#and then they make a friend and then they make a way for themself to finally be able to fit in and be accepted

[toscapringle]

I feel like Killing The Cop In Your Head is a gateway/slippery slope towards child neglect. I'm gonna look at this through the lens of younger kids, but it applies to teenagers too. Kids need structure, such as routines and norms. Our own society has rules and norms to keep us happy, like drive on the designated side of the road and wait at the stoplight. Rules in our games so you dont get cheated on unfairly and people don't get hurt.

Kids need to be told "don't do that or you will get hurt" cause they genuinely don't realize they will get hurt/hurt someone else. You can see the genuine surprise and remorse on their face when these things happen. In the same way you can get physically hurt, you can also get emotionally hurt/emotionally hurt others.

I get the above situation, mind ya damn buisness and all. In that situation, kids will be kids and they're just having fun. But if there's a sign that says "no skateboarding" what are the potential consequences they might face for skateboarding in that area? Is it just angry mall tycoon pissed that his stairs don't look perfect? Or is it more serious? Are they old enough to deal with those consequences? Are they fair? (Is letting a 12 year old make the decision to drop off a huge drop without any protective gear, and the only guidance in that decision is from his/her same age peers ethical? Hell no, they could injure themself for the rest of their life. What about legal ramifications, if a cop sees them are they gonna be dealt with inappropriately? Better you say something than cops see it. Better to let their parents know and have them go home safely than have them be brought to the station, if you believe your local cops are unethical.)

You don't have to prove your political views as more progressive than your friends for clout by not teaching your kids how to be safe and just letting them learn from consequences that are way too serious. When they don't know how to deal with a situation, lend them your brain so they can learn how to think more critically.

Tldr; Sometimes rules are a suggestion written in blood. We have a duty to look out for those who can't factor in how serious their actions are yet.

a big part of Killing The Cop In Your Head that even a lot of ostensibly progressive adults absolutely do not want to do is controlling the urge to judge children at every opportunity. like oh are some kids hanging out skateboarding in the No Skateboarding Zone at the park? it becomes your business if one runs over your foot. otherwise shut the fuck up. and not just outwardly, you need to tell the critical voice in your head "actually this harmless moment of someone else's everyday life has nothing to do with me and no one has asked for my opinion"

[capybonara]

I have waited a long time to write this. I have actively resisted writing this, hoping that, given enough time, it would no longer be necessary. I’d hoped that, given enough time, people would move on, that my own anger would subside.

But they have not moved on. My own anger has not passed. A dear friend of mine by the name of Werewolfsister was horribly treated, and she faced a constant wall of passive aggression to the point that she had to leave entirely.

Both parties have had their say. Now I will say mine. And you might think “Oh god, just let it die,” to which I reply “why are a select few allowed a platform while others are scolded to oblivion?”

I was a third party to this situation who found out, almost as suddenly as my friend, that my presence was unwanted. So to those who publicly picked or “““didnt pick””” a side, I saw a lot of hate towards the friend I do support. And I don't care for it.

With werewolfsister's permission, I am making this a partner to their post. I am not as organized in telling events down to the date, but I am confident in my ability to provide proof where it is necessary.

I’ll start with the basic accusation: Tumblr user kenneduck has claimed that werewolfsister forced them to adapt their trauma into the latter’s comic, Labor of Love. Further, the accuser has claimed that a majority of the story, including a majority of characters, by default including my own, also belonged to Kenneduck.

From her October 12, 2024 post:

With that, let me turn to my own perspective. Let me preempt this by stating that the following information is from my own private conversations with kenneduck. Whether she has shown this information to others or dispensed with it entirely, I do not know. Screenshots supplied will also be the only ones I post out of respect to kenneduck, as the conversations they stem from were often extremely personal.

In mid-September, kenneduck approached me on Discord, stating that they and werewolfsister would work on the comic separately. Werewolf would continue the main story, and kenneduck would be given space to draw specific scenes for Kenne the Zora in a way they saw fit.

By this point, werewolfsister had gone on multiple breaks, preemptively announcing that they would not be speaking to anyone during them. This caused kenneduck to worry, at which point they came to me conveying their worries. I assured them that it was likely simply stress from working on the comic, possibly complicated by other factors we did not know at the time. They then confided in me that they worried they were the cause of pushing werewolfsister away. Kenneduck then informed me that their (kenneduck’s) desire to include personal experiences via Kenne the Zora was taking a toll on their (kenneduck’s) own mental well-being.

I was told by kenneduck themself that Kenne the Zora was given a particular backstory to help process their (kenneduck’s) thoughts on a real life event. When kenneduck disclosed this connection to Kenne the Zora, werewolfsister explicitly decided they could NO LONGER draw this character, as it was so closely tied to something so personal. As explained by Kenneduck, this comic separation was a compromise: it was meant to give kenneduck the freedom to process this event in their own way.

Kenneduck informed me that their (kenneduck’s) circle of friends agreed with werewolfsister’s decision, and that they (said friends) had asked kenneduck to step away as this was causing kenneduck to over think on the matter. Kenneduck informed me they (kenneduck) had not realized they were putting werewolfsister into this situation by having werewolfsister draw Kenne the Zora in the comic.

Upon learning this, I made the offer to speak to werewolfsister on kenneduck’s behalf, and encouraged them to reach out to werewolfsister as well. Kenneduck declined both plans of action, which I understood at the time as it can be scary to perform either one.

I then attempted to do a wellness check on werewolfsister, pointedly avoiding any information kenneduck shared to me. At present, I wince at the timing, because the day after this, werewolfsister announced they would be leaving the zora Discord we mutually participated in. This is no one’s fault: when under high stress, you gotta do what you must to take care of yourself.

Near the start of October, kenneduck approached me a second time, during which I still had no news to relay to them. Armed with slightly better understanding regarding why the comic split was occurring, I encouraged kenneduck, saying that werewolfsister was not acting out in anger.

^ Context: the “drama post” in question was werewolfsister responding to other people’s demands for greater representation of their own characters and insinuated charges of favoritism. Kenneduck made their own post to back werewolfsister up; to the best of my knowledge, this post has since been deleted. The only posts of its former existence are Werewolfsister's comment in their original post and an exchange between Kenneduck and I.

^ Context: I relayed that werewolfsister wasn't replying to comments I made on their page either. I suggested that werewolfsister’s lack of activity wasn’t out of spite, as they queued their pages up most of the time.

