#and is no less important or better than you.

[fading-event-608]

URGENT: TENTS GETTING FLOODED, NEED FUNDS

Falastin's family is certainly not the only one affected by Gaza's recent heavy rains, but it doesn't mean they suffer any less. As you can see from the video, it's barely better inside the tent than outside it - and the floor is completely drenched.

Ever tried to sleep outside in a rain? It's not only sopping, dehumanizing experience, it's also painful because you get cold from the water and there is no way to get warm. Try to imagine how it is to eat soggy bread while you can barely move your aching from the cold hands. Try to also imagine to barely be able to sleep from the anxiety and constant noise, noise from the buzzing planes and drones and relentless dripping water. Try to imagine that you need to calm down your children, and come up with new lies every day - for why they are not in a warm home, why they don't have food to eat, why they can't be treated for their cold. Because the reality is so soul-crushing that you cant explain it to them - or if you do, they'd think you are punishing them. The reality is that Falastin was trying to raise funds for her 24 family members for evacuation from Gaza since late June and barely got 1% completed. She gathered 43,682 SEK (4,292$) which doesn't cover even one evacuation - but even without that the border is closed, they need money FOR EVERYTHING since none of them can work right now for obvious reasons. Not only they need food, water, medicine (especially for the flu which is in season right now), they also need more tents and waterproof material.

The reality is that you can help them right now, by donating some of you money. If you can give 100$, give 100$. If you can give 50 cents, give 50 cents. Not a cent will be wasted.

The next short-term goal is 6,000$ and Falastin really needs to reach it as soon as possible to keep her family alive.

Today's rates:

10$ = 101 SEK

25$ = 254 SEK

50$ = 508 SEK

100 $ = 1,017 SEK

Please, please, donate and share to wherever and whoever you can. Friends, family, neighbors, discord servers. Take it to your mutuals on tumblr, take it to the street, but please keep talking.

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THIS CAMPAIGN:

was shared by 90-ghost [here], and verified by el-shab-hussein [here].

is #282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here]

is #957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here]

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[foldingfittedsheets]

A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

[misstycloud]

Isekai’d yandere x f.reader

We’ve all heard about reader getting isekai’d into another universe and bonding with the characters, but what if it was the opposite and the yandere was isekai’d while reader’s just a background character.

————-

You were the mere daughter of a baron. You were pretty, yes, but nothing to gape in awe at. To summarise, you were nothing special. Then how come the heir of a grand duchy followed you around like a puppy seeking its masters attention? Especially since it was only the day earlier that he smitten with another young miss, who he’d declared with his actions was to become his future fiancée.

Yandere! Noble who suddenly approached you out of nowhere one day. You weren’t friends and had hardly ever spoken; to ask directions or work in pairs, perhaps. He was way too cheery speaking to you. It was completely out of character for him. Where did the normally stoic and unphased young man go? He was certainly not to be found here. No, this man chatted your ear off and did not understand that you wished to be left alone. It didn’t feel very safe anymore when all his admirers glared daggers your way. There was one you were especially afraid of. He was head over heels in love with her before. What has changed? You always saw them together and she was the only one he’d smiled at genuinely. Now he didn’t even spare her a glance.

Yandere! Noble who sought you out whenever he had free time. He wanted to accompany you in breaks between your classes at the academy, he wished to escort you to town and he even showed up outside your estate. His change in behaviour was puzzling, but not as much as the shift in his speech. What were these ‘bruh’, ‘sigma’ and ‘I’m cooked’? You didn’t understand any of it, no matter how much he used it around you. You suppose you were thankful he did turn it down a notch when in others company. You already had a hard time with it, you didn’t think it was necessary for others to suffer as well.

Yandere! Noble who had been shocked when they died and woken up in the world of their favourite romance game. They had read a lot of isekai novels but never once thought the thing was actually real. Wait, if this was their favourite game, then wouldn’t that mean that you were there too? Yes! Maybe they should thank Truck-kun for hitting them on their way to work. This was much better than any ordinary life a citizen could have. At first they thought they’d be stuck in the body of a villain or a side character, but they were pleasantly surprised to find themselves being the male lead of the game. He was rich, noble, influential and devilishly handsome. He had everything.

Yandere! Noble who immediately went to the academy to find you. When playing the game, they never found themselves attracted to the female lead, despite the fact she was modelled after the general population’s preferences. It just didn’t work for them. No, they liked you. Loved you even! It didn’t matter that you were nothing more than a simple background character. You were way better and cuter than any other love interest! You kept to yourself and didn’t have many friends, however you were still very kind and modest. On top of that, you were also an animal lover- exactly like them! The two of you also shared one other interest. They wanted to know if you shared more, but unfortunately the information on you was limited(not created because you’re not important).

Yandere! Noble who wrote an email to the game developers about how they should make extra content that should only feature new information and updates on you. They insist it would sell well(no one except them would buy). Sadly they never got a reply back. Rude ass company. Maybe they should’ve claimed mental health damage because the love interests were bad, so they could sue.

Yandere! Noble who couldn’t care less about the female lead. Unfortunately they got isekaid to at the point of the game where you’d have to enter a relationship with the female lead, that you could break off eventually if you wanted to chase after someone else. And sadly for her, you were the only option. The look on her face was laughable as they told her they could give rats ass about her and how they’ve found someone much better than her in all ways.

Yandere! Noble who then realised they were not bound by any rules. In a lot of isekai the person would have to follow some original rules at least in the beginning, but there was no system or points you needed to collect. They could do whatever they wanted. They had the power, the looks, the wealth and what they wanted was you.

There is no way you’d ever say no to a future grand duke, right?

[sencrose]

— READING BETWEEN THE LINES

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader

tags: dc, noncon, fingering, forced orgasm, pwp, use of pet names (sweetheart), suguru being condescending lol

wc: 1.4k

summary: Breaking up with Suguru doesn't go as well as you had hoped.

a/n: idk what possessed me ngl! writing warmup that got out of hand ig lol. dividers by @/adornedwithlight! ao3 link here.

This is always the worst part, the anticipation of the unknown. You dragged Suguru into a private corner of the monastery, stating that you needed to talk to him about something important. Part of you hopes he won’t notice that something is clouding your mind, but another part of you knows how perceptive he can be – of shifting eyes, a nervous shake of the leg. Anything he sees can be interpreted and used against you. It’s just too much for you, to constantly live under his judgment and surveillance.

Once inside the room, you ask Suguru to sit down in an armchair in the corner, because when he’s at a lower height you can convince yourself he’s not nearly as intimidating as he actually is. He almost looks normal when you look down at him. But then his amber eyes catch yours, and you feel like a deer in headlights.

Breath, hold, let it out slowly.

“I think we should see other people,” you say, nearly hushed.

Suguru takes a moment to pause, before looking up at you with a smile. It’s not the reaction you wanted.

“You think?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, “you wouldn’t do all of this to tell me you’re thinking of doing something.”

He’s right; you don’t like that. It only makes you uneasier, inhale shakily and exhale just as unstable.

“We should see other people,” you sigh, a knot tightening in your chest. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, opting to stare down at the ornate patterns on the carpet, anywhere but him.

“Where’s your spirit?” he asks, pouting and high-pitched, as if he’s talking down to a child, “you sound horribly unconvincing.”

You were foolish to ever think you would have an advantage against Suguru in a war of words. He’s always a few steps ahead of you, quick to retort any thought that takes days for you to mold and craft. Still, you do your best. This would be the last time anyways.

“W-we should see other people,” you repeat, attempting to sound resolute only for your voice to betray you, wavering like a tree branch in a windstorm.

“We both see plenty of people here,” he says, leaning back into the chair to sink into the fabric, his posture even more relaxed than before, “I don’t see why you dragged me in here to say this.”

For the first time, frustration overwhelms your nerves, swirls in your chest and manifests into something loud and impulsive.

“Suguru, I’m breaking up with you,” you blurt out. 

An uneasy silence permeates through the room, and you feel the need to smother it. Unfortunately, any semblance of a coherent thought, much less a sentence, eludes you.

“Tell me what you really want.” Suguru says, the first to break it. You start to think the silence was better.

“I am.”

“No, you aren’t. I know you aren’t,” he says so matter-of-factly you’re close to believing him, “say it again.” Suguru shifts in the seat until he’s leaning forward, hands intertwined and planted in his lap.

“N-No, you’re just messing with me,” you say, backing away from him.

“That should be my line,” he sighs, standing from his seat. He takes a step towards you and your heart trembles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just-”

“Nothing’s wrong but you want to break up?” he interrupts, crossing his arms as he glares at you.

“No, I mean-” you fumble your words, unsure how to mitigate the situation. Suguru takes another step towards you, and you take another one back.

“Mean what?” The corners of his lips upturn, and you both know he has you cornered.

You stand there, finally at a loss for words. Even if you were able to articulate your thoughts, you know that Suguru would twist them in his favor. 

“See? You don’t even know what you want,” he says, condescension dripping from his words before he softens his tone into something gentler. The way you would speak to a wounded animal. “But it’s okay, because I do.”

Suguru takes the opportunity to close the distance, taking your hand into his and pulling you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and you writhe under his touch, desperately pushing him away. But all you get is an arm latched around your waist, the sensation of your bodies pressed together in a suffocating heat. His lips finally part from yours, and you rush to turn your face away from his.

“Suguru, please stop,” you whimper.

“Why? You’ll just lie again,” he answers, his hand reaching for your chin to turn you towards him, “don’t you know how much that hurts me?” he asks, voice too sweet to be genuine.

You do your best to keep your eyes away from him, the only form of protest you can afford right now. He’s unphased by it, releasing his grip on your chin to lift the hem of your skirt and trace the undeniable wet spot on your underwear.

