#when most of my energy goes to not killing myself

[feathers-little-nest]

.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

smth smth about 'the thing that the character did that you thought was rly rly funny in the moment is actually linked to a terrible trauma that lies within said character.' or wahtever.

[local-diavolo-anon]

i'm back!

ok so 2/3 days ago i found this youtube video where op turned Springtrap (or well, William Afton) into a fully build DnD character, and if i say so myself: things got out of hand fast

so here is my take on DnD Springtrap and specifically on that build (adding more infos under the cut for who is interested, i suggest to watch the video first)

starting with saying that unless you're playing in a scifi setting, this build is either not for you or to be modified, since in later levels spells are heavily centered around technomagic and electronic devices; personally when i will play him i will probably tinker around with the chosen spells and cantrips to make him less violently niche and/or more versatile

which kinda saddens me because it takes away not little of the characterization but, given most dnd stories take place in a medieval fantasy or high fantasy setting, a cantrip like On/Off or a spell like Remote Access are NOT particularly useful; so i will go for more psychic damage or necromancy oriented abilities, maybe i might take more than just 4 levels in artificier as well (especially given that again, all of those warlock spells at later levels are all technology oriented) but i need to see what those offer

however it is a kinda tank-y build given that with a shield on you can get up to a 27 of Ac, so even with low damage and not much hp you would not struggle too much to stay alive, and i like that!

as for the character himself, i put too much effort into my interpretation not to share it, so if anyone wants to play this guy as well, i fabricated a possible backstory that might come useful:

The character goes by the name "Dave Miller" (or whatever variant you want to use), and was originally a human artificier who created constructs for a living, mainly with the goal of offering aid to who needed it for whatever reason.

There however he ran into an issue, that being that a robot need a power source, and his own heart and lungs could not sustain a whole robot by themselves.

After losing part of his family to some kind of accident he became terrified of death, so with age he started replacing his own body parts with machinery to delay his last days (which made him a cyborg), until the point where he was very very close to become just a robot.

(This part may or may not involve a pact with a deity of death, this entirely depends on how you want to play him but it would make sense since the build is an artificier/warlock hybrid)

Through particular and very much not illegal experiments tied to necromancy he discovered that the life force of a living being could be shared, and used as a form of fuel. (possibly: age lived of the creature used= amount of extra months you get)

Here comes the second problem: this only worked with intelligent creatures, and more specifically, it worked best with creatures of your own race, which meant that he either went around murdering people or he found another solution. Non same-race creatures worked as well but not as good and there were not easy to find in the middle of a city and with a shop tied to your name.

And here is where and WHY he'd join a party of adventurers: after some time, his reserves or fuel were running VERY thin, and running into a group of adventurers was a god sent because by joining their party he essentially got a free pass to kill whoever he wanted, and reduce them to a dried raisin after sucking some life force out of them. Doing so you learn that the mowe powerful the creature is, the more energy it produces as well.

Your goal, that you as the player are following, when role-ing your character? essentially slay whatever powerful BBEG your Dm throws at you and suck all of that juicy fuel out of them, so that you can return to your little shop in the middle of the capital and return to create and sell whatever weird construct, doll, or robot comes to your mind for another few decades undisturbed.

And this is it. I think this might be a good backstory that could fit pretty much any setting you want to play this guy into, be it classic dnd or some scifi futuristic thing.

of course you don't NEED to use this one line per line, make up your own without looking back if you don't like it lol, dnd is the "make up shit and have fun" game after all!

Edit: also no his outfit makes no sense, i just went with vibes and decided a tanktop dress shirt, a twin tailed gilet and suspenders OVER said gilet was a good choice.

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“���Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

[arainmorn-art]

Okay, on the topic of artstyle let me say something about Ace Attorney Investigations. Edgey there looks so much prettier than in the original trilogy.

Take a look at this ugly ass ear in the original and refined pretty ear in AAI, for example, and a more precise lines for neck muscles. Nothing to say about much more competent shading and lineart.

It's still cool to see how original trilogy's artstyle was clearly influenced by oldschool anime with its expressions and especially proportions.

And that's where AAI struggles the most.

While I love Edgeworth's face in Investigations, his body proportions are killing me. Original trilogy gave him cupboard wide shoulders and yaoi shovel hands, BUT IT WORKED as Edgeworth's head was also more stylised.

It DOESN'T WORK when you draw Edgeworth in a semi-realistic style. And as a professional artist myself I guess, that at first Edgworth's shoulders were drawn in normal human proportions until there weren't some artdirection notes to redraw them in this laughably bad way.

How could I know? Because the gorgeous motherflipping Lang was drawn from scratch with proportions of an athletic wide-shouldered man - and this bs wasn't happening!

The same goes to Badd. He is very wide, but he doesn't look unnatural.

Come on, guys, Edgey already gave a flirty bottom energy near this hot mess, wider shoulders woud not help his twinkiness.

Ahem. Also, jeez, can we appreciate the way how masterful the drawings of hands are?

And this von Karma. Goddamit. Even if I am very vanilla, this is some hot daddy dom material. The facial structure, the precise shading, the detailes, the wrinkles, the hair, the smirk, the stare, daaaaaaaaaaamn that's a sexy drawing.

While here he looks like a f*cking toad.

That was my TED talk, thank you for reading.

[angelsknifeprty]

streamer!ellie hcs ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a/n: this is more focused on ellie and less on ellie x reader but i am for sure gonna follow this up with something else more focused on the both of you >:3

warnings | mentions of weed, the smallest hint towards struggling with eating if you squint

word count: 698

do not buy tlou | ways to help palestine | operation olive branch | keep eyes on sudan | haiti’s history | learn about congo

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ started off posting unlisted videos of her playing games with the stupidest, shittiest editing ever for you and her friends to watch and later decided to give streaming a try

‎ ‧₊˚౨ৎ starts off her twitch channel as a faceless streamer but does a face reveal when she hits a big milestone

‧₊˚౨ৎ has the creeper mini fridge for sure!!

