#ive been thinking a lot about this and maybe getting engaged

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

Evermore anon, I just reblogged @wavesoutbeingtossed’s brilliant posts of that exact theme! YES something about all of this and the weight of forever, the reality of a a future that forces a person to get truly philosophical about joining together two humans in such a final and intimate ceremony. That introspection can recomtextualize a lot of relationship stuff that maybe felt more symbolic or abstract until it’s Happening.

[steelycunt]

everyone get up and make some noise for sirius' vivienne westwood two cowboys with their cocks out shirt!! we're losing our minds over here for sirius' vivienne westwood two cowboys with their cocks out shirt!!

[orcelito]

Just finished rereading ITNL chapter 2 again

Yknow, it's long felt like a weaker chapter to me, especially compared to chapter 1. It's a Necessary chapter, but it's basically an entire chapter of introspection. Add in the fact that I wrote it in a single day and was half falling asleep by the end of editing it, but pressing onwards anyways bc I wanted So Badly to get it out that night...

The Legato part was the weakest for that. I remember staring at it and breaking my brain just trying to make it sound better before just giving up and posting. But when I worked on my full-fic re-edits about.. a year ago now? A year and a bit. I think it was October ish of 2023. But I focused on that part again, trying to get it up to my standards to be satisfied with it.

Coming back to it after some number of months, my brain relatively fresh, I think I actually did a pretty decent job. Despite being an introspective chapter, it really drives home how Wrecked vash is about it all. I like to say that chapter 1 is like a thesis to the fic, where you get vash's goals laid out pretty clearly (him picturing the things he wants to fix + him picturing his dream of having all the people he loves around a table with him, including Knives. It serves as motivation for him jumping back in time in the first place and it remains his driving force throughout the fic). In contrast, chapter 2 is... almost a secondary thesis. We see his doubt, his fears, his panic. We see the things that he's going to be struggling with throughout the whole fic. His wish to handle it all on his own, as well as how overwhelming it all is to him. Chapter 2 is the necessary second side to chapter 1's thesis, showing the weakness in his own strength and drive.

The cracks in his own unstoppable force.

Idk it's just interesting to me. Having been away from it long enough, I think I really do appreciate chapter 2 after all.

[jankillbride]

There is something to be said about the fact that half the time, marginalized characters end up being the "normal" ones in fanon when that is so clearly not the case.

[dashiellqvverty]

i will just never understand being Like This about a ship. girl why are you bringing mickey into this this isnt about him! he's not even here!

[dyketennant]

idk i think i should start masking again 🤠 (i mean the autism i already wear a face mask)

[mothirl]

Most tragic piece of my life is that I cant think about jason schwartzman without genuinely losing my fucking mind. He is . My new permanent hyperfixation

[criminalminds4eva]

secret polaroids - spencer reid

summary: secretly dating your coworker, when it all coomes to light due to a blurry polaroid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

“wait, whos in the picture behind your phonecase?!”

doctor spencer reid, the genius with an eidetic memory, one of the fbi’s brightest minds, your coworker. who you’ve been secretly going out with for the last couple of months

it all happend over spilled coffee, you had been rushing over to the office, holding cups of coffee for the team working on a case out of town. as a new member of the team you wanted to make a good impression, hell maybe suck up to them a little.

so when you walk in the precint and spill the coffee all over your clothes, the work of a small town cop running into you, spencer offers to drive you to the hotel, to change into clean clothes.

“that was so embarrasing god what an idiot” you said covering your flushed face as spencer drove to the hotel

“the cop ran into you, besides you were doomed from the start carrying 8 cups of coffee in the same hand, and statistically speaking, it's actually quite common to spill coffee, especially when multitasking or under stress, the brain can only process a limited amount of information at once, which leads to small errors in motor control.” spencer looked over at you and chuckled

"you know it amazes me how much information you have stored up in your brain, i mean i know about the phd´s and everything but still its so amazing" you said looking over at him as he parked in front of the hotel, you can see his cheeks start to form a little red to them and naturally yours do too

and after that, a couple of weeks later full of small glances, smiles and of derek telling him how painfully obvious it was that he likes you and liked him. he asked you out

"you know people who share common interests and engage in meaningful conversation tend to form stronger connections and, well, i really enjoy talking with you, so i was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me sometime? i promise i won’t ramble about statistics the entire time" he said as he tried to hide the blush in his face so the rest of the team wouldnt know what the both of you were talking about in your desk

"spence, id love nothing more than to hear you ramble over dinner"

one dinner became two then three, then you found yourself kissing him goodnight as he dropped at the door to your apartment

he leans in slightly, hesitating for a brief moment, as if calculating the perfect timing and then gently kisses you

"i really enjoyed tonight" you said after the kiss "would you like to come in for a drink?"

he pauses for a moment, trying to think clearly then says "id love too"

after a while you both end up getting wine drunk in your apartment floor, which leads to the decision of your bringing out your polaroid camera

"come on spence smile for the camera" you laughed trying to get him to take his hands off his face but he wouldnt so you snap the picture anyway

"alright enough, your turn" he said taking the camera from your hands and taking a couple of pictures of you.

he wobbles a little setting his wine glass down in the counter, eyes half-focused but full of affection. "you know,ive been thinking, well, not just tonight, but, like a lot. you’re amazing and smart, and funny, and so beautiful and i think your definetly out of my league and if i were to kiss you then go to hell, i would. so then i could brag to the devils i saw heaven without entering" He fumbles over his words, blinking slowly, but his sincerity is clear. "maybe you could, um, be my girlfriend? statistically, we’re, uh, compatible, and I think we could you know be really happy together what do you say?" he offers a lopsided smile, clearly a bit nervous despite the alcohol.

his rambling takes you back "did you just quote shakespeare to me?" you chuckled as you leaned in to kiss him once more

"is that a yes i take it?" he said kissing you back

"yes doctor reid, i want to be your girlfriend" his eyes wide open to your response, and for a moment hes speechless, he laughs nervously rubbing the back of his neck and grabs the camera once more

"come on we are taking our first official dating picture" he smiles shyly but brightly taking a blurry polaroid of the two of you in front of the mirror

the two of you knew it was better to keep the relationship private, spencer's face flushed when you mentioned the thought of how derek would tease him, or how he wouldnt hear the end of it from garcia being all happy for the both of you. knowing they wouldnt do it to harm either of you but since this was quite new and being coworkers, you decided to keep it private but not a secret. the team knew spencer was seeing someone, emily said his face seemed brighter and suddenly he couldnt stay overtime to finish the files jj had sneeked him in his desk. and they knew you were seeing someone too since garcia said she caught you smiling while you were texting, they hoped you guys were seeing each other but since neither of you ever mentioned the date or maybe it was the fact that you really were able to mantain a professional front while working, they hadnt been able to fully catch on that you were dating spencer

that was until you decided to put the blurry polaroid of the night he asked you to be his girlfriend behind your phone case

"wait who's in the picture behind your phone case?" penelope squealed with exciment catching the attention of the rest of the team

"is that your boyfriend y/n, do i officially have no chance with you" chuckled derek leaning against your desk as you nervously took your phone from garcia

"oh come on now she will tell us when she wants too" emily approached then took your phone from your hands "besides you cant really tell who it is in the picture" as she looked at the picture trying to figure it out despite your efforts to take the phone from her hands.

derek stood beside her also looking at the picture "hey but doesnt it kind of look like.."

