#i have a hard time swallowing pills in general but especially ones that big

[magicalgirlmascot]

I am begging companies to make chewable medications

[popawritter12]

Yantober; First Day

Dream

"Even a dream is capable of make me know how much I love you"

I get up.

I always get up, but after that, i think, i think a lot, i think so much that my own mind is tired of all my thinking.

But, in this big space, there's something, outside all of the biology in the books o in the society in general, that i define like a Leech, a Leech that is clinged in my mind, using it's theet to take away all of my memories, all of the people, my achievements, my mistakes, all of them, just leaving one thing, one memory, the figure, the voice, everything... And it's you, you, you and only you.

And, also, i dream, mainly, about you. The night before i dreamed i haved you in my arms, both of us in a bed, clinging into each other, covered in a silk sheet, and in that dream, i felt my mind get a rest of everything, all of my thinking, all of my worries, all of my plans, minimizing all of my pain like it never existed, and just left the both of us, both, in that silk sheet, our silk sheet.

But then, two questions appear in my mind, why do I felt like everything just fades away? Why everyone just left my side, but you stay? I don't understand, and, mostly, i have fear, a lot of fear thinking about how progressively and irreversible line of thoughs just disappear in the void, in my head, leaving just a part of nothing.

And I still getting up, and every fucking day is most disappointing that the before. Most of the days I want to swallow sleeping pills, just to be capable of taking you in my arms one more time. But the little of my sanity remains tell me that is just too fucking pathetic do that thing, telling me that I can't be that desesperate just for a fantasy, a fantasy that I am able to bring to reality if I try hard enough.

But i can't just not waking up, and just for open my eyes, for feeling the sun irrumping all of my fantasies make me feel so miserable that I just can do one thing, again and again and again; think about you.

The best of my days were when I see you; every comment give me so mucho happyness to my days that just reaffirms the same feeling that I have every day; I need you in my life, I need you here, with me, and you have me here, with you. A kiss, a hug or anything, just give me something of you.

But, all of the good things had and end, and the end of all my happiness appear in the form of that man. I see him, bringing its unpleasant presence to us, but especially, to you, talking like everything in him is good, like if everything is actually good. And I felt that hate appear in my mind like always I see him, ah, that beautiful and inevitable feeling.

That feeling is the unique feature is the first and only thing that triggers me about you; Im just too selfish to accept that anybody could talk to you, taking you, hug you, or anything. But at the same time, Im too shy to told you how much I love you, and in the previous moment of you giving me a kiss with that sweetness of yours, and telling me how much do you actually love me, just to finally reaffirm, that I I fulfilled my mission. v

And his laugh invades my ears again, with his comments ---The same you pretend to laugh in order to keep afloat a friendship that it's not that worth it--- that are just too fucking boring, make me felt tired, and even if I try to even deny it, it's because he's invading you, your space, with his touch, with his presence. And no, there's no form in this world or universe to make me not hate him, even if you fade away from his life, I will stay hating on him.

But no, you have to pretend that everything is okay, even if he's touching you, taking you, kissing you, I know who you are, I know what you do, I know that you are just pretending. And by a pair of streets, I had the feeling of hate in the bottom of my heart, trying to take all of my feelings and suppressing them until everything is over. And then I have the question, and I know that you have the answer, what the fuck are you doing? And Why are you doing it?

I can't just implore to you to stop, and I know that doing that just gonna spoil everything, and even with all of the pain in my heart, I know that I had to wait, to wait for you, to wait for your action.

Both of you enter the building, and start walking to the elevator, and one more time, that felt of hate just make me felt worst, making me think that... I just need to kill him. Even with every step I climbed, that thought was only stronger and stronger, making my hands shake, trying to supress all of my feelings in my arms, so tense that they seemed on the verge of breaking. And soon, i arrived to the floor that you were, trying to open the door with enthusiasm. With his hand in your hip, in your body.

Everything in my mind starts to overthrow, and when you opened the door of that room, I just could think about... how my own world start to collapse. Piece by piece, everything goes, leaving nothing, and eventually, There's nothing, just you, you and the hand of him in your body, a smile in your face while you open that door, ready to getting with this man, with this garbage, ready to ruin all of my efforts and mistakes to having you in my arms.

Both of you get into the room, the door barely supported in the frame, just to make all of the people know that both of you were in that room. The laughs mixed with heavy sighs make a symphony of the end of the world, the end of my world. I could barely walk, I barely reached the door, and I barely heard his mundane and rude whispers against your skin, only one reaction was possible in me: burst inside.

That leech finally had sucked all the sanity I had left out of me, all of them, there's nobody, there's no you, there's no love, there's no "us", there's just hate, in the form of that man, in that person with the playful smile, and with his awful comments going out of that fucking mouth.

And in a matter of seconds, the entire atmosphere twisted around, just leaving a body beneath me, with his blood in my hands, and his disfigured face crashing against the skin of my knuckles. I am not even capable of hear your screams, I couldn't even focus on your reaction to this wrong action, because, finally, my anger had overcome my love for you, and there was nothing left but sharp blows against a face contorted in agony.

I don't even remember how much time has passed until I stopped, but I remember that I stopped, I remember so well how he took his last breaths and moans, and I remember how he left this world, with his eyes swollen from the tears that mixed with the blood on the ground, with his attempts at breathing so irregular that it seemed like his lungs were beginning to fail, and how his eyes, filled with a fear so characteristic of someone about to die, turned a dead white.

And that memory stuck so firmly in my mind that it often resembled the trauma of failure, the mistake I had made solely and exclusively out of uncontrolled hatred, like if I was a dog releasing stress on a toy.

I couldn't come back, I couldn't even try to get me back of this moment, to get back that part of me that was previously only consumed by love, by my love for you, by all of you.

But I had to look up, and I did it; only to be met with a meeting of your lips against mine so soft yet so desperate, that my heart began to beat again, not from hatred for someone ---not for their previous death, but for their mere existence in your life--- but for you, for you and nothing but you.

And then, I wake up again.

His screams were heared in the middle of the place, echoing off the grey, old walls like an ambient noise, an annoying and unbearable one. I was upset for obvious reasons, and mainly, he was so peaceful when he slept in his chair, wrapped tenderly in ropes, that I thought about leaving him like that forever! Asleep, rested, and unable to resist my request, as kind as it was to get him out of your life.

But no, obviusly no, of course that an idiot will always be an idiot, and especially someone who was stupid enough to allow himself to be taken from his bed to any other place without any preventive measures against it.

But, as I learned so well from life, I knew I had made a mistake, not as serious as allowing you to see what I really am of course, but a mistake in any way. A mistake I swore I would never repeat again.

And that mistake was simple; fantasizing about having you when I could make a kiss of yours in mines come true if only I stopped letting myself be carried away by dreams that eat away at pieces of my sanity. Those eaten away pieces could be saved if only I stopped sleeping, stopped dreaming about you, only and exclusively to make each and every one of my thoughts I ever had about you come true, you and your existence, you and your feelings, you and only you.

Characters! That could be used in this story;

League of Legends:

-Ahri

-Akali

-Akshan

-Caitlyn

-Darius

-Diana

-Ekko

-Ezreal

-Fiora

-Gangplank

-Garen

-Graves

-Irelia

-Jarvan IV

-Jayce

-Kai'sa

-Karma

-Hwei

-Sett

-Vi

MGRR:

-Raiden

Team Fortress 2:

-Scout

-Medic

-Sniper

Stardew Valley:

-Alex

-Haley

-Gunther

Devil May Cry:

-Nero.

[annie-creates]

New Year's Eve

Pairing: Andromache of Scythia x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 800

Note: Happy (late) New Year to you too! I wanted to celebrate with something special, so I chose the character there's allarmingly too little of fics for. Hope you'll like it!

Andromache has seen many New Year’s Eves. Thousands of years worth of colorful lights and celebrations. Dozens of decades of resolutions and traditions, some of which disappeared already. The celebrations have evolved during her time on this earth exponentially. Nowadays it was a big deal. People bought bundles of fireworks, recorded commemorative videos and kissed loved ones right on the midnight.

To her it was just another commercial bullshit. A scheme designed to rip you of your money and generate profit. She couldn’t care less about sparklers, candles and cute sparkly outfits for a party. It was just another day for her, not different from the millions she already lived.

Yet lately things started taking a new turn in her life. It all started with you. A girl barely on the doorstep of adulthood whose life was taken too soon. Or so they thought. You were given another chance, a chance to take immortality and do the best you can with it. Looking for you took them months. Months of torturous dreams of a beautiful young woman dying. But they found you. In the end they always find each other, whatever it takes.

Andromache didn’t see you as anything more than a baby. A toddler compared to the length of their lives. What was over twenty years for you they could pass in a blink of an eye. That’s what happens when you live for hundreds of years. Your youth and naivety annoyed her. Your bright sight of the future and hopeful dreams angered the old Scythian. She couldn’t wait for the reality of the world to crash your hopes and dreams. For you to realize it was actually a helpless cruel place. One you could describe as hell even.

She hated the way you made everyone happier. As if you brought in the breath of fresh air, the youthful life they all forgot how to live. It showed her there are things she can’t provide for her team. She kept everyone safe, warm and sane for the most part. But even as the mighty leader there were things she couldn’t give. And to have someone, just a nobody and newbie like you, walk in and give it without expecting anything in return was a punch in her pace. A bitter pill to swallow.

Everyone knew you were a pain in their ass. You talked too much. You sang in the shower. You danced while making breakfast. You were addicted to your late night tv series. And yet they couldn’t imagine giving you back up. They’d fight for your life with their own. They never let any harm go your way. Maybe they also saw you as just a naïve child, needed to be protected from the real world outside. Her team warmed up to you and she could do no other, for the team is one and one is part of the team.

So Andromache studied you. She observed your interests, habits and hobbies. The books you liked to read, the kind of music you put on when you were left alone or the side of bed you like to sleep on. She analyzed and examined you. And with every new discovery she had to admit she too liked you the tiniest bit more. Your personality was really hard to stay angry with. Even when you messed up, she couldn’t be mad at you for more than a day. Especially when you made pancakes for breakfast to make up for your mistake.

That’s how she found herself agreeing to the crazy idea of buying fireworks for your first New Year’s Eve with them. Even when she wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea, it wasn’t the most stupid one you’ve had, so it seemed relatively safe. She of course didn’t let you anywhere near the pyrotechnics, leaving it up to Nicky and Joe to set them up. They didn’t need you to accidentally blow yourself up or something.

As the midnight neared and darkness fell over the sky, you all went outside to see the showcase of lights. With a loud countdown getting down to zero, the fireworks went off creating magnificent scenes in the sky. You hugged her without warning murmuring thank you’s into her chest, and she squeezed you to her, setting her head up on your own as her eyes roamed the colorful sky. Even if she wasn’t a fan of New Year’s Eves, she’d set the lights up for you every night just to see your joyful smile.

As everyone settled down around the living room back inside, she made sure to keep you close, as if to draw in a bit of your energy and cheerfulness. She couldn’t imagine her team, her family, without you anymore. You were the perfect piece into their complicated puzzle.

[kakusu-shipping]

for your mha s/i

🩺Doctor: What is the worst injury that you/your self-insert has sustained in canon? If so, what was the cause and did you recover? What was your f/os reaction?

🔥Flame: Do you/your self-insert have an enemy? If so, who is it and why are they so hated? What was a particularly heated moment between you two?

@i-put-the-s4p-in-s4pphic

I actually have FOUR My Hero Academia Self Inserts, none of which I've talked about sense I stopped watching the show a while ago... So to make up for it I'll talk about all four of them!!!

Thankyou so much for your ask!!!

🩺Doctor: What is the worst injury that your self-insert has sustained in canon?

