#the fear of falling apart

[natjennie]

something about "your anger isn't scary to me" is making me so emotional. something about as above so below, cassandra as a mirror of kristen. something about "I've been dropping the ball a lot lately" and kristen's struggles with adhd. something about teenage girls and rage and fury and justice. something about adaine's vision of ruining fallinel and the sylvaire looking for revenge. something about sadness and doubt and anger and love. something about "I choose to understand" being the absolute core theme of d20 in general. something something.

[tiredbogwitch]

Imagine Shen Yuan getting crammed not into Shen Qingqiu's body, but Shang Qinghua's. And the only reason he doesn't get noticed isn't because he's a good actor or manager/peak lord, but because literally no one gives enough of a shit about Shang Qinghua to even know how he usually acts in the first place.

They don't even bat an eye when he tries poaching a Qing Jing student for An Ding, because maybe Shang Qinghua's trying to outsource, y'know? Luo Binghe doesn't seem all that fond of his own shizun, anyway. Shen Yuan-as-SQH is still a "spy" for Mobei-jun, who sees him as a weird little guy but not the kind he's attracted to. (Though everyone else is now having the confusing, baffling discovery that they're lowkey into aforementioned weird little guy. He's suddenly... weirdly attractive???)

Meanwhile, Airplane-Shen Qingqiu largely gets away with not being discovered because he's A) a sneaky little rat bastard (affectionate), and B) the author of the series, and even if he doesn't remember every detail, he definitely remembers the goddamn main villain's backstory and behavior, thank you very much, Shen Yuan.

He is also too busy wondering how he could possibly catch Mobei-jun's eye now that he's not a spy to notice someone trying to abscond with his disciple-son.

That is to say, the chances of them all dying before the Abyss event even takes place is like. 99%.

[disniq]

Oh I misread that last post actually. While Jason's loneliness definitely resonates, I don't think it's self made in the slightest.

If anything he's guilty of reaching out at any cost - originally by using violence and antagonism to force interaction (UTRH and BiB, arguably the titans tower thing), and later by consistently showing up when called no matter how badly he's been treated, doing Bruce's bidding, and being 110% willing to sacrifice himself for the cause in the hopes that it'll finally be enough, even though it never is.

[thechy-fychannel]

y'all ever think abt how it was julie having the affair and it is even said multiple times that she was the one who left him, yet wilson was still the one who left their home and moved in with house. like. he couldn't bear to stay in their home alone. he immediately ran to house and stayed on his couch for weeks. suffered through his pranks and his laziness and his manipulation. telling him he wants him gone while sabotaging his attempts to leave. and he only left once he got a girlfriend again.

[hawnks]

For the first time since your fateful meeting, you're really and truly mad at him.

Of course you know what you want to do is foolish, dangerous. But this is your risk to take. Despite his teasing, Sylus doesn't own you.

He doesn't even look up from his paperwork. "No."

It was a courtesy to tell him why you wouldn't be home tonight. He doesn't get to tell you no.

You give him a chance to rethink it. "Excuse me?"

He turns the page. Makes a note. As if the conversation wasn't even worth his attention. "I'll handle it tomorrow. Just go to bed, sweetheart. I left out a new pair of pajamas for you."

Seething, you steal his bike, leaving the estate with big plans to show him exactly what you think of his high handedness.

That plan doesn't come to fruition, though. Because someone tipped off the mark.

They're waiting for you when you arrive. You're taken down in seconds, a week of careful plotting gone to waste.

Bound and gagged, they leave you alone in the dark. Just waiting for whatever punishment will be mete out. They'll kill you for this. But first they'll hurt you.

It's all you can do, cycle through fear after fear. A rabbit in the snare.

The light of dawn is red as it floods the room and your fate steps through the door.

"We'll have to work on your manners, darling," Sylus tells you. "We don't bite the hand that feeds us."

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 3/?

Wordcount: 2,557 / 7,296

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★ ★ - Also on AO3! - ★

!!! CONTENT WARNING FOR VIVID DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACKS. !!!

...

More than anything you wanted to get away from this human. Your hands finally weaseled their way out of his vice grip as you pushed at his fingers that held down your body. His thumb still pressed across your shoulders painfully as you tried to pry him off. 

“Let GO!-“ 

Ignoring his question you let out a strangled cry, if you weren’t so frantic and lightheaded you might have believed the expression on his face to be pure shock and awe. 