^ Context: We discussed what kenneduck’s friends told them about respecting werewolfsister’s decision to split the comic. Kenneduck made a few posts in our group chat at the time, apologizing for over-sharing personal information. This was one of the instances of kenneduck explicitly saying in private, to me, that they were adapting their own trauma for Kenne the Zora and the comic.

Everything I learned about werewolfsister's decision to split the comic came explicitly from Kenneduck. Kenneduck had nothing untoward to say about werewolfsister in these conversations.

Nothing else was said on the matter. Our last exchanges were quite positive; we shared pictures of our cats, they showed me an awesome Bluey plush, and she was sharing progress on a Sidon/Link/Yona piece they were doing. Kenneduck expressed -- what I thought at the time was -- genuine concern for Werewolfsister. Kenneduck also discussed going on their own break to think on how to approach Kenne the Zora's role in the comic.

Days later, I found an announcement via reblog from werewolfsister that kenneduck would not be completing Kenne the Zora’s section of the comic. This was understandable. Werewolfsister then announced they would continue the story, and do their best to do so without shining light on those issues that vexed kenneduck.

Then a switch flipped.

This is when Kenneduck made their post accusing werewolfsister of forcing Kenneduck into using their trauma. All of a sudden, werewolfsister never ASKED for their permission, and that they needed to take the comic down because her trauma was on full display.

Werewolfsister was not the only one blocked and removed. I was also removed from kenneduck’s friend list on Discord. Werewolfsister later discovered kenneduck’s side of their chats were deleted. I assume that's why I was removed as well.

This has been extremely upsetting, especially considering everything was kept private until kenneduck spoke up with a different story. Worse, when werewolfsister spoke up in their own defense, suddenly they were the bad guy for “making this public”. They were blocked. People told them they were no longer allowed to draw their OCs. Someone came to me to insult them, warning “Your characters are going to get ruined too!”

It's not cool.

None of this is cool.

Before this accusation, I had nothing negative to say about kenneduck. I had sympathy towards what they were feeling, and encouraged them to be cautious before sharing personal information. As I said to kenneduck at the time, communication between the two may have helped, but the decision was done. Werewolf's decision to separate the comic did hurt kenneduck’s feelings, but kenneduck themself acknowledged it was for the best as it was for the sake of their mental health and safety. I was given the impression kenneduck accepted and respected werewolfsister’s decision.

From this:

To this:

And one is always welcomed to change their minds. You should always be safe to revoke your consent on something. However, Kenneduck made the decision to broadcast to a public audience with a story entirely different from what was shared with me in private. I don't use this phrase lightly: they weaponized their trauma against werewolfsister.

And it worked.

Werewolfsister has been ostracized ever since. I've suffered blowback myself. Since then, werewolfsister and I have talked about doing our best to press on, but the atmosphere has changed. People who followed or even interacted with us have changed.

It sucks.

Folks prefer to keep quiet and avoid drama. That’s fine when it involves discourse on shipping or which characters are loved or hated. But this deals with deeply personal issues brought into the open, and the actions have affected actual people's lives.

If anyone wants to point fingers then point them at me.

Werewolfsister and I spoke more often after kenneduck made their accusation. They’ve stressed over how to finish the comic. Whether they were going to get more hate for doing so. If I was going to get more harassment just by associating with her. In the end, it was my suggestion that werewolfsister continue the rescue arc of the story. I suggested they either make kenneduck’s characters unrecognizable by darkening their silhouettes OR replacing them with new OCs, but I felt the latter might be disrespectful as it might somehow be interpreted as erasing Kenne the Zora’s presence. I helped write parts of Denouement and gave ideas for the epilogue’s ending.

I say this to waylay any more opinions of how werewolfsister was erasing or ruining specific characters because yes, with months separating their last cameo, werewolf STILL received requests to “no longer” use other players’ OCs as though they’re going to twirl their mustache and ruin said characters for all time.

If you're reading this, I'm not here to stir the pot. This is why it's under a cut: if you're reading this, it's because you chose to.

I'm also not telling people to pick sides. People will follow who they want to follow. That's their prerogative. Kenneduck will live their life and I hope they heal. They will find more friends, who I hope they treat with more kindness and honesty than they did werewolfsister. People will have their opinions, and you can't change minds with posts like these.

But people got hurt by this. Malicious intent was directed at one person, and others followed the example they set.

To anyone who follows me, who has made the decision that werewolfsister is a liar and a manipulator, unfollow me as well. Block me. I don't want anything to do with this two-faced behavior. If kenneduck says what werewolfsister did is true, why haven’t they said the same of me? I was literally in the middle of this.

^ Here I am, spitballing with kenneduck about how Kenne the Zora might be affected by the plot!

Here are other moments where I'm sketching with kenneduck about how Kenne the Zora’s traumas may be affected by the plot! 

Exactly as they did with werewolfsister! How is this any different?

Should these conversations have been kept private? Absolutely, and before kenneduck loosed their accusations, they were. But you can't announce neutrality in something you're not personally involved in, then treat one side badly and act all morally superior because yOu’Ve DoNe A sErViCe.

I originally thought I could keep neutral by staying quiet. I can't, because it would be wrong of me to. People have treated my friend like some villain who is chomping at the bit to destroy their OCs ever since this was made public. For six whole months werewolfsister has been doing free gift art without so much as a thanks from the majority. I am so angry about that. People were excited about receiving her, again, FREE ART - then a public statement by the recipient of six months of free gift art soured the joy of gift art altogether, subjecting us to an atmosphere of “You can't use my character because you'll ruin them! It makes me uncomfortable!”

You know, I’m not just upset at kenneduck. I'm just as upset at how easily it was for other people here to turn on a dime. For people to proudly say “Glad I'm not part of this” and still take sides.

A community involves active work to make people feel welcome. It requires courage to communicate, to find ways to keep the peace with its members, and make sure the community remains a safe space for those within it.

What I saw instead was a popular individual of the fandom using their platform to isolate another. I saw people follow that behavior and they made it known to werewolfsister and I that we were not welcome in this space. That we need to stay in the farthest corner possible and leave everyone alone.

That is clique behavior.

This is not a community. We're definitely not in this together; the majority of people here have been clear on that. The messages sent to me as of late have been clear on that.

There's no debate here: prior to werewolfsister's decision, there was NO animosity between the two. Werewolfsister made a choice she believed would keep her own mental health protected and did her best to respect kenneduck’s.

