#this will be the only chance ill have to live on my own bc i cant afford to keep going to school here

[elytrafemme]

(kinda gets 18+ in tags srry. i never know how/where to talk abt it) and honestly it's never like i can pull up and talk about like, emotional abuse either. or like atmospheric triggers and shit. because talking about any of that is hard. but it's specifically fucking impossible to ever talk about sexual trauma to anybody ever, which is fucked because like... i'm trying and i'm doing good at it, i'm proud of myself, but it's so like. idk. when something dominates your entire life for an incredible critical five years of your life and entirely transforms how you approach anything it's like... i don't actually know how to express any of this at all. and i guess it's sometimes hard for people to get it. i dunno.

[oars]

after this year im gonna be broke! and i have no skills and im stupid! im cooked its over!!

[snekdood]

i understand its sensitive. i understand you got other problems in your life. but when its so easy to just *not* do something, when it hardly takes away from your life besides not pleasing your every sensibility? what the fuck is the restraint for

[iwontstopme]

i am 👏 👏 👏 sick

[omgahgase]

nsfw charthur fic - wolf shifter!arthur

i was reading through some old wips for other fandoms and i decided to take a small thing from twt and turn it into a charthur thing bc i'm mentally ill over them. i was also driven to post this by some users who helped me realize that i can post what i want bc what i create is for me. so, thank you. you have beaten away my apprehension with a stick, and now i am DOING THE DANG THING! i'll most likely post this to ao3 after i find an appropriate title that isn't 'charles taking monster cock'

nsfw charthur fic under the cut. content warnings include: monster fucking, knotting, size difference, a dash of mpreg (but not really), and some sweet fluff to top it all off

Fur sprouts along the length of Arthur’s spine, from his nape down to the small of his back, along his arms and his legs and around his jaw. It spreads like moss on a tree, gathering into handfuls and giving Charles something to hold onto, soft like the down from the underside of a duck, sandy brown like the dirt in Flat Iron Lake. Charles grips the hair between his fingers and fits his face into the hot, stuffy section of Arthur's furry neck as he moans a desperate, fervent sound.

Arthur's cock grows three times its size, the thick girth of his length stretching Charles to a startling point, but his strangled cry isn't out of pain more so than surprise. Charles muffles a desperate mewl of a sound into Arthur's neck, humps up into his belly to ease the ache in his ass, smearing wet and sticky across Arthur's hairy lower belly.

Arthur’s fangs start to take shape too, elongating into razor-sharp incisors that could rip Charles’ throat out, but instead, he bares them and grunts, curls his upper lip into a snarl when Charles adjusts and Arthur sinks in deeper. As he shifts, his eyes change from sky blue to a dull grey then, finally, when Charles removes his face from Arthur's shoulder, a striking, stark white, nearly engulfed by his pupils.

He grows, too. Arthur's frame broadens until he towers over Charles, thick and strong, his back hunched like a predator moments away from devouring its prey. His hands and feet lengthen, extending black, blade-like claws from his nails, and, momentarily, something sharp shoots beneath Charles’ chest. When Arthur shifts, his claws leave the most damage. Their last sleeping pad was shredded to unsalvageable repair, but, thankfully, they're not in their tent tonight, so Charles' worry is short-lived.

He knew Arthur needed a night to unwind, to change away from the overbearing hands of camp, and away from Dutch and his endless list of errands he rattles off to Arthur whenever he gets the chance. The gang knows how Arthur gets when he's not allowed to run free after a stressful few days of hunting and taking odd jobs to earn a few measly dollars, of scamming people into pennies and robbing lonesome stagecoaches in the dark of night. Seeing it fit, Charles took it upon himself to do something for him this time to make up for all the things he does for camp. For all the good Arthur does for Charles.

That’s how they found themselves here, a few miles away from camp, in their own secluded piece of wild where Arthur pounced on him mere moments after they dismounted their horses. He pushed Charles onto his back over a soft bed of grass, divested both of them of their clothes, and licked into Charles with an intensity that he’d be able to feel for days. It took only seconds for Arthur to slip inside his lover and let the animal out of the cage, to hand himself over to that other part of him that he tries so desperately to tamper down.

It took time for Arthur to tell him, and it took even longer for Arthur to show him, but now that they're far past the gentle touches and first times, neither of them really cares where this sort of thing takes them.

"Cowboy," Charles calls out around a scream. He tightens his grip on Arthur's shoulders and squeezes thick thighs around his furry middle as a tidal wave of pleasure pulls him beneath the surface until his lungs burn. Arthur picks up pace, then, fucks into him with intent as Charles scrambles for any sort of coherence that goes beyond his cries of, "Yes, that's it, baby! Oh, Arthur!"

It’s not until Charles feels the fat swell of Arthur's knot kissing his entrance does he finally say 'fuck it' and starts babbling, slurring mush mouth words and pleas of Arthur's name.

Arthur whines deep in his chest as he rises to his hunches, his glowing eyes rooted to the large bulge protruding from Charles' stomach, the mound moving as he grinds his hips against the soaking wet valley of Charles' thighs. Charles’ cock bounces between them, untouched and weeping. Pearly white beads at his dark tip, shining in the moonlight seeping through the trees above. Arthur watches, growling, as he takes Charles in his hand and pumps, the entirety of his palm engulfing Charles until only his head peeks over Arthur’s fist. Charles is by no means small, but just the sight of his cock disappearing beneath Arthur’s large hand is enough to make him throw his head back, his back jackknifing off the ground. He squeezes around Arthur’s length and moans a broken sound into the cool air that has Arthur placing a soothing hand on his waist.

"Charles—darlin'. You’re doin' amazin',” he praises, wonderstruck. “You look so pretty like this."

Arthur speaks from within, raspy and throaty, the voice of the ancients. It's echoey and old as if thousands of people are speaking at the same time, all collectively using their voices to create a rumble so intense Charles can feel it in his throat, in his cock, and where he and Arthur are joined.

And when Arthur comes, his knot fits into Charles so easily. He stuffs Charles until he's pumped full and Arthur knows Charles is tight around him, firm and secure.

"You're gonna carry my pups," Arthur rumbles, his fangs dangerously close to Charles' neck. "Gonna get you pregnant, Charles. My Charles. My, big, strong, beautiful Charles.” 

Arthur punctuates his words with a sharp snap of his hips, his clawed hand spreading wide over the expanse of Charles' stomach, over the bulging skin like he's trying to will his words true.

It’s impossible, and both of them know that, but Charles still lets Arthur take him, mumbling dirty promises into his ear like an oath he plans to keep. Charles feels warmth shoot into him, tepid and slick, and he takes it all, winding his arms tight around Arthur's wide shoulders and threading trembling hands through dark fur. He tries in vain to pull him in tighter when they're both already pressed so close together as if he wants to fuse them together entirely.

All it takes is for a fanged tooth to press down on Charles' neck, grazing his tendon for him to come, too, spurting white and sticky up his swollen stomach, his heaving chest. Arthur swoops down to lap at the come spread over Charles' flushed skin, collecting it in his mouth and kissing Charles with fervor.

He doesn't let up until Charles swallows.

And when Arthur's done and he's slowly shifting back, his sanity now under control, he kisses Charles slowly, with a ferocity that's near breathtaking—like he's trying to drink Charles' entire essence, consuming his heart and soul that Charles has already so graciously given to him.

