#just sick of the state of streaming in general

[drtbrennan]

#SaveMyLadyJane

In a Variety interview, the Amazon MGM Studios head made a statement surrounding their "commitment to female programming". They recently held a trailblazer event in London, which celebrated the women of Prime Video and Amazon MGM Studios.

As you've guessed, My Lady Jane, a show that has critical claim, a 95% rotten tomatoes score, an endorsement from George R.R. Martin, and was top 10 throughout the summer on the platform in multiple countries, was omitted from this event. The show has an all female EP team and it is VERY clear when watching the show. The show emphasises consent and healthy communication, and does not resort to violence nor features egregious (often hard to watch) content.

Seeing a show be excluded from such an event is so disheartening.

If My Lady Jane was airing week to week it wouldn't have even finished before it was cancelled. No time was given for it to reach everyone, especially with no marketing (fan-driven only!), and being dropped in the middle of the Euros and right before the Olympics. People have lives!!!

There is a difference between a commitment to women in programming and simply having women in your show @ Prime. Celebrate your successes, and all of your trailblazers.

Please sign the petition and keep talking about the show. Visit the website and the #SaveMyLadyJane tag everywhere for further discussions.

[icewindandboringhorror]

mentally ill people who for whatever reason end up wearing the same exact clothing so many days in a row that it begins to disintegrate and will still not stop wearing it until it’s literally just scraps of fabric VS. those weird shitty rich people who ‘’can’t be seen in the same outfit twice’’ human dichotomy 

[miley1442111]

saving me- s.reid

-------------------------------

-------------------------------

a/n: fem reader, but as always imagine what you like :)

summary: spencer has to save you before it's too late.

pairing: spencer reid x fem bau! reader

warnings: general cm topics, sexual assault, hostage situation, drugging, the team don't know about you and spencer, injuries, reader gets injured, reader is allergic to opioids, drugs, alergic reaction, knives, guns, reader begs to be killed, spencer shoots someone. (i think that's it, tell me if i missed anything :))

-------------------------------

Another migraine. Another fucking migraine. 

Your life was truly a joke. 

You sat beside Emily in the car, eyes heavy with pain as you profusely rubbed them, the sunlight from the sky beside you far too bright. 

“Y/l/n? Any ideas?” Morgan asked, kicking you softly under the table.

“The unsub will probably be extremely interested in the investigation but they probably won’t bring themselves into it. We’ll end up seeking them out,” you rattled off. 

“Are you alright?” Prentiss whispered. 

“Fine,” you lied. “Just tired eyes.” 

-------------------------------

Spencer’s eyes were on you from the second you’d spoken about your ‘tired eyes’. He was meant to be working up a geological profile, but his focus was completely on you. ‘Tired eyes’, you’d been wearing glasses or contacts all week, you’d been drinking enough liquids, you’d been eating, he assumed you’d slept, you'd been busy most of the week and sleeping at your own apartment instead of his. 

What could cause ‘tired eyes’?

“Reid!” Seaver all but shouted in his ear. 

“Y-yeah? Yes?” He answered, eyes focusing on the map again. 

“Is Y/l/n here?” Rossi asked. 

“W-what? No. I thought she went with Hotch and Prentiss,” he hesitated. 

“She told them she was with us,” Rossi sighed. “So then where is she?”

“I-I don’t know,” Spencer admitted. “I’ll call her.”

Rossi held up your cell phone and Spencer’s stomach dropped.

“Shit,” he cursed.

“Shit is right,” Rossi nodded. 

-------------------------------

It had been 24 hours, you were officially a missing person. You had no idea where you were, someone must’ve drugged you. That hadn’t been a regular migraine. Your head thumped with pain as you struggled against the duct tape around your hands and feet. 

“You’re one beautiful girl, aren’t you?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, feel the way he was watching you. 

You tried to scream but the duct tape around your mouth made it difficult.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he came closer, into the light. You could see his face. He was a white male, between the ages of 35-40, dad-build, and a sick smirk. 

You didn’t fight back, you couldn’t. You didn’t even notice the camera in the corner. You didn’t know that this was being recorded, or live-streamed directly to Penelope. Penelope, who showed it to the team. To your boyfriend. 

They were watching the worst moment of your life unfold. 

And you had no idea. 

-------------------------------

“Guys,” Penelope squeaked. “This j-just came through,” she showed them her laptop and looked away, tears clouding her vision. 

“Is that-” Derek started

“Y/n,” Aaron finished for him. 

“What about her? Did you find her?” Spencer asked, staring at the group from behind Penelope. “Is she ok?”

The team’s eyes were glued to the screen as Spencer stood there, demanding an answer. 

“Guys what?!” he shouted. “Someone answer me!”

“Come here,” Seaver sighed. Spencer stood beside her and watched in horror as the unsub hurt you. 

“We have to find her,” he stated. “Now.”

-------------------------------

“Please, please just kill me,” you begged. He’d taken the tape off a while ago. “Please kill me.”

“I’m not a necrophiliac,” he laughed in your face. “I like my girls alive.”

“Fuck you,” you sobbed. Blood, dirt, tears, and sweat coating your skin. “Fuck you!”

“I’m actively trying to fuck you,” he laughed again. You hated him. You hated this. You hated everything.  

“Just kill me,” you sobbed. “Please!”

He hit you on the head and you went out again. 

-------------------------------

“FBI!” Morgan’s voice rang out through the warehouse. Spencer was hot on his heels, walking ahead of him and ignoring proper protocol. “Reid!” He ran after him. 

“FBI! Put the knife down!” Spencer shouted at the unsub holding a knife to your throat. Something had gone wrong. He scanned the room quickly. 

“I-I didn’t mean to- I was just-” The unsub stepped away, dropping the knife. “She wasn’t meant to die.”

Die. Dead. You were dead.

Spencer fired his gun without a second thought. He ran over to you and checked your pulse, there but barely. 

“Hotch I need an ambulance!” He shouted. “Y/n, baby, I need you to wake up,” he begged. “Please, please, wake up, I need you Y/n. Please.” 

“Spencer-” Prentiss started but Spencer silenced her with his own words. 

“We’re dating. We have been for a year and a half, don’t you dare tell me to ‘step away’,” he sighed. 

The paramedics rushed in, starting you on an IV. 

“She’s allergic to opioids,” Spencer rattled off. “She can’t have any opioids.”

“Spencer,” Hotch sighed. “She’s had some already,” Hotch pointed to the vials in the corner of the room and the rusty needle beside them. 

Fuck. 

-------------------------------

“So when were you planning on telling us?” Derek sighed as they all sat in the waiting room.

“I don’t know, soon-maybe?”

“A year and a half is a long time,” Emily smiled. “Congratulations.”

Spencer nodded.

“Dr. Reid?” The nurse asked. Spencer shot up and out of his seat. 

“Yes?” 

“Ms. Y/l/n is stable but she is severely hurt. Physically and... mentally. She endured hours of sexual assault and her body and mind reflect that. I suggest someone non-threatening to see her first. Maybe a woman?”

Spencer gulped and nodded. “Emily?”

“Yeah of course,” she nodded, walking behind the nurse as he led her to your room.

-------------------------------

You wanted Spencer. You needed him.

Emily walked in and tears filled your eyes. “Where’s Spencer? Is he ok?”

“He’s fine, they just thought that you’d want someone non-threatening to come in and see you first-” Emily explained. 

“Can you go grab Spencer please?” you sniffled. She smiled and nodded, then left the room. 

-------------------------------

“Spencer?” Emily called into the hall. “She wants you.”

Spencer had never walked faster in his life. 

There you were. Bruises and scratches littering your body and face. Your beautiful face. Your beautiful smile and teary eyes.

“Come here, please,” you whispered. Spencer sat at your side, your hand in his. “Thank you.”

He chuckled sadly. “For what?”

“Saving me. All the time,” you smiled softly.

-------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[ellecdc]

Evan's little freak (affectionate)

prompt: There's something oddly comforting to me about how if I was freaking out about something and they were in their blitzed out state they'd help me calm down while sort of thinking I was a weird freak. - @moonstruckme

poly!rosekiller x fem!reader who is having some sort of mental breakdown [1k words]

CW: reader is having a quasi-panic attack, rosekiller do their best to help but they truly Don't Get It™, they think she's weird but love her anyway

Evan found himself very much unprepared and ill equipped to handle this right now. 

You’d come flying into the flat in a tizzy rambling on and on about some great injustice or upheaval in your life at a million miles an hour without hardly even sparing him or Barty a glance. 

Granted, the second blunt may have been a little much, but he generally did not know how to handle big emotions. The horrified and uncomfortable expression that Barty was wearing told Evan that he, at least, felt the same. Neither boy grew up exactly encouraged to feel their feelings out loud; pushing down all upset didn’t exactly lend itself well to empathy and compassion.

He wondered if he was simply imagining the heavy smoke in the room or if you were just oblivious to it; either way, you were clearly not on the same level as the two boys.

He’d come to the conclusion about two and a half minutes into your tangent that no one was dead or dying, and when he deduced that those were the only scenarios worth this amount of anxiety, he more or less sort of tuned you out; only registering the panicky quality of your voice.

Barty had tried calling your name a few times which only seemed to spur you on and cause Barty to look over at him in a bemused sort of concern. “What the fuck? Are you seeing this?” Barty seemed to be asking. 

I am seeing this, what the fuck, indeed.

“Poppet,” Evan tried in his most authoritative tone, hoping to hell that his words didn’t sound as slow and languid as the felt on his tongue, “you need to settle down.”

That had, apparently, been the wrong thing to say if the way you turned your body towards him with wild eyes and nearly shaking hands meant anything. 

“I can’t!” You shrieked, causing Barty to actually wince at the pitch your voice took. 

“But…why not?” Barty asked cautiously, and you burst into tears.

“Fuck me.” Evan groaned under his breath as he stamped out the end of his blunt; he was clearly done for the day. “Alright, hold on. Let me get my shit together so I can talk some sense into you. Calm down.” 

“I can’t.” You keened, Evan tsked at you. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re wild today.” He commented as he flung open the windows. Barty was already in the kitchen grabbing bottles of water and some snacks; following proper sober up protocol. 

Evan took the time to actually move the ashtray to the opposite side of the room, hoping to have as clear a head as he possibly could to deal with his wound tight little minx. Ruining his high by being all adorable and weird.  You were lucky you were so cute. 

“Treasure, you need to go sit down.” Barty murmured then as you seemed to be frozen in some sort of panicky fright in the centre of the kitchen. “Or maybe light up for a minute…” He added sarcastically under his breath. Unfortunately for Evan, you heard him.

“I can’t do that, Barty! I get paranoid!”

“As opposed to whatever you are right now?” Barty asked incredulously then, and you let out a gut wrenching sob. 

“Okay! Okay, fuckin’ hell. Come here.” Evan called as he sat back down in his chair and beckoned you forward with one impatient hand. 

“This is too much, pet.” He chided as he pulled you down onto his lap. “You’re going to make yourself sick.” 

“But-”

“Enough; your only job is to breathe right now, got it?” 

You sucked in a shuddering breath as you nodded; eyes squeezed shut, forcing a steady stream of tears down your cheeks. You looked pitiful. 