“I'm afraid I can't do that, you'll just take off running and I would like to ask you a few questions,” 

That was the point of being put down you quipped back in your head. Your voice lost among your emotions as you screamed internally, not wanting to give this scientist the satisfaction of a response. Your hands still pushing at his digits that curled uncomfortably around you. It was pathetic really. Being able to be pinned by the simple act of being held. His grip wasnt even all that tight anymore, adding insult to injury. 

The sheer power the human held over you just by existing made you dizzy and nauseous. 

He seemed to be lost in thought as he watched you push and practically claw at his pointer finger. He made no move to pin your hands down again so you assumed you weren't doing much damage to your dismay. 

That damned jar once again was lifted and set on the desk, before you could stop it you felt his hand tilting so your legs faced the opening. 

You tried to stop it by pushing a foot on the rim, but it was no use. All it took was Ford letting go and gravity pulled you down into the glass with a small thud. 

Your injured ankle took the brunt of the force, making you stifle a scream as you landed painfully into the glass. All the while the human just pulled his journal closer and wrote. 

Stumbling on your feet you leaned against the front of the glass, your hands balling into fists as you hit the thick and cold glass. 

“There, now that I'm not holding you does that help?” 

It almost made it worse. Atleast he wasnt picking up the jar and taking you down into his lab. 

He wasnt speaking, keeping his eyes trained on you and your heaving form. You could feel the beads of sweat practically rolling down your face. 

You were stressed. You could feel the buzz of a panic attack under your skin, your fists no longer hitting the glass as you tried to calm your frantic breathing. 

Standing was too much to ask of your body too it seemed as your knees buckled and you fell into the cold floor again. 

You only realized Ford was still speaking to you when you finally looked back up and saw almost a panicked expression on his face. Your ears rang painfully loud as you tried so hard to focus on what he was saying. 

Ultimately it didn't matter because right as you started looking up at him he seemed to panic more. Helpless to stop him you watched as he stood from his desk and you physically recoiled. Half expecting him to pick up the glass and take you down to his lab the moment you stopped being useful. 

He didn't do that though to your surprise. He just left the room. You thought that would calm you down but it didn't, the panic in your chest still raged on. 

The once uncomfortable buzz under your skin had now circled its way to your lungs. Your breathing was labored and frantic, the only comfort coming from the freezing glass walls of your prison as you pressed against it. 

Small droplets of tears glided down your face, leaving an uncomfortable dryness in their wake. You curled up as small as possible, your knees pressing to your chest. 

You had been caught. 

Your fate was sealed. 

He would drop you off at some lab for more testing if he didn't do it himself. He was probably calling someone to get you now. 

Unbeknownst to you at the moment he was making a call, but not a call to any scientist. He was making a call to the most brilliant mechanic he knew for help. 

…

It felt like it took forever for the human to come back. You didn't exactly trust your time perception at this moment though, he could've only been gone for a few minutes for all you knew. 

You stayed curled in your tight ball as you heard him sit back down at his desk. Your body is tense and awaiting him to do something. He was most definitely looking at you, no doubt writing whatever he could into his journal. 

You didn't look at him. Straining your still ringing ears to try to pick up anything that could clue you into what he was doing. 

You could most definitely hear his pen scratching away at a page in his journal. He wasnt speaking to you directly which wasnt as big of a relief as you thought it would be. 

Why did he leave the room? That was your biggest question in all honesty. 

A few more moments of silence passed between the two of you. The only sound was your strained breathing that you doubted the human could hear anyway. 

Your shoulders tensed as his voice was once again reverberating around you. Still in a whisper despite how loud it was regardless. 

“...It didn't seem to have any claws, how would It have survived in the wilderness.. Does it have some sort of venom? No, if it did-” 

…Ah. Muttering to himself. Honestly, the mark of someone who was completely sane was when they mumbled to themselves. 

You screwed your eyes shut as you blocked out what he was saying. Especially when he insisted on referring to you as an ‘it’. 

You were about to yell at him, to tell him to shut up when your ears heard a loud knocking coming from the front door. 

So he had called more scientists after all. 

The creaky wooden chair he sat on squealed against the hardwood floor as he stood. Your hands clamping over your sensitive ears before the panic that had just begun to dissipate picked back up tenfold. 

His hand reached for the jar. 

Denial. 

There was no way he was just going to turn you into the others so quickly. He had only just discovered you. Surely he hadn't taken enough notes yet to be satisfied. 

You reeled backward, your ankle screaming its protests as well as your lungs. The oxygen your brain craves so much is being exhaled much too quickly to be fully processed. 

His hand closed around the Jar. Making your body sway unsteadily as you saw the desk below you rising. The glass flooring heavily disorients you. 

Anger. 

