happens when you can't handle the first death on your hands? price tries his best to be there in the moment to guide you — you're a valued member of his team, and he'd be damned if he let the grief suffocate you.

cw: f!medic!reader, blood n gore (general war stuff idk), minor character death (not price or reader), grief, probably medical inaccuracies, hints of pining (from price), some other heavy themes, NOT proofread cause i don't have time i'm sorry! wc: 1.2k

JOHN PRICE had known you for years. You were a capable soldier, and an even better combat medic. Your record was clean. Recruiting you into Task Force 141 had been a very easy and quick decision when it was first formed, and you'd been part of the team ever since. It definitely didn't have anything to do with the fact that the Captain fancied you.

Many new sides of you were revealed to Price now that he was your commanding officer — all of them valuable in their own right. You weren't one to let yourself be pushed around. You had a backbone, and a strong attitude. You weren't afraid to speak your mind — especially when it came to the health and safety of your boys. It was admirable, really. You were practically a mama bear, protective yet soft when needed, truly caring for your teammates and any other soldiers. You always completed objectives to a T, going above and beyond.

But the sight of you now was staggering.

Erratic, panicked, and - for lack of better words - unhinged were the best way to describe you. Your shaking, blood-soaked fingers pressed down hard against slick skin, your breaths panting like a rabid animal. Your gloves had been discarded, and various random supplies has split from your bag when you'd unzipped it to grab the necessities.

It was supposed to be a simple cleaning house mission. Nothing out of the ordinary, but a private had gotten caught in a nasty crossfire — and the result was a bullet skimming the carotid artery in his neck. Even in a proper hospital, a wound like that has a high mortality rate. It's useless, you know, but you've never lost a soldier before. He is not going to be the first.You'd dragged his limp body by the vest and down a hall into cover, immediately dropping to your knees to get to work.

There was blood, so much blood. The copper stench burned your nostrils, causing your hands to grow slippery as you desperately tried to put enough pressure onto the bullet wound to slow the bleeding. Red continued to pour forth, slipping through the cracks in your fingers. “Fuck!” You cursed, chest heaving with your labored breathing. “Come on, goddamn it!” Your voice cracked, one bloody hand gently cupping the soldier's jaw. Your fingers left splotchy marks on his pallid skin, red staining practically everything. “Stay with me, yeah? ‘M gonna fix this. ‘M gonna fix this. It's okay.” Your voice was shaking, and you hadn't even realized the tears that stained the apples of your heated cheeks until the salty tang hit your tongue.

It felt like an eternity, pressing gauze down against the wound, squeezing, doing anything you could think of in your adrenaline high. Fingers trembled, fumbling with the now pink-tinted gauze, the fabric barely stable in your grasp. The raspy, pained breathing of the private had long since halted, but the blood rushing in your ears rendered you deaf to the outside world. A panicked cry escaped you as you shifted on your knees, both hands still pressing against the wound. Tears flow down your cheeks and you choke- a strong hand grips one of your wrists, trying to pry it away. You're insistent, struggling against him as he crouched beside you.

“Let ‘em go, love.” The gravelly voice is familiar, though riddled with seriousness and firmness. He knew this was going to take a while, which was why he'd let Simon take charge, but nothing could've prepared him for the state you're in now. “He's gone.”

“No, no, no!” You sobbed uncontrollably, and it frightens Price. This was unlike the woman he knew - the one he'd fallen for - once level-headed and strong. You're crumbling. It's then that Price firmly grips both of your wrists, using the leverage to yank your entire being away from the body. The air is knocked out of you as you're jerked backwards against the solid plate of Price's armor, falling against his strong form and staying limp.

Price's heart lurches at the sight of you, hands and sleeves stained with blood — not to mention the fingerprints painted across your forehead and jaw, no doubt from you trying to brush your hair out of your face. “You're okay,” Price's voice is still firm, trying to ground you as one of his arms wrap around your back, the other cradling your head. Your body is practically draped across his legs, form shaking with the intensity of your emotions.

"He was just a kid!” You cried out, voice hoarse.

“I know,” Price replied, hand slipping from the back of your helmet to rest on the nape of your neck, fingers gently massaging the skin there in hopes of offering a semblance of comfort. “I'm sorry. You did your best, that's all that matters.”

You sob again, and he tightens his hold around you. The hand on the back of your neck stills and he gently pulls you back to sit you up. Price's gloved hands are quick to cradle your face, forcing your eyes to remain on him and not the lifeless corpse just a meter behind you. His thumbs swipe across your cheeks, collecting crystalline tears and thick blood. “Breathe with me.” His chest rises with a deep inhale through the nose. He holds. Then, releases through his mouth. Price repeated the boxing breaths as long as it took, his fingers gently digging little indents into your cheeks, hoping that the gentle pressure will help pull you back to reality and ground you.

“C'mon, you can do it, love. Yeah, there you go.” A faint smile crosses Price's features when you finally manage to match his breaths, skin crinkling around his eyes. “Good girl.”

The flight back to base is silent between you and Price. The whirling blades of the helo were barely audible with your headset on, muffling the noises around you. It's time like this, when things are quiet and still, that your thoughts get the best of you again. You were not good enough. You are not good enough. If you'd been quicker, thought smarter, and didn't let your panic get the best of you, then maybe-

You're nudged gently, ripped from your doubts, and you look to your left to see Price gazing down at you. There's visible worry in his azure eyes. Words don't need to be passed for the captain to know you're at a breaking point. One of your knees is bouncing, and the grip you have on your seat belt is strong and firm, tension lingering in your body. Price clenched his jaw, catching onto the look you yourself wore. He reached for your hand with his left, glove rubbing against glove as you took hold, his steady grip encasing your own. You look to the flooring of the helicopter, brows furrowing as a tightness in your chest explodes. Your head moved quickly, burying your face against your captain's shoulder. Price freezes, caught off-guard, though he recovers in mere seconds. His free hand wrapped around his front, palm coming to rest over the side of your face to shield you from the prying eyes of the others in the helo.

He knows this ordeal is weighing on you, and the mental burdens you carried outweighed any injuries you could've sustained. Healing will take time, but you won't be alone.

[korppuhiiri]

woke up to suddenly having like 100+ notes on my main tumblr overnight bc a recent mutual of mine had reblogged a bunch of art of my sona that then started making rounds and i'm just like

[exhuastedpigeon]

I was tagged by @butchdiaz to do a 2024 fic roundup! In 2024 I posted 29 fics for a total of 201,143 words, which is the most I've ever posted to Ao3 in a single year (that that doesn't count the 75k wip I have in the works right now or the other 40k of wips I have, don't look at me). In 2024 I also posted my favourite fic I've ever written and posted a fic every month.

January

one is one too many, one more is never enough (2.2k | teen) Hangovers, drunken love confessions, getting together

They say hangovers get worse as you get older. Buck never believed that until his first hangover in his thirties hit him like a fucking freight train. He’d spent the entire day moving between the couch and the bathroom throwing up and had vowed to never get that drunk again.

every road and every highway led me right back to your door (Teen) Accidental baby acquisition, magic!Stiles

Derek would like it noted that he had been in way worse situations before. He would like that on the official record. His current predicament honestly doesn’t even make the top five worst situations he’s ever been in. It might not even make the top ten.

if you keep reachin' out (then I'll keep comin' back) (2k | teen) Rescue, minor injury, hurt!Eddie

“Don’t make me jealous,” Buck said, leaning in close and tugging at Eddie’s clips like he hadn’t already tested them three times.

“I would never,” Eddie winked, relishing the way Buck blushed. It probably wasn’t the best idea to flirt with Buck before a rescue but Eddie couldn’t help himself. He’d been struggling with keeping his feelings for Buck locked down for months now, maybe even longer if he was honest with himself. 

We don't even have to try, it's always a good time (2.2k | Explicit) Established relationship, closet sex

“Can I help you?” Eddie asked, fighting back a smile because Buck looked a little bit like he’d just swallowed a lemon. He was pretty sure Buck wasn’t in here to touch his dick, not with that look on his face.

February 

there ain't no turning back (28.3k | Explicit) Road trips, mutual pining, sharing a bed, future fic

Eddie let out a yelp when he finally took in the room. It was a two queen room, white blankets, a TV, a desk and chair near the window, nothing about the furniture was strange, except for the fact that Buck was lounging on the bed closest to the windows, his legs crossed at the ankles, feet clad in MIT socks that he’d gotten for himself the day Chris sent his application in because Buck was that confident he’d get in.

March

lay your cards down, down, down (6.3k | Mature) Bachelor party, woke up married, friends to husbands

At that moment a few things happened at once that all felt equality important. Buck noticed a black ring on Eddie’s ring finger. Buck felt Eddie’s hard cock pressed against his hip. And Buck saw a matching black ring on his own ring finger. Maybe it was silly to put Eddie’s hard cock at the same level as what looked a lot like wedding rings, but it felt just as important as the other two observations.

Baby, take me (4.4k | Explicit) Fluff and smut, bachelor party, love confessions

“Pretty sure I turned it off just fine last night,” Eddie said with a smirk that went straight to Buck’s cock, already half hard just from the way Eddie’s stubble is dragging across his skin. “Is that how I get you to stop thinking?”

I want to be your fantasy (maybe you could be mine) (7.2k | Explicit) Bachelor party, pole dancing, former stripper Eddie

“I’m going to be really good at this class,” Eddie said, his voice low. “Because one of my jobs before moving to L.A. was stripping. You’re the first person who didn’t work at the club or go to the club to know that and I’d prefer if it stayed that way.”

April

ain't no lie (bi bi bi) (8.6k | explicit) Eddie/Tommy, friends with benefits, jealous!Buck, pre-relationship Buddie

Eddie fools around with Tommy, Buck is jealous, Tommy's just trying to have a good time

kiss him once for me (935 words | gen) Feelings realization, pining, pre-relationship Buddie

Nothing changed between them. Or at least, nothing changed until he sees Buck and Tommy kiss.

give your heart and soul to charity (12.5k | teen) Character study, Catholic guilt, coming out, getting together

Eddie dumps God, gets some more therapy, accepts parts of himself he was taught to hate, loves his best friend, and loves himself.

wipe your mouth when you done (4.1k | Mature) Hockey AU, hockey fights, injury recovery

Buck would like it on record that he didn’t go looking for the video of Eddie’s fight with Jonah Greenway because he didn’t even know Eddie had gotten in a fight with Jonah Greenway. Ravi sent the video into the group chat with the comment that “Fans are weirdly horny over fights” and no other context.

May

keep on whispering in my ear (2.1k | explicit) Drunk hookups, infidelity, pre-relationship buddie

Eddie and Buck get extremely drunk at Chim's bachelor party and hook up

June

I'll Show You Magic (7k | explicit) Alternate universe - magic, witch!Eddie, Witch!Buck, different first meeting

"Who the hell are you?" Buck asks before his brain to mouth filter is fully online.

"Eddie," The guy - Eddie - says with an amused little smile pulling at his mouth. "I'm guessing you're Buck. Lucy said you’d be coming in and that you don't have much of a filter."

July

so far away but still so near (6.2k | Teen) Eddie & Lucy & Ravi friendship, personal growth, coming out

In which Eddie Diaz learns who he is outside of being a father, builds some new friendships, and loves his best friend

loves a game, wanna play? (57.5k | Mature) Love Island AU, Post S7, the silliest thing I've ever written

In the aftermath of Chris leaving for the summer, Buck convinces Eddie they should apply for Love Island together.

August

baby, get me off again (2.4k | Explicit) Lutalia, casual sex, praise kink, semi-public sex

“Natalia Dollenmeyer.”

“I remember,” Lucy turned in her seat so she was facing Natalia. “At the risk of sounding like a bad pickup artist, what’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a bar like this.”

from the ashes (5.6k | teen) Art as therapy, Eddie fic, getting together, self discovery

A call at an art studio inspires Eddie to take an art class, it turns out he kind of loves it.