‧₊˚౨ৎ has a ginger cat named garfield that she exclusively calls garfunkel on stream because her viewers made fun of her for garfield being too unoriginal

“guys, what do you mean it’s unoriginal, look at him. that’s literally garfield, the real deal. you’re all haters.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ plays a bunch of different games: minecraft obviously, fortnite, roblox (and argues with kids on there, you can’t tell me any different). also loves fnaf, elder scrolls and resident evil

‧₊˚౨ৎ more on her liking resident evil, i think she’s not super wimpy when it comes to games like that but she HATES the regenerators from the re4 remake (i’m totally not projecting…)

“i am NOT a wimp, but look at their freaky fucking arms!! and they have gross little butts too, that was not a necessary choice for the character design.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ she does find it funny when she kills them and they jiggle as they fall on the ground though

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ i’m throwing it in here that she smokes weed because i simply cannot help myself teehee :P

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she does more chill streams of her eating n stuff as a way of comforting her viewers so they can eat along with her )):

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ and in turn chat always spams her with comments to drink water because that girl survives purely on energy drinks to combat her sleepy girl syndrome

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ abuses the soundboard so heavily, loves using a sound effect of an audience clapping and cheering when she tells the most painfully unfunny joke

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she is ABSOLUTELY a jerma985 fan

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ loves putting her fans on blast and reacting to edits of her on stream and finds it so funny (especially the ones that have the reverb fart noise just randomly slapped in there, she thinks it’s peak humour)

“you guys think i don’t see this stuff? i have eyes everywhere. y’know what though, you guys are actually really talented.”

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ wears stupid t-shirts that say stuff like “i paused my game to be here” (omg i just found one that says “gamers make better lovers, they know all the right buttons” she would absolutely wear that)

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she wears her silly t-shirts with pride and has the audacity to ask chat to rate how hard her fit goes

therealher0brine: BOOOOOO 🍅🍅🍅 0/10

elliebellie69: i beg that you don’t leave the house in that /lh  (╥﹏╥)

gnarpgnarp500: never beating the loser lesbian allegations i fear…

“guys you’re just not seeing the vision, sorry that you’re not this cool.”

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ oh my gosh she is OBSESSED with the little ikea alien, she has multiple of them in her room. she keeps one on her desk and when she sometimes doesn’t know what to say she’ll just hold it up super close to the camera and make incoherent high pitched babbling sounds

smelliams420: omg cancelled you can’t say that dude…

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ gets her viewers to send in clips and she’ll do high try not to laugh streams and fails miserably because she has the dumbest sense of humour ever. she’ll blame it entirely on the herb though as if her reaction wouldn’t be near enough the same when she’s sober

‧₊˚౨ৎ will occasionally play guitar on stream and she’ll sing too if you catch her in the right mood. she’s a bit awkward about it so it doesn’t happen often cuz she hates messing up and always makes a way bigger deal about it than necessary

“fuck- no wait, i was just messing with you. that fuck up was on purpose, shut up,” and her cheeks are flushed bright red as she tries to brush it off and compose herself before trying again

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ loves to get sidetracked and info dumps about stuff she is far too knowledgeable on

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ in conclusion, loser ellie supremacy

a/n: raghhh i love streamer els with my whole heart !!! i’m gonna eat her (˶˃⤙˂˶) anyways i hope you enjoyed, k bye mwah! >3< ♡

[magnificentstrawberryomen]

scariness & comfort of feeling (noah sebastian x reader one shot)

For everyone who goes through rough times rn, with also extra smily Noah. <3

“It feels like i haven’t seen you in ages.”

Noah’s words makes my head snap up from my phone, meeting his gaze. The small smile that is curled around his lips is warm, but his dark brown eyes look at me worried. I sigh, putting my phone inside the pocket of my hoodie in front and shrug.

“Yeah, sorry. Been busy,” I mumble, my eyes flicking down to his soft sheets of his bed that I’m sitting on. He joins me, sitting close next to me, his body turned just enough to face me well, feeling him studying my facial expressions—and I hate it, making my cheeks flush by shame, awkwardness and fluttery.

He knows me long enough to know that something is going on.

“Busy with what?” Noah asks me, his voice still gentle yet also letting me know that he sees right through me. I sigh once again, just deeper this time, more frustrated, feeling myself heat up more and more by his stare undressing my every secret and emotion.

“Just… my head. I guess. Thinking. Surviving.”

He nods slowly, pursing his lips a bit, his eyes then ranking down to my oversized hoodie, hiding my small body. I begin to tug at the sleeves a bit, feeling exposed underneath his gaze—and he knows that.

“I’m sorry things are going backwards for you again, y/n.”

I slightly frown, trying to brush off the truth with a small, soft laugh, as if he is overreacting. He is not. “What? Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah?” he taunts me, his voice now sounding less warm, more worried, but also frustrated with worries for his best friend. “Y/n, you’re almost drowning in that hoodie.”

“You know I like oversized clothes, especially hoodies.”

“Yes, but this is insane.”

“What do you mean, insane?!” I snap, my brows furrowing deeper, my nostrils flaring as anger, but mostly defeat frustration comes up, going all the way to my throat to slightly squeeze it by sad emotion as well. I know he’s right. “I’ll be fine, Noah. Always made it through.”

“Yeah, but for how long though?” he then fires back, his voice slightly rising, his face now dropping in raw emotions of worry, sadness, and anger for the current situation I can’t seem to get out of. “It kills me to see you like this, and that you don’t get the help you need, you deserve. It’s insane that you have to do this all on your own, and I get the energy that gets pulled out of you by that, and not being able to handle almost anything or anyone—but pushing me away won’t get you anywhere, ‘cause I actually want to help you. Please, y/n, stop resisting me and tell me how I can help!”