And for some reason Kenneduck decided to tell a different story, and everyone was content with not hearing our side. When harassment and bullying is happening, it's expected for people to stay quiet about it because it's no one else's problem. We didn't want to cause a fuss so we kept quiet and kept our opinions under read more’s so as not to offend others. I was told when I spoke up about those anons it kept people from wanting to join werewolfsister’s epilogue project because they were also afraid of being harassed. This is why I said there's no community here.

I have experienced harassment in fandom spaces before, and it can be awful, especially when you're led to believe you're alone. But just because I'm experienced doesn't mean these situations hurt any less. This has started to make me spiral in ways I don't want to go back to. I had to go to the ER because the stress was becoming too much that I was showing symptoms akin to a heart attack.

If anyone feels isolated or depressed due to such behaviors please PLEASE reach out to someone. To others, if you see a friend struggling, please lend them your support before it gets to a dangerous point. If you can't find help in the spaces you frequent there is always help in some form.

Werewolfsister decided to leave the fandom space as well as tumblr entirely because of this clown show. I won't be posting on my Tides blog for a while, if at all, because I give up. So congratulations, your precious OCs are FINALLY safe!

Many may not consider werewolfsister as a friend, or even as a kind person, so you better stop looking at me as one too, because I've been mirroring her values since meeting her. I don't care about your opinions on who is right, that you don't like my art, how you're better at dealing with drama, or that you won't follow me. It takes zero effort to NOT be an asshole.

Let me have my peace. My dear friend is gone, so leave me alone too.

My absence will be of no loss to you.

[frozenjokes]

it’s not even language barrier induced miscommunication at this point we are just lying

better reading experience on ao3

It was a rare thing to see the humans freeze up like this, so much like a prey response, and it took Mumbo a few seconds of inquisitive clicks to realize what they were looking at. Oh.

“Is.. That a mermaid?” Scar asked, quiet, but thankfully not scared, goodness, Atlas could have told Mumbo they were popping up to say hello! They knew Grian had been so jumpy about Mumbo that he’d run away for a whole week! So stupid. Mumbo had just gotten through to him! Mumbo swiveled back toward the water, fins twitching irritably, but he didn’t get the chance to tell Atlas off before they spoke first.

‘Why are they looking at me like that.’ Atlas shifted where they were perched, distrust and discomfort clear in their stiff posture. ‘Make them stop.’

‘You were staring at them first! Get out of here.’ Mumbo shot back, though Atlas huffed, unimpressed.

‘Just wanted a look. This is deeply unnatural, Mumbo, I’ve decided.’

‘Good for you. Have fun thinking about it at the bottom of the lake.’

‘When is the human speaking mermaid going to visit?’

Mumbo didn’t get the chance to tell Atlas for the millionth time that he didn’t know and had no way to contact Etho when Scar began to trot towards the water, Mumbo stuck staring dumb as he went. Given that Grian had a similar look of bafflement on his face and Atlas was.. tense.. Mumbo guessed all three of them were on a similar wavelength.

“Hello!” Scar waved as he reached the waterline, radiant and innocent and so, so stupid. “Are you one of Mumbo’s friends?”

‘What is it doing.’ Atlas raised themself a little higher on their rocky perch. ‘Make it stop.’

“Scar!” Grian’s voice was shrill, “Let’s try not approach the stranger mermaid! We do not know if it’s friendly!”

Scar scoffed, “Uh, of course it’s friendly! Mumbo clearly knows the guy, they must be friends! I think if this was a stranger, we would know. For god’s sakes, Grian, you saw what he tried to do to Etho!” Scar continued to wave, stepping slowly into the water. Mumbo moved to intervene, frightened once again by the human’s blunted survival instincts, and at the same time Atlas hissed, long and low. At the very least Scar had the sense to stop where he stood, but he looked no less bright. “Hello, hello, I’m Scar!”

Scar startled when Mumbo ducked over his head from behind, blinking in rapid succession with those large, empty of thought, green eyes.

‘Stop it. They don’t like you. They don’t like humans.’

Scar stared blankly, as if enchanted. He smiled, disgusting in his innocence. “Well hello there!”

‘Stop being stupid.’

“I love you too!”

“Human, bad, annoying.” Mumbo was pretty sure he remembered those words correctly; if he’d pronounced them wrong he would never know, because Scar’s expression did not change. To solidify the meaning, he extended to Scar his most stern thumbs down. Scar did not react to this either, and Mumbo was starting to wonder if his brain had been melted in a heat vent.

Whatever trance had befallen them, the two of them looked up at the sound of a large splash, Atlas retreating back into the water. Mumbo’s fins relaxed, while Scar made a long noise of distress, hopping a little further into the water as if he’d ever have a chance of catching up. Mumbo left him to it, unconcerned. His fins prickled as he turned around, hoping to approach Grian, but unsure if the human would be receptive. As it stood, Grian was still staring starkly into the water, concern etched over his face as Scar hopped around in the shallows. Mumbo whistled, something light but sharp in an attempt to catch Grian’s attention, and was relieved that when Grian turned to face him, the stress in his brow eased.

Mumbo moved forward, and when he sensed no extreme fear, he continued, settling a comfortable distance away, but close enough for Grian to hear him. Scar seemed to notice this change at a delay, scrambling onto the beach to Grian’s heroic rescue, goofy as that was.

“Etho is here?” Mumbo had been meaning to ask for a while, but he wasn’t exactly sure which human words would get his point across clearly. Scar nearly tripped over Mumbo in his clumsy run up the beach, but Grian didn’t react to him, more focused on the question Mumbo hoped he’d asked correctly. Grian was so intent, it took him a moment to call Scar off as his companion sternly reprimanded Mumbo, who showed Scar just how much he cared with a brief flash of teeth.

“You want to see Etho?” Grian asked, and Mumbo didn’t know what he said, but he assumed that Grian would come to a more accurate conclusion than Scar would if whatever Mumbo had said ended up being more nonsensical than anything. He found himself frustrated at how hard this was; he’d felt alright going through the motions with Etho, but he’d always gotten feedback, and if Mumbo was stuck, they could work together to smooth things out. Maybe he was frustrated by just how much he’d forgotten. Mumbo had quite a good memory, a facet of himself he took quite a bit of pride in, but with no one to practice with him, it felt like nearly everything he’d learned about the human language had slipped away.

Truly, Atlas was the central reason that Mumbo was asking, but he also just.. wanted to see them again.

“Yes,” Mumbo tried, and he hoped the confirmation he was giving was for the correct assumption.