 September

 I can fix that (4.2k | Mature) Flirting, teasing, pining, Eddie's moustache, home improvement

“What’s what?” Eddie asked, but the smile tugging at his mouth, the smile that was just slightly obscured by the hottest mustache Buck had ever fucking seen, told Buck Eddie knew exactly what he was talking about.

how to slay a dragon (2k | gen) Uncle Eddie, babysitting, Jee-Yun, playing make believe

Buck didn't know what to expect when he walked into the Han house. He definitely hadn’t expected to see Eddie sitting on the floor with Jee in front of him carefully french braiding her hair. He also hadn’t expected Eddie to be wearing a pink sparkly tiara. He definitely hadn’t expected Eddie to smile up at Buck when he saw him with soft eyes, eyes that didn’t feel like looking into an ocean of sadness, and carefully tie the end of one of the braids he was working on with a little bow.

The Pink Fairy (2.6k | teen) Magic!Stiles, mystery, banter

“Derek Hale, as I live and breathe,” Stiles grinned at him, leaning his elbows on the bar so he could get closer to Derek. It wasn’t loud, not yet. Not at 4pm, but Stiles had never really figured out how to stay out of Derek’s personal space. Apparently, years of distance between them hadn’t magically solved that for him.

the cat's meow (4.2k | explicit) Cats, love confessions, hand jobs

Eddie adopts a cat and let's himself have good things.

October

Gimme S'more (1.8k | Teen) Fluff, s'mores, flirting

“Damn, you’re right,” Buck’s laugh was bright. He’s been brighter in the last month, since Bobby finally got the captain's seat back and since Chris came home. Since basically everything that was royally fucking their lives up and the team’s lives finally ended.

Sweet as Pumpkin Pie (2.3k | Gen) Uncle Eddie, Uncle Buck, pumpkin patches, Jee-Yun, fluff

“That’s pretty cool,” Eddie said and Jee nodded at both of them, her hair already coming out of the little pigtails that Maddie had put it in when they picked her up. “How many pumpkins do you think it took to build it?”

“A billion!” Jee yelled, running through the pumpkin house with a giggle.

A-maze-ing (2.7k | Teen) Corn maze, fluff, autumn

“Would you want t-to go with me? To the haunted pumpkin patch?” Buck asked, sounding way too nervous for asking Eddie to go to a pumpkin patch. Unless - Unless.

Unless Buck wasn’t just asking him to go to a pumpkin patch. Unless Buck was asking Eddie on a date to the pumpkin patch. Eddie felt something warm and fizzy bubbling in his chest. He kind of felt like he might bubble up and float away, so filled with joy at the prospect of Buck asking him out. Of Buck wanting him that way. 

all dressed up (with somewhere to go) (3.4k | Teen) Mistaken Identity, getting together, making out, fluff and humor

“Hey,” Buck grinned when he reached Spider-man, grabbing him by the wrist to turn him around. He peeled the mask up just enough to kiss him. That was weird too, he’d never had to lean down to kiss Tommy before, even if it was only by an inch. Maybe the boots Buck was wearing had a bigger sole than he’d realized.

The kiss didn’t feel like Tommy either, his lips were softer and fuller than usual, but Buck chalked that up to the tequila. It was a good kiss though, that was the thing. It was a great kiss. He didn’t want to stop kissing him and actually, he didn’t have to. Buck wrapped his arms around him and deepened the kiss, groaning just a little when he felt Tommy wrap his arms around Buck too.

“Evan?”

November

please don't go (646 words | Gen) 8x08 Coda, inspired by fanart, pining

"Don't go."

The words are trapped in a cage at the back of Buck's throat. Every time he's opened his mouth in the last week he's had to speak around them. He feels like a tiger pacing his enclosure, like he's going to snap at the bars if anyone gets too close.

December

I should be pushing daisies (5.5k | Teen) Character study, light angst, love confessions, happy ending, extend metaphors

“I miss you so much, man,” Eddie says as easy as anything. Like those words don’t have the power to breathe life back into Buck’s body and steal that breath back at the same time. “It’s dumb but - I guess I didn’t realize how ingrained you are in my life until suddenly you weren’t there.”

“I-I miss you too,” Buck manages to say, though he has no idea if he sounds normal or if he sounds like there’s an anvil on his chest.

I took a little journey to the unknown (4.1k | Teen) Hurt Eddie, dreams, medical inaccuracies, holding hands, love confessions

Eddie groans, his tongue feels too big for his mouth and his thoughts are moving slowly, like they’re trying to wade through pudding and getting stuck on the way to his mouth.

“I-it’s okay, you don’t have to talk,” Buck says and the comforting warmth is back on Eddie’s hand. The only thought that rings clearly through his head is that Buck’s hand is safe. Buck is going to keep him safe. “Just - can you squeeze my hand if you’re awake?”

That feels nearly impossible, his body feels like lead, heavy and useless, but for Buck he can try. He focuses and squeezes as tightly as he can - it’s not very tight, but that doesn’t seem to matter when Buck lets out a long breath and then a choked sob.

no pressure tagging @inell @rosieposiepuddingnpie @queerdiazs @thekristen999 @glorious-spoon

@jeeyuns @vanmarkus @actualalligator @elvensorceress @sibylsleaves

@rainbow-nerdss @organizedstardust @spotsandsocks @shitouttabuck @generatorkitty

@hawkbutt @jesuisici33 @cal-daisies-and-briars @bekkachaos @cranberrymoons @diazsdimples

@devirnis @daffi-990 @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @honestlydarkprincess

@lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @dangerpronebuddie

[newfallstrangeleaves]

Yandere in the apocalypse

Strawberries

M!Yandere X GN!reader Warning: stalking, mentions of killing. Summary: Continuation of the nightly visit story. The world has ended but that doesn't stop your yandere to prove (to nobody other than himself) that he can give you anything. He goes out of his way to get you something you want but things don't go as planned. Author's note: It was really nice to see the first part (and my first post) being so well received. Really thank you!!

Never will he be far behind. Always in the shadows watching over you. He truly is your guardian angel, undefeated protector, perfect boyfriend…

Though in a perfect world he would be close to you, show you how good he is to you.  But because of the friends of yours most of the time Aaron has to go unnoticed. But the times he does get close, he cherishes. 

The weather is nice and Aaron has spent the last 4 hours in a tree. Your group has made the decision to leave the city and head out into the wild. A decision he doesn't exactly agree with, for many reasons. Though your group has decided upon two night watchers now he dont believe for a second they could do a better job than him. 

Half of the group has split up from camp and gone out to look for food. You sit together with a girl with dark braids and a blond girl, who looks to be in need of a shower soon. The boy is there too, blissfully unaware of his surroundings and listening in on the conversation. 

“I LOVED to eat Moules frits, I could eat a whole bucket of those things.” The blond girl says. 

"Oh, you snob!” The braided girl exclaims. “Can you say something normal like a burger?” 

“But what is so weird about Moules frits? It's just Oysters and Fries! The blond pouts. 

“Wrong! It's Clams not Oysters, you idiot.” 

"You seem to know an awful lot about Moles frits, huh? Y/N, who do you think the real posh one is?” The blond looks over at you who throughout this whole conversation has just been smiling at the bickering. 

“Donno, seems like a tie, or what do you think Max?” You turn over to the boy who nods eagerly. You and Max exchange a look as the blond one rolls her eyes over dramatically, but the action prones a laugh out of the three of you. 

“What foods do you miss, Y/N?” Max asks when the laughing has died down. You think for a moment. 

“Well, not the canned potatoes that's for sure, or any other canned foods for that matter. I miss fresh ones, oh I know, I miss Strawberries!” You say. “And actually at this point I would be happy to have any shape, dried or fresh doesn't matter.” 

“Me too.” A voice from the bushes makes everyone jump.

Even Aaron is about to fall out of the tree. But when the other half of the group returns he swears over himself over the lack of awareness. But the conversation had made him think. If his love wants strawberries then she shall have strawberries. 

When night comes he sneaks down from his hideout. A week ago they passed a small community, odd people and overly religious. They had only really gotten a picture of them though three men who were out looking for a friend of theirs. The men had invited them back to their community but luckily your group had declined the offer. Good thing your group had caught their off vibes too and decided not to risk it. But when the both of your groups had parted ways and one of the men decided to turn back to you,  Aaron felt nothing good would come with a second encounter. So the man was killed and buried before sunrise. By then the group was up and away. 

But the men at the time had mentioned a garden filled with vegetables and fruits. Perhaps a tactic to lure you into their claws. But right now it's his best bet in finding Strawberries. 

Traveling alone ment moving at a much quicker pace. Perhaps he will be back to you in less than a week!

When he arrives he realizes the men weren't lying. If something they were playing it down by a lot.  Aaron could see “the garden” from a mile away by the size of it. The only problem he is facing now is getting in. It is surrounded by a huge fence, barbed wires, then on top of that they have built six hunting towers to guard from any intruders. 

He decides to wait until night time and while doing so he can feel his eyes grow heavier.

He wakes up (all stiff from sleeping in a tree) to the luck of a lifetime. Rockets are firing from the other side of the garden, somebody else is planning to break in too. He brings his handy pocket knife and while the guard's attention is elsewhere he takes the opportunity to run straight for one of the hunting towers. 

He just needs a little bit of luck to not be spotted now. Despite having two hunting towers at each side of him that could easily spot him he hopes their attention stays on the forest for intruders. 

The darkness hides him long enough to cut through the fence. His pocket knife pliers are weak, it takes time to cut through the fence. But not impossible. 

As he works up a hole big enough for him to fit through he can hear the guards discussing, the weak attack was quickly disarmed. But Aaron can sense them being on edge for anything else to happen. 

When he is through it's in and out. Their attention is not on the plantation but he still tries to hide amongst the greenery. It doesn't take long before he finds the red little berries. There are rows upon rows of them. They won't miss a few. When he is done collecting and placing the container back in his backpack, he turns to make his way out again. 

Just as he feels confident he is going to make it without getting spotted he gets just that. Spotted. He crawls through his hole as bullets start raining around him. His only option is to run and find shelter amongst the trees. He sprints as fast as he can, the trees approaching quickly. Just a few more steps. 

Then he feels one of the bullets hitting its target, a sharp pain shoots through his thigh. He lets out a cry of pain but with the adrenaline pumping his veins he doesn't stop. 

He pushes further and further through the forest even though he is not as fast as he would have liked, the people deciding to go after him seems to have given up the chase. Their voices grow more and more distant by the second. 

The following days are hard. He has to stop multiple times to not strain his wound too much. Worry starts to grow more and more each day. As he is slowing down you are walking further and further away. The fear something would have happened to you  while he was away grows stronger by the day. 

When the pain in his leg is unbearable as he is fighting to keep up a good pace he wishes he never left you. What if something has happened to you while he was gone? Why didn't he consider this before he left? How stupid he feels. 

He lets out a sigh of relief when he reaches a small lake and in the distance he can see your figure walking out in the water with your pants rolled up. So peaceful. Finally he can allow himself to rest and to heal. 

Mission accomplished too. He feels pride grow in his chest as he watches you. He can give you something nobody else can. He can't wait for your reaction. A smile only he could give you.

The next morning you wake up and the first thing you see is a small package with a note attached to it. 

“Whatcha got there?” Ginny asks as she frantically tries to brush through her blond curls with her fingers. 

“I don't know. Was here when I woke up.” You turn over the note and read what it says out loud. 

‘Got these for you. 

Until we meet, A.’

“A? There is no one here who starts with A.” Ginny says loudly. A ruckus begins amongst the ones that are awake. Their discussion is loud enough to wake up the rest.  

“What do I do with these?” You ask. 

“Leave them, it's not worth the risk.” Felice says and pulls her braids out from the shirt she just put on. “Come, you go with me from now on.” 