“And it seems like your body is more honest than your words,” he whispers dangerously low in your ear, as if it’s a dirty secret he had the privilege of uncovering. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction but you don’t have much of a choice. 

He pulls your underwear down, lets it fall unceremoniously onto the floor. Before long, his fingers find your clit and you wince at the contact. You bite down on your lips when he starts drawing lazy circles, not wanting to give him any more ammunition to use against you. 

“You don’t actually want to leave, do you?” he whispers sweetly, and it makes your breath catch for all the wrong reasons. His fingers slowly but surely pick up the pace, and it gets harder to choke back your moans. You attempt to maneuver yourself away from his touch, but that only makes him press himself harder against you, tightening his grip against your waist. 

“You’re just misbehaving because I haven’t given you enough attention, right? Then I’ll give you all the attention you want.”

“Suguru, please, I don’t want this,” you cry, and it’s nowhere close to convincing, too high-pitched and whiny.

“We’ve got to work on your communication skills, sweetheart. They’re a hallmark of a good relationship, you know. And I only want the best with you,” he coos, almost songlike. His fingers build up to a steady pace and you feel your muscles involuntarily tighten, prepare yourself for the climax to come. 

“We can even try it now. Tell me, how does this feel?” He slips a finger in and you writhe under his grip.

“Suguru, stop!” you squeal, tears forming in your eyes, making the colors of the room blend and blur together. 

“Don’t think that’s the right answer,” he says in that patronizing tone again, and you can hear the pout in his voice. As punishment he slips in another finger, and within moments he’s bullying the spot that has you crying from pleasure like he’s done so many times before. Your fingers grip around his arm, nails digging into his skin and leaving crescent indents in his skin, but Suguru is nothing if not determined.

“I just don’t see why you’d want to leave when I do all of this for you.” The arm around your waist finally releases, only for his other hand to trace the curves of your body until it reaches your clit. He starts building the pressure again, slow circles to contrast against the rapid pace of his fingers.

Your breathing destabilizes as your muscles tense up again against your will. You know you’re getting close, which means Suguru knows as well. 

“Let it all out for me, sweetheart,” And you do, body shivering and walls clamping around his finger like a vice. The rush of heat and pleasure running through you is too much, and you fall back onto old habits, closing your eyes and moaning his name like a mantra as he guides you through your climax. Suguru only pulls himself out of you once your breathing stabilizes, when you finally come out of your postorgasmic daze and the tears start running down your cheeks.

He gently holds your face, rubbing the tears with his thumb before laying a soft kiss on your cheek.

“If this is what you wanted, you should’ve told me. Spare me the theatrics next time, okay?”

[autumnmobile12]

I’ve explored this concept in previous posts, but basically, I have a headcanon that Rei, like Touya, is very high-energy, which often manifests in the same agitated fidgeting that her son does when he’s excited or impatient.

Since I don’t think snowboarding is a hobby Rei’s family would have allowed her to pursue under normal circumstances, it not being a very ‘lady-like’ activity, the story I have in my head is that one of Rei’s middle school teacher’s pointed out her energy to her parents and basically said,  “I think permitting her to do some kind of sporting activity would do her some good.”  And her parents told her, “Do whatever you need to do in order to sit still when you’re told.”

…

“Snowboarding.”

“What?”

“You said I could pick.  I want to snowboard.”

“Yes, but we thought you’d choose something less…dangerous.”

“You said I could pick.”

…

One of the important factors behind this headcanon is the idea that between her probably restrictive childhood and what ultimately became of her marriage, Rei's snowboarding years were the most freedom she experienced in her life and losing that part of herself contributed significantly to her downward spiral.

...

I also have the headcanon that even though Rei and Shouto have a very similar, calm demeanor, the words Rei doesn’t say out loud are just as snarky as Touya’s.  Only she was raised to be a lady and keep those thoughts to herself much better than he ever was because misogyny.

The result:  Touya is not the only crazy one in the family.

Snowboarding really be her only outlet here.

I also imagine after the Jaku City incident, Endeavor just wakes up in a cold sweat and all he can think is,  “Oh, crap, that’s what that reminded me of.”

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 18: Tears Unnumbered ye shall shed

So, we got here. But first, B&L get an epilogue.

First, a tidbit about reembodiment: B&L take their physical forms again in Doriath. I guess they go from Mandos to there in spirit. (It's all "allegedly", anyway). Everyone is happy and afraid when seing them (very reasonable reaction I think) and Luthien heals Thingol from (depression, more or less).

Melian looks in Luhien's eyes and is sad. She "realized they will be apart till the end of the world and after" (huh?) and again, we have Pengolodh's favorite stylistic tool: "nobody ever suffered more from any loss than Melian suffered then".

Oh, I found the quote in original: “But Melian looked in her eyes and read the doom that was written there, and turned away; for she knew that a parting beyond the end of the world had come between them, and no grief of loss has been heavier than the grief of Melian the Maia in that hour."

B&L go to Ossiriand, it vaguelly feels like they don't neet to eat anymore? But unclear.

Anyway, back to the proper plot Feanorians. Maedhros gained hope, because he saw Morgoth is not untouchable. He starts creating the Union, but the wording about him doing it … even without knowing the story, if I read it carefully, I would probably be worried about how it will go.

And we have a clear reminder of the Oath and all that. Orodreth doesn't trust the Feanorians because C&C (makes sense I guess) (Finrod would probably join the Union but anyway). Gwindor joins Maedhros, going against his king's orders… we know how this will end for Gwindor.

doriath. Mae&co had sent brash letters to thingol along the lines of "you will be our enemy if you don't give the Silmaril back" and Melian advised Thingol to give it to them! But he is angry at their tone and at C&C, and also B&L have suffered so much for this jewel…

Sidenote: If your main claim to a piece of treasure is "but I/someone have sufferred so much", keeping it is probably going to end badly.

Also thingol wants to keep the Silmaril, because it is this jewel's power…. wait what? "And every day that he looked upon the Silmaril the more he desired to keep it for ever; for such was its power." [original] WHAT.

Ok, that is new. So, the Silmaril is canonically addictive? Or is it only because it has been in Morgoth's crown?

So, anyway, Thingol sends Maedhros a dissing answer and Maedhros leaves him be, because the Union is more important. Yay, Maedhros, great job, you are doing well! (For now :((( )

Unfortunately C&C threathen Thingol with genocide, after they win the wart. Which they assume they will. So thingol fortifies and doesn't go to the war. (Mablung and Beleg go, but Thingol allows them reluctantely, so they end up better than Gwindor)

Bór! :) and Ulfang :(

Maedhros plays his hand a bit too early :(

Also, another mention of Morgoth's spies (plural) and traitors. So, I guess the fallen Men, enslaved Elves and shapeshifting wannabe-Saurons sabotage the Union as much as they can.

Battle, Fingon doubtful, problems, suddenly: Turgon! First good surprise of this battle (it will be a whiplash…)

The Noldor want to charge too quickly, but Hurin stops them, because he is wise.

Morgoth wants to kill Fingon especially. Why? Probably to break Maedhros. (Also, revenge for the rescue, maybe.)

Gwindor gets unlucky chance (that's what happens when you go to war against your king's orders, I suppose)

The Noldor get really motivated and almost win. Morgoth is trembling of fear XD as they bang at his door. This is pretty cool of them. But then they all die. :(

Another turn: the Noldor might have won, but Ulfang. :( [Maglor kills him and it's probably the only named character that we are told is killed by Maglor, which is interesting]

Also, Glaurung is there.

Fingon dies. Also, his banner is silver and pale blue, which I did not remember.

Hurin, Turgon, foreshadowing for Earendil. Maeglin hears it all, but does not comment, and he remembers it and I have no idea why the book tells us that, this line feels so odd. "Maeglin, Turgon's sister-son, who stood by, heard these words, and did not forget them; but he said nothing" It's apparently odd to more people because there's a reddit thread about it. huh, ok, makes sense.

So, Hurin is brave and great and I will need to make a post about how the story is an ecosystem and the benefit of one character's heroics sometimes lands to another character's lap and it's painful but also quite real. So. Hurin. But we'll get back to him later.

Morgoth is happy, because divides and betrayal and stuff like that. :/

Also this (Ulfang) is why the Elves don't like Men anymore (except the Edain).

Cirdan is besieged, allo we learn that there are Orcs who can use explosives, and orkish engineers and what not. Interesting. they destroy the ports, Cirdan&co escape to the sea and to Balar.

Turgon again sends ships to Valinor, again it doesn't work (again I suppose he didn't ask Ulmo about his opinion or ignored it), and we are told who kills those sailors: not the Valar. "Only one, Voronwe, was saved by Ulmo from Osse's wrath". So yea, it's the "not rebel, but not not-rebel" sea guy. Don't blame the Valar for this.

Turgon is the rightful king of the Noldor (says the book), Morgoth hates him, because Fingolfin, and because he's a friend of Ulmo, and because Turgon's vibe scares him. We have a wonderful line about how even back in Valinor Morgoth was anxious every time he saw Turgon and tbh this is criminally underexplored in fics (this whole period is) and must have been quite hilarious.

Hurin disses Morgoth, Morgoth curses him and his wife and kids, takes him high up, and curses him again for a good measure.

Results of that: in the next chapter.

[conditioned-to-obey]

Hi there🥰 excuse me while i speak the anon creed lol

I've been on your blog for a while, and I can't stop. I love all of your posts, and you have a gift for getting me wet at the most important times. But that's my flat for looking when I'm out and about 🤭🤭 I was just wondering how you feel about spanking? Really just the whole domestic punishment concept, do you like it? Do you have a favorite punishment (it doesn't have to be spanking hehehe)

I hope your having a lovely day so far and that it only gets better 💜

I enjoy it a lot, primarily using a belt.