What reasoning did he have to uproot you from your life? You weren't harming anyone. You were being turned into some scientist to experiment on you just for being born. You hadn't asked for this. 

You had just as much control over being born a borrower as he had being born a man. You didn't choose this life. 

Your hands hit against the glass as more tears began to go down your face. Hitting the floor of the jar with a faint clink. 

The human seemed none the wiser to your protests. His other hand going to cover the top of the jar as he swiftly left his room. 

Bargaining. 

Your whole body was shaking. The desperation finally made you find your voice as it cracked. 

“Let me out!- I'll talk!- I can-... I can tell you more! Don't you want answers? I can give answers!-” 

You rambled to yourself through choked sobs. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks. 

The human didn't stop walking to the main room. You both were now at the stairs when he finally acknowledged you. 

“We can all talk in a moment,” 

His voice was smooth as if he was zoned in on one task and one task alone. 

Depression. 

The realization that you couldn't stop him put a new weight on your chest as you fell into the glass wall. Not from your shaky legs surprisingly. The human just wasnt holding the jar with the most care it seemed. 

You tried to put on a brave face as he set your glass prison on the kitchen table. You were back where it all started. 

You should've been more careful that night. He should have never seen you. You should have never moved into this cottage. More than anything you regretted not being able to see your family again. 

You could hear the front door open as a second pair of footsteps joined Ford in the kitchen. 

You prepared yourself for the worst. So when you looked up and met the eyes of his colleague you stilled. 

“...You put them in a JAR?-” 

You hadn't expected that.

Ford seemed shocked at his assistants' outburst. Floundering for an excuse. 

“It was the best option! It didn't want to be held and if I put it down it wouldve-”

You could only imagine how rough you looked based on how the other human's expression softened when you flinched at the humans raising their voices. 

The other scientist Ford invited over had a very thick Southern accent. You never really heard an accent like his unless you counted the shows Ford occasionally played much too loud. 

Thinking back on it this human might have made him watch said shows. 

He took his thin-framed glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. Agitated with his companion. 

“You called sayin’ they looked ill, it's not hard to see exactly why.” 

It clicked in your head now. Ford must've seen your panic as some sort of illness rather than the emotional trauma he was inflincting. 

“I wasnt causing it any harm! It even understands English, do you know how big of a find this is!” 

Ford was trying his hardest to explain his reasoning to Fiddleford. He only wanted answers from the smaller being. Fiddleford put his glasses back on and directly addressed the creature in the jar. 

You watched as he crouched down by the table, causing you to push yourself backward. Pressing against the glass as hard as you possibly could to put distance between the two of you. 

“M’terribly sorry for all this. Do you have a name? Mines Fiddleford. Fiddleford Mcgucket,” 

He didn't reach for the jar, he didn't even get closer to examine you. He just sat still, patiently waiting for you to respond. 

Ford interjected. 

“I already tried talking to it directly, but it gave me no response apart from when we were on the stairs and it was just babbling-” 

“y/n.” 

Both the humans in the room froze at your weak voice. Of course, it was rough and scratchy from your prior sobbing, but they heard it regardless. 

“Thats.. That's my name.” 

You could see the way Fiddlefords mouth pinched into a small smile. Almost one of pride at being able to get a response from you. 

Ford didn't look upset, but he most definitely wasnt pleased at the thought of the creature preferring Fiddleford over him. After all, he had been the one to discover it, it should want to talk to him. 

“Pleased to meet ya, I would offer you a handshake but… Well, I doubt you'd be able to shake more than my pinky” 

His chuckle soothed you slightly. Your chest still felt tight, reminding you of just how terrible you looked probably as you wiped your tears away finally. 

You even caught yourself trying to smile out of politeness before resting your shaking hands in your lap. 

You could see the way Fiddlefords eyebrows pinched together in concern. 

“Do ya need any water? How long have you been in there?” 

“I uh-” 

Neither of the humans heard you as Ford stepped forward again and let out a sigh. 

“I’ve only had it in there for an hour or so, if we let it out it could run.” 

It most definitely felt longer than an hour. Time must’ve been moving faster since you were in such a panic. 

Your body instinctually tensed up as Ford stepped closer. Making Fiddleford finally snap as he stood from his crouch. 

“I need a word with you alone,” 

He didn't even wait for Ford to respond before yanking him by the sleeve out of the room. Leaving you alone once more as you heard the front door slam. 

…

“Ford. Ya can't just trap someone in a jar and expect them to be okay. Mentally and physically speakin’.” 

Ford was being actively chewed out and by his assistant no less. 

He crossed his arms across his chest defensively. His hands tightened on his forearms. 