Hero - Luckily a lot of his injure have been pretty minor compared to Taishiro's. Not to say he hasn't been injured, both as a Hero and a Pro Baseball Player, but nothing that really stands out as too impactful. Taishiro plays it tough but he's a big ol worrier when someone he cares about gets hurt, so he'll fuss over Gumball if he so much as sprains and ankle though.

Villain - Complete opposite of Gumball, he's sustained so many Critical Injuries it's rather difficult to pinpoint on of importance. AFO found him both easy to fix and rather entertaining to break. When he started living with the League his rate of injury decreased, but the amount of worry increases. Jin especially freaked out when he as so much got a paper cut.

Student - This S/I is still sort of a WIP but if I were to guess, his worst injury would probably be something caused by the Hero Commission, probably while tagging along behind Hawks for training, before he was adopted by Nezu. He probably doesn't talk about those times much though, so neither Nezu nor Ojiro know about it.

Civilian - This S/I is also in WIP even though they're the oldest MHA S/I I have, they're probably the least finished just due to proximity to a Main Character combined with how far behind the series I've fallen. I image they might be injured during the War Arc for some reason but.. That'll just have to wait and see. Sorry for the non-answer!

🔥Flame: Do your self-inserts have any enemies? If so, who is it and why are they so hated?

Hero - Less of an enemy and more of a Rival; He and Shishido don't get along, much in the way Shishido and Gang Orca don't get along. It only got worse after he stole one of Shishido's Interns, Shoda, after a HLB match. He thought the kid made a good pitcher, what can he say!

Villain - MANY. Comes with the Villain territory. While he never actively met him, he does share the rest of the League's hatred for Kai Chisaki, both for killing one of his son's beloved friends, but also for being responsible for his brother's death. He was also the one set to keep eyes on the UA spy, and while he doesn't consider them enemies, he wouldn't be surprised to find out they think of him as such. He wouldn't blame them for it, either. (he's also constantly ready to throw down with Endeavor, though the opportunity never presented itself)

Student - Like Nezu probably the Hero Commission in General is Enemy number 1 to him, but the one person he puts the most blame on is Hawks, just do to proximity. Nezu's tried to convince him Hawks is like them, a victim of the Commission, but that's a hard pill to swallow when you're 14 years old and were constantly threatened if you couldn't keep up with someone twice your age. He'll probably be bitter about it for a long time.

Civilian - His wonderful beautiful person son, Neito Monoma's, parents. He's of course, very polite and calm and put together on the outside, but they drive him crazy. That's his perfect son boy boy son. They don't appreciate him like he does. If there wasn't an active war going on he'd fight them for custody and win. Neito pretends not to see the cracks in his not-legally-adopted father's patient smile.

[hologramcowboy]

I always find it interesting how your feelings towards Jensen come from a strange protectiveness... Like you kinda love him like a mom or something like that. I don’t know how to phrase it but when I read your appreciation posts about him I feel a deep affection, when you are critical of him I feel like it is coming from a mom-like worry for her son not doing good in career or ruining himself in addiction etc. It makes me curious about you, your parasocial relationship with him (I guess I can use this term here) is unique from the normal stans who generally crushes over a celebrity.

I'm touch with his industry so when I pick on things he does wrong it's because I know what works and what does not and my wish is for him to do the things that elevate his career. Which makes extra critical because I know what he could be but he'll never be that because hetakes advice from incompetent people, it seems.

As for him being a celebrity, I have colleagues who are big stars but that doesn't make me react any differently. I look at people's personalities, their hearts, their status is irrelevant to me. Especially since I know a lot of the people placed on pedestals are some of the most toxic people you will ever meet. The image stars craft doesn't always coincide with their real self, I'll just leave it at that.

I feel deep reverance and affection for Jensen for personal reasons I cannot share on this blog. However, I also realize that they way I feel doesn't necessarily reflect when it comes to who he is. In other words, I own and adore my feelings without expecting him to live up to them as lately he seems very different from the gut feelings I have about him. All of my feelings were proven in the past but I guess people change over time, especially when under not so good influences.

This stings my pride but yes, I am deeply protective of Jensen. I think any woman that is in touch with her femininity is influenced greatly by her maternal instinct and that does not extend to just children, it extends to everyone we may deeply care about. It's what makes women unique, they are nurturers. Jensen also shares some qualities in common with me, which also makes me extra protective because I understand the underlying dynamics and how certain things could hurt him.

As for crushing, that's a beautiful and healthy thing to have as long as it does not take away your sense of self, your self worth and your ability to follow your bliss. I love that people love him, nothing makes me happier, but they shouldn't be obsessed to the point of losing out on their own life and goals. Which is what most Jenneel/Jensen fans do. They superseed their live with Jenneel's values and spend their life obsessed with them instead of making their own dreams come true. I know it's a hard pill to swallow but actors are just people, flaws and all, and unless they are your colleagues and you can learn from them, there is little to no point obsessing over them. Even if they were your colleagues, placing them on a pedestal instead of acknowledging that you have all the qualities you need will only block you from achieving your goals. It's perfectly fine to have mentors, I recommend it but the relationship need to be a healthy one.

Appreciation is super healthy and so is inspiration but when you take it to extremes and superseed your life with other people's values instead of your own you lose control over your own life. It truly breaks my heart to see young girls so caught up in their para-social relationship that they are not able to appreciate themselves and follow their dreams because most of their energy goes into worshipping Jensen/Danneel which steals time from their actual goals and dreams.

I sometimes wish I could write a self help book for these girls/boys to get them back into slaying their self branding and goals instead of stuck on regurgitating old Jenneel content or chasing cons instead of investing in classes, projects that make their life. It seems these people have taken para-social relationships and made them the center of their lives and that is endlessly sad. Not only that, they have denaturalized feelings and focus on consuming, objectifying. It's not only a one sided relationship, it's a selfish, entitled, dehumanizing one.

I don't even think I fit in the para-social relationship category because I don't have any relationship with Jensen. Ultimately, he is a stranger and one that is seeming quite off more and more. While, in the past, I was happy to meet him, I'm not sure I could say the same today. However, at an artistic level, I have a deep reverence for everything he represents and could be and I also have an inner image I grew up with that he resembles in incredible ways so much so I often wonder if maybe I saw him somewhere as a child and internalized that image ever since as an ideal.

Thank you for bringing up para-social relationships as it is a key topic within fandom, I wish people had more awareness on this because everything has it's up sides as long as there is balance but once there is lack of it, para-social relationships can become very taxing. This is why I always encourage people, whatever you admire in someone, no matter how big or impossible, get out a piece of paper and ask yourself "When and how have I displayed this exact trait?" and don't stop until you come up with a list of answers. This will allow you to recognize that those qualities you go ga ga over are very much a part of you and you will be able to love people from a centered, balanced place inside instead of placing them on unrealistic pedestals and creating limitations for yourself.

Thank you for sharing your perspective 🥰, I didn't think my nurturing instinct was coming through, neither deep affection, I try to keep my posts as dettached as possible but obviously there is a why behind them and I guess it comes through more than I realized. Being a very proud, private individual, I kinda hate that. lol I will definitely do some inner digging as I'm looking to estinguish those feelings.

Will end this post with one important wish: While it's beautiful people enjoy Jensen/Danneel/etc, I hope they find their own Jensen(or whoever their ideal is) in their real life or become like him/her (if that's what they want) instead of being absorbed by another's life. I hope they get to live their own version of whatever is most perfect to them instead of turning mediocre people into gods. No one should be the god of your life. You can appreciate people without losing self value and without foregoing the importance of your own presence and impact on this world. I wish the same for Jensen, for him to live his highest ideals in every area of his life. We only have one life so let's all live authentically according to our highest values. 💕

[lifewaster-imdanger98]

Why do you hurt others when you just want to be loved?

Now I'm aware that this will be a sensitive topic to many, so consider this your TRIGGER WARNING. Unfortunately, it has also been common occurance on here for me to make people offended or even aggressive for offering genuinely well intended advice on how to improve their situation. This seems to be particularly prevelent in the self harm and mental illness communities. So if you don't like what I'm saying, please just leave. I don't intent on hurting anyone's feelings.

With that out of the way, let me answer the actual question here. To make it very short, abusive childhood / childhood trauma (most likely). But if you're here to listen to a stranger ramble to an imaginary audience in his head for a couple of minutes, let me put it another way.

If you have suffered some form of abuse or trauma during your childhood, especially during the first couple of years of your life, your entire way of socializing with other people can be fundamentally damaged. The big issue with childhood trauma when compared to "regular" trauma, is that during childhood we learn the most fundamental aspects of human interaction. When this process is compromised in any way it's Nearly impossible to correct the compromised behavioral patterns later on.

A child growing up in an abusive household will develop behaviors that help it cope with their individual situation in order to protect itself. They may blame themselves instead of their parents for the situation they are in, or they may try to remove themselves from all uncomfortable situations they're in.

The problem is that these behavioral patterns remain into adulthood, even if the abuse had been removed from their environment at some point. Often times this results in trust issues, an inability to deal with most kinds of stress, a feeling of unworthyness, anger issues or an inability to deal with one's own emotions.

Because of these behaviors, other people may view them as controlling, untrusting, violent, unreasonable, cold hearted or manipulative.

In other words, childhood trauma can result in a general inability to form any meaningful and long lasting relationships.

Now that's all very depressing and a hard pill to swallow indeed, but hope is not lost.

The simple solution is getting therapy. It's not that hard, and I promise they won't lock you away for being honest with them as long as you're not a legal adult. But in that case it would probably be for your best.

If you are an adult however, simply talking to a therapist every week or two for a couple years can really change who you thought you are as a person. And I guess that's really all I've got to say for now, thanks for sticking with me till the end.

[mytwitterisdogtoast1]

Dead Island 2 and the thousand year wait.