“He didn’t say to hold your breath.” Barty commented gently as he sat on an ottoman in front of Evan’s chair and tried to hand each of you a bottle of water - Evan took both. But the breath that escaped your lips was forceful and left you panting for more. “Oi! Not like that, hey. Deeper breaths, Tres.”

“Y/N. Relax, doll. Relax. You’re fine.” Evan chided; his hand resting on your lower back and his thumb drawing circles at the space between the top of your jeans and the bottom of your shirt gave way to skin.

The flat fell quiet save for the sound of your breathing - at first shuddering, then practised and intentional, and finally settling into a more natural cadence - as Evan drew lines up and down your back with one hand and drew circles with his thumb on your knee with the other, and Barty fiddled distractedly with your fingers. 

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered eventually, and both Evan and Barty let out sighs of relief. 

“That was fucking wild, Treasure. Absolutely deranged.” Barty scolded playfully, pulling your fingers to his lips for a kiss.

“Scared the shit out of me, poppet. I thought someone was dying.” 

“I didn’t mean to worry you…” you offered shyly, shoulders curling in on yourself as if you sort of wanted to disappear. Evan pulled you roughly into his chest and stamped a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m always worried about you, weird little freak.”

“I’m gonna need like, five more blunts after that. Do I have grey hairs? I feel like I have grey hair now. You’re ageing me, Treasure. You’re sending me to an early grave.” Though you clearly accepted Barty’s teasing for what it was when you returned his kiss fervently. 

“No more blunts.” Evan called as Barty moved to put on a record. “Next time she comes in like a bat out of hell, I would like to have our wits about us. Hm? Give us a fighting chance.” 

“So we’re rawdogging our way through life from now on? Alright, Ev; but if I start having meltdowns like our perfect little freak over there, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself!” 

“....Maybe one blunt a day?” Evan asked you when Barty disappeared around the corner; murmuring the question into the slightly damp hairs at your temple.

“Maybe so.” You agreed with a tired chuckle turned sigh. He couldn’t blame you; if he was tired after all of that, you must be exhausted.

[frudoo]

Literally obsessed with your Slasher 141 series, its been giving me so much brainrot

I have a few ideas;

reader feels a bit self conscious about her body and the boys make it their mission to show her how beautiful she is in their eyes (could be fluff or smut)

OR

Reader decides to be a brat over text to the boys as they were out for the day, and hides from the boys once they arrive home, resulting in them hunting and chasing her down 👀👀 ( smut and a lil fluff )

This is very self-indulgent because I've been feeling bad about my own body lately. This is for my fellow fat girls <3

Warnings: Mentions of skipping meals, food in general. Self-deprecating thoughts, somewhat poor communication. Fem!Reader is fat (in all of the slasher!141 AU). Fluff!

You’ve been off lately. During mealtime with the boys, you barely eat, just poke at the food on your plate. It isn’t like you—you’re usually the one to cook and try out all kinds of new recipes to share with your lovers, or baking sweet treats to give them after a hard day—so for you to suddenly have no interest in food is concerning. Tonight is no exception. John made your favorite, beef stew and cornbread (a southern delicacy you taught him how to make), but you just mindlessly stir the stew with your spoon, eyes focused on nothing at all.

     “How was your day, dove?” Kyle tries to break you from your trance, but you only nod.

     “Helped a chicken give birth today,” Simon stares straight at you, ignoring the incredulous looks the other three men give him.

     Still, no sort of reaction from you, other than an uninterested hum. 

     “Ah went tae the doctor earlier,” Johnny says next. “Turns oot ah’m pregnant.”

     “Nice,” you deadpan, completely oblivious to the outrageous lies these dumbasses have been telling you. 

     “Enough,” Price furrows his eyebrows, dropping his spoon with a clang. “Darlin’, you haven’t eaten in two days.”

     This time, you listen. Immediately, you rush to defend yourself, eyes narrowed at the bearded man.

     “I’ve just been fe-”

    “Don’t you give me that bullshit about bein’ sick, either. I’ve seen you sick, and it was completely different than this,” he interrupts, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Speak, baby. Tell us what’s goin’ on in that pretty head o’yours.”

     “It’s nothing,” you grumble.

     Simon sighs dramatically, slapping his palms down on the dining room table to push himself up out of his chair. Before you can protest, he picks you up and sits in your seat, then settles you in his lap. You try to wriggle free, but his hold on you is unwavering. 

     “Stop strugglin’ and tell us wha’ the fuck is wrong w’you,” the blond man grunts, strong arms wrapped around your waist so you can’t move as much. 

     “I hate my body!” You blurt, and the room falls silent. “I-I don’t know what you all see in me. I just… I look gross.”

     Tears build in your eyes and spill past your waterline, streaming down your round cheeks. All four men look at each other wordlessly, unsure of what to say. Their silence breaks your heart, and you manage to wriggle out of Simon’s lap. 

     “I’m going to bed,” you mumble, wiping your eyes with your sweatshirt and moping your way upstairs.

     Your bedroom is the furthest down the hall, the longest walk. Usually this fact doesn’t bother you, but with your state of mind the way it is right now, you can’t help but feel like it’s purposeful. You slam the door shut and lock it, purposefully avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror as you flop into bed. It creaks with your weight, and you let out another sob. 

     You end up crying yourself to sleep, clammy face stuck to your pillow. When you wake up, you find that your door is still locked and try your hardest not to burst into tears all over again. Not one of the boys came to check on you last night? It makes you feel even worse—are you that much of an eyesore that they don’t dare come see if you’re okay? The thought makes your stomach churn. A knock makes itself known on your door, pulling you from your thoughts.

     “Dove? Can you let us in?” Kyle’s soft voice sounds from the hallway. “Please?”

     “We wanna talk to you, sweet girl,” Price’s voice comes next, followed by more pleas from Johnny and Simon.

     With a shaky sigh, you oblige, unlocking the door and swinging it open. When your eyes fall on them, you bite back a gasp—they all look exhausted, puffy bags beneath their bloodshot eyes, frowns tugging their lips downward. You can’t imagine you look any better, but still, your heart aches seeing them look so down.

     “Hey, bonnie,” Johnny instantly brightens up when he sees you, and you have to fight the urge to push him off when he wraps his arms around you. 

     “Hi,” you mutter, impartial to the kiss the Scotsman plants on your temple.

     They all trail into your room nervously, and it’s just then that you notice a large jar in Simon’s arms. Your eyebrows furrow as you sit on the edge of your bed, waiting for one of them to speak up first.

     “I want to start by apologizin’, sweetheart,” John begins, sitting beside you on your bed. “We were all… well, none of us were expectin’ to hear you talk about yourself like that, and we panicked. That wasn’t fair to you.”

     You shrug, eyes focused on your lap. Price reaches out to grab your hand, gently running his thumb across your knuckles. 

     “You are absolutely stunnin’. You are the farthest thing from gross, dove,” Kyle sits on your opposite side, grabbing your unoccupied hand. 

     “Ah think ah speak fer all of us when ah say tha’ we love yer body,” Johnny hums.

     “I’m fat,” you frown, and Simon scoffs.

     “Yeah? And?” He narrows his eyes at you. “We like y’like tha’. More t’grab, more t’love.”

     “I don’t understand why,” you whisper, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously. 

     “What’s not to understand?” John squeezes your hand. “You’re soft, and warm.”

     “The fuckin’ best at cuddlin’, too,” Kyle grins.

     “Great tits,” Johnny butts in, earning himself a jab to the ribcage from Simon. “Och- wha’?! It’s true!”

     “Wha’ the wanker is tryin’ t’say is tha’ you’re perfect. For us, in general—y’complete us, love. Your body is jus’ a plus,” Simon concludes, finally stepping forward to offer you the jar.

     “What’s this?” You ask, carefully pulling your hands out of Kyle and John’s. 

     “We spent all nigh’ gatherin’ up pictures of you tha’ we love,” Kyle explains, watching excitedly as you screw the lid off. 

     Inside, the jar is filled to the brim with photos and polaroid pictures—candids of you baking in the kitchen, napping on the couch, tending to the garden or the animals, even selfies you sent to Johnny when the two of you first started talking online. Mixed in with those is printouts of text messages they’ve all sent each other, fawning over you, some of which dating back to even before you met the others. Tears stream down your face yet again, but instead of being sad, you’re overwhelmed with love and joy from these men you get to call yours.

     “I-I don’t know what to say,” you sniffle, setting down the jar to wipe your eyes.

     “Don’t say anythin’, darlin’, just let us hold you,” John murmurs, pulling you onto the bed and wrapping an arm around your waist.

     Maybe being dogpiled by your four huge husbands on an already creaky bed isn’t the best idea, but hey, all that matters is that you’re happy.

[dangerousartisanwerewolf]

To all the Americans on tumblr rn...

I am not American, nor am I old enough to vote yet as I missed being the legal voting age for my province by only about a week- curse my extremely late birthday.

(which weirdly enough has also had such an incredibly tight election that they are still counting the votes right now even though it happened 2 weeks ago because the two parties are basically tied. }

but I am also very worried for you guys way down south. Hopefully America will put the right person into power this time and everything ends up being ok for you all. Not to be too cliché but I am sending thoughts and prayers and I hope you guys all stay safe down there. I honestly can't even imagine how you guys fell- I don't even live there and I've been feeling increasingly nauseous as the hours go by and I have had to offline for the most of the day.

Remember:

To take care of yourselves. Just in general, in whatever way you see fit

You absolutely do not have to live stream the election polling/results thing on TV, doom scroll election content the whole day long, watch the news, or consume any other election related content. As horrible as it feels to say this; the results will be the same regardless of whether or not you are watching it. Sometimes it is just better for you and your mental health to just log off of sm/screens for the night

If it all does feel like its getting too much for you, please log off/take a sm/screentime break

Most importantly, if you haven't already, please vote!!!! I am not American and am barley old enough to be considered a legal voter (Missed my own countries election *tears*) so I can't really help in terms of providing resources but I am sure there are all sorts that can help you I'm sure. I know that its getting late at night; some polls have closed already but not as many as you would think. I found out that most are actually open way later than I thought. As it turns out, some are even open til 1! You learn something new every day I guess!

Just Please, Please, Please go out and cast your ballot and make your voice known, with how close this is quite literally every voice matters!!! GO VOTE!!!

Poll closing times in case you need it (I only included ones that close 8pm and upwards because it is 7:30 at the time of writing this)

8 p.m. ET

Alabama

Connecticut

Delaware

District of Columbia

Florida (Polls in Eastern time zone close at 7 p.m. ET; part of Panhandle are in Central time zone)

Illinois

Maine

Maryland

Massachusetts

Mississippi

Missouri

New Hampshire (Polling hours vary by municipality and are listed by location here)

New Jersey

Oklahoma

Pennsylvania

Rhode Island

Tennessee

8:30 p.m. ET

Arkansas

9 p.m. ET

Arizona

Colorado

Iowa

Kansas (Polling locations close at 8 p.m. ET in all except four counties in the west)

Louisiana

Michigan (Polling locations close at 8 p.m. ET in all except four counties)

Minnesota

Nebraska

New Mexico

New York

North Dakota (Polls close at 8 p.m. ET in all but eight counties)

South Dakota (Polls close at 8 p.m. ET in the east)

Texas (Polls close at 8 p.m. ET for most of the state except three counties in the west)

Wisconsin

Wyoming

10 p.m. ET

Montana

Nevada (The polling location at City Hall in West Wendover closes at 9 p.m. ET)

Utah

11 p.m. ET

California

Idaho (Polling locations in the south close at 10 p.m. ET)

Oregon (Polling locations in Malheur County close at 10 p.m. ET)

Washington

12 a.m. ET

Hawaii

1 a.m. ET

Alaska (Polling locations close at 12 a.m. with the exception of Adak)

I'm not really sure what other useful info I could put as I don't know much about America or it's electoral system but I hope that helps.

