#and yes I’m aware that it’s literally

[shadesofjinx]

And to this day my therapist who literally specializes in DID doesn’t want to formally put DID in our med chart because people til this day don’t believe it exists. And because of needing treatment to be accepted by insurance… you get it.

It makes me want to scream because in my therapists experiences and approval by her supervisor yes I have DID but because the fuckfaces that do insurance might not accept DID as a genuine diagnosis it’s not on my chart.

Which yes it’s better for us it makes it safer for us in the future when seeking out other providers but it still makes me rage because how can insurance companies deny that their clients have xyz psychiatric/medical/neurological/etc condition when they a) don’t have an MD b) don’t have a psychiatrist or therapist license like it genuinely shouldn’t work that way and it makes me want to blow someone up

Also I don’t want to hear shit from anyone saying “well if it’s not officially in your chart you’re not actually diagnosed” well guess fucking what, pick up a dictionary and look up what diagnosis means, it means identifying the nature of a medical condition and says nothing about it being official or in your chart or none of that so can it. Identifying the nature of my symptoms is exactly what my therapist did and with several rounds of testing all the data and also her experience with this disorder all points towards me having DID.

Also yes I am aware I’m extremely privileged to even be able to see a specialist therapist, being believed and taken seriously, and let alone getting the testing done. I am extremely grateful and lucky and benefit directly from my privilege as a white person in a family that does very well for us financially and is able to meet my mental health needs when it comes to therapy.

DID IS NOT RARE DID IS NOT RARE DID IS NOT RARE DID IS NOT RARE DID IS NOT-

[sasheemo]

When We Collide

Chapter 14

Chapter Summary: You wake to Agatha's unsettling yet impossibly grounding presence, unspoken questions threatening to unravel a fragile moment. And just like that, walls begin to crack.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N (very long, sorryyy): I still can’t believe it, but here we are. After exactly one month since the last chapter was published, I’m officially back! I can’t promise the creative block I’ve been struggling with for When We Collide is completely gone, but I’m really trying, and I’m so happy to continue this story.

Before you dive in, I just want to take a moment to make a small dedication:

Over the past week, I’ve received an overwhelming amount of love and support that I never expected. Moots, strangers, and even anonymous readers stepped forward in the comments of my update posts on Tumblr or slid into my DMs to show their appreciation and encouragement. You know who you are. It’s because of all of you that, in just over 24 hours, I managed to write an entire chapter after being stuck for a whole month. You gave me an incredible boost of energy and motivation. So, this chapter is for you. To my moots, followers, and each dedicated reader of When We Collide. To everyone who messaged me privately or left a comment on a post or a fic. To those who, even without reaching out directly, have always supported me with their thoughts and good vibes, waiting patiently for an update and never abandoning this story. What you’ve done, and continue to do, for me is amazing. You’ve filled me with so much love and support, and I truly hope this chapter (and the ones to come—yes, they’re coming, hehe) can serve as a proper thank-you.

It’s true that writing should primarily be for yourself, but when you receive this kind of support and encouragement, it becomes something truly special to write for others too.

Let me know what you think of the chapter, and thank you from the bottom of my heart! 💜

PS: Spoiler—I literally felt my heart break while writing a certain piece of dialogue. Had to pause, pick up the pieces, and keep going. Sorry y’all, I couldn’t resist 💔

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

You stir awake to the faint glow of the early afternoon, the light filtering softly through the edges of the curtains. For a brief, suspended moment, your mind lingers in the haze of sleep, the kind where nothing feels quite real, and you’re not entirely sure where you are. Then the weight registers.

The warm, undeniable weight of someone pressed against you.

Your breath catches, your body locking in place as you become acutely, painfully aware of Agatha’s head resting on your shoulder.

Her dark hair brushes against your neck, faintly ticklish, while her arm lies draped across your waist.

You don’t dare move. Not even a twitch.

Every nerve in your body stands at attention, screaming for you to do something. But you lie there, frozen, your heart hammering so loudly you’re sure it’ll wake her. The thought of turning your head to look at her fills you with a mixture of terror and curiosity, and you’re too paralyzed to face either.