Arthur's knot is still snuggly nestled inside his lover, now smaller than before but continuing its job it was made to do. Charles whimpers a weak, spent mumble of a sound, over-sensitive and tender all over as he moves, getting used to the feeling of the thick sloshing in his lower half. It should be disgusting, the state of himself, but Charles cherishes these shared moments because it’s with Arthur. It’s been years and he still wonders, out of all the people Arthur could’ve chosen, women and men included throwing themselves at him in every town, a creature of the night or not, how he still chose Charles.

And no matter how many times Arthur tells him that—that he's Arthur’s person—Charles will still gawk in disbelief because he'll never understand how he managed to tame someone like him, a man more wild than the wild itself.

Arthur moves atop him, his face now back to normal, no more fur, no more fangs. His eyes are still glowing bright blue, a sign that his knot isn't going down any time soon, so they might as well get comfortable. Charles combs his hands through Arthur's hair, and scratches at the spot behind his ear that sends tingles over his scalp. Arthur bucks his hips on reflex, making Charles cry out, and then he immediately stills, eyes wide.

"Sorry," he mumbles, voice thick.

"Don't be," Charles assures. "You know I can handle it ."

Arthur shakes his head, unconvinced. "I'm hurtin’ you."

"I never tell you to stop," Charles counters, using the remaining strength in his tired body to give Arthur a look.

Arthur ignores him and props himself up on strong arms, eyes roaming over the red lines along Charles' thighs and hips, the raised draw of skin clearly visible in the moonlight. Where the scratches turn angry and crimson, small dollops of warm blood seep out into the brisk breeze, gliding along the length of Charles' wounds. His bite marks aren’t the worst of it, but Arthur still treats them as such, eyes lingering on the teeth-sharp shapes of Arthur’s bite and fangs. 

Arthur's expression turns solemn when he takes a gentle hand and trails a finger across the purpling splotches decorating Charles' body, the marks that will bloom into full bruises by morning.

Charles, not liking the flash of guilt taking root in his lover's eyes, grabs Arthur's face in his warm palms and pulls him down for a kiss.

"I'm fine," Charles says, his tone soft, like how it always is when he gets like this. "You could never hurt me."

“You’re always sayin’ that, but look at ya. You looked like you were mauled.” 

“Because I was,” Charles agrees, easily, because why deny the truth? Charles isn’t a liar, and he’s not going to start acting like one to make Arthur feel better. Arthur needs to know that Charles can handle anything he throws at him, bites, scratches, wounds, and all. 

Charles said he loved him, all parts of him. The good, the bad. The wolf. When Arthur shifted in front of him for the first time, Charles wasn’t scared, nor was he surprised to know that every version of Arthur was beautiful, fur and fangs included. Charles understands that he would do just about anything for Arthur, and that includes braving a few hours of being fucked stupid by a creature in the stories his mom used to tell him to get Charles to behave. Charles never complains, because he never finds an issue with it. Because there isn’t an issue. 

Charles brushes their noses together, swoops in for a second kiss, and bites back a smile when he feels Arthur’s breath stutter. “I’d let you eat me whole if you asked.” 

“I’d never ask that, ever,” Arthur says, serious and weighty as if he thinks Charles is ready to offer himself on a silver platter. 

(He is, but Charles thinks Arthur already knows that.) 

“But if you do, then the answer is yes. It’s always yes.” 

“You’re so strange,” Arthur snorts. “Who’d willingly give themselves to a wolf?” 

Charles thinks about it, then, “Abigail.”  

Arthur chuckles and ducks his head into the cozy spot between Charles’ neck and shoulder. He kisses at the bite marks littering his skin as he says, “That don’t count. She’s crazy.” 

“If she’s crazy enough to be with John, then I’m crazy enough to be with you.” 

Arthur laughs this time, hearty and full and so him that Charles finds himself laughing too, smiling into the soft spot behind Arthur’s ear. He kisses at the birthmark just below his hairline, relishes in the shiver shooting down Arthur’s spine. 

“Try again, darlin’. You ain’t any more crazy than you are foolish.” 

Charles makes a show of thinking over his answer, making Arthur roll his eyes and prop himself atop folded hands over Charles’ chest, looking at him like a curious puppy. 

“Someone who cares about you,” Charles finally says, earnestly, like he’s confessing all over again, but this time with actual words instead of just twisting a fist in Arthur’s handkerchief and planting one on him after a shoot-out. 

Arthur smiles, fitting the shape of his mouth over the indents of his fangs on Charles’ body with gentle lips. “So your way of carin’ for me is lettin’ me eat you?” 

“No,” Charles says, shaking his head and trailing kiss-bitten lips along the rough scruff of Arthrur’s jaw, “it’s giving myself over to you if you asked. But,” he shrugs, “I’ve already done that.” 

“I didn’t ask,” Arthur says it like it’s a wonder and not a true fact. 

“You didn’t need to. I wanted to. I’d give you anything if it means you’ll stay with me.” 

“Now that, Mr. Smith, is a foolish thing to say,” Arthur huffs. “I’d be with you regardless. You don’t gotta give me anythin’. It’s my choice, bein’ with you. There ain’t ever gonna be another person out there for me. And even if there was, they ain’t you.” 

Charles, feeling as if something inside his chest exploded into a supernova, bites back an overwhelming sob and surges forward to kiss him again. They both hum, moving their hands over waists and achy muscles to cup each other’s faces like they think the other might disappear if they didn’t hold on. 

But they won’t. Neither of them will because this is the type of thing that leads them here: loving each other in ways neither really understands but they both accept. They love and they question but most of all, they know that they both want to stay together. For as long the lives they live will allow it. 

“There isn’t anyone out there like you either,” Charles marvels when they separate, watching as Arthur’s bright blue eyes change from striking to something softer, something more delicate than what a man like him would think he’s capable of. “I’d choose you every time. In every life I’ll ever live.” 

Arthur sighs and fits himself cozy between Charles’ thighs and atop his chest. “You think that’s possible?” 

“Yes,” Charles answers because he’s not a liar like that. “Would you still choose me?” 

“Don’t be actin’ dumb now, Charles,” Arthur jokes. “You’re too smart for that.” 

Charles grins into the sharp line of Arthur’s jaw, feeling his lover’s smile stretch wide over his face. 

“If you wanna make me stop, you could always just marry me.” 

Arthur laughs. He laughs and shakes and snorts an ugly, goofy sound into Charles’ chest, his hair a rat’s nest tangle and cheeks flushed to the yards, and Charles thinks he’s never looked more handsome than he does right now. 

“I will not take that as a proposal, not when I’m still inside ya and we’re buck naked in the woods.” 

“But someday?” Charles asks, hopeful in a way he has no control over when they live the lives they have. It’s a silly, foolish little dream that he thinks about more than he wants to admit, and has only voiced a handful of times over the years they’ve been together. It’s frivolous and laughable and he shouldn’t be asking Arthur something so serious so casually. 

But, when Arthur kisses him, when he holds him close and embraces him tight, when he says a breathy little ‘yes’ in between every swipe of his tongue, Charles starts to think it’s not just a silly, foolish dream. 

“Yes,” Arthur says as he kisses him hard and makes love to him soft. 