Noah’s loud words echo around through his bedroom walls, bouncing right into my ears, making their way into my mind and leaving me speechless for a moment. I blink, a shuddering breath escaping my lips for a moment as my heart pounds louder into my chest, a knot of shame, anger and sadness appearing into my stomach and chest. But most of all, the feeling of helplessness and loneliness, being pulled out of the depths of my soul and getting unlocked by Noah just like that, after successfully being able to hide it away for so long.

And then, I just start sobbing, hiding my face in my trembling hand in shame, my cheeks flushing even more. I hate crying, showing emotion and being vulnerable, but Noah pulls me into a tight hug right away, making me wrap my arms around his strong but warm body—feeling safe yet terrified at the same time, as my deepest emotions flush out my squeezed shut eyes, my forehead leaning on one of his shoulders, my cries muffled by his own hoodie he is wearing.

His tattooed hand gently rubs my back, his chin placed on my hair, and when I then feel him press a loving, soft kiss on it my chest gets replaced by a tight tug of warmth and flutters, the knot in my stomach slowly loosening.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his hand then going up to my hair being held together in a low bun, his fingers caressing though my roots in a gentle way, “let it out. It’s insane that you hold it in so much for such a long time. It’s healthy and much more relieving to let it be there, to progress it all, both for your mind and body.”

“It’s scary,” I sniff in response, knowing his words are true, but sounding like a terrifying taks for me. “Letting it in, letting the emotions be there, be real, overwhelming me… it’s horrifying. I have no control and it’s horrifying.”

“I know,” Noah softly whispers, pressing yet another gentle kiss on my head before we then slowly let go, and he brushes a loose strand of hair out of my face and behind my ear as his eyes look at me comfortably, lovingly and calm—easing the storm inside of me much more than anything else could the past months. Having someone in front of you, caring for you on such a deep level, immediately makes a difference for me, making it easier for me to breathe again, the rope around my neck that got tighter and tighter with each day passing slowly loosening up.

“And if you want to, and if you tell me how, I can try to make it less complicated and scary for you. Make it comfortable and easier. And I came prepared, actually.” His lips slowly curl up, as he then stands up and leaves the room for a moment, the twinkle in his eyes promising me that everything is okay and he’ll be right back.

After a minute of two curiously fidgeting with the ends of the sleeves of my hoodie, Noah comes back again with two ice cream cups of my favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor, making my face instantly light up as a breathless, surprised laugh escapes my lips.

“Told you,” he grins, as he then hands me a spoon and sits down as well. “You praise this flavor so much that I of course have to try as well.”

I warmly and thankfully smile at him, and for the first time since months things indeed feel less scary and dark—the two of us together like this warming my scarred heart.

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

I just read the article you posted a while back about TB (heads up- it said the gift article link has lapsed or some such). Did J&J ‘evergreen’ (be allowed to be evil) or was it allowed to become generic?

Relatedly, how do you manage empathy fatigue? I deal with OCD too and it screams at me that I have to care about and do all the things all at once. How do you choose where to put your time and energy?

(Also, when I get the coffee subscription for my husband’s birthday, which version should I get?)

For me empathy fatigue sets in when I careen my attention from this crisis to that one to the next one to the one after that, always feeling overwhelmed by each emerging problem but never having the time or attention to devote myself to one problem or another.

I'll give you an example. In 2014, a horrific ebola epidemic swept through Guinea, Liberia, and Sierra Leone. The world paid attention to it. Everyone was talking about it. And then .... it ended. At least in the global imagination. Money dried up. The world moved on to the next crisis.

That's not to say the next crisis wasn't important. It was important. But in Sierra Leone, the ebola crisis wasn't really over even after people stopped contracting ebola. 15% of Sierra Leone's healthcare workers had been killed by ebola, and the already fragile healthcare system plummeted into what one Sierra Leonean physician described to me as "a state of collapse."

And so the crisis remained a crisis even after the world's attention shifted. 1 in 17 women in Sierra Leone were dying in childbirth. Over 10% of kids born died before the age of five. Tuberculosis killed thousands every year despite curative treatment being available.

And this is when Hank and I finally, belatedly realized that responding to crises in the news was not adequate. Instead, we would need to commit the kind of long-term attention and long-term support that long-term crises demand. This means making difficult choices--there is also high maternal and child mortality in countries other than Sierra Leone, but we choose to focus on Sierra Leone because we see an opportunity to make a difference, because the government is serious if limited in its commitment to improving healthcare and educational opportunities, and because we had to make a choice or else we would be overwhelmed by the many causes.

What about the other causes? Well, we trust people to work on those causes. We believe in their importance. And we support their work by doing ours as well as we can, and trusting they are doing theirs as well as they can. I still get overwhelmed. I still get depressed. But I find that the deeper I go into my particular areas of interest--global healthcare delivery, health care accessibility, ending TB, fighting maternal mortality--the better I feel personally, and the more good I feel like I'm able to do.

2. Johnson & Johnson has not abandoned their secondary patents on bedaquiline but they have committed to allow generics to be available in most countries, even those where the secondary patents apply. Unfortunately this deal leaves out many countries that need generic bedaquiline, including Ukraine, which is absolutely unacceptable. So progress has been made, but the progress (as is so often the case) is inadequate. The fight goes on.

[phaticserpent]

I wonder if you have any headcanons or dribbles of Ultron with a pregnant reader?

👀 the way I'd be pregnant for this man (I'm terrified of pregnancy and childbirth)

Warning: mentions of pregnancy (?) Child labor

He is the absolute best at everything.....i mean,it's Ultron

He makes sure he does research in every single area for pregnancy; he needs to make sure he stays informed with everything

Handles you gently and carefully; he is at your side whenever you need him

Either will be understanding of your pregnancy cravings and bring them to you, OR makes a healthier alternative option for you. No in-between

"I want chocolate...."

"Chocolate isn't good for you or the baby"

"I want chocolate."

