#who needs a therapist when you have tumblr

[erlandious]

Forgot that when you follow someone on tumblr, their icon literally just flies across your screen??

Pen, if you see this, I just want you to know that I will be thinking about your blog avatar leaping across my phone for the rest of the day. Thank you :’)

[areyoudoingthis]

my mother texted me while i was with a friend and i called her on purpose while my friend was nearby so he could offer emotional support and she had the cheek to get rude and dictate that she would call me later because i was busy even tho I said i was free to talk then jesus fucking christ who does she think she is

[myglassesareinkansas]

Hello one, hello all and meet my family’s disappointment: ✨me✨

[drchucktingle]

On your blog you've talked about dealing with chronic as a result from the stress of masking your autism.

It's a bit of a different situation, but my little sister (who we've begun to suspect has adhd) has been experiencing chronic pain in her arms and legs. I may be totally off base, but I was wondering if a similar stess might potentially be a factor in her pain.

If you're willing, would you mind talking about how your pain affected before you found a way to manage it (I tried searching your tumblr, but not much came up, so sorry if I'm asking a question that's already been answered)?

Thanks either way, I love your books. Love is real!

sure buckaroo GOOD QUESTION. i have had chronic pain in some form or another for LONG TIME in a number of STRESS RELATED WAYS. in past it has been cracking teeth from clenching dang jaws while i sleep and things like that, but a few years ago it was FULL ON BODY PAIN AND TIGHTNESS like every muscle was clenching up. went to the doctor over and over all kinds of dang specialists and it was very difficult to figure out what was going on. eventually landed on a sort of nebulous trot of STRESS but i can get more specific.

there are several things about me that you would never know just from looking or even talking to me for long times. i am a bi buckaroo, i am a non-dysphoric trans buckaroo, i am an autistic buckaroo. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE THINGS IS EITHER HIDDEN AUTOMATICALLY OR I AM SUCH AN EXPERT AT HIDING THAT IT IS SECOND NATURE

autism presents its trot in many ways, so my words do not apply to all, but my version is EXTREME ORGANIZATION AND ENDLESS WORK ETHIC. in way of freud (which is a silly way but sometimes good for symbolism talk) i have what you would call an OVERDEVELOPED SUPER EGO which is a double edged sword. i can write 100s of books at an incredible pace, but also feel like my body is constantly collapsing in on itself

this is not really something i consciously think about much, but eventually these health problems started creeping up. it was all from carrying this mystery tension in my body, because while it feels EASY for me to mask i believe all that tension goes somewhere and it stores up and stores up and stores up.

so i think the HEALTHY way that i have found to deal with this (i think of it as releasing the steam valve a bit so the boiler does not break down) is ART. this space where i am allowed to be CHUCK TINGLE and write without obsessing over the spelling or punctuation, or to loudly express my queerness, or explore gender, and to let my neurotypical mask down DIRECTLY RELIEVES my chronic pain because it literally makes my muscles relax.

when i started out this ARTISTIC TROT as chuck i used a LOT of metaphor to keep my privacy, with different words or different versions of people for different things, and buckaroos found this very funny. as a way to express myself artistically i also liked this metaphor trot a lot, but i have also found that the LESS metaphor i paint over my life as chuck, the better it is for my health. if you have noticed, i talk less about some of the parts of my life that were metaphors, or maybe you have seen that my voice has relaxed a bit in interviews, or that i carry myself a little differently over time, this is partially why. (there is another artistic reason that was a planned trot from the beginning and it has to do with my feelings as a young autistic buckaroo of not fitting in on this timeline, but we can dive into that later).

anyway, as PRACTICAL ADVICE i would say that FINDING A SPACE TO EXPRESS YOURSELF WITHOUT FEAR OR MASKING has been the number one trot for me. that can be a pink bag over your head writing hundreds of erotic shorts, or that can be just laying on the ground howling your heart out, or doing whatever stim you need to do.

i will also say that ONCE I REALIZED IT WAS MUSCLE TENSION getting a physical therapist helped a lot. because there are two sides, you have to start releasing steam from the steam valve, but at the same time youve also gotta start HEALING THE DAMAGE. so i think stretching and techniques like that can be very helpful.

hope that helps buckaroo LOVE IS REAL

[richarlotte]

something on your mind?

Time to talk about love.

My friends, my good friends who are in Chicago, D.C., Montreal, Philly, and New York and who are in amazing relationships, share one thing: they focused on bettering their lives and themselves, and good men fit into the picture they were focused on painting. There was no “I’m going to find a good man and do the work later,” and there were no excuses made as to why they were neglecting themselves in favor of finding someone to take care of them; there were many distinct efforts made to better themselves, and when the right people came along, things fell into place naturally on both sides and progressed smoothly.

 

There’s a lot of focus on whether someone will fit into your life on Tumblr, but not a lot of talk about what’s going on on the other side. If you’re unhealed, uneducated, emotionally unstable, and unfit for a relationship, do you really think that you’ll find someone who’ll want to stay with you and do the healing for you? I say this not to be unkind but to be realistic. In order to form a strong, long-lasting relationship with someone, you have to be healthy and ready to deal with the conflicts and disappointments that occur in anyone’s life. If you have never had to deal with the things that can arise in any romantic relationship and you’re not mentally prepared to in the first place, you’ll find that it’ll be harder for you to keep things together and remain stable when life feels hard.

 

I have been in relationships before—healthy relationships—and I have thrived in them. But I’m also a person with trauma, and I know how that trauma presents itself and I know my triggers. It took me plenty of therapy, lots of listening to myself and acknowledging my feelings, and tons of breakups before I recognized both what I needed and what I was subconsciously seeking out. All of my friends who have made their longterm relationships last know what they’re looking for, know what they need, and know themselves well enough to walk away before things end on bad terms. Self-work must be done if you want to truly thrive in life, and you must have the ability to reflect on the things you could have done better.

