#i swear it's getting worse

[hazmatilda]

Someone tell me why I was almost crying from pain today from. wearing jeans and walking to the shops.

[klavichord]

My hearing has been so bad lately ahhhh

[kensatou]

[shiiro-arts]

The fact that this is actually canon…

[asktheemotions]

what would've happened if the other emotions didnt forgive anxiety?

UPDATE FOR INSIDE OUT ASK BLOG:

I have been on vacation and still am! This is why I haven't posted in a while.

I'm trying to finish the next ask but I also have been trying to enjoy my time with my extended family, I hope you guys can understand.

But! Here is the first 3 pages for the next ask while you wait!

Pages 3/15

Question: What would’ve happened if the other emotions didn’t forgive Anxiety?

Prev<< Bonus< Cover >Bonus >>Next

[orangepajamas]

[casually gets overstimulated]

[bucketsofmonsters]

Deep Water - Part 4

cw: the ocean, animal carcasses, rotting, malnourishment, more tags to be added as the story continues

merman x fem reader

Word count: 3k

read on ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You woke up disoriented on an unfamiliar floor, the steady sounds of snoring filling your ears. 

You turned to see Finn, still fast asleep as you rose from your little spot on the floor. He was bundled up in blankets, his head just barely peeking out of them enough to breathe. 

You didn’t want to bother him. He’d done so much for you, the last thing you wanted to do was to disturb his rest. 

In your attempt to begin to get ready without disturbing him, you managed to get your feet tangled in the loose blankets below you and tumble back to the floor.

You quickly righted yourself just in time to see Finn begin to shift, waking fitfully. 

He groaned, eyes barely peeking open to look up at you. “Is… Oh. I forgot you were here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He tried to wave dismissively but in his half-asleep state, it looked more like he attempted to clumsily swat a fly out of the air.

He rose from the bed slowly, a little unsteady on his feet.  “I’ll find you some clothes.”

You took him in as he moved to the drawers beside the bed. He was a little scrawnier than the average man working on the docks and only a few inches taller than you, but still, you were sure that his clothes would fit you awkwardly, if at all. “You really don’t have to do that, my clothes are mostly dry now.”

“Nonsense, I have just the thing for you.”

And then he pulled out a dress, a practical one with reasonable skirts and allowance for movement. A dress you’d seen before. 

You reeled back a little as you asked, “Why do you have my sister’s clothes?”

It came out harsher than you’d intended it to. Maybe the shock was to blame, you weren’t certain. 

He deflated at your words, crumpling in on himself, his shoulders slumping as his face fell. 

“I should have told you,” he said, visibly mortified. “I know I should have. You just… you look just like her.”

The realization hit you instantly. “You two were…”

“I wasn’t trying to replace her,” he said, rushing in to cut you off. “I mean, I couldn’t replace her even if I did want to. It was just… it was nice to see you. I could almost pretend, just a little.”

The more he tried to justify it, the more your heart sank. “How long were you together?” you asked, your voice flat and distant.”

“Years. She was everything to me.” His voice was low and sad, sadness that you were sure was for her and not for you, standing betrayed in front of him. Why would it be for you? How selfish could you be?

You almost wished he’d yelled at you. Then maybe it wouldn’t make you feel so bad. He seemed devastated and apologetic and all the things he could be and yet now that you knew you could just tell. You could see him looking at you like you were her, with faux, unearned affection in his eyes behind the heartbreak. 

It made you furious. You wanted to throw something, to shout at him, to demand to be seen as a person, to be removed from her shadow. 

But he was grieving, just as you were. Probably more. 

The least you could to was be kind. 

So you gave him a half-hearted, soft pat on his shoulder and tried to paint as much sympathy accross your face as you could manage.

“You didn’t mean any harm,” you said, and you knew it was true. 

It still stung. 

And then you took the dress from his hands, his grip softening as you reached for it, and you left. 

You found an empty room to change in and went off to work as quickly as you could.

The next few weeks passed quickly, settling into an easy routine. Without Finn hovering over your shoulder as you worked, you were free to move quickly and mindlessly, doing your job exactly as intended and no more. 