You try—really try—to focus on the practicalities. How did this even happen? You’d climbed into bed hours ago, stiff as a board, determined to keep your distance. You’d stayed on your side, curled up awkwardly, staring at the wall like it held the answers to every question you were too afraid to ask.

But then sleep had come. Or at least something like it—a restless tangle of half-dreams and unconscious movements, shifting and turning under the weight of the night’s tension. 

At some point, the gap between you must have closed. At some point, her arm must have found its way across you.

A thousand excuses rush through your mind, each more fragile than the last, as if rationalizing the moment could make the closeness disappear. But they all crumble, leaving behind one undeniable truth: you don’t want to move. Not really.

You tell yourself it’s fear. Fear of waking her. Fear of the look on her face if she realized the position you’re in. Confusion? Annoyance? Disgust? The thought twists your stomach into painful knots. But beneath the fear, another emotion lingers, quieter and far more dangerous.

It feels… good.

You hate how much you notice it, how your senses seem to betray you with every passing second. The softness of her hair brushing your neck, the heat of her body radiating against your side, the faint pressure of her arm resting on you—it all feels far too natural, far too easy, like some cruel joke the universe decided to play.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to move, to shift, to put some distance between you. But your body doesn’t listen. You’re too hyper-aware of every tiny detail, of how close she is, of how safe she feels.

A shaky exhale escapes you, your chest rising just enough to disturb the delicate stillness between you. Agatha stirs slightly in her sleep, a soft sound escaping her lips as her arm tightens instinctively around you.

Your heart practically leaps into your throat.

You swallow hard, trying to convince yourself that this is normal. That there’s nothing strange or inappropriate about lying here like this. That it doesn’t mean anything. That it’s just an accident, a coincidence. That’s all.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. Except it’s not. 

Because no matter how much you want to believe that this is accidental, that she’s completely unaware, a small, traitorous part of you wonders what it would mean if she wasn’t.

You try to focus on the ceiling, on the faint creak of the house settling around you, on anything other than her. But it’s impossible. Because no matter how still you stay, no matter how hard you try to quiet your thoughts, Agatha’s presence fills every corner of the room—and every corner of you.

Your breath hitches as you finally, finally let yourself turn your head. It’s tentative at first, a small, hesitant shift of movement. 

Your chin almost brushes her forehead, and the nearness of her—so close you could count the faint freckles scattered across her skin—leaves you utterly undone. 

For a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe. The sight of her like this, her face so close to yours, is enough to send your thoughts spiraling.

Your gaze moves carefully, tracing her features as if each one might dissolve into smoke if you looked too quickly.

Sharp and soft. The words loop in your mind like a mantra, and you can’t stop staring. The sharp lines of her jaw and cheekbones, the delicate curve of her lips—they blend danger and allure in a way that leaves you off-balance, like she was never meant to be anything less than both.

Your let your thoughts drift, unbidden, to what you know about her. And, perhaps more troubling, to what you don’t.

You’ve spent all your life in the same coven, shared the same spaces, breathed the same air, yet she’s always been distant. A figure just out of reach, admired and feared in equal measure by most.

You sift through your memories, trying to piece together fragments, to make sense of the person sprawled across you now.

Everyone has been speaking of Agatha’s power in hushed tones since you were children—the raw, unpredictable force of her magic. How it brims with potential but defies control. Even the older witches have always been wary of her, watching her like a storm poised on the horizon.

And then there’s the story. The one no one speaks of outright but that lingers in fragments, carried around by rumors and half-truths.

It was just over a couple of years ago. One of the daughters of your mother’s friends—a girl you barely knew, though her name still echoes through the village homes and halls—was found dead in the woods. Cold, lifeless. Drained.

The whispers said it was Agatha.

They claimed she had taken the girl’s power, siphoned it like a flame devouring a candlewick. That she left her there, alone in the woods, to die. 

But that girl wasn’t just anyone. She was Agatha’s best friend.

The rumors painted it as a calculated act of power, a way to send a message and solidify her place as the rightful heir to the coven’s legacy. They said her magic demanded sacrifice, and she hadn’t hesitated to give one.

But that version of the story never sat right with you.