Aaron limps over to the spot you sat at as he is fighting tears. The anger and disappointment bubbling up in his chest. He wishes he could kill them, hurt them as they have hurt him. 

But all he does is pick up the berries. 

He knows revenge will come in due time.

[narcoleptika]

Dance with me.

Daryl Dixon x Reader -Fluff

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You hum to a song you've heard many times while sewing a hole up in Daryl's jeans, the sound of rain lightly thumping on the outside of your house giving the moment that extra bit of comfort. You hear shuffling coming from the bedroom and softly smile to yourself, wishing you could see that face he makes when he wakes up and locks eyes with you. You hear the creak of the door then a yawn, “You up already?” You nod and smile, “I was going to do my yard work but..” you gesture to the rainy window, “Thought I'd save it for later. When I won't get covered in rain and mud. I decided to patch up your jeans for now.” He lightly huffs. You giggle, “What?” He walks behind you and loosely wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“You don't gotta do that for me.” You shrug, “I want to, and with how you usually come back from runs they could use the extra support before they get totally ruined..” he doesn't really respond, he just gently squeezed you, then buries his face in your neck, you slightly tilt your head so he has more room, and you run your fingers through his hair. “You know what, I don't think I've ever seen you dance.” He lifts his head slightly, “What?” You hum softly, “The music reminds me of old timey couples dancing, then I realized I don't think I've ever seen you dance.” He loosens his hold on you. “Y’wanna see me dance?” you nod, finished sewing up the hole. “I’d like that, so..will you dance with me?” He starts to protest but when he sees your hopeful smile he can't refuse.

“Alright. Sure.” You excitedly kiss him and stand up holding out your hands. “Full disclosure..I don't know how to dance.” He chuckles, “Nah, I don't either.” The two of you laugh and give it a go, while it's clumsy and you step on him twice, eventually you get down what resembles a peaceful dance. He holds you close, his hands comfortably resting on your waist, and your arms loosely wrapped around his neck as you sway side to side. “Now all I need to see next is you dancing to something not classical..like pop or something!” He huffs, “Nah, no way.” You burst out laughing and he kisses you sweetly, pulling back slightly, your foreheads together, eyes locked together.

“I love you.” He says softly, you never will get over how sweet those words sound coming from a by all appearances, a rugged guy like him. Though you never really saw him the way some people usually did. “I love you too, thank you for dancing with me..” you hold him tightly and hold his hands. “But seriously, I need to see you dance to something like hip hop.” You whisper, he kisses your forehead, “Still, nah.” you sigh, “Worth a try.~” You two sit at the table and start discussing the day's plans as the rain starts to slow.

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Writer's notes: I am so sorry I dropped off the face of the earth for like over a month or something, Trapped pt. 2 is being written right now, I hope this short sweetness is enough to hold y'all over till later today! I will be posting a lot more as I have gotten my mood and motivation back up. Thank you for reading, have a good day or night. I hope you all had happy holidays. :)

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Some Much-Needed Downtime TBH

ok I kinda read these species-swap chapters quickly without commenting 2 nights ago bc I REALLY wanted to catch up to the show, and honestly I didn't have much to say? It was a fun showcase of some different species talents, and introduced multiple fun problems for the characters to solve [takes notes in DM]. But it didn't seem to move either plot or characters forward much. Some notes:

Honestly it's surprising that there's only been 1 count of food poisoning so far, when they're trying SO MANY new things. One must credit Senshi's cooking skills!

This might be the single funniest joke so far:

I've seen multiple posts saying Senshi's elfsona reveals him to be feminine by dwarf standards, and I'm genuinely BAFFLED by that take because it is SO obvious that Senshi's elfsona reveals him to be 1. the Hottest Man You Have Ever Met, and 2. HAIRY. We have seen 0 other elves with facial hair. I dug up that showcase of different elves and 0 of them have facial hair. In the Tolkienien lore from which all modern fantasy, or certainly this sort of fantasy, is derived, exactly 2 elves in the history of the world are said to have had facial hair. Elf!Senshi has a tiny little moustache. Elf!Senshi isn't feminine, he is the HOTTEST, HAIRIEST bear in the metaphorical gay club.

...it's possible that he's more of a himbo than we realize, though.

I don't know what's up with Kensuke and I AM worried that it's being directed by the demon. I want it to be Laios's friend so bad...

It occurs to me that "the winged lion is actually the demon at the root of all of this" is probably the biggest spoiler I've gotten, and I didn't even realize how huge a spoiler it was because I DIDN'T get spoilered for the fact that, so far as the characters know, the lion is supposed to be a helpful god. Don't play with spoilers, kids! Even if you want to read the juicy meta!

This initial fight with the gargoyles is probably my new second-favorite "Laios is really quickly analytical and problem-solving in combat" moment (the living armor fight is still #1). He sees how everyone is failing, prevents more problems as he can, realizes they can't win and puts together what pieces they need to get out. In group social dynamics, he's a mediocre leader at best, but he's a superb combat tactician.

Laios is just living in his own little after-school special, and I love him for that.

That first panel is definitely support for the theory that the 50-60yr life expectancy of "short-lived" races like tallmen, orcs, kobolds and halffeet is shorter than it should be, relative to their ages of maturity, because the long-lived races control and hold most of the resources. It's even possible that their ages of maturity SHOULD be even older, but social conditions force them to become "adults" at a younger developmental age than dwarves, gnomes and especially elves!

Panel 3 is Marcille mentally shoving Chilchuck higher on her list of Lives to Extend by Whatever Magic I Can Learn.

I love how the way they figure out that the mushrooms' effects are easily reversible is literally by thinking through the greater social worldbuilding implications of the effects.

^This is the single most Dad we've ever seen Chilchuck...topped only by that 'carry child like a football' a moment later. Actually, he yeets Marcille a LOT while tall - here, over the jump in the travel montage, with Laios to make a loop for the gargoyle...which I'm dead certain is an indication of how he physically treated his daughters. Those kids got casually, affectionately tossed like salad.

.

AND THAT'S WHAT WE CALL FRIENDSHIP.

...okay maybe I did have several thoughts about those 2 chapters.

.

"[Falin] was much tougher than I was. I hear she and our parents still write to each other" is SUCH a line for painting a picture of Laios and Falin's childhoods, and Laios's feelings on it.

.

you can keep your Kabru Wink(TM)s, I am weak only for the Laios Fond Little Smile(TM).

.

I love how Senshi is still musing on this soul = egg metaphor, and I LOVE how both times now that we've seen Laios genuinely lose his temper, it's because someone was saying "why are you just being excited about eating monsters when Falin is in danger?!", and he's snapping because he is fucking NOT dismissing his sister in favor of eating monsters, he is doing EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER to save her and it just so happens that the only plans with a smidgen of success involve leaning into eating monsters. And by trying to stop him from that, you're stopping him from saving Falin.

.

Laios, how tf do you remember the Wink? I'm 99% sure Kabru never once winked in your interactions; I WAS looking for it. Was he just exuding wink energy? (I mean...yes.)

.

The dramatic irony jokes in this chapter are on POINT. Chilchuck: "There's no way this thing still works" [tram door slams shut on his heels, cars immediately starts moving]. "You won't find a military company in the dungeon" [smash cut to Shuro, Namari and Kabru unhappily leading the Canaries into the dungeon]. Impeccable.

Stopping this one here in preparation for going nuts about implied elf-related worldbuilding in the next chapters!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for telling someone they're a horrible person and making them relapse?

trigger warning: self-harm, suicide(?)

so im, like many teenagers online, an avid participant of fandom spaces and my current favorite is genshin impact. if you've ever interacted with the genshin fandom you may guess where this is going but i happened to find myself liking a ship that is the big nono ship in this fandom (aka the incest ship, kaeluc) but since i mostly stick to my space and don't really interact with anyone that doesn't already have content of this ship on their account id never gotten into any hot water over it.. until recently.

this person, ill call them rick, suddenly liked a bunch of my (non-ship related) posts. normal interaction, i didn't think anything of if and moved on. (i didn't even notice at the time, but they unliked all of the posts before what happened next, i assume as they realized i was a proshipper and didn't want to associate with me.) next thing i know, the same user is in my askbox, sending me the most vile, hate filled messages i have ever seen.

ok... no biggie. i delete the asks, block them and move on with my life. but it doesn't stop. i had never in my whole life received hate online, but now for the first time ever, i had a dedicated hater, sending me anonymous asks at all times of the day. death threats, dox threats, telling me to kill myself, calling me a degenerate and all that, all with the same consistent writing style. now, one could say that maybe this wasn't rick, and maybe not even all the same person but i really feel like this is the only reasonable explanation considering i have like 6 followers and my most famous post has 3 notes. i don't think im important enough to have that many haters.

so, i did the only thing i could think to do: turned off anon asks. then the asks started coming from random throwaway accounts. ok...turned off asks. then it was dms. turned those off too. THE FUCKING COMMENT SECTIONS OF MY POSTS.

dedication isn't enough to describe this. at this point it's actually becoming distressing to me and im considering closing my whole account cause i just wanna get away from all this. im 16, i don't have the mental capacity to spend all day policing my social media because someone wants me to die for liking fictional incest.

so i very reluctantly unblock rick and send them a dm. i very gently ask if they are the person who has been sending me asks/dms/etc and if they are, if they could please stop because it's become genuinely distressing to me and i just want to be silly on a website. they block me.

alright, im now out of options. everything on my profile is blocked at this point and i don't even want to post anything else so i just kind of leave the account behind for a while. when i come back, i discover that someone HACKED into the account and defaced the whole thing (changed pfp, deleted posts etc etc) so now im genuinely bummed. i go to rick's profile and guess who has been unblocked? i ask them if they can please answer my question. they don't answer but instead tell me i deserve everything ive gotten and i should choke for all they care.

i tell them they're a terrible person and go absolutely off the rails like the dumb, upset teenager i am. i didn't say anything particularly horrible (mostly i just tell them about how awful they've made me feel over fictional shit that really doesn't matter and how i just wanted peace) but i definetely wouldn't like to receive a message like that. and rick didn't either, because they blocked me.

well, since im sure you're wondering where this comes in, here's where i kind of feel like an asshole:

i continued to stalk rick's account on a different blog (because i was bitter. ok?) and they've been posting about how they relapsed into self harm because of a message they received from a stranger and how they've been crying non-stop and this is the worst relapse they've had in years and etc etc and i just got this pit in my stomach. this person's bio says they're 15! i don't want to ever be the reason a fifteen year old is hurting themselves! i've been feeling like a piece of shit ever since (esp since i also deal with sh) and i just feel like the worse person ever. i honestly don't know if i was just acting like anyone else and this was an unfortunate consequence or if i need to go pray for god to forgive my sins or something.

aita?

What are these acronyms?

[sepublic]

The Owl House's Ending Anniversary...

So it's officially been one whole year since The Owl House ended.

One year ago, I wondered how I would move on. How I would keep going. But I also knew I would, no matter what, because time keeps going on. Things will eventually pass, they always do, that's how so many moments and days for me have gone. Even entire periods of my life.

So I'm not surprised how things have gone on since then; I still had plenty more things to say about TOH, and I still love it just as I have. I've gotten new hyperfixations, and even returned to old ones as some of you can see with recent posts, so it's only a matter of time before TOH circles back again.

And man does it feel so slow, only to feel so brief, it really feels like this anniversary has snuck up on and surprised me! And once again, we have some other, appropriate event lined up; A solar eclipse on this anniversary! Luckily there's no sigils nor coven heads gathered to make me worry. But dang, it was raining in Connecticut when Luz returned there, and it was the rebirth of Jesus when Luz was resurrected.

Makes me wonder if anyone of the Boiling Isles, justifiably, has had PTSD from solar eclipses, and dreaded any that showed up, despite knowing it couldn't happen again. People must've held their breaths the entire time during the first eclipse, panicked at even the slightest fatigue, and then it passed and they realized it really was impermanent and over. And that there was another step towards moving on, which I guess I can relate to now, though this is something I'm much less happy to see gone.

