#tw: ptsd mention

[n1ghtwarden]

there is something about the way the synth-beat mimics gunfire - rushing through her ears and sound processors; a war on her mind, a war on the dance floor. the night warden had always preferred blades to guns - no matter how practical they claimed to be, were impersonal. easy. any soul off the street could use them - a blade, though - it took skill. discipline. years of training; balance and poise. there was an art to it, a grace to it - and no sound could compare to the clean cut of metal though bio-mod flesh and wiring. no, minthara is still standing in the battlefield of a war that had never ended - didn't matter that the papers read honourable discharge. didn't matter that her employee access had been revoked. she'd been born in the middle of it all; a cog in a machine - destined for greatness. here, now, in the middle of the atlantis with a drink in her hands, minthara baenre knows that she still is - but not the sort her mother had planned for her.

" i had little doubt that you would still be here. have you bothered to sober up from your long finished revelries? " she knows him before she sees him - high end audio processors picking up the heavy, all-too confident footfalls of @silverhandj. she can admire him - she does. won't say it, of course. his drive, his anger - but it is misplaced. mishandled. in all her dreams she sees the mega towers crumble, and it is her that would rise from those ashes. johnny screams and sings of the end of it, the tearing of it - she has not heard him speak about the after. red eyes glance sidelong, head turning to bring him into focus; and a smile cuts through her face sharper than any blade. " you look terrible. "

[ninjastormhawkkat]

I forgot if I told you about this silly ship. Eris and Victor. They met when Eris was in the middle of her prank. He didn't seem impressed at first until he told her "no, you're doing it wrong. You have to do it this way if you really want to get him"

Two-Brains keeps finding goat cheese mixed into his cheese stash. He doesn't know which one is which either so it's Russian roulette 😂

He joins in on the pranking. You see, Eris isn't like Athena at all. She genuinely cares for others. Especially little ones as she is a kindergarten teacher. And Victor is a toy maker. So they seem like a good match. Two-Brains doesn't care that they're seeing each other its the pranking he hates.

Eris also pranks Amazo Guy. A similar trait she does have with Athena. She is petty. But in a pranky way. Nothing malicious.

She understands why they took her to jail and scared her so badly but they still scared the living daylights out of her.

I dunno if WordGirl would warm up to Eris though as she looks identical to Athena.

Your thoughts?

Ooo I love the ship idea. Yes for Big bro and his new girlfriend pranking his younger bro.

As for Becky, it is like with Janus and Apollo. Becky knows that Eris isn't Athena and is nice, but is still traumatized by Athena so she hides behind her dad and stays with him until Eris leaves. She doesn't mind hanging out with Eris, just as long as she is not alone with her and near any lab stuff. It takes a while for Becky to not hide when Eris comes around and a even a bit longer to just talk to her. She still remains by her dad's side though

Also how would Joe react to Eris?

@drtwobrainsstuff

[peonyblossom]

Hi! I found these amazing question inspired on Taylor Swift’s album, so I thought your swifties MCs would appreciate them :) ❤ 1/2

Debut: when did you find out your life’s passion?

Fearless: what is one thing you did that scared you, but you did it anyway?

Speak now: what is something you did by yourself that you are most proud of?

Red: what life event put through hell, but you ended up better for it?

1989: what makes you feel most free/at ease?

ANON !!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS !!! LET'S GOOOOOO

Debut: when did you find your life's passion?

Sadie: Undergrad. When graduating high school she knew she wanted to go to med school post undergrad, but she wasn't sure what kind of doctor she wanted to be. Ethan's book made her realize what kind of doctor she wanted to be.

Sydney: High school. He realized he wanted to be a diagnostician to help people after a conversation with some friends about shitty experiences they've had with their doctors.

Jackie: High school. She'd enjoyed acting her whole life, but realized it was her passion during high school when she was trying to decide what to do in college. She realized she literally Could Not imagine her life without acting.

Fearless: What is one thing you did that scared you, but you did it anyway?