"Okay, I'll get you chocolate" He gets everything in chocolate; chocolate ice cream, chocolate milkshake, chocolate anything for the entire day until you want another craving

Makes sure all the sharp edges in the house/apartment are child proofed, he doesn't want you bumping into them and getting into an accident

Carries you around with no complaint or struggles; heck, you wouldn't even need to get out of bed with him around

Will be putting on Mozart or Beethoven for the fetus to listen to

"It's good for them, they'll be smart like you."

You don't have to worry about any chores: the house? Clean within a blink and no traces of dust. The garbage? Taken care of, you don't even need to ask

Makes sure you're okay and comfortable; whenever you express hints of pain, he'll definitely panic and get into doctor-mode

"I have some great names picked out, if you haven't thought of any yet."

"Babe, I'm only on my second term."

"Can't be too prepared."

Cute dates with him like movie nights but the couch is just as comfortable as a bed; he has soft blankets and pillow all around

When it comes to later in the pregnancy, he's super anxious; he makes double the portion size that he would usually make

Will accompany you to the bathroom in the middle of the night, it doesn't matter, he will start fussing if you don't wake him up

"I don't want to bother you...."

"Nonsense. Bother me, your safety is not a hindrance for me. My system shut down is more insignificant"

"Babe, please."

Obviously he won't go inside and respects your privacy, but he will stand outside the door just in case

If you have work and your boss is being an incompetent fool, I know for sure that Ultron would fight with him via email

Ultron would grumble, ".....pathetic, what kind of nincompoop wouldn't give maternity leave? I hope his business burns and he goes bankrupt....."

You'd snicker at his use of vocabulary

And then the time arrives,

"....Ultron....."

"Hm?"

"I think it's happening....."

Immediate panic; he obviously handles everything, he calls his sentries and all that is needed to start the procedure

He doesn't really trust human doctors, plus he wants to be there next to you for the moment. He would be the most attentive doctor/medical personnel - the procedure and labor would be a major success!

He would also treat you to whatever you wanted after. To him, the first priority is your well-being after something so energy inducing/exhausting, then the attention would go to the baby (of course, he would place the baby in your arms before giving you attention you need)

He would definitely take care of the child so you could get the rest you need and deserve

At first, he would be too terrified to handle the baby....even if he knows how and the proper care for it - he's terrified of the idea of rejection from the baby, he doesn't want it to be afraid of him

However, the baby did not care at all. It babbled incoherently and reached out for Ultron, placing its tiny hands on his cheek to feel the coolness of the metal

"......this baby, I would kill for it." Ultron smiled. I only had them for a day and a half, but if anything happened, I would kill everyone and then myself type

He's good with kids, to an extent

[punmasterbaku]

Welcome to ME DRABBLING ABOUT A NEW AU IDEA "UnderPressure"

As the name states, this will be a crossover of Undertale and Pressure. With playing through the game a few times and reading documents, I thought to come up with this idea before anyone hopefully. This au in particular goes moreso through the pressure story set up but with small twists of my own.

That being Sebastian will still be there to help out and give advice. However its more my version of Sebastian / theories I personally have on the character alone.

With that being said let me give a small hint of the characters...

Crossovers:

Nightmare = Void Mass [ Appearance of half his corrupted self and other more voided mass of tentacles. Dark turquoise instead of purple to fit his negative energy]

Ink = Squiddle [ Has a squid like body covered in ink and dripping paint from his eye sockets. The expressions being different colours when flashed or close by]

Killer = Anglerfish [ Different stages of his soul represent the different variant of Anglerfish that are within the game. A light on his head and black streaks down his face. Gills can be seen on his neck and small scales across his bones. Stage 1. Angler with White Light | Stage 2. Blitz , Fast and hyper with a Blue Light and slowly developing tar like tears | Stage 3. Froger, very fast and more aggressive, has a light brown bulb with more hate pouring out his eyes and can rebound back and forth a few times before leaving. | Stage 4. Mutli-Monster, The highest stage and extremely aggressive, WILL INSTANT KILL and leave 5 seconds to hide. Light shines a DARK RED, hate pouring from eyes and mouth also is very fast. This stage is rare to see...]

Dust = Wall-Dweller [ A sneaky and silent individual who creeps behind the mains. He is seen with no arms, face covered with a metal like plate and hoodie covering most of his body. His back when exposed reveals the many holes and smoky texture as a side effect of the mutation.

Error = p.AI.nter [ Takes form of a computer like AI that has complete control over the Blacksite networks, CCTV footage and other machines including the Turrets. His proper appearance can be seen of him floating with a computer like head when interacting with the main characters trying to help ]

Swap = GoodPeople [ Deranged and mangle of bones kinda like an Amalgamates. Some bones melting into the floor and walls around them like a spider thread. He has a small mask over his face to cover the melting appearance he possesses after the experimentation]

Horror = Eyefestation [ Due to the mutation, his height spikes larger and more creepy with eyes scattering his body and inside the crack he wields on his head. The original eyes, having either completely disappeared or one with the crack. Who knows which one is his real one ]

Cross and Dream as the Protagonists of this AU, being the ones who are running through the facility.

THATS ALL FN, if you are looking forward to learning more feel free to ask and will eventually update more about this au once more has been written. Its a small project but love to see who else is interested.

PS: if you are wanting to join in with ideas feel free to let me know or even come up with designs, just tag me and will have a look for myself TEHE.

[infiniteeight8]

Desperate for those final few Can’t Find Out! So excited! So here is a prompt for one of them!

I'm sorry I made everyone wait so long for this! It's, like, three weeks past when it came up in my queue. But it needed some extra brain energy, so I had to wait for the right moment. I hope it lives up to expectations!

Edit: As usual, I forgot to link the rest of the series. Here it is: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3953044

-

Tony has brought Stephen food again. Not just take out, this time; Stephen is almost certain that Tony made this pasta himself. Possibly a family recipe. Tony hadn’t said so, but he was masking nervousness when he handed it over, and when Stephen made an involuntary noise of appreciation at the first mouthful, Tony had looked pleased in a way that you just didn’t when you were supplying take out.