 

Myself and the people I’ve known who’ve gone from struggling to thriving in relationships all share one common denominator: we’ve done the hard work associated with success, and we’re all willing to continue doing the work needed to get what we want. It’s incredibly hard and very damaging to one’s psyche to go through life with a clear image of what you want in your mind but a lack of awareness that limits you from getting what you want. It’s important to understand that you can overcome the obstacles in your own path and you can also overcome being an obstacle yourself. There are effective ways to heal, books you can immerse yourself in, therapists you can see, and things you can do to build yourself up so that you can thrive and feel more confident in your love life.

TL;DR:

You have to be willing to do the inner work before you seek out a romantic partner. A relationship won’t repair you if you feel broken; only you can heal yourself and fix your trauma. It’s an important part of finding yourself and finding a love that lasts and feels healthy.

[littlebatgames]

The voices of Vampire Therapist

Hi Tumblr! I'm Cyrus Nemati, creative director at Little Bat Games, where we're making Vampire Therapist. You might know me as a voice actor. I voiced Theseus, Dionysus, and Ares in Hades, so as you might imagine, voices are my thing.

When I started designing Vampire Therapist, I wanted to create characters not only had deep narrative depth, but that would be challenging and rewarding to voice. I voice protagonist Sam Walls and his mentor, Andromachos. Writing a game about therapy is really tricky, so being able to jump in revoice lines was a huge benefit for the game!

I also voice two of the therapy clients in the game, Dr. Drayne and Edmund Kean. Dr. Drayne is the kind of challenge any actor delights in, having three very distinct characterizations that have to seem natural, whereas Edmund Kean is the Shakespearean actor of his time.

As much as I'd like to save money, I couldn't voice all characters in the game, but I'm very picky about voices and needed a cast of the absolute best I could find. So I got them.

If you've played Hades 2, you've heard Sarah Grayson or Selene. Or maybe you know her from Gone Home or Tacoma? But I needed her ability to alternate between the very light and the very dark for murderous vampire content creator Meddy.

To play Isabella d'Este, a real historical figure and esteemed patron of the arts during the Renaissance, I needed someone with a sense of the theatrical and some excellent comic timing. For that, I turned to a very old friend, Kylie Clark, who comes much more from the theatre tradition that video games... which she doesn't play at all. Until Vampire Therapist!

For our fabulous goth bartender, Crimson, I needed the epitome of cool, sexy, and tantalizingly mysterious. You might know Francesca Meaux as Eurydice from Hades, but she went to some unexpected places to play Crimson!

I did say I wanted the best of the best, right? Vampire Therapist is a super low-budget indie, but if I'm going to fill a club with quirky, sexy goths, I need range, and for that, I got Matthew Mercer. Yeah, that Matthew Mercer. The Critical Role one. The one from Baldur's Gate 3. The one from all your favorite video games. How could I do less? He's playing Reinhard the sexy goth and Ciaran the goth priest in Vampire Therapist.

You can see the work we've put into every aspect of Vampire Therapist. I think you're going to find that it's unlike any game you've ever played.

It'll be out on July 18th, and you can wishlist it on Steam now!

And on GOG!

[the--queen-of--hell]

I don't know what to think about anti proshippers anymore.

Antishippers say "stop normalizing child x adult ships" "stop normalizing incest" "stop romanticizing child x adult ships" "stop romanticizing incest" while being okay with romanticizing murder in some shows/movies and romanticizing cannibalism in some shows/movies. I didn't see any antiship throw hands the moment someone said "I like Hannibal" although it romanticize cannibalism. It's weird, isn't it?

Antishippers say "shipping fictional minor x adult ships is gross and disgusting" "shipping fictional incest ships is gross and disgusting" and "shipping X is gross and digusting" while being okay with telling real people to kill themselves. While being okay with telling real people "you should be raped" "you should be tortured" "you should burn in hell" and more things. Do you even pay attention to your actions and the actions of other people? How shipping two characters is worse than telling a real person "kill yourself"????

Antishippers say "you are gross" "you need help" "you're insane" "you need therapy" while being the ones who tell proshippers "you deserve to have trauma" "you deserved to be raped" (for those proshippers who were raped and were told they deserved it by antis- I'm so sorry). I'm no therapist, but if I were I would honestly find more disturbing an anti saying "kys" to a real person than a proshipper liking problematic fictional content.

Antishippers say "protect the children" "children could see this and think it's okay" "victims of pedophiles/abuse don't deserve someone romanticizing their trauma". You have no right to claim you want to protect children when you're harassing or telling children to kill themselves. Because yes, in the proship community there are minors. And no, they haven't been groomed into being a proship. Actually, if anything, they would have been groomed into being an antiship because they're scared of people telling them "kys" "you're a pedo" "you're fucking disgusting". And what are children doing in Tumblr/AO3/Wattpad anyways? They're not supposed to be here. They're not supposed to see content not made for them. If they are in these websites, I'm worried about why their parents aren't there to tell them "this is not a safe place for you". And if people were hurt by real pedophiles or were abused, I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for them. But why the hell they're seeing fictional content that triggers them? If it upsets them, then block the content, ignore its existence, and trust me, you will feel less upset and more happy.

Antishippers say "you deserve to be harassed" "if you don't want to be harassed then stop being weird" "if you don't want to be harassed then stop sharing that type of content". Do you realize you sound like those people who say "if you don't want to be harassed for being gay, then don't be gay" "if you don't want to be harassed for being trans, then don't be trans" "if you don't want to be bullied, then stop being a weirdo", right? Or you didn't realize that?

Antishippers say "this ship is fucking gross" "this ship is fucking disgusting". I'm sorry, didn't you see the thing that said "block button" "filter tags"? Because you can do that. If you don't like some kind of content, use the filter tags/block button. Watch the content you want to see. Use the block button and filter the tags. Search for the ships you like instead of the ships you don't like. I forgot something? Oh yeah. Use. the. block. button. and filter. the. tags.

Antishippers say "why there are so many fics of these ships on AO3?" "why people are so gross?" "why people have to write about this?". Bro- I'm sorry that you didn't realize before but- AO3. IS. A. FUCKING. WEBSITE. FOR. PROSHIPPERS. So don't start with the "Proship DNI" in your tags because AO3 is a PROSHIP web. If you don't like it, GET OUT of AO3 and go WATTPAD or FANFICTION. AO3 is for PROSHIPPERS and we're TIRED of your "Proship DNI" bullshit.