You stopped by to see Simon almost every day. The days you couldn’t, held up late at the docks, he no longer threw a complete fit. There was huffing and pouting but he hadn’t kindaped you again and you considered that progress.

In fact, after the stunt he’d pulled, he seemed hesitant to even get near you, like even his presence was tainted now. He was more careful than he’d been, asking before he did anything. 

You supposed it was preferable over the alternative. 

You and Finn had grown distant. He was clearly trying to give you space but you couldn’t quite breach that gap and bring yourself to talk to him so instead you let him fade away, sharing quiet polite smiles when you saw one another and nothing more. Your only real friend here now gone. Other than your monster that you still caught glimpses of below the docks, no matter how many times you warned him that it was ill-advised.

You didn’t mind going to see him. There was very little understanding between you but it felt nice, having him so eager to meet with you every day, shifting uncomfortably in shallow water that he braved for you. 

It had been a bad day. 

Nothing had happened, not really, but that awful ship was back. Every time you saw it, a wave of nausea overtook you, brought back to you kicking and screaming on the deck, inhaling rain as you huffed in breaths. 

Finn had shot you a concerned look or two as he apparently read your nerves off your face, but he had kept his distance, respectful and stomach-churning. 

You wanted him to come check in on you, something he clearly wanted to do, but you still refused to go speak with him first. You couldn’t do it, couldn’t return to him like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, offering yourself as your sister’s replacement if he’d just speak to you.  

So instead, at the end of an awful day, you scurried off the docks to your spot, content that you’d at least get to see your siren. 

On the shore, where you usually sat, lay the tail end of a sea lion, bloody with bones sticking out, looking almost rotted.

You looked into the water to find amber eyes staring back at you, wide and expectant. 

You knew instantly he’d brought it here, though you couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t a fresh kill, instead looking like it had been pulled off a beach somewhere where it’d washed up. 

A sense of shame flickered in his eyes, fighting back a grimance as you noticed it. 

“Do you want it?” he asked, head nodding towards the carcass.

“No,” you said, and he reeled back, not looking surprised but seeming upset all the same. 

“It’s the best I could do,” he said, eyes downcast. “I’ve been trying to find something better but I’m not built for this.”

His voice was tinged in a sense of bitterness and frustration and you wished you knew what he was talking about so you could comfort him. Or at least understand why he was upset. 

“Built for what? Why is this here?”

“It was supposed to be food,” he said with a huff. “I have nothing for you. I can’t provide you anything.”

“Provide me… You don’t need to provide for me, I can get my own food.”

“You shouldn’t have to. I want to… I want to show you I can keep you safe but I can’t. Couldn’t even keep you fed.”

As he spoke, you really took him in, sitting behind a rotting carcass that wasn’t fit for anyone to eat. 

What had he been eating if after weeks, this was the best he could bring you?

And then it struck you, the way he’d begun positioning himself in the shallows, stomach carefully down, arms in front of it, shifted away from you. 

“Come here,” you said, trying to keep your words soft. 

He looked like he was about to cry but he shifted forwards all the same. 

You fought back a gasp as he finally let you get a good look at him. 

He looked emaciated. Where soft, plump skin used to be, it instead had begun to pull taught over ribs that looked sharper than the human ribs you were accustomed to. 

With the new context, you could see it in his face too, his full cheeks beginning to bow in.

“What happened to you?” you asked, cursing yourself that you could have missed this, could have let him keep his distance and hide this from you so easily. 

“I’m not good at hunting,” he said, rufusing to meet your gaze. 

“You were fine before, what changed?”

He shifted and you could see a war waging inside his head, the conflict written accrosss his features. 

You waited, owing him patience at least. 

Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and he spoke, still sad and low but with a sense of finality rising behind it. 

“We’re not hunters, we’re not built for it. Not fast enough or sharp enough. We’re built to lure in prey but… you’re a person. If I hadn’t stopped to talk to you, you’d just be gone, drowned and devoured, and I wouldn’t even have known that it hurt, let alone… I can’t do it anymore,” his words had shifted from sad and low to frustrated and sharp. “I can’t hunt so I can’t eat fish but I can’t do it anymore. Every time I look at them I keep just seeing you.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes at the thought that you had done this to him. The revelation that he’d been eating humans fell by the wayside at the sight of sad eyes on a gaunt face that used to be warm and soft.