However, in this house spankings are not punishment. When dealing with an insatiable little masochist—it's a reward. Scolding doesn't work either, it just results in less than dry panties. Scolding is a treat.

My words and the possibility of disappointing me alone are usually more than enough to keep pets in line. They want to obey and submit. And do so openly and enthusiastically. The general feeling surrounding my bonds are a place of safety, enjoyment and understanding that we aren't always perfect and that mistakes can be a learning moment.

Plenty of us have grown up in homes with angry men. I decided a long time ago my home would not be one of those places.

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

subconscious mind, divine power, awareness, you |

!Note: this post is not mine, credit to vanilla on amino! (The original post is here)

hello and welcome to my post! it's another "vanilla explain's" where i will talk about "you". what is there? what do you do? what is your job? how many important parts are there?

note: divine power = common term in the multiverse,describes something like "the universe" here.

     |Г table of content.       

                   i. intro.

                  ii. what are we.

                  iii. what's your job.

                       - part's of you.

                       - job's.

                       - shifting.

                  iv. "everyone shifts constantly".

                  v. outro.

                           i. intro.

our topic today is, surprise surprise, awareness.

what is that? what does it mean, and for what is it responsible? all things that i will talk explain in this deep detail post about what we actually are.

it's something pretty important in the multiverse and can definitely and overall in your general life.

what is there beside you? different part's with different jobs, taks, and abilities.

please make sure to read everything and to ask whatever you want to know!

ii. what are we:

from my post "comfort version's" an explanation what part of "you" you are:

"what are we? and no, we are not humans, we are not even human-like. in fact, we are nothing. we are, what is called, an "awareness". you are part of a huge construct that builds up the whole "you". that what you always are, were, and will be. you can not change it, you are the awareness and will continue to be it for the rest of your existence. but that's nothing bad! what does it actually mean to be an awareness? as an awareness you just live a bit, have fun, do whatever you want, that's your whole purpose. how do you do it? you, the awareness, are

aware of things. you are currently aware of the physical plane, you see it, hear it, smell it, test it, and feel it.

you are always aware, even in the void. the void is, as you can read here, your tiny awareness home.

so long story short: you are an awareness that is aware of things, nothing more, nothing less."

⁣⠀⁣⠀ ⁣so we, every single one of us, is an awareness. you read this right now, you are aware of it, that means you are the awareness. you are connected with the other parts of "you". the subconscious mind and the divine power (here often called "universe"). these are basically the two main part's (awareness + subcons) and the supporter (divine power) of "you".

it is like that in every single reality in the whole multiverse because it does not happen on the 3d, the physical plane. your subconscious mind and the divine power are living on the 4d, the reality. you, the awareness, are the only one that is supposed to be

able to live on the 3d. of course you can be in a reality where your subconscious mind is also a person, but the 4d is still it's home. like yours is the void state as an awareness.

iii. what's your job:

but what are you supposed to do? what are your responsibilities? what does your subconscious mind or the divine power? before we answer that question, we take a better look at the other part's of "you".

part's of you:

the subconscious mind: definitely the part with the most misconceptions! who of you heard the term "reprogramming"? everyone? delete it, now. the subconscious mind is the smartest and most powerful part of you with the most things to do, and it masters everything of it. all the time. it is so much smarter than you will ever be, it is pure perfection, not improvable. there is nothing to "reprogram". many here think of the subconscious mind like a useless baby, something you have to "train" or to "impress"and believe me, it laugh's itself to death- it knows more about everything. it knows you better than you do, your desires, your reality, that's also a part of it's job's. it is so powerful, constantly navigating your reality, it genuinely loves you and that will never ever change. you could hate it with your whole heart, be disgusted, angry, frustrated. and your subconscious mind would understand you, everything of it. it would still love you, take care of you, and your reality. there is no case where this could ever be different. but why is "reprogramming" so popular? easy answer, humans are human and need something to blame. no matter if it's nearly logical, the more believe in it the better.

it is already for a long, long time a thing so here we are to finally stop this nonesense.

divine power: the divine power, here often called "universe", is your subconscious mind bestie (second bestie after you of course), and also lives on the 4d. we all know by now that the divine power/universe is also not this weird thing that "decides" when you shift or not. for now you can think of it like a cheerleader. your own, personal

one job's:

subconscious mind: a lot. let's start with the basics.

it always knows everything, all your desires, all your wishes, likes and dislikes, interests, it's just the smart part of you. then you, the awareness, exist, and that means you feel, think, assume and all of them go to the 4d. there sit's your subconscious mind day and night and sorts every single feeling, thought, assumption you ever had, into the categories "is good" (everything that serves your desires, that you like and enjoy) and "bullshit" (every doubts, limited belief, negative thing, everything you don't want).

only the good ones get used in your reality. if you f.e. think that you want a dog, this thought will go to the 4d, your subconscious mind see's it, thinks "we like dogs", and then adds a dog to your reality. the rest, the "bullshit" category, get's instantly kicked out. like immediately. no limited belief, no doubts, no unwanted thought, feeling, or assumption get's even near your reality. they have no power, they are worthless, unnatural, useless. your subconscious mind knows that, remember, it knows more than you do so of course also what you do not want. don't worry about "every thought manifests", that is simply not true.

your subconscious mind does everything for your reality, that means to take care of the things that enter it.

besides that your subconscious mind's job is to shift you. it does it every moment. it does it your whole existence, no matter what. it edits your reality constantly, it changes, corrects it, all that shifts you.

and i mean that besides the things you do (blink, breath,moving, thinking, feeling, assuming) that causes you to shift. when i say "you rush through the multiverse" you can take it very, very literal.

divine power: it's your cheerleader, your lucky charm. while your subconscious mind is hard working at everything, all the time, the dive power is like a puppy walking around searching whatever you want. like "uhh, we liked donuts, and, a yes! the chair was pretty, HEY, DO WE NEED ANYTHING ELSE??" while attracting positive things. as you can see, very wholesome. that's all it does. its pure existence brings you positivity, nothing else is needed. it is also really, really powerful without even noticing. it keeps the constant harmony in your reality, and literally brings you luck on accident.

it is very adorable and loves to work with you and your subconscious mind!

awareness: so, what is your job? what are your tasks?

what is your purpose? nothing. not really nothing-nothing

but you don't have a "hardworking, constant" task like your subconscious mind for example. your job is to exist. that is all. no matter if on the physical plane or not, your existence is your whole purpose. besides that you just have to enjoy life, the physical world, explore, do whatever makes you happy. your subconscious mind and the divine power do not work for thin air. they work for YOU. they work for the awareness. they wanna make sure you are happy, safe, and healthy. if that's not the case, let them change it. you don't have any other tasks, any other jobs, you don't have to move a single finger. remember how often i say "your birthright is happiness, you don't have to earn it because you always deserve it, it is your purpose in life". that is exactly what i mean. if you wanna do stuff, experience things, do it. but happiness is your only number one priority in the multiverse. nothing else.

your job is to exist, that's all you ever have to do.

shifting:

you probably heard the sentence "shifting is not your job" from me A LOT. i think everyone understood the basic point now, shifting is a law, it's the reason the multiverse exists bla bla bla. but now imagine this is not the case, okay? you don't shift for some reason, it doesn't exist as ultimate right now. shifting is still not YOUR job. you do nothing at all, it doesn't matter if you attempt or not. even when you do, there is nothing YOU, the awareness, change. you lay down, do a method, this all does not shift you. you do not shift yourself. but what happens is, that your subconscious mind runs up and down on the 4d, screaming "WE ARE IN OUR DR, WORK FASTER 3D!".

even then, when YOU do the "work", when YOU attemp, when YOU spent your time with "shifting yourself", you do nothing at all, it is just your subconscious mind. if you say "i want to shift" or attemp for 3 hours, there is no difference. the same thing happens. you, the awareness, are not supposed to do anything. what's your job? right, existing.

now we also know that the need "to do something", is extremely human, it is normal, you can't help it. so attempt as often as you want, your subconscious mind will love to receive such clear, obvious commands.

but what you also see in this community, are people that get their mental health ruined because of the "failures". it is not bad to do nothing, it is not lazy, it is not "not caring enough", it is your job. don't make yourself responsible for something you have no control over.

imagine you shift on command, immediately, the same thing happens. YOU say "i want to shift", your subconscious mind hears it and gives a command to the 3d, the 3d changes. you still don't do it yourself.

and when the 3d doesn't change right away, like it's often the case here, don't make yourself responsible for it nor your subconscious mind. you two did everything you had to do, your job is done. no need to worry. so if you want to attemp, do it. but if it hurts you, it's nothing bad to stop.

even if you "give up", you'll still shift. in fact, you also do your job then. you just exist, that's all. just because you don't hyperfocus on shifting, it won't change ever. you will shift no matter how much or less you do, it is completely unimportant.

iv. "everyone shifts constantly"

in this part i talk about "shifting constantly", a thing we already saw in kaiotic's post here where they started to talk about the topic so you're probably familiar with it! we agreed it would be fitting to explain the detailed "how" behind it here

⁣⠀⁣⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀we shift constantly. everyone of us. and no, i am not talking about "shifting is a law", you probably can't hear it anymore. we shift, you shift, i shift, your mom. you saw infinite versions of your mom, but are they different? did you have a whole other mom than yesterday? did you ever know her?

i use my little bathtub example again:

every single being in the multiverse has their own bathtub. it is always the exact same. you have one, i do, your mom also. in every bathtub are infinite bubbles. bathtub = 3d multiverse, bubbles = 3d realities. we can be in the EXACT identical bubble, 100%, but you are in YOUR bathtub and i am in MY.