I think a lot about how TOH has influenced both me and my writing, how I approach characters and stories now. I've found myself gravitating more and more towards personal, character-driven stories and situations now. I still have a bit of a taste for grander-scale stuff, but TOH was special for me in that it feels like the first time I really got and understood a show and its characters from the ground-up as I experienced it all in real time. The first time I truly grasped themes and character arcs and could make reasoned predictions based on those, some of which came true! It really feels like THE big start of my media literacy in a way?

It's been fun looking back at TOH as a 'whole' work more or less to reevaluate, and learning other things behind-the-scenes about the show. We've had a few more livestreams and stuff confirmed. Dana's done more drawings, including on her Patreon.

I haven't been writing as much TOH stuff lately, and tbf I've already said soooo much. I might have other, new things to say later down the line, and I do have a few thoughts I've written in notes that maybe could be fully-fledged posts in their own right. I've found comparisons to protagonists of other media, like Miles Morales, or Arin from Ninjago.

The Owl House still is and will probably always be something truly special to me; It feels like my first real fandom experience. My first time understanding and learning a show, appreciating it as it develops and even as I speculate. It broadened my tastes and horizons, my ability to participate with others in stuff.

I miss it; I miss new episodes, new developments. I'm still agonized over things that could've been, things I would've loved to see more of. I'm apprehensive over whether we'll get that Raeda prequel because I don't wanna get my hopes up. Plus Dana needs a well-deserved break and is trying and experimenting with new, different things. And I get that.

It's bittersweet, it's scary, it's freeing, it's sad, it's happy. I've gone so far, this show and fandom has gone so far. And it'll keep going, it has to, time keeps marching on. Luz had to lose her father Manny, process that, but still keep going and must be surprised looking back how much she's adjusted since then, how much she's still grown and gained and learned, while still holding him dear; The same applies for the Titan and the magic she once wielded. With grief and acceptance being a core theme in this show, I'm not surprised that it prepped up the viewers to do the same, and now we have.

And you know what? I'm gonna keep going on, like Luz Noceda, possibly my favorite protagonist of all time, one of the greats and a huge inspiration now for how I really want to write and focus on my own protagonists, too. I'm gonna keep doing this like it never ended. The rate and frequency might fluctuate, but every now and then I'll have things to say, and stuff to drop by and check, such as with the tag and the occasional trending post, others' reblogs, and so forth.

So again, thanks to Dana and the crew. Thanks to Luz Noceda, Eda Clawthorne, King Clawthorne, and the other many, many characters! Luz's story is one where it feels like the show really is about her at its core and wraps around to her, and I want to do a story one day that accomplishes the same feeling. And as I see how Dana has been inspired by past influences, I can't help but look forward to future generations and stories that will themselves have been inspired by The Owl House, I know I've been already, retroactively applying it to things that were already fairly compatible to begin with, and really needed the fresh breath of new inspiration.

I'm repeating a lot of the same things I've said last year. Will I say the same stuff another whole year from now? I'll see. But until next time... BBBBYYYYYYEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

[magnifythesun]

Hiii so mexican salsa YES this post is a prompt! Feel free to change it to whatever you like, but I'd love a lil' story like this:

Ian and anthony are both very obviously in love and the whole smoffice knows it, but them lmao! I'd love this fic to be just text messages or slack posts or sth, where the cast and crew report of sightings of Ian and anthony doing very ianthony stuff and not realize it themselves. Maybe they come up w a way to show or nudge them in the right direction? But Ian and Anthony will still make it a bro moment (broment) bc they think the other one just wants to be bros LMAO ~ Japhan2024 💖

@japhan2024 FANTASTIC IDEA I have to believe that the Smosh cast legit has a secret group chat for stuff like this hahaha the looks on their faces whenever Ian and Anthony do something shippy is priceless

im going to wrack my brain for my favorite moments lolol I hope you enjoy!

(mid writing note: i first wrote basically all texts but it wasn't quite flowing the way i wanted it to so now there's a little more prose lol. this also taught me i do NOT know enough crew members' names)

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56346769

---

It took Erin less than ten minutes to create The Group Chat following the slapping video caress incident.

Erin: "okay so what the fuck"

Tommy: "i'm beside myself."

Angela: "SO WE'RE FINALLY TALKING ABOUT IT"

It began, and all hell broke loose from there.

Most of the cast and crew didn't know Anthony too well when he first returned, but everyone could tell Ian began to positively glow once he came back. It had started mostly with little under-the-breath comments about how big Ian had smiled at something Anthony did, or shared glances after they looked lost in each other's worlds. It's not that everyone wanted to speculate about their bosses, but rather that their bosses were practically giving them no choice.

The real watershed moment was the birth of The Group Chat, which finally provided an outlet for all ianthony incidents witnessed by the cast and crew.

---

Shayne: "Please tell me how Anthony managed to turn his smosh cast interview into an hour of us complimenting Ian."

Tommy: "i swear he practices in his car on the way to work"

---

Erin: "not them discussing deepthroating injuries for like three whole minutes..."

Erin: "while Anthony sucks on his rainbow lollipop......"

Chanse: "they are not beating the allegations"

---

Josh: "So this is I think the fourth video I've edited where Anthony has called Ian daddy??"

Josh: "WHAT is the thought process. I just can't put it together. is Anthony just like yeah I'm going to call my bro daddy about seventeen separate times with varying levels of seriousness and that's good and het and normal."

Erin: "Josh, istg you don't see the half of it. Come watch them film and pay special attention when the cameras are OFF."

---

Erin: "im losing it"

Arasha: "oh god. what happened"

Erin: "i am not fucking kidding right now anthony just called him submissive and breedable."

Keith: "WHAT"

Erin: "he said what he said."

Angela: "BREEDABLE????????????"

Erin: "in front of god and everyone."

Angela: "BREEDABLE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"

---

Tommy: "catching up on the main channel sketches and i just have to ask"

Tommy: "How many men can Ian date in his sketches until he realizes he'd like to date one in real life?"

Chanse: "don't SPEAK to me about it"

---

Tommy: "bicurious, hmm? Ian would you like to share something with the class???"

Chanse: "hes so deep in the mental closet his art is trying to scream it at him through his subconscious."

Chanse: "ive been there 😞"

Josh: "I've never been more prepared to edit a video in my whole life"

---

Angela: "Erinnnn not u directing them to stand closer together 😭😭"

Erin: "look I'm at my wits end. I'm thinking forced proximity might do it"

Keith: "if that could work they would have gotten it during kissing currency 😙💸"

Shayne: "@ courtney is this your thought process behind wanting a kissing video"

Courtney: "HA"

Courtney: "yes."

---

Courtney: "okay so if our plan at this point is just to make them read so many fanfics about themselves out loud that they spontaneously realize they're in love, we've got to find some fics that don't contain the word 'cummies'"

Angela: "what are cummies?? 😇"

Shayne: "ANGELA I SWEAR TO GOD"

---

As the incidents kept piling up, a plot began to form. Maybe Anthony and Ian were just so oblivious that they all needed to adopt a certain 'push-comes-to-shove' mentality, and do what had to be done. Everyone agreed, they had to find a way to put them in such a charged situation that this would all finally boil over, and the astounding tension that had plagued the office would be resolved. The ultimate achievement of this long-weary Group Chat.

Erin: "okay so one more time. everyone has talked with HR, yes? and everyone slated for the vid is comfortable with the concept of spin the bottle"

Angela: "what's spin the bottle? 😇"

Tommy: "STOP"

Shayne "1) Yes for the thousandth time, we promise. 2) What the FUCK are we going to do if this bottle never lands on Anthony and Ian"

Erin: "I will keep this shoot going as long as necessary."

Shayne: "That sounds like a threat?"

Chanse: "I'm suddenly regretting my decision. May I take my week's vacation right now?"

---

Erin: "how..."

Courtney: "did you see the look in their eyes????? :O"

Angela: "FATE WAS ON OUR SIDE. IT LANDED ON THEM THREE WHOLE TIMES"

Erin: "yes but,,,,,"

Tommy: "don't speak to me I'm still reeling"

Keith: "oh please don't tell me it didn't work."

Chanse: "i just have one question. how did they kiss THREE TIMES and still not realize."

Courtney: "they were both practically levitating from giddiness"

Arasha: "they just kept looking away from each other and laughing it off... they didn't see each other's expressions 😭😭"

Angela: "guys. guys"

Erin: "what"

Angela: "do u know what this means"

Angela: "now that we've pushed them over this hurdle... They're going to start bro kissing in their sketches"

Chanse: "oh my god"

Josh: "oh fuck you're right"

Erin: "that's it."

Erin: "im quitting smosh"

Amanda: "Oh hey guys! We have a group chat?"

Shayne:

[utilitycaster]

Regarding Editing and Innovating in the space, 2 people who get a Fraction of the credit they deserve are Ivan Van Norman & Marisha Ray. I mean, they created and developed one of the original mixed media cinematic interactive actual plays, Sagas of Sundry: Dread, and then Sagas of Sundry: Madness, and Marisha (later hiring Ivan as well) has continued that trajectory in some of the more intriguingly edited mixed format Actual plays at CR, like Call of Cthulhu, Undeadwood, and others, and being Instrumental in the developments at CR. Like, when you do watch the interviews you get a sense of just how Much of CR's current content designs, ttrpg intentions, and series are marisha's brainchilds, and it sucks that she doesnt get the credit others involved in similar projects, and even those projects, do.

This is a great point. I've mentioned this before w/r/t the fandom - Marisha, perhaps more than anyone, gets reduced even by many fans to "she's pretty and her characters are like what if a girlboss were a girlfailure" and her creative direction goes unheralded. It feels like this has gotten worse in recent years; I was baffled at how many people seemingly resented Calamity or Candela for taking up space they felt should go only to the main campaign when those were not only showcases for Marisha as a performer but also clearly something in which she had a strong hand in designing. Whenever people whine about there only being two main campaign episodes in a month because of Candela Obscura, I do think "You realize this was probably Marisha's call?"

I was focused in my response much more on Daggerheart, and so on the game design side (quick side note - reviews of A Familiar Problem, which Marisha worked on, were pretty positive; I wonder if something's happened in the past 2 years since that's when I've really felt this Damn Critical Role energy among actual play journalists), but I had been thinking about Sagas of Sundry and Undeadwood! I think I mentioned Sagas of Sundry in one of my posts about how Kollok isn't, in my mind, impressive. I loved Dread but never finished Madness before Alpha folded, but actually I was imagining something like Madness - fully on a set, people walking around like it's a play - for Kollok! When I saw everyone at a table with that rotating rock I was like "is this...it?" And, you know, Sagas: Madness wasn't entirely for me, but you can't fault the innovation. Similarly, when I think about the (baffling) criticism from one of the prominent actual play journalists I've had in mind while writing this, that Candela Obscura the show did not fully teach people Candela Obscura the game, I think about how Ivan Van Norman did straight up teach Savage Worlds during Undeadwood. Whenever people gush over the shadow puppets in Burrow's End I think it's deserved, but when they claim it's utterly new? Nah. Call of Cthulhu: Shadow of the Crystal Palace did it first. And Marisha had a guiding hand in the creative direction of all of these.

I think this is sort of elaboration on one of my points in my original post: I think a lot of the journalists are really out of their depth. I don't remember seeing their names when I first started watching CR in 2018, or when I got deeper into the fandom in 2019. My first actual play was TAZ, which I binged in late 2017. I really think a lot of the journalists flat-out don't know Sagas of Sundry or Undeadwood because they didn't show up until after Alpha folded. I've mentioned this elsewhere but so much of the claims of novelty and innovation are completely incorrect and not even terribly obscure. Look, I've seen/listened to most or all of 9 actual plays (this is counting D20 and CR each as one single unit, by the way - I've seen all but scattered one-offs from either), and seen or heard an episode or two of many more. I think that simply by doing that? I know more than a lot of these journalists.