And you couldn’t even do anything about it. You didn’t have the resources to get him fish, not after the measly few weeks you’d spent here. You had barely managed to find yourself lodgings in a grimy old inn, barely eating enough to keep up your strength. 

But you had to. You couldn’t just leave him to this, in this situation that you’d dragged him into when you’d gotten thrown off that ship. When on the worst day of your life, he saw easy prey in front of him and decided to be kind. 

And then an idea came to you. An awful idea, sure, but the only one you had. 

You muttered a quiet “wait here” before you stood up and sprinted back to the dock, knowing you had to catch him before he left. 

Finn’s face lit up when he saw you nearing him, relief pulling the tension out of his shoulders and bringing a soft smile to his face. 

You grabbed his hand and with a soft noise of confusion escaping him, you dragged him down to your isolated little spot on the beach. 

The whole time you pulled him along, as he followed you without question, you tried to think how to explain any of this to him. 

You kept moving as you wracked your brains, needing to solve this, needing to know it could be fixed, and you came up with nothing.  

Anything would be better than just bringing him in blind, a fact you realized seconds too late, arriving at your spot on the shore. 

You saw the panic in Simon’s eyes seconds before disaster hit. Right before Finn noticed him, he was being snatched into the water, pale arms hooked under his armpits, holding him down in the shallows. It seemed mainly like shock and confusion that kept Finn down. Submerged in deep water he wouldn’t stand a chance, but here, in the shallows, against a malnourished and emotional siren; he could’ve taken him easily.

But he didn’t, instead thrashing a little with eyes wide and he tried to take in the simultaneous facts that sirens were real and that one had just dragged him into the water. 

“He’s here to help, drop him,” you snapped, shooting a harsh look at Simon. 

“I didn’t even do anything wrong,” he said, a grouchy look crossing his face as he let Finn go, drifting nervously back into the water. You recognized it for what it was. He was preparing for his escape, just in case. 

You didn’t blame him for the instinct. To be honest, it was a good one. Blind trust like that in anyone could get him killed. 

You hoped this wouldn’t be one of those times. You hoped you’d prove him wrong. 

Your hand snapped out to grab Finn’s wrist as he tried to stagger away, eyes wide and frightened.

“Finn,” you said, keeping your voice measured and level. “This is Simon. He’s a friend.”

You didn't think you'd ever seen such panic and betrayal in his eyes, his face normally light and happy. He was breathing heavy, eyes darting between the two of you like he couldn't quite believe he wasn't about to get pulled back in.

Finn looked down at your hand encircling his wrist. He tested his strength against yours, almost pulling away before deciding to let you keep him there. Ever patient, he didn’t take the out, he didn't run. He waited, by your side, nervous but steady.

His breaths slowed, taking stock of Simon in the water.

You weren’t sure who looked more frighted, both sizing one another up, ready to bolt should the need arise. 

You left them to it, terrified that any sudden movement would shatter the tentative peace that was forming between them. 

He nodded slowly, eyes not moving from Simon, shivering slightly in newly wetted clothes. “And why exactly,” he began, eyes locked onto Simon, “did you want me to meet this friend of yours?”

“Um. So he wants to stop eating people,” you said, wincing as you heard yourself and the reality of what you'd just said sunk in.

“He eats people?” Finn asked, his voice spiking up in panic as his head whipped towards you.

“And he would like to stop. If we can’t help him, what do you think he’s going to start doing again?”

“It’s not my fault!” Simon huffed from the water. “The fish don’t hate you for eating them, why do you get to be mad at me?”

“The fish aren’t people,” Finn insisted, arms wrapping around himself as he shivered in the cold air. 

“And you aren’t sirens. I thought you were stupid anyway, like fish.”

“You thought we were like fish?”

Simon shrugged. “Not like fish. But the difference from you to fish is like the difference from you to me. Or… I thought so. We might have been wrong. I don’t know, I just eat.”

He seemed uncomfortable with having to explain himself, shifting in the water as he glanced at you every few seconds. 