“Yes,” Arthur says as he rolls them over in their bed of grass, gazes up at Charles like he’s a wonder. 

“Yes,” Arthur says as he leans up into Charles’ space that hasn’t been his own in quite some time now.

Arthur kisses and caresses and repeats the word against Charles’ lips like it’s a fact and not just an agreement. Like it’s an oath he plans to keep. 

[k1ngdom-of-thieves]

Hello! May I ask for a Vil,Riddle,Trey,Idia and Jack with a frail reader who has a lot of medical issues like having a lot of meds and struggling to live in Ramshackle bc of the dust etc? I have a problem with my strength so it would be cool to see these characters deal with a reader like this.

Vil, Riddle, Trey, Idia and Jack + reader with medical issues

I tried to keep descriptions vague because I’m not the best with writing for illnesses.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil would immediately ask you to stay in Pomfiore as soon as he found out about your current living conditions. The dust and bugs in the dorm are not gonna be helping your medical issues in the slightest.

If you agree to going to Pomfiore, he’ll make sure that your room would be set up with any medical supplies you could need. From various types of allergy medicine, to practically any flavor of cough drop you could possibly want. Is it a little overboard? Yes, but he’s just really worried about you.

If you opt to stay in Ramshackle, Vil would be very against the notion but wouldn’t argue with you about it. Instead, he’ll help you clean every nook and cranny in that dorm.

Although he looks fairly thin, he’s still plenty strong. Don’t even think about over-exerting yourself; not only will you get the longest scolding of your life, he’ll also take whatever you were trying to carry and do it for you.

“Please don’t place too much pressure on yourself. I know you are plenty capable on your own, but you can still rely on me if you feel overwhelmed.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle would be so irritated that Crowley would make you stay in a place like Ramshackle knowing of your medical problems. How could such a great mage be so irresponsible!?

He doesn’t mind if you would rather stay in the dorm than live somewhere else, but that just means he’ll work to make sure Ramshackle is spotless.

Since his parents are doctors, he knows a little bit about how to treat certain conditions or what medications work the best. He’ll practically buy the entire store’s stock of whatever medicine would make you feel better.

If you ever get sick, he’ll be worrying more than you’d be. He’s checking up on you every chance he gets; from in between classes, to after the equestrian club meetings, and before he goes to sleep.

“Do you want anything from the store? I could bring a humidifier just in case you need it.”

Trey Clover

Trey would love to be able to offer you a place in Heartslabyul, but he’s really in no position to do so; with him having three other roommates in his dorm room. But he’ll definitely ask Riddle about it if you’re interested.

He’ll be right by your side if you need anything, no matter how small it is. Even if it’s during club meetings, plus Rook doesn’t seem to be offended by Trey disappearing from time to time. He says stuff about being able to witness the beauty of young love.

Even though he’s a better baker than chef, he’ll still try to make you any dish that you could want. Don’t worry about it being to complex for him to make, if anything he’ll just ask one of the cafeteria ghosts to help him out.

If you ever experience aches and pains, he’ll offer to give you a massage. Sure, it may not help with all of your pain but it’ll definitely be super relaxing.

“How are you feeling? Please let me know if you’re feeling any pain; I may not be able to get rid of all of it, but I’ll try my best if it’s for you.”

Idia Shroud

Idia would have nothing but the highest respect for you. Not only are you living in a dusty, rundown, haunted building with no wifi; you’re doing it all with a bunch of medical conditions! That’s like playing on maddening difficulty!!

He’ll make sure that Ignihyde has the best medical equipment if you ever choose to spend the night there. He might go a little overboard with it, but he’s just worried about not being able to help of you need him.

Don’t be surprised if you see a little robot delivering treats to you if you’re not feeling the best. Sometimes, it’ll be Ortho that comes to sing you a tune from a show he and Idia watched.

If you ever ask him to let you live at his dorm, he’d be over the moon. He’d be so excited to have you around more often.

“How are you feeling? If you’re not feeling the best, let me know and I’ll turn your difficulty settings down as fast as I can!.” He just wants to help.

Jack Howl

Jack is another guy who’ll want to invite you to his dorm; just to get you away from all the dust if nothing else. But seeing that his dorm is Savanaclaw, you probably won’t be getting the best medical attention aside from athletic injuries.

He will drop everything that he’s doing in order to help you if you’re ever in pain or just feeling under the weather. Don’t ever feel guilty about him always being there when you call; he’s doing it because he loves you, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

This wolf boy has like a sixth sense for knowing what you need when you need it. Even if it’s not something like medicine; once he bought you bug spray without you even knowing you were out of it.

Constantly spends the night in Ramshackle to be able to check on you easier. He gets anxious sometimes. It’s gotten to the point where the ghosts have started bringing an extra chair to the dinner table for him.

“What? No I wasn’t worried over you, I know you can handle yourself. My ears aren’t drooping either!”

[running-with-the-feels]

I will be doing that Kenshi character analysis when I have more free time (life's been hectic lately), but until then, please take my headcanons:

Kenshi chews hard candies. This is apparently a genetic trait since Takeda does the same thing.

Frost's real name is Morya (pronounced mori-ya) and she's Russian and Kazakh.

Her hair was also originally black but turned white with age. Which is a common thing for cryomancers, the fact that Kuai Liang has any black hair at his big age is nothing short of a miracle.

Sonya is a kleptomaniac and was a chronic shoplifter in her early teen years (a habit that took months to break). Nothing big just some snack food but she still finds herself pocketing things she's not supposed to.

Liu Kang's favorite song is One Week by Barenaked Ladies. If he's being honest, it kinda reminds him of his relationship with Kung Lao. (I have so many Liu Kang headcanons it's unreal but I'm going to limit myself to one for this ask)

This one's long:

Bi Han, before being kidnapped by the Lin Kuei, wanted to be an opera singer. He wasn't good at singing to start out, but one of his mom's friends worked at an opera house and was happy to give him free lessons. After being initiated into the Lin Kuei he was banned from indulging in hobbies as they were seen as meaningless. But he continued to practice if he had time on solo missions. He saw it as his own act of freedom/rebellion.

Then Hanzo tore his head off. As Noob he didn't even get to try, since the whole mind control business. Sometimes he'd find himself unconsciously falling back into old habits leading to people being unnerved when Noob fucking Saibot started hitting notes high enough to crack glass at them like some kind of horror movie.

Even after getting his humanity restored, his vocal cords were permanently damaged and pushing his voice too hard results in coughing fits, soreness, and losing his voice for days at a time. And when he does sing, it's strained and sometimes hurts. But if Bi Han's anything it's stubborn so he continues to "build up his tolerance" as he calls it.

EEEEEEEEEE can't wait to see it and I love these

The first time Sonya sees Kenshi chew a hard candy she walks straight into a wall in horror. Cassie does the same when she catches Takeda doing it.

The only people allowed to call Frost Morya are Kuai Liang and Cassie. Kuai Liang only ever does it when she's ill or injured and though she'll never admit it she finds it very comforting, and Cassie calls her that whenever she wants to kiss her really bad (bc Frost always kisses her when she does)

Kuai Liang still has black hair that oddly shows no sign of greying, but his eyes tend to flicker between their normal brown and a terrifyingly bright blue whenever he has a strong emotion, a trait also common in cryomancers.