Sadie: Started the LGBTQ+ Health Department at Edenbrook. She was really scared about how it would be received by the community and her coworkers and if it would even be successful (it was).

Sydney: Went back to Edenbrook after the Senator attack. The event gave him PTSD and he found it really difficult to return to work after that and really struggled for some time. There were a few days he just had to call off because he just couldn't do it.

Jackie: Moved to L.A. to pursue acting. She had the chance to do paid local stage acting, but decided to move to L.A. instead to pursue film acting.

Speak now: what is something you did by yourself that you are most proud of?

Sadie: Proposing to Ethan. She was very proud of herself for taking the initiative and doing it when he wasn't. Obviously, women can propose to men, but it's still not super normalized and Sadie never really actually knew any women who did that.

Sydney: Came to terms with his sexuality at a young age. Sydney came out when he was 13, which is very young, so he is proud of himself for feeling that comfortable with his identity and with his relationships so he trusted them enough to tell them.

Jackie: Wrote her first novel. She was very nervous about it, but knew it was something she wanted to try and was very proud of the fact that she was able to do it. Of course, she had editors and whatnot, but she came up with the idea and actually wrote it and all.

Red: what life event put through hell, but you ended up better for it?

Sadie: Her miscarriages. She has two, one that's in a fic I wrote (Love Lost) and one that I haven't written about, but is mentioned in one of my WIPs. Her first one brought her and Ethan closer together and her second one influenced her future decision to have another kid.

Sydney: The trial from Book 1. It helped him realize just how much he was willing to do to help people, despite the rules.

Jackie: Viktor Montmartre. After that experience, she speaks out about SA in Hollywood and how it affected her.

1989: what makes you feel most free/at ease?

Sadie: Rock climbing! She loves the feeling of being so high off the ground and in nature.

Sydney: Skiing! He loves the speed he can get to and how he can just fly down the hill without a thought.

Jackie: Singing! It's one of her favorite hobbies and she loves the way music makes her feel.

[beastfaced]

                       ➪        JACKET

                                                      HOTLINE MIAMI

the unwilling hitman for a group known as 50 blessings.

a former operative for the US special forces.

when on a job, he dons one of various animal masks, typically that of a rooster.

[slaps his back] this baby can hold so much ptsd.

his relationship with reality is very fractured, exacerbated by recent events.

selectively mute; communicates via a tape recorder or gestures.

ready to throw hands at all times.

has no issues starting fights, or ending them for that matter.

all cops are bastards.

usually goes by “ richard ”.

thanks 50 blessings you ruined a perfectly good jacket. look at him, he’s got anxiety.

[kitxkatrp]

Just a fair warning that I might be subdued today. My PTSD is acting up something fierce and I've been stuck in flashbacks half the morning.

[lostmf]

I’m not sure I deserve it ..

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello, Congratulations on the 5k follows!!

I discovered this fandom a few months ago and have been living for your writing ever since.

I was thinking as a drabble of the taskforce gentlemen coming home at the crack of dawn from a long mission and seeing their spouse's hand, limp on the ground peeking out from the side of the couch. All the panic and worry going thru their heads, so much bubbling up, horrible scenarios. They rush over and find you sleeping on the floor. The power had gone out last night and the hardwood floor was the coolest place to be (you didn't want to open the window because you know how they worry), so you were watching stuff on your phone and drifted off. Crisis averted!

Thank you for your time 💜

—Wide-Eyed Panic

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

I’ll start by saying all of them would be concerned and immediately go into panic mode—why were you behind the couch? Why was your hand sticking out? Why, in God's name, were you not moving? Cue the horrible thoughts and flashes of what went on in their work lives.

John Price ➺

John entered the house with a sigh, slipping off his boots as the door was closed and deftly locked behind him. Grunting under his breath, the man rubs over his face, the lights off as he calls out with a tired grumble to his voice. 

“I’m back,” his voice echoes, the tone moving through the darkness far louder than it should have. There’s no answer. “Love…?” Pausing, John blinks slowly at the wall, ear twitching to the utter silence of the home. No water in the pipes. No buzzing of electricity. No you. Eyes rising, they dart around quickly as his finger moves out to the light switch. A small push elicits nothing, just as he thought. The power was out. 

