#self-harm mention for ts /

[winterwhisperz-blog]

*nervous sweat* so !! I finished this fic a bit ago, and since it’s not too long I thought I’d share it !!

It’s the one I hinted at in https://www.tumblr.com/winterwhisperz-blog/777581922827288576/me-writing-my-self-indulgent-ts-fic-my-ts-oc-me this post !!

For context it’s my oc Katsuro’s diary as they recall a memory from their childhood!!! I’m making it a lil series where I write diary entries of each stage of their life ! This is ofc, from stage one!

I hope you enjoy !! <333

The Tales Of A Hound

Warnings: mentions of blood, small religious Imagery at the very end but it’s not major,death.

Notes: The monster in this is not vere !! I know it could be seen like that because of the setting lmao but this is actually a hound-type monster to reference Katsuro’s future title as the hound !!

—————

I always felt comfort in the unloved. The macabre, the unholy. Sharp fangs and bloody claws drew me closer to a beast than soft white fluff or gentle tongues.

When the pure were in my hands, they ended up broken. An accidental death that no soft creature could sympathize with. The dead and monstrous never broke.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been compelled to reach for the deadly with gentleness.

I love looking into their eyes. The same thoughts would pool in my mind

‘I see you. You hurt thing. You are just like me.’

I didn’t see why the bat couldn’t be as loved as the dove. When I had asked what made them so different, I was told no dove posses a disease so fatal. I realized quickly they saw me the same way.

The monster was a friend because they were like me.

Years ago, a time I hardly remember now, I was taken from the sea and had my feet on solid ground. A village commonly coated in snow, barred with iron to keep out the creatures in the storms. The cold breeze would cause the charms to chime, every door littered with talismans, Wards against the darkness.

They saw me as the first breach of their sanctuary. I remember stares, hollow and dark. I was just as scared as them as they were of me, ironically. They noticed the grey in my skin, and never would hold my gaze. My Sobo explained I was silent for months.

Quietly observing the snow as it fell, blowing on the glass to from creatures with teeth. Apparently I tried mimicking their growls and hissings. I remember the cold biting through my socks as I ventured outside when midnight hit.

I would climb on the tallest thing I could reach, and would answer the crying beast that howled the village into nauseating fear.

It was a comfort. The first time I felt safe enough to speak. I would cup my hands around my mouth and strain my poor neck as I tried to impress even the distant monster in the storm. Eager to please, even then. I’ve had two curses my whole life and that is one of them.

I howled till the sun rose, the village finding me asleep in the snow, huddled near the fences. As close to the outside as I could get.

The rumors spread like wildfire after that apparently. That my Sobo had welcomed in a demon child. One that was calling in only more disturbance and chaos.

A dying world needed no more monsters.

And maybe, they were right. Since after just a few months, a demon breached the fences and wards. Entering the village with snarling jaws and massive paws.

It did no more harm than causing fear. And I could see that it came only because it was hungry.

I came across it one night, tearing into a sheep inside a farmer’s shed. It turned it’s large furry head to me, red clinging to its teeth. It approached, snarling, massive compared to me. Its jaws were open, but instead of biting, it merely roared in my face.

The breath tickled my cheeks, the sound making me laugh. It was just like any other cold, frightened dog. And though I pitied the dead sheep, I knew that sheep too would tear into me if it had the proper teeth.

I knew hunger, and I knew what it would do to you.

I roared back at the demon, trying once again to sound impressive. But I couldn’t help but laugh until I had tears.

The demon followed me for days after, I think. Though I don’t remember it straying too far from the corner of my eyes. It showed its face to me only when the moon was full, or when I was crying.

I had been bullied a lot during that time. I used to think it was because of my haircut but now I know it was because I was a creepy child who befriended the demon terrorizing our village…And also because of my haircut. Gods was it hideous I have no idea why my Sobo wasted an artist’s time sketching it out.

I looked like a SOUP BOWL. Ew.

Anyway, I digress.

(The attacks, however, did indeed dwindle as it followed me)

I remember escaping the fence one day, traveling deep inside the frosted woods. It was there I came across a meadow, strewn with the corpses of goats and deer.

My demon was in the midst, bloodied and huffing. It turned toward me, that was the first time it spoke.

“Will you run now? After you have seen me?”

It approached like the first time, fangs gleaming near my face. I was silent, as I often was—and tipped closer, kissing the tip of its bloody snout.

I knew it was hungry. And that it was angry. Lonely. That it wasn’t loved like the deer or the sheep, the goats and the rabbit. It wasn’t loved. So its hunger was not solved by how much it consumed, or how much it tore and raged.

You can die from hunger, and you can die quicker if you are not loved.

So, I did what I felt strongly to do. I loved, I opened my arms and gave the demon the love the church gave to the lamb.