and we constantly shift in our little bubbles, still always in the same. and a rule that always applies

"3d's can not effect each other". that means, you don't know what my 3d is like and i don't know yours.

we will never know. you can't know if i have a pokemon, you don't know if i look exactly like princess diana, you can not know. so we live in the same bubble, with two different 3d's. you shift all the time, i shift all the time. yes, we constantly change but that doesn't mean that we are randomly not in the identical bubbles anymore. the "you" in

my 3d changes all the time, but i still interact with YOU. just because you think i have blue hair, i don't have automatically blue hair in MY 3d. they can not effect each other. so you continue to interact with your mom, even if she changes constantly in your 3d. you do the same in hers.

this is very important to understand. it is nothing scary, it is nothing weird. you always interact with the same person. it is exactly the same with you, you shift all the time too but does that mean you are randomly a different person? just because our 3d's change separate from one another, it doesn't effect us directly. you still read this post here, don't you?

and i wrote it. like i did it with my other 50 ones. we are both very real, very equal and valid. so please don't overthink this, most of you come to very

out-of-context outcomes, so don't complicate it even more please, do it for yourself you won't be happy with spiraling. just remember, you are real, i am, your friends, and they won't magically change.

v. outro:

i hope i could introduce you to some things you didn't know about before! what you are, the part's of you,

your job's. always keep in mind that the things you want will come, there is no other possible outcome, no matter what. whatever happiness means to you, you'll receive it. always.

Note from me: i wanted to share this post cause i just found it useful, and this lovely vanilla have many incredible post on amino, she literally have so much experience in shifting.

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Fics that feature chronic pain

This week we have 7 fics that include chronic pain, across a wide range of genres. Check them out beneath the cut, and comment or kudos if you like them!

The Fluffy Painkille by thesweetpianowritingdownmylife (6387, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes,

Frumpkin secretly visits Essek, Essek discovers Frumpkin's purring helps with his chronic pain.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Lacuna by Sangreal (94811, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Torture

Essek is captured and tortured by the Dynasty for his crimes, losing his memory and magic. It is a long road to recovery.

Reccer says: I love this fic and honestly it's one of my favorite depictions of Essek with a permanent disability. The story is super engaging too.

Something To Believe In by AwesomeFroggy (108948, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Where Caleb is a librarian, Essek is exiled to Nicodranas, and Jester (as ever) is ready for shenanigans

Reccer says: The thing about self indulgent fics (and this one states that it is one) is that they tend to be written with so much love and comfort that it makes the entire fic better. This is definitely one of them

the handbook of touch by Anonymous (2481, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek has chronic pain. Caleb helps him by massaging his hands

Reccer says: It's hurt/comfort and intimacy and hands - it's great!

Coping Skills by eldritchmochi (251061, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Modern with magic AU, Caleb and Essek are both involved in the local kink scene and meet there, they also know each other from work, smut ensues.

Reccer says: I liked it!

a winter's crest detour by jaskofalltrades (22873, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

Essek’s less than anticipated Winter's Crest plans to spend the holidays with his unwanted fiancé get off to a rough start when his flight is rerouted to the middle of nowhere. He winds up trapped with fellow strandee Caleb, who manages to turn Essek’s entire world upside down and might just change Essek’s life for the better.

Reccer says: This is one of my comfort fics. It's like sipping a cup of hot cocoa while it's snowing outside.

Girl, Interrupting by Defiler_Wyrm (1902, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Jester casts sending at the worst possible time and blows a secret wide open!

Reccer says: It's short, sweet, hot & funny all in one neat little package. The chronic pain part isn't made a huge deal of but it's given space to be important.

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. 

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring dancing! Whether that be ballroom, pole or anything in between

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

This week's list was also the 69th unique theme! (nice)

[playmiya]

LIKE A BOY — CYBERPUNK!SUNA cw: description of murder, violence, alcoholism & drug mentions / takes inspiration from cyberpunk: 2077 and cyberpunk edgerunners

suna stares at the view in front of him. night city is a giant, glimmering monster of neon from his perch on the rooftop of this abandoned skyscraper, one of many that dot his line of sight. flickering holograms advertising everything from subway passes to nightclubs rapidly flash, and the sounds of whirring trains and cars surround him in an endless cacophony. the stench of acid and smoke from the factories mingle to create a toxic blend of air that only a true citizen of the city would be able to withstand.

he hates it. he hates it all so much. if there was a world where the clouds, instead of raining sulphur, rained lighter fuel and he could ignite a matchstick just to throw it off this building, he would set night city on fire in a heartbeat.

he's certain he's losing his mind. he doesn't need to be doped out on glitter or teetering on the edge of cyberpsychosis to feel the way he does. every couple of weeks, when the endless slashing and maiming and killing gets a bit much, when he conflates the face of his previous target with the next, his head gets a bit blurry. his hands seem to be perpetually dirty — and scrubbing them to no end, like that germaphobe sakusa — does nothing to clean them. he's overcome with the urge of slitting the throat of anyone within five feet of him, if that'll make him feel better.

the price of devotion to inarizaki must be quantified in blood. it's a mandatory tax he needs to pay, a burden passed down from his father from his grandfather. a burden that's becoming increasingly difficult to pay in a city where every next target is more metal, and less human.

suna can only do so much with his hands before he either sees them as weak or splattered with blood from different beings.

peeling off his shirt, caked with blood and damp with sweat, he wonders what he's doing here instead of trudging back home in japantown.

the click-clack of your heels crunching through broken glass and discarded syringes up the stairs reminds him. if suna's a loaded gun waiting to be fired, you're both the trigger and the safety.

he supposes the only reason he's still somewhat who he was and not some mindless lapdog for the gang is thanks to you. the princess of arasaka, set to inherit their pharmaceutical empire, playing anchor for someone who'll always be second-best in inarizaki. he's so beneath you that it's pathetic. he sometimes thinks he has a better chance of building a stairway to the moon than seriously being with you.

and yet, here you were, rushing out of whatever meeting your parents had trapped you in, taking the godforsaken subway that you'd normally never step foot in, climbing up three flights of stairs in heels that would cover a week's worth of bounties, just for him.

your perfume greets him before you do. it's a delicate floral number he knows you only reserve for important days, so he feels just a little guilty, until your cold hands come to settle against warm, bare skin and he can't think at all.

"hi," you breathe, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. your nails — is that a new set? — adorned with pretty flecks of chrome mixed in with pink glitter gently graze against him, and he can't help but melt into your touch.

"hey," he mumbles in response, bringing one large, calloused palm on top of yours. there's a low magnetic hum from where your ring meets his, and they clink in a comfortable sound as you join him in dangling your legs over the edge of the building, content with resting your face in the crook of his neck to watch over his shoulder at the neon cityscape.

"long day?", you whisper, not wanting to disturb him. truthfully, he thinks you could start screaming about a new dress you ordered from paris and he'd still be grateful to just have you there with him.

"mhm." you shift, just a little, so you're now sitting next to him. he does look a little worse for wear than usual, and you can't help but feel the dull bubble of anger that consumes you at just how tired he looks. he rests his head on your shoulder, and the smell of copper and smoke is a heady mixture that envelops you. you don't budge, not one bit, even as he's sweaty and dirty, and every instinct of yours is screaming at you to return to the boardroom you're supposed to be in instead of bailing and spending the night at a polluted building on the outskirts of the city with a man who'd otherwise make light work of killing you and claiming the millions of eddies that are set on your head.

fate is at its best when it works in diametrically opposite ways.

you run a hand soothingly over his arm, concerned every time about the new scar he's picked up just underneath his elbow.

"wanna talk about it?", you hesitantly offer. you know the suit of events like the back of your hands.

"no," he mumbles, and he nuzzles closer into your neck, fanning the juncture near your clavicle with his hot breath.

"not even a little?", you ask again, feeling his eyelashes flutter. how can be so pretty, bathed in the ugly, harsh glow of pink and purple light even while exhausted will always confuse you. suna was so achingly pretty that you were scared. scared of how you'd respond when he'd ask you to stay, just for a little longer, like he always asks you on nights like these, nights that turn to daybreaks being spent in his arms.

he strips away any rationality you hold. he knows that. you don't know for how much longer you can keep giving in, but that was a worry for another day.

"no," he grumbles again, and his grip on your waist tightens. you giggle at his petulance.

"i think it'll make you feel better."

he may be fatigued beyond words, but he can spare you one of his trademarked dramatic sighs, a sign that there's still the suna you know so very well underneath the layers of the complicated, messy, dangerous persona he has to maintain.

"work today was.... shit," he exhales, thinking of the hostage situation he'd been forced to mediate. a mother being held at gunpoint by her husband, who'd been driven into a deep state of cyberpsychosis after embedding a militech chip into his brain. a chip that suna, who was originally supposed to recover it quietly from new harbour, had to retrieve by sifting through the splattered brains of mother, daughter and husband. that's what the husband gets for fucking with what isn't his. the mother and daughter, though, were collateral damage that hit a too little close to home for him.

"then i went home and that was shit too," he laughs harshly, finding perverse amusement in the irony of his life. rei was all out of her chuupets, and that led her to hiding out in her room and crying for dear life as his dad chose the literal worst time to come home drunk, bitching and yelling to his mother about yet another day spent in miya senior's shadow and how it was all her fault.

the old-fashioned yet highly modified katana suna uses, engraved with the prophetic words of the gang, we don't need the memories, felt heavy in his hands as he chose to run away from home and bury himself in a pile of bodies. he shouldn't have taken so many commissions on, but he did. all to make him think of anything but the broken bottles and rei's wails as he carried her in his arms to kita's place, where he deposited her for the rest of the day.