A lot of people I have seen have been posting about how they feel sick to their stomach's and that they can't get off the news and how they just feel terrible so...

Things you can do to distract yourself for the rest of the night (And possibly the next few days, idk how long it takes to count votes)

Have an early bedtime/take a late nap (Only go to bed after 9 at least though, otherwise you'll mess up your sleep schedule and make you feel worse.) Just sleep your way througb it if you cant help it.

To add on to point one I often use asmr if I can't fall asleep right away/to distract myself. My favorites are: Jaden Aliana Asmr, Oceans Asmr, Kaitlynn Reha asmr, and my absolute favorite Goodnight Moon ASMR (Check out her babble brook, 1920's, or valley girl series')

Listen to a podcast (I like Rotten Mango- informative true crime, Buzzfeed unsolved- funny true crime/ghost hunting, Look behind you- also true crime, and Chris Chan; a comprehensive history)

Never too late for some cleaning! Clean your house, bathroom, bedroom, closet, do a deep clean.

If your a student like me- do your schoolwork! I know you have some studying or homework that needs to be done! Get on it!! I use the pomodoro method if that does anything

Have a self care night- do an everything shower or fancy bath, make facemasks, mani pedi's ect.

Watch a movie or marathon t.v shows you love/that are comfort shows (Some of my comfort shows are; Bobs burgers, Gravity falls, the moomins 1990, the office, what we do in the shadows, black books, derry girls, moone boy, and all creatures great and small and M.A.S.H. Some of my comfort movies are; Little women, the cornetto trilogy, Emma, Legally blonde, Pride and Prejudice)

Never too late for some cooking! One of my favorite hobbies is cooking and baking (Mostly baking) Make some chocolate chip and snickerdoodle cookies, muffins, cupcakes or try a fun cake.

Go for a night walk! Just make sure you bring a buddy and some flashlights of you're in total darkness like I am right now. (Love me a Canadian fall! Already snow where I am so of course that means everyone now needs to immediately put up Christmas decorations lol. At least the lights are nice at night)

Spend time with loved ones. Call or text a friend, spend time with your family, roommates, whoever. If your on campus at a uni see if there's literally any activities or clubs open at this hour you can go to

Read. I know you have a tbr you keep meaning to get to

Go on a research rabbit hole about something interesting. Try to learn something new. Some topics to get you started relating to where I live cause why not; Try to learn about : The Animals of Canada, Indigenous cultures and peoples of Canada- ex: try to learn some Cree or Halqemeylem phrases, try to memorize all of our provinces and territories.

Get through any chores you still have to do

Make/do something creative: Play an instrument, record a song, make a collage, paint, draw

Play some music, listen to your favorite songs on loop (Spotify's still collecting data for wrapped!)

Download a videogame on your phone- just one to pass the time even if its total addictive trash. Some ones I like: Moomin town- Idle, relaxing, town building, slowpaced, free, Miriam webster quizitative- free, wordgames, has an end to it, Toca boca hair salon- not free, hair salon game, endless, Toca boca town- not free but there are dupes, dollhouse game, bird bnb- townbuilding, slowpaced, as well theres all sorts of cute isle cat games; I like the grocery store and cafe ones

Make sure to:

Drink water

Eat at regular intervals

take breaks from screens (It'll hurt ya eyes)

get some sleep at some point

Don't sleep all day (Try to get up at a normal time)

if you feel like you need- put screen time limits on your phone. Or as well, turn down the brightness if you feel you have to doom scroll.

That's all for now. Hope you guys are doing ok and that the results are what we are all hoping for. Just know that you are in pretty much everyone's minds and we are all thinking of you (Even if we don't live in America). Stay safe and take care of yourself and your mental health.

Love, thoughts, prayers, and support from Canada/Tumblr and have a good night.

Congrats if you managed to get through this absolute brick of text. I commend you. I'll probably check back in tomorrow.

[whencyclopedia]

Siege of Detroit

The Siege of Detroit (15-16 August 1812) was one of the first major actions of the War of 1812. After a botched invasion of Canada, a US army retreated to Fort Detroit, where it was besieged by British and Native American forces under Major General Isaac Brock and Shawnee chieftain Tecumseh. The Americans quickly capitulated, leaving Detroit in British hands.

Background: March to Detroit

By April 1812, war between the United States and the United Kingdom seemed just over the horizon. On the high seas, British warships had been boarding American merchantmen and impressing American sailors with impunity, while on the northwestern frontier, British agents were believed to be aiding two Shawnee brothers, Tecumseh and the Prophet, in their attempt to form a Native American confederacy and resist US encroachment onto their hunting grounds. In Congress, a clique of belligerent, newly-elected representatives – called 'War Hawks' – clamored for war, despite the reluctance of the general population and the underpreparedness of the military. To prepare for a conflict that seemed increasingly likely, the administration of President James Madison looked to shore up defenses in the northwest, where the US shared a border with British-controlled Canada.

As part of this plan, the Madison administration ordered a new army to be raised in the Michigan Territory and then marched to the outpost of Fort Detroit. William Hull, the 59-year-old governor of the Michigan Territory, was commissioned as a brigadier general and offered the command. Hull, a veteran of the American Revolutionary War, was reluctant to accept – he had, after all, recently suffered a stroke – but his fear of an increase in Native American attacks against Michigan settlers led him to take the command. On 25 May, Hull arrived in Dayton, Ohio, where his makeshift army was being assembled, and was dismayed at what he found. The volunteers were noisy and undisciplined, lacking adequate arms or powder. Organized into three militia regiments, the volunteers insisted on electing their own officers. As such, the men they selected as colonels – Duncan McArthur, James Findlay, and Lewis Cass – were all either politicians or aspiring politicians, men with no military experience.

After a botched army inspection in which Hull was nearly flung from his horse, the army of Ohio volunteers set out on 1 June. Proceeding at a slow pace, they reached the frontier community of Urbana ten days later, where they were joined by Lt. Colonel James Miller and a regiment of regulars, the 4th US Infantry. At Urbana, some of Hull's volunteers refused to go any further, claiming that they had not received the full pay that had been promised to them. Though they were eventually prodded along by Miller's regulars, it was not a promising start. A few days later another incident took place when one militiaman, drunk on moonshine, was startled by a noise in the dark and shot one of his fellow sentries. The man was promptly court-martialed and given the "grotesque sentence" of having his ears cropped and each cheek branded (Berton, 94). The army then marched into the Great Black Swamp, northwest of Ohio, where incessant rainfalls had overflown streams and turned the ground to mud. Meanwhile, they were, unbeknownst to them, being closely watched by Tecumseh's scouts, hiding amongst the trees.

On 26 June, Hull received a letter from the US Secretary of War dated 18 June, warning him that war was imminent and ordering him to get to Detroit "with all possible speed". On 1 July, Hull reached the mouth of the Maumee River where he hired the schooner Cuyahoga and loaded it with anything that was slowing the army down, including his personal dispatches, officers' baggage, extra uniforms, medical supplies, and around 30 sick men. The Cuyahoga then sailed into Lake Erie to transport the supplies to Detroit. The next day, Hull received a second letter from Washington, also dated 18 June, informing him that war had been declared, but it was too late to recall the schooner. As it attempted to enter the Detroit River, the Cuyahoga, carrying Hull's dispatches, was captured by a Canadian vessel. On 5 July, Hull finally reached Detroit, where he was joined by several companies of Michigan militia, bringing his total number to about 2,500 men. Hull, whose army was running dangerously low on supplies, had hoped to find food in Detroit but was disappointed.

Continue reading...

[tree-obsession]

2.2 SPOILERS!! PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK

this is a small lore discussion! mostly speculation and theories- i have not seen leaks about 2.3 plot yet, but i have seen a couple about boothill's character stories, so please keep that in mind!

trigger for mentions of suicide(aventurine) and mega corps(the ipc)

we have to talk about the ending cutscene with aventurine and boothill more! i'll start with my fav parts that no one really has brought up yet:

Aventurine intimidating Boothill after mentioning the guards are out- Boothill sounded so offput and hasty while reassuring him they were just knocked out, and we have to talk about aventurine himself just being intimidating more honestly his glare actually did kind of scare me.

Boothill pointing a gun at aventurine was. well. i'm sorry i did actually laugh at that. boothill i think you should research your targets a bit more honestly that guy is NOT afraid of guns. he fully walked into the nihility and pointed at least one gun at himself, and just got out of his own meticulously-planned suicide. threats of death won't work, sorry. also he has good reason to hate oswaldo schneider as well- threats didn't even have to be used, probably! he would kill him too, probably(revenge arc go go go!!)

the convo between aven and jade was. yeah. why he's betting his life again, i don't know (maybe sarcasm? or it was really just banter?) but it does seem like the two of them aren't super close at all, at least from what little i could gather. also if diamond hurts aventurine the entire fandom will kick his ass, emanator or no, so he better be prepared for that too lol. also, it was a pretty common theory aventurine would leave the ipc after exiting nihility, since acheron presumably broke his ties- i wonder why he went back? perhaps he had no plans as to where to go, or he has some ulterior motive?

how did he get out of nihility so unscathed? (for context, i haven't gotten aven's text messages yet, but i'm aware of some of their contents since they've been floating around w/out spoiler tags. the messages are mentioned a bit here if you wanna avoid spoilering!) i know argenti got him out, but 1) why was argenti there, or where did he even find him? and 2) that seems so random- both argenti and jade confirmed it, but plot-wise what's even the point of argenti pulling him out? also argenti said he was in a "woeful state" when he got out, and apparently the stonehearts are willing to give aven a break (which i'm assuming is major, since stonehearts are super important and have a lot of responsibility, plus he just destroyed a cornerstone) so him already being back on his feet when we see the phone call is a bit weird right away. he doesn't even sound sick, and ratio or any other doctor is nowhere in sight! (message spoilers start here) i'm aware the aventurine cornerstone was fully shattered/destroyed while protecting him from nihility- was he really in there for who-knows-how-long without any protection at all? he's apparently having nightmares and the ipc needed to call in a doctor of chaos to treat him, which is concerning considering his mental health and general will to live were extremely low even before walking into the nihility. like he genuinely has some of the worst will to live i've ever seen in a character or human being- walking through the nihility should have utterly destroyed him mentally and physically, but it didn't. 2.3 HAS to give us a whole lotta context, especially with nihility lore (my favorite aeon, i may be biased) and more about the ipc!

anyway, thank you for reading this poorly formatted, stream-of-consciousness word vomit about 2.2's aventurine lore. hope you liked it! drop ur thoughts in replies and reblogs plz they give me life(although i will be very busy next few weeks, so please don't be offended if you want a reply and don't get it, im so sorry!)