I love Zombies. I love Dead Island (One of my favorite games and my favorite shooter) and Riptide was a great follow up. I’ve had a hard past involving Dead Island and how I’ve finished it over 4 times and beaten it getting every character up to the max levels in both 1 and Riptide because of various reasons (Xbox got stolen, ps3 my mom bought got stolen, beat it on ps3 and then got a ps4 which eventually died and had to redo all the data on it). You could say I’m an avid fan of the series 2 main games so I have been waiting for this game for a long time and even patiently waited sitting, waiting, hoping it would get out of hell. My patience has not been rewarded. Dead Island 2 is a tough pill to swallow. The game’s not bad but it lacks something to make it great. The game is a solid experience besides a few things I dislike about it (taking out the entire fact that it is Dead Island and just focusing on the game play aspect). So what do I dislike about Dead Island 2? Let’s start with the gameplay stuff first. Firstly the games got one thing going for it that is fantastic. The gore and damage to zombies in this is great and all the effort put into it shows. The combat is a little bit jankier as they upped the speed of combat a little and it’s not a smooth event when it happens. Hit boxes are a little off too. This can be forgiven if they didn’t bring back the 2 most egregious parts of the first games combat. Firstly guns are just awful in this game. They were bad in the first but had a really important part of the game tied to it. See guns were bad then but they helped kill a specific enemy. Humans. Humans seem to be lacking in this game from what I have played and all we have is the undead. Some of you probably think that I’m gonna say there are not enough zombies in the game but that is the worst take I’ve seen on this game. The zombies fucking spawn often and replace the ones you killed too quickly but that isn’t the issue. Special zombies in this game are just like the last one. Fucking tedious to deal with. The worst part is because everything is faster paced now they just get even more annoying to deal with. It’s not fun having a fatty fat fat vom-zom come at you while 2 big bois try and pound you like you’re the ground. That shit is annoying especially since they are not only all sponges compared to the regular zombies but because they also have attacks that are just annoying to deal with. They also deal tons of damage as well. Sure health is easy to replenish when you can make a ton of health kits but it gets super tedious when you eventually get screamers who call in tons of dead from the surrounding areas who are also big bois and fatsos and runners, and special runners, and walkers, and so on. That brings me to the other point on special zombies. Variants are also annoying. See certain zombies are there that are undamaged by certain effects such as fire, or electric, or damage in general and that shit adds to the tedium of the other zombies who are special. Especially when you have less weapons you can carry in general and they get broken easily because you have zombies who respawn quickly in an area. I had killed 3 screamers and all the people in an area and figured id go into a house since it’d been hours since I looted it, got a few items, came back out and everything had respawned in a matter of moments. All my weapons had become half health and since money is slightly harder to get since picking up weapons is now limited compared to the first game and I can only hold so much I just had to beat them and basically have never looted in the first place since it didn’t amount to much anyway. That also becomes the issue. Dead island 1 is technically bigger in scope in its areas. They are much larger and have more to loot and places to go and not everything that is cool is locked behind 1500 dollars of in game pay wall called fuses. Loot becomes annoying and tedious to deal with when you can’t do much besides break it down. Now I will say this. The game does allow you to remove the additional effects you have on weapons and store them for later use if need be. Giving you back parts to remake stuff later and have it so you can sell weapons and parts when needed. That however is removed with the tedium of going back and forth between each weapon instead of a quick 1 button press to cycle between weapons on a menu. This game is filled with those small details to cause slight annoyance. Hell, as much as the puzzles are low and so on I don’t expect much since the game is a zombie fps. Puzzles aren’t a big deal but the whole dying quickly from things such as electricity and poison and so on based on your character model gets kind of annoying. Which brings me to my actual gripes with the game. Dead Island 1 has a solid - great cast of characters. Not really anyone I disliked out of the main cast. I also love Sam B but who doesn’t right? The thing is this new cast of characters all kind of doesn’t hit the same. Also none of them feel unique. It is difficult to really get behind these characters based on the simple fact that not only are there 6 characters to choose from who all feel kind of samey with their back stories but they also kind of play the same based on your style of play. It means you find one dude who you like and then just build them in a specific style while not really getting rewarded based on that style. Here’s what I mean. In 1/Riptide (I will now basically refer to them both as 1) you have 5 different playable characters. Each one a unique style of play offensively and defensively. You have Logan who is a jack of all trades allowing you to not only use any weapon you come across but also later on in the next game he’s in actually get throwing weapons. His defensive ability is alcohol acts as another easier to find med kit. You have Purna who deals more damage with guns and also pumps up all your stat boosts. Meaning when playing with other people you can pump their healing and damage abilities making it safer for you and even if you’re alone you still get boosts to your boosts because yo dawg insert Xzibit meme here. You get Xian mei who is great with swords and pumping out shit tons of damage and heals better with the rarer harder to find med kits. You have John who is a strange mix of offense and being tanky while doing it and having heals in his offensive abilities which are based on hand to hand weapons and lastly, you have Sam B who is a tank who heals over time as well as has blunt weapons. When I look at these new people there are 6 people who are all a mish mash at the end of the game. Honestly they don’t feel like they do anything because as much as some cards in your skill cards are for 2 people tops they can interchange play styles easily. Which kind of removes the point of having styles  be on a specific person to begin with. Stats kind of don’t matter after a while when one is walking speed. Especially since running no longer costs stamina. In fact stamina feels kinda useless cause sure I can do power attacks which are stamina costing but I can also instead spec my character into fast attacks, slap on corrosive damage, kill everything quick, and also heal when attacked by dodging which can go on like every character.  I’ve been telling my friends for years Dead Island is basically just Borderlands but with zombies and it’s mostly true besides a few small details. The reason why was the skill tree. You can invest in how you want to play a character by either taking fury, or just having no fury skills. I don’t enjoy fury so I never took it until riptide when I ran out of other stuff to take. One of my largest gripes though is kind of how I have 0 interest in the caste of characters. DI2 sure has some characters doesn’t it? You have the dude who does dangerous stuff. Then you have the girl who likes to do dangerous stuff. There is the stripper. There’s the girl who does dangerous stuff. There’s the girl who does dangerous stuff. Lastly there is the guy who is an assassin. Does that sound vague? Here let me try that with the caste of 1. You got the rapper, The girl who is a body guard, the athlete, the hotel girl who is undercover, and the military guy. Maybe that is a little unfair. Let’s try 2 again. You have the stunt person, the stunt person, the person who runs, the stripper, the person who does skate fighting, and the guy who hustles. They sound interesting now but when you have 2 stunt people and then everyone seems like they’re capable compared to the one guy who was a rap artist who just so happens to be here it kind of falls a little flat. Especially since we lost out on “Jack Black”. The loss of the Jack Black character AKA Max. See it’s only under recent events that I had learned that he originally was not going to be a playable character but even then Jack Black impersonators are always cool to have around. They in 10 years could have changed him to be in the game. It’s honestly strange they just didn’t make a better Dead Island. That’s because they just made Dead Island with some changes. We got a game that was in development for 10 years and it did not do enough. It changed tons of things and didn’t do enough to make those changes better the game. Honestly a tighter smaller caste with skill trees (like the first) would have been nice. Shit a proper ending that probably doesn’t hinge on the dlc we are getting would have also been nice. Lastly having characters like Sam B not return would have been nice. I think that’s honestly a misstep since I personally would have rather played him than anyone else. (He also doesn’t feel like Sam B and is just there kinda for like nostalgia pop) I’ve for years envisioned myself playing Jack Black and killing zombies. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. The game being kind of mid is their fault. Next time you let a game be worked on for a decade maybe do better than ok. I just hope you guys can come back and actually make Dead Island 3 a decent game because if you don’t you are going to lose out on a franchise who could have decent staying power.

[takikats]

do you want to play more sonic games but don't know where to start? just starting off? no? i envy you.

anyway. here's a chart i made at 3 am:

this is to be read from the top, almost like a choose-your-own-adventure sorta thing. i had no idea how to organize this beast. it looks like a patch bay, but i'm also not getting paid for this. i have no clue if this would be of help to anyone, but the topic came up recently with a friend, so

note that this does not reflect on the quality of the games themselves. mostly

a few notes:

- it's a bit hard to recommend a starting 3D sonic game.

generations is the safest bet imo, but it potentially lacks a lot of the charm that would get someone hooked on the series. it's a nitpick, but calling it a 3D game's a Little bit of a stretch. that said, it goes on sale rather frequently on steam, and is one of the most polished sonic games out there, even a decade later (this reflects more on the quality of the past decade, mind you)

adventure 1 would be my pick, but camera issues and general jank make it a bit of a hard sell. and, while i think complaints around big and the rest of the side campaigns are a skill issue, it's a worthy consideration for newcomers.

adventure 2 has the same issues for the most part, plus adventure 1 at least has the benefit of allowing you to play through sonic's campaign all at once. if you're a newcomer to the series, i can understand taking issue with a game that is sluggish to let you actually play as sonic/shadow

- if the newest game in the series (frontiers at the time of writing) appeals to you, go right ahead. the boost gameplay has been slowed down, and open-world gameplay may be a selling point for some. that said, the game generally still lacks polish all-around, so be aware of that before buying. while the game holds a lot of unique spectacle, it's rather lengthy and one-note, in terms of what gameplay it throws at you. as to say, if running around in a field for 20 hours appeals to you, go get 'em, tiger

- sonic mania's very very polished as a platformer, of course. i think it's one of, if not the best places to start for newcomers. that said, while s3&k is a great game, it's difficulty and mildly jarring difficulty curve may be startling for newcomers. sonic mania is just a lot more forgiving than a lot of the other 2D platformers here, and in general

- in case you don't know why sonic unleashed is a tough sell, you're gonna need a supercomputer to run it smoothly. or an xbox whatever the fuck it's called idk. and the actual reason being that 20 minute werehog stages are a tough pill to swallow. not that it's a bad game, just know what you're getting into, especially if you're going in for more boost stages

- sonic heroes is an unfinished, crunched-to-hell-and-back game. certain parts of it suck ass as a result. a lot of it does. that said, there's something really charming in there if you're willing to fight the game's bottomless pits and slapdash difficulty to get there.

shadow '05 unironically shares a lot of the same framework with heroes, and i think it plays a bit more smoothly. it's a different beast, but maybe give it a shot if you really liked the story shit going on in sa2

- sonic 1 and cd are great games, imo, but i feel they're best enjoyed with a fresh mindset, if you're coming from sonic 2. sonic 2 helped to solidify a lot of sonic design conventions, and that means that the games made before* that can feel a bit strange. just be willing to explore a bit more than usual, and take your time. seriously

- i didn't know where to put sonic lost world on this list. it's a weirdo mario game in a trench coat. the trench coat doesn't even fit

[aloneandunreal]

january 19, 23

3 months later and... she's back! i've thought about posting before this but either did not have the energy or did not think it was relevant enough to post (although most of the stuff i speak about on here isn't very relevant, anyway). but yeah. new year. 2023. i feel like the years keep going by and they are no longer starting to feel "real." i know that sounds dumb, but seriously. take a look at "2023" and tell me that sounds and looks like a real year. i don't know. ever since covid started, the years just haven't really felt like they used to. but maybe i'm just romanticizing it. i also am getting older, which is a hard pill to swallow. i know that sounds dramatic because i'm "only nineteen," but for whatever reason i feel so old. i can no longer really be a teenager or act like one because i am technically an adult. but i don't feel like one at all. i wish i did, but as always i am stuck in the past and don't want to grow up. reminiscing on my teenage years is so much easier than focusing on the future. it's not that i was doing much, or having a great time, and this is definitely rosy retrospection, but i felt like i had less adult responsibilities. turning twenty in 5 months makes everything feel so much more real. this is really my last few months of being a teen. i used to want to be around this age so bad when i was a teen, but it's quite honestly not all it's shaped out to be. i guess i always want what i don't have. and when i have something, i don't realize how much i'll miss it until it's gone. of course, i didn't peak in my teenage years. considering everything, i've been doing better mentally and socially while at college compared to high school, but as i said... it's more of a "i'm scared of being a real adult" thing.

not only that, but i also just feel that being a teenager after/during covid is not the same as it was before covid. if that makes sense. i always tell my mom i wish i was in college when she was. being in college now just isn't the same as it was 3-4 years ago. not that i would know, but just based on what i've seen and heard... nobody had the trauma of a 3+ year long pandemic. i also feel as if social media is a really big part of everyone's lives now. it always has been, but during covid, that was all we had. so now it's heavily used by... basically everyone. more specifically, tiktok. i feel like everyone cares about specific aesthetics rather than just being themselves. which i understand, sometimes i want to be a certain way, too, but i don't want to be put in a box. this is laughable to write out, but for example, coquette.

this is going to sound dumb, but covid changed so many things. people went into quarantine as young as 7th/8th grade and came out almost finished high school. it, along with dependence on social media and new trends etc, has really changed teenagers. they are so different compared to when i was a teen. which is of course expected, but it just makes me feel old. and it also makes me realize why some older folks complain about the younger generations (yes, even mine). we're annoying! to give one example that makes me especially annoyed, is concerts. concerts before covid were so different. this doesn't apply to all, but concerts used to feel like a little community. we all loved the same artist, and were seeing them live. but now, so many younger people just don't understand concert etiquette. that sounds really pretentious, but i can't help but think it. some artists i wish i had seen in concert before covid. because now it just won't be the same as it was. which is unfortunate. i'm sure this is worded very badly and i sound stupid and pompous, but nobody is looking at these posts or my blog so i don't really care. i keep telling myself this is my place to write my thoughts, knowing nobody will be seeing them but me. and i guess whoever on tumblr stumbles upon this account. ha.