Even more so now, with Agatha asleep beside you, her head resting on your shoulder, her breathing slow and even in sleep. The idea of this Agatha—the Agatha who clings to you in her slumber—being the monster the rumors describe feels impossible to reconcile.

You’ve always wondered if there was more to the story. If the truth had been buried beneath layers of fear, jealousy, and Evanora’s carefully orchestrated manipulations. 

Because if there’s one thing you know about Evanora Harkness, it’s that she’d burn the truth to ashes to protect her image.

The slow rise and fall of your chest brushes faintly against Agatha’s arm, jolting you back to the present. You exhale shakily, your gaze locking once again on her face.

She looks so… harmless. The thought slips into your mind unbidden, and you can’t stop yourself from clinging to it. Here, now, in your bed, tangled against you, she does look harmless. Innocent, even.

And yet… the stories remain. The danger, the sharpness, the fury—it’s still there, lurking just beneath her momentary serene exterior. 

You should move. You really should. Break the moment, pull away, regain the distance you’re supposed to have. But you don’t. You can’t. Because for all the danger and mystery that surrounds Agatha Harkness, there’s something else, too.

Something that keeps you rooted in place, your gaze drinking her in, feeling her presence in every breath you take.

The stillness is interrupted by a faint shift. Agatha stirs against you, her body shifting slightly as her fingers twitch where her hand rests near your waist. Her breathing changes, no longer the even, steady rhythm of sleep but something shallower, more conscious.

You freeze, your own breath caught in your chest. Her head lifts just a fraction before settling again, her hair brushing against your neck in a way that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. For one agonizing moment, you wonder if she’ll pull away.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, Agatha lets out a soft exhale, her lashes fluttering as her eyes blink open, slow and heavy with sleep. There’s a beat—a single, suspended second where her gaze adjusts, flitting from the faint light of the room to you.

Her arm remains draped across your waist, though her fingers flex slightly, testing their place. Her lips twitch, just barely, into something resembling a smirk.

“Is this how you treat all your guests, or am I just special?” she murmurs, her voice husky and rough from sleep, the teasing lilt sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

The words pull you from your haze of panic into full-blown mortification, heat rising to your face as you open your mouth, then close it, scrambling for a response. 

“You—you asked me to stay!” you stammer, your voice breaking as you shift just a little, glaring at her. “Don’t twist this into—”

Agatha cuts you off with an expression so faux-innocent you want to scream, her tone light but laced with mockery. 

“Did I?” she muses, her brow quirking as though she’s genuinely pondering it. “Hmm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

Your jaw drops. 

Your heart hasn’t stopped pounding since she stirred, and her smirk only makes it worse. The audacity, the smugness. She’s so calm, like waking up tangled together is just another morning for her.

For you? It’s a waking nightmare—or at least, that’s the excuse you cling to as you try to suppress the heat that is completely taking hold of your whole body. Your fists clench at your sides, and your frustration boils over. 

“You did! You said—” you stop yourself, huffing in exasperation as her smirk turns into a full-blown grin. “Ugh, you’re impossible.”

“And you’re far too fun to annoy.” she counters shifting slightly, her arm sliding away from your waist as she props herself up on one elbow.

You bite back another retort, your face burning as you turn your head to look anywhere but at her. She’s infuriating. Smug and sharp-tongued and—close. Too close.

The silence stretches for a beat, and you take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. 

It doesn’t help that she’s still watching you, her gaze a quiet weight against your skin. You can feel it without looking—how her smirk lingers, how her eyes flicker between amusement and something unreadable.

She shifts again, finally breaking the silence. 

“Well,” she says softly, her voice still carrying that teasing lilt, “if this is how you handle all your guests, I can’t imagine they stay very long.”

Your breath hitches, and you glance at her despite yourself, catching the faintest flicker of something beneath her grin. She’s teasing, sure—but there’s an edge to it, a quiet discomfort she’s trying to mask.

You huff again, crossing your arms and refusing to let her get the last word. “Maybe they don’t. But you did ask me to stay, so if you have complaints, take it up with yourself.”

Her grin softens slightly, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans back a little, her hand brushing against the blanket as she rests her weight on her palm. Her gaze flickers briefly to the window, her expression almost thoughtful.