The take out itself had been inappropriate, given their dynamics and mating status. This meal… This meal would be grounds for bond dissolution in some places. God only knew what Pepper thought of it; Stephen was certain that Tony hadn’t been hiding anything from her. Most likely, she’d rolled her eyes at Tony’s blithe disregard of social mores. 

Stephen, for his part, has long since abandoned any shame he’d once felt for accepting these gestures as if they were real. What harm does it do to pretend for a moment that Tony is courting him? Stephen is the only one who knows, and he’s careful to accept, but not respond. 

“That was incredible,” Stephen says when he’s wiped up the last of the sauce with a bit of bread and finished that off, too. 

Tony still has food in front of him; he’s been watching Stephen eat. “Thanks,” he says. “It’s been years since I made it; I was a little afraid it wouldn’t come out right.”

He had made it himself. “Years? Why so long?”

“Busy, mostly,” Tony says. Stephen waits, because it seems like there’s more to it. “The longer I went without making it,” Tony eventually goes on, “the more it seemed like I should save it for a special occasion.”

Stephen’s mouth goes dry. “I guess you gave up on that.”

Tony shakes his head. 

Oh God. Stephen knew he should have cut all contact after Thanos. He was going to tear Tony’s life apart without even trying, how could he have been so selfish? “Tony—”

“Have I ever told you how Pepper and I got bonded?” Tony breaks in.

Stephen snaps his mouth shut. “No.” He doesn’t particularly want to hear this story, but he probably deserves to.

“I had this big interview scheduled,” Tony says. “We were in the green room getting ready. Pepper was going over this endless list of questions with me. What they’d probably ask, things we’d told them were off limits, that sort of thing.” He pauses and Stephen nods for him to go on, confused. This doesn’t sound like a romantic story. “Probably three quarters of the questions on the list—expected and banned—were about my relationship status. I was supposed to be talking about Iron Man and clean energy and the expansion of SI’s medical technology division and all they wanted to know was who I was dating and what I wanted out of a marriage." Tony snorted. “So I complain to Pepper, of course, and she says, ‘At least they don’t shut you out of meetings because unmated omegas are ‘volatile.’” Stephen winces. He’s heard that one, too. Tony continues, “So I say, ‘Hey, if we got bonded, we could kill two birds with one stone.’”

Stephen waits for a long minute for the story to continue, but Tony just waits. “I… don’t understand,” Stephen says. He can’t understand. It can’t be what it sounds like. His heart starts pounding anyway.

“Stephen, Pepper and I were never a love match,” Tony says carefully. “We’re friends, but we got bonded for the convenience of our careers, not because we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. I don’t consider myself mated, and neither does she.”

It feels like the world has dropped away from Stephen, like he might have accidentally slipped out of phase with reality. “But you love Pepper,” he says helplessly. “Fourteen million futures, Tony. I know you love Pepper.”

“Yeah, I do,” Tony affirms. “She’s my best friend. She’s been with me through everything. Of course I love her. I’d be wrecked if I lost her.” He had been, more than once, in those futures. “But that doesn’t mean our relationship is romantic. We’ve never seen each other that way.”

Stephen looks at his empty plate. He touches the edge of it with a trembling hand. “A special occasion, you said.”

Tony smiles. “Well. I’ve never initiated a courtship before.” He pauses for a long moment, then smirks. “Unless you’re still carrying a torch for your mystery alpha.”

That smirk. Stephen laughs—maybe just a little too sharply—and shakes his head. “When did you figure it out?”

“Not me,” Tony admits. “Pepper.”

“Of course it was Pepper,” Stephen sighs. He really should have been more discreet around her, but it’s hard to regret it now.

Tony stands and comes around the Sanctum’s kitchen table, standing next to Stephen and holding out both of his hands. Stephen pushes back from the table and takes Tony’s hands, letting the alpha pull him to his feet. Tony’s grip is gentle, but not at all tentative. 

“So what do you say?” Tony asks. “You’ve already had god knows how many lifetimes with me. You up for one more?”

As if there was any doubt. “Always.” 

Tony pulls him into a kiss, and Stephen finally comes home.

[licorice-tea]

Would you ever so kindly write 10.Kaku + O. Kabedon? Have it so bad for this giraffe man <3 uhh,, he's so old fashioned and precious. Looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you vibes, for real

Let Me Prove Myself

Pairing: Kaku x reader

Content: kaku is just a little suspicious, and a little intimidating kind of? but in a hot way. kaku calls the reader pretty and lovely, gender nuetral pronouns for reader, strawhat reader, kabedon ofc!

Word Count: 1k

A/N: quite literally wrote this between 4 and 5 am, so i apologize for anything that doesn’t make sense or sounds off😓but anyway i am such a kaku lover omg that’s literally my man (one of them), ty for the request <3

Some of your crew mates went to find someone who could fix your ship, the Going Merry, while others were off exploring the city. You had opted to venture off on your own, wanting to enjoy the scenery and culture of this grand island with fewer distractions that usual.

Navigating through the streets with no destination in mind, you end up in a sort of alleyway. It leads you out closer to the shoreline, and provides you with a picturesque view of some of the lower levels of the city accompanied by slow rolling ocean waves.

“So pretty,” you mumble to nobody in particular.

“Sure is.”

Your head nearly whips around to find the source of the voice. Were you being followed this entire time? Though you’d been under the impression that the people of Water 7 took kindly to most pirates, that didn’t mean there weren’t other sinister forces within the city… Perhaps should’ve been more careful, or stayed on the boat with Zoro.

Alas, you don’t see anyone in the direction from which you came, so you turn back slowly. Maybe you were imagining things.

You gasp and step back when you’re met face to face with a man who definitely hadn’t been there before. He’s tall, and has an unusually long and squarish nose. “It fits him, though.” you think. In fact, he’s a really attractive guy. But you can’t allow that to overpower your common sense, nor let your guard down. You make a mental note to not, under any circumstances, let your attraction get the better of you.