Dread slowly creeps into John’s chest.

Hand reaching behind his back, the man’s fingers inch over the smooth metal of a pistol, grasping the weapon before he begins walking forward. He keeps silent, feet moving to where he knows the wood won't creak. 

His mind runs. 

Why was the power off? Where were you? Why didn’t you respond—were you hurt? John’s mind goes to blood and bullets, his jaw clenching tightly as the pistol comes out to rest in front of him; hands shifting the grip as he takes a soothing breath. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone, but it would be pointless to lie about how his heart hammers. 

“Fuck,” he growls, eyes going tight. 

That’s when he sees it. Blue eyes widen sharply. 

“Love!” John shouts, all other concerns about intruders meaningless to him. Your hand was sticking out from behind the couch, a dark shadow in the low light. He rushes over as you jerk, yelling in alarm as he rushes to grab you, pulling you up into his arms and pulling you away into the closet across the room.

“John!” You blink rapidly as you’re set back against the wall. 

“Shush now,” he grunts, eyes panicked. “Keep awake, let me look.” A hand moves all over your body, searching and pulling at clothes to touch the skin for any wounds. “Tell me where it hurts, then. Quickly. We have to move—”

“John, what the hell,” you push at him, moving him back. Your eyes try to adjust to being so rudely awakened at such an hour. “What are you doing?!”

You weren’t hurt. 

The Captain’s face pulls in with confusion, back against the closet door and now in more darkness than ever before. He can barely make out your face before you sigh and put your hands against his arms. 

Things begin to calm down as his hand rests at your hip, nearly tight enough to bruise. In his other is the gun just before you put your hand to it and softly peel the item away from him—putting it on the shelf that you know is to your left. 

Hands find John’s cheeks as he pants.

“John,” you say his name again. “...what happened.”

“Why were you on the ground?” He forces out firmly, voice a low grunt. “Why were the lights not—”

“The power went out for everyone, okay?” You speak slowly, rubbing your thumbs over his beard. “It was on the news. I didn’t open a window because I knew you would worry about that—the floor was cool and it was getting too hot in here.” 

Your mind tells you to explain quickly and fluently. You move forward and press your forehead into John’s as he sags with a great exhalation of breath—his arms circling you tightly until your spine might crack. 

He doesn’t speak for a long while, just holding you.

“Scared me,” he mutters, missing you deeply on the forehead, speaking into your skin. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

He keeps you to his chest, eyes fluttering shut and his spine hunching over you, fingers splayed over your back. You run your hands through his hair and calm the swelling of your heart.

You can feel his pulse mirroring your own.

Simon Riley ➺

When he sees your hand, he freezes. 

Simon wasn’t a stranger to the lights being off in the home—you opted for lamps and low light more often than not; this wasn’t new. He had only quirked a brow when he came home to the pitch-blackness, off from his recent deployment and eager for a warm bed to fall into. He admits he’d let himself calm down on the car ride home—your home was where he could relax and release tension until it became as unimportant as an ant on the pavement. 

But when he’d closed the door silently behind him and walked the few steps it would take to enter the living room, where he was sure you were still up either reading or watching something on your phone under a blanket, his body had stiffened immediately. 

Your hand sticking out from behind the couch. Limp. 

Lifeless.  

He’d been staring at it for only a few seconds before the memories came back—the ones of gore splattered to the walls and ceiling of an old flat back in Manchester. 

Simon’s thoughts had hit him like a bullet.

Not again.

Rushing forward like a bear, the man slips along the hardwood as his knees go down, shaking the home at the force at which he grabs at your body and flips you from your side to your back. 

You gasp awake and instinctually throw out a fist, connecting with a stone chest as you hiss and blink in panic. 

Fingers ruthlessly dig into your shoulders, wide brown eyes open, and…and afraid. 

“Simon?” You mutter softly, all fear in your heart is squished in an instant. 