"morning what are we looking at" spencer appeared at your desk, his face blushing when he saw the picture emily and derek were looking at, they looked at spencer, then looked at you burying your face in your hands

"oh my god, no way really?!?" garcia said with a bright smile "doctor love oh my god i cant belive it" she said hugging spencer

"so i guess the cat is out of the bag huh?" you said looking at spencer

"you owe me 20 bucks i told you they were dating" emily said playfully punching derek in the shoulder

"wait you guys had bets on this" spencer said laughing nervously letting go of the hug with garcia

"well pretty boy we didnt actually think you would even ask her out how long has this been going on for" said morgan looking playfully hurt "baby girl let them breathe" he said pulling garcia from you

"a couple of months" you mentioned letting go of the hug with a cheesy smile

"alright, we have a case" said rossi joining the team by your desk. the team grins weider as they notice spencer blushing as he stands next to you "were really happy, for the both of you" said derek as they started to walk away. you get up from your desk following the team and squeeze your boyfriends hand, a signal that all was well

"did you really think we wouldnt figure it out?" rossi raised his eyebrows as he looked at spencer watching walk away while the team playfully teased you "im happy for you kid" rossi patted him on the back

spencer shakes his head with a half-laugh trying to hide the blush in his face as they joined everyone.

⋆｡°✩

a/n: feedback would be super appreciated, i hoped you enjoyed reading <33

[gaystardykeco]

need to go home rn actually i cannot be on this trip anymore. like at least when i reach a breaking point at home i have an apartment alone to break down in and regulate myself until im okay enough, there's just no way to do that here at all

[cyberm4n]

HI I LOVED UR HYPERSEXUAL FEM READER HEADCANONS UR WRITING IS SO GOOD

Soo I'm here to request the vees (mainly vox but idc) x hypersexual Fem reader pleasee 😭🙏

if not that's okay and I hope you have a nice day/night!! feel free to delete this lol

-xoxo, Ari

THANK YOU <3333 i love the vees and ive been looking for an excuse to write them so this is perfect

vees with hypersexul reader

going with the same scenario as last time- you've just finished a round and (char) is spent but you're already ready to go again

《— vox —》

■ he seems like a 2 rounds kinda guy so after that second round and yall are just laying there he is SPENT

■ so when you roll over to lay on his chest like "one more time?" with a little smile on your face, as if yall did not just violently fuck it takes him a moment

■ he's spent, so spent. but he really wants to please you

■ he'd get used to it tbh. like he's mentally prepared everytime now but maybe sometimes he can do a round 3

■ he'd resort to toys i think, only the best for his girl <3

■ there's also something he loves about getting to hold you and watch you writhe in pleasure and he just gets to watch

■ he'd always take your preferences into mind with toys too. like if you want smth specific he's got it for you

■ i feel like he might prefer if yall are spent at the same time so the foreplay goes CRAZY

■ like it's not just foreplay it's actual rounds of getting you to cum before the main event yk

■ or sometimes he'll just ask if it'd be okay to be done for the night when he is

■ he doesn't mind either way but he'd definitely want to communicate about it

■ so yeah it might take him a little bit to adjust bit he'd be just fine!

《— valentino —》

■ okay let's be real this man fucks A LOT so he can probably do like. 3 or 4 lengthy rounds before he's tapped out

■ it's making me giggle about it but like okay val is a kinky guy, and like especially if the first time yall do anything it's a little bit rougher he is SHOCKED when you're down for more

■ he's prly into something like overstim where normally you kinda gotta reel from it after so when he's done and it takes you like. a minute or two to be like "do you wanna do it again?" he judt looks down at you so confused

■ he takes a moment, blinking. he'd definitely ask if you're kidding or smth and then finding out you're not he has to take a moment

■ like, he finds it fucking awesome but jesus christ he's finally met hsi match

■ he might use toys on you or go down on you, depends how he's feeling tbh

■ i think he'd lean towards going down on you, idk he just seems like he'd be a bit of a munch.

■ and if you're okay with it when yall fuck in the future he's constantly just seeing how far you can go before you're spent

■ long story short he's totally chill abt it when he gets used to it and thinks it's fucking great

《— velvette —》

■ okay im literally giggling and kicking my feet while typing this

■ she seems like a 2 or 3 round kind of gal

■ idk femxfem sex doesn't really go in rounds ime but like. yk.

■ so after she's spent, she's like so ready to cuddle up and sleep. but then you're caressing her cheek, nuzzling into her neck. "again?" you murmur and she has to take a moment

■ cause like, she's just super surprised you're still ready for another.

■ she'd ask the most questions abt it. like she'd want to just know more so she can support you better

■ she'd go down on you tho! anytime! she definitely has toys but she seems like the type to be more inclined to eat you out

■ if she gets tired of that she'd use a toy on you. but she stays engaged the whole time, super attentive.

■ she's a service switch so like getting to keep you pleased like this makes her feel good and she doesn't mind at all

■ once again, all of them would embrace it and they do not mind at all!

■ if you guys with the poly hc for the vees i think it just makes it so much better for them to know it's really hard to burn you out

■ i loved this request ty <3

taglist: @reaper-of-light-12 @mxxny-lupin @wisteria-songs @t3llas @concentratedconcrete @pansexual-opera-house @dionysusismypatrongod

taglist form

[loycos]

can you elaborate on the gfms being scams? everyone else ive seen having even the slightest amount of doubt about them has been immediately accused of personally murdering people but it all just feels so suspicious to me.

Lets start with this: anyone asking for money online you should be skeptical of. Think of how easy it wouldve been for you to pull off something like this scam. all you have to do is say youre from *enter compromised topical area here*, look for some pictures\videos on facebook\tiktok (a lot of the time they arent even from where they claim they are, a lot of footage you see from gaza was actually taken in syria years ago), make up a name and boom. you have the perfect side hustle.

and being that gofund me does not operate in israel or palestine the fundraiser would have to be conducted by a third party, the scammers themselves are not claiming to be organizations acting on behalf of gazans. they are claiming to be the palestinians themselves using false names, spamming posts that engage with 'free palestine' related tags. you already know the person you give the money to ISN'T the person who "made the post". you have to trust that third party is going to transfer the money to that person the post claims to be. and thats already shady AF. not to mention, that third party isn't even a PERSON. theyre a bot! theyre already lying on 2 fronts- pretending to be the person in that troubled area, and pretending to be a PERSON AT ALL.

there has been a post going around that showed that most of the "vetting" accounts are bots themselves, or are just tumblr users (that again, DO YOU KNOW THESE PEOPLE??) who claim that the post is totally real guys! just trust me on it bro :)

DO YOU KNOW ANY OF THESE PEOPLE THAT ARE "VETTING" ON THIS???

there ARE ways to donate to that cause, that are verified and are related to official organizations. they just don't post their links on TUMBLR.

and the fact i have to sit down and write 5 paragraphs explaining that maybe not everything u see on the interwebs is REAL while some person can set up 100 bots to spam u with the lowest effort lie ive ever seen and just get away with it is RIDICULOUS. the fact that telling people that theyre being scammed is seen as some immoral thing to do is ridiculous. U MAKE SCAMMERS RICH AT THE EXPENSE OF VULNERABLE PEOPLE. stop. being. stupid.