2.2 was peak- a bit slow, but the story was some of the best, if not the best stuff hoyo has given us in terms of writing quality. so great! i cried for sure, and that boss battle was just everything- especially the music. robin my lesbian queen if i didn't have to pull for firefly i would get your lightcone for sure...

see you all next time! thx for sticking around (:

[mariacallous]

An online course founded by far-right influencer Andrew Tate was breached by hackers, revealing the email addresses of roughly 325,000 users.

The self-described online university, known as The Real World, offers users “advanced training and mentoring” for around $50 per month. Formerly known as Hustler’s University, the platform focuses on topics such as health and fitness, financial investment, and e-commerce businesses.

“Money making is a skill,” the website states. “We will teach you how to master it.”

On Thursday, the hackers made their actions known by flooding the course’s primary chatroom with emojis they uploaded while Tate was streaming an episode of his show “Emergency Meeting” on Rumble.

The emojis included a transgender flag, a feminist fist, an AI-generated image of Tate draped in a rainbow flag, another where his buttocks are enlarged, and the cat character used in the “boykisser” meme.

The Daily Dot was provided with approximately 794,000 usernames for what are believed to be the site’s current and former members, as well as the contents of the platform’s 221 public and 395 private chat servers. A list of 324,382 unique email addresses that appear to belong to users who were removed for failure to pay was also handed over.

In a statement on the breach, the hackers claimed that after accessing the data they were able to leverage a vulnerability “to upload emojis, delete attachments, crash everyone’s clients, and temporarily ban people” from the platform.

The Real World claims it currently has over 113,000 active users. If accurate, the site at minimum would generate upwards of $5,650,000 every month.

A source with knowledge of the breach told the Daily Dot that “hacktivism” was cited as a motive, and that the platform’s security was described as “hilariously insecure.”

Analysis of the chat logs by the Daily Dot shows everything from inspirational quotes and progress updates to complaints over the “LGBTQ agenda.”

“Maybe it’s just the MSM, but I am starting to fear for my own safety and the future of the USA,” one user wrote following the first assassination attempt against former President Donald Trump. “Shootings every day, LGBTQ agenda, the matrix, I live in a very good area with a very good home life but I am sick of all this garbage happening here.”

Tate, a 37-year-old former reality TV star and kickboxer, is known best as a leading figure in the “manosphere.” The manosphere is described as a series of websites, blogs, and forums that primarily promote masculinity, although critics argue that a significant portion of the content is toxic in nature.

Tate previously described himself as a misogynist and is known for his disparaging views towards women. A dual U.S.-U.K. national, Tate is currently awaiting trial on human trafficking charges in Romania. In total, Tate is facing five legal investigations stemming from Romania and the U.K. Other allegations include those involving the rape and sex trafficking of minors, as well as forming an organized crime group to sexually exploit women. Tate has denied the charges.

The email addresses from the dump were provided by the hackers to HaveIBeenPwned, a service that alerts users when their credentials are leaked. Those email addresses as well as the chat data were also handed over to the journalism collective DDoSecrets, which hosts hacked and leaked data in the public interest.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Okay so maybe this it too dark, but I’m taking a chance because your inbox said “disgusting or dark themes” lmao. Imagine Dick goes through with the paralyzing of his darling, and it’s successful, but something goes wrong during one of his patrols, and he gets knocked out/kidnapped or other. Now Darling is there in the apartment all by herself, with no way to move or care for herself. I imagine she’d be incredibly sick if enough time passed, like near death if she’d been allowed to just sit there for a few days or more. What would dicks reaction be once he finally made it back to her and saw her in that state? Would it be enough for him to admit what he’s doing is wrong, or would he rationalize it away?

Love your work btw!! 💗 you keep us fed!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇…

!!! GN reader, paralyzed reader, drugging, starvation, dehydration, brief blood mention (extremely non-graphic), emaciation, near death experience, brief mention of poor hygiene, feeding tube, infantilizing.

(I know this ask uses she/her pronouns, but I thought it was better to keep this consistent with the other immobilization asks, so I used the same gender neutral reader.)

(Also, how dare you think this is too dark for this blog. I eat this shit up, MM-MM-MMMMMMMMMMMMM.)

I’ve actually wondered about this before. If you’ve seen my previous asks, then you know that yandere Dick Grayson is still all in with the hero game. This already has an impact on his ability to care for you, as he sometimes comes home later than he’d want to, so it’s only natural that something like this would happen.

I can see him having to leave for a Nightwing emergency around noon-ish. You’re left sitting upright in his bed, head lulling to one side with your hands delicately poised in your lap like a porcelain doll. Now, whether you imagine him paralyzing just your legs or your arms as well, I think it’s safe to say he’d still keep you on a drug that immobilizes as a precaution, so the only movement you can manage is your eyes. With any luck, he wraps up whatever he needs to quickly and he brings you back to the living room where you can at least watch TV. You can only sit alone with your thoughts for so long before you become just as fucking insane as your captive has…

Noon turns into evening. Evening turns into night. Your stomach bubbles uncomfortably from the lack of dinner, making it difficult to fall asleep. Still no signs of Dick when you finally manage to drift off, and when you wake up the next morning, your mouth feels like sand paper. A loud gurgle emits from your stomach, your groggy mind filled with prayers that Dick got home last night and is currently preparing your breakfast in the kitchen, but those holes slowly diminish as the hours tick by, the pain in your stomach becoming almost unbearable.

From the corner of your eye, you can see your IV drip practically empty. This confirms the unfortunate reality that Dick has yet to return; otherwise, he’d take the needle out of your arm, or at the very least, replaced the bag. You’re still unable to move with the drug still in your blood stream, but as soon as it wears off, you plan to use the limited control you have over your body to at least try and inchworm your way out of here… or even just to the kitchen.

By the time you approach the 24-hour mark of Dick’s sudden departure, you feel like you’re agonizingly rotting away. Dehydration is making your mind fuzzy, but before you’re granted the release of passing out, starvation sharply pulls your consciousness back in. This a persistent cycle that taunts you through the day, midnight providing a small reprieve as your mind finally shuts down before the torture begins again in the morning.

The drug has long left your system, allowing you to try and generate some moisture in your mouth. You viscously gnaw at the inside of your cheeks, swallowing the chunks of skin you manage to tear off and almost crying in relief when you’re blessed with the flavor of blood. It’s not much, as you doubt you can survive off this alone, but it would tide you over long enough until Dick showed up, right?

… He’s on his way home… right?

It’s been 3 whole days. You’re fighting a losing battle between a mouth filled with sand and a stomach trying to digest itself. Through your bleary vision, you can vaguely make out the outline of bones in your arms, the twist of the radius and ulna prominently bulging through your skin. Drifting between two planes of consciousness, you tried to focus on anything other than your eminent demise, like memories before this never-ending hell or the smell of your own horrendous odor.

This is it. This is how you die. If you didn’t feel like your brain was slowly turning into mud, you might’ve been more afraid. But fortunately for you, death seemed to be kind enough to numb your thoughts entirely, allowing you to pass on with serenity rather than terror. This may have been the most merciful thing the universe has been towards you in the past several months. After weeks of being a captive in your own body, you’re finally being relieved of this nightmare…

… But, of course, you should’ve known you would never be granted the privilege of pity.

Dick is greeted with the horrifying sight of you on death’s doorstep by the time he stumbles into his room. After making sure you’re still alive — and almost sobbing from relief when he feels a feint pulse — he quickly prepares an IV bag of actual sustainable fluids to replace the empty one filled with just the drug. Hopefully, it would be enough to stabilize your electrolyte levels until he can put you on a feeding tube.

Now, remember that Dick isn’t an idiot; he does his research before doing any sort of medical procedure on you, and it helps that he already has some preexisting knowledge thanks to his field of work. But, again, since he isn’t an idiot, he knows that there’s only so much he can do as one guy, and a condition like this requires a team of professionals who can monitor your vitals and nutrient levels. There’s a chance he may actually take you to Gotham, either to Leslie’s Thompkin’s clinic or even the Batcave depending on what’s closer. I think it’s possible that Leslie and/or Bruce are already aware of your paralysis, albeit not the true story behind it. Dick wouldn’t have to explain himself much other than the reason he couldn’t take care of you for the past couple of days.

However, after you’re fully stabilized, it would only be a matter of time before someone talks to Dick about what’s good for you. Having your only caretaker be a vigilante who can’t always be there for you is a huge risk to your safety. Leslie, and/or Bruce would try to convince him to move you into the manor, where Alfred could keep an eye on you, but Dick would only be enraged at the suggestion. He almost just lost you, and now they want to take you away from him?! He’s the only one who can take care of you because he knows what’s good for you!!

(The cracks in Dick’s carefully crafted façade are showing… Leslie and/or Bruce can only hope this is just him being overwhelmed from all that’s happened.)

Anyways. One way or another, you find yourself waking up to the familiar sight of Dick’s ceiling. The stinging sensation of a feeding tube irritates your nostril, and you feel like you’ve just been hit by a steamroller. Dick immediately takes to your side the moment he realizes you’re awake, desperately clutching your hand (which you can’t feel, cuz… y’know… paralysis) as he sobs into the bony crook of your neck. He’s practically in hysterics; the way he gasps for air between agonizing wails makes you distantly worry he’s gonna pass out on your weak form.

So, what would be Dick’s takeaway from this? Does he finally recognize how fucked up it is to paralyze someone so he can take care of them easier? Well… no. Not at all. In fact, as soon as he’s allowed himself to grieve over the fact you almost fucking died, he realizes that this is actually perfect for him. You’re in a critical state and he needs to nurse you back to health? He absolutely adores coddling you to the extreme, so this is like living the dream. Really, the only thing he regrets is not putting you on a more sustainable drug before he left (though it’s not like he could foresee his initial Nightwing emergency going south like that. But it’s okay, cuz now he knows to take precautions!!).

Your recovery would take months, but things return to normal very quickly… much to your anguish.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 14 (A Terrible Loss)

Distracted by work and trips to the city to see Malcolm, Heather hadn’t had time to properly explore Brindleton Bay since her arrival. But rather than stress a possible move to San Myshuno - which she wouldn't have to make if Malcolm never asked her to marry him - she decided to explore her new home with her future sister-in-law, Cassandra Goth.

Who better to show her around Brindleton Bay than someone born and raised among the windy coastal beaches dotted with fishing boats?

Unfortunately, when she finally had a Saturday off, it was raining, so their plans to explore the beach fell through. Worse, when Heather, Tut and Boomer arrived for a backup feline playdate at the Goth mansion, she found their elder Siamese, Socks, in a state.

"She just started throwing up everywhere, but she ate this morning without any trouble," said Cass, cradling her pet with fear in her eyes. "I've never seen any of our cats this sick."

"We'll take her to the clinic. I'll work all night to figure out what's wrong if I have to," Heather vowed, trying to soothe her own fears as well as Cassandra's. "Socks is strong. She'll get through this."

Heather tried everything she could to save her, running test after test, taking x-rays, and running through half a tube of belly rub simulation gel. "I've never seen such a severe case of swamp mouth."

"Can you do anything?" Cassandra held her breath waiting for an answer. Heather's heart broke.

"I can make sure she's comfortable. But the infection's spread too deep."

Cassandra sobbed. "How did this happen? She was fine this morning!"