“I’ll call him!” Scar announced proudly, Mumbo cringing back from the noise, then cringing further when Scar scrambled over to their bags to get his Dreaded Noise Machine. It was a phone, Etho had told him as much and used one as a means to contact Joel, but Mumbo did not like or trust it, and he hated when it made noise. Humans were hard enough to understand in person, why in the world would they talk to each other through a horrible distorted noise box where nothing made sense. Both humans seemed to find Mumbo’s distaste for their phones amusing, which was all the more irksome.

After a little bit of fiddling, the phone began to dial. Then it stopped. With another press of a button it started again, then stopped, then started and stopped and started and stopped until Etho’s distorted voice sounded through the speaker.

“Hello, Etho! You’re on speaker, and I’m at the beach with Grian and Mumbo. What’re you up to?”

Whatever Etho said in response was a garbled mess, not even understandable as words. Mumbo shrunk away, giving up at trying to parse any of the words from either party until a soft whistle sounded through the other side, heavily distorted, yes, but intelligible.

‘Glad you’re well. I do not want to come to the beach.’ Well. Typical of Etho, if Mumbo was being honest.

‘Will you travel as a mermaid here? Sometime soon?’

‘I hope not.’ What a lovely ray of sunshine Etho was, Mumbo had forgotten in their time away from each other. Etho had inherited a focal trait from their time as a human, being that they went out of their way to be as utterly insufferable as possible.

Etho switched back to the human language after being pestered by Scar and Grian, only for the two of them to react in similar expressions of outrage, which was vindicating if nothing else.

“Etho-!” Scar really started to lay into them then, and while Mumbo shrank at his tone, that did not stop Scar, “Your friend wants to see you after he’s been gone for two whole months, he’s asking about you and you- you do not just get to say no!”

Etho started to say something, meek sounding, but Scar cut them off, “Sure you’ll be around when you do your little switcharoo, but that is NOT what you told him- he probably thinks you don’t want to see him! Huphuphup, just because you and Joel are engaged in some kind of pissing match right now doesn’t mean you can act all aloof when someone tangentially mentions your issue-“ there was a brief pause of garbling over the call before Scar bristled, “I’m not saying it’s your fault! He’s an asshole! That doesn’t mean you get to make it everyone else’s problem! Apologize!”

There was a short pause.

‘Sorry.’ the whistle came through softly, ‘I’ll be back next time I change.’

Mumbo brightened, but before he could tell Etho this was exactly what he wanted and that he was very excited to see them, Scar cut in, probably demanding to know what Etho had said, probably. Mumbo was really starting to get annoyed with Scar, all this yelling and pestering- but before Mumbo could whack him, Etho was whistling again.

‘I will be there tomorrow.’

Mumbo blinked, fins flicking.

‘As a mermaid?’

‘No.’ Before Scar could interrupt again, Etho hung up, the line going dark. Scar didn’t seem entirely pleased with this, but Mumbo wanted no more of his noise machine, making an attempt to snatch it out of his hands, an attack which Scar clumsily avoided, eyes wide.

“Mumbo- Mumbo no! Not my phone!” You would think the humans understood by now that kicking and flailing around on the beach activated some amount of Mumbo’s prey instinct, but they did not, so Mumbo took great joy in chasing a panicked Scar around the beach for a little while until his scales felt a little too dry and itchy from the sand, and he retreated into the water. Mumbo was relatively sure phones were one of the human items that could not get wet, so he hoped he gave Scar a little spook in revenge for the great crime of being annoying.

If Mumbo had indeed scared Scar, the human certainly didn’t hold a grudge, gallivanting right back into the lake after depositing his phone. Ultimately, Mumbo was quite pleased; he didn’t like to hold a grudge either, and at a moderate volume, Scar’s constant babbling was a noise he’d grown to miss in the quiet of the deep.

Still, he was a little concerned about Etho’s visit tomorrow.. he really hadn’t planned for Atlas to meet the human version, but.. it was probably fine. All in all, Mumbo was a little too excited at the idea of showing off the human language to reject an Etho visit, even if it might take longer for Atlas to really warm up to the guy.

Maybe he’d work on Grian’s prosthetic tomorrow as well! He’d do it now, but wasn’t sure how much tolerance Grian had left for him today, and in hindsight, maybe chasing his suicidally reckless friend around the beach for ten minutes was a stressful experience for Grian as an onlooker.. oh well.

Tomorrow was going to be a great day.

…

Mumbo usually spent his days with Atlas, tinkering or otherwise, but ultimately just being in their company, hoping to ease their discomfort with being so close to the surface. It was stressful for Atlas to be up here for such a long time, so close in proximity to an apex species that was waging a war on their people and their home, a war the mermaids would lose, and a place Atlas would never get to see again.

Atlas was curious and motivated, but they were also deeply worn, clear as the old scars that littered their body. Despite chasing change, collecting knowledge in hopes to preserve it, ensuring that no mermaid people were ever truly lost, Atlas did not always handle that change well, especially when things did not go their way. Convincing them to come here was probably a stressor within itself; this was a departure from Atlas’s self declared life mission, preserving language, connecting the travel-wary mers across the world through new song, new spells, and bolstering a species loyalty across nations so that when one pod chose to fight and die for their right to live as they’d done for thousands of years, others might join them.

This was a vacation. A pursuit of a passing interest in intelligent, complex language, for once not directly motivated by the slaughter of the Northern mers. It was not easy for Atlas, Mumbo knew it, but after so many years of endless work, Mumbo was also relieved they were taking a break to do something for themself.

Today, though, Mumbo was not at the bottom of the lake. He was up by the shore, in part working with Grian’s prosthetic and making minor adjustments (both humans had seemed VERY confused when Mumbo tried to take the glove back; couldn’t they see it didn’t fit properly yet?), as well as trying to figure out how in the hell to tell Atlas that the human-speaking mermaid Mumbo befriended was actually also a human. Mumbo was also concerned about Etho in general; he had forgotten how difficult to get along with Etho could be sometimes, and Atlas was, by all accounts, the same way. Either they would mesh or they wouldn’t, and Mumbo had a feeling that Atlas’s realization that Mumbo had kinda sorta fudged the truth might not go down so well.

But Mumbo was going to tell them. Just as soon as he finished this one final adjustment on Grian’s glove…

And then he heard crashing through the brush, looked up at the sky, flinched because ow the sun, realized it was midday, and promptly dove into the water. Atlas must have sensed Mumbo’s panic by the way he was swimming, alert and tense by the time Mumbo made it down to them, which was not the atmosphere Mumbo had wanted to have this conversation in.