Antiship community is honestly one of the worst communities I've ever seen. There's no other community so inmoral, digusting, and horrible in the Internet.

To my proshippers fellows, if I forgot something antis say you're free to add it.

[thebibliosphere]

In case you were wondering how deep down the Batfam fixation hole I am, it's something I've actually been talking about in therapy a lot.

Not like, in a worried way, more just when my therapist asks me what I'm doing in my downtime, my answer always used to be either "sleeping" or "I don't have downtime. I have too much work to do."

Now my answer is "playing my Batman game" or "watching Batman show/reading comics/writing unhinged Batman x Muppet fanfic."

And my therapist is delighted. She's fucking ecstatic. She's like, "You have interests again!" and I'm like !!!! Because here's the thing.

Almost dying in 2019 kinda irrevocably fucked up my brain, like, a lot. Like a lot, a lot. And I've been grieving over that for the last few years as well as recovering from the physical aspects of it. And to cope with it, I threw myself into work even though I wasn't physically or mentally well enough, and that made everything worse, and well, if you've been here, you know.

My brain has not been kind to me for a long time. It still isn't. But I do the work. I do multiple types of therapy a week. I piece myself back together on the daily and try to remember what it means to be human and not just this numb static void that sometimes sounds like shrieking if you listen too closely.

And then randomly, a few months ago a friend bought me Gotham Knights on Steam, and it was like a light turned back on. The engine that'd been refusing to turn over for years suddenly sputtered back to life, and something in my brain went, "Hey, I remember this... this is fun?"

And then I started tentatively searching the tags here on Tumblr, and yeah, actually. I remember this. I remember enjoying this. I can dip my toes into this. This is safe. This is a childhood interest from Before the almost-dying-trauma. And besides, it won't get in the way of my work. This isn't going to consume me. Nothing consumes me like it used to. I'm too broken for that.

Except, haha, jokes on me because, for some fucking reason, Brucie fucking Wayne and his gaggle of chaotic crime-fighting children is what reached into my brain, picked up my trauma, and started shaking it loose like a category 7 earthquake.

I actually laughed about that with my therapist a few weeks ago. Of all characters, of all pieces of media, it's Batman that's helping me process a significant chunk of my emotional trauma in a healthy way.

The most emotionally constipated vigilante in superhero existence, and I'm weeping like a child every time I get an achievement in Gotham Knights, and it says some bullshit like this:

ID: a purple steam achievement icon that says: He'd Be So Proud Of You. Reach the maximum level as any member of the Batman Family. 6.3% of players have this achievement. /end ID.

(for context, Batman is dead in this game, and you are playing as his emotionally devastated children trying to keep it together. Wailing, gnashing, crying, throwing up etc, etc.)

And my therapist, who has sat with me through EMDR sessions and a multitude of other shit designed to rewire your brain, just shrugs and says, "Sometimes we need to externalize our emotions through safe media. For you, right now, that safety is Batman having a relationship with the Muppets."

And like... okay, yeah. I'll take the win on that one.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[kittx0kitt-diet]

! Calling all ed accounts !

I know this isn't going to be seen as much as I think it should but it is important anyway. There is an account going by fuzzypatrolking that is harassing ed based accounts. They are claiming that this isnt a safe space for us and that we use it as an excuse to indoctrinate children into ed culture.

Many of us say minors DNI and block anyone who is a minor

even my therapist isnt mad at me for looking through ed tumblr (yes fuzzypatrolking I have a therapist go cry about it)

My ed developed from physical and sexual abuse when I was just two years old which destroyed any positive thinking about my body, having other adults who can relate to my experience is helpful and counts as a safe space

If you dont want children looking at ed content thats on you the parent not the rest of the internet... parental controls exist.

Many people who have ed accounts vent and don't give tips, we never body shame each other or others, its an eating disorder that changes OUR preception of ourselves not other people

Fuzzypatrolking also claims the accounts they have interacted with have called them fat... which most likley means they are interacting with minors

We understand we are mentally ill, we never claimed to deny that. Most of us are in therapy those who arent like they claim are most likley minors who dont know how to startr conversations.

Of course I am going to get mad at the whole account reporting. I have had 10 accounts termed in the past 4 years and have then lost a lot of amazing people who knew what I was going through and could support me when I was mentally unwell (not that my feelings are theirs to control)

If they are so mad that we are harming minors why are they not talking about fake ana coaches who actually prey on vulnerable teen girls to get nudes in the form of 'body checks'

Stop harassing mentally ill people who are finding the support they need to eventually recover. You are not helping. You are harming. Instead of talking about the real causes of eating disorders you push that blame onto those who experience the same eating disorders.

[freakattack]

Back in the day people used to make a lot of "if x characters used tumblr" where the general format is like, the pretty character makes #aesthetic posts, the most well-adjusted character makes posts that remind you to take your meds, this character with a sister reblogs his sister's posts, etc. but all of this assumes that 1) tumblr is a social media that many people use, and that 2) you can talk to people you know in real life on it. That is false. We know now that are only a few types of people who can be found on tumblr, and none of them exist in real life.  So, with this in mind, here are the only Mario characters that use tumblr and what they use it for.

Doopliss: Suicide bait

Biokinton: Does not have any original posts or a description or blog theme or profile picture or reblogs, but sends anonymous messages to artists they want to compliment or suicide bait

Tubba Blubba: Vent posts exclusively

Vivian: Makes positivity posts but they're all thinly-veiled descriptions of herself because she needs the moral support but the only therapists in the mario universe are geese. They all get lots of notes still because they are nice

Toadia: Leaves the worst comments on political posts you've ever seen and when you check her blog it's dedicated to luigi RPF

Lakilulu: Was a "hipster blog" in 2013 and is currently under the impression that the website is dead

The Spirit Who Loves Cuteness Above All: Cute things

Koops: Porn

[katsukiizmoon]

bodyguard or bestfriend! katsuki who practically lives in your personal space, he's only "looking out for you" and "making sure you're okay" he definitely isn't dependent on feeling your warmth against him, he definitely doesn't get antsy when you're not near him, not at all

Second time writing this, tumblr ate it the first time 🥴 but no because I bet he leaves his shit there and then forgets.i have so many thoughts on this

Katsuki has practically raided every square inch of his apartment. He’s checked every basket, drawer, nook and cranny of the place— and he’s found four pair of boxers. Total.