The man breathes through wheezes, balaclava fabric moving from the force of his breaths. His fingers are shaking, blinking as his head jerks to look your lying form up and down swiftly. 

You hesitantly put a hand on his cheek and he flinches before nuzzling into it. 

“Don’t…” he takes a quivering breath into his lungs, and after, loosens his grip on your skin. Simon’s hands go to your waist, dragging you up and stapling you to his chest. “Don’t do that again.”

His voice is low. Vulnerable. 

You blink, hands holding him back on the floor. 

“...The power went out,” you try to explain only half of it softly, muffled by his neck. 

He only holds you harder, eyes open and blankly staring at the floor a foot away.

Johnny MacTavish ➺

Johnny hums a song under his breath, hanging his keys on the hook near the door.

“Dearie!” He calls to you loudly, itching at the side of his head and chuckling. “Don’t run too fast to me now, I’m all yours for two w—”

The light switch is moved by his finger, but no light illuminates his path to the living room. Pausing in the entrance, the man’s brows furrow tightly, speech cutting off like scissors to paper. 

“...eeks?” Johnny ends his sentence, turning back around to look at the switch in confusion. “The hell’s going on with that?” He mutters to himself, a frown growing on his face before he refocuses on his mission to find you—now with the added task of figuring out why the power was out in the house. 

“Swear,” the man grumbles, huffing while he runs a hand over his face, “if those kids down the street did something I’ll be livid. Little devils, I swear.” 

Johnny steps farther into the living room, glancing around. 

“Dearie?” He pauses, listening before calling out your name. “Where’s she off to?”

He sighs softly, wanting to hold you now that he’s home to do so—squeeze you in his arms and take in your scent again; he’d missed you immensely while he was away.

Johnny came across your hand sticking out from behind the couch by accident, moving to make his way into your bedroom thinking that you were sleeping. He sees an odd shape in the blackness and pauses, feet slowing to a stop. 

When he notices that it’s a hand—your hand, he doesn’t even realize that he’s completely gripped the side of the couch and wrenched it back until the scratch of the wood floors screams in his ears. 

You wake up to hands on your cheeks, sharp yelling, and your head being shaken up and down until you’re conscious. 

“Dearie, hey! What the fuck,” the last sentence is growled on fast lips. “What the fuck.”

Your hands slap to Johnny’s wrists, nails digging in. 

He breathes out quickly, looking into your eyes to look for dilation as the darkness forces him closer. “There we are, tell me where you’re hurting, now, yeah? Did you hit your head? Let me take a look. It’s okay, I’ll get you all fixed up, there’s no need to worry.”

“Hey!” Your hands push at his, trying to shove the brick wall away from you. “Quit it! Johnny! I’m fine! ”

The man pauses at your animated movements, blinking rapidly before his grip loosens. 

When it’s obvious that you’re perfectly fine, he moves back and groans, thumb and forefinger digging into his nose bridge. 

“Hell’s bells, Hen.” You glare, panting on the floor before you push yourself up. 

“‘Hell’s bells’, me?” Johnny’s head plops to your shoulder. “You just shook me like a fucking rabbit!” 

“Scared the shite out of me, you terror.” The man huffs. “Need to put a heart monitor on you.”

“Piss off,” you sigh, putting a hand to your chest to feel the pace of your pulse and the blood that runs furiously.

Johnny, moments later as he’s still resting on your shoulder, starts…laughing. Low at first, then gaining noise the more it goes unchecked—a deep rumble into chest-jerking amusement. You look down at him, the couch tilted and long scratches over the floor. Pausing, you blink at his shaking shadow before your lungs start quivering. The two of you bend over one another with shared, house-shaking laughter. 

“What the fuck were you doin’ behind the damn couch?” Johnny grabs you close, kissing along your neck as he picks you up, dragging you to your feet. 

“The power went out!” You giggle, chest hurting from the fast gasps of breath as more kisses are spread over your skin. “It was colder down there and I didn’t want to open one of the windows because I knew you’d throw a pouting match about it.”