Again: Worlds Beyond Number? The innovation is with the Witch class and the Wizard of the Citadel subclasses, and the allowance of extremely long downtime, but: longform podcast actual play with sound design? RQG did it starting in 2015. Griffin McElroy and Emily Axford have been composing their own music since 2017 or 2018 for their respective shows, both of which are also longform podcast actual plays. Again, Brennan pretty explicitly said "I don't think D20 is new, nor longform" in a quote and the article that quotes him argues that Fantasy High is new and longform...and that article also talks about how before D20 most AP video was livestreamed before talking about how boundary-breaking D20 was for having a livestreamed second season (you know, the thing that they just called old hat a paragraph earlier) that quickly pivoted to remote (even though remote livestreaming was actually quite common in smaller productions well before the pandemic, since you don't need anything but laptop cameras to produce it). I don't even keep up with much in the really indie AP scene, but those people I know who do are even less impressed by the state of Actual Play journalism than I, because D20 executes a lot of things extremely well, has a very talented roster of performers, and a budget most productions cannot hope to match, but a good deal of what it's credited for inventing (and which, again, it never claims to have invented. I want to be clear that the journalists decided to be like this for no clear reason) already existed. And, by placing this heavy emphasis on production, they are automatically making it hard for indie productions to impress them. For all they claim to be going after the 700 lb gorilla, they are simply cozying up to the 600 lb gorilla. It's real "um, why don't you try this little indie game called Pathfinder" hours.

I am fairly sure a lot of the people in prominent journalistic positions in the actual play sphere today came in only after the collapse of Geek and Sundry, is my point, and so I think they literally do not realize how much the medium owes to, for example, Marisha Ray and Ivan Van Norman, because they weren't watching in 2016 nor even skipping through the G&S archives, as I did as a new CR fan. I think they're absolutely out of their depth, and most of them don't even realize it.

[scavengerflight]

《 Infinity 》

I recently finished a book that has a spotlight on turkey vultures. This book was fantastic, and I highly recommend it. Vulture by Katie Fallon is both informative and whimsical, but this post isn't a book review.

In the last chapter before the afterward, Fallon brings up a topic that I'm pretty passionate about, which has promted me to finally talk about it. Vultures are symbols of many things for me, such as representing how I want to live life and my spirituality, but one of the greatest comforts they provide me with is that they remind me that life ends, but also lives on forever.

I've had anxiety my entire life, and it got incredibly bad in my teens. I've gotten medication and therapy since then, and it's paid tremendous dividends. I would always be scrutinizing over my every move or thought. I had to be perfect at everything, art, school, and literally everything else I was doing. When I discovered paganism and found my own beliefs, I felt a great comfort in the fact that I will no longer exist one day. There will come a day where no one remembers me. There will come a day where nothing I will do or have done will matter. All of that will simply fade into the universe. Vultures remind me of this. They remind me that I don't have to worry, that I can make mistakes and learn along the way, that I can do my best without hurting myself. I can exist how I want to, regardless of how others think of me. One day, there will be no one left to remember me. Vultures are the witnesses of many stories of many creatures, including themselves, and any story must come to an end at some point.

On a completely opposite note, vultures also remind me that I will live on in the veins of Mother Earth after life. All of my chemical components will be broken down and spread to places beyond my current reach. I will be one with Mother Earth in perhaps the most powerful way possible after death. That means so much to me. I don't want to be embalmed or preserved, I want to be in a completely biodegradable coffin/casket, wearing a simple 100% cotton gown, so all that I am can dissolve and dissipate throughout the planet, my nutrients going whenever they are needed- where I'm needed. Where she needs me. Vultures remind me that I have an immortal place in death. Just like the carcasses they consume, I will re-enter the cycle of life. My corporeal components will enter this system more intimately than I ever could in life. I will live on the soil, the plants, the fungus, the insects, and so on, forever being recycled through the veins of the great Mother.

I realize these are pretty different ideas, but together, they bring me a great deal of comfort mentally and spiritually. Being a vulture makes me feel whole, like my story is worth sharing.

[storiesofsvu]

Solace In Solitude Ch 4

Warnings: language, medical talk, mentions of trauma/Lauren episode. Medical injury, panic attacks/generalized anxiety. Very likely inaccurate information about DWB and medical procedures. I'm literally making things up as I go along. don't come for me. Also note that this is one of those chapters where it's little events over the passage of time so the ** means that it's a new day/few more days later kinda thing. Apologies for taking so much time between chapters on this and posting in general, being out of town really threw my entire week and vibe off and I hate it. Hopefully this will kick start me back to where I want to be lol

Emily was honestly surprised when she didn’t see you at all over the next two days, she heard your name a couple of times but nothing about you being in the hospital. She found that without you around she felt a little more obligated to actually do what you’d asked, as if she was a school kid doing extra credit on spring break, that if she had done it by the time you’d gotten back she’d get a gold star. When it felt like you were breathing over her shoulder it just made her less motivated, as if she was about to do it and then you’d ask about it and she’d immediately shut down and wasn’t going to do it any longer. She was doing it for herself, not for you.

She was whisked away one afternoon for a quick procedure, another doctor redoing the irritated stitches on her back and she was reminded once again to start being a little more active. Somehow she took that advice a little closer to heart, making it to the nurses station and back twice during the rest of the afternoon. Now that she was moving around a bit more her appetite was increased, each meal finished almost in its entirety and the nurses praised her level of hydration. She still didn’t like her required walks, she found there were too many people around, too many doctors watching out of the corner of their eyes, nurses badgering her if she needed anything or wanted to check out PT, families there to visit others who just stared. After one of her first walks she retreated back to her room and refused to get out of the bed the rest of the day.

It was later that night that she found just how empty the hospital got after dark. Hallways basically cleared, the rooms quiet, lights dimmed, windows that she could actually see the stars through. Emily actually started to enjoy those walks, something about them was calming, knowing that this time was hers only, that the city was asleep, she felt safe. She didn’t feel ashamed about how slow she was moving, how many breaks she had to take or something trivial like how bad her hair looked when she walked at night with no one to witness. Going to PT could still eat a bag of dicks though.

She was honestly starting to think that the little outburst between the two of you had been enough to make you throw in the towel, and she didn’t blame you either. She’d been incredibly stubborn, she always was and her realizing this wasn’t about to make her stop, she just wouldn’t judge you for giving up on her. She was used to it by now, it wasn’t like you were the only one who had done so.

She’d spent a good chunk of the night wandering through the hospital, taking breaks whenever she needed, she found a particularly nice windowsill up on the fourth floor and made a mental note to bring a book with her the next night. She just felt more alive at night, the darkness hid everything, hid her past, her secrets, her shame and guilt about everything that had happened. It was only when the building began to come alive that she let out a huff, returning to her room, surprising herself when she fell asleep instantly.

**

By the time Emily woke up it was nearing noon, sun streaming in through the open blinds, warming the room from the cool spring morning. She shifted slightly in the bed, stretching out a couple of tense muscles as she blinked her eyes open, glancing around the room. It was no surprise that her breakfast was left on the rolling table, ready and waiting for whenever she was awake, this had been a daily occurrence. It was just more often than not that she woke up when they did morning rounds, she was assuming her night crawling of the hospital had her conked out heavier than normal. She rolled her head to the other direction to look out the window when her brows furrowed at the sight of you on the small couch in the corner. You had what looked like a textbook in your lap, a pile of charts on one side and a notebook on the other, pen in your hand, highlighter in the top pocket of your scrubs. At first she was surprised you hadn’t jumped to attention the moment she moved and then she noticed your earphones. She pushed herself up to sitting but even that movement didn’t catch your eye, so she picked up an empty paper cup from the side table, crumpling it up and hucking it in your direction. You jumped, glancing up as you pulled out one earphone and then the other.

“Seriously? We’re resorting to throwing things at one another now?”

“Why are you in my room?”

“It’s quieter than the nurses station.” You shrugged, going back to the book, “I was in here a lot while you were still comatose. It’s easier to focus when you can actually hear your brain.” You mumbled, letting out a little sigh, flipping a page.

Emily didn’t say anything in return, not that you were expecting much. Instead she studied you, the profiler gears in her brain beginning to turn once again. You looked about as tired as she felt, but it wasn’t slow blinks or bags under your eyes, it was the dejection wafting off you, the way your shoulders hunched forward and you were curled around yourself like you were admitting defeat, like you were trying to comfort yourself. She could tell that your eyes were scanning the text but you weren’t absorbing anything, maybe it was because now she was awake and you were aware of her watching you but she was pretty sure that wasn’t it. There was something eating at you, something that was pulling you away from swiping traumas and surgeries from down in the ER for a more isolated day in the one place where no one would want to come looking for you.

“What’s with you today?” She suddenly asked, almost kicking herself instantly at the way she worded the question. Sure, she didn’t really care but she could’ve been a little more civil, if she pissed you off you did have the authority to prod at her with needles.

“Hmm?” You hadn’t even glanced up from the book.

“You seem…off.”

This time you let out another tired sigh, flipping the book shut and tossing it off to the side, “it’s my younger sister’s thirtieth today. We always do a girl’s trip for her birthday and considering it’s a milestone year we were supposed to be doing a big one.”

“What’s stopping you?” She asked, her brow scrunching as she reached out to her breakfast and you vaguely gestured around the room. “You use up all your vacation days already?”

“No.” You practically snorted, “but I can’t exactly take enough time off.”

“Then have her fly out here?” Emily suggested and your eyes narrowed in her direction, wondering why she was technically trying to help you out right now.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy you know.” You pulled her chart from the pile beside you, “besides, my family thinks I’m in Haiti.” Your eyes were skimming through the updates in her chart as she studied you for a moment longer.

“Why?”

“It was where I did my longest posting for Doctors Without Borders, I liked it the best and it was the one I was the busiest and most unreachable. It was the most believable cover so any friends and family wouldn’t wonder why I seemed to disappear off the face of the earth.”

“Oh…” She paused for a moment, picking apart the pastry in front of her, slowly chewing on a couple of pieces, “I didn’t realize Borders had a program here.”

“They don’t.” You replied dryly, not looking up, “at least not in the city. There’s a couple of programs out in the suburbs, lots of work helping refugees.”

“Is that where you were the last couple of days?” She asked and the pen in your hand stalled and you finally looked up at her.

“What?”

“You haven’t been around for a bit,” she shrugged, popping another bite of food into her mouth.

“I’m not with Borders right now. The US government is paying my salary, when I said I was from Boston I meant that’s where I live, it’s where I had a very comfortable job that I loved and had just started doing research for a clinical trial so I could get a grant for it. Then I essentially signed a verbal NDA saying I wouldn’t tell anyone where I was or what I was doing for your safety and I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” You flipped the chart closed, standing from the couch, “so how about you cooperate for once and lean forward so I can check those new stitches.”

Emily felt a twinge of guilt creep through her at your admission, dropping the pastry back onto her plate so she could shift upwards and you could do what you needed to. She’d been so wrapped up in her own situation she’d just figured you’d either volunteered or were on a separate contract or something. She was slowly realizing that maybe you’d been thrown into this new life as much as she had.

You pulled on a pair of gloves, lifting up her shirt so you could examine the newly done work, gently touching a couple of them, “looks good. Plastics knows what they’re doing.” You let out a sigh, dropping her shirt back down, “I’m glad your appetite’s back, and clearly you’ve been moving around a bit more.”

“Guess you could say I got a little antsy staying in bed all the time.”

“Good.” Crossing back to the couch you started to pick up all your things, “now get your ass down to PT, I’m booking it for you on Wednesday.”

“Oh come on!” Emily groaned, slipping right back into the dynamic of her being insanely frustrated with this place, you, herself, “I was up walking the entire floor the last couple of days, isn’t that enough?”