——-

[dominterlude]

sunburn

pairing: beth greene x fem!reader

summary: the governor’s attack, the aftermath of terminus, eugene’s revelation, and a secret of your own — you’re running out of hope and the possibility of seeing beth again is the only thing keeping you going. until it isn’t.

cw: canonical character death, canon-typical gore/violence, angst, slight comfort, mention of self-harm and suicide. no use of y/n, lowercase intended.

word count: 3.2k

the hollow deception of eugene’s assurance had been unfairly ripped away as quick as the prison, faster than the feigned sanctuary of terminus.

the overcompensation for his lies — hidden in the form of a blunt “it’s classified” — that you’d all foolishly ignored in favour of an end to what had previously brought everyone together. that you ignored. you knew better. you were at the cdc and you’d seen the playback of ts-19, heard what jenner said about the future of civilisation.

this time you watched, haunted. the ghostly admittance ringing in your ears as abraham landed harsh, unrelenting blows to the scientist’s face. you flinched like you had when the gunshot killed jenner’s wife for a second time.

the confession that he didn’t have the answers, that he couldn’t help the world heal from a singular injury that had torn it apart, unable to prevent the fate that you’d all inevitably end up as a member of the herds you avoided and fought. it was all a ploy to ensure his own safety, and the realisation was growing louder with each punch.

although, gratitude was brimming at the fact that the redheaded man’s anger had taken the different, more explicit route. he had the strength to mould the mess he’d left on the side of the road that you weren’t sure you were capable of.

leaving you to scrutinise the aftermath of his fiery temper. beaten, bloodied and understood in a way that made you angry you weren’t the one responsible.

the man who was, drifting from the matted mullet and silently falling to his knees. tears of disbelief stinging his eyes and leaving a trail of mortification on the length of his cheeks. your anger replaced with something softer as the five of you stilled. rosita’s usual fluidity of comfort absent as she rooted herself to the cracks in the concrete. disappointment souring her pretty features.

glenn and maggie’s expressions twisted with regret, remorse that they’d abandoned a group they’d been with since the start for a promise they admittedly doubted, mirroring your own thoughts. regardless, you busied yourself with the flash of guilt that passed over tara’s face. misinterpretation nestled in the furrow of her brows, part of her lips and paling of her skin.

she resembled the dead that eugene had falsely sworn he could fix.

beth’s soft footsteps approached from the shadows of the group’s sanctuary for the last few weeks, her home, a stark contrast to the harsh flickers and cracks of the fire that burned too brightly. sickeningly similar to the colour of her hair — too bright — and the blood the shard of glass had left when they heard your cries. too bright.

she hesitated when she saw you sitting there, stopping on the blades of grass twisting under the heel of her boot, her silhouette painted amber as she just watched. pushing her nerves down, she took a deep breath and then the a step in front of the other. you felt her presence before the rustle of her clothes as she sat down beside you, a small huff at the hardness of the ground and a spike in your heart rate at the sudden proximity.

you couldn’t hide the surprise in your eyes as they flashed to her and then back to the fire, an unreadable expression on her face but an inability to hide her own uncertainty.

for a long moment, you both sat in silence, the only sound the persistent crackle of the fire. the air between you was thick with unspoken words, a tapestry of questions and answers that remained untouched. her gaze fell to your hands, folded neatly in your lap, the knuckles white from the tension you held within.

she reached out, gently placing her hand over yours, and you flinched at the contact. but then, you relaxed, your hand itching to turn and intertwine your fingers. you sighed, wishing that you’d had an inch of the confidence she felt to touch your scarred skin in the first place as her thumb moved back and forth.

the silence grew heavier, each moment thick with unspoken words. you felt your throat tighten, the words you’d rehearsed in your mind earlier feeling awkward and clumsy. the fire crackled on, as if urging you to speak, to break the tension that hung in the air like mist.

finally, beth spoke, her voice low and grateful. "thanks for that- helping, i-i mean," her eyes avoided yours, looking for the something that you couldn't offer. you took a deep breath, knowing that the conversation you'd been dreading was now unavoidable.

"it's nothing, beth," you replied, your voice choked and heavy with emotion. "i had to." she nodded, but the silence remained, a wall between you two that felt hopeless.

your hand slid away, leaving a coldness in its wake. she picked at the hem of her shirt, a nervous habit you had noticed over the weeks at the farm. the fabric whispered under her fingertips, and you wondered what she was thinking.

you cleared your throat, deciding it was time to bridge the gap you normally aimed for with other people. "why’d you do it?" you asked, doing nothing to ease the tension. beth looked up, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames.

"i had to," she echoed your earlier words. "andrea told me i had a choice and i made it." she paused, swallowing hard. "i-i was scared."

you studied her profile, the light playing across her features. "you were stupid."

beth flinched, then nodded. "probably," she murmured. "but i’ll be okay now, i’ll protect myself."

her words hung in the air, a declaration of resilience amidst the inferno inside of you. you felt the weight of her gaze on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. instead, you focused on the flames, watching them devour the twigs and branches daryl had gathered earlier. the smell of burning wood suffocating, mingling with the faint scent of the peaches she was eating before she got the wound on her arm. it was a smell that brought comfort and warmth, but now it felt like a barrier, a reminder of what was left unsaid. of the state maggie found her in.

“go to bed, beth.”

your voice was firm. the guilt of letting lori leave beth alone with andrea was eating away at you. she was ready to argue but instead she nodded, standing up slowly. the fire cast a warm glow across the ground, but the shadows grew colder as she moved away from you.

