#why do i respond to my own horrible mental health by doing this

[anadorablekiwi]

[Not My Art, this is one of the official Genshin Artworks posted to their social medias. I just edited it.]

[oldhabitsdiescrming]

.

[lottluvs]

Take Chances. (🪵 )

pairing : lottie matthews x fem reader … c / w : descriptions of nausea , descriptions of violence , self - violence , derealization, fluff . ( short-ish little drabble as a writing exercise ! fast pacing , descriptive . )

summary : nothing could’ve prepared you for this , a plane crash with your soccer team , and being in the forest with them was nothing you could’ve readied for . the wilderness drove you to deteriorate mentally faster , however it seemed advice from the past drew you closer to someone you’ve learned for for oh so long .

lottluvs , feel free to translate with credit . . open to criticism 🌱

a/n : i am so sorry, i wrote this at like 12-2am, and didnt proofread it at all, sorry for the weird pacing, but yay first one shot :3 ( update : posted on ao3 as well ! ) my requests are open !!

The cicadas humming echoed more words than you spoke in weeks, their tune seemed to drown out your thoughts, waking up later than everyone else, silently, and with no purpose. Even the thought of getting up to survive was starting to get tiring, you were a teenager, this wasn’t something you wanted to ever have to deal with, none of these girls should’ve had to. 

As you rose from your makeshift pallet on the floor, the blankets draped on you somewhat too perfectly, you noticed that the cabin was clean of the warm bodies that littered it in the night, and even the late risers were by now gone as well. Your mind was still settling into the new day, ears ringing with the fuzz of your pillow. You begin to recall everything, the plane ride, crashing, surviving.. no, it wasn’t surviving at this point. It was scraping together whatever mess you called rations. Even so, that was only for your physical health, if you were to say you were surviving mentally, not even the slightest wind would hear your lie. Unfortunately, recalling everything wanted to make you fall back asleep, and let the delusion your brain would find in the comfort of dreams take over once more, but the thought of repeating the day over and over again gave you to pure spite to not go back to sleep. You wished for just a little longer your brain would forget this mess, this horrible loud mess. “Just five more minutes.” You thought, hearing your mother’s voice ring in disagreement, the voice seemed far away, but it was certainly there.

Standing up, you breathed in dusty air, restless, dirty air. Nausea from starvation hit you like a brick, eating once every few days in little portions really made you appreciate what you had before this horrible accident. Folding your blankets into one nice pile took no more than two minutes, two minutes sharp that you counted. Time was precious, so why not keep the memory of something you may not be able to do ever again in due time? Walking to the door, with a hand rubbing your stomach similarly to how your mother would comfort you by rubbing your back, took even longer. “Do I have to? I mean do I really have to?” Those words bubbled in your mind as you placed a dirty hand on the handle to open the worn door. 

Bright. It was excruciatingly bright. The smell of pine and the breeze filled your nose with a chill. Standing on the porch carrying baggy eyes and messy hair, looking around to see a few teammates working around, some minding their own business, some presenting their personality as if it was just another day living casually. Your eyes flickered before yawning and popping your fingers, walking out into the courtyard of what would soon be your last ringing bell, or that’s how you felt. The first one to stop you was Shauna, Shauna Shipman, one of the Yellowjackets midfielders. 

“Where were you?” Her voice was tired, but the sound of genuine ask was there.

“I slept a little too late I guess, no one woke me up, I assumed someone would.” You responded with your dry lips once stuck together parting with exhaust. 

“That’s okay, I was just worried I guess? Um, do you want to help me store and skin this faun? Like you were supposed to since you were next for this duty? Nat caught it this morning.” Shauna motioned to something behind her, idling her arms after, waiting for a response.

“I don’t see why not.” You spat out, hoping Shauna wouldn’t mistake your exhaustion for a negative tone, walking in the direction of the faun, of which was barely visible through the toned green leaves. 