There’s no way.

A frustrated groan leaves his lips when he notices missing sweatpants. His face twists into a scowl while he shoves the last of his dirty laundry into the washing machine. He snatches the detergent and tosses it in, pressing the button and turning on his heel.

He storms out of his apartment and shoves his keys into the door, locking it. And you know something’s off the moment he arrives. He huffs and puffs like he’s going to blow your house down. All the while, you sit perched on the couch with a basket of laundry and a no-brain-needed show on.

“I’m goin’ fucking insane.” Katsuki grits, carmine eyes peering into your ceiling.

You hum and toss a pair of panties into a nearby basket. A sigh leaves him as his chest sinks beneath the black tank top.

“You always are— but why now?” You raise a brow at his glare, resisting a snicker.

Your fingers lay purchase on a pair of his sweats. Effortlessly, you begin to fold and separate the rest of the laundry. Another pair of his sweats are in your hands as you pause to look at him.

“Searched the damn place top to bottom,” a sigh “- can’t find my shit. Got four pair of boxers. I’m losing it.” He grunts with an exasperated groan.

Katsuki peels his gaze from the ceiling to meet your own. You begin to chortle and snort.

The pair of sweatpants in your hands meet his face with a dull thud. Without thinking, katsuki yanks the offending fabric away and growls.

“Oí, asswipe-“ The second pair meets his face before he can finish and it takes all of three seconds for it to register.

“.. why d’you got my shit?” He takes a deep breath, just like his therapist told him to, trying not to jump to conclusions.

“You always leave your shit here— I’ve got an entire drawer. You’ve even got a toothbrush and face razor in my bathroom.” You challenge, holding up a pair of boxers you’ve just found in the basket.

Katsuki blinks. He has been over a lot. But it’s only because you can’t take care of yourself— you’d die! The blonde runs through memories of cup ramen and expired snacks in your fridge and pantry. His eyes roll.

“Well, I need my shit, brat.” He chooses to say instead.

You glance at the TV to see two of the girls arguing over what food to have at a party. Typical, there’s always that one bitch who wants fruit at a candy land themed party.

“Go for it, it’ll end up back here anyways-“ you chortle and toss a pair of clean boxers his way “-you’re over five days a week.”

Ruby orbs narrow, brows furrowing as he takes playful offense to your statement. A grin plasters across his face and he leans in.

“Wouldn’t have to if a certain shithead could take care of herself, now would i?” Katsuki taunts and assumes victory. He looks proud of himself.

Your brows shoot to your hairline and you laugh wildly. The task at hand half forgotten, fingers reaching into the basket to grab a random article of clothing and throw it at his head.

“Oh please, you come here for back rubs and head scratches.” The teasing tone of your voice has his eyes rolling. Hard.

Katsuki looks down at the fallen fabric and snorts. Big hands put the pink, scallop trim panties in the basket to your right while he formulates a good answer.

You’re not completely wrong.. but you can’t know that.

“Nah I c’mere cause’ you’ll get a scurvy if I don’t.” He lies, grabbing a towel to fold.

Banter continues on and off through the night. He talks shit on the show you’re watching but gets invested anyways. Like always. A plate of steaming curry is served for dinner and afterwards you show him to the stash of his items stored away in your bedroom.

He grumbles and flushes a peachy tone, throwing most of the items in his bag. He leaves two or three pairs, though.

You get lectured again on groceries even though he’s the one that cooks. And, now? There’s a grocery list on your fridge that says “k: bringing order on Monday” in not too-pretty handwriting.

Katsuki finds himself basking in the warmth of your hands later. Pretty fingers rub his taut muscles and tug at the roots of his hair. Nails drag up and down, up and down his shoulder and back casually. He’s out like a light in minutes.

He wakes up and chooses to ignore that he’s already left another set of clothing in your laundry basket.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ bf!jongho x f!reader

synopsis ✭ when you come home from a less-than-perfect day, your boyfriend is nowhere to be found, but you don't want to call him and ask him to come home while he's out with friends. even though he'd drop everything if he knew you were struggling.

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI, established relationship, non-idol!au, hurt to comfort, slightly angsty, relatively fluffy (certainly the fluffiest thing i've ever written here)

word count ✭ 2.5k

note ✭ so this was something i really needed to write for myself, i think. for those who don't know (which is all of you lol) i have adhd. where i see it the most in my own life is chronic procrastination. it's something i've had to learn to cope with a lot throughout my life. a lot of times, when i feel the need to avoid feeling the stress of my personal life, i'll scroll on instagram or tumblr forever. which then leads to a heaping ton of guilt in the following hours as i try to make up for lost time. it's a wonderful cycle.

anyway, this is to say, that coping alone can be incredibly difficult. don't get me wrong, i have a handful of wonderful friends (who go to school across the country) and an angel of a therapist, but i often romanticize having someone there to help drag me out of those hopeless cycles. and not because i think i need someone to do it for me, but having that person is a really comforting thought. and, today, that is jongho i guess 😀

that being said, this mc doesn't necessarily have adhd, but they are certainly experiencing something that i experience very frequently as a byproduct of it.

like, is this smut? yeah, but im allowed to be emotional 😗

warnings ✭ mc is stressed af, protected sex, really soft sex (they're in love 😤)

✭✭✭✭

It was a terrible day. One of the worst you’d had in a while. Nothing seemed to be going your way. You’d ripped your favorite pair of tights this morning when getting ready in a hurry after waking up super late. You’d locked yourself out of the apartment. The seven dollar coffee you’d bought for yourself to cope with aforementioned events had spilt all over your desk, ruining the book you had just received as a gift from a coworker. And, to top it all off, your boss had demanded you to stay late to finish what was supposed to be his job.

So when you finally made it back to your apartment, after waiting in the lobby forever waiting for your landlord to let you in, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch with your boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms. 