Heather tried to comfort her, but she was wracked with guilt over Socks' death. She'd been fortunate thus far not to lose any of her patients, but the first was Cass' family pet! She knew death could be part of the job, but that didn't make it easier.

"Can you bring me the rest of her food? Don't let your other cats have any of it. Here." She grabbed a few jars from one of her supply cupboards. "I can make fresher jars, but these should be good meal replacements for them for now."

"Is this homemade pet food?" Tiny kibbles chimed against the glass as Cassandra examined the gift.

"It comes in handy with hungry pets sometimes, but I'm not allowed to sell it."

Heather stayed up late for weeks running tests to try to figure out what happened. She suspected Socks’ diet – a steady stream of Landgraab Industries Pet Food for as many years as she’d been a patient at Brindleton Pawspital – but only after she compared other charts was she certain. Landgraab pet food wasn't meat and it wasn't organic. Heather had no idea what it was, but it had FDA approval! Knowing Landgraab Corp., they probably paid someone off to get it.

Heather was beside herself. Whatever it was, or whatever it wasn't, she was disgusted with herself and called her father in a panic. "I signed a contract to own a hospital that isn’t helping pets as well as it should. If I keep Landgraab pet food in the supply closet, I'm helping them. You always knew the food was bad for animals, but there's a contract and I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" she cried.

"It's alright, Buttercup, just slow down."

"I can't sell food that makes pets sick, Dad."

"What about your mother's cookbook? It has all those recipes for homestyle pet treats."

"I wish I had time to make enough to replace what I'd need at the clinic, but I work twelve hour days! And the contract says I have to use Landgraab supplies."

"They can't force you to buy their products."

"What do you mean? The contract says-"

Neal laughed. "I grew beet meat on a garden wall and now Nesbeets ready-made sandwiches are available in practically every cafe, restaurant, and vending machine in Simlandia. I never told you kids how hard it was to get Nesbeets on the shelves in the early days because of exclusivity agreements and other legal clauses. Real boring stuff! The point is, not every great lawyer works for the Landgraabs, and my distributors know a thing or two about that. Let me make some calls, but when I find you the right, eco-conscious supplier, you might have to pay a little more."

"I don't care. It'll be worth it. Thank you thank you thank you, Dad! I love you!"

Heather hung up with her father feeling grateful for her family, and it wasn't long before she was able to offer homestyle pet food and treats that gave partial proceeds to the local shelter. Neal's latest idea took off, promoted as the next great addition to the world of pre-packaged foods from the man who invented Nesbeets! He even branded the puck-shaped treats 'Buttercups.'

Owners were grateful because their animals loved it, and soon her order for Landgraab pet foods had dwindled to the point Petcare executives noticed.

They sent a strongly worded email she pretended she never received.

How would Heather's rebellion go over with the Landgraabs? ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: You may be thinking 'Cats don't die at the vet in The Sims' and yes, that's true, unless a glitch causes the exam never to end and the cat never to heal (I've never played the vet owner career before and I did something, not sure what, that broke the examination cycle when the clinic wasn't open, and my only options were close without saving and try again, or be a vengeful Watcher and turn it into plot. And I hate closing without saving and replaying time. 😬

[sp00kymulderr]

our house of flames

Part 1 - Spark

series masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: M, heavy details of grief, blood, implied canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts, injury, trauma, reader is dealing with death of a loved one, general sadness, kissing. Please let me know if I missed any.

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Years after the outbreak the unthinkable happens and you lose the person who means the most to you. You’ve chosen to give up when Joel Miller finds you and decides to take you in, but is he the best person to help you deal with your grief?

A/N: Whilst this part is M rated, future parts will be very much 18+. This was meant to be v simple pwp but became a different beast entirely oops. If you like it please please comment and/or reblog. To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates​ or see taglist details on my masterlist

When Joel had found you, you’d thought it was the end.

In some ways you’d hoped it was.

In the years since the outbreak, everything had changed – you’d learnt to fight, to fend for yourself, to trust few and to hold on to those you cared for with everything you had. That was how it had to be now, so different from before. Those people – the ones you loved – had dwindled dramatically over time. Most were lost to the cordyceps, some to hunters or raiders until eventually it was just you and her, your closest friend through life and hell.

You’d spent over a year just the two of you, drifting from town to town looking for somewhere safe, secure, somewhere to rest your heads for more than a few hours. You’d heard rumours of strongholds you desperately wanted to find, but with the infected population increasing by terrifying numbers it was becoming more and more impossible to imagine a haven in this new world.

So while you’d searched and tried not to yearn for what you might find you’d both learnt instead to survive as ghosts, to keep quiet and out of sight – alive and uninfected.

Until you’d made a mistake.

One that cost a life.

Joel had found you blood-stained and afraid, stuck still in a state of shock. You were shivering violently, huddled down next to a body that you couldn’t seem to look at. Blood on your hands, blood on your clothes, it was starting to pool in the snow. The sticky red of it was making you sick. A gun lay thrown to your other side, muzzle partially buried in the snow.

Your breath ragged, puffing out in white clouds as you heaved with panic, and he had looked at you with cold eyes as you shuddered on the icy ground. You were more than sure that he was another threat – another monster – but you were too adrift to run for your life, too lost now to find a way out of this.

You had sobbed, pathetic and broken, and waited for the man to kill you. You thought perhaps it was all you deserved, to die here beside the last person you had cared about. And the man did aim his pistol at you, his first instinct taking over.

Holding up your hands in defeat, those red stained traitorous hands of yours, you watched almost lifeless as he rifled through your pack. You sniffled, the flow of tears streaming steady down your cheeks.

So this was what surviving had gotten you.

“Please” you had sobbed and wiped your cheeks, smearing them red-tinged. He had placed the pack back down having not taken anything from it. You had nothing he needed you guessed. You had nothing, after all.

“Please” again, and truthfully you didn’t know if you were asking him to end your life or spare it.

He’d looked at you then, properly, and you felt you saw pity in the eyes of this stranger. He remained pointing the pistol at you but something had made him hesitate. For a few moments there was only the puff of your still panicked breath, his much calmer and floating above you in disappearing wisps.

“You bit?” he asked, and was clearly relieved when you shook your head. “She was bit, right?” he waved the gun in the direction of the body you dare not look towards.

“She was...she...we were so careful. We were – She just couldn’t outrun them…” you couldn’t say it, not fully, but the missing parts of your words provided the answer for him.

You’d looked up at him then, with wide eyed fear from the horrors you’d seen and watched the man take a long breath, thinking something over.

“I’m sorry” he murmured, hesitant. You braced for the kill shot then, but all that had come was a sigh as he lowered the gun.

He extended a hand, it had shocked you – scared you more than the thought of dying. You flinched, and he just stayed like that, offering his help.

“It’s alright” he muttered “I ain’t gonna hurt you. Looks like you’ve already been through hell” he looked to the scene before him. The blood and the tears and the discarded gun somewhere to your left.

You had finally, nervously, taken his hand and let him pull you up from the ground. You didn’t look behind you, but you saw him eye you and then reach down for your pack and the gun that you never wanted to have to touch again.

“You got anyone else...anyone waiting on you?” he asked, and you saw a sympathy in his eyes when you shook your head timidly.

“Why...why are you helping me?” you questioned cautiously, voice barely there. You had screamed it away.

He didn’t answer, just handed you your pack – but not the gun – and told you “I got a place to sleep, sheltered, gonna be there a few days hopefully before I move on again. You can come with me, while you get your bearings”

“I don’t understand” you stood away from him, wary and confused and he just waited, too calm.

“You’ve been through something. Way I see it, leaving you on your own out here to die – that would be cruel...there’s infected out here, and worse. I’m not blind, you’ve given up fighting – you’re scared and alone. I’ve got enough humanity left in me to know you need help” he had shrugged and started walking.

And maybe it had been foolish, but you followed him. Because what he’d said, how he’d said it, it sparked something in you.

Hope.

If only you’d known how dangerous hope could be.

***

Three weeks later, and you were starting to feel like a person again. Not the person you had once been, no, they were never coming back to you. But more than a husk, with perhaps at least part of your soul intact.

Beyond all odds, the man had spared you. He had helped you, taken you back to shelter and patched you up. Sure, he’d checked you for bites �� never quite believing your words for himself – and it had been humiliating to let him inspect you like that but you couldn’t blame him for not trusting you.

Trust was earned, and not often in a world like this one.

“You’re good” he had said, passing your clothes back, and though you hadn’t quite found relief in that you were at least grateful he wouldn’t put you down the way you had had to…

He hadn’t spoken much, in those few weeks between finding you and now. His name was Joel, he had told you between bites of some miserable canned beans, but that was about all you got from him in the first week. Slowly, ever so slowly you had earned tiny snippets of information from him, but it all felt trivial in the shadow of whatever agony he must’ve lived through to be here now. Everyone had gone through something, and he wore his woe like a heavy cloak that he had no choice but to bear.

You learned that Joel was gruff, controlled, clearly capable of enduring on his own, but there was something else to him too – a sadness you knew better than to talk about. A part of him was missing, you could feel it in everything he did and maybe it should’ve scared you but he had saved you, and you would always see that in him first and foremost.

He was ruthless, too. And you realised very soon that you had been lucky in your fate with him. You  learnt quickly of his ferociousness, his base violence, when some raiders had caught up with you and his eyes had gone black – soul leaving him as he did what he had to to survive. You tried not to think about it, about how he surrendered his humanity in those moments of blood and pain and horror and did what needed to be done. He was like another person entirely, you wondered if he even realised it sometimes.

It is all about surviving, though. You see that now, being alone in a way you haven’t been in the last 10 years. The goal now is only to survive, and you could do that with violence like Joels or you could die...or worse. You know in reality he isn’t good, but really what is good now? Does it even really exist? In the time before the outbreak it had all seemed so clear cut but now the morality of good and evil was so blurred and frayed at the edges, the word had so little true meaning to those still breathing. You know he would’ve killed you if he had to, if you had given him a reason, but still it is difficult to be truly scared of his brutality when you know he is the lesser of many, many worse things out there. So maybe you could not call him good, but his heart persists in spite of his wrongs and that matters the most.

Besides, the moments he didn’t have to be steely and cold he happened to be quite nice. Certainly not sunshine and rainbows, but he looked out for you while you travelled together. And even though he was no conversationalist he never once let you feel left completely alone. In his own way, he was kind and caring and full of compassion that he perhaps hid from himself. Every day since meeting you had felt this string of connection forming between the two of you, barely seen thing string but it was there. It felt like you shared something deep, something between your souls that you didn’t expect to find anywhere other than with her. It terrified you.

Every few days, you moved to a new location. He had told you he was travelling north, and you’d said you’d leave him soon but you both knew you weren’t going anywhere, just sticking along for the journey. You had no where else to be after all.

Tonight, you’re staying in another abandoned house in what was once a small, active town. It’s empty, everything is empty, and even though you know no one is coming back to the house it feels like a violation every time you step inside what had once been a home. It makes you shiver, walking through the dark rooms with the dust lining everything, rising and settling as you move through. Once upon a time, not really that long ago at all, the place might have been full of light and dreams and life. And now it is a roof over a head for you and Joel, a place for you to lay your head and pray not to dream or die.