[you-call-it-a-dude]

Just Can't Hack It Pt.2

Pt.1

Request: so this is part two to a story. The original request was reader dealing with substance use. I had a few folks wanting another part and I was feeling inspired to add a second part so I did!

Pairings: Leighton Murray x female reader

Warnings: TW!!! I would say this one is more triggering than the first. Mentions of opioid use, accidental overdose, use of narcan/naloxone, difficult discussions around the topic of addiction, needles. This is a super heavy story. Read with caution, take a step back if it's not for you. I have many other stories you can check out if you want something more light hearted. Nobody dies, but it's a pretty realistic scenario about addiction/loving someone with addiction. Could be triggering in many ways, so please be aware.

Authors Note: here I go again adding more chapters to stories I've been saying imma leave as one shots lol. This story is super depressing, I'm so sorry. If you're into that tho, welcome lol. I apologize for my lack of posting. Ive had a lot of life changes happen recently and my mental health hasn't been the greatest (maybe writing this depressing ass chapter will help). I do want to clarify, I am not a drug user. Just a social worker that reads, does research lol. Thank you all for your patience, thank you so everyone that's read my other work while waiting for me to post again. I love you all. I love you for reading, for sharing opinions and engaging in discussions with me and I love you for existing. I hope you like this next chapter

**if you have any questions regarding Narcan/Naloxone, fentanyl test strips, or anything like that, feel free to reach out**

----

You woke up with a loud gasp, some random girl rubbing circles on your sternum. You rushed to sit forward, accidentally shoving her back.

The air was flowing back into your lungs and you felt like you couldn't get it in there quick enough. Your teeth were chattering and you were in that same fucking basement DJ died in.

You grab her wrist with shaky hands and she talked to you calmly, asking you if you were okay and all you could do was shake your head no. Your chest was heaving and it felt like you were inhaling razor blades or something.

What the fuck?

"Sit up slow." She tells you, helping you sit up and you notice her hands are also shaking. "You should probably go to the emergency room." She tells you and you're confused because you don't know why.

"Did something happen?" You ask, your throat dry. You cough to clear it and when you reach forward to grab a cup of whatever off the table, you see an oddly shaped object discarded on the table. You pick it up, your hands still shaking and you run your thumb over the pink 'Narcan' written on the label "Fuck." You whisper to yourself. "Fuck, did...?" You turn your attention to her and she kind of just shrugs.

"I'm not sure honestly. Maybe? But I didn't think it could hurt. You didn't look great, like at all."

You continue to stare down at the small nasal spray, your hands still shaking like never before. You blinked hard a few times, trying to wrap your head around everything.

"I'm so sorry." You apologized to this stranger for most likely traumatizing the fuck out of her.

"Do you have someone to call? You probably need to go to the emergency room." She ignored your apology and something about that made you feel like shit.

"Emergency room? What? That stuff worked. I'm fine." You say, tossing the bottle back onto the table.

"Yeah, but it wears off in like thirty minutes, more or less." She points out.

"Wears off?!" You ask in shock and she nods at you, looking at you like you were stupid.

"And I'm not using my other one on you so I suggest you go." She said with a slight attitude, no longer giving off that friendly vibe she had before. "And maybe get your own for next time, yeah?"

"Fine, Jesus." You say, no longer feeling as indebted to her the more bitchy she got toward you.

You take a few moments to gather yourself, still feeling not the greatest. The girl next to you that potentially saved your life was now injecting something between her toes and if that wasn't enough motivation to get the fuck up and go, you don't know what is.

You grab your things and thank her again. Unsurprisingly, she doesn't say anything back.

Your legs feel weak and shaky. Getting up the stairs and out of the house took way more effort than it should've. You hated this fucking place and you felt disgusting for even coming back.

Your intention was to take an Uber to the emergency room on campus, but when you checked your bank account you were almost certain a ride request wouldn't even go through.

You physically just felt too weak to stand so you sat on the curb, knowing you were going to have to call Leighton and just fucking hated yourself for it.

You pulled out the pills you had taken from your pocket and investigated them. You got them from Liza instead of your normal dealer. She told you they would be exactly the same pills you were used to buying from Angel, just less expensive. Your lack of funds sold you on them immediately. Except now that you actually took the time to study them, you realize they looked nothing like the other ones.

You had no idea what you took.

What you do know is you took two of them at once. It was less than what you normally would've taken. You can't even remember why you decided to only take two instead of your usual four, but clearly sober you was looking out.

Well...semi-sober you.

You called Leighton and it took three tries for her to answer. She was mad at you again because you bailed on her the other night on dinner plans that you made.

"Hello?" She finally answered. You could hear laughter in the background so you knew she was out with friends or out doing something and it made you feel even worse to ask her for help.

"Hi, Leight." You say softly, pushing your fingertips into your eyes trying to build up the courage to ask her. "Can you help me, please?"

"Help you?" She sounds concerned and you hear a door close behind her, all of the noise fading away. "What's going on?"

"I need-I need, fuck!" You try, the words feeling almost impossible to get out. "I need to go to the emergency room, I think." You finally get out, blinking hard to keep your brain working.

"Emergency room? What's going on? Where are you?"

"Please, Leighton. I'm at the blue house on the edge of campus. You know the one." You rub your palm against your forehead. "Can you please just come get me."

"Yeah. I know the one." Of course she did. Everyone knows the blue fucking house. It's literally nicknamed the druggie house on campus. There's only one reason people went there. Her voice sounded monotone and she was definitely connecting some dots. "I'm coming, I'm not far away." She hangs up on you before you can even tell her goodbye and you just feel her disappointment radiating through the phone.

It was less than ten minutes when you saw a familiar car pull up.

Leighton stepped out of the passenger side and as soon as the door closed, the window was rolling down to reveal Whitney in the drivers seat.

"Are you kidding me, Leighton." You complained as she rushed over to help you.

"Shut up." Whitney said from the driver's side, rolling her eyes at you.

"Fuck you!" You spat at her, letting Leighton help pull you to your feet.

"No, fuck you! What the hell is wrong with you?" You stayed silent because you didn't have an answer to her question. "That's what I fucking thought. Now get in the car."

Leighton sat in the back with you, letting you lay your head on her lap. She hasn't said a single word to you since she picked you up and you don't know if it was the drugs or the anxiety caused by her silence that was making your heart race the way it was.

Your body was sore and your head ached. You turned so you could bury your face in her sweater, inhaling the smell of her. She massaged your scalp, pulling you closer to her body.