"goodnight," she murmured, and the night grew darker. leaving you once again in the cocoon of your thoughts. the sound of her walking away from you was the only sound, a solitary witness to your failure fading into the dark.

you sat, the tortuous sound of the dead in the distance that was just a reminder of how you’d survived. how beth had survived.

you were going to see her again.

the firetruck lurched forward, the engine groaning as it navigated the desolate streets. the windows were cracked, allowing the cool evening air to whisper secrets of the outside world. you clutched the seat in front of you, heart pounding with melancholy and anticipation. it had been so long since you had seen her, felt her warmth beside you in the chaos.

abraham’s anger. tara’s guilt. maggie’s own excitement and the trickle of grief as she recounted the memory of her baby sister.

the faces of your family swam in and out of focus as the wheels rumbled along, each emotion etched into their features like the scars that lined their arms. they talked in hushed tones, sharing their own thoughts on what awaited at the hospital michonne had told them about. you nodded along, not really hearing the words, your mind racing with images of beth. telling you horrible jokes in an attempt to get you to laugh, the sound of her singing lullabies to judith, but you knew they were for the group too, the fiery determination in her eyes as you imagined her planning her escape.

the vehicle shuddered to a halt, jolting you back to reality. abraham called out, "grady’s up ahead. we’re gonna need to move fast and keep quiet. those things are attracted to noise like flies to shit sticks." his words snapped you out of your daze, and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. the doors hissed open, and the group spilled out, weapons at the ready.

the memories of beth.

you picked up your knife, the blade smooth and comfortable in your grip. the sun blistering as you wiped beads of sweat off your forehead with your forearm, the rays making it difficult to see the rows of stumbling walkers lined up at the fence with outstretched arms and starving moans.

you lunged forward, blade glistening and finding its mark in one of their eye sockets, met with an overfamiliar squelch and splatter of red. it crumpled to the ground, movements ceasing and many following as the morning dragged on. a rhythm you knew too well to get distracted, a dance of life and death you’d been doing since the world had gone to hell.

which is why the sound of someone’s voice shouldn’t have went unnoticed.

“daryl said you haven’t ate.”

you jumped at the softness of her tone among the clang of the fence, beth had crept up behind you, her eyes fixed on the undead. her expression was calm, almost serene, as she held a plate of food — your eyebrows furrowing when you noticed judith wasn’t in her arms, but the smell of warm meat wafted over, making you forget about your concern for the toddler. your stomach growling loudly.

you took a step back, wiping your knife clean on your shirt. "yeah, been busy," you replied, trying to keep the exhaustion from showing. she looked at you with a knowing smile, the kind that said she saw through your facade.

beth stepped closer, her voice a gentle whisper over the undying symphony of groans. "daddy said you gotta keep your strength up. we can't have you collapsing out here." she offered the plate again, and this time you took it, the weight of it feeling surprisingly substantial in your hands.

you looked at her, then at the food, and finally back at the walkers. "wonder when it’s my turn," you said aloud, the statement hanging in the air like a lead balloon.

beth paused, the smile fading from her face. "what do you mean?"

you took a deep breath, the smell of death mingling with the scent of cooked meat. "if i don't make it,” you shrugged. beth's eyes searched yours, a hint of worry creeping in. "lay me in the sun — when i die. make sure i’m lying in the sun.”

beth looked at you, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "that’s a weird thing to ask."

you gave a half-hearted chuckle. "i know, but it’s important.” you took a bite of the food, the flavor almost lost on you. you didn’t dare to elaborate on the morbid thought, but you knew beth understood. she’d seen enough death to recognize the peace in the simple things.

she didn't say anything at first, the silence stretching between you like the fence itself. finally, she nodded, her voice firm. "i promise."

you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, but it was immediately replaced with a heavier one. you had always known this was a possibility, but saying it aloud made it real.

the two of you stood there, side by side, for a moment longer. the fence was a blur of movement as the walkers shuffled against it, their hunger never-ending. but you weren't thinking about them anymore. you were thinking about the promise you had just made.

"thanks, beth," you murmured, swallowing the bite. "it means a lot."

beth gave a small smile, then took the plate back from you. "you're going to make it," she said with a conviction that you couldn't quite mirror. "we all are."

you nodded, trying to believe her, and turned back to the fence, knife at the ready. the walkers didn't care about your fears or your promises. they just kept coming, like the endless tide of a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

as you stabbed another through the eye, you couldn't help but wonder if today was the day your luck would run out. you pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. but deep down, you knew that beth's promise was more than just words. it was a bond that went beyond friendship, a pact forged in the fires of a world gone mad.

and as the sun reached its peak and your arms grew sore, you realized that the fear of dying wasn't just about you anymore. it was about leaving someone behind to carry on, and hoping that when your time came, they'd do the same for you.

rick’s face was tense, the grip on his weapon tight.

daryl's steps were sorrowful, his mind elsewhere.

maggie dropped to her knees. an agonising scream ripped from her throat as she tried to claw at her chest, instead clutching the arms that glenn threw to catch her; falling with his wife with the last scraps of comfort he could offer.

the rest of the group stood still, the deepest reminder of their humanity was their grief and they were trying to find something shallow in this.

your heartbeat was the same, one you’d felt countless times before, but now it echoed differently. more pronounced, more solitary.

you advanced forward, bidding daryl to let you hold her. he obliged, reluctantly, supporting her limp neck as he passed her to your arms. once she was resting in your grip, he harshly rubbed his nose, turning away from the rest of you. the blood from her hair staining his bare arms.

your hands, though gentle, trembled slightly as you held her, and you could feel the sticky warmth of the her blood seeping through your fingers. you slowly collapsed with beth in your arms, holding her body even tighter and placing her forehead atop of your own.