Johnny is actually Sonya's biggest supporter in breaking her habit of nicking things and is the only person she's ever met that hasn't judged her for it, which she appreciates

Kung Lao's fav song is all star by smash mouth and he's the one who introduced Liu Kang to most of the music that Liu Kang knows (pls tell me your Liu Kang hc if you get the chance, I Beg)

Bi-Han used to sing lullabies to Kuai Liang and Tomáš in the Lin Kuei and Enenra can still be founding humming the tunes along to himself after a hard battle.

Noob got a bit of a reputation as a siren in the Netherrealm bc if you heard him singing it meant you were already dead.

After they resurrected Bi-Han and he began living at the Lin Kuei temple with Kuai Liang, Hanzo eventually came to apologize for killing him, it didn't go well but Hanzo is trying to atone and Bi-Han is struggling to stay angry about it (especially when Kuai Liang wants them to get along so bad)

Hanzo found out about the damage to his vocal chords and sought out an edenian tea said to be able to aid in the healing of such wounds, gifting it to the shadow wielder as part of his apology.

Bi-Han will never admit it but it actually works and being able to sing without pain again, even if only for as long as the tea is in effect, is the first thing to make him really feel human again

[softbutchthatlovesyou]

First things first: I am not deactivating. Just. Taking a break.

Mututals: You can get my discord if I don't ask for yours before I leave in a couple days. You can also give me a snap though I may be worse at responding to that.

This is my reasons for leaving so no one thinks I do anything crazy, or if anyone has their own gripe they can take this as a sign to take a mental health break of your own.

.

The Racism on this site remains unchecked, and the agression against black user who call it out should absolutely NOT be that high. You adore recreating the racist systems that got us here in the first place. You think your lense on how we experience opression, even the theories we wrote, are better and clearly so much superior.

Exorsexism is disgustingly rampant. We are a jokes to people. We are fakes to other. We are a convenient argument about people passing. We are "dangerous" to a preciously protected set of binaries that do nothing to help any of us.

Lesbophobia across the site has no reason to be so high on a site with so many Lesbians and yet!! We treat labels like they're more important than lives. People act like a personal interpretation of the idenity is an attack. We go "Being a Lesbian is so complex. It's intricate and special" And then when a butch takes t, or a femmes uses he and maybe even gets top surgery, or someones attraction isnt the simply wlw Lesbianism they're told they're doing it wrong and that it's not fair to try and over complicate being a lesbian.

Transandrophobia and Transmisogyny against me and other trans people on this site is out of control. People are infighting and people are lashing out laterally and comparing it 1:1 to the opression the system holds against all of us.

Intersexism continues to be like, so easy for you guys to commit no matter how many voices speak up about how best to be aware of intersex issues.

You guys adore ableism just as you have for years and years. You're obsessed with degrading people who do mental illness or disability "wrong." You see someone stuggling with illness and you don't wait to tell them your personal opinion on their experience. Adding ocd triggering guilt tripping to post. Refusing to hear out people about adding image ids/alt images and how screen readers work.

The Antisemitism I was seeing well before 10/7 was gross. It only increased as people scrambled not to be associated with "the bad jew." People had mutuals and friends for years that abandoned them at the first chance. They spread lies or twisted truths in order to chose Jewish bloggers off the site. I DO notice that when people make post on antisemitism there is often more Jewish people than goy in the notes acknowledging it. I don't think I've seen one without horrid Antisemitism in it's own notes in months. Multiple people have told me to leave my heritage out of pride in their attempts to keep out Jewish people.

Voices from Palstine are only used when they support certain ideas. You all turned supporting people into a fucking witch hunt against profiles on the Internet. You reblog a post of Palastine joy and then reblog an unsourced tweet about something Palstinians have said isn't true, that slanders Jewish people unprompted. For a long time some of you weren't even sharing the right sources for helping them bc you couldn't fact check before sharing?

-

And then there's fucking STAFF. They couldn't stop themselves from banning trans blogs if you paid them. They couldn't keep harassment campaigns at bay if it killed someone.

They used us to coax queer people here for years by sharing that they support queer identities and even at one point let our porn exist here! And then it was all fucking wiped off the map. Now one mass reporting of an untrue claim can get an minorties blog permanently removed.

They say "We need money!" but when people gave it to them this site got w o r se. They use distractions and try and make stuff around the fun shit we came up with to keep us from fussing.

They mute and remove users who make a loud enough point to sway people. They mute and removes uses that are so quiet no one would notice.

Minorties inboxes are a headache.

.

So I'm out. I'll probably be back at some point because I have things I DO enjoy here.

But for mental health I just gotta catch my breath.

This will be my pinned until I get back I guess im case anyone wonders where I went.

I'll have a queue going of a few last minute things i want on my blog but when it runs out thats it for a while until I return.

Thats all

[oetscop]

hey! absolutely love your art and your rainer interpretation- can you talk about your headcanons lore-wise involving rainer and mike? honestly you can talk about more than just those two as well i'm very curious about your interpretations honestly.

YOOO I LOVE UR RAINER ALSO thank u.....

this will hopefully not be complete word salad. bc my brains fried already, but my views on petscop characters are esoteric and best and downright incomprehensible at worst. so idk how legible this will be JDKSHSKSBSK

uhh ill start with like. jill is significantly older than anna and lina. rainers actually fairly close in age to anna.

rainers biological dad isnt in the picture and actually went missing a few years after him and jill divorced. it runs in the family i guess. but since tom was there longer hes only ever called him dad, and both jill and him took the last name hammond when they got married. and mike was actually an accident! a welcome one tho. jill and tom were in their 40s and rainer was like 16 or so.

they were very close tho! he was very close with his immediate family. for the brief time he was in college he still lived at home despite the commute.

mike would sit and watch him work on the game all the time. he wanted him to teach him how to code (thats why he created the "petscop kids" after school program! at first anyway...) but 5-6 year olds dont exactly have the attention span for explaining how the dev kit console works. unless theyre belle i guess. but he did get into art! and considering rainers also an artist he encouraged it. mike would sometimes draw his own pets to be put in the game, but since it never went past evencare they never showed up. he did sorta base toneth on mike, and that was before he based any of the other pets on other family members.

mike went missing shortly after rainers mental health was declining. he ran away after some argument with his mom, and nobody remembers what the argument was even about. since this was after marvin hit the dog with the car, and he was beginning to experience psychosis, he immediately made the connection and believed marvin had something to do with it. the cops found it a little suspicious that rainer somehow just knew he had been struck by a car, and he was the only suspect for quite a while. tom had to vouch for him pretty hard and get him a lawyer.

as for vaguer things. the newmaker plane was started in an attempt to find out where mike wouldve run to. he was already recording movements in game, so he put all of mikes in game behaviors into a to scale version of their town, trying to train it to show him where he couldve gone. this obviously didnt work. didnt help that it was completely flat terrain and like had only their house, the marks house, the school and like a couple roads. it actually lead him to the opposite side of the town than where his body was located.

marvin is ALSO severely mentally ill and was convinced that care was lina reborn before any of this happened. obviously anna didnt believe that since shes still. yknow. alive. but rainer introduced the A/B/NLM concept to him, and they both began to believe care was just lina A reborn. pre traumatic event lina. they were both trying to see if they could somehow force something like that to occur, in an attempt to bring mike A back. when belle didnt work, they figured she was too old, so they moved to care. part of this whole "changing your past" thing involved plucking out her eyebrows (lina A had trich) and essentially trying to reenact aforementioned traumatic event. thats why marvin kidnapped her to keep her in the school. and it didnt work! just traumatized the fuck outta the kid. they never had the chance to do anything to "bring mike back" by the end of it, which lead to Bathroom Tomb Event. however, last belle heard, he was pretty certain paul was actually mike A. she tried her best to keep that from paul before they became distant.

i feel like the core of a lot of this is that i really dont believe that the rebirthing process does anything at all. with enough manipulation you may start developing false memories, sure, but its not actually working. in retrospect it makes rainers character a lot sadder. just a terrified kid trying in vain to bring his baby brother back. its not easy losing someone so young in such a horrible way without knowing who took his life.