"do you think i'm a coward?", he asks you, because you're the only person who knows who he truly is, what he truly is, and still decides, every day, to be with him.

you study his amber eyes, so observant despite what they let on. it's not even a question worth asking.

your lips are on his before he can even anticipate it. it's sweet, and desperate at the same time, like you're kissing frantically him so any doubt can disappear from his brain and he's only thinking of you. you're soft, and he can taste the cherry of your gloss when you part your mouth to let out the quietest noise of contentment that he drinks up when his hand creeps up the short dress that hits just right at your mid thigh.

it takes a phenomenal amount of self-control for you to pull away and not kiss him senseless. he's clearly disappointed, and groans when you rest your forehead against his. how you manage to flip his switches so effortlessly will always bewilder him.

"you're perfect. you've never been a coward, and you never will be," you breathe, and for someone who has to measure their words and consider the weight of all their actions as a part of a grander corporate scheme, you find yourself unrestrainedly honest with suna. it's difficult not to be. you kiss his forehead gently, and suna thinks he's going to explode at just how saccharinely sweet you are to someone like him.

"you're too fuckin' good to me," he sighs, lacing his fingers through yours. "too good for me," he adds as you let out a hum of disapproval, beautiful face scrunching up into an annoyed expression.

"should've never bought you that drink," he chuckles wearily, reminiscing about the day he decided to shoot his shot at his deskmate at the academy when he'd spotted you at manhattan's bar.

"you never should've said yes," he grouses, but he doesn't mean it.

"stupid boy," you chide, flicking the same spot of his forehead where you'd just kissed him. the remnants of your gloss are still there.

"you know you're going to buy me a drink in every universe. and i'm going to keep saying yes."

a/n hello hi sorry if this was a bit ,,, dreary but i promise i'm going to make this fun, i plan on doing a little cyberpunk sunarin miniseries because i'm missing the show so much :( also i know suna's ooc in this but i love making my men a little pathetic <3

[saiintofdiirt]

Summary: Parrot and Wifies have a talk some time after the fallout of Parrot finding out Wifies is a clone. A follow up to Ken's POV in Part 1.

notes: this is once again not edited, this was the result of some quick writing last night and a wrap up today. it's more like practice for Parrot's voice which i think i did a shit job at but it's here and u can now judge me urself. enjoy. or dont idk. divider from here

word count: 2568. just slightly less than the previous installment.

11:49

Parrot has picked through his feathers so many times he thinks he’s developing a bald spot in his left wing. He's usually better at waiting, has patience for his plans to go through, but today there is no plan, just waiting. He stares at his comm, open in his hand as he rereads the chat over and over again.

[Wifies]: Would you be open to talking with me today?

[Parrotx2]: yes

[Parrotx2]: of course

[Parrotx2]: what’s up

[Wifies]: I was actually wondering if we could meet up.

[Parrotx2]: yeah wherever you want

[Wifies]: I’ll open up my world.

[Wifies]: How does noon sound?

[Parrotx2]: perfect

[Wifies]: I’ll send you the IP then.

[Parrotx2]: great!

Great! He sounds like a loser.

So Parrot is waiting for the clock to strike noon on his comm to go. Part of him wonders if he's going to spawn into a pit, or straight into lava, or in an escape room, something that would make Wifies feel better to watch him go through after the hell Parrot raised. Parrot would be fine with that. Honestly, he hopes Wifies is mad. He's only going to feel worse if he's met with Wifies’s carefully thought out words and blunt kindness.

11:54

He stops touching his wings. He's been trying to organize his thoughts so he doesn't say something incredibly stupid to Wifies again. There’s a script now.

I’m sorry for reacting so harshly, I was shocked and didn’t know how to process what I was hearing. I felt hurt because I thought you didn’t trust me with the truth, but now I see why you wanted to keep it to yourself. I should have never acted that way. You’re so important to me, and I should have thought about all the trust between us. I always trust you.

11:55

It’s simple, but it’s straightforward, and he wants to be as clear as possible. He also wants to be sincere, but sincerity is scary. His sincerity is blue, bruised, gushes forward like an open wound and stains the world in his blood.

11:56

But he can do sincerity. He can do it for Wifies. He could probably do a lot for Wifies, but Wifies never asks for anything. He didn’t even ask to be freed from the chunkban. He just waited. Trusted Parrot, and waited for Parrot, and was happy to see Parrot after everything. Wifies is always trusting and waiting and happy.

11:57

And Parrot ruined it for what? Catharsis for his fears? A moment to let that horrible feeling of being second, third, fourth in someone's life tear through everything he’s done? Is that even the reason why?

11:58

God. When Wifies starts asking questions, Parrot is going to crumble like a house of cards. It'll be Parrot's unjust luck to be forgiven.

[Wifies]: IP XXXXXXXXXX

Parrot jolts and almost drops his comm. He scrambles to copy the IP down and flick through his comm settings. He pastes it into the server IP box and hovers over the connect button.

12:00

He clicks connect.

Landing softly onto a carpet of podzol in a chilly spruce forest, Parrot lets out a plume of ashen breath. There are a few cabins in a semicircle in front of him, warm light spilling out of each window and from the branches of the towering spruce trees. The afternoon sun barely breaches the canopy, but it speckles the ground just enough to give the world a surreal atmosphere.

There's a campfire pit to one side surrounded by log benches, and there sits Wifies. He looks brilliant in the firelight, dark hair loose without his headband and violet eyes muted.

“Parrot,” Wifies calls out as he stands up. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Parrot says lamely, hesitating for a moment before making his way over to Wifies. The campfire warms him up, but the chill doesn't go away. “How are you?”

“It’s going to rain soon, so I’m feeling it in my joints,” Wifies says, lighthearted as he rubs one of his shoulders. “Sit with me.”

So Parrot does. He’s not in the business of denying Wifies much of anything. He sits on one end of the log bench, and Wifies sits two feet away, turned towards Parrot, and Parrot looks at him, and his mind just— it blanks. His script dissolves like salt in the sea.

“I wanted to start with saying that I am a clone of the original Wifies,” Wifies says, giving Parrot space to try and reboot his brain. “He was. . . making clones for the sake of content, and I was the most successful one. I never knew. And one day, Ken showed up to what I thought was my single player world, and. . . it’s a very long story, but he got me out of there and we, um, we killed the original. He. . . wasn’t going to let me just leave. And those are the main points of my story. I just wanted you to know the important bits before we talk further.”

“Clones for content,” Parrot echoes, eyebrows scrunching up. “Clones for content? He was— what?”

“Making clones to put them into escape rooms for quick video production.”

“The— what the fuck?”

Wifies smiles awkwardly, but doesn’t speak again. He keeps rubbing his shoulder over and over, self soothing maybe, or maybe it’s just that painful from the onset of the rain.

“I'm sorry for how I acted. I don’t care that you’re a clone,” Parrot says, flinching at his own sharpness. He looks away and into the crackling fire. “I care about you. The clone stuff is— is whatever. Or not whatever, I’ll care about it as much as you want me to care about it.”

“Parrot, don’t make me promises you know you can’t keep.”

Wifies’s voice is gentle. It is so, so gentle, with no hint of disappointment or scolding. Parrot’s stomach churns. He wishes again for Wifies’s anger, pointed and cold, instead of this. Anger is easy. This stings like salt in a wound.

“Why do you think I can’t keep to that?”

“Not knowing drives you crazy.”

“You not being there has driven me more crazy.”

“Until you forget, and it starts bothering you again.”

Parrot deserves it, but his heart is heavy and he feels like he’s been shot right through it. Wifies isn’t even being cruel, just honest; he’s right, eventually it will drive Parrot crazy to not be able to talk about the whole situation, to understand Wifies better by prying into his life.

“I don’t like talking about it. It was a bad time for me. I also don’t know everything about. . . myself. About what you’ll eventually ask.”

Parrot has to physically bite his tongue. Wifies doesn't know everything. What if he gets sick? Or badly hurt? What if he starts feeling like something is wrong, and there's nothing to be done for it, because nobody knows? What if—

“This is why I never want to tell anyone,” Wifies sighs out, curling in on himself in the corner of Parrot’s eyes. “If nothing else, just promise me you won't tell anyone?”

“Never,” Parrot says firmly. That's a promise he can keep. “I would never.”

“Thank you, Parrot.”

Their conversation tapers off. The sunlight is disappearing little by little, the promised rain clouds rolling in from far away, far above. Parrot’s feathers puff up a bit at a slight, churning breeze that cuts through the forest.

“I'm sorry, for what it's worth. For lying this whole time.”

“I see why you did. I just ended up proving why lying was the right choice. Nothing to be sorry about.”

“It's funny,” Wifies says in a voice that promises to be anything but funny. “When I'm scared, everything hurts again. I can never remember how they got here, but all the little pains come back again, like the reminder of fear should pull a memory or two up. But there's nothing. I don't remember how I hurt my shoulder this badly. I don't remember how it got fixed. All I remember is that it’s hurt forever. I don't remember a life without pain, and when this all came to light, my reality went from a life where pain existed to a life that was lived with pain.”

Rain begins to dribble through the leaves around them. The campfire hisses and sparks but doesn't extinguish, too large and hot to be daunted by such a pathetic display. The canopy is too dense for the rain to punch through in earnest.

“What are you scared of?” Parrot forces himself to ask. Please don't be afraid of me.

“Losing another part of my life to this. I can never seem to escape the factory. What a lousy escapist I've become, huh?”

Wifies pulls his feet up into the log, resting his chin on his knee and watching the fire. Parrot doesn't remember turning towards him, but he inches closer. The space between them is too large. His hand is too far from Wifies’s own.