"no, no. no, please," your voice quivered, your eyes brimming with tears.

the air grew thick with unspoken dread. the light from the burning sun cast long shadows across the concrete ground, as if trying to escape from the grim scene it had witnessed. daryl, his eyes reddened and jaw clenched, stepped back, his arms now at his sides, useless without the weight of her body to hold onto.

your tremors grew more pronounced, your breaths shallow and erratic. the soft whimpers that escaped your lips were like a mournful melody echoing in the silence of the abandoned streets. carefully, you cradled beth’s head, your fingertips brushing against the lifeless skin that had once been so full of warmth and vitality. the smell of burnt hair and metal filled your nose.

“you’re okay,” you sniffled, whispering to the unresponsive form in your arms.

the others hovered nearby, unsure of what to do. they had seen their share of horrors, shared them, but this was a different kind of pain. it was personal, a wound that bled into the very fabric of their makeshift family. they had lost many, but beth was a symbol of hope, a reminder that goodness still existed amidst the decay.

rick’s gaze was fixed on the two of you, his eyes reflecting the same mix of despair and anger that was no doubt etched on daryl’s face. he took a step forward, his hand outstretched as if to offer some kind of comfort, but he knew that words would fall short. instead, he focused on the practical.

"we can't stay here," he said firmly, his voice a stark contrast to the gentle whispers coming from you. "we need to move. we need to bury her.”

you blinked up at him, nodding slowly. you understood the urgency in his voice, the need to keep moving. you knew they couldn't stay here, but the thought of letting go of beth was unbearable.

with a deep, shuddering breath, you started to stand, cradling beth's body tightly against your chest. each movement sending a fresh wave of pain you her, but you pushed through it, your eyes never leaving the still form in your arms. your legs felt weak, like they might give out at any moment, but you willed them to hold steady.

you glanced at maggie, the lifeless body of her sister weighing heavily in your arms. maggie's eyes were wet, her face a mask of grief and disbelief. she took a deep, shaky breath, trying to gather her thoughts.

"we have to honor her," maggie said, her voice thick with emotion. "we can't just leave her here."

rick nodded solemnly. "we don’t do that, maggie. we’ll find a safe place, somewhere quiet. we’ll do it right."

the group fell into a heavy march, carrying their grief with them like a shield. the sun beat down, unrelenting, as if the world itself didn't know or care that their hearts were breaking. they moved quickly yet carefully, scanning their surroundings for any signs of danger that might seek to capitalize on their vulnerability.

you all found a clearing a short distance from the chaos, a small patch of earth that had somehow remained untouched by the decay that consumed the rest of the world. the grass was a vibrant green, and a few lonely trees stood sentinel, offering a modest amount of shade. it was here you decided to lay beth to rest.

the digging was hard work, each shovelful of dirt feeling like a piece of your soul being torn away. sweat mingled with tears as you worked together, the rhythmic thunk of metal against the ground creating a somber beat to match the pounding in your hearts. the silence between you was palpable, punctuated only by the occasional sniffle or choked-back sob.

as the grave grew deeper, so did the realization that this was real, that beth was truly gone. your eyes never left the lifeless form of her, your mind racing with memories, trying to cling to every moment you had shared. the sound of the shovels grew more muffled, as if the earth itself was weeping, absorbing the echoes of your sorrow.

the air was still, the only sound the crunch of gravel underfoot as the group approached the freshly dug grave and a part of you wished that you could swap places. that beth could’ve kept her promise.

your eyes searched the group, finally settling on rick. you took a deep breath, the weight of your request heavy on your chest. "rick, i need a gun," you said, your voice firm, yet tinged with the slightest quiver.

he parted his lips once the meaning behind your words became clear, but you held a hand up to stop him from speaking. "i'm not going to leave her here alone," you added, your voice growing stronger. "i was living for her, rick."

rick studied you for a moment, the lines on his face deepening with understanding, flashes of who you were when you’d met suppressing his judgement. he nodded slowly, reaching to his belt and unbuckling the holster. with a firm grip, he pulled out a pistol and offered it to you, handle first. his eyes bore into yours, a silent goodbye.

"keep it safe," he murmured, planting a gentle kiss to your hairline.

you took the gun from his hand, feeling its cold weight in your palm. the metal was slick with sweat, but you didn't let it slip. you had made your decision.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

no more words were exchanged as he turned away from you. his steps were heavy as his figure blurred with the trees, the rest of the group ahead.

you took a deep breath. eyes shifting down to weapon in your hand, feeling the cold bite into your palm and the peeling redness on your nose.

the sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow across the clearing, painting the world in a bittersweet light that seemed to mock the coldness in your heart. you closed your eyes, putting the gun where you needed it to go.

this time you didn’t flinch.