Whitney dropped you both off at the front door and said to call her when you needed to be picked up. She sounded a lot nicer now, but she was also talking to Leighton.

You weren't feeling great at all and you definitely had the fear that whatever dosage that girl gave you was wearing off and you were going to die in the waiting room of this fucking hospital.

Leighton helped bring you to the front desk. You declined her offer of a wheelchair because something about that just felt degrading. Having to have her push you because of something you did to yourself?

Falling to the ground and crawling would be less embarrassing.

The woman at the desk greeted you and asked what was going on and you hesitated. Because even though Leighton probably figured shit out by now, you never said it out loud.

Saying it out loud would finally be admitting that you had a problem, which is why you've avoided it for so long.

"I-um-I-" both Leighton and the lady at the desk with the patience of a saint watch you fiddle nervously with the pen attached to a chain. "I am not feeling too great. I was given narcan maybe thirty minutes ago." You were blinking rapidly trying to get through your sentence, the fluorescent lighting and the pounding headache was making your brain short circuit.

The lady at the desk sat up quickly, asking you for your ID and insurance card, asking someone behind her to call for a nurse. You pulled your wallet from your pocket and Leighton had to help you pull the cards out because your hands were shaking and you just couldn't do it.

A male nurse appeared out of nowhere with a rolling blood pressure cuff and asked you to follow him to the triage area.

"What about my stuff?" You ask, letting this man escort you to a little area.

"I've got it, baby." Leighton said calmly, a few steps behind you, shoving your ID back into your wallet that she was still holding.

You sat down in a chair with your feet planted firmly on the floor like instructed and you felt like this firm wooden chair was consuming you.

He slipped the blood pressure cuff on your arm, the stethoscope planted firmly in the center of your arm. His eyes never left you while he asked you some questions.

"Do you know how many doses of the narcan you received?"

"Just one." You say and he nods.

"What did you take?" He asks, making eye contact with you and waiting for your response.

You swallowed and looked up at Leighton, who was waiting at you expectantly to answer.

"I don't know. It wasn't from my usual person. My friend that got it for me said it would be the same and it wasn't. I took less than what I normally would." You admit and it sounds embarrassing to even say something like that. You just hope he doesn't ask you-

"How much do you normally take? How much did you take of these?"

"Um, four to five 10mg Percocet. I only took two of these."

"Okay." He nods and the machine starts to beep. He removes the cuff from your arm and motions to someone behind you. "We are going to take you back now, okay? Your blood pressure is too low." He said while he and Leighton help you stand up and you were mortified to find them leading you to a wheelchair.

"Yeah, okay." You nod and when you sit you look back between Leighton and the nurse with a panicked expression. "Can she come back with me?"

"Of course." He takes hold of the wheelchair and takes you to a double door, pressing the button and leading you and Leighton through a maze of curtained rooms before bringing you to an open bed.

As soon as your butt hit that bed, two nurses were rushing in one was hooking you up to different machines and pulling down your shirt to stick electrodes on your chest to monitor your heart.

Before you could even process anything, your bed was being lowered and you were laying flat on your back and the second nurse was giving you a second dose of narcan up your nostrils while the first nurse finally explained to you and Leighton what the fuck was going on.

She said that narcan is usually done in two or more doses and that it often wears off before the effects of the pills do. That because you only received one dose, you were already showing the signs of the first dose wearing off and going into another potential overdose.

You didn't even have time to panic or freak out. They had the narcan up your nose and had you sitting back up like it never even happened. Leighton nodding with wide eyes from the chair next to you and trying to absorb what the nurse was saying.

You gripped the bridge of your nose and squinted your eyes while the nurse finished speaking, already starting to feel better.

"We are going to keep you here for a couple of hours just for monitoring." She rolls a little tray over to your bed that has a needle, test tubes, and a tourniquet. All the makings for getting your blood drawn. "We are required to do a toxicology screening on you, especially since you do not know what you took." She slips on a new pair of gloves. "These results will not be shared with the university." She reassured when she saw your face drop. "Arm out."

She cleaned your arm with an alcohol pad and tied the elastic tourniquet around your arm, pressing on your veins to find a vein. She inserts the needle in your arm and you watch the multiple vials fill up. She removes the tourniquet, has you hold a cotton ball where the needle went in and slaps a bandaid over it. She cleans up the area and says she'll be back shortly and walks out without saying another word.

Leighton had been silent the entire time. She was holding your things and sitting on the chair next to your bed watching the monitor with all off your vitals. Her eyes looked glassed over and you didn't know what to say or how to even begin to say it.

"Thanks for coming with me." You say pitifully and her eyes dart from the monitor to look over at you.

"I feel so stupid." She says, shaking her head. "Everything is like, making sense now, you know? The missed dates, the weird behavior, the angry outbursts." She nods her head, almost like she was agreeing with her own thoughts.

"I'm so sorry."

"And then you take shit that you don't even know what it is and- and you fucking overdose? What if you fucking died, Y/N?" She sounds so angry, but you can see she's on the verge of tears. You reach for her, touching her arm and she yanks herself away from you. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Then fucking go if you don't want to stay." You say, staring up at the ceiling, blinking back tears.

"Stop."

"I should've just let myself die on the curb of that stupid fucking house." You slammed your head against the pillow, the machines beeping like crazy for a brief moment.

"Can you just shut the fuck up with that self deprecating shit?" She spits, crossing her arms and legs.

She's very closed off and distant now. It almost felt like you could feel her distancing herself from you in real time. There's an awkward silence between the two of you and you reach for her.

"Leighton..."

"Mmmh mmmh." She shakes her head no, keeping her attention focused on her phone

"Baby." You try again and when her fingers pause over the phone screen you know you're getting somewhere. "Please, baby."

She rolls her eyes and sighs, giving you her attention.

"What."

"I'm really sorry." You say sincerely, playing with the edge of the flimsy hospital blanket.

"For...?" There was no hint of emotion to her voice. But in scenarios like this, Leighton was always good at shutting down and putting her walls up.

"For how I've been treating you. For a lot of things."

"If that's all you're going to say, that's a really shitty fucking apology."

"No! Of course that's not all. I-fuck. Okay. Just give me a second to collect my thoughts."

"Well, maybe if you weren't high on god knows what you'd be able to give me a less pathetic apology."

Maybe it was your high wearing off, maybe it was just the drugs in general, but man for the briefest moment you wanted to cuss her out.

You clench your jaw and exhale through your nose in an attempt to remain calm.

"If you let me fucking finish talking maybe you'll be more than the pathetic apology." You say through gritted teeth and she just raises her eyebrows at you expectantly. "I fucked up, okay? I know that. I didn't mean for it to get this bad." You admit and she tilts her head, her gaze visibly softening.

"What do you mean?" She scoots the hospital chair closer to your bed.

"I got the meds originally when I messed up my knee. It freaked me out about if I would get to play again or not. When I got back into it, it was great, but I fucking sucked and there was this insane amount of pressure to be as good as I was before my injury. There still is that pressure. My knee just felt tight all the time. Like it was about to snap at any moment. I did the physical therapy, the ice baths, I did everything. Well, everything but admit that maybe it's just straight up fucked." You look down and begin to pick at on your fingertips. Leighton reaches forward to stop you and instead you press your thumb against one of her manicured nails, enjoying the feeling of the pinpricking pressure against your fingertip.