nothing against teenagers nowadays. technically i still AM a teen. but it's just different. however, of course, as there is with all generations, there are similarities too. things that will never change no matter how many years go by. it's sort of comforting seeing it, if that makes any sense. it makes me have some hope. but not much. and of course, i'm a hypocrite talking about social media, tiktok, etc, because i use it. and have since i was very young. but i suppose this is just commentary on it as a whole, not necessarily a critique. i'm calling myself out, too. all i'm saying is that i wish things were more natural and organic; more carefree. people will say they're carefree but, truly, how can you be in this day and age? especially if you're between the ages of 18-25. social media can ruin lives and mental health. covid has impacted everyone on earth. making money and being able to survive is a huge worry. what about graduate school? the earth is dying. school loans, debt... the list goes on. of course some/all of these have always been issues, but i personally just don't think anyone can TRULY be carefree anymore.

i don't want to have to work my whole life to afford living. i want to enjoy life, have fun. it makes me wish i had done more with my teenage years. i still have time to "have fun" and "live my life", but soon i'll need to start worrying about grad school, jobs, internships, etc. i guess young me hadn't really thought about that.

i feel so melancholic thinking back on my younger self, what i was like, who i was friends with, experiences i had. of course, i've written about this before - it's a trend with me - but i can't help it. that's just who i am. i've even started looking back somewhat sentimentally on my senior year of high school, even though that was just two years ago. same with my freshman year of college. and, of course, way before that as well. i don't know why i do this. everyone's changing, including me, but i'm still semi-stuck in the past. i have one foot in adulthood, and one in teenagehood.

it's funny thinking about how i started this blog when i was sixteen, during covid, my junior year of high school that got cut short. how i was so afraid of turning seventeen, for whatever reason. well, guess what? you're turning twenty in 5 months. how's that make you feel, sixteen year old me? not great, i'm sure. i wish i could shake myself and tell her to stop being so afraid. but then again, in three or four years, i'm sure i'll be wanting to say the same thing to myself now.

i'm not totally unhappy/unsatisfied with my life at the moment, but i wouldn't say i'm doing great. if you couldn't tell with what i've been writing. i wish i wasn't so caught up in the past, so scared to move on. i wish i could just happily feel nostalgic about things instead of whatever... this is. i hate feeling a knot in my stomach thinking about old memories, both good and bad. still, it's a familiar sadness/nostalgia i've always had. but i just don't know how to let go of it. i want to be happy, have a happy, fun, fulfilling life. i want to be remembered and thought of fondly by others, and vice-versa. i want friends i'll have for a lifetime. but it feels impossible. i hope it's not.

i don't know what i have going for me; i don't know what's to come, and that is what scares me. i want to make the best of the time i have, but i can't when i'm so stuck in the past. like i've been my whole life. i can never live in the present. i'm either in the past or the future, almost never the present. i can't enjoy things normally. and, just as my teenage years, my 20s will be over at some point. i don't want to be 30+, looking back, and regretting all the time i've wasted. i'm scared of growing older, but i really just need to face the truth. there's no going back in time, and i'm not going to be young forever. but how? i still haven't fully learned, even after all of these years.

i guess that's all for now. a pretty anticlimactic way to end a journal, but it is what it is. i wonder if i'll ever have anything good to say on this blog, anything positive. i feel as if i only go on here to rant about nonsense and be sad. i don't think i've ever given a "happy" update. because, unfortunately, happiness is not easy to romanticize like sadness is. maybe one day i will. but for now, we're stuck with the sad, sentimental rants. these are supposed to be the best years of my life, but it doesn't fully feel like it.

while writing, i listened to:

playground love - air

bathroom girl - air

cemetery party - air

get free - lana del rey

bel air - lana del rey

in my head - bedroom

kids - MGMT

my kind of woman - mac demarco

[thursdaygrl]

There was a caution in them, tensely waiting for it, that moment when Marie was awake enough to register what she was seeing, to react to it. Their anticipation was almost palpable, Jordan's brows raising as they blew air from their lips and then nodded. "Y-yeah, guess we did. Guess it does." They caught it then, the slight shift in her response, the way she sounded awkward. Jordan felt useless, almost frozen there in the form they knew she hadn't fallen asleep in, nor the one she had kissed or fucked. She'd called them out for shifting to yell at her, that day, but in a way they wondered if it protected the image that she had of them, to think of them always as their masculine form. The one who'd still been a dick, but who had some sort of restraint about it. They were guilty of unleashing in this form, spurred on by the confidence it gave them, by the fact that if they wanted to be a hateful bitch, they weren't likely to be met with puppy dog eyes in return. Still, they looked particularly unlike themselves right now, almost timid and lost for words as they stared straight ahead and then at Marie, for a second, watching her face. Did she want to ask them to switch back? Was she mentally willing them to? They swallowed, brows furrowing as their palm smoothed the sheet over their chest, aware of how it clung to their breasts and the curve of their hips. They remembered wrenching it up over the both of them, maybe after Marie said she was cold. Their mind was on the quickest exit route now as Marie sat up and their gaze trailed up her arm, over her back, towards her face, but her eyes were taking the sight of them in and they blinked their gaze away. She was so beautiful, even when her whole presence set them completely on edge, especially as they watched her easing out of her bed to begin looking for clothes.

It was uncomfortable. She was uncomfortable, but clearly pretending to be fine for their sake. As chipper as she tried to be, Jordan had spent some time watching her, studying her. They could tell when something was off and as she held out their tank top they sat up, hand held firmly against their chest. How did they subtly shift right now without somehow making it more awkward and weird? Jordan was at a loss, pulling the tank top over their head and turning their body away from her to pull it over their chest and torso, sheet falling away. Their eyes scanned the floor for their sweatpants, spying them across the floor a little, which had them crouching down for a moment to turn them the right way before they slipped them onto their feet and up their legs, crouched over and aware of their body. Marie was still talking, offering... breakfast? It was painful, watching her try to act like she just hadn't noticed, as if anything about this was normal in general. Sleeping together in the heat of the moment in itself was one thing, but Jordan had been trying to hard to avoid this, the moment where she realised who she was actually getting involved with. They were comfortable in their masculine form, they liked being a man, but only being a man, that was their version of torture. Everyone expected one or the other and they'd had enough time now to grapple with that fact. After Shetty and the academy, after their parents, after Evangeline. Getting that shit from Marie, who was kind at her core, even if naïve and inexperienced, it would be a tough pill to swallow. More thoughts swirled around their mind, more messages of doubt from deep in their brains. Did she think she owed them, for last night? Did she regret it, now? "Look, it's okay. Okay? Don't have to cook me breakfast or anything. It was nice of you to let me crash, but I should get to my place, make sure I didn't leave the fucking oven on, or something." Arms folded over their chest, their gaze avoiding hers. "It's not a big deal, right? That's what we keep saying?" Jordan took a step back, looking for the rest of the clothes they'd shed. They couldn't even meet her gaze at this point, hardening themselves as they fished out a hair tie from the pocket of their pants, tying their black hair back at the base of their neck, strands loosening and falling in their face as they stood up, feet shoving themselves into their sneakers. "See you at rehearsal." They blinked over at her as they approached her door, shooting a tight, unsure smile before they fled her apartment twice as quickly as they'd sauntered into it the night before.

Waking up with someone next to her was the kind of scenario Marie used to fantasize about, back when she dreamt about her future instead of living in it. What it would be like—to lazily open your eyes and watch as the world came into focus, to feel someone's warmth enveloping you, to know that even in such an intimate, small moment, someone was there, choosing to begin their morning with you. But, of course, those were just scenes from the movies she got to earnestly watch growing up, and that quiet, irresistible love at the end of a good romantic comedy never told her what to do if she accidentally fell asleep in the arms of someone who wasn’t supposed to be in her bed in the first place. She liked it, though. That much was obvious in the delicate smile on her face when Jordan’s movements woke her up, lashes fluttering and a sigh escaping her because it was too early, on a Saturday, and her body was begging her to get a few more hours of sleep. No, that was a lie; her body was begging for a rerun of the night before and then a few more hours of sleep. If she played her cards right, she might actually get it, she thought as her eyes finally opened and her attention moved to her partner. Almost immediately, as if perfectly aware of her sleepy state, Jordan broke what she’d assumed was just a comfortable silence. “Hi, good morning—” Marie greeted, a soft pout starting to form in her lips, ‘cause they were right there, and still they weren’t touching her. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, we were really tired, so it makes sense,” she huffed out a short laugh. Her confidence wavered then, ‘cause she noticed how visibly nervous they were, and Marie didn’t know what could have originated that feeling when they’d been so ecstatic the night before, so comfortable with each other. Maybe it was about staying the night, or about sleeping with her, or just about her in general, and if they were regretting it, she wouldn’t really know how to deal with that without a crushing feeling in her chest.

As she sat up on the bed, her hands assuring that the sheets would cover her frame, the images from the previous night wouldn’t stop flashing in her mind. Sometime, while she was sleeping, they’d shifted into their feminine form, so now they were there, looking impossibly pretty, making her wonder why she hadn’t gotten to see them like that the night before and why she hadn’t been allowed to discover what it was like to kiss them or to touch them when they changed yet. It was almost cruel, ‘cause soft, delicate curves she’d never been able to admire before were under covers that she was itching to pull away, and a voice inside of her told her she wasn’t exactly welcome to do so. All Marie could wish was to have the strength to lean over and press her lips against theirs again, to tell them not to waste what could be a perfectly good morning by being awkward and distant and ruining the atmosphere they’d built. But the risk was too high; she’d hate to come off as needy, like some lovestruck freshman who was too lustful and too curious to leave the bed for an entire day if she was given the chance. So, she forced herself to tear her gaze away from Jordan, standing up and then searching for the light blue pajama she’d put on after the shower—the one that hadn’t stayed on for long. “I don’t know if you have plans for today—here, this is yours.” She leaned to grab the tank top they’d dropped by the edge of the bed the night before. Offering it to them, it was impossible not to feel the electric sparks as her digits grazed theirs. Did they feel them too? Or was it all in her head? “But if you want to stay over for a bit longer, I could make us something to eat. I’m not a great chef, but we can’t be great at everything.” It was a poor attempt at a joke, and it wouldn’t surprise her if that fact was written all over her expression. “You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to,” she was quick to add, her cheeks burning because she was failing terribly at appearing cool. “But it could be fun.” Say yes; she didn’t allow herself to express, I’d love it if you said yes.

[one-rosy-sock]

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt. 

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner’s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Not a Baby: Nat and Chris (And Ronnie)

CW: The first part is pure fluff with a couple underage drinking references/jokes. Second part references the events of Chris getting appendicitis (One, Two, Three, Four) and takes place while he is healing from surgery. Includes surgery references, whumpee rejecting medication, medical trauma references

Sometimes, you just want bittersweet fluff lined with angst.

-

“You gotta help me out,” Tristan sings along with the radio as they wait at a red light, Ronnie furtively checking her phone. “It’s all a blur last ni-eee-eye-ee-ight…”

One message from Paul, just now out of bed after a longer-than-usual workday had fully wiped him out, thanking her for leaving some food in the fridge. She smiles, faintly, at the sight of the little heart emojis he leaves after every single text. 

He’s not much for showing emotion in his face, not like Tristan wears his own feelings on his sleeve, but he knows how to make sure Ronnie feels loved. He always has.

The light turns green, and she taps on the gas, then lets her foot slowly press down. Next to her, Tristan dances in his seat, totally unselfconscious, rocking back and forth. 

“We need a taxi, ‘cause you’re hungover and I’m broke…”

Ronnie starts laughing, one hand over her mouth, the other still on the wheel.