BUT UUHHH YEAH ^}^ can you tell ive been thinking abt petscop pretty much nonstop since the end of 2022 i bet you cant

[tadpal]

tagged by @abrahamvanhelsings !! thank you!

last song: Hong Kong Cemetery by Johnny Flynn. it's got a dreary sort of melancholy which has suited me well recently! and a rolling motion to it which matched the long train i was recently on. and i love a chant and the slurred out of time "I'm alright!" in this one is particularly moving to me.

last book: currently im getting through wolf hall, but i am falling victim to the slowing as i approach the end now. last four chapters! last book i finished.... well it's difficult to say bc ive mostly been chapter reading essays in this last year. probably We Have Always Lived In The Castle back in october. good read 👍

last movie: captain fantastic . a great way for me personally to ruin my own day. eerily similar to the way i was raised. makes me feel like im in a meat grinder

last television show: love alarm! honestly unless the premise starts kicking in im going to dnf and after only one ep too..... it's just like. you have this premise of a love alarm which im happy to buy into but then having your main characters all choose to opt out? ok so what was the point of all the love alarm then. im also supremely tired of love triangles rn. possibly ill pick this up next time i want to watch something fluffy but we'll see.

sweet/savoury/spicy: sour or vinegary or salty which I guess is typically savoury but like. it's also different bc it can be sweet or spicy or combined and the constant is the sour or tangy tastes

relationship status: single!

last thing i looked up on the internet: point and shoot film cameras. im hoping to (and it seems likely that i will) travel more in the new year and id like to not take pictures on my phone especially considering when im travelling alone taking digital photos feels weirdly sterile and empty in a way that my solo film pictures don't?

current obsession: wolf hall but also! the early modern age! that was just a fun coincidence that they're bonking heads so near

looking forward to: going down south! im so rarely down there but it looks like im going to have many opportunities! especially if i get a chance to meet up with friends who are more southern than i am!! epic!!

tagging: @duskodair @hollowslantern @silvermagpies @courtjester69420 and @courtjester42069

[rowrowknowa]

guidelines

---General Rules

✮ this blog contains some NSFW content; i'll always try my best to tag all warnings appropriately

✮ MDNI, non-negotiable. i won't interact with ageless or take requests from ageless blogs. don't follow me, don't send asks, stay outta grown folks business!! ✮ i don't take requests for minors (obviously), even SFW asks if they're romantic in nature

✮ black bi, i dont tolerate any type of racism, colorism, ableism, fatphobia, zionism, homo/queer/transphobia -- i want a space of inclusiveness and i will check you

✮ i currently am taking requests! but to keep it real theres no guarantees so dont be offended if i dont do yours

✮ i take spoilers VERY seriously and VERY personally for myself and others im so serious so please pay attention to where i am in a given work (anime only) and try not to give anything away pls (if ur not sure ask)

---General Writing

✮ what i write for at any given moment will depend on what my current fixation is

✮ ill always write for one piece (anime and live action). currently taking requests for FE3H and JJK as well - if you have a request for me to write for something outside of these feel free to suggest

✮ im a reader insert lover im so sorry so majority of my works will be in the second person. only rarely will i have an OC and thats likely for longer works

✮ all works will likely default to member x cis f!reader because thats the POV im most familiar with (i.e. i tend to write myself as a placeholder), but don't take that to mean i won't write any other reader inserts. i'm open to writing with a reader insert of any gender / any genitalia so please request it! and leave feedback and critique so i can improve on writing in those POV

---NSFW writing

✮ i dont do scat, (watersports is a maybe...if you're convincing enough), dont do abo, dont do raceplay, dont do ageplay, no extremely dark content/kinks/themes, dont do gore, not a fan of "daddy"

✮ a separate bullet because this one is important bc its popular: i won't do size kinks that center/elevate petite/skinny frames. ive seen so many works that write them in a way thats bigger/taller/larger body exclusive and bordering fatphobic/heightist.. i dont want people who are already marginalized to feel even further marginalized. if you wanna read that go find another work.

✮ i do write for a variety of kinks. the inclusion/exclusion criteria here isnt exhaustive if you're not sure, ask.

✮ i don't write characterxcharacter usually but im a slut for a good threesome with it peppered in. i won't write a poly relationship mostly because i know my strengths and weaknesses and i promise you wont want to read my attempt at that

---Requests!

✮ requests are welcome!

✮ headcanons, A-Z, MTLs, reactions, and scenarios are more likely to be fulfilled because they're less intensive to me, fun and quick!

✮ when sending an ask, please be specific! give mama (me) something to work with. feel free to try and make it interesting, give me ideas to bounce off of, send your thoughts/fantasies/etc

✮ i will take one shot requests but the longer, more complex it is the longer it'll take/lower chance it is i'll do it if it's not speaking to me

✮ i'm my own biggest critic so if i feel like i don't like what i write i won't post it

✮ i do work a full time big girl job so be patient and don't be offended if i don't get to your ask

[yourpixieandbuddy]

oh god oh god another 30 something returning to tumblr after a decade oh god

an introduction post

hi hello my name is pixie aka pix. i’m a career writer, former new englander, multimedia artist, photography nerd, and at times resident internet mom (irl a mom to a preteen cooler than anyone i’ve ever met). last year i packed up a bag for myself and my son and moved to new jersey while my fiancé and his band were on tour and we started our lives over.

this blog is my second chance at life but featured just on a tiny corner of the internet. i am hoping to have an outlet to share these very bizarre adventures i’ve been finding myself on, document the art that i am trying to create after a year hiatus, talk about ptsd/autism/chronic illness, and just like…idk exist again without feeling bad about that? make an internet friend or two, feel like me? write a few reviews, share some introspection no one asked for, confess the dumb things i’ve done, be better than i was.

lets be mutuals bc im tired of only socializing at my fiancés merch table.

ily ig bye, enjoy these pics of me/my art

[carpathianspaceprincess]

Wintering (The Irish Poem) - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel reads a favourite poem of yours, and reflects on the subject's similarities to you.

Rating: E. minors dni.

Pairing: Joel Miller x SeasonalDepression!Reader (F)

Tags: Irish coded reader. a little bit of Gaeilge. One Shot. Happy Ending(™). FLUFF. Sickening fluff. Soft!Joel. Established relationship/situationship. No smut in this but could be in the future.(❀❛ ֊ ❛„). Book a dentist appointment my friends, you will probably have cavities after reading this.