"Keep going, baby." She encourages softly and you could feel yourself relax.

"I refilled my final prescription for my meds right before I started playing again. I would ration the bottle and take them after games and stuff. Then I took them during a game and realized I could play pretty damn good and my leg felt fantastic. Well, until afterwards when it felt worse than ever. Turns out if you take meds to prevent pain, it's really difficult to gauge when you're pushing yourself too far. So I would take some meds before the game, during the game, then again after the games..." Leighton opens her mouth to speak, but you continue with your thought. "...And then one or two more before bed."

"Jesus Christ, Y/N." She says, sounding both shocked and horrified. "I don't even...how long-how many? I don't know! I'm trying not to ask my question without sounding like a dick." She admits and looks to you for some guidance.

You don't know her exact question, but you can guess where she was going with it.

"It was supposed to be refill that lasted three months and finished it in like a month. Maybe a month in a half if I want to be generous. They were a low-ish doses, so I would take more."

"How many were you supposed to take a day? How many did you take?" She asked her questions in a quick succession.

"I was supposed to take one, max two, a day." She nodded and raised her eyebrows expectantly. "I was taking like four to six."

"I-what?! You know what," she takes a deep breath to calm herself down. "Let me approach this in a non-judgmental way. I just, I really want to know what happened to escalate the situation and bring us where we are now." She squeezes your hand reassuringly.

"So my prescription runs out and I find a connect when I go to one of the parties at the blue house. I got pills from him for a while, but you would not believe how expensive opioids are." You tried to joke, only when you looked up to see Leighton was not laughing, not even cracking a smile, you quickly cleared your throat and got serious. "After DJ died in the house, I starting using more and it was just getting more expe-"

"Wait what? The guy that overdosed in the house, you were his friend?"

"I, well, yes. But I was also...there. I called the ambulance when I found him." You could feel everything else coming out like word vomit. "I introduced him to Liza, who introduced him to drugs." You clenched your jaw, trying to swallow down the breakdown you've been keeping at bay for over a month now. "I killed him, Leighton. It's my fault he's dead." You look up at her tearfully and when Leighton frowns and calls you 'baby', you fucking lose it.

She stands up and pulls your face from your hands. The machines attached to you are beeping rapidly for who knows what fucking reason and it was pissing you off.

"Get these off of me." You say mid sob, attempting to pull the electrodes of your chest, yanking at the wires and your shirt blindly. "Get these fucking off!"

Leighton was fighting your arms at this point, doing her best to keep your arms still. Your brain could comprehend that you were smacking her unintentionally, hitting her arms, her hands, and her chest. You felt like your body was stuck between fight and flight right now. You felt out of control in every aspect, mentally and physically. You wanted to stop, you wanted to calm down, you just literally could not.

Within seconds two nurses came in and Leighton held your arms until one of the nurses took her place. Her absence felt more upsetting and agitating, so you attempted to reach for her. Your throat felt raw from crying and now you were screaming for Leighton, begging her to help you.

You gripped a nurses arm tightly, your face smushed against her scrubs while you watched Leighton's horrified expression as the two nurses turned you on your side. One of them pulled your pants down on one side and inject a tranquilizer into your ass cheek.

You gasped and squeezed the nurses arm, mortified about what happened and that it happened in front of Leighton. You were also both shocked and impressed at how quickly your heart rate was going down.

You also felt absolutely terrible for the tears and snot you were getting on this poor nurse's scrubs. Going back and forth between pitifully apologizing to her and to Leighton while the meds kicked in.

You could feel your arms getting heavy and the nurses began to lay you on your back again. The one you were gripping for dear life was covering you with a blanket and you can over hear the one that injected your ass trying to talk Leighton through what she just witnessed.

Something about it being normal behavior when coming off a lot of drugs so suddenly. You don't fucking know.

What you do know is Leighton looked pale and traumatized and that it was absolutely your fucking fault.

You reached for her. Desperately trying to tell her that you loved her. That you're in love with her and that you were so fucking sorry.

She looked at you confused, holding your hand and telling you she couldn't understand what you were saying. You could feel yourself getting riled up mentally, but your body felt stuck. Like gum to the bottom of a fucking shoe you were stuck and locked into this bed.

The nurses left and she pulled her chair close to your bed again, her hand never letting go of yours while she did. She sat in front of you, calling you baby, pushing hair from your face, and telling you that it was okay and to just close your eyes for a little bit.

You moaned and whined, tears sliding down your cheeks. They matched the ones streaming down Leighton's and you wanted you kiss them away. Instead she wiped your tears and begged you not to cry, her lips pressed against the side of your head.

You closed your eyes, Leighton's lips against your temple while she whispered calming things in your ear.

---

You woke up confused. You had a hospital gown on over your shirt and pants, and you were also pretty sure you were in a different room.

"Water?" You croak, your mouth dryer than nothing you have ever experienced before.

"Here." Came a voice next to you that was most definitely not Leighton.

You turn your head to the side to see Whitney holding a styrofoam cup with a straw and you push yourself to sit up straight, blinking and wiping away the dried up tears and sleep gunk from your eyes.

You hesitate at first, but you take the cup from her. You drink the cool ice water down like your life depended on it.

"Thank you." You tell her when you finished drinking, breathing heavily like a toddler after they downed some juice. You look around the room for any signs of Leighton, finding none. You try not to panic, but the machine measuring your hate rate gives you away.

"She'll be back. I sent her home a bit ago to change into different clothes and get something to eat." Whitney informs you, setting the water on the little table. She stands up and goes to the sink, wetting a small stack of those thin paper towels with warm water and wiping your face and mouth. You could feel your dried spit and snot come off with ease. You closed your eyes while she wiped your face, too tired to feel embarrassed. "Better?" She asks you, patting your face with a dry paper towel when she was done.

You nod your head yes, settling further into the bed.

"How long was I out?" You stare at the analog clock on the wall, but it doesn't help much since you didn't even know the time you came in or were knocked out at.

"Maybe seven hours? It's been a while. They said it could range from like six to twelve hours." You nod, staring at your covered feet. You can feel yourself checking out mentally, but Whitney talking again brings you back to earth. "Leighton filled me in, I hope that's okay."

"Mhmm, yeah." You shrugged and nodded, trying to hide your shame over the fact that another person knows this about you now.

"Why didn't you say anything to anyone?" She was soft with her approach, but there was a thin layer of assertiveness underneath.

"Well, Whitney, the thing about having a drug problem is you don't really fucking realize you have a drug problem until you end up in a hospital and get a needle shoved into your ass cheek. Or, maybe it's when a girl that injects meth between her toes gets pissy for using her Narcan on you. Gee, I just can't decide." You say sarcastically and Whitney's face hardens slightly.