It took a moment for you to realize what he was looking for. It was approval, you could see him searching for it in your eyes. 

You weren’t sure you could give it to him. Your stomach churned at his words but you could feel how earnest he was, could hear the confusion and distress in his voice.

He hadn’t thought he was doing anything wrong. Why would he? He was just doing what sirens had always done and now he wasn’t so sure about it any longer and his whole past was filled with deaths he didn’t know if he could justify anymore. 

How would you feel, you wondered, if you met a fish one day and that fish told you it was afraid? If it told you that it told stories to its young about your kind and how they’d snatch it up and cook it over an open flame. 

Would it be your fault? Would those deaths be on your conscience?

Would you ever have the presence of mind to see a fish, alone in strange waters, and save it? Could you even do what Simon had done, take that first step?

Your heart hurt for him, alone in his crisis, with no one to talk to about it. His only options were his kind that depended on these horrible deaths to survive and you. And his prey. 

Finn pulled you aside, far from out of Simon's earshot but it seemed to settle him a little bit to at least feign privacy. 

“What do you want me to do here?” Finn hissed.

“I want to help him. He saved my life and… and even if he didn't, is this not for the best? He wants to do better, we can't just not help him.”

He nodded, hesitant but willing. “Okay, so what now.”

“I don’t know. He can eat fish, we know that for sure. Maybe other food too? Do you think he can eat human food?”

Finn pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t know. How would I know? I guess I can get him fish, we could sneak a couple out and buy some before we leave at night. Would that be enough?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea.”

He sighed. “Great."

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, I just didn’t know anyone else I could go to.”

He gave you a soft smile. “It’s the least I could do. Now, I’m going to go scrounge something up, you keep your little siren company.”

You shot him one last grateful look before settling down on the beach, water lapping at your shoes. 

Simon pulled himself out of the water a bit, trying to get closer to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. 

You took his hand from where it lay, shifting nervously over some rocks, and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

“I know.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

okay no but bbf!perv!eddie unable to stop his hand from lingering a liiiitttle too long on your skin after he slaps the tattoo. obv he cant do anything too rough (although he would give anything to just be able to dig his fingers in to the soft skin there), but that's almost WORSE because instead you're aware of every one of his fingers on your overly sensitive skin, the warmth of his palm against your stinging ass, both soothing and burning at the same time

he doesn't even realise he's doing it, and you peek over your shoulder and nearly get a jumpscare at just how intense he looks - eyes fixed on where he's touching you, the boy is practically vibrating from holding himself back

HELPPPPPP

he should probably pull away.

he knows he should. he’s well aware his touch has long out-lingered its welcome on your warm skin. but he can’t. he tells his hand to drop, to come back to him, to just fall anywhere else but your ass — all his fingers do in response are curl into the flesh, feeling the soft muscle beneath his joints and his breath catch painfully between his ribs.

all he can do is squeeze softly and stare at where his skin is meeting yours. all he can do is continue to take abnormally deep breaths, teetering on the verge of gasping as his stare starts to burn hotter than where he’d slapped your skin.

“e-eddie?”

you’re all nervous laughter and wide eyes, and it almost makes it worse when you stutter out his name. somewhere between a plea and a sigh, falling between the raveens of asking him to stop touching you and begging him to never stop.

“sorry,” he whispers, but his hand doesn’t move.

“can you…” can you move your hand? can you stop driving me insane? can you stop looking at me like some helpless prey and igniting this damned warmth in my belly that is 10 seconds from turning this entire friendship to ash? “can you do it again?”

eddie munson’s heart officially stops. the last and hardest beat of it echoes in his silent chest and he’s looking up at you wildly, stunned, quietly. for the first time since he’s met you, his tongue has become a foreign and heavy object not fit for his instruction.

and you take his silence as a no. you take his silence as you pushing too far and projecting one too many fantasie onto him for a final time. you take his lack of response as a you just fucked everything up, idiot.