You watch her for a moment, your own irritation ebbing away as curiosity takes its place. She’s still infuriating, still impossible—but there’s something else, too. Something quieter. 

You should let it go. The tension, the moment—it’s already too much and you both literally just woke up. But the question lodges itself in your throat, unspoken words buzzing like a swarm. You don’t even mean to say it. It just… slips out. “What really happened that day?”

Agatha’s head tilts slightly, her eyes cutting back to yours in a sharp, measured motion. 

“What?” she asks, her tone casual, but there’s a sudden wariness in her gaze, the edge of a blade being drawn.

You hesitate, regretting the words almost immediately, but it’s too late now. 

“The girl.” you clarify, your voice quieter than you intended. “The one they say you… killed.”

The room seems to still, the air shifting as the words settle between you. 

Agatha doesn’t move, her expression unreadable, but the flicker of something raw flashes behind her eyes—a shadow that vanishes almost as quickly as it appears.

Her lips curve into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Really?” she drawls, leaning back slightly, the picture of feigned nonchalance. “That’s what you want to talk about? Here? Now?”

Your stomach twists at the sharpness of her tone, but you don’t look away. 

“I just…” You pause, choosing your words carefully. “I just want to know the truth.”

Agatha lets out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head as she looks away again. 

“The truth…” she mutters, her voice low, almost mocking. “You’re the first person to actually ask me for it, you know?”

The words hit you like a slap, leaving you momentarily speechless. 

“Wait.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No one’s ever—?”

“No.” Agatha cuts in sharply, her tone laced with dry amusement that barely conceals the bitterness beneath.“Why would they? They already think they know. They don’t need my version.” 

She scoffs, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk.

Your chest tightens painfully at the words, the weight of what she’s said settling over you like a heavy fog. If no one’s ever asked for her version of the story, if no one’s cared enough to hear the truth… then everything you’ve heard—the whispers, the rumors, the stories—might not be true. Or at least, not entirely.

Agatha’s gaze flickers back to you, piercing and unreadable, as if she can sense where your thoughts are heading. 

“I know what they say.” she continues, her voice quieter now, colder. “Some of it’s lies, some of it’s not.”

Your breath catches, her words hanging between you like a challenge, daring you to press further. And you do. 

“But if not all of it’s true…” you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “… then why?”

You hesitate, the question twisting in your chest before it finally escapes. “Why do you let them believe those things about you, hmm?”

That stops her cold.

Her gaze locks on you, her expression sharp and unyielding, but there’s something flickering beneath the surface—something fragile and dangerous and far too human.

For a moment, you swear you see something shatter behind the mask she wears so flawlessly. And when she finally speaks, her whispered answer tears through the silence like thunder.

“Because the truth is too awful.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at her. The rawness in her voice, the vulnerability she so desperately tries to hide, steals the breath from your lungs.

But you don’t back down. Not now.

“Maybe.” you say quietly, your voice softening but steady. “But I don’t think it’s worse than the lies, than the stories people tell.”

Her head tilts slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. The tension in her shoulders doesn’t ease, but there’s something in her gaze—a flicker of hesitation, of consideration.

“You’re persistent.” she mutters, the edge returning to her voice, though it’s quieter now.

“And you’re exhausting.” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual despite the knot in your chest tightening with every passing second. “But since it looks like we’re stuck together—and you’re literally in my bed—you might as well tell me.”

You know the truth, though: you’re not really stuck together. Agatha could leave anytime she wanted—she’s clever, resourceful, and probably already thought of four different ways to slip out unnoticed, if she needed or wanted to.

But you also suspect that getting Agatha Harkness to open up requires more than simple patience. She needs to feel cornered—not with malice, but with intent. She has to know that someone is paying attention, that someone cares enough to ask, and that walking away won’t make the questions disappear. So you hold her gaze, refusing to let the moment slip away.

Agatha exhales sharply, the sound laced with frustration as she rubs a hand over her face. For a long, agonizing moment, you think she might retreat entirely. But then her hand falls, and she looks at you again.

And just like that, the walls begin to crack.

[wetnoodle]

I haven’t seen anyone talk about this. So I want to.