“Christ, Dearie.” Lips meet your own. “I had half the mind to think you had a heart attack. Nearly gave me one.”

Kyle Garrick ➺

Kyle sighs as he rubs at his jaw, itching the skin and slipping out of his jacket. 

“I’m home, Love!” He says, his voice echoing over the flat. “Want me to start on supper or have you eaten yet?” The man smiles, taking off his cap and putting it on the coat rack, sighing softly. 

It was good to be back. 

Bending down to unlace his boots, he pulls at them until they’re loose enough to slip out of, thumping to their sides on the rug until he reaches out and fixes them. 

“What’s that, then?” He calls into the darkness, not hearing your answer as he quickly checks the time on his phone. “Fuck, it’s late,” Kyle utters to himself. 

Walking into the kitchen, he touches the light switch only to be met with nothing. Pausing, the man’s face pulls in—fingers twitching at his sides as he glances at the window and the moonlight that seeps in to glare along the floor. 

A deep frown takes hold of him, and he looks around once more before backing up.

“...Love?” Kyle wasn’t too concerned—the building wasn’t always the best, and power outages weren’t unheard of. But, damn, if the high of getting off of a deployment didn’t put him in a negative head-space when it came to a change in routine involving you. 

Why weren’t you answering him?

Walking slightly faster into the living room, his hand nearly reaches into his pocket to call your phone if you didn’t end up in any of the rooms—pulse beginning to be infected with a steady injection of adrenaline. 

Brown eyes find your hand behind the couch when they’re about to shift to the open door of your bedroom. A sharp gasp is inhaled instantaneously. 

Kyle races over, grappling to it and pressing his fingers to your neck for a pulse. You softly breathe, none the wiser as you lightly shift and sigh in your sleep; a delicate hum moving out as familiar fingers dig into you. 

It’s through his panic that a thought quickly cuts through the man’s mind. You’d mentioned this before. 

Kyle pauses, just about to loudly wake you. 

‘It gets hot when the power goes out, Kyle, I swear one of these days I’m going to just fall asleep on the floor. At least it’s cool down there.’

Well, the power was out, and, it seemed, you really had fallen asleep on the floor. Now that he thought about it, the flat was running hot—and he also knew that you knew he had gotten nervous of late when you left the windows open at night. 

“Bloody hell,” the man releases a long breath, free hand moving to grip the back of his head. A few seconds later, Kyle chuckles to himself, shaking his head with a small smile. “You are losing it, Mate. Losing it.” 

Without another word, he grips you, and with a grunt, picks you up and takes you to bed, setting you down on the pillows and making sure to leave the sheets off of you so you don’t grow uncomfortable.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead, and you hum in slumber, smiling unconsciously.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Love.” 

He leaves to go make a quick supper of cereal and milk.

[introspectral]

Haunted || open to mutuals

Vision did not sleep. He never did, not even before he was violated by S.W.O.R.D. or terminated by Thanos. At least, not in the traditional or human sense. He did slip into a lower energy state, his mind and central power source performing only basic functions to maintain his body... except for dreams.

These were nonessential exploits of his mind while he was otherwise at rest that, by all indications, were the synthzoidal equivalent of human dreams. Images, emotions, sensations, and thought processes melded together in ways that not always made exact sense, and just as humans sometimes experienced while they dreamed, distress and fear resulted. For just as human minds did, Vision’s own mind reflected upon things which had been the most impactful in his life, the most influential, and sometimes the most traumatizing.

On this particular night, Vision dreamed of Thanos. Of knowing he was approaching, knowing there was no escape, knowing... that there should be no escape. That feeling of despair and yet noble necessity that guided his decision to sacrifice himself. Of seeing the Titan’s hulking form approaching him. A strong hand around his neck. Both feeling and hearing each wire, carbon thread, and swarf-like vibranium bits ripping and snapping, tearing right from his head...