[lovely-mosspatch]

intro ₊˚⊹♡

hello~ i'm alosia/lynn/acacia (used to go by koke, i don't anymore)

CONTENT WARNINGS

potential mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, and american politics

self-dx depression and anxiety + i suspect i'm autistic and/or have adhd so sometimes i may mention those topics!! if you're not comfortable with that, then you may want to reconsider interacting!!

bio ₊˚⊹♡

name: lynn, alosia

pronouns: any (they/them preferred)

sexuality: queer

age: minor :33

kins (don't take these too seriously?): lain (s.e. lain), siffrin (isat), dazai (bsd), ranpo (bsd), oda (bsd), mafuyu (pjsk), mizuki (pjsk)

pronouns (removed ts because I Cannot Be Contained)

neocities (wip!!)

interests ₊˚⊹♡

.°˖✧ animanga

bungo stray dogs (current obsession!!) - jujutsu kaisen - project sekai - toilet-bound hanako-kun - serial experiments lain - violet evergarden

.°˖✧ music

smiling broadly/twinkle park - mitski - roar - tv girl - kairikibear

.°˖✧ books

percy jackson/heroes of olympus by rick riordan - wuthering heights by emily bronte - anne of green gables by lm montgomery - any sherlock holmes written by arthur conan doyle - jane eyre by charlotte bronte

(i'm not pretentious about classical literature or anything, i just read a lot of old stuff because it's what my parents let me read <3)

.°˖✧ games

in stars and time (not finished!!) - ps1 serial experiments lain - stardew valley - genshin impact (not really anymore but) - bungo stray dogs mayoi inu kaikitan - mystic messenger - needy stream overdose (of course i do)

.°˖✧ shows/movies

psych - leverage

.°˖✧ dislikes

knitting - killing plants - uhh messing things up???

.°˖✧ other

writing!!! (my passion but i don't do it much because i'm a massive perfectionist) - drawing (sometimes) - guitar - piano - singing - crochet - blood and mild gore (will NOT post any though)

also don't recommend me stuff unless you're ok with it taking me months/years to watch it because it takes me FOREVER to get the energy to pay attention to a show ;-;

tags ₊˚⊹♡

mossposting - original posts by ME

moss answers - answering asks

moss grows - talking to mutuals

pebble in a jar - talking to/about my wife-thing

@mossy-writing is my alt where i post about writing/worldbuilding and talk about ocs and all that cool stuff!!

credits ₊˚⊹♡

@magicalboything for the lace dividers

anything else is screenshots of manga/anime HELP

[dam-peace]

Just read your getting warmer snippet and oh boy 💀 I don’t know if my sensitive ass can handle T but imma try anyway 😭. If MC can be anywhere near as sensitive as me there will be a lot of tears I’m sure. I do appreciate you making them same sex available even though you didn’t have to. I honestly think a same sex MC fits well with Ts route considering the whole “no sinning” thing. Very interesting stuff, can’t wait to see how this proceeds.

I'll definitely input as many options as I can so the MC can fully express themselves. You'll be free to cry at times if you so feel to do so, but I won't be held responsible for how T.Maxwell chooses to deal with a super sensitive MC 😅🫣

Also, having a wider range of gendered MC's definitely adds flavour to T.Maxwell's route for sure. Given as you mentioned, the whole "No sinning" thing 👀

However, what makes for good writing might not always be what's good for the MC's peace of mind 😭 I don't want to spoil anything, but I will say that every MC, regardless of gender will struggle immensely when romancing T.Maxwell.

To the point where anyone who willingly chooses their route, I always joke and say it's a form of self-harm 😭😅 (even though I, too, would do the same because I love a dominant grump 😩)

And players get a little taste of how hard it is to romance T.Maxwell in their "A Warm Evening & An Even Hotter Touch" side story. And that's not even the half of how bad Tobias/Tahlia's episodes can really get 😬 I was literally telling my beta testers yesterday that Kaedent needed a giant like E.Struijk on the team for more reasons than one and T.Maxwell is one of those said reasons 😅

But anyway, as I was saying, every player will struggle when romancing T.Maxwell. Hell, even befriending them won't be the easiest 😅 but MC's who identify as non-binary or are the same gender as T.Maxwell will find it a tad bit harder than those who are the opposite gender to Tobias/Tahlia.

But guys, I promise you the reward at the end of this long, arduous and dangerous task of romancing T.Maxwell truly is the biggest payout because when Tobias/Tahlia is in...oh boy, they're ALL in 👀😏

[panvnsleake]

rant thing..... yeah. our irl friend on discord thinks we're faking ts and now theyre mad but we're super sure about it ourselves? why are they trying to tell us how we're supposed to be when we dont even chat with them that often. like it was just now and this was their exact words. "not ts hoe self diagnosing without research as a minor 🥀" only because they saw our status was plural. we didnt mention anything else. uh. pleaseeee dont assume this kind of stuff. we did do research in fact. (also "ts" means "this shit" not "this"💔) honestly thought we could trust them because they were supportive of everything else we've done but okay one new person not to trust. blocking them probably because we're scared of them. also theyre a minor as well so why are they acting like theyre not 🪫🪫 just some stupid rant thing its like midnight... also because we got into a whole nother fight with someone else. we might end up unfriendjng everyone except para on discord. plus we only got it to chat with them anyways but yeah another yapfest great. tmi but we're nervous and it feels like we're about to puke /srs. crazy how we lost like. 2 online friends at once but they were like skin tags. they did more harm than good -🌾