He takes your silence as an opportunity to explain himself. “I don’t mean to frighten you,” he steps closer as you take another step back, “you're not from around here, are you?”

“No… I’m not.” You raise your chin and cross your arms over your chest. “Were you following me?”

He laughs. “Well, when you put it like that it makes me sound like a bad guy.”

“Well I wouldn’t know what kind of guy you are, stranger.” Go

“Kaku,” he extends his hand, “and what’s your name if you don’t mind my asking?”

Ever so cautiously, you take his hand and shake it once. “Y/n.”

“Y/n. That’s lovely.”

“Um… thanks.”

Taking notice of your squared shoulders and general uncomfortable energy, Kaku takes another step toward you. Naturally you take another step backward, but you don’t realize you’re standing right in front of one of the walls of the alleyway you’d come out of until it hits your back. You inhale sharply.

“I have no ill intentions, y/n, I can assure you. I just…” he looks you up and down, not trying to hide his wandering eyes in the slightest. “Well, I’d never seen you around before and found myself eager to meet you. You’re awful pretty, y’know.”

The feeling seems to be mutual, but you intend to bury your own even deeper. “I- um-“

“So, are you by chance a pirate?”

Your eyes grow wider and you silently shake your head “no.”

Kaku chuckles and nonchalantly places a hand on the wall behind you. The other goes to his hip as he leans over you. You’re unsure if he’s trying to block off one of your two escape routes to either side, or is this is his attempt at charming you. “You don’t have to lie, y/n, I’m no bounty hunter. Nor a pirate hunter like your crew mate, Zoro.”

“You know Zoro?”

“Sure do. I inspected you all’s ship just a few minutes ago while he was there keeping watch. He was wary of me at first, and rightfully so considering we’d never met, but he seems like a swell guy.”

A relieved exhale visibly leaves your chest as your shoulders drop slightly. The fact that he knows one of your crew, and hasn’t talked ill of him, brings you some comfort.

“But that’s not important right now. I’m here to talk about you.”

“What about me?”

“Whatever you’re willing to tell me. I want to get to know you. I’m very interested, if I’m not making it obvious enough.”

You nearly giggle, but contain your laughter behind a smile. “No, you are.”

Feeling emboldened by your shy smile, Kaku removed his other hand from his hip and places it on the wall behind you. You glance to your side at it, and he walks forward into the half step that remains between your two bodies, bending his arms so that his forearms are entirely against the wall instead of his hands alone. Kabedon.

And when you turn forward again, you’re barely an inch away from his face. Or his nose, rather.

He speaks softly, but in the same old fashioned and all too-proper tone. “Have you ever been with a shipwright, y/n?”

You shake your head “no” again.

“Would you like to be?”

“Oh, well… my- my crew is probably only going to be here a few days, so…”

“Ah… so if the circumstances were different?”

“I might say yes.”

“Mhm… You see, I don’t mind these circumstances one bit. Are they a deal breaker for you?”

“I guess not.” You bite your lip with nervous excitement.

“Good.” He flashes you a bright smile and steps back a respectable distance.

Though you don’t mean to, your disappointment shows in your features.

Kaku notices- he seems to notice a lot about you- and chuckles. “Were you expecting something more just then?”

Truthfully, you were. If he had kissed you, you would have welcomed it with open arms (and lips.) You don’t say any of that though, just laugh awkwardly as your face heats up.

“I’m a gentleman, y/n. It’d be sleazy to try anything with you when we’ve only just met.”

“Oh,” you nod, finding his constitution respectable despite wishing he had been sleazy enough to try something, “right…”

“How about you let me take you out to an early dinner? I’d like to prove myself first.”

“What do you need to prove yourself to be worthy of?”

“You.”

You smile as Kaku offers you his arm, and your initial resolution to not let your guard down around him is almost entirely forgotten as you take it.

[always-is-always]

Jimin's eyes..... You know..... that thing when a person's eyes don't quite match the smile....

There is a sadness in him. I felt it as soon as I saw the OT7 photo this morning, and couldn't shake it. At first I thought it was my own stuff bubbling up, as I miss him.... but it isn't. I've looked at the photo several times today, to check myself and to feel the energy and listen to what I'm being shown.

The military experience is hard for him. Just as it is for Jungkook. They both hinted at it, in their letters to ARMYs... They are stationed and working in a different environment from the others. We all know that.

Sure, Jimin looks really good outwardly. He's physically strong, holds himself with confidence, and on the outside it looks like all is well... And, that hug that he gave Jin and Tae.... gosh, that was the most heartfelt hug that I have seen him give, perhaps ever. It was an embrace. A full-on Heart-based embrace... 🤧

Even though I have written about how I believe that this time in the military is good for them (taking them out of the public eye), I also have to say that I am keenly aware of the hardships that come with the experience, too. I honestly think that it is the most difficult for Jimin and Jungkook. This is purely due to the particular military base that they are asigned to, and the level of risk and the type of training that they have received there. It is training for the front lines. It isn't office work, or such.... They didn't take the easy route, when they enlisted as companions, for sure.

I'll be eternally grateful that they are together for this experience. I think it would be 1000 times more difficult, if Jungkook and Jimin were separated. Thank god they are together....

Both of them are carrying the weight of the military differently than the other members. If you can see energy or if you are an empath, you can "see" it and/or sense it. Heavy it is, indeed. It's almost like a greyish bubble that they are encased in, if you are a visual type of person. Greyish and heavy. And, it is completely out of resonance with their own higher frequencies, which makes it hard to navigate with, 24/7. Jimin, especially.

My hope is that they come through the experience without too much that they have to later process and heal. Yeah. We have to remember that in the military, they are taught how to shoot to kill. They are taught how to think in ways that go against everything that they Innately Are, as Human Beings. It goes against everything they are, as the beautiful people they are. (In my opinion.)

If you have a loved one who is military service or is a veteran, then you know. If you have had those deeper conversations about their experiences (that they could speak of), then you know.