Vision cried out loudly in sheer terror. His eyes opened suddenly and he gasped for air. Vision... also didn’t breathe as humans did, but oxygen and nitrogen intake was a necessity, especially during times of stress. The process mimicked breathing, and right then, Vision appeared to be hyperventilating. There was vulnerable fear in his otherwise beautiful, glowing, blue eyes. His hands trembled, and soon, all of him did. Another rare occurrence since his “rebirth,” Vision felt tears running down his face. He pawed in desperation at his forehead, half expecting to feel a concave crater in it, and only beginning to calm down after he confirmed that he did not.

He’d thought his mind to be solid, to be immune to human ailments such as trauma, PTSD, and... He was forced to call it what it had been: a nightmare. Apparently the memory access that had been restored in his mind was more than merely a collection of residual, archived video files. His subconscious was treating them as far more than that, and it seemed to be terrified of some of them...

[cccat-in-a-meat-sack]

me, with both:...

[blu3b3rryj4mp1r3]

Friendly reminder that "I bought you nice things", "I gave you food and a roof over your head" and "I've never hit/physically hurt you" does not justify emotional abuse, neglect or parentification.

And if when being confronted they make you feel guilty and get defensive and passive aggressive saying some variant of "Oh well I must've been such a terrible parent!" and tell you how they bought you nice things for your birthdays and how your basic needs were met, that does not make your feelings and trauma invalid. You're not a bad person or ungrateful for feeling hurt.

[daffodilmornings]

Anyway, victims of rape deserve a safe space online to vent. We deserve to be open about our feelings, and our hatred and fear is valid as yours is to anything else that has harmed you. Stop silencing rape victims as "radfem man-haters" and listen to them as victims of continuous abuse at the hands of men and a patriarchal society that does not put these men behind bars.

RADFEMS AND TERFS DO NOT TOUCH

[selfship-shinigami]

your F/O would beat the shit out of your abuser, they would absolutely torment your abuser because no one hurts you and gets away with it , in your F/Os eyes your abuser deserves no peace

[punkstylerecovery]

if my body keeps score, will she remember when i grab another blanket to keep her warm? will she remember when i use mobility aids to make things easier for her? will she remember when i put down the blade and take a shower instead? does she recall the days i rest, when i watch our favorite shows and settle in to treat her with all the kindness i'm trying to convince myself we deserve? does she remember the love? does she recall the kindness? does she remember when i run my hands across our wounds and apologize? does she keep score of our healing?

[jackie-gremlin-ghost]

BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS

I know I already gushed about this already, but darn it, I wanna gush again:

Bill having freaking PTSD flashbacks of Stan after all the shit he put the Pines family through is just…

MMMMM THAT’S SOME GOOD CATHARSIS!

[lostmf]

[theultimatenonbinarynerd]

Epic Fandom We Need To Talk! (An Open Letter)

As a former survivor of severe Cyberbullying and harrasment I can no longer stay silent anymore. You have forced my hand.

This has gone way too far and I am massively disappointed. All I ask is that you listen to what I have to say. This is no longer a joke as a survivor of Cyberbullying and harrasment I can say that a misunderstanding has turned into The Epic Fandom putting the livelihood and well being of artists in danger. I ask you to be respectful and understand I am speaking from old wounds and experience. Please don't twist my words, I don't support 🍇 or Antinous he is a horrible character.

Tw: Mentions of Cyberbullying, 🍇 and harassment

Dear Epic Fandom,

You are better then this, I know you are. Polites taught us to greet the world with open arms and accept when people make mistakes and stop holding onto are anger. The fandom is growing and we can't stop it but I'm really disappointed in the people letting hate win and turning the fandom venomous and toxic

We are all Epic Fans but behind the glass on your screen there's a person, a person with feelings who you know nothing about. You all don't know the real Melody typing this but your all probably gonna make assumptions based on what you dont know and that is the danger of being online. The person who posted fanart of Antinous and Telemachus you didn't like, they have real feelings. Complicated messy feelings that aren't able to be articulated enough online.