He blinks, turning to look at her. They just clipped his hair short last week, getting him ready for the next competition coming up. She never expected to be a Gymnastics Mom, not once, but here she is, chaperoning her teenage son to the gym on a Saturday afternoon, where he more or less lives these days. “What?”

“I just. It’s something else to listen to your teenage son sing about being hungover, Tris. That’s all. You’re way too young for this song. And probably just for Katy Perry in general, not that anyone should listen to-”

“Mom.” Tristan rolls his eyes, leaning over and pointedly turning the volume up on the radio. “I like Katy Perry. And I, I, I know what hungover is. I’m not, not, not, not-... not-not four years old. I’m fifteen.”

“Fair enough, but I don’t think my fifteen-year-old should know about being hungover, either.” She takes a turn, the radio cheerfully blaring that’s what you get for waking up in Vegas and she wonders why she keeps letting Tris pick the radio station, exactly, when they could be listening to some perfectly fine soft rock right about now. “What do you get up to at Aki’s, huh? Maybe I need to speak to Aimi. Ask if you’re having wild parties as soon as I leave.”

“Oh my god, Mom.” Tristan turns bright red, and she tries not to enjoy how much he’s his father’s son - always but especially when he blushes, the red seeming to make the scattering of pale freckles stand out even more, not less, when he does. “You are, are not going to-... we don’t drink, Mom. We just, just watch shows and… hang out.”

“I know, baby,” Ronnie says, laughter still edging her voice. “I’m teasing you, that’s all.”

He glares out the windshield where he sits next to her, running his fingers up and down the smooth seatbelt, along its edge. Back and forth, enjoying the mix of silk and rough in the texture, she thinks. 

“I’m not a, a, a, a baby,” He mumbles, all teenage resentment and irritation. 

“Oh, honey. That’s the downside of having parents,” Ronnie says, gentling her voice down to affection, taking another turn. She can see the gym now, down at the end of the street. Aimi will probably already be here with Aki, she figures, and maybe they can make a coffee run while the boys practice. “It doesn’t matter how old you get. You could be fifty and I could be sixty-seven and I’d still see you wrapped in that hospital blanket looking up at me with big eyes. Even when we’re both old, you’ll still be my baby.”

He rolls his eyes again, but this time she catches the hint of a smile he’s trying to hide pulling at one side of his mouth. Tristan leans forward and switches the radio station over to Ronnie’s favorite, then falls back into his seat, focusing on the seatbelt again.

Sometimes, like his father, he doesn’t know how to say he loves her, but he always knows how to show it.

-

Two and a half years later

Nat came down for a glass of water, only to find Chris wide awake on the couch at 3 am, top teeth biting down so hard on his bottom lip she was afraid he’d draw blood, making his slow, careful, shuffling way towards the stairs.

She’d managed to convince him to go back to the couch, or really more or less command him, but the trade-off was promising she’d stay downstairs with him for a while.

Now, instead of water she has a mug of hot tea steaming gently on the side table, instead of her warm bed she has Chris’s head resting on a pillow in her lap while she runs fingers slowly through his hair - dark red in the night, lit with a hint of silver by the reflected light coming off the television - and instead of dreams, she has reruns of Frasier.

“You palmed your pain medication earlier, didn’t you?” She asks the question as gently as she can, without judgement.

He doesn’t answer, green eyes locked on the television, where the main character’s younger brother is preparing for a date and managing to set an ironing board on fire in the process. It’s probably one of the best scenes in television history, but Nat can’t even begin to pay attention to it. Worry has her all twisted up, heart beating a little too fast, as she picks up her mug and takes a sip, honey and lemon and yes, a little bit of whiskey in her tea all settling over her tongue. 

“Chris,” She says, softly. “I asked you a question.”

“Mmmhmm,” is all he says, and he doesn’t move. His head is a soft weight against her leg, and his hair runs like silk through her fingers. He’s pale not just from the darkness and the late-night TV, but from the pain he must be in, must be holding back.

Of course, there’s no one who has come through her house who hasn’t been pretty good at hiding pain, after a while. Once you’re drowned in it, once it’s your everyday truth, you learn not so much to actually hide it as simply to go on living with it. 

No one Chris’s age should already be so good at this.

“You have to take those, or you’re going to hurt like this all the time for a while,” Nat says, trying to keep from lecturing him. His freckles stand out more, lit by the cool blue-tinged light of TV. She watches him smile, just a little, at the slapstick comedy going on. “It’ll take longer for your incision to heal if you-”

“Don’t, don’t like pills,” Chris whispers, and she watches one of his hands, palm flat, running up and down the heavy weighted blanket she’s laid over him. It’s soft as rabbit fur, and he starts to hum, nearly a whisper, as he touches it. “Jake’s gone. Out. Didn’t… didn’t want them.”

Nat takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. “Chris, you can’t only take pills when Jake is here to give them to you. He can’t always be here, he has things he does outside of this house-”

“I know. But… I didn’t want them. I, I, I don’t mind hurting a little.”

The funny thing is, it’s not bluster. He really doesn’t. Chris would really rather lay here, awake in the middle of the night, in terrible pain than simply put two pills into his mouth and wash them down with water. There’s been too much done to him with drugs, and he’s not the only one she’s had to help recover the idea of medicine as something other than torture.

He’ll get there.

She hopes.

“Okay, well… where did you put them?”

There’s silence, again, but this time he shifts a little, a flash of his hurt and discomfort across his expression. “In, in the couch cushions.”

“Do you have any of your other doses in there?”

“... mmhmm.”

“Chris…” She sighs, putting her hand up to her forehead, rubbing her fingers just above the bridge of her nose as the tension starts to build behind her eyes. Oh, her head’s going to hurt soon. She can’t just be up at night like she used to without paying for it the next day. “How many have you skipped? Huh?”

“... four.”

“Four. Four times-... okay.” She exhales, slowly - he’s tense under her hand, now, and she can feel the worry in him. Knows he’s trying to figure out if he’ll be in trouble, get punished. Disciplined for the ways he’s learned to live with what happened to him.

A different kind of test than what he’s tried on Jake, but it’s still a test.

“Chris. I can’t tell you how much I don’t want to have to sit here and watch you and see you swallow them. I know that it’s hard for you, I do, and I’m so sorry that we have to do this, but I have to take care of you. I want to take care of you. And part of that is making sure you know how to care for yourself. When you’re recovering from serious surgery-”

“The, the, the, the cut’s not even that big,” He mutters, a hint of irritation. 

Nat feels a surge of affection for him that, if she were standing, would nearly knock her off her feet. Chris interrupting her, Chris being pouty and sulky and every inch a seventeen-year-old boy, is a new thing. She doesn’t take it for granted.

It’s just… a little inconvenient right now.

“It doesn’t matter how big it is. It went all the way inside your stomach, and it was a pretty serious surgery. You need these pills or you are going to hurt like hell for so much longer than if you take them and get better. You got it?”

He sighs, but relaxes against her again, and she starts running fingers through his hair again, simple and maternal. “Yeah. I, I do.”

“Okay. Let’s watch the show and see if maybe you’re up for taking your dose and heading back to sleep in a bit, huh?”

“Will you, you, you stay? Even if I-... even if I do, and fall asleep?” He twists a little to look up her and winces as it pulls the still-tender muscles in his abdomen. “Will you stay?”

Nat thinks about how badly her back’s going to hurt in the morning. The headache already trying to sneak its way in around the edges. How she’s going to end up napping half the day away and not getting a damn thing done she had planned.

Then she just smiles down at him, at his wide green eyes in his narrow face and the heavy blanket hiding every other inch of him in softness and warmth. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay right here with you, ‘til Ant’s up in the morning. How’s that sound?”

“Good. See if you can get comfortable for a bit.”

The two of them fall back into an easy silence, broken only by the low-volume of the TV show, and get through two more episodes of Frasier before Nat’s tea is gone and she and Chris are both half-asleep on the couch, her hand simply resting on his hair, now, light but ever-present. 

Eyes closed, the television’s cool blue still dancing against the inside of her eyelids, she hears Chris mumble, “Night, Nat,” in a sleep-slurred voice. It’s got to be four in the morning, there’s not much night left.

“Night, baby,” Nat murmurs.

“Not a, a baby, Mom,” Chris whispers, but both of them are too close to sleep to notice.

-

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump @outofangband

[artbyflor]

Okay but what’s your opinion of Harry being kinda an asshole as a dad in cc?

hii! i was honestly expecting this question haha

i tried to keep it as short as possible, but there’s honestly a lot to say

(as with most of my answers regarding The Cursed Child, there’s going to be a part where i point out what i liked, and where i think it went wrong.)

i’m going to start by saying that i thought it was realistic. good intentions are not always enough, not only when it comes to parenting, but also to life in general.

what do i mean by this? well, Harry clearly loved Albus (as well as Lily and James) and he was clearly trying, but he was also clearly hitting the wrong note and not making the smartest of the moves.

and i think this is in character for Harry. most of the time, Harry has the best of the intentions, but doesn’t make the best choices. he tends to be stubborn, act with his feelings rather than with his brain, and he also tends to be oblivious and a bit self-centered with his feelings.

with all of this in mind, i think it’s realistic that he would struggle to connect with Albus, because Albus is very similar to him in these aspects (i would also like to add that Albus has a lot of insecure feelings and traits that Ginny had when she was younger, but that’s for another post. i could make an entire post talking about Albus as a character tbh)

but to keep on with Harry, there’s also the fact that Harry’s parenting seems to work great with Lily and James, so he would fail to realize why it’s not working with Albus (and here Scorpius comes into play too, because it is implied in the story that Harry thinks that Scorpius is this “black cloud”, aka bad influence, that is pushing Albus away from his family) so he would stubbornly keep trying the same, thinking that something else is wrong, instead of realizing his the one at fault

Albus is also very complex on his own, and has his own baggage of issues and insecurities. aaaand he is also kind of a brat sometimes. but that’s expected from a literal 14 years old, so in all honesty, Harry should be the one knowing better. but he doesn’t, and to be fair, it’s not entirely his fault.

here’s where i’d like to point out that Harry never had a healthy family, much less any stable or secure influences by his side. he would not only lack the knowledge, but he would also be dealing with his own trauma and struggles. i believe that for Harry, admitting that he is failing as a father is a bigger deal than anyone would realize. Harry had a lot of paternal influences failing or leaving him, and the idea of having a family (and parents) has always been important for him. i feel like this plays an important role in Harry’s action.

honestly? this play should have been called: Harry Potter and Why Everyone Should Go To Therapy (especially Harry Potter himself) 

now. with all of this in mind.... there’s that scene. that scene where Harry said that infamous “i wish you weren’t my son”. and man. that’s a hard to swallow pill. 

on one hand, Harry is a person that shoots to kill when it comes to words, but i don’t think this is something Harry would say to any of his kids, for the very same reasons i stated above. 