“I never hurt it! I only asked it a few questions, even the Gnome was calmer than it!” 

“The Gnome was an entirely different situation! You asked him if he wanted to come with you! You just found this… What did you call them?” 

“Parva persona.” 

Fiddleford ran a hand through his hair before reaching into his jacket and pulling out his tobacco. Ignoring the way Ford groaned to himself as the mechanic put a bit in his lip. 

“Whatever. Not their name anyway. And while yer’ at it quit callin’ them an it. It's dehumanizing.” 

Ford unfolded his hands and threw them in the air before gripping the railing of his porch. 

“Exactly my point Fiddleford! They’re not human! It's abnormal! By all rules of science, it shouldn't even be possible for something as small as it to exist!” 

Fiddleford spit a bit of his chewing tobacco off the porch before slowly getting more agitated with his partner. He could be so smart but so dumb most of the time. 

“What makes something deserving of basic decency Ford? Because ill tell ya’, its normally when they look human but smaller and can speak English. I think you even treated the Gnome with more dignity! You didn't trap him in a jar!” 

Ford didn't quip back saying he did put the gnome in a cage after questioning it for a few days to research it. He just sighed and looked off into the woods. 

“...I just don't want my discovery to run off if we let it out. If it runs I don't think ill get another opportunity for answers.” 

“Why not just talk to them? M’sure you could get them to hang around, you’d just have to accept getting answers slowly. An while yer at it stop puttin’ em in jars.” 

…That might work. If Ford could make some sort of connection with it he could get more answers than just interrogating it in the jar. Ford could see the look in his eyes and before he could stop it the other man was already going back into the cottage. 

With a heavy groan, Fiddleford spat out the last of his tobacco off the porch into the grass before following him. 

He had a feeling this would be a long night with no sleep. For both him and the creature in the jar.

. . .

TAGLIST: @i-am-tiredd

Thank you so much for reading!! More updates soon :)

[howlsofbloodhounds]

do yall think when color was fresh out the Void he’d have a panic attack or a meltdown if he tried to take a shower too quickly (and alone) due to the overwhelming painful sights, sensations, and sounds (especially if it hits his broken skull and it hurts and he worries his flames will extinguish and his skull will finally finish cracking) but he also puts himself through it sometimes when it’s too quiet and still

did he have a fear of the shower for awhile

did delta and/or epic have to sit outside the shower on the floor or cabinet for color to even go near it himself because color couldn’t even stand being physically touched for too long without breaking down even if he also was crying tears of relief and joy

[dindjarindiaries]

When It Rains, It Pours

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “Just breathe, it’ll be over soon.” and “I’m sorry—.” “No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

"Cyar'ika?"

Din's voice draws you out of your slumber. Once you gather your bearings, you smile at the sight of Din's face and raise a hand to hold his cheek. "Hey."

Your thumb brushes just under his eye, and in doing so, you notice the lack of a sparkle in his dark gaze. The shaking of his hand that's still on your shoulder tells a frightening story. The concern drips into your tone as you give him a quick once-over.

"Hey." You hold his face with both hands, one of your thumbs lowering to run over his trembling lips. "What is it?"

Din's gaze averts yours. Instead, he turns his attention to the viewport on the opposite side of your room. His voice is quiet when he answers. "There's a storm."

You take a moment to listen for it. Sure enough, the rain is pounding onto the roof above your heads, and a distant roll of thunder makes Din's grip on your shoulder tighten for a moment. This is a rare occurrence for Nevarro, and for Din, it's a frightening one. You try to win back his gaze with another brush of your thumb over his lips. "Are you okay?"

Din hesitates, the breath he holds visible in the stalling of his scarred chest. When his gaze meets yours, his honesty wins out, and he gives his head a small shake. Your chest aches with the way your heart's shattered.

You don't need an explanation from him, nor would you ever ask for one. Thunder can sound like explosions, and explosions can bring Din back to many traumatic moments—but mostly the one that terrifies his inner child.

"Here, let's get some lights on." You sit up in the bed and lean over to the table on your side, pressing the button that activates the warm lamps throughout the room. Din's since taken a hold of one of your hands between his and you let him keep it there. "How about some tea?"

Din nods and watches as his thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "Yeah."

You smile at him. "Great." You take your hand from him only to make your way out of the bed. Din's tunic on your figure has already made you decent as you walk around the bed to his side. You take him by the hand to lead him out into the living area of your cabin. "I just picked up a new blend from the bazaar."

"That sounds—," Din starts, cutting himself short when a particularly loud roll of thunder interrupts him. He squeezes your hand and forces himself to take a deep breath. "Great. That sounds great."