As a survivor of bullying myself my motto is block or scroll. I myself am very uncomfortable with a lot of the ao3 tags shipping Odysseus with Poseidon or Zeus but do I go angrily type on my keyboard? No I don't cos it's none of my damnn business. When I saw that art, I was confused and uncomfortable but instead of being reckless and sentimental I asked for clarification. Taking Polites advice I used open arms and talked about what was bothering me without attacking the artist. Instead of being like Polites you all became Poseidon. Ruthlessness Is Mercy is not the way to go, it's a toxic way to go about life. Did you all not listen to that Thunder Saga and see how it destroyed everything Odysseus had known for the past thirteen years.

You should all be absolutely ashamed of yourself. This is not what the Epic Fandom should be. You don't like someone's fan art ask for clarification and or block. There is no need to be Ruthless and cruel. The fact two genuine heartfelt Apologises have been made and you still can't let it go very much clearly shows your character. You are very much like Poseidon and Zeus and should be ashamed. In Ares words you are all sick cowards. Not only that but you are clearly projecting. I suggest you go to therapy if you think your time in the Epic the musical fandom should be spent bullying and harassing people then leave. The number one rule is that there is always a person behind the screen and that you should think before you type.

I'm still not over the fact how you have twisted and triggered someone's truama. I also can't believe hate is being given after the artist mentioned her experience. 🍇 is not a thing to weaponise. I feel like the Wisdom Saga has made you far too comfortable in how you handle and discuss 🍇. The artist forgot her trigger warnings and wasn't even trying to imply the twisted image you put on her. Also I pointed out she shouldn't have tagged it Epic and apologied. Jorge has made adaptations to The Odssey a piece of fiction. What Jorge has done with Antinous is his own creative liberties. If you can't have sensitive and respectful conversation about something that is still happening to people I don't know what to say. Accusing someone of supporting 🍇 is not okay at all. The artist wasn't attending that way and understands she shouldn't have done what she did but it goes both ways. Look for context before you slam. Judging someone based on an honest mistake and huge misunderstanding is dangerous and cruel. Do you not understand the dangers this could put the artist in in real life. Please have open arms and think before you type. This is a serious topic and not a joke.

Moving on I want to talk about why I think this blew up so bad. It's because Elian was commissioned to do an animatic for Jorge. Listen you all would have blocked if it wasn't for that. I read comments saying they idolised her and that is a really f**** dangerous thing to do. Idiolising someone because they've been noticed or hired by Jorge isn't healthy at all. At the end of the day we are all human beings. Elian is allowed to make mistakes and grow. Outside of Epic this is becoming a massive problem in genuine.

Worse I've seen and heard about Artists like Mirscy and AnniFlamma getting attacked just for defending their friend. I'm sorry are we not allowed to defend our friends now from bullying? I can't speak for them but if I saw my friend getting hated and harassed on I'd be angry too, it's like a natural emotion to feel. Then again you are the same fandom that mocks Eurylochus for sticking up for his crew so I'm not suprised. These artists are human beings and not God's because Jorge noticed and appreciated their work. Stop twisting these artists into people there not.

I'm not Tiresias but I can see Jorge stopping collaborating with artists on animatics if you keep this disgusting behaviour up. Constructive criticism is okay but falsely twisting the image of an artist is not okay at all by doing this you are dehumanising artists and doing exactly what Hollywood does. Jorge will have to stop commissioning people it you keep using the fact he noticed them against them when they make mistakes like all human beings do.

Please do better and stop being Poseidons. An 8 year grudge was unhealthy and got him nowhere. Be more like Polites and Greet The World with open arms. Not everything is black and white. Tik Tok built the Epic Fandom up and you hold all the power.

Stay kind and great the world the world with open arms.

Yours Sincerely,

Melody

They/Them

Ps: If you send me hate and twist my words be warned I have friends as well. One particular friend was there when a lot of my Cyberbullying truama happened and is aware why this has triggered me so badly and caused an episode.

Attack you will be blocked. I'll also remove reblogs.

Attack and you will be reported.

You don't scare me.

Be nice Epic Fandom and don't become The Monster. I'm willing to have civil conversations but that's it.