IM SORRY TO HEAR THAT, BUT YES, BLOCKING THEM WOULD BE THE BEST THING TO DO. YOUR REAL FRIENDS ARE THOSE WHO ACCEPT YOU FOR WHO YOU ARE -CG

[ask-the-rw-opposites-au]

Intro post

WELCOME TO THE RW OPPOSITES AU! RAN BY @th3realsp1nb4llwh1zz3r

⨂★⨂★⨂★⨂★⨂★⨂★⨂★⨂★⨂★⨂★⨂★⨂

Askable Characters!:

The Savior:

<Talks like this>

Messenger of Four Cyan Moons

eats by pulling needles out of their tail. However, they are blunt and can only pierce fruit.

green pelt with black patches.

Any pronouns

The Marine:

(Talks like this)

Has rhinophores instead of ears

Caretaker of two slugpups.

blue pelt. Has a tail fin + gills.

He/any

The Pacifist:

(talks like this)

Messenger of Bloodied Battlefield

Lazy fruit eater.

dark turquoise pelt. Wears a necklace.

she/her (transfem)

The Minimalist:

{talks like this}

Lead Hunter of the Metropolis colony

Doesn't eat much (hence his name)

dark blue pelt.

He/him

The Martyr (the one in my Pfp):

[talks like this]

No survival skills whatsoever

Religious.

Black pelt

He/him

The Heretic:

<talks like this>

Very strong despite being only 8 months old.

Resentful.

ultramarine pelt.

She/any

The Flames:

{talks like this}

Battle scars. Literally everywhere.

Messenger of Far from the Sun

Red pelt. Long whiskers tipped with green, oval shaped growths.

He/she

The Sinner:

[talks like this]

Mostly mechanical, has a TV head.

Stuck in a time loop.

Purple pelt. Maroon head.

She/it

Far from the Sun:

[talks like this]

War loving iterator

His Superstructure is mostly collapsed, but he is still fully functioning

Yellow scales. Has a cyan spot on his forehead.

He/him

Ten Rivers:

(talks like this)

Fully collapsed. Barely functions.

Infected with the rot.

Mostly black and blue due to rot, but has naturally green scales.

She/her

†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪†♪

RULES:

NO NSFW!!!

DON'T BE A 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴

NO JOKES ABOUT SUICIDE, SELF HARM, OR SEXUAL HARASSMENT!

Fandoms I don't want mentioned

Any transfur game

Pressure

Playtime Friends

OCS that are species from the fandoms mentioned above are fine (EX: Gnarpian OC)

∅Ω∅Ω∅Ω∅Ω∅Ω∅Ω∅Ω∅Ω∅Ω∅Ω∅Ω∅Ω∅

Tags:

#🔪🥝- The Savior: anything Savior does. Answers, reblogs, ect.

#🌊🐌- The Marine: anything Marine does. Answers, reblogs, ect.

#💎🌳- The Pacifist: anything Pacifist does. Answers, reblogs, ect.

#💠🐦‍⬛- The Minimalist: anything Minimalist does. Answers, reblogs, ect.

#🌑🌸- The Martyr: anything Martyr does. Answers, reblogs, ect.

#🫐🪶- The Heretic: anything Heretic does. Answers, reblogs, ect.

#🧨🔥- The Flames: anything Flames does. Answers, reblogs, ect.

#📺👾- The Sinner: anything Sinner does. Answers, reblogs, ect.

#☀️🌆- Far from the Sun: anything FFTS does. Answers, reblogs, ect.

#🏞️⚱️- Ten Rivers: anything TS does. Answers, reblogs, ect.

#🐟((insert text)): mod yapping.

[starrypawz]

So I was thinking a bit about Linkin Park recently since essentially they are like my emotional support band that carried me through my teenage years and beyond and I listen to them constantly basically if I had to be honest and find it interesting how they basically swung into a more outwardly political bend/protest music for their albums released between 2007-2014

Minutes to Midnight: The title is a reference to the Doomsday Clock and the album is actually quite a noticeable 'Fuck you Bush' album with two particularly noticeable songs, Hands Held High (Iraq war/Conflict in the middle east) and Little Things Give You Away (Hurricane Katrina)

I think it's just generally their 'angriest' album with a degree of that being sort of self directed anger and frustration and also just general themes of regret but also a desire to like move on from past mistakes and do better it's ultimately just a little hopeful like it's early days and it's big emotions and complicated topics you can't quite grasp yet all you know is you are waking up and getting angry but you're maybe not quite sure at who or why you just know shits wrong.