You smile at his bravery as you begin to heat the water and set out two cups for each of you. "And you know what?" Once everything's set out, you turn back to Din and wrap your arms around his neck. He steadies himself with his hands on your waist. "I think you're doing great."

You urge him to lower his head to your shoulder, getting a quick kiss in on his cheek before he does so. When there's another crash of thunder, one that makes the cabin shake, Din pulls you tight enough against himself to make you lose your breath for a moment. He loosens the grasp, but still keeps it tighter than before.

"Just breathe," you say, your voice a soft and sweet breath. Your cheek presses against the side of his head as you run your hand over his back. "It'll be over soon."

After a long moment of silence, Din speaks up, his voice muffled by the tunic on your shoulder. "I was a child," he reflects. "You would think I could deal with this, now."

You lift his face from your shoulder to hold it between his hands, making him face you and the comfort of your gaze. "If only it were that easy." You smile and run your knuckles along his cheek, tracing the fading outline of a scar from many years ago on this same planet. "You're already a hero, Din. You don't have to keep proving that."

Din's face starts to flush as he looks down in shyness. "Thank you." His brow wrinkles when he gains the faith to search your gaze again. "I know I woke you up. I'm sorry—."

"No, don't be sorry." Your hand runs through the hair at the side of his head. "It's not your fault." You shake your head at him. "You can't help it."

Din looks as if he's preparing to argue, but the sound of the water boiling from behind you stops him. You step away from Din to remove it from heat and fill your cups with the prepped tea spices. Once you've handed Din yours, you hop up onto the counter and hold yours between your hands.

"Now, we have a few options," you present to him. Din makes room for himself between your knees, his hips resting against the edge of the counter as he raises an eyebrow at you. "We can sit here and drink our tea in silence if that's what'll help you, or I can talk you through it." You brush a piece of hair out of Din's face. "Or... once we're done with our tea..." your thumb finds his lips once again, "I can kiss you back to sleep."

Din chuckles and dares to lift the steaming cup of tea towards his lips. "The latter two options sound very enticing."

You smile as he sips from his cup and lets his brow loosen in relaxation. "Yeah?"

Din reaches up to make your forehead meet his own. "Yeah." He takes a deep breath and manages a genuine smile for you. "Thank you, cyar'ika."

You brush your fingers along his untrimmed chin. "You never have to thank me, Din." You draw him closer until you taste the new tea blend from him, an exchange of trust, love, and comfort that goes beyond words.

[bailong009]

⣀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀ ⡿⠀⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⡇ ⢣⠀⠀⠈⠲⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠊⠀⠀⢠⠇ ⡬⠧⠄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠐⠀⠠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠐⠐⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠠⠯⡄ ⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡⠀⠀⠰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠃ ⠈⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠜⠀ ⠀⠈⠒⠠⣤⠄⠀⡀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠈⠳⢄⠀⠀⡀⠀⢠⡤⠐⠊⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠁⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠉⠈⠀⠀ saku mb & more bios i fear .....

ᨳິ♡ദິ sakuyaka 토끼 𝒜dventure ·̣̩̣͙̣ °̩̥ ◌ flip phone 2𝒪𝒪5 #HIT_MY_LINE

♡ ˚̩̩̥͙ #예쁜 비즈와 sticker ⭐가득한 phone ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

첨 맛보는 jelly pop ˚ ༘ 🫧𖦹⋆｡˚ 왜 이런 걸까 나도 잘 몰라 어서, 일어나, you wake up

me whn i say blehhhhhhhhh they 𝄞 he 🎹 𝄞 :°°°3 ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ ✲ … ꒰ঌ(˶ˆᗜˆ˵)໒꒱

🍧 my feeligs gettin deepr >p< ,, 내 심박수를 믿어

[allpiesforourown]

Slutty as fuck for shen yuan to be born into a rich family . Why did you do that huh?? So I can call you a rich little princess?? So I can bully you, and be the first person to leave marks on your smooth and sheltered skin??? So you can afford hotel rooms and wear expensive lingerie waiting on the bed for me?? I bet he's the type of mf who gets horny if you call him young master or some shit. I know what you are

[itskaist]

What is Josiah’s relationship towards his regene tattoos?

Thank you once again for asking! <333 Getting any asks about Josiah always makes my day! Took me a moment to reply because uhhh- [wilhelm scream], but I hope it also gave me the time to ponder some more on this topic.

Under cut as always, though not as long as before. Instead, got… weirder? Question mark?