“i’m- fuck, i’m sorry,” you start, “forget i ask-“

“again?”

his hand finally moves, and it’s trailing down now, fingers dancing along the back of your thigh in unsure movements. not ready to no longer feel you. not ready to leave the moment.

piqued interest, palpable curiosity, buzzing eagerness — there’s not one sliver of disgust in his tone.

it’s the only reason you’re brave enough to wear a fragile smile as you nod, cheek lowering to the pillow as you say it more surely this time, “again.”

this time, the slap is more deliberate.

and this time, it lands where you want it. between the apex of your thighs, stinging in a way far more pleasurable than before, making you cry out a bit more surely this time.

maybe it’s his sudden smirk. maybe it’s his dark eyes. or maybe it’s that goddamn tent in his pants and the wet spot he can’t hide from you.

yeah. he’ll do it again. he’ll do it as many times as you ask for it, because this time, he gets it.

you both get it.

[screamingfromuz]

ok, you little shit heads, the fact that the Palestinian live under horrible conditions is not an excuse for the mass kidnapping and targeting civilians.

Two wrongs don't make a right.

and it goes both ways, the assault that has been perpetuated against Israeli citizens does not make the suffering of Palestinian civilians justified.

so, you little shit, practice your fucking humanity and allow the horrors exist without comparing or justifying them!

[hijinxinprogress]

The JL keeps trying to stop Captain Marvel from talking to the media (and it’s not working)

The jl held a meeting about marvel’s conduct with cops bc he got a little too excited and suplexed a cop completely fucking forgetting he’s a 7ft buff ass man (the video goes viral for months) and the press is having a fucking field day with this bc ‘Captain Marvel Hates The Government!’ ‘Justice League Member, Captain Marvel, Shows His True Colors…?’ ‘Fawcett Superhero Attacks Civilian!’ ‘Captain Marvel Sends Police Officer to ICU!’ ‘Philadelphia Hero Puts Public Servant In Coma’ and shit like that is on the front page of every newspaper, magazine, and tabloid for the next eight months at least

so they’re like ‘hey you gotta say something! The people think you hate the us government esp the police!’ and he’s just sitting there confused before he says very slowly and clearly ‘But I do…I fucking despise them’

Barry and Hal are fucking losing it bc this is the guy that says ‘darn!’ in the heat of battle and has said on multiple occasions ‘Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?’ to opponents that destroy worlds for fun

like this guy still tries very hard not to make faces at the broccoli on his plate in front of the jl (and fails)

this guy hears a yj member or even the very adult titans cussing and going on the longest rant bc ‘I’ve not heard such foul language in all my years-!’ and what’s this ‘‘I’m an adult’ nonsense?? I’m older than Ravens grandfather 🤨 When you get to be my age-’

they’re all so pissed when they hear him cussing like a sailor playing video games on cyborgs phone the next day and he’s playing fucking temple run at that

[kirby-the-gorb]

[dxrkl1ght]

I haven't drawn these two in months holy fuck

Also-

WHERE DID Y'ALL COME FROM??? /pos

I just checked my tumblr blog, omg

But seriously thank you so much to all of you qwq /gen

[clownsuu]

Your possessive/obsessive Wally reminds me of the song “Smoke and Mirrors” by Jayn! I think he’d gladly kill someone to have Howdy to himself

Don’t know much obsession/possessive songs, but I do think Mob!Wally would be “the red means I love you”-

as for normal Wally? I feel he’s a lil more “Stalkers Tango” or maybe even a “The tailor shop in Enbizaka” (though it’s a different culture and timeline all together JDHHDHDDHE- vibesl still there)

also Frank screams a lil bit of “my unhealthy obsession”-

cw more obsessive behavior, syringe

Ai adventures with yours truly: day 90- We are not gunna talk about the “uno reverse” arc, or the “tea shop” arc-

[hotelstares]

[purpurps]

been obsessed w their dynamic lately. please ask me about them i beg.

i loveee using this shading style but it takes so long (this took an hour and a half,,)

[vboundwrites]

Do yall remember when that video of Trump saying you need to just grab women by the pussy was a big deal about him around the election. Yknow. Admitting he doesnt see women as people. And little child me was like Wow. That is an absolutely insane thing to say. Good thing we know that now so people wont vote for him! Do you remember that. Do you rememb