CW: brief mention of suicide and overdose attempt, mentions of seasonal depression/mental illness symptoms, mention of SSRIs. 

WC: 2.4k

A/N: Happy late St. Patrick’s Day! This work was inspired by an Irish poem called “Geimhriú” by Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh. The translation came from this post, and I only have a little Irish but it seems right. The Irish language is beautiful and I love it dearly, so I wanted my first posted work to celebrate it (i'm terrified of sharing this btw lol). I wrote this bc culture and language is nearly always left behind and forgotten in survivalist worlds like TLOU, and it’s rarely a theme in fics, but is an essential part of survival, especially for Irish communities. I may potentially expand this work to a series to explore more aspects of Irish culture as part of the story if it's well-received and I feel like it. btw this is not beta-read and idk how to format anything - this is genuinely my first time posting so there are likely mistakes! please comment if you find one, or have constructive criticisms, and of course like/reshare and interact if you had a good time reading this, it would mean the world to this little Irish gal.

(♡ ὅ ��� ὅ )ʃ♡ enjoy!

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊.

Even at the end of the world, in the fucking apocalypse, in this shitty, godforsaken place, you were still somehow suffering from a seasonal affliction. 

Depression, that is. 

Joel saw it immediately, the way you took a little longer to answer the door when he came for you in the mornings, the bags under your eyes just a little more pronounced as the days in your district grew less colourful and the dry leaves wilted to the sodden earth. He also saw how you tried to hide it and for a while, tried to respect your clear denial of something being very, very wrong. 

To your credit, you did what you could; soldiered on. Ate and slept more than usual, like a bear. Before the outbreak, you’d been on Zoloft, then Wellbutrin, but the chances of any SSRI medication still existing were so slim you knew you didn’t need to bother checking. 

Even so, it frustrated you every morning, the fact that you weren’t like Joel. That you couldn’t just get up and get on with your day, that you needed some stupid chemical to make your brain work just because the weather was cold and the sky was churning furiously, gnashing it's teeth on nothing but grey, day-in and day-out. 

You couldn’t make sense of it. You were living in near constant poverty, under a dystopian military dictatorship and in the middle of a civil war every god-damned fucking day whether the sun was shining or not, so why did the fields being barren and slick with sleet make you viscerally despise life so much more than seeing them full of fresh flowers and humming with bees? You’d still be hungry at the end of the day. Exhausted. What should the seasons matter to you now? There was no difference. No future. Not then.

You had hoped that maybe eventually, living in constant survival mode might, y’know, actually make your brain want to survive. But it didn’t. You hated it. But what you hated about yourself most of all was the fact that you desperately needed help. It was pathetic. Weak. 

Joel didn't see it that way. Well, he didn't now.

At the start he thought it hadn't been too serious. Maybe you were 'just tired'.

But then winter had nearly taken you from him that year. The sudden and shocking bone-chill of Boston post-October had him practically dragging you out of your own bed every morning for the “supply run” he had taken to bringing you along on; silently begging you to get up and keep going for his sake if not your own. Telling you if a man from Texas could survive it, you’d better get your sorry ass up and do the same. 

He’d found you then, in late December, the dead of night, throwing up and barely breathing. You’d collected enough opioids to kill a horse and tried to take your own life. You’d been lucky to see the next sunrise, and that was the last time he’d allowed you to sleep on your own. And the first time he’d heard of “Seasonal Depressive Disorder”, or whatever it was. 

You’d explained that before all this, you’d had medications that would have stopped this issue for you; so Joel, having then appointed your fragile well-being as his responsibility, had looked for some. But of course there was nothing. So much to everyone else's delight, he spent the winter just like you; because like two really fucked-up peas in a pod, if you were in a foul mood, Joel’s was never far behind. With the QZ being overcrowded, freezing, and insistent on working you both to the bone, you were always in a foul mood. 

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

So now he can admit to himself that he likes this; likes seeing the glow of your rosy, apple cheeks in the tangerine afternoon rays of a tired day. The way the sunlight dapples the colour of your hair; the lazy smile that breaks across your gentle mouth as the cool breeze caresses you both. This wheat field is completely abandoned, high bland stalks swaying quietly. The rush of the little river nearby. A perfect place to take you; you who were beaming so joyfully, could’ve replaced the goddamn sun itself as far as it concerned him. 

He feels the embroidered spine of your book in his hand, holding it away from your reach. The one you always had open on the same page, the one he caught you reading when you were supposed to have your hands on your rifle and your sharp eyes looking for guards and raiders.

“Let me read it.” he grins without realizing it, stretching a little further away as your fingers grab for purchase, pointlessly. You're too short to even touch the cover as he leans over you. “No!” You reiterate, and he frowns, a finger coming to his lips to remind you of your surroundings. Still careful. “Why not, huh? Can't be that bad if y'like it so much.” 

A slow blush stains you as you huff, dropping your arms to your sides. Like a petulant child. Admitting defeat.

“Fine, but it’s not even in English.”

He quirks an eyebrow at that, and keeps your gaze as he flips the faded, worn pages open to find the one he’s looking for. “You won’t understand it.” You whisper. But he doesn’t need to understand it, he just wants to see. It makes perfect sense to him that you're bilingual, he doesn't know a lot about you, but he knows you're smart, and sharp as a tack...as long as something interests you.

The paper of this page in particular is dog-eared to the point of severe damage, and marked to all hell, but it isn’t dusty at all. Whatever this is, he sees that it’s well-loved by you. Well-read. His curiosity gets the better of him as you make one last reach for the precious item and he, with ease and very quiet glee, denies you. 

He doesn’t try to read it aloud though, the words roll around on his tongue unfamiliar, tangled up in the calculator of his brain that is so used to the anglo-saxon american structure of speech. But he scans it quietly all the same, to your surprise. 

Ná labhair focal,

ná féach im threo,

tá duifean ar mo chroí

nách n-ardófar. 

Géillim don ngeimhriú

Ní aithneofar mé 

go péacadh na mbachlóg. 

Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh.

He clears his throat, and runs a finger along the last line of text; “This the author?” 

You peer over, nodding. He hums in acknowledgement, filing the information away for later. Then he graciously hands the book back to you, brushing your fingers with his, and you snatch it away; folding it closed against your lap. A low gust of wind makes the hair that frames the sides of your face dance delicately. You lean back on your arms then, to appear relaxed. Trying not to think of the delicious electricity sparkling under your smooth skin at his touch. Failing. You're hot, now. The humidity doing nothing to cool off the desire pooling in your belly as you look up at him through thick lashes. He's chewing a thought in his mouth, you can see it.

“Gaelic?” 

You are actually taken aback, but smile and shake your head good-naturedly at the attempt. “Gaeilge.” 

A look of confusion crosses his brow and a laugh, golden and sugary, pours from your chest. It squeezes him with violent affection for you. “Gaelic is Scottish. This is Irish. Gaeilge.” You repeat, cocking your head. “They’re different.” 

He nods slowly. He wants to ask you how you came to speak it, and is that why you have a lilt in your accent? did you come from there? From Ireland? And how did you manage to keep speaking it after the outbreak?

 But, he thinks those questions can wait til later. You'll tell him your story on your own terms when you're ready, and he respects that. What he does know is that this must be important to you somehow, and he's happy to focus on that for now.

 “You gonna tell me what it’s about?” 