‘What’s wrong? Humans?’ Well, that was a concerning if not predictable place for Atlas’s mind to go, again, not suitable for the information Mumbo needed to break to them very quickly.

‘Yes- Well, no, it’s just my humans but they- Listen, you remember the human-speaking mermaid I told you about, Ghost, right?’

‘I remember.’ But to Mumbo’s alarm, Atlas had started to move towards the surface, as if they didn’t believe that everything was fine and dandy like Mumbo had said- he would have been offended if Atlas was not swimming directly toward the thing Mumbo was not ready for them to see yet-

He tried cutting into Atlas’s path, but the other mermaid bullied their way past. ‘Is Ghost dead.’ They whistled the words like they were already resigned to the outcome, Mumbo left frantically trying to save this before it got out of hand.

‘Ghost isn’t dead! They’re here! They’ve just- they’ve got this condition-‘

‘Here?’ This seemed enough to stop Atlas in their tracks, clicking with some alarm as they scanned their surroundings, ‘No one is here, I would have seen them come in.’ Atlas continued forward, faster, like they were concerned Mumbo might have hit his head and become an unreliable messenger of the danger at the surface.

‘They’re sick!’ Mumbo stressed, uselessly, ‘You have to understand, Ghost is sick!’

Atlas’s concern only seemed to grow, stopped only briefly just feet from the surface to give Mumbo a quick once over, sniffing for blood or perhaps illness, to which Mumbo flinched away and Atlas moved on. Both mermaids surfaced at the same time, face to face with the three humans on the beach.

Scar looked like he was seconds from his usual routine of sticking his head under the water and screaming, and Grian hadn’t noticed yet, fiddling with their bags, but Etho was looking directly at them. They clicked their tongue once, perhaps an old habit, then shaded their eyes from the sun with a hand despite the cloudy day. Etho couldn’t see well, but regardless, Mumbo had a feeling they would be able to parse out the shape of a second body in the water.

“Mumbo,” Etho said, catching both Grian and Scar’s attention, ‘Who is that?’

Atlas’s reaction to this could only be described as violent, so starkly terrified they nearly leapt out of the water then back under again, like a fish woken from a sound sleep by the jaws of a barracuda on its scales. Mumbo only felt tentacles at the end of his tail for a moment before he was yanked under the water.

‘Did that human just speak!? Who taught it how to do that? Was it you?’

‘That’s Ghost,’ Mumbo said, shriveling into himself at every word, every second of stunned silence that followed the revelation, ‘They really are a mermaid.. just.. sick.’

‘WHAT!?’ The rise in tone was not conveyed through volume, but the utter intensity of Atlas’s stricken body language, limbs strained near quivering. Mumbo thought they might just explode. Again, Atlas exploded above the water, but they didn’t stop there, barreling towards the shore. Compared to Mumbo though, Atlas was not nearly as fast, and he was able to intersect and slow them down at several points, the both of them wrestling and fighting the entire way, Mumbo ending this battle by holding on for dear life and praying that Atlas didn’t intend on investigating with their teeth. But by the time the two of them reached the waterline, all three humans were behind the thick foliage and Grian was high in a tree. Mercifully, Atlas did not leave the water, staring and clicking rapidly like gathering this information at a faster rate would make any of this make sense. Etho looked quite a bit jealous of Grian’s position right now, bristling and terrified. Scar.. Well, when Scar took a step outside of the treeline, Grian screamed at him and Etho yanked him back. Maybe this proof of fear helped to relax Atlas, their posture loosening, but the stalemate remained, and Mumbo’s stomach churned when he realized he’d have to be the one to break it.

Slowly, awkwardly, he shuffled out of the water, facing Atlas with fins as relaxed and confident as he could make them.

‘Atlas.. This is Ghost.’ Awkwardly, Mumbo gestured, but it was pretty clear who he was talking about regardless, ‘My friend. Mermaid born, but- cursed. Sorry, I did not mean for you to meet this way.’

‘Mumbo!’ Etho’s whistled cracked like a human voice would from stress, ‘Did you drag me here to meet a hostile mermaid without any warning!? I wouldn’t have come! I didn’t want to come!’

Mumbo bristled, turning on them, ‘It’s not like I could get a word in edgewise! Scars wouldn’t shut their mouth, and you cut the line before I could ask you to wait until the change!’

“Scar!” No longer hiding behind him, Etho whirled on Scar, who jumped back in alarm, “He didn’t even want me here today!”

“What!? But he-“

Mumbo hissed, successfully stopping Scar from whatever nonsense he meant to defend himself with, ‘I’d say you’re both the problem, stop with the noise. I’m sorry for my own part in this, but you’re here now. If no one has a problem,’ Mumbo glanced at Atlas, whose body he couldn’t quite read, but seemed mild enough, ‘Then we can chat a little, right?’

‘I have a problem!” Etho balled their fists, throwing a little tantrum with their arms that Mumbo cared very little for.

“Is it.. safe..?” Grian asked, hesitant, to which Scar gave a noncommittal shrug.

‘Keep the other two on the beach, and I will be civil.’ Atlas looked wary, but not aggressive. When Mumbo looked to them, they briefly flashed their teeth, which.. Mumbo supposed was fair. He kept his fins low, an unspoken apology.

He kept this stance as he turned back to Etho, more of a pleading than anything, but when Mumbo gestured to a shaded corner of the beach, Etho seemed to give in, shoulders hunched. ‘Not like my ride will let me go home anyway.’ They retrieved something from their bag, one of the long blankets the humans commonly brought with them, and traipsed to the suggested spot. Scar started to follow, but was stopped in his tracks by a hearty hiss from Atlas and Mumbo, recoiling like a kicked pup.

“Is he mad at me?” Whatever Scar had asked, Etho shook their head without looking back.

“Just annoyed. I’ve got a hunch this new guy doesn’t like humans so much, so maybe don’t test your luck today.” Those seemed to be the magic words, Scar retracing his steps back to Grian. While he kept glancing back at Atlas, Mumbo was relieved he got the message. Once Mumbo was sure Atlas and Etho got along, he would tend to the humans on the other side of the beach.

Etho set their blanket near the waterline, but not close enough to get nicked by the tide, which was fine by Mumbo. He had a feeling Atlas would be more comfortable with the space, and decided to splay himself on the beach, half in and half out of the water. Despite this introduction being a minor disaster, he was pleased to see Etho, and excited for his two worlds to meet.