Harry cares about this, about the concept of family. he always cared about having a father, about having a family, about belonging and being loved. it’s not a secondary trait, it’s been one of his major insecurities growing up. so for him to say this? i don’t know man... 

i don’t find it unbelievable that Harry would unintentionally hurt Albus’ feelings, but i don’t think this is something Harry would even think subconsciously, so i find it very hard to swallow. 

i wish they had used a different line, or just played the scene differently, because this wasn’t it for me.

so, to sump up? i approve the concept, and i find it realistic and interesting. but then it has some parts where i’m just like.... *big sigh*

i’m not going to bash the entire play, because i do think it had some solid character building and relationships dynamics (that in my opinion need to be recognized). but some parts (like these ones) are just... not quite it, chief. 

tl;dr: i have a complex relationship with the cursed child 

[iamanartichoke]

I completely agree with your post about Tom. People’s entitlement over their favourite celebrities goes to far. And tbh I really hate when fans act like they know for sure how he feels and what he’s thinking based on very ambiguous “evidence”. This is usually done so people can align Tom’s views with their own which requires most of the time someone else to be villanised. What I mean is that fans have no actual proof that the writers, producers and director of Loki are bad people and that Tom is unhappy with the directions the show took. There is usually nothing to be inferred about who these people are beyond their merits as professionals. But fans present their assumptions as facts anyway and that has evolved into actual harassment of the production team. All the while piggybacking on this idea that Tom thinks exactly what like them. And I am saying this as someone who hated TR and thinks Loki was deliberately made weaker/less important so Thor could shine more. And someone who hates pretty much all of Mike Waldron’s previous work on Rick and Morty. But is still feels very presumptuous to act like these people deliberate compromised the their own work because they hate Loki and his fans. And that they are filled with every prejudice know to man. And it’s also very demeaning to victimise Tom in the process. Of course some of the people involved suck but most of the time these assumptions have no basis whatsoever. And there is also an over-identification going on between some fans and Tom which isn’t healthy for anybody.

Sorry it took me several days to get to this, anon. It took me a minute to get my thoughts in order. But in a nutshell, yeah, I agree with a lot of the things you pointed out here - especially with fans acting like they know for a fact what he's thinking or feeling.

Under the cut for length and a bit of wank and disagreement w/ the "Marvel hates Loki" discourse so please skip if you don't want to see it.

A lot of the Loki series wank is rooted in whether or not Tom actually likes the series and significantly contributed to it, or if he's just saying what he has to say for publicity and his ideas and contributions were largely ignored. None of us will ever know for sure, bc none of us are Tom and none of us were directly involved in the series, so it's moot speculation, really. But it seems to basically come down to people trying to reconcile their feelings about the show with their feelings about Tom.

I don't necessarily think there's anything wrong with believing that Tom's hands were tied to an extent and/or he just says things that he has to for promotion, but I also don't think that it should be treated as fact and then used as, like, ammunition against other people working on the show. I personally have not seen anyone I know or am friendly with taking their complaints to the level of harassment of actual people irl (that seems to be more of a twitter thing, as far as I can tell, and imo comes from an entirely different place than just hating the show [I think there's an inherent meanness in people whose instincts are to harass and bully bc they want to actively make others feel like shit]) but I do see it posted as fact, time and time again, that the showrunners had a personal vendetta against Loki and were intent on making the series as bad as possible, and that Tom was helpless to do anything about it.

Which I get, in a way, bc I personally believe that the Russos had, if not a vendetta, an active dislike of Loki and a vested interest in getting him "out of the way" in a manner that would make him look pathetic in IW - but, I certainly can't say that's the case for sure, and I also think it's a little different bc Tom's contractual obligations for his film appearances were likely very different than what he (and/or his people) negotiated for the show.

That's neither here nor there but my point is, I can understand where the theories come from but I just don't think that's the case here, and seeing it so often makes me feel kinda uncomfortable (for a lot of reasons but also) bc, imo, it undermines Tom's autonomy for fans to act as if he's little more than a puppet on a string, just saying whatever he has to say to please the powers that be. Like, yes, there are legally binding contracts that probably limit how candid he can be, and we all know that he sugarcoats things and never says anything bad about anyone, which can make him seem like a bit of an "unreliable narrator" when he gushes about the show -

- but, he's also a big name celeb (I mean, the studio has always banked on his name being attached to the project bc he's the one who would draw in the most viewers). He's got clout (is that the right word?) to back him up - they wanted him, specifically, to play Loki in this series. Without Tom, there's no show. So why would they want to alienate him, silence him, or dismiss him when he comes to the table and says "here are my ideas"?

My point is, it's unfair and, yes, demeaning to act as if Tom is this voiceless, powerless victim who has no choice but to act in a series he hated that was purposefully trying to destroy his character, and then to turn around and mindlessly sing its praises while promoting it.

I think that the truth is somewhere in the middle - Tom's creative control was likely limited bc he wasn't the director and wasn't the showrunner or head writer, and no one person is ever completely in control when it comes to the end result that we, the audience, end up seeing on the screen anyway. He may not have been entirely happy with every writing or directing choice that was made. But it's also very unlikely that he had no say at all or that any input he had was dismissed (or 95% of it, as it were); again, the series is banking on his name being the draw and he has the advantage of being an authority on Loki while also being intelligent and eloquent enough to convey his perspective on the character. I think that the real issue is that Tom's current perspective and/or interpretation of Loki no longer aligns with his interpretation of OG Loki from 2011-13. Which is, admittedly, a very hard pill to swallow.

Anyway, this may have veered off in another direction and idek if you wanted this answered or to have a conversation or maybe you were just venting - but, here we are.

To make it less about Loki specifically and more about Tom in general, though, yeah, ultimately I just wish his fans wouldn't feel so entitled toward him and his opinions, or his career choices, or his love life, or his clothes. I was browsing one of the Tom ask blogs (or maybe it was a Zawe one, I don't remember now) the other day and I find it really creepy, for lack of a better word, at how invested people are in Tom's, like, day-to-day whereabouts. Someone saw him at a restaurant in NYC - I wonder if he's still there today? Where's he staying? Is he there as a tourist or for work reasons? Who could he be meeting with in New York? A producer? Another play? Will he host SNL? Is Zawe still with him or did she go back to London? etc etc like, it really goes back to my original point in my original post which is, basically, who caaaaaaaares, why are you investing so much of your day trying to figure out what Tom is doing with his?

Now I'm just venting, but yeah ... shit's weird.

[blu-archer]

Mr. Park’s return

So, I’m not sure what to make of this really... like it’s not really a sickfic thing - I don’t know.. it might be, I’ll just say it classifies, it’s more of like a little continuation bit in this series and because I felt like writing about it... I’ve had this sitting with me for a while, so I may as well post it.. it felt a bit everywhere, there’s some knew characters I just tossed in because I needed too and we’ll just see where that leads, yeah? 

[there is probably grammatical errors, my first language is English I just can’t proof read - its a rough life] anyway, I hope this is somewhat enjoyable, its kind of a mess

This is supposed to be just a small filler type thing I guess

Snz based but like its rather mild.

‘Sickie’ : Jimin / [Felix? its faint really]/ [Yoongi is mentioned, but yeah]

 Hybrid AU

 Part 1,  Part 2 , Part 3

Word count: 5376

I tossed some Stray Kids in here because I love them too. 

“Good morning everyone.” Jimin smiled at the class of juniors settling in their seats as warmly as he could considering that he was still trying to recover from days of fever. He still felt tired and a weak, with some lingering symptoms, but he was tired staying at home doing nothing.  He needed to work again, get back into a routine so that he wasn’t lazing around all the time. So, he had suited up in warm clothes and more makeup than usual to hide the dark rings that had still not left him.

The class stared at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity before greeting him with about the same enthusiasm he had done to them. He supposed that was fair, it wasn’t like they knew who he was really.

He cleared his throat, dropping the exam booklets onto the desk set up in the front of the room, before continuing on with as much forced giddiness as he could manage. No one wanted to head into an exam with a dark unwelcoming mood, so if he could brighten it by even an inch then he would be happy.

 “I’m Mr. Park, I’ll be your teacher for this exam.” As if to serve as a reminder, something caught in his throat and he smothered a small bout of coughs into his arm. “Please excuse my voice, I’ve been a little under the weather.”

It didn’t take long before a few voices rose up, which was not surprising considering majority of the class had probably never seen him before. it had become blatantly obvious that most of the students had wanted to spend much more attention on their paper. He didn’t blame them, anyone would want to be distracted from exams and he usually wouldn’t mind, he loved to gossip and get to know the students and they always seemed to be as interested in him as he was in what they were like, but even with the amount of lozenges he’d sucked on that morning already, his voice was definitely going to give out if he spoke for long.

 “What do you teach Sir?”

“You look so young.”

“Mr. Park! What are you doing here?”

“Are you new?”

“What type of Hybrid are you?”

 Jimin looked to students who had spoken up. Most dressed or styled slightly different from the standard uniform, clearly these were the usual extrovert favourites. He tried to ignore the more intrusive questions and focus more on the ones of innocent curiosity. A wide grin split across his face and his sight narrowed as he recognised one girl that he taught in modern contemporary. Jimin pressed his square framed glasses further up his nose, his tail flicking as the girl waved her arm wildly from the back of the class.

 “Sana? Oh, it’s weird seeing you out of class.” Jimin chuckled lightly, giving a small wave in return. “Most of you probably won’t know me, but I’ve been a part of the dance faculty for I think about three years now. I usually only interacted in the other art departments during these times, but this year the school thought it would be better to shift things around a bit. I think I only know Sana… oh wait, Soobin’s here too. Wow, it feels like forever since I’ve seen you two…” His chest warmed with the pleasure of seeing at least some of his kids.

 “Sir, what are you doing back?” Soobin grinned and leant forward from when he sat on top of his friends desk. “Mr. Jung said that you probably wouldn’t be back for at least another week.”

 “Not quite.” Jimin corrected, moving closer to his student. “It’s just not as heavy a work-load as usual. Are you ready for your exams? And you Sana? I feel so bad for not being there in your final sessions.”

 “I think we’re both glad that you rested rather than pushed to be there with us.” Sana grinned, packing away her English textbooks. “I haven’t done mine yet but Soobin had his exam yesterday.”

Jimin’s eyes shot to the boy who merely shrugged, although the bright flash in the fae boys eyes led Jimin to believe he did better than he wanted to portray. Which was good. Great, actually. His students were amazing.

 “Ahhh… why do I get the feeling that none of you did any real dancing while I was away… Anyway, don’t stress over it. Deep breathes and smooth lines. It’s nothing you haven’t done before.” Jimin countered to Sana before stepping back to address the class once again, coughing into his arm again – slightly harsher this time. He answered and entertained a few more questions from the students that he didn’t know before finally calling it. “Okay, we should probably start soon. May everyone please start packing away any studying material. And is everyone present for this exam?”

 “Mr. Park, Sir.” A trio of girls, each with unique traits that led him to believe they were all either warlocks or fae, waved to him from the side of the class closest to the wall of windows.

 “Yes?”

 “So, you’re a dancer, Mr. Park? Can you show us something?” The one with golden eyes smirked and Jimin’s chest tightened, knowing that her suggestive tone wasn’t one of humour or general curiosity. Kids. They were kids.

 “I am, but we have more important things.” He chose to ignore the low whining that erupted from them. “Clear your desks please, you don’t seem to be going over notes anyway. I am assuming that everyone is here, which means we are going to begin.”

   He returned to the desk without glancing at the girls again. The session had officially started.

Once desks were clear he began to hand out transcripts, only letting them turn through the pages once each student had one. It was a bit of a struggle, with how hoarse his voice was quickly becoming – given that he hadn’t needed to use it as much in the past few days as he was now, but he managed to read through the paper with them to make sure there were no immediate errors then set them forth on the 3-hour paper. Even though it made him drowsy he snuck a few pills in after he stifled a sneeze into his wrist. He wanted to try keep any and all symptoms to a minimum as to not distract anyone, but it was difficult when the class only had the scribbling sound of pens on paper to fill it with noise.

He sipped the tea from his flask that he was certain Yoongi had spiked with some type of herbal energy booster before Jimin had left that morning. The hybrid couldn’t help the wholesome warmth that ran through him at the thought of the worrisome warlock. Despite Yoongi being powerful and often intimidating to those who didn’t know him, Jimin knew that the elder was in-fact a big softy that was usually too shy to address things that  stressed him out. Especially if it was about the people he cared for. Instead he was prone to small actions that he thought would help lift any burdens or stressors, for both him and whoever he helped – in this case, Jimin. Yoongi hadn’t even wanted him to start at the school again yet, even for short hours, but after the hybrid had spoken some sense into him – that it was Jimin’s job and everyone, including Yoongi himself, had  worked while sick at some point – Yoongi eventually caved.