You were plagued with fatigue as you slipped out of your work shoes and made your way through the kitchen and into the living room, not finding him anywhere. The bedroom the two of you shared was also completely vacant. Nothing had changed since you’d left this morning. He hadn’t been home all day.

Maybe he’s just working late, you thought, slightly defeated knowing you’d have to wait for him, not knowing how long it would take. 

Trying to take your mind off of it, you scrolled on your phone for a completely indiscernible amount of time, feeling completely defeated with the day you’d had. Moving in with Jongho months ago has been an incredibly helpful step for you. Before the two of you had lived together, you were a master of procrastinating your own feelings. Constantly letting yourself rot away in your bed and letting the day pass you by. Only to be plagued by that crushing guilt that came with letting a day go by unproductively. Living with Jongho had given you someone to hold you accountable. To pull you out of bed because sometimes it was impossible to do it on your own.

But on nights like these, where your boyfriend was nowhere to be found, which was not a common occurrence, you felt yourself slipping back into the endless cycle of losing yourself in your phone for countless hours. 

Hours passed and the sun was almost completely down before you received a text from your boyfriend.

| jongho 🐻🤎: hey love, sorry i had to stay late for work today. i’m gonna go get some drinks with my coworkers.

| jongho 🐻🤎: that ok?

God, you felt so helpless. How horrible and controlling of a partner would you be to tell him ‘no?’ Did he ask? Yes, but you desperately didn’t want to be the girl who always needed to be by her boyfriend’s side. Telling him he couldn’t go out with his friends would make you feel like such a nuisance. You stared at the screen for a good two minutes, biting your thumb, trying to think of how to respond.

| jongho 🐻🤎: y/n? 

| jongho 🐻🤎: i can see you read the message. is everything alright?

Before you could even draft a response, his name flashed across the screen. Taking a deep breath, you slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call.

“Hi,” you picked up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You could hear some of his coworkers in the background. He must already be at the bar. 

You held in a sigh, “Nothing, I’m alright. Why?”

“Y/n, you read and didn’t respond to my message. Like you were overthinking a response."

You didn’t say anything. Overthinking yet another response.

“Love, I don’t even want to be here that badly. If you need me to come home, I will. But you’ve gotta tell me.” He was being so patient with you. So much more patient than you thought you deserved, though he would certainly disagree with that.

You took a deep breath, nearing tears, “I–” this was so incredibly hard, “Can you please come home? I didn’t really have a great day.”

“Of course, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“No, it’s alright. I just need to see you.”

“Ok, just hang in there alright. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and we can watch a movie when I get back. I’ll pick up some takeout on my way, too.”

When you hang up, you force yourself to get out of bed and get in the shower. It’s so rewarding and feels so relaxing that you can’t imagine why you ever couldn’t get out of the bed in the first place. But, of course, you say that every time. 

✭✭✭✭

By the time you had gotten out of the shower and dried your hair, Jongho had made it home with the takeout he’d promised in hand. 

When you left your bedroom, you saw him sitting on the floor in your living room. He’d lit a candle on the coffee table and set the food down with it. You could tell he’d changed out of his work clothes into a hoodie and basketball shorts, mirroring your almost identical outfit. He didn’t notice you at first. He was chatting to someone on the phone, seemingly a friendly conversation, and not one you wanted to interrupt. When he saw you, though, you heard him say goodbye to whoever was on the line. 

Throwing his phone down on the couch, he got up from the floor and met you at the door of your bedroom. Pulling you into a big hug, he placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“No pressure, but, if you wanna talk about your day, we can.”

You shook your head, “Not really. I just wanna eat, I think.”

The two of you ate, sitting in comfortable silence on the floor in your living room. You noticed as you took in the scene around you, that Jongho had turned off all the overhead lights in the room. Leaving only the candlelight and the string lights around the ceiling to illuminate the room. There was something about warm lighting that made everything feel so much more cozy and comfortable. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t the most physically affectionate individual, but he never failed to make you feel loved. He always noticed the small things. He was hyper aware of your emotions in the least patronizing way possible. It was little moments like bringing home food for you and turning the cool-toned overhead lights off that reminded you that this man knew you better than anyone.

And that wasn’t something that happened overnight. He tried harder than anyone you’d ever met to know you. Your likes, dislikes, discomforts, phobias, and even your little habits. He knew it all. What he knew most is that you desired so bad to have someone to pull you out of your slump. Which is why he had come home early.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay out with your friends,” you whispered, staying focused on the food in front of you.

“I didn’t come home because I felt any obligation to. It’s not that I couldn’t stay out with my friends. It’s that you needed me here at home, and I wanted to come home and comfort you.” He ran a hand over your hair as he finished up his own food. 

That was another thing you loved about him. He wasn’t saying this because he wanted to make you feel better. He wanted you to know that you were not alone. That you were free to feel your feelings, and he’d always be right beside you to comfort you through them.

“Thank you,” you looked up at him, “I love you, you know that, right?”

“How could I ever forget? I love you, too, y/n.”

✭✭✭✭

After the food was gone and the coffee table was cleared, Jongho had put on a movie laid down on the couch, holding out his arms for you. When you finally sat between his legs and leaned into his chest, he pulled a quilted blanket over the two of you, wrapping his arms around you.

You paid very little mind to the movie playing on the TV. Instead you were focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady beating of his heart, and the minor movements his chest would make when he let out a soft laugh whatever he was watching.

He played with your hair, running his fingers through the strands, softly brushing his fingers over your neck with each pass. This position couldn’t have been more comfortable. Being with the man you loved as he comforted you in the way he knew best with absolutely no complaint was more than you could’ve ever dreamed of.

Jongho would claim that it was the bare minimum, but you always felt the need to let him know how much he really amazed you. 

When you reached your hand up to his cheek to brush your thumb over the skin, he looked down at you, completely forgetting about the movie playing. He grabbed your hand from his cheek and kissed your fingers, your palm, the back of your hand, the inside of your wrist.