I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs. I’m glad Mel has questionable morals. I love a complex female character of colour. More of that please and thank you.

But all I see is talk about how attractive she is. And that they like her taking what she wants.

But she groomed Jayce. Or at least that’s how I interpreted it. She -a counsellor, a person with immense power and control over what he can do with hextech, aka his life goal- used her power to manipulate him and get what she wants. Literally at his lowest point, his work has been taken from him and he’s been caught trying to steal it back, after having just been on the verge of suicide. She swoops in and tells him what to do. And then she took it further by putting him on the council as well. Where he was very clearly overwhelmed and out of his depth as a scientist. Where he proceeded to lose sight of what really mattered to him.

Hes not a child yes. But you can groom someone if you have power over them. And it wasn’t sexual grooming, although that’s debatable because they did have sex. On one hand. They’re both adults and they’re allowed to be attracted to each other. And act on that attraction. But on the other. She’s already been manipulating him for her own gain. They wouldn’t have been this close without her doing that.

I can’t blame her entirely. I’m sure she’s not fully aware of what she’s doing. With her mother doing power play after power play on her when she was growing up. It’s gotta mess you up and make you manipulative yourself. But I do think a part of her knows what she was doing to him.

This isn’t me saying she’s a bad character and I don’t like her story or anything like that. As I said I like that she complex and her actions bring up questions. I like that she wants power and control, and that it makes sense with her upbringing. It’s just an unspoken about topic.

[hellow-you-are-cute]

Season 1 of Merlin:

Gaius: I hope you don’t have anything to do with -The very dangerous and magical thing-

Merlin: No… *he does*

Later- Merlin goes to Dragon for help

Dragon: *gives him advice*

Merlin: *ignore it*

Nearly the end of the episode-

Merlin: *saves the day*

Arthur: *oblivious* Damn I’m so cool

[hyukascampfire]

U JUMPED UP N CLICKED YOUR HEELS WHEN I FOLLOWED, I JUMPED UP AND CLICKED MY HEELS WHEN I SAW THIS REBLOG. omg.

hehe. world building is my favorite part. especially since my fics lean toward fantasy,, i always try to make it all immersive and believable!!

literally was not aware there was even a plural for geas, i had to dance around it while writing. why didn’t i think to look that up…😓 ANYWAY YES taehyun is definitely gravitational right off the bat. for me, at least. he is stiff and cold, but i don’t think that he necessarily falls into the typical fantasy brooding mmc category. especially after part two, i think his character begins to develop those layers that makes him who he is. i can’t say that he’s not brooding or cold, but i think it comes from a different place. i absolutely agree that he really does embody cold. not going to lie, after working on his character for so long, he’s the first thing i associate with him.

AND YES yeonjun as warmth by sunlight is so correct. he’s not necessarily flames, but more like sunlight on your skin after being cold for so long. he’s so gentle with MC in a way that she hasn’t known,, i’d be the same girl. IM SO HAPPY TO SEE SOMEONE ROOTING FOR YEONJUN JUST A LITTLE BIT. not because i’m biased,, cause of course i have two hands,, BUT ITS JUST BEEN SO LONG. this nation is gripped by taehyun. he always destroys yeonjun in the polls 😭

W yeonjun, writing him came so easy. i still vividly remember the moment i wrote the introduction to his character. omg. he just had a personality that STICKJKJS with you. he is magnetic, and i lowkey feel whimsy even while writing him. he’s just so sensual and intimate on so many different levels. i’d probably give up my mf life for him too.

i also really do adore MC. she’s very multi-faceted. she’s not necessarily always strong or upright, but she has her own set of morals and honestly just wants so little. it kinda sucks that what she does finally allow herself to ask for puts her in the situations it does. i feel a great amount of sympathy for her. i also am a person that thinks that emotion and being in touch with it is strong in its own right, and i absolutely get MC for searching for it.