“No.” You stated blankly, turning back to her from the door, “you’ve got muscles in your abdomen that need restrengthening. Not to mention your mobility, you’ll go to do something you’ve always been able to do and find that you can’t do it now or it’s gonna hurt like hell. You need to be cleared for at home PT before you get discharged.” You pulled the door open, “and for the sake of both of us, you want to get discharged. Go to PT.”

Emily grumbled, dropping back down onto the bed as you swung the door shut behind you.

This was bullshit.

She was a trained FBI agent who passed all her physical and fitness tests with flying colours, she didn’t need PT. She was fine.

**

This loop around the hospital got Emily down to the cafeteria, happily picking up a side of fries to take back to her room, a little treat, a reward considering she got herself up and moving today. She was eating them while flipping through a magazine when you slipped into the room and she noticed the way you spotted the smuggled in food, a frown taking over her face.

“Take the fries away and I’ll be on my worst behaviour.” She warned, actually earning a chuckle from you.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You replied, moving through the room to check on her vitals, “plus that means you made it all the way down to the caf, that’s a decent walk.”

“Hmph.” As usual, she shut down as soon as you managed to weasel your way a quarter inch through the door. You let out a soft sigh, scribbling down a couple of updates into her chart.

“Do you not want to get out of here or something?” You asked and it was Emily’s turn to sigh, chewing on her lip for a moment while she thought before looking up at you with a trace of worry etched into her features.

“What exactly happens when I do get out of here?”

“There’s an apartment set up.” You replied, “I’ll take you there, make sure you’re settling in. I’ve got other paperwork for you, passport, ID’s, bank account to keep you comfortable. They left me with a burner phone, said they’d call if there was ever a major update.” Emily let out a low breath, her eyes flitting between you, the window and then the door as a tightness wound its way into her chest. Your brow furrowed, perching on the edge of the bed, your hand gently squeezing at her leg through the blanket, “hey… what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She shook it off, avoiding your gaze, “it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You can lie to me all you want but the monitors you’re hooked up to can’t. So when your heart rate spikes like that, as your doctor, it’s my job to worry.”

Scowling, she crossed her arms over her chest, sinking back into the bed as she tried to retrain her body to not show the signs of stress no matter how much she was feeling it. However this time things were different, she really was vulnerable, she didn’t have her gun, her team, the strength to pull herself out of another hole. She took a heavy breath, her eyes closing for a moment before she finally dropped the mask. It had been long enough now, her mind was clear of all the fogginess that had came with the coma, with the higher level of pain meds, she’d been able to piece things together over the past couple of weeks and she knew the truth before she even asked, her voice wavering when she finally spoke.

“They didn’t catch him, did they? I mean… that’s why we’re here isn’t it?”

“I… don’t know.” You shrugged, “I’m sorry. But considering all the secretiveness, the hiding, I’d assume that whoever did that to you is still out there.” Pausing for a moment you watched the way she appeared to shrink even further into the bed, “was… what happened… a work related thing, or personal? Like are we talking about a jealous ex or a sadistic serial killer?”

Your words almost made Emily laugh at the irony of your question and she wasn’t even sure she could explain the situation to herself right now. Instead she slipped the mask back on, rolling onto her side to face the window, her mumble barely heard, “it’s a long story.”

**

The stars had been so bright through the hospital windows Emily felt incredibly drawn to them, the temptation of breathing fresh air for the first time in months too strong for her to resist. Head tilted up to the night sky, eyes shut as the breeze whipped around her she finally felt like she was free. You were nowhere to be found, the beeping and whirring of machines no longer attacking her senses, she couldn’t feel nurses hands constantly prodding at her body, she was the one in control. The city was strangely quiet, or maybe it was just that she was used to DC, that she’d forgotten what the European streets sounded like after dark, maybe she really could get used to this. She could smell rain in the air, heavy clouds hanging in the sky before a droplet hit her cheek. A smile split her lips as her eyes opened, fingers raising to wipe away the drop though her head tilted in confusion when they came away from her cheek coated in crimson. Another drop came barreling down from the sky and landed in front of her feet, when it hit the pavement it exploded into a pool of blood, trickling its way into the cracks of the sidewalk, sputtering in time with the beating of her heart.

“Hello Emily.” She could hear his voice clear as day, feel his breath on the back of her neck, his hands closing in around her waist, squeezing a little too tight on the side of her injury, his fingers digging into the stitches and she winced. “Or what is it that they’re calling you nowadays? Did you decide to stick with Lauren? I always thought it suited you so beautifully.”

She tried to shove away from him but when she turned around he was nowhere to be seen, only his dark laugh echoing through the air. The air seemed to be turning darker, stars vanishing from the sky, the rain had picked up, coating the streets in maroon and her vision began to tunnel. She whipped around again at Ian’s laugh, eyes darting around the buildings, her breath catching in her throat when she couldn’t see the hospital anymore.

“I found you once, you know I’ll be able to find you again.” Ian jeered, and she let out a groan as his fingers scratched across the brand on her chest, “I marked you. You’ll always belong to me. But you knew that, didn’t you? You’re just waiting for me to come get you, take back what’s rightfully mine.”

Emily gasped at the feeling of cold metal at the back of her neck, digging into her skin as he pressed the gun hard against the base of her skull. She could feel the heat of his body right up against hers,

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to make any mistakes this time. I’m not going to leave you for dead. I’m not walking away until I see your brains splattered on the ground.”

Her eyes squeezed tightly shut in an attempt to hold back her tears as he cocked the gun and the jolt that shocked through her made her gasp out loud, she struggled to breathe for only a moment before her eyes flew open.

Emily was shaking, covered in a sheen of sweat as she bolted upright in her bed, her hand slamming out to turn on the light in her hospital room. Panicked eyes darted around every corner and crevice of the room as her heart hammered in her chest. Gaining the courage to move she checked under the bed, making sure the bathroom was empty before she returned to her bed. She could still hear Ian’s voice running through her brain, her arms breaking out in goosebumps as the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She felt like she couldn’t quite catch her breath, her brain alert yet also foggy, almost dizzy as his words found their way back into her head. He was right, the longer she stayed here, the more of a sitting duck she was.

She had to get out of here.

Now.

She hopped off the bed, thankful that she was still in a set of the comfortable clothes you’d brought in for her. Rushing around the room she yanked her phone charger out from the wall, tossing it into the duffel bag while she quickly gathered anything else she might need. It was a flurried frenzy while she debated between slipping out the door or climbing out the window before she remembered she was on the third floor. Taking a deep breath, she unclipped the monitor on her finger, ripped the stickers off her chest and with a heavy wince tugged out her IV, holding a cotton ball to it until she was certain it wasn’t bleeding and wrapping a band aid over it.

She was so wrapped up in her own panic, in the fact that she felt like she was suffocating from the inside out, she tried to shake out of it, she just needed to get out of the four walls of her room and she would feel better, she knew it. They were closing in on her, darkness taking over in the exact same way the city streets had trapped her with Ian. Her eyes were blurring and she didn’t even realize it was because they were filling with tears, her hand clawed at her chest, tugging down the neckline of her shirt so it wasn’t constricting around her neck so much. She jumped, a quiet yelp escaping her lips when there was a flash of lightning outside the window and she was certain for a moment that Ian was in the room with her. She bent over, zipping the duffel bag up and wrenched it onto her shoulder and this yelp was much louder than the last. There was a searing pain in her side and she could feel something wet on her stomach, she couldn’t even get the bag off the ground and she was stumbling backwards before she even knew it.

“Whoa!” A voice called out and she jerked away from the set of hands that were gently wrapping around her waist, certain that they were Ian’s.

“Get off!” She managed out, her voice raw as she pushed away a little too hard, teetering back into the bed.

“Hey, hey…” your voice was calmer this time, “Valerie, it’s me, alright. It’s Doctor Carter, I’m not gonna hurt you, but I do need you to get back in bed. Valerie? Valerie, look at me.” Your hands gently closed around her wrists, pulling them away from her face and you realized just how wild her eyes were, that whatever kind of nightmare she’d been having she was still partially trapped in, “Valerie…”

“It’s Lauren!” She snapped and suddenly her body stilled as she gasped out a breath, muscles relaxing when she came back to earth and realized what she’d said. Her hand flew to her mouth and she tried to hold back the cries that were fighting their way out.

“Hey… you’re okay.” You assured her, squeezing softly at her hands, “but it looks like you blew a stitch or two. How about you lie back and we get that taken care of, okay?”

 She nodded softly, shifting backwards onto the bed with a wince as you turned around to grab a suture kit and pull on a pair of gloves.

Sun was peeking in through the semi shut blinds when Emily let out a groan, blinking open her eyes before she swallowed, her mouth incredibly dry.

“I feel like I just woke up from the dead.” She muttered.

“A nice drug cocktail will do that.” You returned with a yawn and she nearly jumped, her eyes flying to the couch in the corner where you were curled up with a book, finishing the page before you looked up at her, “you feeling better than last night?”

“I.. guess?”

“What happened in the nightmare?” You asked and she scoffed.

“There was no nightmare.”

“Yeah, right. It was the middle of the night and you were trying to make a run for it in the midst of a panic attack.” You closed the book on your lap, a concerned expression on your face, “listen. I know that you don’t like me and that is completely acceptable, but you do need to get whatever’s on your mind out. I may not be a shrink but you’ve made a very good point that you can’t talk to one, so talk to me. The more I know, the more I can do to help you, including getting you on the proper combination of meds to make sure you’re not having anymore nightmares like that.”

Emily hated that you were right, letting out a frustrated sigh as she slowly sat up to pour herself a glass of water, taking a few sips to counteract the dry mouth from whatever you’d given her last night to calm her down.  She felt the fear creeping its way through her veins, letting out a little shiver and tugging JJ’s sweater tighter around her body.

“He’s still out there.” She started, her voice barely above a whisper, “and he wants me dead.”

“As far as he’s concerned… you are dead.” You assured gently, “that’s why we’re here, remember? To keep you safe. I know it sucks, and who knows how long we’ll be here but it’s keeping you alive, okay?”

“I just…” she huffed, struggling to find the words as tears blurred into her eyes and she dropped her hands down to her lap with a defeated sniffle, “I can’t lift my arm above my head. If he tracks me down how am I supposed to put up a fight if I can’t even pick up a fucking duffle bag? I know it was stupid to try and run off like that, I was freaked out and wasn’t thinking straight. It just feels like the longer I’m trapped here….”

“That you’re actually trapped.” You finished for her and she glanced toward you, nodding gently.

“Yeah.” She replied, trying to wipe away a tear before you’d noticed it rolling over her cheek. You sunk back into the couch, honestly shocked to see her this vulnerable with her guard down this far. You weren’t sure if she finally trusted you or if she was just too tired to put up with it anymore but you figured now was the time to push your luck.

“Can I ask something?”

“Sure.” She reached out for her water, staring into the cup as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Who’s Lauren?”

“An old undercover alter ego.” She admitted, “the one that he fell in love with. The one who ultimately ended up betraying him and sending him to prison. He escaped, wanted revenge and was willing to take out my entire team along the way. So I took the fight to him instead.”

“Ballsy.”

“Stupid.” She scoffed, risking a look up at you as her fingers came to the swell of her chest, gingerly scratching through the fabric, “doesn’t matter if he never finds me I’m marked as his now.” Your head tilted and your brows furrowed as you looked at her, “what?”

“I knew the mark was new, I didn’t realize it wasn’t consensual.” You replied and she scoffed again, this time accompanied with an eye roll.

“Tattoos are more my style.”

“I know brands can’t really fully be removed, but it’s not my specialty, I can send plastics up for a consult?” You offered, finally shifting from the couch, stretching out your stiff body, “the scar tissue doesn’t look that bad, might have to do another skin graft but I’m sure there’s something they can figure out.”