(tw self-harm, and other Sidestep-typical dissociative issues)

Oh God. He hates them. Burns on his skin, bondage, fish suffocated in plastic. Of course, the most basic reason being that they make it hard to hide, the paranoia seeping in any time there was a rupture in his Sidestep suit. Wearing layers in the Los Diablos heat, too, unbearable. But most of all, the personal - the inhumanity marking him, staining him, can't wash it off, can't cut it out, just like he can't excise his own past. His own nature. The tattoos are a symbol of that, the final leash, a reminder that no matter how far he might run, how thouroughly he might try to remake himself, he will always be a sad little tool in the toolbox. Still cowering in the corner of his cell.

He just can't look at himself. Can't. He will brave it when he needs to, when he needs to sew himself up, but otherwise? Showering in the dark, though to him the tattoos might as well be bioluminescent. An anglerfish. Get close, get bit. Mirrors smashed on a bad day, then covered up in curtains or tape. Can't be bothered to replace them. Shaving in fractured reflections, a thousand funhouse faces. Can't look at his own face, no, no. Having a body at all, a body they made, they groomed, being touched, prodded, examined, evaluated, a racing horse. Gets lame, gets shot. …Proud of every single scar, though, marring their prize pet. Self-harm. Them-harm. A disconnect between the body and mind, body was theirs, I am my thought, I think therefore I am, therefore, therefore, by cutting the body, I am harming them, not myself. Blood down the drain.

The tattoos are an easy scapegoat, too. A convenient excuse. Couldn't get closer to Ortega, no, never, because you could never show skin, and this is what he would want, right? What normal people want. What People want. Not-People don't show skin and he'll either get bored with you and drop you, or get suspicious and drop you. Down, down, down the drain. A solid self-hate spiral, if you dare say so yourself.

Hates seeing his own face in the mirror. Wrong. Boney. Bones… wrong. Set and reset. Can't reset a face. Only, hah, you can. A prettier one. More familiar than this. No need to shave, no scratch, no itch, itch right under your skin that you can never reach. No, no burn; soft, pliant, yielding. Clay in your hands. More... malleable. A remaking, a rebirth. A breath. A step. Steadier legs, standing steady on the ground, no bones set and reset, too long, too tall, standing out. Being seen at last and not hating it. What a novelty. Could you ever do it? …No. Of course not. Only way for you to have is to pretend at pretending at pretending.

Replica of a replica of a replica.

You're Hollow Ground's younger sibling, he says.

Why couldn't it have been you? Why never YOU?

Show him. Show him the truth. Make him curl up in disgust the same way you do, every morning, every evening, every forsaken fucking minute of your sorry life. A burden shared is burden lessened, isn't it, Dr. Finch?

. .. …

…Being seen at last and not hating it. What a novelty indeed.

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 1/?

Wordcount: 2,057

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★

★ - Also on AO3! - ★

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58879087/chapters/150070549

The cottage you moved into was poorly constructed and had many openings to various rooms because of the peeling wallpaper. It was partially why you chose to reside there after many weeks of venturing the forest once your parents kicked you out. 

You lived with your parents in a tree until they decided it was time for you to make your way in this world. Oh, how you could imagine the looks on their faces if you told them the mess you got yourself into this time. 

Your family chose the safety of trees and burrows rather than living in the walls of creatures that could kill you without so much as a flick of a wrist. 

You wouldn't call yourself one for adventure, quite the opposite. Humans terrified you to your very core. You’ve been a first-hand witness to what they are capable of. When the cottage was in the process of being built you watched many trees torn and splintered by their impossibly large machines. 

You rather despised humans. What you didn't despise however was routine and having access to food much easier than foraging. 

Life in the cottage was relatively peaceful, it was about as peaceful as you could get for being only a few inches tall. You swore your species was doomed to fail if it wasnt for humans influence. 

The scientist who lived in the cottage was paranoid, that much was obvious. Even when you first moved in after being kicked out he stayed up much too late and consumed too much coffee to be considered sane. You brushed it off because, after a few days of scoping out the walls of the cottage, you realized he had a very precise schedule that made borrowing easy. 

He would wake up early, and go to bed late. Usually uttering to himself before going down into his basement to do who knew what. It gave you a lot of time to yourself, and a human with a predictable schedule was hard to come by. Most had kids or animals, both very dangerous to someone like yourself. Fortunately, this human only seemed to have one friend who came around periodically, but they stayed downstairs. 

You had noticed that night you were running low on thread and crackers, and the human was in his basement. Of course, night turned into day much quicker than you predicted. 

The shock and horror of hearing the vending machine door open while you were in the middle of climbing up into his shelf literally by a thread still shuddered through your body even now. 