SLOW BURNNN that’s my shit. waiter, pls give me yearning and fleeting touch for a hundred thousand more words! im not stranger to a 5k pwp and i thoroughly enjoy writing those (yum.) but i truly do love the word ‘almost’, and letting characters ache for each other. mmm. i’m a hoe for jealousy, but with taehyun it is especially different. i just do not know how to put it into words except for 😻💦🤲

the people love beomgyu, that silly forest creature. i’ve grown so attached to his character as well. he really is holding up the found family end of this fic all on his own. his power 😭

thank you so much for giving me this beautiful rb to read and giggle over as well. i adore you so much NEXT PART NEXT PART 🍽️

𝓘N WHICH 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is one hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 93.3k﹙ and counting! ﹚

genre high fantasy/faerie, smut, angst ˒ ˒

pairings faerie!taehyun x reader, faerie!yeonjun x reader

warnings violence, death, death of animals, smut (specific tags will be listed before each chapter), childhood trauma & mentions of abuse, jealousy, controlling & yandere relationship dynamics, unprotected sex, original characters but they only last for small amounts of time & act as story catalysts, fem! reader

˒ ˒ want a look into the world? here’s the pinterest board !! ༘⋆

﹙ 🪕﹚ playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

: ̗̀﹙❆﹚𝓅arts . : ↘︎

one ˒ two ˒ three ˒ four ˒ five ˒ ...🪶

© hyukascampfire please do not steal, plagiarize, or repost any of my works.

[thranduel]

astarion, the man who was dying and offered eternal life, but had no idea that it meant becoming a slave to a sadistic master.

astarion, the man who had his freedom and bodily autonomy ripped away from him.

astarion, the man who was forced to befriend, seduce and sleep with people to lure them back to his master, resulting in severe sexual trauma and the struggle to form any sort of intimate relationship.

astarion, the man who was horribly punished whenever he refused his master’s orders (one punishment being sealed away in a dusty tomb, starving, for an entire year. he scratched his hands raw trying to carve his way out).

astarion, the man who was forced to eat rats.

astarion, the man who hasn’t even been able to see his own face since he turned.

astarion, the man who had his body mutilated as cazador carved scars onto his back, which he later found out was to bind him to a ritual.

astarion, the man who is so severely traumatised that he admitted he doesn’t know how to say “no” or ask for help (and he feels guilty when he does).

astarion, the man who waited two centuries to be helped and freed from torture, but no one came.

astarion, the man who was always treated like a monster when all he wanted was to be treated like a person.

astarion, the man who came up to you in the middle of the night just to thank you for defending him and allowing him to make his own decisions.

astarion, the man who said that no one ever looked out for him or showed him kindness, and that you’re the only one. “other people don’t have a heart like you. you’re you. no one is like that.”

astarion, the man who broke the cycle of power and terror that started centuries ago thanks to the love, care and compassion that you showed him when no one else did.

astarion, the man who confessed that he loves you and feels safe with you; something he has never felt with anyone before.

[rivalmelty]

they are fukuzawa’s boys, adopted twins, and menaces to the yokohama police

(pls do not tag as beast)

[dykedvonte]

why do you hate Joshua Graham or Honest Hearts so much?

This DLC and character represents a bigger issue with fandom spaces I have but particularly fallout fandom in general.

Fallout tends to tackle a lot of topics controversial and not. The first two games it’s heavy cause they are the most satirical and direct with how anti-war, nationalism and etc… they are. 3 loses this as it’s very clear once you play or learn about all the games that Todd and a bunch of guys at Bethesda just liked the 50s post apocalyptic aesthetic and refuse to actually critique the ideals of the time period like the earlier titles.

New Vegas is the game that really gets back into it a degree it almost seems like it’s taking too much on. There are things done exceedingly well while other things are done horribly wrong . I’ve made posts about it before and plan to make a big series of posts (it’s a lot of writing) but my biggest gripe is with Honest Hearts and all the gross and white savior esque depictions it has of indigenous peoples. The entirety if FNV does not do the injustices faced by indigenous people correctly on any count. My two biggest complaints are with the Khans and the tribes in Zion but I’ll talk about the former on a different post.