Thousand Suns: This album is just broadly about the horrors of nuclear war/nuclear apocalypse and uses samples from Oppenheimer, Martin Luther King and Mario Savio (which this was actually my introduction to the 'bodies against the gears' speech) and I'd broadly class this one as a protest music album this is the album of like very loudly expressing your disapproval and starting to direct your anger outwards rather than inwards you are learning . There's still anger here but the sound is softer

Living Things: I'd say less of an outright target/theme compared to MtM and TS but it is generally a protest song album, lots of just general 'fuck the system' energy like wanting to hold those who harm accountable like this is an album of frustration really like of railing against systems holding you back as you can't quite break through yet and you're hurting. The sound here is very different broadly it's a noticeable departure from old Linkin Park

The Hunting Party: Like LT I think this album has like less of a focused theme, but I'd class it as protests all the same I think if MTM is anti Bush and TS is anti nuclear war this is... I think just broadly an anti war album if you look at it.

Like it's an album of frustrations again against systems that held you back and systems that made you complicit in harm and have also hurt you those themes of self directed anger and outwardly directed anger come through and I think it's... a lot of precise directed anger as it's sort of... that earlier angry sound you find in their early but more refined, a little softer like by this point you know anger is a tool and you know how to wield it properly and you want answers and you're taking someone to task like you're going down this fucker is coming down with you for what they did. The sound here is like between the two styles it's refined

Also I'd say that the band has always had something as Hybrid Theory and Meteora have that like angry thread of protest but I think it was more... adolescent like that kind of 'yeah fuck the man/the system' that was really popular in a lot of early 2000s music and from 2007 it felt more focused towards specific targets.

Also not to mention how a lot of the songs have themes of like anger against the self, and the frustration of knowing something is wrong with you but you don't know what.

Basically the band grew up I think.

And when you look at it it does sort of follow that pattern of being young, you get angry, you want to yell at the man but you don't really know what the man is and then you learn what the man is and you get angrier about it and want to do something and realise the structures you're stuck in that are holding you back and how they've maybe made you commit harm and you're angry at yourself but you're more angry at the people up top who mislead you and now you're taking names and taking people to task

[sleptwithinthesun]

few things to clarify about the h/ouse m/d t/ourette's au i've started:

c/hase has t/ourette's s/yndrome, and was diagnosed at the age of sixteen. he did not display symptoms in his youth; they developed as a response to stress and just... stuck around. he started ticcing when he was roughly fourteen.

the vast majority of his tics are categorized as simple and complex motor tics. basically, that means that his tics involve one (simple) or more (complex) muscle groups to trigger movement.

however, c/hase also does have vocal tics, which can be simple (usually just a sound) or complex (words or phrases). simple ones are far more common for him.

vocal tics can be loosely separated into verbal or phonic tics. verbal tics involve sound creation from vocal cords; phonic tics are sounds made with the mouth that don't involve vocal cords. examples of both are, respectively, humming and whistling.

c/hase does not have coprolalia or copropraxia, which are the 'cursing tics'. personally, i have both. i didn't want to give them to chase, though, for fear of perpetuating a stereotype.

he does have echolalia/echopraxia (repeating other people's words or actions as a tic), and palilalia/palipraxia (repeating one's own words or actions as a tic).

the previous three types of tics (copro-, echo-, and pali-) mentioned are all complex tics. the suffixes -lalia and -praxia pertain to vocal and motor tics, respectively.

a premonitory urge is the feeling, which is usually described as a building pressure or sense of wrongness in a certain area, that a person may feel before ticcing. it usually makes that person aware of the need to tic, and doesn't go away until the tic is completed. c/hase does experience this, but his premonitory urge builds up quickly, meaning that he's often unaware that he's going to tic until right before he does it. complex vocal tics usually surprise him.

c/hase's experiences and tics are based off my own. as i flesh out the au, specific tics that c/hase has may change. you may take those instances as him losing some tics and gaining some others, or certain tics changing. for example, i used to have a vocal tic that had me sing two notes, but now, i hum it.

my writing is not going to be entirely accurate. i have never written a character with t/ourette's before, and it will take me time to understand how to word my experiences.

i will do my best to remain consistent. if there are issues, please don't point them out. not every tic presents on a daily basis, and severity changes. my tics fluctuate day-to-day. that's how it is.

as a warning, there will be self-harming tics in the future, which involve c/hase hitting or punching himself in some capacity. again, i directly experience this. if you are uncomfortable or feel unsafe, do not read it. trigger warnings will be before the cut.

having t/ourette's does not prevent c/hase from being a doctor. there are certain struggles, yes, but he is perfectly capable of performing his tasks and taking care of patients. if i did not make this very clear in the first fic, here is your reminder.

stories will alternate between snz-focused and t/ourette's-focused. if you just want to read the snz ones and ignore the others, i won't blame you in the slightest. TS is uncomfortable for some people. still, discomfort is healthy. please do not push yourself beyond your boundaries. only read if you feel safe to.

...i think that's it. idk. there's a lot to it, and i haven't even touched on the other symptoms of TS besides tics. i might reblog this later with more information, but i think this is what's necessary to understand going forward. i really appreciate you all letting me write these stories as it means a lot for me to be able to share this. your respect, kindness, and enthusiasm are received well and with appreciation.

[lulusaquariumm]

Do you have any other rules for requests that you haven't already mentioned? Stuff like specific characters, subjects, or readers you will/won't write about? How many characters can we ask about per request? Will we get less headcanons if we ask for more characters? What about nsfw, if you'll do it? Any particular rules or leanings on that? Feel free to mention any thing else. Sorry about the all questions. Just want to make sure before sending anything in. Thanks and have a great day!