…So what if you screamed and ran off despite him shouting for you? So what if you have to move homes? It didn't even matter much to you that when you let go of the thread you landed on your foot and wrist wrong. 

The faint memory of his hand reaching for you did rattle you to your core, despite how much you insisted you could escape him even if he did grab you. 

The way his eyes bared into your very soul, the way even his shadow in the early dawn lighting engulfed your entire body. Your shaking hands as you pried the loose wood plank off the wall just as you could feel his body heat emitting from his hand radiating on your back. 

… 

 …You push the memories away lest you give yourself another panic attack. You tried to not let it bother you much, though you would miss the plentiful amounts of jellybeans and other snacks he kept on the shelves. 

No. What bothered you the MOST was the fact every little detail, every little move you made before you ran off into the wall, was now being documented. 

You looked down from the crack in the wall with a grimace. There was a foul taste in your mouth as you saw the human below taking vivid and rigorous notes while sitting at the kitchen table. His pen scratched the page so hard you believed it would rip. 

The red journal he carried with him was the bane of your existence. If any information about you or your species was going to become mainstream, it would doom your life as you knew it. Not to mention shatter any dreams you had of a normal life. 

You weren't in any position to do anything about it yet. The effects of the adrenaline pumping through your veins were slowly ebbing away. Leaving a dull ache in your head and a nasty sprain on your wrist and ankle. 

With a sigh, you pushed off the wall and made the long trek back to your room. Deciding that before leaving, you had to get rid of the page in his journal. He had to leave it unguarded at some point. 

Your room in the walls wasnt much, but you spent a lot of time working on it. You hollowed out a space inbetween a few support beams and insulation and put a few pieces of cloth on the walls. 

The pin cushion you called a bed practically screamed your name as you pushed your makeshift cloth ‘door’ open. You broke off a piece of a cracker you swiped a few days prior and shoveled it into your mouth before collapsing on the bed. 

Getting that journal was your only hope. Ignoring the chalky residue left in your mouth by the dry cracker sleep soon found you. 

… 

That man did not leave his journal for one moment. 

It's been two days since your last encounter with the human. You tried so hard to stay patient in the walls and bide your time until you could get ahold of the cursed page, but your rations were running short. 

So you threw on your satchel and stabbed a needle in your pants just in case he was out. You used to not carry it, but you weren't taking any chances. 

Pressing your hands to your eyes you tried to gather courage as you walked in the dark pathways of the walls. You tried not to think about what would happen if you were caught by the scientist. 

You’ve seen him take creatures like yourself down in his basement, and they never come back up. 

Despite this, you still for whatever reason chose to stay. You wished you never stayed. More than anything you wished you had just found a nice, abandoned burrow like your cousin had, and stayed in the woods. 

In your frustration you kicked a piece of rock, it hit a nearby pipe with a satisfying twang. 

There were more predators in the woods but atleast they would just kill you. There was no telling what the human would do if he caught you. 

Taking a deep breath you consoled yourself, if you played your cards right and stayed out of sight this would turn out like it usually did. 

You would take a few crackers and leave, that's all you had to do. 

As you pressed your hands against the wall and shakily pushed, you felt the loose wood disconnect with a satisfying crack while you poked your head out.

You squinted as the bright light from the kitchen flooded into the wall and onto your face.  

Everything seemed completely normal, which should have relaxed you, but it merely put you more on edge. 

This human wasnt normal. There was no reason everything on the countertop was tidied away. He usually left dishes in the sink, and from where you stood you saw none. 

You where about to slink back into the wall and go out a different time before you heard his voice. 

“...It was bipedal!- have you ever-” 

You were quick to pull yourself back into the wall, your hand slipping on the wood and giving yourself a splinter. You sucked in a breath and held your yelp as you heard footsteps coming closer. 

“I know, you haven't stopped talking about it for three hours..” 

The other human's voice sounded southern, you recognized it as the main resident's friend, or ‘associate’ he sometimes said. 

You could hear them picking up various glasses and cups, if you had to guess the humans were probably making more coffee. Your hypothesis was only confirmed as you heard the cursed machine whirr to a start. 

You finally let out the breath you were holding as you felt the splinter that now lodged itself in your palm. Wincing as you continued to listen. 

“I know, I just wish I was able to capture it! I could put a more accurate sketch, what if its the only one of its kind?” 

Predictable as always. 

“Ford, I'm sure you already went scarin’ the thing half to death. I wouldn't be shocked if it left,” 

Ford. The scientist was named Ford. As you picked at the splinter you internally berated the name, yours wasnt much better but atleast your parents loved you enough to not name you Ford. 

…Maybe you where being a bit mean. 