“Hey” you hear him call in that low voice from another room “Boots. Should fit you”

“Score” you make your way to the bedroom, where he’s holding up an old pair of walking boots that, yes, look about your size. They’re tatty but wearable, and your current shoes are in dire need of replacement.

You sit on the bed behind you, sinking on to the soft mattress, and pull off your shoes to try on the others. It feels wrong, but you have to remind yourself no one is ever coming back to claim them. Joel doesn’t seem to have those thoughts, and you envy him for it.

He smiles as you tug on the boots, just a small smile but it sends something jolting through you.

You look at him for a moment, as he busies himself with checking through the rest of the room for any supplies you can use. Joel is handsome, there is absolutely no denying that, even with the dirt and the sweat and the scruff. He looks tired, desperately so, but even so his dark brown eyes have this shine to them, and his smile though rare is a gorgeous thing. You’ve thought about him, of course you have. When you had met you hadn’t noticed it but the more time you spend with him the more you see him. The more you feel for him. He is beautiful.

You feel a pang, and it’s horribly like guilt, as you think of him like that. Is it wrong, so soon after losing someone, to want someone else in your life? It feels wrong, like sin even though doesn’t make sense. You’re relationship with her had been full of love but it had only been platonic, yet it still feels like...like you’re being selfish, letting her go. It feels like a great betrayal and it stabs you through the heart.

In a moment the grief spills like a mighty flood threatening to consume everything in it’s wake. You stop still in tying the laces of the boots as you feel your breathing quicken in panic. There’s a sting in your eyes but know you wouldn’t cry yet. You can’t breathe, but you won’t cry. Can’t cry. You call the tears back in. Those tears are saved for when you are alone; in the moments when you wait for him to come back from a hunt or a scout, when you sit on the forest floor or on a sad, dusty, long-forgotten chair on your own and panic at the feeling of being by yourself. That is the time for misery, not here. Not now.

“You ok?” he turns to you concerned, noticing the change in your demeanour.

You clear your throat and nod, comforted by the way the tone of his deep, sad, voice speak volumes more than his words do. He worries about you, he does. He cares about you, even though he probably doesn’t mean to. It helps, calms you a little.

You’ve both kept your distance for all these weeks, only close when you need to be, but when you don’t answer he comes to sit right besides you. He’s warm. His body is warm. You’ve felt it at night when you share a bed or when he was showing you how to shoot better, but right now he’s just sitting there besides you his shoulder gently bumping yours and you feel the sweep of comforting warmth.

“I’m fine. I just…They’re good boots”

He lets out a grunt of a laugh.

“They must be damn good” he smiles barely but doesn’t press for a real answer.

The grief is a monster that holds you by the throat, and you are relieved he doesn’t make you give name to it.

Joel knows all about not talking about your pain, after all. You feel it every day and every time things get even a little more personal between the two of you as you slowly slowly inch closer together. He’s holding back on something and trying so hard to pretend it’s not there but what he doesn’t seem to realise is it’s always there. In those quiet moment where you’re just sitting, just trying to get through another harsh night.

***

Tonight you agree to share the large bed with the soft mattress in this house that will never again be anyone's home. He never insisted but you agree it’s safer if you’re both trying to sleep that you’re not separated. Usually you’d split a watch shift and sleep alone but you’ve been walking for miles, you’re sore and tired and miserable in your own little ways.

So you share the bed and to being with you keep your ever-dwindling distance as always but tonight...tonight is different. You drift a little closer than before, unintentional but god you just need the comfort of human touch or something right now. Your body begs for it ever since that crashing wave of heartache engulfed you earlier.

You’re filled with the need to erase that feeling. To replace it with something better, something warmer and kinder. It scares you how much you crave to feel his hands on you, how much you want him to wrap his arms around you. It scares you because you’re not even sure if you can face it – intimacy – or the rejection of it.

Still you move closer and you feel him move on his side of the bed...closer or further away? You can’t bring yourself to look.

“Joel?” you whisper after a breath, hoping he’s sleeping.

He kind of grunts a response and you don’t know what to say next so you don’t say anything. The air moves around you in gripping quiet.

“You alright?” he asks in to the silence, the enveloping dark.

He waits for your answer and you lose yourself in his steadiness. How does he do it? How does he manage to appear so composed even when you both know he isn’t? You want to cry or scream or rip your flesh from your bones. Something to stop all this noise in your head.

Silence still and he doesn’t move, doesn’t ask again. You think he’s probably settling back in to sleep and maybe you should just leave him be.

“Does it ever hurt less?” you whisper and your voice shakes. You regret it immediately. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to talk about things like that, he’s never even brought up the past.

He sucks in a breath, quiet, but doesn’t answer and you curl in on yourself. The desire to run floods you, the desire to be anything but you; to be strong and unaffected and more like him. You feel the prickle of tears in your eyes and it makes you hate yourself, hate your grief and your guilt and her for making you hurt like this.

And then you hate yourself even more.

“I’m sorry, darlin’….Wish I could lie to you but..” he sighs and you feel the shift of the mattress as he turns towards you. After a long pause and what you think is a hitched breath you feel the press of his large hand at your waist. “It’ll hurt forever”.

“How…” you force back the tears “How do you live with it?”

“You keep trying” his voice is thick with compassion and something else, “You find a way”.

You just nod and let him pull you closer, his body curving around yours, the weight of his arm over you making you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. You wipe away those treacherous tears and focus on just the feeling of him. It’s more than you had imagined. More than you’d dared to think about. His breath is warm on the back of your neck and it floods every part of you.

He lets out a sigh that sounds like relief. You feel something in him start to relax, just a little.

You want the pain to go away so desperately, at least for this moment. And so does he.

And so, he turns your head gently, thumb under your chin. You feel it leaving you already, some of the anger and pain. His face is above yours for maybe three seconds that feel like an eternity and then he’s kissing you. It’s soft, his lips are chapped but it doesn’t bother you. The kiss envelops you and the air around the two of you shifts.

Everything is pulled away.

Even if just for the briefest moment, he helps you let it go.

[whumpbug]

whumperless whump event day 22: better out than in @whumperless-whump-event

vomiting / “i got your hair, it's fine.” (that dialogue is shown thru action i still wanted to include it)

see this post for character information!

caretaker: Archie

whumpee: Simon

cw: vomit (not super graphic but. yknow. its there. its the prompt.) AND slightly graphic descriptions of blood and broken bones (unrelated to the vomit)

for those who want to skip the actual vomiting, it starts at the line "Simon are you sure you're--" and ends at the line "I know, I know.."

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Simon was trying, in vain, to nap when a knock on his window startled him awake.

There was really only one person that was so polite as to knock before breaking in. He sprang to his feet.

Well, not really sprang. More like.. slowly dragged himself to his feet so as to not jostle himself more than he needed to. His stomach felt… off.

Well, he sort of felt off in general.

He wasn’t sick though. Nope. No way. Archie was the one with the constitution of an old man, not Simon. Simon got his flu shot every year and drank tons of water and washed his hands nearly every hour. There was no chance he was sick. Not in a million years.

So he dragged his perfectly healthy body out of bed and shuffled to the window to see what mess he was going to have to clean up this time.

Archie waved to Simon through the window as he approached, so at least it didn’t seem to be a life-threatening injury right off the bat. Still, there was blood staining his teeth, slowly streaming from his nose and down to his chin. 

The sight of it made Simon’s stomach lurch. It wasn’t the sight that bothered him, he was used to that, but the thought of having to taste all that blood. He wondered if Archie’s tastebuds were also enhanced like the rest of his senses. He hoped not.

He hooked his fingers under the window and pulled it up, allowing Archie to stumble in. 

“Long time no see. Can't tell if thats a good or bad thing,” Simon quipped, catching Archie by the arm before he could faceplant on the cool tile.

“Awww somebody missed me~” Archie chirped, voice audibly a bit more nasal than usual. He straightened and allowed himself to be led to sit at the kitchen table.

Simon playfully rolled his eyes, though the action made him decidedly more nauseous and he stopped. He swallowed. 

“Yeah, sure. Just tell me what I’m working with here,” He motioned in Archie's general direction.

“Nothing too bad! I think I broke my nose, maybe a rib, and definitely sprained my ankle,” He listed. They had done this dance countless of times, and considering the states Archie had come to Simon in in the past, this really wasn’t too bad.

Simon pulled on his gloves. “Alright, let me take a look.”

Simon gently tilted Archie's head back. A lot of blood had already dried on his lips and chin, but there was still a decently steady stream of fresh blood dripping out. Again, the sight of it wasn’t what bothered Simon, but this time it was the smell.

It was metallic and overpowering and it was right in front of Simon's face. It was far from the worst thing he had smelled by a long shot, but it was enough to bring his queasiness up a few notches. He turned away, giving himself a few seconds to regain his composure.

Still, he knew he wasn’t sick. He must have eaten something weird or maybe he hadn't eaten enough. Sure, he had been feeling sort of run down and chilled all day, but that could be chalked up to stress, not illness. That much he was sure of.

He steeled himself and applied gentle pressure to the bleeding appendage. 

“It’s not broken,” He said, handing Archie some napkins to plug the flow of blood. He got up to change his gloves, silently grateful to be away from the coppery smell for a moment. “You just gave yourself a nasty nosebleed.”

“Oh sweet! I was honestly a little scared that I had--” Archie paused. “Simon? You okay? You look a little.. pale.”

“I’m fine. Just tired. Let’s check your ribs.” Simon said quickly, swallowing convulsively and standing. “Lay on the table.”

Archie lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. He winced as he got up and sat on the wooden table, hissing as he lowered himself down.

Simon began palpating his side, applying gentle pressure. Simon’s fingers caught the lower left rib and it shifted with a grotesque scraping sensation, earning a yelp from Archie. Simon blanched.

“Yeah, definitely seems uh..” He swallowed again. “It’s a light fracture. Just ice it.”

Simon shut his eyes. Again, usually none of this stuff bothered him, but the feeling of Archie’s bones grinding against eachother beneath his finger was a sensation he felt in his teeth, and, consequently, his stomach. 

Evidently, his body had enough.

“Simon, are you sure you're--”

Archie was cut off by Simon suddenly sitting as straight as a rod, lips clamped together, sweat beading on his brow. There was a beat of silence in which Simon ran through every possible way to avoid what he knew was about to happen, but it was too late. Archie opened his mouth to speak again, but didn't get a chance before Simon bolted to the bathroom.

He unceremoniously crashed to his knees in front of the toilet just as he began to retch.

“Shit!” Archie staggered up from the table, limping as fast as he could to the hallway. Stupid ankle!

As he rounded the corner, he let out a sympathetic gasp at what he saw. Courtesy of Simon forgetting to close the door behind him, he was able to see him clinging weakly to the rim of the toilet, panting in between bouts of nausea. Sweat was dripping down his brow, and Archie could finally see how green around the gills he really was.

“Oh Simon..” He cooed, hobbling over to kneel next to him. He placed a hand between Simon’s shoulder blades and rubbed gently up and down. “ It’s okay.. Just get it out..”

Simon’s body tensed as he shoved his head back down into the bowl and gagged unproductively. He was silently grateful for Archie rubbing his back, as it gave him a sensation to focus on other than his stomach trying to turn itself inside out. He let out a low whine.