“Uh… yeah, sure. Thanks.” A tight smile flashed briefly across her lips and you returned one to her as you approached the bed, “god you look like shit.”

“There she is.” You muttered with a sigh, “I didn’t want to go home and leave you on your own after that.” You checked how long ago you’d administered the meds, eyes flicking to the monitors to add a couple of notes in her chart. “I want to get you started on some daily anti anxiety meds and probably some sleeping pills too, if you’re having nightmares like that sometimes it’s better not to dream at all.”

“Yeah.” She ducked her gaze, her water cup suddenly very interesting as you replaced her chart and began to move to the door, “Dr. Carter?” She suddenly called out and you spun back to her with a brow raised, surprised she even remembered your name, much less used it.

“Yeah?”

“I need… to be able to take care of myself.” She felt heat creeping into her cheeks as she risked a glance up at you, “I can’t do that if I can’t lift a bag.” A small grin spread across your lips as she spoke, “is there an opening for PT today?”

“I’ll call down to find out.” You replied, pulling the door open, “make sure you get on the list asap.”

“Thanks.”

_____________________

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[khaire-traveler]

Is it the gods, an imposter/trickster spirit, or your own trauma?

The reason I am choosing to make this post is because I've seen an increase in the trickster/imposter spirit talk in polytheist and pagan spaces, and I feel like I have some personal experience with this that may be helpful to share with others. Whether you agree or disagree with me is entirely up to you, and I am not trying to force anyone to follow the same belief system as me, since we all have a different truth, but I wanted to share my take on things in case it can be useful to someone, so without further adieu, here we go.

I feel like there is a serious problem within pagan spaces of individuals projecting their personal traumas onto gods.

I'm just gonna outright say it: this is a very real problem within the pagan (and the polytheist) community. So, what exactly do I mean by this? How are people "projecting their traumas onto gods"?

When I say this, I don't mean to imply that people are doing this intentionally. In fact, I think that 99% of the time people are doing this without realizing it. It takes a serious level of self-awareness to recognize when one is projecting traumas onto a situation, and in my experience, therapy often aids significantly in making these types of discoveries; once you recognize it within yourself, sometimes you can also recognize similar behaviors in others (do not diagnose anybody with anything, though, or assume you know everything about them and their life).

Personally, I have done a lot of self-reflection and have become very aware of behaviors and experiences I've had in the past where I've projected my trauma onto the gods. For a lot of these experiences, at the time, I thought I was going through a situation with imposter spirits or "deity drama" (experiencing some kind of major drama with the gods), but looking back, I have spotted several underlying patterns (I suggest always looking for underlying patterns within your own situations; are your situations often very similar to each other, and do they remind you of situations from your past) within all of these scenarios - they have always been connected in one way or another, whether it be by the type of things the "gods" or "spirits" are communicating to me (what they are saying) or the type of situation I've gotten myself into with these entities (the type of drama I'm experiencing/how the situation plays out; e.g. it relates to some form of abandonment, hyper-criticism, emotional abuse, etc.).

In order to tell if these things are trauma-related, I've found that stopping and asking myself a few questions has been really helpful.

First, I asked myself, "When was the first time I felt this way in my life?" By that, I am asking myself when I first felt the emotion I'm feeling in the given situation (does this situation feel familiar, does this sense of sense of abandonment feel familiar, does this feeling of helplessness feel familiar, etc.). You'd be surprised how many times the answer to this question in a "negative experience with the gods" has been yes (100% of the time, actually).

The second question I ask myself is, "Would [insert deity name here] actually do [insert problem/bad experience here] to me?" Remember to think very critically about this question. It can be easy to think - especially if you have religious trauma - that some deity would really spend their time focused on "punishing" or berating you in particular, but realistically speaking, would a deity really spend their time tearing you down instead of lifting you up? Would they really spend their time telling you about how awful you are, how disappointed they are, how you're doing everything wrong, etc., especially if this is a deity you have been historically very close with? Why would this deity be upset with you in the first place? Now, sometimes deity DO get upset with us for our actions (and it is important to note that you may not click with every deity you encounter), but even then, keep in mind that deities are extremely mature and ancient beings; they aren't going to treat you in a cruel, or even abusive, manner. If you don't think deities are mature enough to treat and respect you as an actual person, maybe you should examine why you feel this way about them. Do you expect to be treated as less than a person by other people as well? Have you been treated this way in the past? Look for possible connections to your past traumas before completely discounting the idea that these beliefs are entirely unbiased.

With the third question, it's important to think very critically about your situation. "Why would [insert deity name here] treat me this way?" When answering this question, make sure to consider also asking yourself if you expect to be treated this way by other humans; the answer to that can be very telling. Some people also assume deities will treat them a certain way due to a deity's mythos. It's imperative to realize that a deity is often very different from their mythos in reality. Mythology isn't typically meant to be interpreted literally. Most of the time, mythology was there to explain things that didn't make sense to humans at the time, such as the seasons changing or the sun moving across the sky. Of course, that wasn't the only purpose of mythology, but it was one of the many. Along with that, deities were often paired with the cultural values of the time, such as Hades kidnapping Persephone being a common practice in ancient Greece when "taking a wife" or Zeus giving Persephone's hand in marriage without telling Demeter or Persephone first (fathers were seen as having the right to marry off their daughters, with or without consent). Consider the cultural context of a deity's mythos before immediately assuming a deity is accurately represented by it. Again, deities are extremely mature and ancient beings, so realistically, would such a wise, knowledgeable, and very mature being treat you in whatever way you think they're treating you now? Why do you think this?

A simple and easy answer for a deity acting out of character that people have come up with is "it's an imposter/trickster spirit", but...is it really? Or could it just be your personal traumas reflecting onto that deity? Do these situations feel a bit familiar to you? Do these harsh criticisms sound like something you'd maybe even say to yourself when in a negative state of mind? How would this spirit know how and when to target all of your deepest insecurities (spirits cannot just randomly read minds, in my experience)? Would it even be worth it for a spirit to impersonate a deity (think of the potential consequences they'd face for pretending to be a literal god; if humans were punished for their hubris, just think of what would happen to a spirit)? Would a deity really just allow some random spirit to impersonate them, and if so, why do you think this? Random spirits are not more powerful than literal gods - remember this. Do you think a god wouldn't at least try protect their worshippers from imposters in some way? Why would some spirit pretend to be a god anyway? What would they have to gain from you?

Rather than it being an imposter/trickster spirit "messing with you", could it really be your personal trauma manifesting itself within your mind?

A good example of something actually being trauma, within my personal life, is when I thought that Hermes was permanently leaving my life. After the fact, I blamed my experiences on an imposter/trickster spirit, but when I actually stopped and examined the situation, I realized it was a culmination of past traumas and fears coming to light and manifesting themselves within my mind. I began almost looking for reasons why Hermes would want to leave my life and told myself that he was going to "abandon" me, despite receiving tarot readings, and even some dreams, that were reassuring me Hermes was sticking around. I had constant nightmares about the situation, misinterpreted signs as being negative, and was constantly anxious about Hermes' perception of me. When I reflected on times in the past where I perceived to have been abandoned by others, I realized that this situation was eerily similar to these past traumatic events in my life. I took a step back from the situation, calmed my nerves as best as I could, and reproached the situation with a clearer and more stable mind. Sometimes taking that step back can help significantly in figuring out the true cause of a spiritual problem.

Why are deities so easy to project our traumas onto?

As is everything within this post, this is my personal opinion; you don't have to agree with me.

Personally, I believe deities act as mirrors into our subconscious. They reflect parts of ourselves that we choose to hide from, often to aid in our personal growth. Sometimes, though, they do this unintentionally, and I think it's something that's just inherent in their nature. I can't fully explain it, but it's definitely a phenomenon that I've seen time and time again within both my own practice and the practices of others.

As well as this, deities are intangible beings that we often cannot hear, see, or physically interact with. When you can't hear what someone is trying to say to you explicitly, your own biases and experiences often do the work for you in interpreting what that person is trying to communicate. It becomes alarmingly easy to assume that they're upset with you, randomly leaving your life forever, and so on. Think of a time where maybe a friend didn't respond to a text you sent and you thought they were upset at or ignoring you. When you have existing traumas involving people abandoning, ignoring, or even just being generally upset with you by not interacting with you, it becomes extremely easy to misinterpret the actions of others as something more malicious. It becomes extremely easy to project your past traumatic experiences onto completely unrelated situations and people. This is the same for deities, especially since you cannot hear, see, or physically interact with them.

What should you do if you discover that you've been projecting trauma onto a deity?

Chances are that if you've been projecting trauma onto a deity, they're already aware of it. In fact, they may have been trying to help reassure you or send communicate that the situation is not what it seems. You can find this is signs/reminders that they're still a part of your life, divination readings that everything is ok (despite you thinking or feeling otherwise), comforting dreams featuring the deity of symbols of said deity, and so on. Try looking for these signs and/or messages within your life, and see what you can find.

In rare cases, the deity may have been entirely unaware of the situation. I think, either way, it's best to communicate with this deity and tell them what you suspect has been going on. If you feel the need, you can offer an apology and maybe provide an offering as a way to make amends, but in my opinion, you never have to apologize for experiencing trauma and not knowing how to properly cope with it. Therapy exists for a reason, and trauma isn't something that you have to be ashamed of. Deities are very understanding and forgiving, and more than likely, they're not going to judge you for having potentially projected trauma onto them. In my experience, you have nothing to be afraid of.

If you're still unsure whether you are projecting trauma onto a deity or not, that's ok. Sometimes you never really get a concrete answer. When that happens, my advice is to move past the situation as best you can. You can give offerings to the deity and tell them, "I need to move past this situation with you because it is negatively affecting my mental health and well-being. When I am more stable/feeling better, we can readdress the issue," and take a step back from the problem for a while. It is more than ok to need space and time away from a deity or a situation to focus on your own wellness. If something is extremely triggering or upsetting for you, let your deity know, and take that step back that you need. You can always come back to the issue later, when you feel readier and more equipped to tackle the problem. Sometimes it just takes time for the issue to resolve itself, too. Either way, always prioritize yourself and your well-being.

Conclusion

It's clear that my stance regarding trickster/imposter spirits is simply that they aren't really a thing. This doesn't mean spirits can't be problematic (because they absolutely can), but I just personally feel that spirits aren't pretending to be gods. Spirits can certainly cause issues in other ways, such as messing with divination, causing you to feel uncomfortable/uneasy, or even being generally antagonistic towards you, but I don't personally believe they impersonate gods. It just doesn't seem realistic or worth it to me, especially when considering the fact that there will more than likely be massive consequences for such actions. It's more than ok if you disagree with me, but I'd like to ask that you don't reply to my post with an argument. This post is meant to give advice and share my personal thoughts, not start a debate about the existence of trickster/imposter spirits. To be completely honest, this is a triggering topic for me, but I wanted to make this post because I've seen so many new pagans and polytheists get discouraged or even straight up decline the opportunity to worship deities solely because they're scared of accidentally interacting with trickster spirits, and I want to reassure them by providing an alternative to out of character deity interactions. Plus, I haven't really seen anybody talk about this before, so I figured I'd hopefully shed some light on a topic that isn't usually discussed but is clearly a recurring issue within pagan and polytheist communities.

ANYWAY, thank you for reading this massive block of text! I hope it gave you some insight or at least a new perspective on this issue. Take care, and have a wonderful day/night! May your gods bless you, if you so wish them to. 🧡☺️

[inseasofgreen]

TOP 10 OF 2024

tagged by @thecomfywriter

used this website

Literally doing this made me realize how much i popped off in August and then slowly lost traction in October before absolutely scraps in November and December. Here's to hoping that changes in the new year 😔

10. Chapter 1 - Zemorri

I honestly forget this is even posted oop. It's the current first chapter in POTO but I already know it's going to need heavy editing as it includes someone *cough*ivyr*cough* who has once again been scrapped from the series. At lest from what was her role. That makes it two times for her for the same reasons. Ouch.