Pulling yourself up to his face, you kissed him as softly as he’d done to your hand. Everything was so soft. From the way he kissed you to the way he caressed the skin under your hoodie right above the waistband of your shorts. From the hand you had in his hair to the way he lifted you to sit more comfortably in his lap.

He kissed your neck just as softly. You sighed contently. Fully basking in the way he took care of you. His movie was fully disregarded at this point as he gripped the bottom of your shirt.

Looking into your eyes he asked, “can I take care of you, love?” You nodded, helping him lift the sweatshirt over your head. 

Before you could even comprehend the nakedness of your chest, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your shared bed. Laying you on your back. Your bare skin taking immense comfort in the softness of your sheet. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw his pants off to the side.

He immediately went back to kissing you. Hands moving from your cheeks, down your neck. His thumbs caressed your collarbone as his lips brushed the crook of your neck and then your shoulder. You shuddered when one of his hands took your breast. His lips met the other one, causing you to let out a breathy moan and weave your fingers through his dark hair.

He continued to kiss and touch every inch of your torso. When he got to your waistband, he left a small kiss under your belly button. His big brown eyes meeting your own as he pulled your shorts and underwear off together. Tossing them to the side of the bed. 

Lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, he kissed your inner thigh, still meeting your eyes. The eye contact wasn’t broken until his thumb met your clit. Brushing over it slightly, making you toss your head back into the pillows under you. His mouth replaced his thumb, slowly teasing you. 

With his free hand, he took your own hand, the one that wasn’t gripping his hair, and threaded his fingers through yours. Thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

He felt so good. His tongue working so hard to make you feel pleasure. Everything was so gentle, but felt so euphoric. His fingers pumping in and out of you as he sucked on your clit. You felt like you could’ve floated away with the way he caressed your hand and your thigh. It wasn’t long before you were washed with a wave of pleasure. Everything was hot. You felt it rush through you from your ears down to your cunt. He kissed your thigh one more time after you came, fingers pushing you through the finale of your orgasm. 

Your breathing was ragged when he made it back up to your face, kissing you tenderly. Reaching a hand beneath the pillow under your head. He pulled out a condom. Before he could open it, you plucked it out of his hands, tearing it open as he stripped himself of his own underwear before you rolled the rubber onto his length. He groaned at the touch.

“You ready?” He asked, grabbing your arm and kissing your wrist.

You nodded, smiling, “yes. please, baby.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped and threw your head back again. He kissed your neck and shoulder, slowly thrusting into you. On most occasions, you’d beg him to go faster, but his subdued nature in this moment was so incredibly comforting. His thumb massaged your clit.

He kissed you deeply as he thrust into you. Completely overtaking your lips with his own. His kisses were so full of passion that your head spun. His adoration for you was so evident from the way he looked into your eyes when he stopped kissing you. Your foreheads pressed together, separated only by a thin layer of sweat. 

“I love you so much, y/n,” he says, just above a whisper. So close that you can feel his breath tickle your lips when he says it.

You moan softly, feeling yourself reach a second high, “I love you, too.”

It’s only a matter of minutes before you reach your orgasm. You grip his shoulders tight as he coaxes you through your climax. Walls fluttering around him as he finishes inside the condom. 

He kisses your lips once more before pulling out. He pushes himself off the bed to throw it away. When he comes back, he slides back into bed with you. Breath still slightly ragged. 

You laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat once more.

Running a hand over his stomach, you said, “Thanks for coming home early today.”

“Of course, love. You know I’d drop anything to come home to you if you were struggling.”

“I just feel like such a nuisance asking for you to come home,” you groaned.

He ran a hand over your hair, “I will never ever see you asking for help as a nuisance. Sometimes you just need a little push. Or sometimes you just need to lay in someone’s arms. I will always be there to do that for you. No matter the circumstance, ok?”

You wanted to protest, tell him he was too much, too good to you, but he kept going, “I trust you. I know that when you ask me to come home, it’s not because you're insecure or controlling. It’s because you need help, and I want you to always feel comfortable asking for it.”

He’d left you just a little bit speechless. All you could respond with was a gentle kiss on his lips.

For him, though, that was more than enough.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ok this shit got really personal 💀 but i did really enjoy writing it. it's not often that i write a whole oneshot in one sitting but i did today (other than my minor break to eat dinner).

also, i was actually between writing this for vernon or jongho because i felt like they both kinda fit the vibe (sorry if the knowledge that this could have been a hansol fic makes anyone sad), but maybe i'll write something similar for him next time i'm feeling it

again, i hope you enjoyed this! thank you so much for reading 💗

mwah~

[pro-sipper]

I understand that we should just block content we don't wanna see, but I still think things like proships or ships that are wrong and illegal in irl should be kept private. Because that is exposing kids to the romantization of abuse, incest, and pedophilia. This content may expose them to predators, which could cause them harmful trauma, the type that people claim to use proshipping for. They may think that a person older than them liking a kid is ok, even though the adult has bad intentions. We know that they are fictional characters, but they represent real people and can still affect kids. And if this isn't supposed to affect them irl, why do so many groomers show proship media and illegal art to grow kids?

Don't want to start anything just curious

I think the short version of the argument is basically "the internet shouldn't have to be a 100% sanitized and safe space for children". But getting further into it...

"but I still think things like proships or ships that are wrong and illegal in irl should be kept private."

It's not worth mentioning now but "proships" aren't a thing. Proship doesn't stand for problematic ship, it's not an adjective.

My question is why this line of thinking only applies to ships? Murder and cannibalism are also illegal, but no one's going around saying you should keep your love of horror to yourself, or only watch R rated movies in the privacy of your own home.

"Because that is exposing kids to the romantization of abuse, incest, and pedophilia."

The majority of people interacting with media like this, or making posts about this, DO NOT want kids interacting with their content! They slap every rating, warning label, and trigger tag under the sun onto their work to say that it is not for kids. At the end of the day, that's all you can do. It is not one random proshipper's job to shelter every single child in the world.

Furthermore, kids are exposed to that crap from plenty of other places besides randos on tumblr. Walking into a library or turning on a television can easily expose kids to these topics just as much as going onto ao3 or opening tumblr could. That doesn't mean every professional author or tv writer on earth needs to create art that's palatable for children. Because that's not their responsibility.