“I know, I know..” Archie used his free hand to simultaneously push Simon’s hair back from his forehead and check for a fever. He frowned. “You’re burning. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Simon screwed his eyes shut as he finally pulled away from the toilet bowl, collapsing into the wall. “Not.. sick..”

“... Come again?”

“Don’t.. don’t need.. m'not sick..” He breathed, but it came out as more of a whine, and Archie couldn’t help but snort.

“I need get that on video. I’ll play it anytime you tell me I’m being ridiculous,” He laughed, gently running a hand through Simon’s sweaty locks. He ignored Simon's absurd denial. “Let’s get you in bed.. you think you’re done?” 

Simon kept his eyes shut as he nodded, knowing that if he looked at his mess, it'd just start up again. Archie leaned over to flush the toilet for him and took a bit of toilet paper to clean his chin. The act was so small and so tender that Simon found his eyes welling up with tears. He blamed the fever.

It took some maneuvering, considering both of their states, but Archie eventually got Simon into bed, and tucked in, once he saw begin to shiver. He placed a small trashcan beside the bed, just in case.

“You should.. should get in bed..” Simon murmured weakly. “Rest your ankle..”

Archie giggled. “You’re just saying that because you want a warm body to latch onto.”

Simon hummed noncommittally.

Still, Archie wasted no time changing out of his Vigil jumpsuit and into some of Simon’s clothes before cleaning his face of blood and slipping beneath the covers, next to Simon.

As predicted, Simon sidled right up to Archie and buried his face in his neck, inhaling the familar scent.

Archie smiled. Though it rarely happened, without fail, Simon became a complete cuddlebug when he was sick, and Archie was absolutely soaking it in.

He drew Simon close to his chest, and ran a hand through his hair. He used his other hand to rub wide circles across Simon’s warm back, and it wasn’t long before Simon visibly relaxed under his touch. 

Simon wasn’t used to being in this role, but was hardly complaining. It felt kind of nice to be doted on. He lazily threw an arm across Archie’s chest and pressed himself closer.

"Maybe.. I'm a little sick.." He slurred, already halfway to dream land.

Archie's chest vibrated with a soft laugh as he carded a hand through the dark locks rhythmically.

The two drifted off, tangled in eachothers arms, with the silent promise to deal with their respective ailments in the morning. For now, they slept.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[fernlessbastard]

im the psychotic wilbur anon (forgot to note im paranoid schitzo and i see myself so much in him ANYWAYS) BUT CWILBUR BPD FOR THE WORLD. (< ALSO BPD.) hottest take is that him and quackity are bpd4bpd and a huge part of their relationship is a learning curve figuring out how to navigate communication with each other and each others splits and such. i also think that wilbur tends to black split on HIMSELF more often, and quackity tends to black split on OTHERS more often. i also think that wilbur white splitting on quackity would be a whole nother thing they have to deal with, with wilbur suddenly being like "you are literally god to me and the only person who loves and cares about and understands me you are the greatest human being alive please let me worship you i love you so much" and quackity just being like "woag dude" LIKE. also im so so so for real wilbur has so much paranoid schitzo swag i dont know how to explain that this man is fucking TEXTBOOK paranoia and he has so many paranoid anxiety habits that make me feel insane. i think he always makes sure to lock the door and check the lock like six times when he comes home and he cant sleep at night if hes alone in the house so he barely slept in paradise and didnt sleep right until he moved in with quackity, i think he has really severe paranoia about imposters and intruders and also barely slept and was constantly on high alert in pogtopia and he could only really sleep when quackity visited or if tommy or technoblade shared a mat with him, i think he also has delusions of grandeur that he has to deal with a lot and reality checking him can be really dangerous especially coupled with his bpd because he then SNAPS to black splitting on himself so hard he makes himself sick, ohhhh cwilbur my sickly man i adore you so sorry for being insane in your inbox

The first ask in question

(Ok so as a disclaimer obviously headcanons are personal and there's no wrong ones and you're valid for reading it this way)

With Wilbur I very much agree, but I don't see bpd in Quackity tbh. It more so looks like ADHD alongside shit like abandonment issues, being invalidated his entire life, being generally overworked and having no healthy outlet for his feelings, having trouble identifying said feelings in the first place, etc - all of which are very common in/characteristic of ADHD. I don't remember him ever splitting. His shitty love life makes sense with ADHD too - deficiency of dopamine makes it very easy to mistake the dopamine boost from "new person to talk to" for a crush (believe me). Hypersexuality is also common in ADHD, as well as emotional dysregulation, alexithymia (difficulty/inability to identify one's own emotions), overstimulation, shutdowns, etc, which can occasionally resemble splitting, but is very different, and works through exhaustion and frustration rather than delusions. Various types of paranoia as well as heightened irritability are also very common, especially when your senses are clouded by sensory/information/emotional overstimulation. And especially the splitting outwards part just doesn't sit right with me - maybe i missed a stream or sth but I haven't seen anything like that in him. Furthermore I'd actually say he generally points negative feelings/breakdowns etc inwards for the most part - and when ADHD is being pointed inwards it usually leads exactly to developing/heightening shit like paranoia, rejection sensitivity, hypersexuality, emotional dysregulation, alexithymia, etc. He can snap and isolate himself, but it's very different to splitting. ALSO - very important part - Quackity doesn't exhibit mania episodes. He occasionally exhibits the type of hyperactivity and excitement representative of ADHD, but it's never this state of delirium with feelings of grandeur, delusions, etc. Wilbur does exhibit mania episodes - pretty heavily at that - and the contrast makes it pretty apparent that Quackity's case is different.

THAT BEING SAID I don't have bpd, so for a perspective from someone who does, here's a rant from @octobre-ackedia: <<On so many levels, Quackity doesn't show bpd symptoms. Not all abandonment issues are borderline personality disorder. I don't think I need to say it, but bpd takes over the entire life of a person, it's not just trauma. And I don't really have much to elaborate on with the ask, mostly showing Wilbur's bpd traits but that's for an entirely different rant, and I need to chill out. Quackity doesn't black split on others. It was not shown a single time. He slowly loses trust in people, he builds walls, but that's not splitting. He doesn't start to irrationally hate everyone around himself, think that people are just cruel and bad, and more importantly don't care about him, suddenly becoming aggressive towards them. He backs off a little bit more with each disappointment in people around him, ending up not so much hating, as avoiding human relationships. And he doesn't have a favourite person, not even Slime who was just so perfectly there to be an example of that. Quackity learnt how to trust the guy, building a friendship, but never became truly "obsessed" with him. He grieved his death, tried to save him, but FFS, that's not a favourite person, that's how human relationships work (or more so, hybrid relationships haha). He doesn't get manic. You could say he becomes strongly confident, hypersexual or overworking himself, but the important part in it is the reasoning. He doesn't start believing he is some sort of a saviour for the world and can build a perfect country, or that he doesn't need anyone for that. He starts a project and might go overboard with it, but it's never this... aggressive as with bpd. With the 9 most visible symptoms, he has maybe 3 of them, which are all clear reactions to specific situations. Unstable relationships? Schlatt became an abuser, Karl and Sapnap abandoned him, he never really influenced any of that happening. The abandonment issues and feeling of emptiness are simple reactions to that trauma. His moves are calculated, he doesn't really show any mood swings, he has a quite clear image of himself, he doesn't experience any suicide ideation or shows extreme examples of self harm/putting himself in danger. And what about the part of splitting when he pushes people away after getting scared of becoming too close? He always stays, in the end. Even when he tried so hard not to get attached to Slime. Where's the white splitting? Where's anything, really. I still stand with the headcanon of them having to navigate a hard relationship, with both of them experiencing severe mental issues, but it's not bpd4bpd. Q is my depressed ADHD bitch, who struggles with trauma.>>

Also I'd say Wilbur's heavily autism coded too - as a bonus it does frequently "strengthen" bpd cause of the type of trauma autistic people experience. Q I see as very much ADHD but I also low-key hc him as somewhere on the spectrum too, though I'm not as heavily set on that

Tldr while Wilbur absolutely clearly has some severe mental issues, Quackity's seem (to me at least) to be more easily and consistently explainable by a combination of ADHD (maybe low support needs autism) and some (pretty damn severe (canonically - looking mainly at all the abandonment + sa hints)) trauma

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

Response to the Form! Part 1

Hello, my lesbian twinks, my twink lesbians, and everyone else like deranged bisexuals, gunslinging heteros, and fire blasting asexuals.

Today, I will go through the form, and see what people say about where they are from and stuff like that. I will not share the personal testimonies from that section, however!

We had 59 replies in total, by the way!

As expected, the majority of people are from North America. I say 'as expected' because I'm just assuming that's the largest CoG demographics? Also the story takes place in a nefarious place in the United States, so I feel USAmericans might be more interested in that than like... someone from Australia. That being said, here are the percentages:

60.3% (or 35 answers) are from North America.

12.1% (or 7 seven answers) are from Western Europe.

8.6% (or 5 answers) are from South East Asian/Oceania.

6.9% (or 4 answers) are from South America.

5.2% (or 3 answers) are from Eastern Europe.

5.2% (or 3 answers) are from Central America.

1.7% (or 1 answer) is from South Asia.

Quickly, I had assumed the numbers to be around that. While there may be to some degree fewer non-white people within the CoG community, I don't believe this to be entirely true. But I feel there may be an unspoken social contract that if a character's race will always have the basic race (white) and I think to some degree that doesn't foster a space for people who are not white to have the ability to go 'hey, I am represented in this work, I want to be involved more within the community involving this work.' Something about the default being white, I'm assuming? I've noticed it's more apparent for Black people.

Products are made with white people (the assumed default in mind at least here) and to some degree, a video video is a product despite being an artistic project. Anyways, this is just a segway to roll games made by non-white people through our asks and I'll publish them with a link.

yea

yea x2

The politicized nature of indigenity and Indigenous struggle by default restricts who can possibly be Indigenous from a state pov (further reading: Paper Genocides (two links)). Also, well, there is an ongoing genocide in Canada that is largely unspoken (and in America, and in various places in the world) on Indigenous places.

This is the segway that the donation for next month will go to the following group:

Many reserves literally don't have access to running water. If you have ever been on reserves, the state actively lets its Indigenous population become sick from drinking tainted water or forced to buy bottled water amid food deserts. At the same time, the nearby stream is being used for large-scale production. The passivity from our government to just wash their hands and look around as if nothing can be done is part of the ongoing attacks on several communities in Canada.

this was 90% at some point lol

Compare and match: the same amount of Yes and No responses for the white/racialized question. That being said, that was one of the sections in the follow-up in the bottom section that we received a lot of inquiries about, like how many works don't have characters with disabilities, and that's something we are eyeing.

For the record, the next three questions will all be paired together. It's hard for us at this stage of development to like include the groups mentioned, but that's something to keep in mind with future works or sequels or prequels.

First and foremost, despite the current lack of representation from these three groups in our IF, we still want to cater to an environment where people part of these communities are welcome to talk about how they feel about the IF itself, and possibly the lack of representation and how they may feel they are portrayed by characters who fit these themes. (This applies to the other categories!) The IF is being written by an immigrant, so that's an issue that is personal to xer. For the refugee and intersex categories within the IF, while neither of us is part of these communities, though being an ally (especially during the current world events) is rather important to us.