"Okay, I get it." She says defensively, sitting back in the chair to lean away from you. You sigh and attempt to run a hand through your hair, but it's all matted and sweaty.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." You say quietly. "I thought I had a handle on it, okay? I didn't think it was a problem." You admit, nodding your head as you thought to yourself. "Clearly." You vaguely gesture to yourself laid up in a hospital bed and Whitney nods.

"Everything is starting to make sense though. Your behaviors, your angry outbursts, the way you treated Leighton."

You wince at that last one. You treated her horribly the last like eight months and you knew that.

It was such a weird feeling. To love someone so deeply and be unable to stop yourself from absolutely wrecking them and treating them like shit.

"Yeah, I've been told already things are adding up. Glad I could provide some clarity." You give her a tight lipped smile and a weak thumbs up.

"You're awake!"

You look up to see Leighton coming into the room, a little visitor badge pinned to her hoodie. You nod, looking up at her with a smile. Your eyes start to water, something about seeing her just hitting you with the overwhelming urge to cry because you were so fucking happy she came back.

You open your arms for her and she sets her purse down to rush to your side and give you a hug. You wrap your arms around her and hold her tightly, pressing your lips wherever you could.

A knock at the door caused her to pull away. She took the extra seat on the other side of your bed as the doctor came in and greeted you, washing his hands.

He did an overall exam on you. Checked your mouth, your eyes, listening to your heart and lungs. He pulled his stool up to your bed and rested a folder of paperwork by your feet.

"So, we got your blood results back. It's routine to drug test in these situations. The school will not be informed of the results." He reassured you like the nurse did previously. "Now," he opens the packet of papers to a specific page where numbers are highlighted. "You have a decent amount in your system. I'm sure that's something you're aware of." You nod and he continues. "We do not think you overdosed on the pills themselves. Not to say that means you should go out and keep slamming them back."

The three of you made a face at him, unsure if his comment was meant to lighten the mood or if he was just a dick.

"So what's the problem then?" Whitney speaks up and he clears his throat.

"Well, you have a dangerous amount of fentanyl in your system. Whatever you took was most likely laced. Had you taken the four pills you said you normally took, you would probably be dead. Here are some packets about fentanyl as well as some inpatient and outpatient treatments for opioid addiction, and some information about methadone." He sets about five pamphlets in the open space between your legs and stands up, pushing his chair back in. "The nurse is going to come in with your discharge paperwork. Schedule an appointment with your PCP. Have a good day ladies." He sanitizes his hands and leaves the room, leaving the three of you looking confused and dumbfounded.

"That was it?" Leighton asks after he leaves, clearly frustrated. She reaches forward and grabs the pamphlets off your legs and thumbs through them furiously. "You almost fucking die apparently and that's it? You go the fuck home? What the fuck."

"Leighton, please stop." You say calmly, but she was pacing the room now while she read.

"This methadone seems good. I can call my dad and get you into a good rehab. Inpatient or out." She says while reading through the pamphlets and you start feeling overwhelmed.

Of course you wanted to be better and to stop taking the pills.

But the thought of actually doing it scared the shit out of you.

"Can I please just go home first and figure this out later?" You ask, scratching your eyebrow.

"Yes," Whitney says and looks up and Leighton sternly. "Yes, you can." She says, answering for Leighton.

"I have one request." Leighton says, shoving the pamphlets into her purse before sitting at the edge of your bed. "Please stay with us for a bit. A few days, a week. However long. Just please do it, okay?"

You nodded your head. You knew you scared her, no, fucking traumatized her. She was looking at you right now like she wanted to cry. Like if you told her no she would probably burst into tears.

You couldn't tell her no. You couldn't do this to her again. You definitely couldn't do anything to risk losing her.

"Yes, I'll stay with you. Can I stop at my room at get some clothes?"

"Absolutely. Can I go in with you when you do?"

You hesitated. You thought about the state of your side of the room. You definitely weren't as clean as you used to be. You most definitely had been slacking on doing your laundry and the thought of her going in there and seeing your gross, crusty underwear made you want to flip.

You still agreed though and she kissed your cheek. She went to kiss your lips and you turned your head.

"My mouth feels disgusting. More kissing later?"

"Deal." She nods, sneaking a quick peck onto your lips anyway.

There was a knock on the door and a nurse stepped in holding some paperwork.

"Alrighty, Y/N. Let's get you outta here, hun."

---

You rushed into your dorm, quickly picking up dirty clothes from the floor and tossing them in your hamper, picking up trash and shoving it aside.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." You apologize profusely for the state of your room.

"No, don't. It's okay." Leighton says, taking in the space.

She hadn't been allowed into your room for a while. Usually when she would come over it would be spotless and smell like air fresher. It was a complete 180 from what she was used to.

You could almost see her absorbing in the gravity of your addiction. As if almost OD'ing on laced pills, blowing off her dates, and having frequent mood swings weren't enough. She was getting a first hand view of how little you had been taking care of yourself because of it.

Something about that felt more shameful than anything. You felt vulnerable and exposed. You had been caught putting on a show and now all the curtains were being pulled back to expose the complex layers of your addiction. Exposing problems that you didn't even realize were becoming problems until someone you love is watching you scramble to clean it up.

"I just need to get some clean clothes." You say, opening your drawers and finding them to be pretty bare. "Fuck." You whisper to yourself.

"Why don't you bring some dirty clothes with you and we can do laundry at my dorm. Okay, baby?"

"Um, y-yeah." You blink hard, slamming your drawer shut. You open another and are thankful to find a handful of clean underwear. You pull them out and shove them into the bag Leighton had set on your bed. "Can you get me some shirts from my closet? I'll gather my dirty clothes."

"Of course." She turns around to look through your closet.

You grabbed a garbage bag and began picking clothes off the floor, plucking clothes from your hamper and other various surfaces around the room, shoving them into the trash bag. When a bunch of change falls out of one of your pockets you sigh, going back into the bag and digging through the pockets of any pants and shorts you shoved in there to make sure those were empty before you continued.

You picked up a pair of sweatpants, digging your hand into the pocket and freezing when you felt something sharp-ish poke your fingertips.

It was almost like you could hear angels singing when you pull the item from your pocket. A small baggie with three little blue pills in it. Three pills that you most definitely recognized and knew they would be safe. You traced your thumb over them, licking your lips.

"Do you want this sweater, babe?" Leighton asks from the closet behind you and you briefly turn around to face her.

"Yes, that's perfect, baby." You tell her. You weren't even looking at the sweater.

You had look at her face. Feeling guilty about everything that went down. Feeling guilty about all the time and energy she was probably going to put in to taking care of you.

You knew the best thing to do right now would be to hand the pills over. It would be the responsible thing.

You wanted to be responsible.

You grip the small baggie in your hand tightly and scratch under your nose with the back of your hand, thinking of the way you were going to hand the baggie over.

You open your palm again to stare at the pills, your hand shaking. You look around the room one more time, turning to smile at Leighton while she had a few shirts and sweaters draped over her arm for you.

You wanted to be responsible, just maybe not today.

You clear your throat, shoving the pills into the deepest corner of your front pocket.