"This content may expose them to predators"

It's grim to say, but literally anything on earth could potentially expose a child to a predator. Getting on the bus, going to the park, going to school, going to church, going to a friend's house, going home. Honestly I think it's a bit of a privileged mindset to think that a child would be 100% safe in this world if it weren't for faceless boogeymen online committing the sin of writing dark fic of their Blorbos.

"which could cause them harmful trauma,"

Again, that trauma could come from anywhere. And you're putting the weight of preventing that onto random strangers online, not anyone who's concretely in the hypothetical child's life, or actually responsible for them

"the type that people claim to use proshipping for"

Appreciate the subtleties of invalidating other people's trauma. Just because you don't have the same coping mechanisms doesn't mean theirs are invalid. Especially when countless licensed therapists agree that writing is one of the better ways you can help process trauma.

And to state the obvious, you don't need to have trauma to be a proshipper. Not everyone uses dark content for self reflection, some people just think it's neat.

"They may think that a person older than them liking a kid is ok, even though the adult has bad intentions."

A kid should not be getting 100%, or even most of their life lessons from fictional media. Parents, guardians, teachers, and other trusted adults in a child's life are the ones who need to teach them right from wrong, and how to protect themselves. I remember being a kid and being told by my mom "now if a stranger pulls up to you and says they lost their puppy and they'll give you candy if you help them look for it, do NOT go with them". That was her job as a parent.

Now I know that sadly, not every child has that kind of trusted adult in their life. But it's not the responsibility of a bunch of fanfic authors on tumblr to fill in the gaps.

"We know that they are fictional characters, but they represent real people and can still affect kids."

It doesn't matter how closely or loosely fiction depicts our reality, it's still just fiction at the end of the day. Movies have been using the whole "Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental" disclaimer for almost as long as there have been movies.

"And if this isn't supposed to affect them irl, why do so many groomers show proship media and illegal art to grow kids?"

One, art is not illegal. Unless you get caught graffiti-ing, then you might get fined. And no one is saying this kind of thing can't affect a child. But why, in this scenario, are you putting the blame on fanfic authors and fanartists before putting the blame on the actual groomer??

And again I ask, what exactly is "proship media" anyway? I'm guessing the kind of stuff that constantly appears on people's DNI lists, which could be anything from Steven Universe to Cannibal Holocaust, so who really knows??

Like I said in the short version, the internet should not have to be sanitized for the sake of the children. The entire internet does not need to be one giant safe space for kids. Adults have a right to talk about adult things with other adults. To explore dark topics in fiction, or to have fun with taboos in a harmless way.

I want the world to be safe for kids too. But the way to do that isn't to forbid adults from posting shit online. Instead of trying to shield children from every controversial, difficult, or uncomfortable topic under the sun, give them the tools they need to learn how to process these things.

Be a safe person to talk to if a kid has a question. Help them understand why something might be okay in a fantasy setting, but it's not something that should carry over into real life (like, a fairy tale prince kissing an sleeping princess to break a curse is fine, but in real life where there's no magic you should always make sure someone is okay with it before kissing them. Something like that)

Teach them internet safety, above all else. When I was a kid, you didn't give out any personal info. Nowadays kids have no qualms about giving out their full name, age, list of phobias and disorders, showing their school, their house - the list goes on.

Honestly, I think we need to go back to scaring kids with Stranger Danger, at least a little. But that's starting to veer into a different topic and I think I've said all I need to say about this one today.

[crystalrabbit246912]

NRC Group Therapy

So I just had a thought that I needed to flesh out and I figured, why not post it on Tumblr, so here you are.

What if the main 24 (all of the named characters, counting Yuu and Grim, excluding the teachers) had group therapy?

Now, I know that there'd obviously be fights between everyone, but can you imagine how funny it would be? Like you have Leona making aggressive comments toward Malleus and Sebek yelling back at him while Malleus is just sitting there happy that Yuu invited him to therapy, or Floyd chasing around Riddle, who's ready to blow a fuse while Jade enables his twin's behavior and Azul tries to stop it.

All while the poor therapist, who's probably very underpaid, is starting to realize that they're maybe a little out of their depth.

Yuu, who's very much Not Okay after all of the Overblots, ends up accidentally trauma dumping by saying something and thinking that it's completely normal, and also has to play peacemaker for everything because... because Crowley's in charge for some reason.

The Overblot gang, especially... (I started thinking of who had the saddest backstories and then realized that it all of them have messed up pasts) all of them, do end up spilling some stuff and traumatizing the therapist in the process.

Some of the guys, like Ruggie with Leona disintegrating him and the Tweels with Azul almost stealing their power, and maybe some passive-aggressive comments toward Idia and Ortho for their kidnappings.

The First-Year Gang, (Yuu in particular), are especially struggling, like Ace and Deuce covering their necks whenever they hear Riddle raise his voice, Jack watching Leona and Ruggie closely, Epel ducking his head and not fighting back against Rook and Vil even when he doesn't want to do something, I couldn't think of something for Ortho, and Sebek flinching at the sound of lightning.

I can imagine Ortho bringing up the fact that he has the memories of the human Ortho who died in the past and Idia built him and the therapist just blue screening for a moment.

Everyone: Casually bringing up near-death experiences and past trauma like it's something everyone goes through

Therapist: I hope you realize it isn't normal

*A brawl somehow breaks out in the background*

Yuu: Guys, guys, calm down! Both sides are valid. Epel, you're allowed to be upset that Vil almost killed you in the past, but be aware that he's actively working on changing. Vil, Epel's been traumatized by you, allow him to be mad at you.

Therapist: ...this is way above my paygrade.

[mosaiclobster]

Pecking Order (Farmer x Hayden)

I haven't posted fic on tumblr before, but people have been so unexpectedly lovely about this silly fic on AO3 so I thought I'd share it here too 🐔🐣

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

House chickens must wear many hats. To Henrietta’s relief, those hats were figurative; she never much cared for the indignities of clothing. Ribbons were another matter, especially ones bestowed on award podiums. She wore those with pride.