Although that didn’t stop him from being a bit clingier than usual, and definitely didn’t stop him from wrapping Jimin entirely in the Warlocks clothes so that his scent was with him all day. Not that Jimin minded being completed drenched in the elders scent and the clothes that were just a bit too big for him always made him feel warm and comforted. The last week that Jimin had spent at home with his boyfriend had been amazing, even if he had been a miserable mess for most of it.

Jimin had just finished firing off emails to the other dance staff members about how everything was going with the dance exams and if there are still students looking for last minute help when he felt the sad realisation that his med’s had been easing off. He hadn’t brought enough for a second dose and he could already feel his nose starting to run. The exam was almost over, just another hour or so and then he was free to be a mess again. But that wasn’t what his body had in mind.

He’inxshew… hih..Hieshxngt hXNGst..

 Damn it.

Jimin sniffed and wiped at his nose with a tissue. Thankfully he had thought to bring quite a few of the tissue travel packs with him, Yoongi had tried to slip an entire box of Kleenex into Jimin’s bag but the hybrid found that to be a bit excessive. His tail curled around his waist as he felt the gazes of a few of the students that were already finished or were checking through their work, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He sniffed repeatedly, trying to be as soft and quiet as possible but it only seemed to make matters worse as he snapped forward with another sneeze that he caught by pinching at his nose. Stifling was a bit painful, especially with how congested he had been, but he would bear with it.

He stifled four more before he had to come to terms with the fact that he could not try to sniffle to keep it at bay anymore. So he claimed fresh tissues to blow his nose, wincing and sending apologetic eyes to the students at the wet gurgling sound that filled the room. Jimin’s face was heated and he swallowed hard trying to work past his embarrassment. The students probably didn’t even care that much. But he still felt like the floor should open to let him fall through it.

He perked as a hand shot up, the student mouthing for more paper. Jimin threw away his tissues, doing his best to ignore how gross he was momentarily felt, and after a quick squirt his trusty hand sanitiser that Jin made him carry,  he was up and handing out pages. Taking that moment of already being up to slowly walk around and check if anyone else needing anything from him. He tried not to linger too much when he noticed Soobin gnawing at his bottom lip. A quick glance and Jimin could tell that the boy was struggling with understanding some of the things being asked of him and he didn’t want to add any extra pressure of being hovered over. Clearly the boy was unfortunately – in this case - closer inclined to the creative arts than he was to general studies.

 “Si-Sir?”

 Jimin followed the soft whisper to a thin, pale dog hybrid who looked anxious just to have to look Jimin in the eye. Jimin cleared his throat to try get rid of the insistent itch that seemed to plague him and leant down so that the boy wouldn’t have to look up at him when he spoke. It wasn’t often that someone reacted intimidated by Jimin, so he was left a bit unsure. The few handfuls of times that he could remember being anything close to scary were strictly associated with his dancers or the few times he got into arguments with his friends, but usually everyone saw him as a soft and gentle hybrid that they could either try to walk all over or have pleasant easy conversations with. No real threat.

Jimin rested his hand on the edge of the desk to steady himself, then silently inclined his head to indicate that the boy could continue.

 “I-I don’t feel.. feel well.”

 Jimin gently rested a hand on the boys back only to frown at how sharp the hybrid’s bones were beneath his clothing. “What do you mean? Are you stressed? Sick? Do you feel nauseous?”

The boy merely nodded and swallowed loudly, sinking further away from Jimin.

 “Do you want to go to the nurse?” he asked softly. Looking more closely at the boys’ face, his oddly sharp facial structure and sunken cheeks. He had originally seen the bruises under the boys eyes as a part of the exam season stress but maybe there was something else happening.. When he got the nod of approval Jimin set his hand on the boys exam paper. “Do you want to keep this for now, or should I take it?”

 “Take it.”  

 Okay then. Jimin stood up, slipping the exam paper from the students desk, and bringing it back to his station, making note of the foreign name, ‘Felix’, filled in at the top right corner. Then he moved to the intercom attached to the wall behind his desk chair and held the button that connected him to the head office. “Hi, could we please have someone come to room 48? I need a student to be taken to the nurses office.”

A garbled reply came back at him that he could only hope meant that someone would be sent soon. In the meantime, Jimin dug in his bag until he retrieved a sealed bottle of water. It wasn’t as cold as it had been when he had bought it, but it would do. He returned to the boy who had now buried his face into his hands, taking deep shaky breaths.

 “Felix… can you try taking some small sips of water for me?” Jimin knelt beside the desk once more, twisting off the cap of the bottle. “Just a few? When last did you eat or drink something?”

He didn’t get much of a response other than the hybrid lifting his head enough to look at the open water before shakily taking it from Jimin. He took the smallest of sips before just sitting there with his eyes tightly shut.

 “Okay.” Jimin rubbed Felix’s back and stood up again, coughing into his arm before letting out a restrained groan. “Everyone, you have 40 minutes left. If you’re finishing off or just sitting there, then go through your answers again and make sure you’ve read the questions carefully.”  

 It was almost ten minutes before Jimin heard a soft knock on the door.

Felix had been sitting with his hands pressed tightly against his eyes, leaning heavily on his elbows while taking stuttering breaths. Jimin had been hovering with concern, but there wasn’t anything he could really do to help. The dog hybrid pretty much shunned him every time he murmured a gentle question or soothing words.

Jimin left his spot next to the sick boy, giving a quick glance over the class to find that at least a third of them were watching him and not going over their work like he’d encouraged, but he called out a brief ‘half an hour left’ and moved to open the door.

 “Jimin?”

 “Jin.” Jimin let out a heavy breath, running a finger under his nose before leaning closer to the concerned elder. Silently thanking that their office employees had thought to call the school nurse directly and not some random other teacher to walk the boy to a better environment. “Hi, I’m not sure how sick this boy is, but he has a fever and I think he might be nauseous. He couldn’t tell me if it was from anxiety or something else so… He didn’t seem too keen on talking to me at all actually. I just gave him water.”

Jin nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans before stepping forward to move into the class. For a moment he looked like he wanted to question Jimin on something else but thought better of it.

 “Where are they?”

Jimin pointed him out and then stood back, trying his best to watch over the rest of the class and not interfere with Jin as he prompted a few words out of Felix – mostly about what he felt like and whether he was okay to walk - before helping him stand. The witch had to wrap an arm around the boys waist to kept him steady and they were forced to move at a slow pace, but Jin just murmured soft barely audible words of encouragement until they’d reached the door. Jimin lay a steadying hand on Jin’s arm before biting at his lip.

 “Do you need help getting back? I can ask the office to send another person..”

 “We’re fine Jimin.” Jin reassures, his hand rubbing gently at Felix’s side. “I know him, I’d rather just move slowly and not stress him out too much. You can come by in a bit if you’re worried, but I’ve got it.”

 Jimin let them go, closing the door softly behind them trying to ignore the tears that had sprung to Felix’s eyes as soon as the pair had left the room. Distracted, he gave a final slow walk through the rows of students. Most of them were finished now, some had lain down over their desks while others fiddled with their stationery. He gave a pleased nod to see that at least two students where carefully reading through their work and added to certain places, and then he passed Soobin. The boy had completely drawn over the back of his exam paper with dark detailed sketches that  couldn’t have been done quickly. Jimin winced at the thought of how the boys answers must look, and took it has a hint to sit the rest of the time at his desk where he sipped at the final bit of his now lukewarm tea.

He sent a few carefree texts to Yoongi, who had been complaining bitterly about having to stay at home for the day. Apparently he had tried to talk Namjoon into letting him work but the clumsy witch had threatened to jinx the elder if Yoongi came in to work. Jimin smiled at his boyfriend’s irritated messages, knowing that the warlock was probably still in bed despite him having his studio there if he really wanted to work.

He still felt a bit bad about getting Yoongi sick, but the warlock had thankfully always been a quick healer, so hopefully if he rested for a day or two then he would be fine. Jimin sent a final ‘see you in a bit! Love you!’ before he readied up the exam folder to retrieve the papers.

 He coughed once into his fist, pushing up his glasses instinctively afterwards, then gave a soft smile. “Okay guys, if anyone is still writing I’m going to need you to stop.”

*

   “Jin? You in here?” Jimin peeked into the small nurses office only to find it empty, ignoring how his voice had cracked. The desk had been pushed neatly to the side and had an open medical bag with some scattered medications on it but other than that and the locker off to the side that held Jin’s personal things, the room was impeccably clean. Although that shouldn’t surprise him, it was a nurses office. “Soekjin?”

 He heard a soft reply and then Jin appeared, ducking through the white curtain that basically blended into the wall. The sectioned off area for those that needed a bed to lay down in, if Jimin remembered correctly.

  “Yeah, hey.” Jin smiled and tugged at the collar of his shirt before collapsing into his chair with a sigh. “Sorry, I’ve been running everywhere.”

 “Mr. Popularity.” Jimin teased and entered properly into the room to lean against the second chair across from his friend. He flipped a small backpack up and dropped it onto the empty seat. “Felix left this. I didn’t want to leave it there in case there was something important inside. He can just fetch it from here whenever he’s back at school.”

 “He hasn’t left yet.” Jin let out a breath much heavier than before. His expression darker than what Jimin was used to seeing on him. “He stays in a foster home with a whole bunch of other kids, his guardians are always a bit preoccupied with the younger children. I think they like to think that the older kids can fend for themselves a lot better than what they actually can, but yeah. They were called, but his foster brother will probably be the one to fetch him after his classes for uni end.”

 Jimin frowned deeply. His chest ached in sympathy for the timid hybrid that had seemed close to passing out earlier. “Is he… okay?”

 “Mostly.” Jin shrugged, glancing back to the curtained area he had come through. “He threw up a few times and put up more of a fight than I thought possible when I tried to get him to drink a potion. I had to resort to just standard medicine, but it won’t be as effective.  Seems like a flu.”

 “I felt awful that I couldn’t really help earlier.” Jimin admitted with a small sniff, rubbing at the tip of his nose swiftly. “He seemed scared to tell me anything, but I don’t know… maybe he just really wasn’t feeling well.”

 Jin shook his head. “This isn’t his first foster home, he got moved around a lot. From his file and the times he’s spoken to me, he has a bit of a rocky history with cat hybrids – of course his experiences kind of dealt more with predatory breeds but I suppose he just kind of categorised.”

 Now Jimin felt worse. He bit at his lip and locked his eyes onto the curtain as if he would be able to see the boy through the material. Was he asleep, or was he listening? Jimin’s throat tightened at the thought of having scared the dog hybrid. He didn’t really like causing someone else unnecessary stress, especially if there was a history of something … what, abusive? Maybe?

 “I didn’t realise… Why was he sent to school if he wasn’t feeling well?”

 “Beats me. Probably didn’t say anything, he’s only really comfortable with a few people and I don’t think he expects to rely on his foster parents.” Jin says quietly. “He’s a good kid, though. Very funny and loud when he wants to be. He just needs to open up to others a bit more, stop feeling like a burden and maybe participate a bit more.”

 Jimin nodded, twisting at one of his rings. “It’s hard sometimes, I get that. If he ever wants to he’s more than welcome to come by the dance studio’s. We sometimes hold after school classes for those that are curious or need extra practices. It might be a bit late to switch to it as a subject, but I’m willing to teach him a few things when he’s feeling better, maybe it will help in terms of meeting new people. Or I can ask Hobi if he can teach him a few things if he’ll feel more comfortable with a human teacher.”    