So essentially if you got anything to say about these three groups because you feel a character might have a theme that is similar to one that someone from one of these communities might experience, you are 100% allowed to talk about it, criticize it, and feel however you want about it, and if you tell us, we will give it a big eyeful.

anyways! that's just part one ;)

let us see who got stickers tomorrow MWAH

[crowcryptid]

I'm sick and tired of YouTube VPN sponsorships so here are the facts presented in an easy to understand way.

For the purposes of this post, assume everything I say is in relation to being connected to your home router, unless stated otherwise. Businesses have a different use for VPNs.

What is a VPN? A VPN is a virtual private network. Think of it this way, imagine you are trading notes in class but they are encoded. The teacher takes a note but can't read it, but the teacher still sees you passing them. In this case, you are your PC or phone, the other person is the VPN server, the teacher is your ISP. ISP stands for internet service provider. It's whoever you are paying for your connection.

What does that mean? It means that your ISP doesn't see what you're doing. They can only see that you are connected to a VPN and how much data you're using.

Why would I use a VPN? If you are torrenting and have an annoying ISP that sends scary letters in the mail, it will stop them from sending a letter. Assuming you are doing things correctly and bind your VPN to your torrenting client and using a kill switch. Also, should you be accessing content that is censored, it can help to bypass that. Whether that works or not depends on how strict the censorship is. You can also use it to access another countries version of a product. For Example: Netflix in the US will have different content than Netflix in Australia. Keep in mind not all VPNs are equal in this regard. Some of them may not be able to stream from every country.

As a normal home user, the most a VPN is going to do for you is as follows: Accessing content from other regions, avoiding your ISP snooping in on what websites you look at, torrenting, and possibly accessing censored content. That's literally it.

In the event you are doing some illegal shit that gets law enforcement involved, this is not going to help unless you are truly covering your tracks. I will not explain beyond that because the people who need to do that are either: Irrationally paranoid, doing some terrible things, or are journalists/whistleblowers etc in hiding. So not the people reading this.

Businesses use them too, but I'm only talking about home users here. All that other stuff you hear in YouTube sponsors is either a lie or something you don't need.

What is an IP? It's like your networks address. Think of your router and IP as the same thing, this isn't accurate, but I'm simplifying here. The router is like the mail room in a building. The requested data comes to the mail room, your router/public IP, and then gets sorted into the correct mail box. Similarly, any data you send out is being placed in the outgoing box in the mail room and everything has a return address on it. So anyone receiving your data knows where it's coming from. Each individual mail box is a device connected to the router. The mail box is your local IP and isn't important for this topic, just thought I'd mention it. Your public IP reveals your general location (it is not exact and can be off by a considerable distance) and what ISP you are using. This is only what is revealed to the internet as a whole. Your ISP still has your address, name, billing info, etc, all tied to your IP.

What about my location? When using a VPN your IP will be whatever the VPN provider gives you. So this can mean your location changes and any website you access will not see your home router's IP. KEEP IN MIND. VPN server IPs are not a secret. Your ISP and any website you visit knows you are using a VPN. Some sites will block you entirely due to this. You will also get way more captchas in general. Because hiding yourself is inherently seen as suspicious or possibly malicious to companies.

Does it help with privacy? YES AND NO. Prepare for a long one here. Excuse the use of caps. If you use a VPN but are logged into your usual account, using your usual device, with the same browser you always use, basically what I'm trying to say is that Everything you're doing is the same but your IP is different, then NO. It will only serve you for the usual purposes of torrenting, hiding activity from your ISP, or streaming from other countries. Facebook, Twitter, Google, etc still know it's you. I cannot describe to you just how much you are being tracked, always. Ok not always, but most of the time. Someones personal website built from the ground up with no ads probably isn't tracking you much.

Yes, your ISP is only seeing encrypted data but they and every website you visit knows exactly who you are and they can tell you're using a VPN.

ALL TRUST HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THE ISP AND PLACED IN THE VPN PROVIDER INSTEAD. If you are using a VPN because you do not trust your ISP or government, you still have to trust the VPN provider.

THE DATA YOU SEND TO WEBSITES IS NOT "HIDDEN" FROM THAT WEBSITE.

This. Literally doesn't make any sense. But YT sponsorships will insist that everything you do is encrypted and safe from "hackers" and "all forms of spying". THAT'S NOT HOW THIS WORKS. A VPN will only encrypt data between YOU and the VPN server. Once it LEAVES THE VPN SERVER it is NOT ENCRYPTED BY THE VPN ANYMORE. It's up to the website/database/server owners to keep your passwords and personal info safe. You do not have any control over data leaks or breaches.

The only encryption from that point on will be from HTTPS which means that any sensitive data is hidden.

Here is a visual to help you understand.

You [encrypted stuff] -> your ISP [sees encrypted stuff but doesn't know whats inside] -> VPN [server decrypts the data and sees everything you sent] -> Website you accessed

Ok. Now. This sounds scary and dangerous. But every website that uses HTTPS (the little lock icon on your browsers url bar) is ALSO encrypting things. This is why you can login to something on public wifi and not have your login info stolen immediately. A website that's only using HTTP is NOT encrypting anything and most browsers will warn you of this. No social media site or really any modern site is using HTTP. HTTPS is the standard.

So that whole ad read about "protecting you on public wifi" is not as important as it sounds. Yes, some things would be visible, but do you really care that someone can tell you loaded up Instagram at a coffee shop? That's for you to decide. If you use a VPN you could hide that, but it's not doing much else. If anything, you should be more concerned that the router is what it says it is. By that I mean that the router actually belongs to the coffee shop you're at and that isn't a decoy pretending to be the real one or that the real router is compromised. You really won't be able to check this if there's no obvious sign like there being 2 networks both claiming to be the coffee shops guest network. Even if that is the case, HTTPS is still encrypting things. They can pull some other tricks though like sending you to a fake website that looks like the real one to see if you type in your login info. Or try to distribute malware or exploit your device. But, this isn't really something you should lose sleep over. It's probably not going to happen lmao

If you are still paranoid about public wifi, just use the VPN or your phone's data plan.

Now for the other included BS that sponsorships will spew.

Does it increase security? No. Unless you are trying to avoid an IP grabber I suppose. If your connection was unencrypted in the first place, especially not. This means the website is transmitting everything in plaintext for anyone to see or modify along the way. The VPN would only encrypt the data between your device and the VPN server. Afterwards it become unsafe again. If your connection was already encrypted via HTTPS and is presumably not compromised, then no it does not help either as you were already secure. VPNs do not block malware or malicious websites. Those are added features that may be included in you VPN plan. I wouldn't place all my trust into a feature like that. You should always have multiple layers of protection, the most important one being common sense to not click things randomly. The other layers being: Up to date OS and software, an adblocker, a firewall, and antivirus software.

Does it protect me from data breaches, hackers, or whatever else? Again, no. Any data breach monitoring, password management, malware or malicious website blocking is not what a VPN does. Those are just added features that some VPNs throw in to make them seem more important than they are.

Can I trust the VPN providers?

Depends.

Many are dishonest and lie in their advertisements. In addition, a lot of the biggest VPNs are owned by the same companies, giving an illusion of choice. For example you've probably heard of Express VPN or Private Internet Access. They are owned by Kape Technologies, who used to be called Crossrider. It's owned by Israeli billionaire Teddy Sagi, the 4th most wealthy person in Israel. Crossrider was a platform to develop browser extensions that was used to spread ads and malware to users. Crossrider directly profited from harming users until they shut the platform down and pivoted to buying up VPN companies. Yes there were legitimate extensions made with Crossrider, but it's reputation was forever tarnished by allowing malware for financial gain. The companies name was changed to distance itself from these controversies. The Chief Information Officer for Express VPN, Daniel Gericke, was part of a team that hacked accounts of human rights activists, journalists and rival governments for the United Arab Emirates. Lastly, Kape Technologies own VPN reviewing sites: vpnmentor.com and wizcase.com and push their products with these reviews without mentioning the relation.

Does this seem trustworthy to you? That's up to you to decide.

Other big names like Surfshark VPN and Nord VPN operate under the same parent company now, but the relation between the two goes back farther. The founder of Surfshark revealed that Tesonet helped create Surfshark and Nord, this relationship was hidden, and now they are together again. Also Tesonet and Nord security were both co-founded by Tom Okman. There is no controversy in this case, it's simply dishonest in my opinion for these big name brands to market themselves like separate services when they are both in the same pocket. It also does not favor users to have their data controlled by ever growing tech corporations, especially those spouting their "privacy" services.

Anyway, this next bit is more on the paranoid side, but I think it's worth mentioning. Some VPNs can be thrown out the window simply because of their location. Most notably the "5 Eyes" countries. Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and the United States. No VPN hosted in any of these countries should be trusted as they can be forced to comply with investigations. Allies of the 5 eyes that assist in surveillance are Singapore, Israel, South Korea, Japan, Denmark, France, the Netherlands, Norway, Belgium, Germany, Italy, Spain, and Sweden. You don't really need to worry about this as a normal user, but I'm just mentioning it as VPNs in these countries can be compelled to give up their users data, should there be any data to begin with, as they claim to "keep no logs". I'm just trying to prove a point here that true privacy is difficult if not impossible to achieve.

TLDR: Here's a summary

At the end of the day it will hide your activity from your ISP, but reveal it to the VPN provider instead. It will hide your real IP address from any website you visit. It will NOT hide your activity from that website, as they need to serve you the content you access. It will NOT hide your identity from websites you are logged into or even if you aren't logged in as you've been uniquely identified by browser fingerprinting or other methods. If you use Google but suddenly are in another country, Google is not fooled.

Everyone can see that you are using an IP that belongs to a VPN company. The thing is ultimately most websites don't really care. Netflix doesn't care that you want to watch a show that's available in Canada but not in the US. So if that's what you want it for, then yes it's fine. Just make sure your VPN works for streaming as not all of them do. You are not increasing your privacy or security if you are logged into your personal Netflix account that has you name, email, credit card, etc. It's just common sense. Your ISP doesn't care that you torrent, they send you those letters to appease copyright holders.

Your data on public wifi is being encrypted even without a VPN. Unless you are using a non encrypted website for some reason. The only thing a VPN would do is hide what websites you are accessing from anyone who is monitoring that. Also it would hide the public wifi's IP from whatever website you access. You are secure without the VPN because modern websites use HTTPS, which means your connection is encrypted by default.

It does not protect you from malware or otherwise, though some VPN providers add protection. This really has nothing to do with VPNs and implying it's the VPN itself that protects you is misinformation.

Recommendation for security: Bitdefender. There is a free option.

Recommendations for VPNs: Mullvad, Proton, IVPN.

Recommendations for browsers: Firefox (Best choice for the average person. Don't use default settings if you care about privacy. Look up how to harden Firefox), Tor (slow and not very convenient but its more private than Firefox), or Mullvad broswer (Honestly this is too far for the average user and will be very inconvenient.)

Specifically for iPhones and iPads: you will want to use safari with adguard. Other browsers on IOS are just safari with a different look due Apple's rules.

Specifically for Android: Mull or Cromite

Anyway. Just sayin' if you use Google or anything owned by Meta (Facebook), Microsoft, or own a smart phone, which is most people, privacy isn't really a thing. But you can minimize tracking I suppose.