“You don't have to lose anything,” Parrot says. “There's nothing to be lost. You can always come back to the server. Nobody there will ever know except for Ken.”

“No matter how this plays out, I lose you.”

“I'm right here. I'm right next to you, right now, what do you mean?”

Parrot feels pathetic, but he doesn't care. Wifies won't look at him, is talking about losing him like Parrot isn't about to crawl out of his skin just so Wifies won't leave him again. The rain thickens the air around them with the promise of more force, and Parrot stretches a wing over Wifies’s head without a single thought.

“You'll always think about the fact I'm a clone. I lost my status of human. I lost our relationship. It took so long for me to feel normal, and now it's all gone.”

“Wifies, look at me please.”

Wifies does. He does, because he still cares, and Parrot is going to be sick at the resigned look in Wifies’s eyes. Parrot is close enough now, so he reaches out and holds Wifies’s face in both hands. He can feel the way Wifies’s jaw works, the thrum of his slow heartbeat in his throat, the way his breathing is shallow and quick. His eyes are a little glassy, a little red, and Parrot adds another wretched tally to the list of times he's made Wifies cry.

“No matter what, you are human, okay? To me, and to Ken, and I'm sure to whoever you were talking to that day as well. Don't ever doubt that.”

Wifies’s expression softens and he just barely nods, which is a small relief for Parrot.

“All I ever think about when you're gone is when you're coming back,” Parrot says. His sincerity bleeds, red and blue smudged across each word. He’ll bleed for them, every drop if that’s what it takes. “And all I've been thinking about this whole time is how I'm going to make it up to you. How I really, really want to do whatever it takes for you to stay. I want you to stay. And not a single one of those thoughts had anything to do with whether you're a clone or not.”

Wifies breathes in. It shakes something horrible. Parrot will crawl his way back into being trusted until he has no more body to move with.

“All of those thoughts had to do with how you've always been with me. Funny, kind, snarky, quick, the only person in this world I've ever been able to close my eyes next to knowing that I've got everything I need right there. That the only way I'll ever be apart from you is by being torn. And none of that, none of it, has changed. I still think all that about you. All that's been added is that I'm an asshole who definitely doesn't deserve your loyalty, but I'm too greedy to let it go so easily.”

That makes Wifies giggle, the sound wet and cracking. Parrot presses the pads of his thumbs under Wifies's eyes. If he's going to make Wifies cry, the least he can do is clean it up too.

“The only thing I ever need you to do is believe in me,” Parrot says, pressing his lips to Wifies’s forehead. It's easier somehow to speak like this, wetness pooling against Parrot’s fingers. “Believe that I love you so much. Believe that I'm going to make this right between us. Believe that learning this has done nothing to change how I feel about you. And if you can't, please believe in me anyway.”

“Of course I believe in you Parrot,” Wifies murmurs, voice crackling. “Why else would I follow you everywhere?”

“I'm that persuasive?”

“Hardly.”

“Hey, not even a little?”

Wifies laughs. It’s a sweet sound. When Parrot pulls back to look, Wifies has his eyes closed, and he’s not quite smiling, but he’s not frowning either, which is a win. 

“You’re determined and direct,” Wifies says, letting the full weight of his head loll into Parrot’s hands. Parrot raises his other wing so they're encompassed by green and red and blue. “Which is what made me agree to help you at first. But then. . . I don’t know. You can be charming when you want to be. Not often, but on occasion.”

Parrot squawks indignantly just to hear Wifies laugh again. Wifies blinks his eyes open, and Parrot wipes away a stray tear.

“Do you know how touchy you are?” Wifies asks suddenly.

“Should I let go?”

“No, I just wonder if you know that. When you were upset, you made a real effort to not reach out. That’s how I knew it was serious.”

“Well, now you know it’s not serious.”

“Mm, this is serious too in its own way. You’re serious that you want me to stay.”

Parrot lifts Wifies’s head so that they’re eye to eye, bloodshot violet to his own green-blue blur, and says, “Deadly serious. I don’t want to be separated like this again. Knowing I had hurt you and couldn’t make it better? The absolute worst time of my life, I think.”

“It sucked,” Wifies agrees, finally cracking a smile. “It’s over now though. I think.”

“Of course it's over now, you're never allowed to leave me like that again,” Parrot scolds him entirely lighthearted and Wifies snorts.

“Don't yell at me again and I won't.”

“I won't, I'm sorry for yelling.”

Wifies laughs again, and despite the fact he's clearly reveling in having Parrot wrapped around his finger like this, Parrot can't even pretend to be annoyed. Wifies won't leave him again. It's all that matters right now. Any question or doubt dies a quiet death when Wifies reaches up to hold both of Parrot’s wrists in a loose grip.

“This is weirdly nice,” Wifies says, closing his eyes again. “I don't think anyone's ever touched my face so gently. I can't remember the feeling.”

“You just say when,” Parrot replies.

He's not being entirely selfless here— there's something soothing about running the pads of his thumbs over Wifies’s skin, like a promise that this moment is as real as when he left. Wifies can't leave him when they're like this, tangled up under Parrot’s wings under the rain.

“Then for just a bit longer,” Wifies says, and Parrot agrees. Just a bit longer.

[wsdanon]

hello shotgunners fans take another little thing of some of them… (Felps and guaxi, but if you’d like to think about it the absence of Matt speaks volumes. or something…)

fic is based on a moment from the first clip in this little video I posted. Felps does actually die to the centipede a little after and then texts Guaxinim to ask for help retrieving his items

reblogs appreciated, hope you enjoy \o/!!

Felps wakes up in a bed. Which is already a red flag in of itself, but is quickly forgotten in favour of the fact he feels like shit. Cold burrows in his bones while heat lathers his skin, nausea broiling in his stomach with a pounding headache to top things off. 

There’s someone with him. Maybe. In this bed which is definitely not his bed because he doesn’t have a bed yet. 

A low light hovers on the other side of his eyelids—necessary for him to get any answers, but already irritating with the shield that closed eyes offers. 

He shifts, and groans. His body aches. More than aches. The person with him cups his face and gently taps next to his eyes—an obvious request that he doesn’t want to comply with, but probably should. 

He lets his eyes open a slit and sees Guaxinim’s face in front of him. That’s good. Someone familiar—someone he trusts with almost all the important things. 

Another tap to the side of his eyes makes him realise they’ve slipped shut again. He blinks rapidly—trying to keep them open—and Guaxi’s hand disappears from his face to take up his vision instead. 

“Felps—are you okay?” He signs. 

“No.” He groans out, not entirely sure where his hands are and not willing to risk shaking his head. 

“I found you passed out while mining.” Guaxi explains—too much information for right now, really. “You sent me your location asking for help, remember?”

“No.”

“I think you were poisoned.” 

And whatever else Guaxinim says, Felps misses, as—with another groan—his eyes slip shut again. 

Poison makes sense. He feels poisoned. He remembers something—big, and scary, and painful. It’s a little hazy. He was bitten? 

The blankets are too warm, Guaxinim is too warm… but at the same time Felps tries to burrow closer. Maybe if he overheats enough it’ll stop the shivering in his bones. 

He tries to protest as Guaxinim pulls him away and sits him up, but his limbs are heavier than he can work with, and Guaxi is easily strong enough to move his dead weight. It would almost be attractive if Felps’ skeleton wasn’t trying to shake itself to dust. 

Guaxinim says something and Felps can’t even attempt to lip read. He’s pretty sure Guaxi laughs, though. 

He’s propped up in a corner, Guaxi’s hands gently resting his head back against the walls. 

“You’re so out of it.” Guaxi signs, before signing a small laugh as well. Then he tucks the blanket around Felps again. “I asked Matt to find some milk, so I’m going to go get it from him, okay?”

Why can’t Matt just come here? He doesn’t want Guaxi to leave. And Matt’s warm. Matt’s so warm. Warm in Felps’ chest—with an uncomfortable itching accompanying it, sure, but that must be better than this. Matt could fix this, surely. 

“I didn’t want to leave you alone, you know?” Guaxi pauses his signing to briefly cup Felps’ cheeks and press a kiss to his forehead. “But Meiaum just got back, okay? He’ll keep an eye on you.”

And sure enough, Meiaum walks into his line of sight. Him and Guaxi talk for a moment, then Guaxinim leaves and Meiaum joins him on the bed. 

“Cold.” Felps murmurs out. 

Meiaum frowns, and leans closer. Asks him to repeat himself. 

“I’m cold.”

“Oh! Hm…” 

He looks around—presumably for another blanket—and, finding nothing, decides to tug Felps closer. 

He’s worse than Guaxinim at moving Felps—which is probably less about strength and more about not knowing how to move him—but eventually Felps is tucked against his side, his head resting on Meiaum’s shoulder. Meiaum pulls the blankets around himself as well to get them closer, then wraps an arm around Felps’ shoulders. 

It’s a little better. 

It’s better enough that Felps drifts back to sleep, at least.

When he’s woken up again, a glass of milk is shoved in his face. 

He blinks hazily at it. Not entirely sure what to do.

“Drink?” Guaxinim signs. 

And okay, sure, he can do that. 

The blanket is tugged down, which is not appreciated, but at least his hands are freed. And this time he even feels like he can move them. So, with shaky hands he takes the glass—although he can tell Guaxinim still has a hold of it. 

At the first sip he’s already feeling a little better. Which gives him the motivation to finish it. 

“Feeling better?” Guaxinim asks. 

Felps signs a yes. 

“Nice!” Guaxinim smiles—wide and pretty. “That should take care of the poison, at least. And I already bandaged your wounds, so don’t worry about all that, okay? Now you just need to rest up.”