Both characters of Daniel and Joshua are the most accurate depiction of white saviors I’ve seen and I hate how the DLC tries to justify and defend them. The DLC treats Joshua like this man who has repented for his past actions when he is just retracing his steps after his cruelty bit him in the ass. He was one of the worst parts of the Legion and it is all but explicitly stated that if you don’t force him to be non-violent he will turn the tribes of Zion into the legion 2.0. The Dead Horses and the Sorrows are horribly infantilized by both Daniel and Joshua who both use them for self serving purposes guised by religious duty. The White Legs are the horrible stereotype of violent and savage indigenous and I personally think a lot of their interlinking with Ulysses, his hair and Ulysses character in general are distasteful and very telling of how BIPOC or POC where involved.

But outside of the game it’s the weird obsession people have with these characters ideologies and trying to make them seem more interesting/philosophical than they are. Tumblr is an echo chamber and many fans of Fallout are not the people on this site. Many people are not educated in the issues these characters convey and how poorly they do or used these characters as a poor introduction for their takes. Contrary to what a lot of people believe in, fallout has a prediomeny white cis male fanbase. More importantly a large portion of the fanbase is white.

You can joke how FNV made you trans or see the numbers on post/fics or diverse headcanons but these are kiddy numbers compared to the millions that consume the franchise and aren’t in those more aware spaces or don’t engage in the spaces the same way someone like me does/has to. Their views shape a lot more than people realize and it’s exhausting to be in a space where people don’t correct the more subtle yet toxic aspects of it but also adopt them into some weird quirky view point on the characters or issues. Some people don’t realize and some people don’t care.

My main issue is just the idolizing of these sort of thing in this fandom space and people try to acts like a game like fallout whose tagline is “War never changes” and has never had a game not revolve around political or militaristic factions issues isn’t that deep or doesn’t relate to real issues. I think it’s mainly caused by how over powered you can become and how you can strong arm your way past these learning moments as majority of people who play this game do play it as a power fantasy where they can do so as they please (which of course, go ahead it’s fun) but never take in parallels or lessons in the story as if it was just another first person shooter.

Also like another personal gripe is Cazadores spawn like hell whenever I’m there and I have not found a mod that works to mod them out so I have to play Indigenous Racism the DLC while getting jumped by giant wasps WHILE helping Mormons. Like I cannot catch a break.

[parkitaco]

for once in my goddamn life i would love to feel secure abt a relationship

[multifandomangel]

a song from the twisters soundtrack played at my work today. this is a BIG day for annoying people (me).

[sophiasrant]

Adderall, the first two days I take it for some reason: I can make you #LockIn :) unfortunately for you I have decided that we are locking in on how you can feel Every Cell In Your Throat And The Rest Of Your Body Constantly haha

[papsiguesss]

Attended Heroes Dutch Comic Con today and I HAVE FOUND MY FAVOURITE WAR CRIMINAL

LOOK AT HIM HE’S SO TINY

(More of my insane dumb rambles under the cut)

I tried to preserve the packaging as much as possible since this action figure series is from 2005

Deploying… very interesting methods to free him from gay baby jail 😏😏😏

Go my little mans go commit your war crimes I’ll support you through every step of the process *pats head*

[silverhalla]

something extremely funny about watching the first warden die TWICE and rook just going :/

[wetsocksinbed]

MAWS Lois Lane: *exists*

Twitter: this is the most toxic pathetic woman I’ve ever seen in my life

[moltengoldveins]

In other news: I’m having a Physical Response to RWD and its habit of traumatizing VR-LA in ways I can relate to in uncomfortable ways. Not only did the episode where he was cursed with madness and thought everyone hated him for a few weeks rewrite my brain chemistry and completely rebuild the way I talk to my family, but once when I was seventeen, I had what to me was an incredibly long dream (hallucination???) indistinguishable from reality. I had two extra limbs (wings pog) and was on the run from the government for a long time. I, a long-standing qp partner, and several close friends in a sort of underground royal-guard-esque paramilitary group. (Long story) At the time I woke up I could barely remember what year it was, who or where I was, and why my back hurt So Dang Much (missing limbs will do that to you). I spent the next year or so gradually loosing those memories and compulsively rolling and tensing my back because I could feel limbs that weren’t there. I can now barely remember anything from that dream except a few strong emotions and the tendency to get phantom pains in not-my-shoulders-but-right-above-them. Noir, if you see this: VR-LA and I are second-life buddies now, I have decided. I hope you know what you’ve done to this poor man. He’s gonna have the weirdest habits for the rest of his life and he’s literally never gonna be able to explain them.