‘Are you from the north?’ Etho broke the initial silence, perhaps intimidated by Atlas’s admittedly unfriendly demeanor, glaring at Etho as if sizing them up. Though, honestly, that’s just kind of how Atlas looked on a good day..

They took their time responding, appraising, ‘You know Northern mermaids?’

Etho met this question with equal caution, ‘I know of them. Not so many of your stature here, at least there weren’t back home. I’m sorry. I’ve known human violence.’ Mumbo was quite shocked; maybe he should give Etho a little more credit, but in the time Mumbo spent with them, he hadn’t known Etho to speak with this much.. consideration.

‘What happened to you?’ The same could not be said for Atlas, who lacked any tact, but Mumbo sensed discomfort from them more than distrust, maybe exacerbated by Mumbo’s knee jerk reaction of shrinking back.

Etho only looked tired. ‘There’s a.. being not far from here. They take a human form, but hold a greater power. Curse, as Mumbo said, is an apt word. They took my body, and gave me theirs. Sometimes they will switch us back, and if you remain, you may see me around again.’ Briefly, Etho pulled down their mask, tracing the scar across their cheek, all the way down to where it disappeared under the rest of their clothes, ‘One of many violences afflicted upon me, all the way down my tail. The others did not scar, a facet of their magic. In a separate instance, I have also had my scales stripped, which I know you’ve likely seen in some capacity. I’ve heard they chain their still-living victims in the ice under the water. As bait, and renewable resources. Not a legal practice among humans, though I doubt this brings you any comfort.’

‘They- You- What?’ Mumbo did not know either of those last two tidbits, fins flared in alarm, but Etho shook their head.

‘I was healed magically. I will not say more.’

Mumbo accepted this wordlessly, though concern still gnawed at his chest in the wake of this new information. For Etho, yes of course for Etho, but for Atlas as well- Mumbo knew humans could be cruel, he knew many were monstrous, but he did not know to what extent.

Atlas straightened, meeting Etho with more respect, ‘I am Northern. They called me Cub, born of a mer of the same name, one hundred and thirty fifth to hold it, and another of a long line, Iskall. Both were killed by human hands, as was my twin. I defected, my great burden. With it, I’ve rescinded the name, though I do hope one day to pass it on in honor of their memories.’ Atlas paused, shifting, ‘I left to preserve a culture I am certain will be destroyed. I hope to connect our many peoples through language, so if battles like the ones up north are being waged, the other pods will not sit idly, but.. That is not why I am here.’ Atlas looked embarrassed momentarily, or maybe guilty, shrinking into themself, ‘Maybe I should not be here.’

Mumbo straighted, fins flicking as if he could physically dismiss the thought, ‘You can not carry the world on your shoulders. You have apprentices to continue your work, a little time away will not doom you.’

‘Call me Atlas,’ Atlas ignored Mumbo, not even acknowledging him with a twitch or flick of their tentacles, but this wasn’t unordinary behavior, just.. unfortunate. If Mumbo could not convince them otherwise, he would have to settle with this, bringing Atlas here, getting them to see the sun again.

Etho nodded, which Atlas seemed to understand as acknowledgment.

On an absent click, Mumbo sensed something behind him, turning with some exasperation to see Scar. The human blinked rapidly from his place in the sand where he’d been sliding on his stomach, looking guilty enough to know he’d been caught. Perhaps trying to hide, he let his face fall into the sand. Mumbo snorted, miffed, but not without amusement. He decided to leave Etho and Atlas to it, snaking around to take care of their nosey pest. The look on Scar’s face when he realized Mumbo was charging him was absolutely priceless, the human yelping as he scrambled to his feet, then yelling and laughing equally as he ran, sounds Mumbo had come to learn stemmed from great joy.

Needy human, can’t go a couple of minutes without constant attention.. Well, Mumbo would teach him to be careful what you wish for!

[kessyathena]

Change or go fuck myself? Really? And change what, exactly? Go back over my post and tell me what specific things I said that you actually disagree with. Not what positions you think are implied by what I said that you disagree with. What I actually said. Because that's the sum total of what you know about me and my politics. The rest are assumptions that you just made, likely simply because of my word choice or because I presented facts that disrupted the narrative of your post.

The truth is that it's very likely that you and I agree on a great many things. For example you have no need to convince me that the way Israel has treated the Palestinians in civil society is abominable. Nor that Israel has committed serious war crimes during the current war. (I simply won't talk about the war crimes of one side without including the war crimes of the other.) If you're a typical US progressive most likely we agree 80% or more. “The person who agrees with you 80% of the time is a friend and an ally – not a 20% traitor.”

So maybe you should stop and consider before telling someone to go fuck themself for failing to cheerlead what you're saying or use your tribal markers?

Like I said, that sort of attitude is how you wind up isolated and powerless. So unless you want to be a voice in the wilderness howling in impotent rage, you might want to try making coalitions over things you agree with people about rather than indulging in baseless self-righteousness over any small disagreement.

Incidentally, according to Gallup the partisan breakdown in the US is 29% Republican, 37% Independent, and 32% Democrat.

was watching this video the other day and Ilan Pappe makes a pretty good point, where the reason why Israel doesn't have a major left wing (and if it did at one point, it definitely doesn't anymore) is because people can see through the logical fallacy of "progressive settler colonialist genocide" and I feel like the same thing is happening with the Democratic Party in the US, where you can't be the party of social equality and violent imperialism at the same time without becoming a walking contradiction, and this is probably why a lot of leftists get filtered out at the lower levels of the party while the leadership remains staunchly conservative in everything other than slogan

[sillygoofyqueer]