But Henrietta was more than a show chicken. She was a house chicken, and that meant she was a pest controller, a therapist, a taskmaster. A friend.

Well, not a friend to all. Hayden was her person, and she didn’t see much need for the rest of them. At least Ryis had a healthy admiration for birds - she let him pet her, on occasion.

The others were hopeless. Balor, Valen, and Errol gave her a wide berth, which was respectful, but none of them ever bothered to bring her treats. Celine did, but she was too nervous to feed Henrietta by hand now.

She hadn’t meant to peck the girl. It was a simple misunderstanding, one a flattened palm would’ve solved.

March was the worst of all. He didn’t address her by name, only as “chicken.” When she pecked him, she meant it.

But then, there was this new person. “The Farmer.”

Henrietta considered the nickname an impertinence. Hayden was the farmer in Mistria. His people had worked this land for generations.

Henrietta Jubilation Featherbottom knew something about legacies. She was a part of the most award winning lineage to ever grace chickendom. She’d raised a whole brood of blue ribbon birds, and she had Hayden to thank for that. Any affront to his honor was an attack on her own good name.

Hayden didn’t seem to mind the other farmer, though. He even let the interloper join game night. He broke the news to her over a bowl of popcorn, as if it was only natural to include this fraud. “Used to be an adventurer before settling down here. Imagine the stories!”

An adventurer indeed. Sounded like a rootless, chickenless existence - more of a rogue than a farmer, if you asked her. When their new guest arrived, Henrietta clucked with all the derision she could muster.

In return, she received a handful of wild berries. Palm flat, and steady.

“Nice to meet you, Henrietta.”

Well mannered. That was a surprise.

Hayden gave Henrietta an encouraging pet. “Isn’t that thoughtful?”

She kept a wary eye on the stranger while she plucked and pecked at the ripened fruit. Hayden rubbed at the back of his neck - a nervous habit.

Why should he be nervous? Henrietta studied his kind face, the one she’d known since she broke out of her egg. He was blushing.

“Ah, she’s made a bit of a mess. Sorry about your hand.”

Henrietta trilled, indignant. She was a dainty eater. Juice stains were to be expected, and his embarrassment degraded them both.

The so-called farmer smiled at Hayden, and gave him a rakish wink. “Better berries than monster blood.”

The cheek! But Hayden seemed quite charmed - he hardly noticed their other guests arriving, and the color never quite left his face. Valen even asked if he was feverish.

Amusing jokes, exciting anecdotes, nice manners… by the end of the night, Henrietta had to concede that this new human was well socialized.

Over the next few weeks, a routine took shape. Sweetwater was the fastest route to the museum from the other farm. On the way, offerings were made: berries for Henrietta, and coffee for Hayden. Not every day, but close. Henrietta often joined them at the kitchen table - gossip was her secret joy, and there was plenty to go around. Apparently, Valen was spending an awful lot of time with that witch who ran the bathhouse.

Hayden took a sip of coffee. “Good for them. Life’s meant to be shared, isn’t it?” Henrietta watched his warm brown eyes widen. Hayden coughed, and set his coffee down so hard that it sent a spoon flying. The clatter ruffled Henreitta’s feathers, but she smoothed them for his sake. Poor Hayden was blushing enough already.

“That’s why ranching is so rewarding. I’m glad you decided to get a coop - how are the girls doing so far?”

“They’re great. Thanks for setting up the see-saw, it’s been a big hit.”

Henrietta had met the girls once, under Hayden’s watchful gaze. It was clear they needed a strong matriarch, but Hayden scooped her up before her beak could do its work.

That was alright. Henrietta could be patient - they’d be joining her flock soon enough.

After all, Henrietta was nothing if not perceptive. She knew a courtship when she saw one, even if it lacked the usual dropped wing and dizzying dance. The gifts, the fleeting touches, the lingering looks… honestly, she couldn’t understand what they were waiting for.

Once the leaves began to turn, Hayden confided in her. Not just her - Ryis and Valen were there too. They didn’t equal her in wisdom or tact, but such gatherings were good enrichment for humans. She listened politely, and cooed in agreement when Ryis stated the obvious: “Hayden, we know. Everyone knows. You’ve been attached at the hip all summer.”

More blushing. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Valen shrugged, and swirled her glass of wine. “What’s there to say? We all thought you were already dating.”

Hayden rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, we aren’t. I don’t think so, anyway.”

They all laughed. Or clucked impishly, in Henrietta’s case. Once Ryis recovered, he put a gentle hand on Hayden’s shoulder. “You’d know. The next time you’re together, just speak from the heart. Trust me.”

The four of them were halfway through a fiendish jigsaw puzzle when Errol burst through the front door. Henrietta dropped the piece she was nibbling on and nearly fell off the table in shock - such an entrance!

The man’s face was as white as his beard. He looked absolutely stricken. “Please, come quickly. The mines -”

Henrietta trilled in alarm. Only their semi-retired adventurer would be so foolish. So brave.

The others charged off without her, leaving Henrietta sick with worry. She tore open a bag of premium treats, but the tasty morsels did little to soothe her.

Finally, Hayden returned with Valen and the intrepid patient. Henrietta was ready with a lecture about the dangers of monster hunting, but she received no promises of hanging up the blade. Just a pat on the head, and a crushed berry.

“As your doctor, I can’t advise you to hand feed livestock right now. You’re more prone to infection if she-”

“-she won’t. Here you go, Henrietta. I plucked this off a bush as they were dragging me out of the narrows.”

It was the nicest one she ever tasted.

Naturally, Henrietta was an accomplished nurse. She set to work, nestling at the patient’s feet on the couch while Valen gave Hayden instructions.

“This one has to be taken with food, twice a day. Something simple, like toast.”

Eggs and toast, surely. Henrietta began to doze.

When she awoke a while later, she wasn’t surprised to find another set of feet to warm. The two of them were laying in each other’s arms beneath her favorite checkered blanket.

They were mindful not to disturb her, but Henrietta allowed them their cooing and preening and kissing. Humans were such soft, silly creatures.

And now she had two to look after. Henrietta drifted back to sleep, and added another figurative hat to her collection: matchmaker.