[jerseymuppet]

i might be stupid but. is the gothamverse a muppets batman au? is that what the thing in ur bio means? (either way plz do tell me abt it)

That would definitely be infinitely cooler than my idea! Gothamverse is the beautiful result of me playing arkham knight while waiting for an mcr livestream to start up and thinking ‘damn bitches from jersey are fucking insane! ....wait a minute’

It’s basically a silly little idea I came up last March with where all the mcr guys are from Gotham and what their villain origin stories would be etc. I followed the main Batman villain archetypes: extremist, anti-hero, camp, and serial killer, and I had a fucking blast! It’s very silly and just something I did for fun. I guess I can go a lil bit into it here.

full disclosure, I am psychotic and disabled and I do not believe in the vilification of mental illness or disability in media, all of these characters will eventually get the help they need. Batman at its core is about a mentally ill man helping others who have been failed by society and I will never forgive dc for making him into an overpowered, glorified cop.

Frank’s character (Francis ‘Frankie’ Stein) is the extremist (duh). He’s the son of a mafia boss who is steadily ruining their town with crime and Frankie just kinda snaps and kills him to take his place as the head of the family and try to undo some of the damage done. He has great intentions, he’s just very unyielding and kind of insane 💕 his moniker is Frankenstein! And his whole schtick is that he’s very hard (if not impossible) to kill. He’s also chronically ill and Jewish, these are not important to his character but they are important to me !

Mikey’s character (Micheal Way) is the serial killer. He’s a ‘sociopath’ (theres nothing actually wrong with him, people just suck and made him feel lesser and out of place :/) trying to fit in with everyday society but he always feels like something is missing and becomes a neuroscientist to try to find what exactly it is. He invents a machine (the empathsizer) that allows him to experience other people’s memories and emotions as though they are his own. From there he accidentally gets addicted to the chemical responses his brain has to doing that. And keeps doing it. Even after the testing phase is no longer accepting applicants. It gets worse after he experiences someone’s near death experience and starts chasing the high it gave him. Idk what his moniker is? It’s sandman for right now but that’s honestly so boring and uninspired.

Ray’s character (Raymond Ortiz) is camp but very loosely. He’s an engineer by day and a rockstar by night! He’s really only an engineer to save up enough money to pursue music full time but it’s hard because he doesn’t get paid that much. Winter hits and with it, cuts to his hours! So he’s forced to choose between rent and electricity. When he gets really sick as a result, he can’t afford a doctor. And when he wakes up with his hearing gone as a result, theres nothing he can really do but spiral into a depression. Until he realizes he’s a literal biological engineer. If he can’t fix his problem he can at the very least prevent it from happening to someone else! Research does cost money, so it’s very fortunate that Gotham has so many banks. His moniker is Dr. Megahurtz! His weapon of choice is his guitar, which has been retrofitted with sonic emitters to amplify and weaponize the hertz. Not enough to hurt, but enough to incapacitate.

Gerard’s character (Jules Moss) is the anti hero! She’s (yes I made Gerard’s character a trans girl, they took too long to make a trans character so I did it for them) has the same backstory as Gerard actually! On her way home from work she witnesses a terrorist attack, but instead of starting a band she decides to fight crime instead. She does so bad. Literally her first night out patrolling she gets killed by some priest who’s been driven insane by what he claims is an angel that’s ‘chosen him to impart gods will’ but it’s just a fallen star looking for a vessel to possess and the first guy it came across wasn’t dead lol. The star turns into a sword of pure light and that’s what Jules gets stabbed with, but also it fuses itself to her dna so she wakes up a few days later, schrödingers girl, with some scary new abilities and a voice in her head that definitely wasn’t there before. Her whole arc is her trying to find the guy that killed her and get revenge. Her moniker is stigmata! Because when she gets impaled it also goes through the palms of her hands and the wounds don’t heal.

but yeah that’s the bare bones of it all! I’m planning on making this into a comic series but the script is still being written at the moment! Thank you for letting me ramble about it 💕🥰