WEI QINGWEI MY BABY LET'S GOOOOO

So, while at An Ding Peak, Wei Yi meets the little mouse of a (basically) head disciple, and never in his life has he seen a guy more in need of a goddamn friend to help out with the frankly criminal amount of work being dumped onto him - it was like Shang Su (素) was doing most of the duties of the peak lord already! Without the benefits!! When he talked to Shifu about it, the man had winced and claimed that Shang Su's shizun was "a real piece of work". Now, Wei Yi wasn't oblivious to what that meant, so he decided to spend a little bit more of his time over at An Ding, even when he was allowed to go back to Bai Zhan once again (with severe apologies from Wanfei's shizun ((and cool monster parts that he was gonna use in his next projects))), helping out as much as he possibly could with Shang Su's (reluctant) guidance. Instead of his friends letting him do his own thing, after the next few visits to An Ding, he wandered to Shang Su's quarters and finds Yanfei looming over a petrified looking Shang Su with a sceptical looking A-Zhang in the background. It was rare that their schedules always fit so perfectly together, but they always made sure to give Shang Su a bit of a hand whenever he needed it. Even if that was sometimes getting into polite arguments with the An Ding peak lord. At least Shifu found it funny; apparently there were pointed comments about the efficiency of a head disciple constantly being off peak in the peak lord meetings. All that aside, he truly was being handed more duties as head disciple, meaning it was even harder to spend time with his friends - but he was learning sect secrets, so it was probably for the best that he couldn't be around his friends much because he would tell them literally everything that he was learning. He couldn't help it, he never had secrets to tell or share!! Like Zui Xian Peak. The well-known wine production peak, often used as a way for other sects to criticise the "frivolity" of Cang Qiong. After all, what was the point of a peak dedicated to festivities planning and wine making if not to abuse such a power for lazing around? It was to throw people off the scent of the espionage and political murder that was planned and organised there, the 'dopey, carefree disciples' actually some of the most put together people upon the sect, efficient and detail oriented because one single misstep could lead to their deaths and the sect's secret coming pouring out within seconds. The only reason that Wei Yi was allowed to be aware of such a huge secret was because the Wan Jian Peak Lord was in charge of being the sole supplier of all of the weapons for Zui Xian. Pretty stressful to take into account, but at least the head disciple, Shui Muyang, had become far less distant now that he knows of their peak's secret. They were undeniably strange but also very fun - it's like they were the same carefree, relaxed disciple from before, but now with a harsher edge to it. More...cutthroat. They seemed pleased to have someone they could be themself with. He had mentioned Shang Su's shizun's reign of terror upon An Ding to them once when they were visiting the forges to check on his progress making concealable weapons (all designed by him), and they had almost casually started planning how to make their death seem like a qi deviation. Wei Yi enjoyed having friends, there was no doubt about it, but he seemed to attract the most unique ones! There was Mu Zhang, extremely obsessed with the flora of their world (and dead bodies for some reason), then Liu Yanfei, someone who seemed determined to fight everything that so much as moves near him (how he bonds, maybe?), not to mention Shang Su, who seems seconds away from having a qi deviation and passing out from exhaustion simultaneously (like a little hamster..), and now Shui Muyang! He loved his friends very much, but he hoped that the next friend would be at least a measure of normalcy that he could compare to his other friends... (Hey guys, more here if you're interested in Shui Muyang!)

[circular-8]

So I was just talking to a friend about how there'd been way less movement with the "Chris in Texas" plot and it was making me question what they were doing with it and now it's like of course the direction the show was taking it made no sense and why it was taking so long because I was totally wrong about what the show was doing.

So obviously Chris going to Texas to live with Eddie's parents has been long since set up as the Worst Case Scenario for Eddie. It just makes sense that the show would seriously address it at some point and maybe even pull that trigger. And once the show did, I was like, "oh, rock bottom achieved, it can only go up from here!" I was expecting reconciliation and, hopefully, Eddie being able to find a more authentic version of themself. Wrong!

Because there's another Worst Case Scenario, and that's Eddie moving back to Texas. It's not the worst thing for Eddie - that's already happened, but this is a close second and a new low. Going back under the close scrutiny of his terrible parents is one of the worst things that could happen to him at this point (given that the actual worst thing - losing Chris - has already happened). This is also Eddie giving up. Which is just an extra layer of how terribly sad this is.

AND. And this is also Buck's worst case scenario - losing Eddie. Mr. "Abandonment issues" himself is going to have to face losing Eddie.

At the end of season 7 I knew there had to be a point to Chris leaving and now we've found it - to create a scenario where Eddie would leave LA. And I'm down for this. Bring on the angst (and hopefully, the revelations.)

[defectivehero]

Ur reading is always so much fun! I'm excited to see what you have for the bingo 👀

I have a request! Would you consider "They'll come for me" or "Dragging themselves along the ground" with a villain whumpee?

Good luck with the rest of ur writing!! I'm excited to read it all eheh

ahhh thank you so much! I'm excited to write it too, tbh! and yes yes yes! i can do that. mwahahhahaha Ψ(`_´ # )↝

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: They Will Come for Me

"They will come for me," the villain maintains. The truth of the matter settles unpleasantly at the pit of their stomach. They know damn well no one is going to rescue them. This isn't a fairy tale—there won't be a royal figure to dash in and save them. This is the bleakness of reality: cold iron bars, a gnawing hunger digging at their stomach, dried blood crusted along their skin. The villain pushes these sensations aside, attributing their spiraling thoughts to their increasingly unpleasant confinement.

"You don't even seem to believe that," the hero points out helpfully. There's something almost close to worry on her face and it makes the villain sick.

"They're coming back," the villain repeats themself.

"Do you want to know what I think?" The hero hums. It's a rhetorical question; the villain isn't safe enough to weaponize satire and find a witty way to snap back at their enemy. Instead, they just stare at her blearily. The hero paints a sympathetic smile over her lips, a hand rising to grip the bars between them as she crouches down to meet their eyes. "I think you're going to rot down here. Because they left you, and they're not coming back."

The villain remains silent. They convince themself they're trying to save their strength—their silence is not born out of resignation. They pull their knees closer to their chest and curl in on themself, still warily watching the hero as she paces outside their cell.

"I'll cut you a deal," the hero offers after a moment. She continues walking back and forth across the villain's vision.

"No." The villain interjects.

"You didn't let me finish." She says.

"I don't trust you to be truthful." The villain remarks.

"I am being truthful," the hero sighs. She stares at them for a moment, before evidently abandoning the notion of compromise. "But, fine." She shrugs. As she begins to depart, the villain realizes they've just thrown away what could've been their only way to escape. They hear the plea fall from their lips before they can stop it.

"Wait." They implore her.

The hero freezes in the doorway. The villain doesn't need to see her expression to know she's wearing a sharp-toothed smirk. Their enemy swivels back around; indeed, she's grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Damn it. They've played right into her hand.

"Yes?" She asks.

The hero's going to make them say it. The villain grits their teeth and promptly abandons any semblance of dignity and pride. "What's the deal?" They question.

The hero stares at them with a scrutinizing gaze. She seems to be puzzling out the details in her mind. After a moment, she breaks through the silence. "If your little friends come for you within... let's say... a week," the hero offers, "I'll let you go without a fight."