 “I’ll let him know.” Jin let out a huff of a laugh. “How are you? Feeling better about being back?”

 Jimin grinned widely, leaning heavily onto the chair. “Loads better, Yoongi helped me a lot. I’m still a bit stuffy –“

 “And your voice is super hoarse.” Jin said, then smiled teasingly as Jimin whined, his ears drooping a little.

 “Yeah, I know… But I really do feel better. I’m tired now but I’m happy to be back at work, I missed my kids. I got see two of my students during the exam, although I don’t think I have a lot of faith in the ones English skills. … its fine though.” Jimin straightened up and gave a dramatic wave of his hands. “He won’t need good marks in standard school, he’ll go far in dancing.”

 Jin pulled a face at Jimin’s words causing the younger to let out a small giggle.

“Maybe not fail the standard schooling, but you get what I mean. He’s going places whether he gets those marks or not.”

 “Sure, Minnie. Just don’t tell him that he doesn’t need to get good marks in other things.” Jin advised teasingly. “That’s not the best way to educate the next generation.”

 A gentle knock on the office door had Jimin jumping in fright, his ears drawn back, and fur raised, only to see two boys hovering outside. He vaguely recognised one from seeing him in hallways but the shorter one was unfamiliar, they both had soft fae-like features and wide innocent eyes. The taller was still dressed in the academies uniform while the other was dressed entirely in baggy black clothes that reminded Jimin of Yoongi. Although he doubted Yoongi would willingly get a lip and eyebrow piercing… maybe Jimin could talk him into it…

 “Hey, Chan. You got here fairly quickly.” Jin rose from his seat. “ I think he’s asleep right now, but I’ll wake him up and give him a final look over.”

 “Thank you so much Mr. Kim.” The dark one said, smiling brightly at Jin before nodding a greeting at Jimin.

He gave a soft ‘Hi’ before he pulled the light backpack off of the seat and handed it to the one Jin had addressed. “Here’s his bag.”

 “Thank you.” Chan accepted it quickly and gratefully.

 “Aren’t you one of the dance teachers? On the other side of the school?” The student, who looked about the same age as Felix despite being taller than both Chan and Jimin. “I saw you in that theatre performance thing like three months ago… right?”

 Jimin nodded, assuming that the boy was talking about the fundraiser that the school did that was mostly a time for the students to see the staff make fools of themselves doing dances or skits – or in his and the rest of the performance arts staffs’ case, their talent and skills being flaunted in their natural habitats.

 “Yep, I’m a modern – contemporary instructor, but I help out in the hip hop sector when I’m needed.”

 The boys face lit up at knowing he was right. “You’re dancing is so cool. You were so graceful on stage, it looked really beautiful.”

Jimin smiled and felt his cheek warm. Jin had disappeared behind the curtain and Chan was watching Jimin with a small smile.

 “I remember now. I went and watched with him and some of our other brothers.” Chan added. “He kind of became obsessed with dance after that.”

 His cheeks burned and he let out a soft nervous cough into his fist. “That’s kind, thank you. Are you… all in the same Foster family as Felix?”

 Chan nodded before adding. “I don’t live there anymore, but I still spend time with some of them there, kind of become like real brothers, you know?”

 Jimin nodded, stilling feeling a bit off about thinking of them in a foster home. “Well I was just telling Jin that he was welcome to come by the studios if he ever felt interested in dance. As a way to open up a bit. I’m not sure if Felix would join if I taught him, but you’re welcome to join myself or Mr. Jung as well if you want – um..”

 “Hyunjin.” The boy said eagerly. “That’s so cool. I really want to, I wanted to take classes, but our guardians couldn’t pay for the extra fee.”

 Jimin bit back his grimace. It was unfortunate that students had to pay an extra amount for specialised classes but there wasn’t much he could do besides over informal schooling.

 “Well, we can organise once or twice a week to help you guys out. You actually look like the right build for a dancer, probably wont struggle too much…”

 Jin reappeared with the small dog hybrid following close behind, looking a bit steadier on his feet than before but still nowhere near healthy enough to be at school. Felix hesitated at the sight of him but didn’t stop for long before he move to sink into Chan’s arms. Jin spoke about some of the hybrids symptoms and what he’d need to take as well as giving a few things to watch out for and what to do if it got worse just in case their guardians got busy. Jimin moved back, letting the two boys move closer to their brother in the office. It was cute to see the three of them together, so different and yet there was a clear sense of family. Jimin sniffed only to regret it as a sharp piercing lemon scent that was no doubt coming from Felix flooded his senses. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t smelt it earlier, perhaps it was because Felix was feeling safe – in any case, Jimin blinked hard. He pressed a finger secretly to his nose, but it only seemed to aggravate the itch. Damn it, he had really hoped that he had finished with this earlier – he had blown his nose enough times after leaving the class, but apparently not.

‘He’ingxt’ah.. h’ingxsh..hih..hih’IGTSHiew…’ He cringed as he felt eyes land on him but couldn’t do anything else but keep his hand covering his face. ‘hih’itchshew… h’IShiew..’

 “Bless you, Jimin.”

 Jimin groaned and pulled a face, giving a soft and somewhat nervous sniffle. It seemed to be the end of it thankfully. Everyone was looking at him, but thankfully they didn’t seem to really care. “Thanks…”

 “Thought you were better, hmm?”

 “Jin,” Jimin pursed his lips and resisted the urge flick him. “Shut up. I’m fine now, just... lingering stuff.”

Jin hummed but Jimin knew he was only trying to be annoying.

 “okay well, I’ll head out then.” Jimin clapped his hands together awkwardly, no longer wanting to stay in the room in case he was going to start being sensitive to any more scents.

 “Tell Yoongi to feel better for me, Min.” Jin said as he wrote down the names of specific medications that would be the most long lasting for a hybrid.

Remembering the adorable sight he had left his boyfriend in that morning, Jimin spun around with a cheery gasp and wide glimmering eyes that had Jin laughing loudly, the other three in the room just blinking with bemusement at the suddenly change.

 “Get home Jimin! That wasn’t an invitation to start blabbering about your boyfriend. Actually, I’m very annoyed at you – It’s your fault that I didn’t get my extra Namjoon-day yesterday. I was devastated! Devastated Jimin!” Jin scolded him without even trying to suppress his smile.

 “You can sleep with your husband whenever you want Jin. No one is stopping you.” A pen smacked into his chest and Jimin bubbled with laughter as he danced out of range of the book that had come flying soon after the first projectile. “Don’t throw things at me!”

 “Yah! Don’t say inappropriate things in front of students, you bratty cat!”

 “They know what sex is!” Jimin argued playfully, coughing lightly as he caught the next book that came flying at his face. “So sensitive. Has it been that long?”

 “I should have never befriended you. I have to rethink my life choices.” Jin shook his head as he sent Felix an exasperated look. The dog hybrid was watching the interaction with wide, watery eyes.

 “Bye, Soekjin.” Jimin laughed, handing the book he had caught to Hyunjin. “I’ll let Yoongi know you care. If you want… I can ask him to make up something special to help-“

“GO HOME, BRAT!”

 Jimin pranced away, hearing the soft curses that Jin threw after him. Home. Despite how mixed his feelings were after finding out about Felix’s family life, he couldn’t help but be filled with a flood of warmth at the thought of his boyfriend waiting for him. Most likely still cuddled up into the warm nest Jimin had rearranged for him, unless the elder had decided to use energy to make food or something, but that seemed particularly doubtful after he had messaged Jimin about how lucid he felt and about the mountain of tissues creating a new city on the floor of their bedroom.

It was endearing… possibly contagious to anyone else that stepped fought into their house but somehow, very endearing.

[sunfoxfic]

So.um. I know you have answered a lot of asks before about the subs Vs dubs thing and feel free to squip this. But.

I had been following this person and one day I just saw dash fill up with French dub supremacy stuff which I didn't really appreciate since I think every dub is different and amazing on it's own.(I don't like comparing dubs in sense saying one dub is "SuPeRIor". I don't understand any language other than eng and I can't connect well with the characters in other languages BUT I digress)

And this person was low-key being so pretentious and obnoxious about it?? So I unfollowed them. But now...I don't want to miss out on anything, you know? I checked their blog after a few days just because of curiosity and they seemed to really push the French dub agenda and so I just. BLOCKED THEM.

Now, I wanted to know whether I am overreacting?? I just find this person's tone of speaking in general to be really kinda annoying even though they did say it was light-hearted:/

And also this is quite unrelated but this is actually something I need some opinions on but there are one or two REALY popular analysis and content creating blogs who I blocked and I kind of feel really...idk man I just feel like I want to make content too! Like I like their content but the fact that it is THEIR content and I don't want to come across them ever again and I just. wish I could make cool stuff like others do too:(

I tried taking breaks from the fandom and though they helped, I still want to be awesome like the others in this fandom...

Anyway, sorry my thoughts are all over the place lol

Look. Tumblr, in recent times, has become very fond of the idea of cultivating your own internet experience and blocking gratuitously. But so many people are programmed to other parts of the internet where this is a huge taboo and blocking is A Big Deal. So I'm here to say it:

You want to block someone for some reason but it feels unnecessary or unkind? You think that this block is the exception because it's too mean or too superficial?

No. This is not the exception. That block is justified because you don't need to justify anything.

Now, I am well acquainted with blocking someone but still seeing them come up on my dash and feeling... somehow, angry that they're on my dash at all. Like it's the people I'm following's fault for reblogging from them (which it isn't, though I did make a meme-y post about that earlier this week because I saw a mutual reblogging from someone I blocked on Not Good Terms after some Discourse occurred). (Also, that mutual saw the post and is blissfully unaware, which I plan to keep it that way because it's not my job to tell them who to block.)

I've blocked for petty reasons before. Normally, I don't do that; normally, I just unfollow. But you really need to remember that people are allowed to be wrong about some things and right about other things, and being wrong about one thing doesn't make them any less right about the others. It's a hard pill to swallow, Jesus I am struggling to choke it down myself, but at some point, you need to make peace with the fact that some people are wrong sometimes and that doesn't mean you should let that ruin when they're right.

Which is to say: I'm really trying hard to not get angry when I see mutuals reblogging (correct) analyses from people who are wrong. In particular, there's a really big analysis blog who had some pretty nasty opinions back when Mega Leech rehashed sentiAdrien, and I blocked them. All the way back in what, July? August? When was Mega Leech released?

They're mostly a good analysis blog. I don't want their blog on my dash because I think they've got some shitty opinions and spread quite a bit of negativity. But mutuals reblogging their posts isn't a sin, especially because my mutuals are currently cultivated so that their posts which make it to my dash are things I agree with. Because being wrong didn't make them right.

At some point, you have to resist the temptation to hit "View this Tumblr" when Tumblr says, "You have this Tumblr blocked, so we've hidden it from your view." I'm not saying I succeed every time. But at some point, you have to be angry at what they said (in one specific instance of time) and not what they're saying (right now, currently).

There's so many great ML positive blogs out there. There's a lot of analysis blogs that hold opinions I disagree with but hold them in reasonable ways where they aren't obnoxious about it and it doesn't ruin my experience to have them on my dash.

Do not feel about about unfollowing and blocking. If you need to, don't feel bad about putting their URL into the "filter content" option in settings. You aren't overreacting. But at the same time, your behavior will exemplify your mindset, and behaving in line with the anger that you feel will only make it worse.

People are allowed to be wrong, but when they're right, they're no less right for it. It's not a sin to reblog a post where they're somewhere in the reblog chain if you agree with that post. And being mindful of that has made it a lot easier to make my dash not make me hate myself because you cannot control who the people you're following have blocked.