[hilacopter]

grr filthy jew im HATE… /JOKEJOKEJOKE I AM ALSO JEWISH THIS IS AN ACTUAL ASK)

ive been following you for a while now and ive seen a lot of your takes and generally agree with em, but just out of curiosity do you have any issue with “free palestine” or the idea of palestine being its own state, or do you just hate how some people will use palestine as an excuse to be antisemitic? /genq

I mostly hate when people use Palestine as an excuse to be antisemitc/xenophobic or paint Israel as uniquely evil for things that apply to many other countries. Idk on paper I don't have issue with "free palestine" in the context of stopping the war and establishing a 2SS, I do think Palestine should be it's own state (really I want whatever solution in which everyone's humanity and rights are respected), but idk the phrase and the movement associated with it has very much become a negative association in my mind. Like the majority of pro-palestinians I see are at best misinformed but well-meaning and at worst blatant antisemites. Plus it has ruined a lot of online spaces/content for me, I go online on fandoms and such for escapism and when something associates itself with the conflict that gets pretty much completely ruined, I can't really bring myself to engage with it with a clear mind and it's why there's really barely any fandom stuff on this blog anymore and I don't post on the sideblog much. Like I'm aware how it sounds like a selfish complaint and maybe it is but idk the fact that at this point just seeing someone with a watermelon emoji in their bio sends my mind into a spiral of "how much does this person want me dead" I think says more about a lot of the people saying "free palestine" than it does about me.

[rnn11203]

I really love Sebastian. I think hes a great character and im sad that hes often brushed off as just some emo boy. Im sure a lot of what i think can be said as headcanons but i feel like if needed i could really have a convincing argument for why i think all of this.

But anyways, Sebastian is very anti social. He says so himself that he doesnt really enjoy the company of others, but i dont really think that he views other people as bothersome or annoying or like a hassle. I think hes afraid of being vulnerable, his inferiority complex doesnt allow him to be open or honest with others because hes afraid of what they’d think about him. I think his relationship with Sam and Abigail is very surface level, i dont view their relationships as very deep or intimate. I think Sebastian could be seen as a chill but solemn guy by the rest of the community but its really cute that he’s secretly very nerdy. He likes comics, dnd, and web design.

I really love that hes a bad older brother, i too am an older brother who feels like ive disappointed my younger siblings, i was supposed to be there for them but instead i let my insecurity, my jealousy of our parents affection, and ultimately my feelings of inferiority get in the way. Is it selfish to want to be loved? I dont think so, but it is selfish to let it get in the way of loving others. I think Sebastian feels guilty over the way he behaved towards Maru, im not sure if i think they’d ever reconnect.

I headcanon their ages as 22 and 18, it must’ve been difficult for Sebastian to cope with his father’s absence and such a sudden change. I think he wouldve felt casted aside, almost like he was being replaced. I think Sebastian grew up in pelican town, that the house was built prior to his parents split, i like to think that him and maru shared a room up until he was 12? Maybe 13? And insisted to live in the basement instead. I think he wouldve been satisfied with that but slowly he realized that no one was really interested in checking on him, instead of communicating it he’d internalize it, lash out by spending even more time alone. I think both Robin and Demetrius love him, but excuse it as personality differences. However Sebastian in game seems kinda prone to emotional outbursts, instead of acknowledging something is wrong his parents just think hes just the more difficult sibling. I also think that he had loose contact with his bio dad, but the bastard suddenly stopped responding at all so he further convinces himself that he is unwanted. “Would it really matter, if I just disappeared?”

It’s really interesting that in his 2heart event he says “They’re engaging, straightforward, and unselfish. Quite the opposite of a lot of people I know." I wonder who that refers to? Is Demetrius boring? Sam a bit scrambled? Abigail selfish? (I say Abigail is the selfish one bc he expresses discontent about her coming over and disregarding his work in the same scene).

But really, i think Sebastian just wants to feel like he belongs. I think the farmer makes him feel comfortable, valued, and understood. I really like that about him.

[moonstandardtime]

i've been using tiktok a lot the past few months, since my irls use it and i'm bored. here are some things ive noticed

(disclaimer: this is influenced by the tiktok algorithm, obviously. it is also influenced by who i follow on tumblr. i personally don't post on tiktok, but aside from that i use the two platforms pretty similarly and interact with the same type of content.)

(another disclaimer: this is entirely for fun and to provide a new perspective. be nice.)

under cut because it got really long loll. enjoy

tumblr users get REALLY mean, judgy, and holier-than-thou about tiktok. tiktok users, on the rare occasions tumblr is brought up, speak pretty positively (though secretively) about it. saw a tiktok that mentioned tumblr and the top comment was about shoelaces, and the creator replied saying they don't know what that means.

tiktok users aren't stupid or lesser than you. stop "not like other girls"-ing social media.

omegaverse comes up with about the same frequency on both platforms. i do interact with tiktoks about fanfiction, so that's probably why omegaverse shows up on my fyp in the first place, but i don't interact much if at all with tiktoks about omegaverse. yet they still show up.

fanfiction culture on tiktok is a little strange. they mostly make funny videos about accidentally skimming over the mpreg tag and getting jumpscared, and other relatable jokes.

the fanart on tumblr is better because it's easier to find and interact with.

tiktok loves edits. and the edits are SO GOOD. guys oh my god

tiktok also loves tweening, 2015 animation memes style. animation memes seem to be coming back i think?

on social issues, tiktok users seem generally much more optimistic than tumblr users. possibly because of the more potent sense of community caused by the "speaking directly at the camera" format as opposed to the "writing an essay mostly anonymously and hoping people actually read it" format. especially now, i feel far more inspired to act when using tiktok, and far more like i'm bracing for my inevitable doom when using tumblr.

on that note, tiktok's algorithm actually lends quite well to communication. tiktok users want people to see and interact with their videos, so they speak in a way that encourages conversation. this makes it feel more like an open friendly discussion. tumblr, however, has no such algorithm, and interacting with posts feels much more distant, so making a post about a serious topic is more akin to shouting your frustrations into the void and hoping someone on the other side hears and agrees with you.

the jokes on tumblr are funnier. tiktok loves their mediocre skits. nobody is that blunt in normal conversation and it's making your bit feel stilted, guys.

tumblr's sense of humor isn't unique, though. the format is just a little better for it.

tiktok users don't seem to piss on the poor as much. maybe because it's embarrassing to look inept and stupid when your face is attached to what you're saying? there's also access to body language and tone, and less pressure to say exactly what you mean in the exact right way the first time you say it without angering anyone.