As a believer that Love Heals, I do believe that the Love that we send them every day helps them, somehow. The more conscious we are about doing it, the better. It can help them. I feel that they need all the love that we can possibly send them, if I am honest here. It is something that we as ARMYs can collectively do, to be helpful in the best way.

So if you feel like these words resonate and you feel inclined to make a conscious effort to send each of them love, please do. It will help, for sure. Even if it is simply a minute or so of each day that you think of them and send them love, or think of them being surrounded by Love, or even "intend" that everything that touches them is pure Love.... You get the idea.

Yeah. It is a little something, but it is also a BIG something that we can do.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you can help, thank you! It will make a difference. 💜

[anonzentimes]

zen am i just projecting or am i cooking when i say komahina are both soooo incredibly anxiety disorder coded

like i’ll start with nagito bc to me that one’s more obvious. this guy has ocd. holy SHIT nagito has ocd. and it’s completely reasonable for him to have developed it! his luck means that things go wrong for very little reason all the time, he knows the luck has Rules to it, of course he’d develop little “rituals” (read: compulsions) to try to minimize bad luck. plus, frontotemporal dementia often causes symptoms of ocd as well (though i’d argue he very well could have developed the disorder before his diagnosis). nagito is always so convinced that Something Bad is going to happen Because Of Him even if he has nothing to do with the situation. “xyz thing happened earlier so something awful will happen now” that is obsessive-compulsive thinking!!! i just know he counts every step and Has to close doors 8 Times “just in case.” he probably has some form of moral ocd as well considering how convinced he is that he’s a terrible person who isn’t worth anything. oh and of course he doomspirals like no fucking other

as for hajime. i might really be projecting with this one but also i’m Right. generalized anxiety disorder. his primary fear response is fight. hajime is so stressed out about everything all the time and this is why he’s kind of bitchy. he’s Anxious. you see this a lot in the prologue where even before monokuma shows up hajime Is Not Trusting Of This Situation bc what the fuck!!! where is he!! what do you MEAN just enjoy it how did he get here!!! he’s surrounded by strange people on a strange island with a fucking stuffed rabbit and you expect him to NOT freak out??? hello??? he passed out for sure bc his adrenaline response got so intense that his blood pressure got weird and oh down he goes. but it also shows in subtler ways. his thought patterns and constant questioning of things— he overthinks a LOT, from monokuma’s plans to why his classmates are Like That to I Must Be So Normal to his mystery talent to What Is Nagito’s Deal Actually. in the prologue and chapter one, nagito gets hajime to calm down by distracting him— specifically, he teases hajime and riles him up. this gives him a healthy outlet to put that fight response energy into, and thus the anxiety recedes. hajime calls himself a “coward” in nagito’s 5th (? maybe 4th) fte— before i got my gad diagnosis, i thought of myself as being overly sensitive and nervous— hajime, who isn’t very good at deciphering emotions in general (likely due to not being able to talk about them at home but that’s a different story), would probably see his anxiety and identify it as cowardice. he also just… worries. constantly. about everything. whenever a classmate goes missing, whenever nagito goes missing (he proceeds to question WHY he’s worrying with nagito a lot which ties back to the overthinking), whenever anything new happens on the island, etc. mainly though i think hajime’s gad shows in his insecurities. he is deeply afraid of mediocrity, of his best not being enough. i think a lot of his fears stem from the idea of being forgettable or unremarkable— he wants to make an impact on the world, and the thought of dying before he can, whether it be in the killing game or just the rat race of life, horrifies him. but he doesn’t know who he is, he doesn’t know how to make that impact. he’s terrified that he, hajime hinata, is not enough. that he’s boring, unremarkable, destined to be just another salaryman, part of the mob. that’s why he worries about his talent so much, that’s why it hurts so much when nagito starts treating him worse in chapter 4 (someone who was once his biggest source of comfort is now affirming his worst fears), and that’s why he was such a good target for the kamukura project. hpa saw his insecurity and fear and preyed on it. most people wouldn’t sacrifice themselves for some experimental project. but when you’ve fought to get to a place that you pray will be able to make you special, and they tell you “we can make you special, but it will change who you are,” and you Don’t Like who you are because you feel deep down that who you are will never be enough, well. why wouldn’t you take the offer? you get to Be Something. you get to make an impact. who cares if you lose yourself? that guy was boring.

ANYWAYS that got away from me a little bit. i could keep going (like abt hajime’s fight response and nagito’s fawn response) but this ask is long enough lmao. point it they both have undiagnosed anxiety disorders i know it i Know It please tell me you see what i see

Hii!!! Sorry it’s taken me so long to get around to answering this! I was waiting for a good moment to type up a response since I think such a long ask, especially from an oomf, deserves a thought out reply. To be straightforward and simple: yes, absolutely yes! I think the interpretations that Hajime has anxiety disorder and Nagito has ocd is very fitting. I don’t know as much about ocd as I do about anxiety, so I don’t really talk about it in fear that I may be rude or inaccurate, but I definitely so heavily agree every time I see it. As for the anxiety disorder I’m not sure if I really have it but my anxiety is a pain and I am taking supplements and have started taking meds for it recently (fingers crossed those actually do anything helpful), but this is to say that I relate to Hajime a lot in those sort of moments and when you phrase it like that I realize it is probably because of the anxiety he experiences alongside his character beats. For Nagito I can say, “Yeah! Everybody makes such great points about him having Ocd! I really like that interpretation even if I don’t know about it as much,” and then with Hajime it’s like “Yes! This is canon to me I know about this and I say so and relate to him and it fits incredibly well!” :D

also lowkey I’ve been having that weird feeling where I miss them,,, and reading this has made me miss them less so thank you very much hehe I love Hajime and Nagito very much and agree with your points heavily, appreciate you sending this!

[thestuffieguardian]

Dude. Depression sucks. But no one actually speaks about how hearing a certain sound or seeing a certain thing takes you right back to a moment of pain. You smell something specific, and it takes you back to a beautiful time in your past. I smell something & it's like I'm being shot.