“I doubt it, more than likely I can catch it again early morning. It seemed shocked I was there, it more than likely has a schedule it keeps to.” 

Or maybe you weren't mean enough. Seriously who did this guy think he was? You had half a mind to march out of the wall and stab his stupid hand.

You didn't bother listening to the rest of their conversation, too preoccupied with picking at the splinter. Trying to pull it out with little to no light proved itself to be difficult. 

You could head back to your room, but the string lights in there had limited battery, and you tried to save it for only special occasions. 

To your relief, the pair left a few minutes later. Only when you heard the vending machine door clunk shut did you press against the wood plank. 

Using the small sliver of light provided you pulled the splinter out with your nails, flicking it away before turning and looking at the counter. 

…He left a dish. 

A dish in front of where he last saw you. A dish full of various snacks, ranging from two jellybeans to crackers and cheese. 

You weren't some domesticated house pet. You scowled at the dish as if it had personally scalded you before walking past it. 

You walked quietly despite there being no reason to. Wishing you had your fish hook and thread to get up on the higher shelf. 

You could manage without it though. You only made it a few months prior so you were skilled enough to find some scraps on the counter usually. 

To your dismay, though he seemed to have done a thorough cleaning, and without your hook you had no way to reach the shelves above to gather your food. 

You pressed on and walked over to the sink, careful to balance on the edge. You looked at the faucet and walked over to the handle. Gently and carefully push it just a smidge before taking out a small thimble you used for water. 

After drinking your fill and putting the thimble away, you turned the water off. 

…Not fully though, he could deal with a leaky faucet for a few hours. 

You where going to go back empty-handed until your stomach growled looking at the crackers he left out. 

Surely taking one wouldn't hurt, if you left a message. 

You picked up one and stuffed it into your bag, contemplating taking a jellybean but deciding against it. Right before you went into the wall you kicked the dish off of the counter. Shattering on the floor with a satisfying clatter. 

Snickering to yourself you slinked off into the walls. You’d check back on the human that night to see if he left his journal on his desk this time. 

… 

A few hours later Ford had finally gotten to a stopping point with his research. Thoughts of the little creature in his walls beckoned at his mind as he rode the elevator up. 

He sent Fiddleford home with a goodnight before practically sprinting into the kitchen, seeing the mess left by the mischievous thing. 

One thing on the counter caught his eye in particular. 

As he picked it up he examined it thoroughly. 

A small splinter of wood, ever so slightly tinged at the edge with red. 

“...Fascinating..” 

---

Thank you for reading!! Ill more than likely be updating this when i can, but be assured Chapter 2 is already being written with plans for three others!

Hope you Enjoyed!! My Askbox is always open if you want to hear me ramble more about borrowers! V●ᴥ●V

[lululeighsworld]

You'll leave at dawn. Understood?

Black Butler -Emerald Witch Arc- Chapter 89 and Episode 2

(cleaned Wolfram panel from here)

[bonefall]

this is a bit of a random question, but is there any character you dislike, that you havent talked about before?

I feel like I'm pretty outspoken about characters I dislike! Plus, for as hard as I hit my usual suspects, my distaste for them comes from how much I yearn for a version where it was all on purpose.

Like me and my eternal rival, Bramblestar. Im locked in combat with this man, in a cosmic sense. If I were a necromancer I would resurrect his wretched corpse because I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing his face again. Nemesis...

I guess I haven't spoken much about the absolute trainwrecks that were Sharp Hail and Jackdaw's Cry, from DOTC. They're such small characters that there's not much TO talk about

But it's SUPER fucked up that they just dropped Jackdaw's Cry implying Thunder was "stealing milk" from his wife and never mentioned it again. What the hell was the point of THAT when you're only going to stress how sad it is that he died fighting the sister he hadn't spoken about in like 2 books?

And Sharp Hail is an abusive stepdad who falls out of the sky to throttle Sun Shadow in a bonus chapter. WHY? What is the POINT of all these sudden adoption jabs??

Them aside I've spoken about the cats I dislike. Thistleclaw, Sandgorse (complicated), Sagewhisker, Raggedstar, Clear Sky, Gray Wing... and arcs that were a massive disappointment, with Leopardstar, Hawkfrost, Blackstar, Wind Runner, Thunder, even Firestar post-Darkest Hour.

OH Mudclaw I guess. I think he was a fine character but Mudclaw stans are so annoying I've begun to start actually hating him. It's only partially the writing/character's fault, I'm just developing a Pavlovian distaste of him lmaooo

[mazojo]

Of all the languages Meme could speak and she chose the truth