“I could...but those are meant to be read and understood in the spirit of the language they’re in. They’re not meant to be in English.” You season the last word with some disdain, teasing.

He gives you a dry look and you laugh again. Rolling his eyes and pretending to fall over, he pops back up and props his dozy head with his elbow against the coffee-brown and burgundy leaves that have scattered and broken on the ground beneath gale-swept branches. Then he waits. 

You take him in in all his intensity, the way his curls ruffle against his hand. The sleeves of his shirt pushed to his elbows, muscles and tendons flexing and taut, brown in the sun and from working outdoors.

You guess you do owe him one. Reaching your free hand towards him, he turns his face into your gentle touch on his jaw, and you just about explode. How could you deny him anything when he looks like this?

“Alright,” You give in, and it feels like the easiest thing in the world.  

The book opens once more, and his pretty eyes follow your slender finger against the printed words with his gaze; you feel observed; shy. And you begin, your voice unsure of itself. But his hand on your thigh is cosy, encouraging.

“Don’t say a word,

Don’t look in my direction,

There’s something on my heart 

That can’t be lifted. 

I give in to wintering 

You won’t see me

Til the buds begin to blossom”. 

“Til the buds begin to blossom.” He repeats slowly, intentionally. 

“You a man of literature now, Miller?” 

He exhales sharply. “Not at all, ma’am. Just a curious one.”

The corner of your lips tugs upwards at this easier side of him - and you hum as you close the book and set it down with care, next to you. You each settle against the other comfortably then, taking in the sights and scents around you. A tranquility has made home inside your bones, with the feeling of his warm front against your back and you raise your face to the rays of sun; still beaming onto you from the early evening sky. Your whole body rests now, soothed by his presence.

Comfortable silence blankets over you both, for a few minutes. 

“So, d’ya like the view?” He asks all of a sudden, kicking his feet back and stretching against the massive tree he’s got you both behind - completely hidden from the view of the gate patrol. He’s been scoping this place out for weeks, he knows it’s safe. 

You feel his shirt ride up against your back and it ignites something that quickly dwarfs anything mellow or peaceful inside you.

“Do I like it, Joel Miller?” You repeat incredulously, turning around and crawling onto his lap; with only a little grace. His rough, calloused hands instinctively come up to your hips, and the denim of your worn jeans suddenly feels far too tight and restrictive for the kinds of lovely, fuzzy messages your body is giving to you. You straighten up, leaning in to breathe; a faint hint of whiskey, lot of smoke. Lot of man. Yours. Your man. 

Before you can unleash the teasing reply you had tucked away for him, an unwelcome thought sobers you. He notices the shadow cross your pretty face, the terrible memory flickering away in the back of your mind. Calling back to your thoughts before, you realise very abruptly that you do owe him one. In fact, you owe him your life for this very afternoon. The seeping heat on your skin and the pastel wildflowers. The gorgeous vermillion colour of the sky. The rush of contentment in your heart.

“I never would have even seen this sunset if it wasn’t for you.” You murmur, lowly enough that he has to strain to hear it. A grumble rumbles in his chest but he says nothing in reply, so you stay quiet, and take his larger hands into yours. Trying to convey how grateful you are with your touch. Hoping it'll osmosis or something. Knowing you can never repay him for his selflessness, his friendship, his sacrifices. 

He clears his throat then, to get your attention, and you lock eyes with him; searching and deep. Knowing. 

“You know I love it.” you whisper, appreciating the deep brown irises framed by spectacular eyelashes. The eyes you’d know absolutely anywhere. “I love it more than anything.”

You’re not talking about the view anymore. 

 He knows it, too; lines softening at the complete adoration on your face, the vulnerability; the way you’re giving it all to him. And he wants it even though he really shouldn’t. He wants you exactly like this for the rest of your lives. Warm and happy, tucked up next to him in some butt-fuck middle of nowhere place in the sun, tending to your garden and reading your books and your poems, unbothered by the harsh realities of the world revolving around you. Away and safe from the sickness and cruelty of the cities.

 He watches carefully the radiant glow that’s touching your expression, and he can’t help but understand then, why you like that poem. 

It’s you. 

In moments like these, when you’re pressed up against him and smelling so sweet he feels heady and drunk, it’s much harder to shove away those very domesticated thoughts he’s been having; of you and the kind of things he wants to give you. The kind of life he wants you to have, together. Although he couldn’t tell you out loud, not yet anyway. He’s working on it. 

You wonder what he's thinking about, leaning to press a soft kiss to his chin to bring him back to earth- closing your eyes at rough stubble brushing against your cheek. You feel an earth-shattering smile and wish you could see, but it’s gone by the time you raise your head again. 

What you do see is a tanned arm reaching behind you to pluck something from the soft earth.

It’s a sunflower. Bright and plush and golden. 

 Like you, he thinks. 

Firm fingers gently and deftly push your strands aside, carefully slipping the green stalk of it right behind your left ear.

Leaning back to peer at you and admire his handiwork, he tucks his hands behind his head.

 He compares what’s in front of him now to his memories of last month; your face tear-tracked and pale in his bed, telling him you didn’t want to live. Him never knowing how to help you, spending those bleak evenings with fear poisoning his every thought, constantly worrying he would come back home to you cold and still. Wrapping himself tight around you in his bed late at night in the hopes he could somehow just piece it all back together by holding you. The memories the experience brought up for him; the ones fuelling his terror of failing you, like he failed her. 

And now you here, surrounded by spring buds blossoming in the sweet change of the season. Wildflowers, peonies, just like you, so easily pleased by the sun and the green of the forest and the view from the top of your apartment building once the snow had begun to melt. Softened by just a little bit of warmth and a lot of love. A lot of care. He's proud of you and how hard you've worked to drag yourself out of the place you were in.

He’s suddenly finding it difficult to control the way he wants to cry with relief. 

You don’t know any of this, of course. But the way he observes you so deliberately sends little shivers down your spine, despite the humidity and haze. You do feel kind of silly sitting like this though, so you reach up to pull the flower from your hair, but his fingers grip your wrist hard and fast before you can get to it and they tell you otherwise, pressing indents into your skin that you'll remember later tonight.

“Don’t.” He says softly. “I like it.”

You try to stop the grin from breaking out but fail miserably, and he's dazzled by it. One smile, and he’s completely and overwhelmingly filled with love for you.

 Yes, he thinks; even at the end of the world, even in this shitty fucking place, this apocalyptic nightmare, you still somehow manage to blossom in the sun.

[breakfastassociation]

I dont think death is a cheater

*big ol text for something very teeny*

one of puss' lives introduces the idea that death is cheating because he's coming after puss even though hes totally alive. which sure sounds like cheating to me!

but as many have noted(1), we do not see death hanging around all the time

he wasnt at mama lunas

he wasnt on the road part of the roadtrip to the star

he wasnt with puss in the safety of the woods and perrito

etc

we only see death when puss is risking his life

over consuming milk(2)

slaying the giant (this one is an easter egg)

getting shot at after stealing the map from horner

facing the bakers dozen

getting stuck in the cave of lost souls a la narcissus (this is my own pet theory, see prev post)

so it looks like death cant nab him at any old time, there is a set of boundaries that death has to operate in, ie puss has to be in real danger of losing his life to see death

which brings us to the Puss V Death sword fights that bookend this movie.