No one will truly understand this...illness. This...gnawing. So much intrinsic mental anguish with no cure. No therapy can help relieve this. No medicine cures this. I fight a war inside my head every single day. I pray no soul on this Earth goes through this as much as I do. I think I do pretty well considering the stakes. I eat. I sleep (eventually) I clean myself, I do tasks, I workout

There are people who feel the same way I do, but they don't fight it. They just let it consume them, and I get it. It's easier to let it take you, but the consequences in doing so are far greater down the line.

I think back to my eating disorder. I think how I felt. I think about how I was treated. I think most importantly about how weak & frail I was. That's enough to get me up & to make some food.

When I can't brush my teeth because I can't get out of bed, I leave a cup of a lil bit of water, my toothpaste, and toothbrush next to my bed so I can brush my teeth in bed when I can't get up

When I can't find the energy to wash, so I feel around myself (yep. Fully) and feel & smell how unclean I am at this time. I think back to when I almost drowned, so through my childhood I was terrified of water, wouldn't go near it. I think about how I conquered that fear by facing it. If I can conquer that, I can face anything

You are going to experience hardships. Pain. Anguish. But it is what you do to fight it that matters. Do you give in, and let the pain and fear take you, consume you...forever, honestly, I wouldn't put any blame on you if you did.

Or do you pick up a sword & a shield and fight back. You live and love another day. You conquer things. You complete tasks that seemed impossible, you climb mountains that felt as though they surpassed the very sky itself. Everything seems a lot smaller now that you're standing up & looking that fear right in its eyes and not staring away

You get to make the choice, there are no wrong choices. They both have consequences. They both have something we want. But only one will set you free in time.

You fight

Or

You let it kill you, and I don't mean physically, physically dying would be far better to what this does to you

I believe you'll make the right decision. I won't ever stop believing in your ability to fight

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 1,038

Gif NOT mine.

If this gif is yours (or you know who's it is) please let me, so I can give you/them credit.

Gif credit goes to - @bulletproofthroat (Unless told otherwise.)

Year posted - 2022

*Based entirely on → this ← post I made on my main/junk profile. And I liked to imagine this with the Iowa era Corey, but you're welcome to imagine whatever era you want.

Touring with Slipknot was interesting to say the least. They were loud, crazy, and sometimes gross, but despite their roughness they were genuinely nice people. Don't get me wrong, they could be assholes as much as anyone else, but in my personal experience, they were all bark no bite, looking like they could kill, but are actually total cinnamon rolls. Especially Corey. Yeah I know what you're thinking, Corey Taylor sweet? Well he is, with me at least.

You see it was within the first week of our tour, and Corey, Sid, and Mick all witnessed first hand just how bad my social anxiety can get. It was after the show was over, my band had finished our last song, and was heading for our dressing room. We were hot, sweaty, and still amped up on the energy of the crowd. Corey, Sid, and Mick were coming back from doing God only knows what. And from the other side of the hallway, was a massive crowd of fans trying desperately to meet us all.

One guy got passed security and made a mad dash for me, as he was apparently a particularly big fan of me. I tensed up and just sorta froze, my eyes wide and hands shaking when he essentially tackled me into a bone crushing hug. Everyone was yelling, but I couldn't make out what was being said over the ringing in my ears. And eventually someone, Mick I think, pulled the guy off of me, and I crumbled to the floor in a shaking sobbing mess. I was later told just how much the Slipknot guys were freaking out about the whole thing.

But my bandmates got me out of there and calmed me down, assuring me that everything was okay now. Ella my best friend, and bandmate, told me about everything later that night after I'd calmed down, and come back to my senses. She told me how pissed the Slipknot guys seemed, and how a few hours later they had all come knocking to see if I was okay. I had been taking an exhaustion nap when they showed up, so she had assured them I was fine and left it at that.

Since then I have been spending quite a lot of time with them all, finding their crude and sometimes childish humor very amusing. And the few times fans tried in such desperation to meet me, one if not all of them were by my side, berating and yelling at the fan to fuck off. Then they'd lead me away somewhere a little more quiet and make sure I was okay before leaving me be for a while. But today... Today I wasn't exactly able to run away from the individual making my anxiety spike.

It was a massive group interview that my band, and Slipknot were all involved in. Things were okay for a while, and most questions weren't directed at me, so I was calm and content. That is until the guy doing the interview suddenly asked me about the fan that "attacked" me. My mind went blank and I found myself unable to speak, the interviewer didn't seem to notice my discomfort and began prying for answers. My bandmates tried changing the topic, but he just kept prying.

My hands started shaking, my heart racing in my chest, and ears ringing loudly. Then suddenly a warmth enveloped my right hand, a warmth that clasped around my hand tenderly. A warmth I came to realize was Corey's hands holding my hand still. My racing heart calmed and the ringing in my ears ceased as I looked to the masked singer. Who was in turn looking at me with those piercing eyes of his, a faint smile ghosting his painted lips when he gently squeezed my hand in his.

The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and his gentle eyes cast hatefully to the interviewer. Who he gave a piece of his mind to, cussing and raging about bringing up that and I quote "shitface". He kept a hold of my hand the entire time, blowing up even more when the interviewer tried turning things around and pointed it out. Before long me and Corey were at the back of the crowd, as both mine and his band got between us and the interviewer, all hell raining down on the guy as they all cussed and spewed hate at him.

Next thing I knew the masked man was dragging me off, the both of us leaving the interview without another word. Then once we were in the safe confines of my hotel room, Corey finally let go of my hand, but he kept casting glances to make sure my hands were no longer shaking. "You didn't have to do that you know." I had told him, picking at a loose string in my sleeve. "I wasn't going to let him talk to you like that." Corey shrugged, pulling his mask off after a moment. "I care about you, you know." He mumbled quietly. I smiled softly, reaching over to take his hand in mine. "I care about you too." I had assured him.