9. Writers tip 1037

Ah yes, one of my many shit posts. I made this as a way to kinda shame myself into writing - didn't work.

8. I'm a writer

Pretty sure my brain repressed the memory of making this. I wish it had stayed repressed because what in the actual fuck. Anyway yeah another shit post. I know it's not the last to appear in this list.

7. Failed ask meme

I say failed because current day tumblr doesn't know ask meme etiquette but no one's ready to have the conversation. Truly an L

6. POTO (re)introduction

It's not my current one but it is still good. I believe my current is the same with a few addons.

5. Blog Masterpost

Old and outdated. Though I prefer the pictures I used here over the POTO themed ones. But changes are coming so I'll probably be making a new one

4. OG POTO Intro

Outdated but seeing me list Zemorri first and Sciosa second really speaks volumes about how much I favor him over the literal star of the show. POTO has an ensemble cast so while there is no actual "main character" Sciosa is the most important to the plot.

3. Failed ask meme 2.0

I think this one did better than number 7 but either way I don't want to talk about it.

2. Calling all active writeblrs

I made this because I kept following inactive blogs but wowie didn't think it was going to get this much attention.

Shit post from hell

I remember this was Sciosa's doing and then only for Zemorri to come around and make me have to rewrite all of what I had. What really gets me however is that it's gotten so big. Bitch is still getting 5 notes every other day. Which is fine but whenever I check my notifications for tags or comments there it is. Haunting me.

I'm going to tag @willtheweaver @tildeathiwillwrite @drchenquill @rhikasa @winterandwords

[solar-wing]

Im sorry, but HOW DO YOU MANAGE TO WRITE SO MANY GOOD FICS WITH THAT MANY WORDS??????

Do you have any tips for anyone planning to start writing? Can you describe how your creative thinking works? Love your work!

my exact writing process:

going from left to right:

– stare at my computer, willing the idea/scene in my head to appear on the document in words while listening to whatever inspired me on repeat. – sleep after exhausting my creative energy in such a strenuous manner. – eventually, come back to the idea/story only to end up formating the story post (story cover, author's note, summary, masterlists links, etc.) and not actually work on the story itself. – EVENTUALLY, write something and feel proud of myself for all of five minutes.

– eventually, come back and cringe at the screen wondering what the fuck I wrote and how I even got to the point I'm at. – question who I am and what I'm doing while staring at the screen, attempting again to will the scene/story I'm imagining onto the screen in a DECENT format while also wondering how the fuck it got so long. – read a notification from one of you coronal mass ejections asking me when the story I've been ignoring for months is getting updated (rightfully so) – write with passion fear, because I know if I delay any longer, one of you CMEs will eventually unite the rest of you and start a mass riot.

– stare at the post after publishing it and refresh my screen every thirty seconds to see the likes, reblogs, and comments coming in. – sleep (very important step) – eventually, read over my own work after posting it, going back in to make edits after realizing I either have a duplicated paragraph/section or a misspelled word somewhere and it's bugging the hell out of me while trying to just ignore it. – look at my inbox/drafts, trying to decide what request/draft I should finally start/finish, until I don't do that and just end up starting a new random story after getting inspired from the most random thing.

and that's it (i'm so serious, it goes exactly like that)!

but, in more seriousness, there's three crucial things to my writing creative/process.

an idea that was randomly sparked from a song or likely another post I read somewhere.

a super-powered hyperfocused spawned from ADD (attention deficit disorder) that randomly turns on and off.

drafts that have been sitting in my Google Drive for months to nearly a year.

it's funny because I'm sure people have questions of how I'm pushing upwards of 30K word fics out back to back at times, and the whole time, I'm like "This draft has been sitting here and getting slowly added to since April."

One Kent Was Enough was an idea I got last year during the summer (2023), and the draft had literally been sitting in my Google Drive and Tumblr drafts for months. Like I'm pretty sure I had a draft post of it on my old account before it got shadowbanned and I made this one..

All that to say, my writing process is pretty organic to me. It's really a reflection of my personality and how I operate in real life. Though, I I'd doubt that a lot of the stuff I put in there is unique just to me.

As far as tips I would have, the first one would be don't expect to write like your favorite author off the bat. One, you're two completely different people with different personalities, styles, likes/dislikes, etc. Two, if any of you remember how Nightwing and Shadow first came about, then you know seeing where it's gotten now has been a process. I promise I did not just start writing like this.

But, the biggest tip I would give is to just write. I saw a music artist named Doechii say this in an interview: "I have the right to be bad at something when I first start." Like I said in my process, there are many points I will look back at my work and completely hate it. Sometimes, the stories won't make sense to you or you'll feel like you've just thrown a bunch a words on the screen. It's okay.

It adds to your process because eventually, you start to learn what works best for you and what doesn't. Also, the stories end up turning out to be really well-thought-out and good in the end. I'm not joking when I say One Kent Was Enough was a literal mess at multiple points, and many times, I had no idea where I was going with the story. I literally couldn't get past the scene where the boys meet their dads and the rest of the Team for months until I had a breakthrough.

you'll eventually find your own way. just start writing 💛

[soobrat]

this isn't whining, this is an explanation and a request for information. if not, I may not be active anymore

So recently I've become a more disciplined and driven person. If you don't know, I'm in college and I have a job. I've recently realized my dream and have set aside hours of my time to dedicate to it. I've also put more time towards things like skincare and exercise and meditation etc. Why am I saying this? Because after hours of productivity, I have a gap. Free hours where I don't have anything that needs to be done. This is where I decide to write for you guys. And every time I do, I wonder if it's a good use of my time. I wonder if I should use that little time for video games instead.

You are free to ignore this, but just being transparent, that makes it more possible that I don't log in again. I used to be afraid of addressing this head on as to not offend or upset you guys, but honestly vitriol and annoyance would be better than the embarrassing silence I'm met with. This isn't coming from high levels of emotion, I'm actually very calm and kind of excited to finally get this off my chest. These are just the facts of what's going on in my brain.

If you just want to know what to do to guarantee I'll stay, scroll to the bottom of this. If you don't care that much, that's cool too.

I'm working on Mosquito part three because I realize it's been much too long since it's been updated. I'm busy, but still. And I can't even have fun with the story I admittedly really like because the entire time I'm overthinking. You see, when a story doesn't get notes, that in itself isn't the problem. The problem is what's in between the lines. Did this not get notes because people didn't like it? Does this topic bore them? Do they not like idol/celebrity aus? And while I'm writing, I can't stop nitpicking what I think is causing the eerie silence.

I used to be spoiled. Fics like loosen up, brat/slut, oblivious were very well received. I would be reblogging feedback constantly, see notes fill up my notification center, I would get the message. I did take a lengthy hiatus and stopped updating as fast, but when I finally came back, people would never guess my follower count by my engagement.

Don't be fooled though, this number has been hovering around this for possibly a year, maybe even longer. It dips and then rises by a few and then dips again. Repeat. I started to think that this just wasn't a lot of followers. In the grand scheme of things, it ain't. But then I look on my dash and see a writer thank their readers for 300 followers. I click on their page and a fic they posted yesterday have ONE HUNDRED times more notes than a fic I posted several months ago. And it's not just a fluke, most of their fics are this way. People who have been writing as long as I have and have a similar follower count (I assume) have very high note counts as well. Some of them even have spotty posting schedules and have had lengthy hiatuses.

Again, I want to stress that this isn't coming from heightened emotions or jealousy. Honestly it's mostly confusion. Wondering if I did something wrong. The closest I've gotten to getting emotional is with the embarrassment. I see other creators get flooded with asks and response to their normal posts just talking about their day. And when I do it, radio silence. Again, this sometimes happens with writers with a fraction of my follower count.

I'll make a confession. I have been sending myself anon asks. Which ones are me? That's for sherlock holmes to deduce. Why did I do it? I've already admitted it, it's embarrassment. I feel embarrassed when I post something and am met with crickets. I honestly feel pathetic.

I am diagnosed with anxiety so I'll chalk up the following to that: I have come to the conclusion that I annoy you guys. Even that I annoy other writers since I don't have many writer friends on here. It's gotten to the point where I feel like every interaction I make with anyone on this website in any way is annoying someone. When I changed my theme and no one commented on it at all, My mind automatically went to "God the theme is obnoxious and embarrassing" and I already want to change it despite all the time I put into it.

Can you see now why I dread opening up Tumblr? I dread opening up docs of my fics for this reason. Idk how to transition so I'll just pivot to my next point.

My fics have a head scratching amount of notes. This started around when I posted Industry Babies and Amusement, when I was genuinely shocked by the lack of notes. I stopped Mortal Sin out of embarrassment because I posted a part and it only had ONE note for DAYS. Let me show you the best performing recent fic:

This is Mosquito pt. 1. I'm very proud of this! It made me so eager to continue the series. In hindsight, this is still a negligible amount of notes, and a chunk of these are ICYMI reblogs from me, but I'm still happy about it. Here's part two even with a lot of ICYMI reblogs:

I'll be honest, this was a head scratcher. This has barely budged since then, too. The message I ultimately received is that people won't read if there is 0 smut. Well? That fucking sucks because this is a slow burn fic! And honestly I don't want to throw in Soobin randomly fucking random girls just so people will read.

I also recently posted the final part of FUML. Final parts always get the most notes (I always assumed people just skipped to the last part which always perplexed me) and here's how that did (with ICYMI reblogs):

This is so so good and I'm so grateful. And it got a lot of notes very fast.

Now I did two requested fics, mind you this is the amount of notes they got with NO ICYMI reblogs:

Now, I'm about to say that this is pretty damn good, because I actually think so and I'm thankful for it. But every so often I kinda sit there and think about how it feels like I'm begging for pocket change. This feels so conceited and ungrateful of me. But remember, the reason why we're even talking about this is because my time has become a lot more valuable, and to be frank, the notes are making writing fanfics seem like a bad way to spend my time.

I'll be sad to go, but after all this, you have to understand while I'm hesitant to stay. I'd have to be a narcissist to think anyone actually sat and read through all this so I'll do a little TL/DR:

The lack of engagement has changed from a little disappointing to mixed signals being sent about what you guys want (hence all the polls)

The lack of banter and casual asks or just engagement to my casual posts has made me a little embarrassed compared to writers with similar follower counts or less followers

The simple act of not liking a post affects the overall notes and can harm the chances of a fic being posted, or send a message about what you want to see

I get the unreasonable feeling I annoy you guys and other writers so frankly it makes opening tumblr or interacting with this blog in any way just. not. fun.

I forgot to add this in the doc but to be frank (again), it kind of annoys me to see a fic get little to no interaction, and then I reblog a picture of an idol and all of a sudden my followers are acting. Juuuust being honest.

As a reader who doesn't want to see you go, what can I do?

Be honest! Now, I'm not asking for lengthy dissertations on why my writing is bad. I'm not looking for writing criticism. What I am looking for is for the people who are silent readers or just straight up scroll past what I post, tell me why. Don't be afraid to hurt my feelings. Is it my posting schedule (or lack thereof)? Is it because you just don't feel the same as you did when you read my older stuff? Or do you just never bother with pressing the buttons? The silence is worse than whatever you have to say.

Let me know that you always press like on my fics, but are just a bit shy and don't like leaving comments or asks. This is totally fine by the way, knowing you exist is enough.

Be more active from now own, reply to posts, send asks, reblog and just keyboard smash in the replies. ANYTHING is good. Don't take this as me scolding you, just as a suggestion in case you wanted to know how to help.

I won't be sending myself anons anymore (yeah... if you missed that, scroll up the the indented section) so if you see my blog in it's natural dead state, disrupt the deadness! You'll actually make my day.

If this flops, I'll still proooobably use my main acc. But honestly I'll probably just be on my poll acc (@kpolls ) because it's actually really fun lol. See you all on the flip side!

Mal