The First: death comes really close to getting puss (blood is drawn) and eventually disarms him. it would have been really easy to get this cat when hes down but he kicks the rapier over and tells him to pick it up (and continue the fight)

The Second: death appears right after puss finally has his hands on the map and is ready to make his 9 life wish. horner was stuck in his bag(3) as far as we knew and goldi + co were reconciled; there seemed to be no immediate threat to puss' life. but death rolls up nonetheless. is this the last chance, last ditch effort of death to finally get him?!

Puss got encircled in the arena of flames but like, the first thing death does after introductions is kick that rapier back over to puss and challenge him to the duel

So. in regards to cheating. i don't think death was cheating by coming after puss in person. i think if he was really cheating, he would have axed puss the first chance he got. that would line up with this whole 'vengeance' idea.

i think the writers upheld death's mythos of being an unstoppable, altho rule-bound force, of nature. taking puss' life without cause, executioner style, would have been cheating(4)

i think death kept egging puss to pick up his sword so that

puss had the opportunity to live or die in fair, armed combat

death had the opportunity to take puss' life without stepping outside the bounds of 'only taking lives in danger of being lost'

But puss earning his life back by kicking the scythe back over to death instead of running.. and acknowledging that hes fighting a losing battle but staying anyways..

idk if any of this was intentional but if it, was i think its a great job on part of the writers of showing how such a complex system of balances could be depicted without outright showing the rule book to the audience. and to give death (the plot device, not the character) such an elaborate code to adhere to...ugh ive said it before and ill say it again the writers are so good at recycling

1 - another interesting thing is that death is waiting until puss' ninth life to come for him. hes had this grudge against cats for a while and never got to short them(1.1) if hes a cheater, youd think hed take more than just one the one life of one very ungrateful cat

altho, they might value their lives more and be less deserving of getting cheated

1.1 - for the sake of this post im ignoring this bc its pure speculation + off topic #justgirlytings

2 - unconfirmed but a fun idea

3 - was this the writers telling us that the real villain will always be a white man whos getting the bag ($) ?

4 - while it may not be standard protocol for death to show up and start fights, i think we can excuse this due to the extenuating circumstances (puss legit wasted 8 lives already, fucking cats am i right fellas?)

[asterssunzephyr]

Hear me out

hs au where the esmp s1 gang are all graduating (s2 is college!!) but Shelby left right after Graduation to go home and see her parents and Katherine asks if anyone saw them (all my aus have he/she/they prns c!Shelby)

And theyre all in a gc but only the twins brought their phones to graduation (bc its the twins) and their gc gets a text from Shelby

Shubble: Ill see you guys again!! I dont know when, since im going to a college for magic but hopefully when we all graduate:)

And the Twins share a look and then everyones RUSHING to Scott's limo, and saying goodbye to their parents so they can make Nature Wives happen

And Kat's panicking because do we even know what flight he's on?!

but they get to the airport, everyone in formal wear or still in their cap & gowns, and they're rushing through to get to Shelby's gate right as the second to final call for the flight is made

and they see Shelby in line and Scott yells out to stop them, and Shelby turns their head to see the other 11 (and maybe Xornoth bc he drove, he wanted to see nw happen) running towards the gate

and Shelby has to make the choice between staying or going and he looks at Katherine who looks so panicked and out of hope and she steps out of the line for boarding, asking for a flight delay of 10 minutes, please thats all I need. Make it quick kid, Flight takes off in 5.

And so Shelby runs towards the group and rather than having the chance to say anything, Katherine kisses her and everyone pauses because oh my god did Kat really do that

and Shelbys surprised and then theres the final call and Shelby asks if they can make something work out, wether it be long distance relationship or waiting four years for each other and Kat takes the long distance option because shes already waited four years to kiss Shelby, she doesnt think she can wait another four to do it again & they'll have holidays & breaks to see each other

And then Shelby runs to the gate to board the plane, waving bye to everyone with a huge fucking smile on their face and everyone else is waving and yelling bye back, and as soon as Shelbys out of side, Katherine almost passes out (but Pearl catches her!!) and everyone else is hyping her up

and then the graduation days for Shelbys college & the others colleges are a separate date, so they all get to make it to their own graduation and Shelbys, and vice versa for Shelby

and IF THERES A S3, which has been hinted at kinda by Fwhip?, then s3 would be their lives as adults and nw living together:)

[knife-em0ji]

Tw medical life and death medical stuff, terminal illness, discussions of withdrawing care, etc. This is tmi probably and directly talking to another person about it feels insurmountable but if I don't scream into the void I'm going to explode

My dad had a hemorrhagic stroke bc of one of his brain tumors on Friday and my mom and I legitimately thought he was going to die this weekend. We had to have the conversation of whether to keep him on life support if it came to that, and we both came to the conclusion that he wouldn't want to live that way. He's a man who has struggled with mental illness his entire life and has been on benzos for over thirty years, among other mood stabilizers and antipsychotics. His main method of coping is staying physical and active, he's extreme Colorado Man because his two loves in life are skiing and cycling. He's kind and gregarious, and already his illness has severely affected his quality of life in all the ways that make it worth living to him. Even the hummingbirds he loves to watch in our backyard have gone south for the year, and I don't think their inevitable return will be enough to convince him to keep going if he's not able to live the sort of life he defined himself by for all sixty three years of his life. The feeders were beset by wasps this year, and I think that might have been some sort of cosmic sign.

On the one hand I know people live happy and fulfilling lives with physical and neurological disability. These are also lives worth living, and people who live them are worthy of support and care with no caveats, just like every other human being. My mother and I would have no problems doing everything possible to keep my dad alive no matter the cost to his ability in certain areas or how much care he would need if he prioritized simply living above all else.

The thing is, he's just not that sort of person. He's not a fighter in that sense. I know that probably makes him a "bad" cancer patient or whatever, and probably makes my mom and I come off as heartless or ableist or whatever. But my dad is going to die from this. You don't come back from stage 4 cancer. Or if you do, chances are slim. Already my dad has become less independent than his 87 year old father who lives alone on a farm with just his dog for company, and I know it makes him even more depressed. My mom and I don't know what the right decision is to make. I know we should have had this conversation with my dad probably already but we didn't expect things to deteriorate this quickly. He was only diagnosed eight weeks ago.

The good thing is that when he woke up in the hospital after the emergency surgery he had to reduce the swelling in his brain, he ended up extubating himself in his post op haze and is breathing fine on his own, and he was even able to stand up and move his limbs pretty well. He's responsive and recognizes people. It was such a relief, considering for about eighteen hours my mom and I thought the worst. But it's also forced us to reckon with all these questions and I'm truly at the point where I think I'm already beginning to mourn my father. I'm also on a completely different continent and thankfully my mom has a great support network of friends and neighbors who are able to be with her, but I want to be there too. I'm seriously considering taking a leave of absence here sooner than I expected but everything is complicated because I need to get my residence permit renewed ASAP, and if for whatever reason they're not able to extend it right there at the city hall they'll have to mail my passport to Brussels for processing. Which could take up to 90 days.

I'm so distraught. I don't want to go anywhere or do anything except go home. I woke up bloated with a horrible stomach ache. But whatever happens happens I guess. I wish there was literally any other way out but through.