“Okay.”

“Here. Let me help you lie down.”

Guaxinim waits a moment for him to protest, before doing just that. Meiaum—who was asleep? Maybe?—shifts to lie down behind him, while Guaxi cuddles up against his front. 

It’s a bit of a tight fit. At the moment, at least, Guaxinim’s bed is not really made for all that many people. But Felps is too worn out to worry about any discomfort. 

And it is kind of nice, anyway. Comforting. Scary cave creatures—a giant centipede, he can remember it a little better now—can’t hurt him while he’s tucked between these two. 

So, he takes Guaxi’s advice and lets himself drift off to sleep again. 

——

Hope you enjoyed \o/!! Matt is not allowed in their secret base yet sadly

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Better Off - Bernard DeMarco x OFC - Chapter 12

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

AO3

Summary: Susie returns to Thorpe Abbotts following the loss of DeMarco

Warnings: more angst :)

Word Count: 2.6k

Tags: @xxluckystrike @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @mads-weasley @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy @justheretoreadthxxs @blakelysco-pilot

Thorpe Abbotts was quieter than Susie remembered it when she finally returned - her two-week-long disappearance drawing to a close - Meatball's leash around her wrist, a suitcase swinging back and forth in her other hand. When she'd arrived on Beatrice's doorstep, she'd had scarcely more than the clothes on her back, but in her sister's eyes, she would've been remiss to let her leave without at least a new pair of shoes to replace the worn out old boots on her feet.

The crunch of gravel split the evening quiet as she headed down the road towards her hut, each breath practised and purposeful. Susie could already imagine her bunkmates' sympathetic frowns, and they made her want to vomit. She had endured enough of that from her family - those knowing stares, imagining how she must have felt the moment they'd pulled her sister's battered corpse from the rubble - she didn't need that from these people too, these people who knew her less and could only speculate more.

Meatball's nose knocked against her leg as she fumbled for her key, prying open the front door and trying her best not to drop anything. Her efforts were rendered futile, however, as Maeve crashed into her the moment Susie stepped inside, sending her stumbling back a step in surprise.

"Oh my god," She huffed, throwing her arms around her. "Don't scare me like that again!"

"Who are you, my Ma?" Susie almost chuckled, awkwardly bending to put down her bag so that she could hug Maeve in return.

"For a while, she thought you'd been kidnapped," Charlotte shrugged as she crossed the room to join them. Seizing the hand on Maeve's back, she gave it a reassuring squeeze. It was the only acknowledgement of her reality that Susie could stomach.

"And you did nothing?" She teased half-heartedly, peeling herself away from the embrace. "Remind me to never come to you two in an emergency."

Maeve chuckled at this, and opened her mouth to speak. But her words fell on deaf ears as Susie's gaze locked upon her bunk - the sheets clean and freshly changed, a big metal box sitting at the foot of the mattress.

"... What's that?" She asked slowly, cutting off whatever had been said.

But she knew what it was, really. She'd seen a footlocker before.

Charlotte stared at the box with a saddened frown. "It's his."

Susie's brow furrowed. "They're supposed to ship it to his parents."

"He asked them to give it to you."

That was something far heavier - far more real - than she'd expected from him. But perhaps this had always been who DeMarco was. Susie had certainly gotten used to avoiding the truth of him to spare herself from something as wretched as feelings. If only she'd been any good at it.

They took the leash from her without a word, and she tossed her suitcase aside as she reached the bed, staring down at the box, the initials 'B. A. DEMARCO' stamped upon the lid in thick, black letters. To look inside meant more than simply opening the thing. It meant accepting the importance he had imbued upon her by leaving it to her, this token of his identity.

Susie wasn't sure how long she simply stared at it, listening to the thump of her heartbeat as it drummed in her ears - but when she looked up, the room was empty.

The hinges squeaked as she flipped open the lid, swallowing hard at the collection of belongings stuffed inside, scattered in an organised state of chaos that immediately struck her as so quintessentially him.

Tucked neatly amongst the letters and photographs was a folded sweater, and atop the scratchy wool lay an envelope. Susie didn't know his handwriting well, but there was no doubt that this was it, for across the paper were scribbled the words 'To be read by Susie Lamb'.

Her hand trembled as she reached for it, tearing clumsily at the flap until the envelope was practically ripped in two. She'd never seen her name written in his hand before, but the moment she read it, it was as if she could hear his voice echoing through her head, as if he were sitting right beside her.

Hiya Suze

If you're reading this, that means I've gone down - which is unfortunate, to say the least. Hopefully I'm alive in some stinking Nazi prison camp somewhere, but even that's a pretty sad thing to be hoping for.

Either way, if I know you I know you're probably thinking that I'm a goddamn idiot right now for giving you this box instead of shipping it back to my folks. Which is suppose is fair, but I've decided there's some stuff I wanna get off my chest first, and I don't need my Ma reading all this.

I love you, Suze. I don't know if I'll have told you that by the time you end up reading this, but I hope I have. I also don't know if you'll feel the same - you're like if a brick wall had pretty hair or something, so I'm not even gonna try to guess what's going on there. If you don't, feel free to burn this, and I've left my folks' address in here somewhere so you don't have to keep all my shit. But please do me a favour and at least finish reading this thing first.

I think you're the best person I know. I literally can't think of a single other person that I'd trade over being with you. I know that you think deep down you don't really deserve to have people who care about you - I know you feel especially bad about how much I care about you, cuz you're kinda mean to me, but you should know that I never take any of that stuff personal. You're mad about a lotta stuff, but if I ever helped make you feel better, even once, then I think this whole thing has been worth it, really.

You told me once that you're not very pretty, and I swear it's the closest I've ever been to having a full-on goddamn stroke. When I saw you at Charlotte's wedding today I could barely look at anything else - I don't think I heard even a quarter of what that priest was saying. I think you think there's something ugly or broken in you, but Susie I need you to know that I'd happily spend the rest of my life proving to you that that ain't true. Even when you're grumpy or mean or you tell me to shut up (which you do all the time, and I think you're mostly just deflecting) you're never gonna be able to stop me from wanting to be here with you.

There's a chance we'll see each other again after you read this. If this whole thing is coming off as stupid then do me a solid and pretend you never read it. It's very late and I've had a lot to drink tonight. And I don't think I'm very good at being charming even when I'm sober.

I have no idea what's gonna happen to me, but I think a part of me feels okay because I know that no matter what happens up there, you're gonna be safe down here. And you're gonna be okay. I know you hate that you'll never be the same as you used to be, but you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. I've only ever met this version of Susie, and I don't think I've ever loved someone better.

I'm yours, Suze, whether you like it or not (although I know you'll tell me to fuck off if you don't, and I promise I'll listen). I don't know how to close this out with anything except that.

I'll see you tomorrow, but I hope future me gets to see you soon too.

Benny.

A teardrop landed upon the end of his signature, the curl of the 'y' blotted beneath the saltwater. Susie hadn't even realised she was crying.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw something, break something, because how dare he leave her like this? How dare he make himself so essential to her - give her a place of sanctuary only to tear it away again? Her mind was reeling, stumbling to catch up with everything he'd written, to fully comprehend that someone out there had written these words down and truly, earnestly meant them.

It was hard for Susie Lamb to believe that a man like Bernard DeMarco could love her. But he always made it sound so easy.

'When I saw you at Charlotte's wedding today...'

That had been the night? That day of all days had been the one - the one that clicked something for Benny, that made writing this letter seem all at once of utmost importance. The night she had been judged 'not the marrying type' - too abrasive, too cold to ever be loved and give love the way Charlotte could.

But he'd seen it. He'd known her better than the rest of them, and to him, she was worthy.

Susie never could've written something like this. The admission made her stomach hurt.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Crickets chirped noisily in the grass as a cool afternoon breeze brushed through her hair, sending shivers down her neck. Holding her cigarette to her lips, Susie took a long, deep breath, reaching a hand into the paper bag in her lap. The fields appeared so much larger when she was alone.

"Hey," Charlotte's voice echoed from behind her, clutching her own lunch as she clambered down the grassy slope to meet her. "Mind if I sit?"

"Yeah, sure," She nodded, mouth full as she took a bite of her sandwich.

Charlotte grunted faintly as she crouched down to sit beside her, wedding ring catching the light even beneath the gloomy layer of clouds that hung above them. Susie didn't look at her - just buried her cigarette in the wet dirt, extinguishing it as she sniffed loudly.

"You'll be okay," Charlotte stated after a while. She could feel her stare.

"Not something I've been known to deal with very well."

A pause. "... You mean your sister?"

Now Susie turned, eyes wide and watery. "What d'you know about that?"

Charlotte shrugged. "I know something happened to her. I assumed she died. We've all seen the photo you keep in your truck."

"That's none of your fucking business," She spat before she could think better of it, regretting the words as soon as they left her. Charlotte was unphased.

"You're allowed to make it my business. You don't have to do all of this shit on your own, Susie."

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood as the skin split.

"We've been working together for over two years, it wouldn't kill you to let me in some time. Like you did with him."

"Don't," Susie squeaked, little more than a whisper. "I don't wanna talk about him."

"You should. It'll feel like shit until you do."

"It'll feel like shit anyway. Talking about it just reminds me of all the stuff I should've said to him."

"... Like what?"

"Like I loved him," She sniffed again, wiping her eye with the ball of her palm before the tears that were forming could fall. A half-eaten sandwich was clutched in her hand, but she found she'd lost her appetite.

Charlotte let out a huff of almost-laughter. "Oh, he knew that."