The villain stares at them in disbelief. That doesn't sound believable in the slightest. Surely there's something they're missing here. And while they don't want to think about their friends failing, they have to ask. "What happens if they don't come?" They ask uncertainly.

"If they don't rescue you, you'll remain here." The hero answers smoothly.

"...For how long?" The villain hears themself ask.

The hero studies them. "For as long as I deem it necessary." Forever, then, the villain thinks to themself darkly.

"What's the catch?" The villain demands, after few moments have passed and they've failed to find an immediate risk to this 'deal.'

"There's no catch," the hero says, contrary to their suspicions. "Trust in your allies, and everything will work out. Right?" She looks at them expectantly.

"Right." The villain responds, their mouth dry. It's such a simple thing, yet it feels like an impractical feat. All they need to do is wait for the others to rescue them. So... why do they feel so uneasy? They shake their head and withdraw into the caverns of their mind, suppressing any doubts or reasonable suspicions.

One day passes. Then two. Three, four, five. There is no sign of a savior for the villain to latch onto. The villain's hope begins to morph into despair; they start to dread the sound of the door swinging open at the hero's grip. At first, they had relentlessly monitored the rise and fall of the sun through the sunlight cast across the floor. But after the telltale mark of five days passes, they begin to abandon the notion. They know it's foolish to give up hope with two days remaining, but there's an inexplicable conviction brewing in their chest: one that renders any of their previous expectations to static.

The next time the hero enters the room, the villain doesn't bother with their typical fanfare. "How long has it been?" They cut right to the chase.

The flat line set across the hero's lips is all the villain needs to get their answer. Yet the words their enemy utters are even worse. "It's been a month."

"A month," the villain repeats hollowly. Their ears are ringing. How far will the hero go to ascertain her victory? Why would she choose such a blatant, easily disproven lie?

The hero pays them a sympathetic smile. "We had this same conversation yesterday." She admits. She's staring at them with concern, as if they're a fragile ornament just moments away from breaking.

The villain doesn't believe her. They say as much, in many rather unsavory words. The hero doesn't seem affected by their anger or irritation; rather, she is frustratingly calm. She leaves them silently moments later.

The villain waits until she's gone to take a slow rattling breath, before burying their head in their hands. Their heart is roaring in their ears. Surely the hero is lying. She's messing with their perception of time to instill fear in them. Surely the villain will be freed soon.

Their head is spinning. The blood on the floor is so dark it appears black. The truth of the situation is staring them in the face, but they can't accept it. They can't accept the scars set into their skin; the noticeably more brisk air surrounding the space; the length of their fingernails, which they always file extremely short.

"They're coming back for me." The villain whispers to themself. "They're coming back."

Maybe if they repeat it enough, they'll start to believe it.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

Bad Things Happen Bingo Masterlist

I know this isn't necessarily the straightforward way to write this trope... but ah well. I just like the idea of "they will come back for me," being stated as a way for the villain to reassure themself, rather than a genuine threat or warning to the hero.

anyway, thanks for reading! <3

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[justaz]

can’t stop thinking about merthian,,,

beautiful and talented queen of nemeth visiting camelot and everyone is like “are they getting married this time?” and nope! mithian is dragging merlin through the lower town laughing her ass off, both of them covered in mud, while some incoherent yelling is following them. oh yeah and mithian? the queen? dressed in what looks like one of merlin’s outfits. pants and all!!

merlin whispering in both arthur and mithian’s ears as the feast progresses, making fun of the snobby nobles and sharing the gossip he catches. mithian choking on her wine as she stifles a laugh while arthur just bites back a smile, all too used to merlin’s antics

[uncanny-tranny]

I think what might actually help the families of trans loved ones is to actually engage with where the trans person is at - especially if the family isn't quite understanding yet. When I came out, I was completely alone in figuring out my manhood. I had peers and I had exposed myself to so many trans people who explored gender, and while it was amazing, it isn't quite the same at times. I grieve quietly, sometimes, about all the missed opportunities that might have just made it easier for my family to have seen how utterly happy I was. It took them a very long time to actually notice that I was happy, especially once I got on testosterone. I'm lucky that they saw that happiness eventually, and slowly accepted it. My manhood is completely detached from their influence, both to my relief and chagrin. It's sad to me that I learned to shave from a kind online stranger, somebody who didn't even have a father and yet, I do. I have a father. I grieve at the loss of a potential shared experience. I grieve about the pain I went through when I was in that stage of transition, especially because it was raw and vulnerable. I grieve that many trans people today are traversing the path I had to, because it's sometimes lonely (even when you do have other forms of support).

It's hard to know that I will never have gotten my sense of being from my family. In many ways, it has severed a lot of connection with them because there were so many times that I was begging them to see happiness when they were focused on the idea that I was almost in a state of purgatory - flesh which felt warm but held no familiarity to them. I don't harbor ill-will toward them, I hope I don't leave the impression that I despise them. I understand what they felt, even if I can't conceptualize it myself. However, it's a raw wound in my heart, and I don't want to leave anybody else feeling that way, either.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

today just will not let me rest huh. reasons are in the tags but i get very emotional just be warned

[triglycercule]

dust should have one of those mini zen gardens with all the sand and the little rake you use to make patterns but instead of sand its monster dust. specifically dust of people he doesnt like. how calming and tranquil this is as he puts a mini bridge and rocks and tiny tree into the garden filled with what's basically the human equivalent of blood!

[quantumshade]

can you elaborate on gender with the twelfth doctor... im spinning she/her pronouns for twelve around in my head so much it gives me life. even if you dont feel like/dont have any further elaboration i want to thank you for introducing me to that concept

because she's a girl...? i don't understand the question she's just a girl

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[itsalwaysagirl]

I may upset some people by saying this, but y’all really need to stop jokingly saying you’re going to kill yourself

[roseverdict]

i've fixated on the sticks for the past 7 months and i also just finished watching the first half of rottmnt s1 and also the movie, and i have come to the following conclusion:

this venn diagram is almost completely just straight-up a circle

[lanternlightss]

😔Bard 😔 and 😔 Ven 😔 <- soooooo normal about them

shaking your hand …. bard and ven…..

wonder how many of wispti’s mannerisms kept over in their human form …. like if they had a habit of hiding behind the bard, would they still do it now ? how often would they have held onto bard’s arm as though it was a lifeline while they’re walking around new mond,,, they’re each other’s emotional support beloved