14 year olds still engage in purity culture regardless of platform. this is because they're 14 years old.

i'm finding a LOT of great music through tiktok. it's awesome. genuinely one of my favorite things about the app.

tiktok is judgy and weird about things like appearance. tumblr is judgy and weird about morals. i prefer tiktok on this because at least i can say "normalise fatness" without being jeered at.

tumblr users love to guilt trip.

the "unalived" problem is not as bad as you guys make it out to be. tiktok users don't actually seem to say it much and prefer other euphemisms, especially when being serious. in no particular order, i've seen "departed this mortal coil", "passed", "eliminated" (usually in reference to the uhc ceo), and, a not insignificant amount of times, just "died" with the captions reading "unalived" or "d*ed" or something of the sort. it's still a problem with younger people, but for the most part everyone seems pretty against terms like "unalived" spreading into real life.

i DO see people using "grape" a lot more than "rape". probably because the word has a lot of weight and people are afraid of the topic. there's also a bigger fear of censorship here than with death and drugs; death and drugs are just a part of life. sexual assault? not so much. everyone seems pretty against the term "grape" spreading into real life too.

sex is a weird topic regarding self-censorship. when sharing personal drama, people approach it like they're in a room with children. in all other contexts it's pretty candid. when talking about sexual assault people like to dance around it. basically all like real life conversation, just ticked up a notch or two. i can't say anything about the extensive euphemisms of booktok smut povs, because i haven't seen a single one ever.

there are SO MANY ADS on tiktok. well. not really. there's a pretty normal amount of ads and a shit ton of lives and even more sponsored posts and posts where the poster gets commissions from advertising a tiktok shop item. it feels like you're being inundated with ads.

i'm white so i'm speaking from experience here (though i'm obviously not the end-all-be-all voice on this)—accidental racism is a lot easier to spot and fix on tiktok. it's a lot easier to see if your fyp is entirely white people and sometimes a poc every once in a while, since their faces are all right there, than it is to take note of the race of each of the faceless bloggers you follow on a pretty anonymous site. it's also easier to fix; on tiktok you can just look up something like "black hairstyles", like a few posts, and now there's black people on your fyp. if you interact with their posts normally, there won't be much more issue. on tumblr you'd have to specifically seek out someone, which feels almost performative to me, and also something that, regardless of biases, takes a lot more effort.

on a similar but contrasting note, tumblr's lack of algorithm makes it a lot less easy to fall down weird rabbit holes. on tiktok, though, it is concerningly easy to be boiled like a frog down pipelines, whether they be alt-right or conspiracy theory or astrology that devolves really quickly into a new type of essentialism. i like to think i'm pretty Aware of what i interact with online and how, but people on tiktok reaallyy like astrology and i've nearly slipped quite a few times thanks to a passing interest in tarot.

tiktok users are weirdly reliant on tiktok. tumblr users are weirdly reliant on tumblr. tiktok users don't have a superiority complex about it, though. i think we should all expand our horizons.

conclusion: to me tumblr feels like a club and tiktok feels like chatting with strangers at a chill party. i don't think one is better than the other; they're pretty drastically different platforms and can't really be compared like that. i feel like they're both somewhat necessary internet ecosystems. tumblr is anonymous, non-algorithmic, and has far less built-in censorship. tiktok is closer to real life, allows you to easily find and explore new things, and brings communities together in a pretty impactful way. insert something inspirational and poignant about society and how humans interact here.

[girlnadian]

ive spent a lot of time lately thinking about different hybrid combinations for kww and bunny ken specifically has stuck in my brain so bad. so... a very fast bunadian + foxfies to get it out of my system and yes i got weird about predator-prey dynamics in here ok. obviously

758 words // divider

Ken isn't scared of him, Wifies thinks one day. It's a surprising revelation, but not as surprising as the realization Wifies had been, unconsciously, operating under the idea that Ken should be scared of him.

It's not something Wifies consciously thinks about. He's not… a fox hybrid, really—his creator was. Everything in Wifies is there because it was programmed into him, carefully cultivated so he'd react in all the right ways and think all the right things. He shouldn't, logically, have any animalistic instincts. The ears on his head are there by happenstance. His coat changing color in the winter is something done meaninglessly. In contrast, Ken—at least to Wifies—seems like everything a rabbit should be. Quick in every regard and light on his feet, Ken knows when to engage and when to back off. Wifies has always admired that about him.

And yet– and yet– Ken huffs and drapes himself into Wifies' space after a long day; his long ears flop over Wifies' thighs as Ken settles his head in Wifies' lap, soft stomach turned up as he starts to prattle on about how disappointing all the rooms he looked at today were, really, Wifies, it's like they never learn—and Wifies feels his hand twitch and his throat tighten before he gathers himself. His fingers trace idle patterns on Ken's collarbone, just underneath his throat, and Ken doesn't so much as stutter. Wifies swallows thickly.

And there's the realization: Ken isn't scared of him, but Wifies thinks he should, maybe-wants him to be.

(Wifies remembers, vividly, the first time he'd seen a fox jump a rabbit. Not long after Ken found him, Ken had insisted Wifies load up a world and explore on his own. In a snowy taiga biome, Wifies had seen a white fox lunge, jaw snapping into the rabbit's neck until it ruined the snow under them with red streaks. He wondered if he wanted anything badly enough that he would sink his teeth into it. At the time he could only think of one name. If he thought about it now—even with all his gained knowledge and experiences—he would come to the same conclusion.)

"Wifies?"

Wifies blinks. Ken frowns—he must've asked a question while Wifies was lost in thought.

"Sorry," Wifies offers. "What was that?"

Ken frowns harder. They lift their arms, thin fingers finding Wifies' jaw and squeezing. Wifies thinks about the blood, so close to the surface of Ken's wrists. He thinks about how easy it would be to turn his head and snap.

"You look like you want to eat me," Ken says. "What are you thinking?"

I was thinking about eating you. Wifies isn't going to say that.

"Nothing, sorry," is what he lands on. Unconvincingly, given the way Ken's foot thumps against the arm of the couch, so Wifies amends, "It's just been a while since I've seen you."

It's true enough that Ken's expression smooths out. Wifies removes his claws from the vicinity of Ken's heart and cards them through Ken's hair, instead.

Except Ken never stops blindsiding him. "I wouldn't mind if you ate me."

Wifies' hand falters at the same time as his breath. "Ken."

"I'm serious!" Ken sounds almost offended, the way he does when he thinks up a good plan and gets questioned on it. Wifies' protesting groan is ignored; Ken continues, "If someone is going to, I'd want it to be you. It's kind of flattering."

Ken has shifted onto their side now, fingers drumming along Wifies' hip in thought. "I don't think I'd make it easy for you, though. Everyone thinks rabbits are cute and dumb, but you don't think that, right? You think I'm cute and smart."

Wifies isn't hiding his reaction well—he knows he isn't, because Ken's head tilts and his ears flop, clearly pleased. Maybe Wifies was right. If Ken is going to say things like that, then he should be scared of Wifies.

"Not in the house," Wifies decides. There's no real point arguing if Ken wants to play out the hypothetical. Ken makes a questioning little noise. Wifies says, "I'd want it to be in the snow."

"The snow," Ken repeats. "We could do that."

"Hypothetically," Wifies says, a bit weakly. Ken laughs.

"Hypothetically."

And maybe it doesn't matter, this realization. Maybe whether or not Ken should be scared of him doesn't matter. If Wifies has really felt this way since the taiga, then nothing has changed—he's been devoted to Ken in the same way since they met. How different can trust and hunger be, anyway?