Hiii^~^ thank you for asking me!

For specific characters I won’t write for the obvious stuff is characters that are still minors in their universes and some specifics are characters like mori from Bungo stray dogs and characters like him just since I don’t feel comfortable with it but other characters specifically are like dabi/touya, shigaraki, and Kikoru from Kaiju no 8 and I think that’s it off the top of my head

Characters I can write for

All haikyuu characters, all of the mha characters post ts, kaiju no 8 for all of them, and stuff like that with the fandoms I listed on my about me that also has my info and rules^.^

You can ask for as many characters as you’d like but depending on if I feel like I have ideas for them I might not include them due to not wanting to mischaracterize/having not met them yet in that series but it won’t affect how many you’ll receive

Subjects I won’t write for

Anything to do with self harm, scat or piss kinks, and just like overly creepy if it has to do anything with death

I do both nsfw and fluff/angst I don’t have any particular rules on it

Only other thing is if I don’t get to ur ask quick I so also have school most days so it might take a bit <33

[courier-nix]

2/3/7/11/52 for fallout oc asks?? 👀

Coming right up!!!

Super excited someone asked for some!!! Some Dead Money spoilers ahead but not much. Okay so here they are:

2. Which faction(s) did they join and which did they destroy? Why?

So far Nix has joined the Kings and the Followers of the Apocalypse. She loves everything they stand for and wants more people to receive the aid and safety they offer. She also has a growing soft spot for the King that helps. Although she's the NCR's favorite task girl, she was originally going to support Mr. House until she got pulled to the Sierra Madre. Now, she's an independent New Vegas believer, after seeing what rich "well intentioned" men who only care about what they want can do to the world. (She also would not be able to bring herself to kill the BOS despite the fact she doesn't really like them.) She refuses to join the BOS after what happened to Veronica. Nix loves the Boomers and is untrusting of the Strip families and the Great Khans, but can play them like the fiddle when she wants. She hates the Legion and plans to wipe them out with Boone.

3. What is their S.P.E.C.I.A.L.?

S 5

P 6

E 5

C 7

I 7

A 6

L 5

She got the strength implant from Usanagi so she had an easier time holding heavy guns.

7. Do they have any mental illnesses? How do they cope?

The two main things is PTSD and anxiety. For PTSD, it can vary from hearing an alarm go off and she thinks it's her bomb collar, to she gets flash backs to the terrible things she's done that she feels guilty about. Nix's anxiety mostly manifests through abandonment issues and being alone. She doesn't quite understand why she's that way since the shots to the head made her lose a good chunk of memory, but she does know her grandma had to raise her because her parents couldn't. She is an anxious attachment person who MUST be friends with everyone and MUST be liked by everyone otherwise she feels like shit. She's strongly affected by guilt and anxiety.

So this ties in strongly with The Hollow Men by TS Eliot, whose line I stole for the title of my fanfic featuring Nix (Not with a Bang). The poem discusses people affected by war who know that they are broken and lost souls but are unable to do actions to better themselves or the world. Nix is constantly trying not to be a hollow man and is trying to make sure her companions don't end up like one too (especially Boone). But that hollow feeling is persistent and a battle on its own she has to deal with.

The last thing I'll mention is she does get violent outbursts but they're few and far between and they cause her immense guilt and shame after. She doesn't know if she's always been that way or if the shot to the head caused it, which makes her more upset.

11. Their biggest flaw? Do they recognize it as a flaw?

Nix's biggest flaw is self-doubt and indecisiveness. When there is a clear right and wrong answer in Nix's mind, she knows what to pick. Morally grey areas tend to make her indecisive because "what if so-and-so no longer likes me because of this? What if I can't lead like I'm supposed to? Will this cause more harm than good?" Etc. She knows that it's a flaw, but as of now, she doesn't know what to do about it.

The Sierra Madre changes that!!!

She becomes a bit more hardened and decisive after she sees herself doing everything right, but still ending up with Dean dead. (She honestly thought everything went great with him and didn't realize how fragile his ego was.) She learns who she wants to back in the next Battle of the Hoover Dam. At this point, I haven't planned the next arch of her story much, but she does end up more violent and those violent outbursts more common.

52. Are they good at disarming traps or do they constantly miss them?

Oh, she sucked with traps at first. She wouldn't even see them. She'd hear beeping, look for the source, and then get launched. Bear traps were the only ones she could normally notice. Trip wires and landmines she would tend to overlook. Once she got to the Sierra Madre, she started to slow down and pay attention, especially since so many other people needed her to survive. By the time she got into the casino, Nix was a pro at disarming or stepping around traps (some may say she had a light step now lol).

Here's a quick doodle of Nix getting launched and Lily rushing to catch her since you made it all the way through!!!

[lyricalthoughtsies]

Hey! If you find this account, no you didn't.

I'm all seriousness, Hello! I'm a new song writer who uses this blog to keep track of random lyric/title ideas

Just as a quick tw, this blog will contain mentions of eating disorders, self harm and possibly other triggers.

Lyric inspo: #my muse(ic)

Lyric ideas: #line tho(ugh)ts

Title ideas: #song namesies