Susie's brow furrowed, the weight of her frown twisting her entire face. "I don't think so. I was bitchy and stubborn, and-"

"Susie." Her voice was soft yet firm, and it shut her up immediately. "He knew that. Everyone knew that."

Her vision had blurred through the tears, an involuntary gasp of laughter escaping her. "You think?"

"You two weren't as subtle as you thought you were, m'love," Charlotte grinned. At this, Susie began to laugh - chuckles coming soft at first, before they began to shake her shoulders, expression contorted beneath the weight of her smile. But somewhere along the way the tears had slipped in too, guffaws slowly giving way to sobs, and before she knew it she was crying against Charlotte's shoulder, tugged closer in a sideways embrace.

"You're gonna be okay, Susie."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was an unusually cold day, even for November, the stink of oil still thick in the air from where the mechanics had burnt it away the night before, tyre tracks cutting through the wet sheen left by the rain across the tarmac. Susie reached for the flask of tea in the passenger seat, taking a long sip as she let the warmth soothe her throat, filling her up from within. Letting out a breath, the air fogged in front of her face, condensation steaming up the windscreen.

"Heya," Maeve chirped as she stepped up to the window, fingerless gloved leaving her fingertips cold and pink as they drummed against the metal, a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck.

"'Ello," Susie greeted in return, passing her the flask without ever having to ask. "Y'alright?"

"Yeah. Bevan says we're gonna need to get a new .50 caliber in for the Riveters, though."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

Susie sighed, scrounging around in the glovebox for a moment until she found her notebook. "Might take a while. I'll probably have to make a special trip for it."

"I'll come," Maeve shrugged, the suggestion giving her pause. The girl had occupied Susie's passenger seat countless times, but it still felt like his.

"Alright, sure. Thanks for letting me know."

Flashing a smile, Maeve began to walk away, almost skidding on her heel as she did a double take, reappearing at the window fast enough to startle. "Oh! By the way-"

"Jesus Christ."

"- Post came in this morning when you were out. Left yours on your bed."

"Fab. Thanks," Susie nodded, engine roaring as she stirred it awake, the truck shuddering beneath her as she pulled away.

Maeve hadn't been wrong - as Susie returned to their hut a few hours later, a pair of letters were sitting upon her pillow, unopened and untouched, waiting for her to receive them. She gnawed absent-mindedly at the inside of her cheek, tired from a day's work and barely paying attention as she scanned the addresses etched upon the envelopes.

The first came from one of her sisters - Sally or Nancy, although she could never quite tell their handwriting apart, nor could she remember their addresses without checking. Sucking her teeth, she tossed it onto the nightstand, a wordless reminder to read it later before she went to bed.

The second gave her pause.

The envelope was far more battered than the first, corners dulled, ink smudged in places. For a moment she'd suspected one of her brothers - perhaps Ronnie's musings from whichever French town he was currently billeting in. But she knew his writing, and this wasn't it.

Nevertheless, it was certainly familiar...

Brow furrowed, Susie let her curiosity seize her, clumsily tearing at the envelope until the folded scrap of paper came free, unfurling in her palm.

Hiya Suze

The opening line hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from her lungs until she couldn't breathe, until she felt ready to keel over and vomit across the polished floor.

She wasted no time with the letter's contents - they could wait for now - her eyes scanning immediately to the end of the page. A choked sob tore free from her throat.

All my love,

Benny

[egg-emperor]

I don't reflect on it much now but it's times like these where I get harsh reminders of how bad of a year 2022 was and realize how far I've come

Becoming the target of harassment and slander due to a combination of my Eggman creations and then being blamed for my abuse after learning the reasons behind it was really hard. I almost died months before that campaign even happened because I was in a terrible place anyway and some knew and still hurt me and made it worse. They made me regret surviving for a while. And if I expressed how hurt I was by it all, I was called manipulative

I lost so much in so many ways and had vile things said about me and my abuse and if it wasn't for the real friends and the lovely followers and anons who stuck by and supported me, I don't think I'd still be here. I was still acting out in terrible ways online for a while after because I was in an absolute awful place mentally due to irl and online struggles. There's a lot of deleted posts and DMs I regret but I genuinely wasn't thinking right for months, my mind was genuinely fucked

I developed some bad habits that I haven't fully recovered from and fluctuate between how bad they are but I'm glad it's one of the only things left to work on. The stress, anxiety, and depression of 2022 worsened my health issues a lot as last year I started experiencing increased fainting and other physical health issues. At that point I realized I needed a change for my safety and health. For a while I didn't even feel like I deserved to be helped so it was hard but I finally did it

Now I'm getting support with bills, going to doctor and hospital appointments to look into my disability for diagnosis and hopefully to be helped, I have a therapist I just started with. I'm personally not an SSRI meds kind of guy so I've been doing every other method to recover instead. I've also made a ton of progress mentally on my own with my mindset, it's far less of a negative and angry place than it was then. I manage how I deal with setbacks better, I don't feel like I'm back at square one when things get bad now

I spend far less time thinking about what happened or letting their negativity consume me. There's been a few times since where parts of it have come back up and it's been challenging at times but I can handle them more rationally and be the sensible level-headed one and assure that I don't go back to that place. It's okay for me to be hurt by it and realize what happened to me was wrong but I don't let it haunt me every moment anymore. It's no longer the first thing I think of when I wake and last when I go to sleep

And I've realized what really matters and what's really important to me. The passion and joyful expression of the things I love and all the great people that are still here that I have the delight of getting to know and talk to. There's still a lot of challenges coming up in the future but I'm happy that it has nothing to do with everything back then. I want to express myself and my passion and never feel the shame they wanted me to. I want to get better. I finally want to live. I have hope and believe better times are ahead

And I'm very grateful for everyone who is warm, kind and supportive of me along the way. I appreciate everyone who is accepting of me and make me feel like I finally belong somewhere. Thank you 💜

[friendly-emerald-emily]

with my recent posts about molly, i'd like to make this one a space to share molly-specific head canons! i'll start with my own :3 - molly's desire to be seen as special and important could stem from the history of her class, the GER S46. they started out as the eastern's premier express passenger class, but were being phased out of those duties starting in 1911, being demoted to less important passenger services, to then goods trains until the final 4 of the class were withdrawn in 1960.

- adding on to the previous point, molly also wants to desperately prove her worth because she fears being withdrawn from service, but her shyness prevents her from asking for help when she needs it.

- molly doesn't necessarily mind doing goods work, in fact pulling long heavy goods trains is a better show of her sheer strength (which it's canon that she's very proud of), but her insecurities rear their ugly heads when other engines start making passing remarks about goods work being inherently lesser than passenger trains.

- molly's shy and sensitive nature does make her very emotionally intelligent, and is one of the better engines to turn to on emotional matters, her sensitivity gives her a nasty habit of holding grudges. she is willing to forgive though, if she believes whoever wronged her made up for it - i imagine molly would get along with neville pretty well. i'll try to keep this point as molly centric as i can, but in my personal headcanon molly and neville are the epitome of 'similar, yet different'. while both are large, introverted tender engines, they differ when you look deeper. molly's self esteem is usually good when she's on her own or feeling confident, but it starts to crumble when others tease or, or she feels she has to try harder than usual to prove herself. neville, on the other hand, typically struggles with self-esteem because of how often he experienced bullying based on his looks (his irl basis was nicknamed 'the ugly duckling' poor guy :() and his self-view is usually only raised when he gets a genuine compliment. molly can hold grudges, however neville doesn't; he'll gladly accept anyone who's shown him any kindness...which can lead to him being a fair bit more naive than molly. - molly is a good judge of character. no one can really explain it, but when the usually sunny molly starts getting cranky around someone, you best believe that engine is up to no good. - molly and emily are sort of frenemies. they have more in common than they realize, both are eager to please and are proud of what they're capable of...it's just emily tends be louder about it than molly is. (also, emily doesn't make that comment at the beginning of molly's special special in my world. it's out of character because emily doesn't usually tease anyone without being provoked first). emily and molly may not like each other very much because of their different personalities, however they both have a mutual respect towards one another for being the only large female engines that are willing to get their hands dirty and haul long heavy goods trains - molly is friends with murdoch, but she finds him hard to be around sometimes because of how much of a downer he can be -molly's favorite holiday is easter. she enjoys the warmth of early spring and fun, bright colored eggs. -conflict stresses molly out because on her old line, many of her steam colleagues had plenty of verbal sparring matches with her old controller begging them to be kept in favor of the newer, often diesel, engines. in general, heated arguments dig up ugly memories for her - despite her deep-seated insecurities, molly is actually an optomist and tries to make the best of negative situations. - when it comes to mixed-traffic engines, she's easily one of the most skills when it comes to expertise on both passenger and goods trains, owing to her extensive working past in both fields. she's very capable in both and is one of the engines on sodor that gets herself into the least amount of accidents.

-molly has a good relationship with trucks. her gentle and patient nature actually makes the trucks quite fond of her, the fact that she doesn't bash them around or lose her temper with them alone is more than enough to make them respect her. - molly secretly has a large penchant for gossip. she never partakes in it herself, but she is curious about the happenings of other engines. murdoch is a good source of gossip, because of his quietness he often becomes a fly on the wall, but the trucks are always telling her about frustrated engines blabbing about how much they dislike another. that's why when big news starts spreading, molly usually has very little reaction to it. she already knew.

[assemblyofoddities]

"Everyone is entitled to their own opinion." No, they're not. They aren't entitled to respect when they take it away from others. No matter what anyone's beliefs may be, if they impose them on another person in a way that harms them, dehumanizes them, or strips them of their dignity, they no longer deserve dignity in return. If someone doesn't treat you will respect and dignity, even in the case of opposing beliefs, they no longer deserve, or should have, your respect and dignity, and vise versa.