You heard Shauna follow behind, picking up her pace when you eventually got to the scene of the deceased creature. She started to talk about how to “take care of the animal,” but honestly you couldn’t help but tune her out, you listened to the trees sway, the birds call, and you swore you could hear the roots of the trees shiver under your sore feet. Eventually, tuning Shauna back in would leave you in the middle of her conversation about how to store the game. You nodded in approval, feeling bad that you weren’t listening, because for some reason, you felt like Shauna needed this. This mentoring, maybe it let her feel like she had a bigger role. You walked over to full view of the small deer, Shauna handed you something wrapped in cloth, and got to work on the start of the process. 

Unwrapping the cloth would reveal a black handled knife, a shiny and what seemed to be recently cleaned blade. You locked positions, starting to stare at the weapon you wielded, looking at the skin of your fingers, moving to the palm that crowned the cloth and knife. You continued to stare as you began to get dizzy, your eyes felt like they were carrying weights, and the rough ground seemed to blur. Your own brain felt like it was betraying you.. “do it,” a voice rings out. “You cant go on right?” You felt your facial features drop, as not even your own hand was recognizable anymore, the skin that you bore wasn’t yours, right? It just didn’t seem right. What felt like a numb space of dull void that was your left hand picked up the blade firm, turning it blade down. Letting the cloth fall from your hand, you felt your lightheaded thinking churn, your eyes dilating, your stomach drop, as the nausea from waking up not even an hour ago began to stick to the front of your stomach, and your planted feet all combine into a feeling of external dread, as the blade kissed your skin, a hurtful form of abuse, the gorgeous deep red stained every line on your palm, making rivers of blood through your skin, dripping onto the ground below, it was a smooth and clean cut, at this point, you couldn’t even feel your hands, you didnt cut too deep into your palm before you felt something on your stomach, it wasn’t that feeling of your stomach deciding to throw up or not, it was warm. 

As you began to lock back into reality due to a the rush of adrenaline, Shauna snapped around to stand directly in front of you grabbing the knife blade first, somewhat cutting into one of her fingers, not as bad as you sculpted your hand.

“What the f— oh my god. Hey— what is going on with you?!?” The voice of concern that was so familiar hit you like bricks even though it was a whisper, it began to pull you back to fond memories. “This is—.” Shauna threw the blade onto the table and held your palm upside down, taking the absent cloth from the ground and covering it, applying pressure. You heard her take a breath before she sighed, it wasn’t a sigh of annoyance, rather a sigh of unease. “Hey, please talk to me..” 

For once that day, your brain formed a genuine thought that you were present for, what was going on with you? You looked at her soft features. The features that brought you comfort even before the crash. Your mouth opened, but the only thing that came out was the noise of silence and dead words, you’d left yourself dumbfounded. You felt bad Shauna had to waste any stamina she had left worrying for you. But at this point, you couldn’t even tell why you did that to yourself, was it self hatred? Hunger? Or was it the fact it was so hard to recognize you were a real person anymore. You’ve felt like prey this entire time. Never the one that’s one step above.

Shauna and you were good friends, in fact, she was the one to convince you to try out for the Yellowjackets in the first place. Turns out, you were a lot faster than you thought, placing you right with Jackie as a striker, a goalie-scorer, a game changer. During practice, you’d always be with Shauna, chatting up a storm and pissing off your already over stressed coach. Compared to current day, back then you were any normal teenager, bright, excited for the future, sociable, and one of the best features about you? You were approachable, and your team felt like they could go to you for anything. 

You recalled those thoughts quietly, stuttering out a few incoherent words before Shauna grabbed your other hand and squeezed it, calling you back to your unfortunate reality. “Shauna I don’t.. know. For once I really don’t know what’s wrong with me. Normally I can voice myself..  normally I’m in control, but now it’s like someone hit a reset on my brain. Nothing works anymore, im starting back on square one.” You squeezed her hand back, taking a breath in, wincing as the pain in your hand finally started to settle, waiting for her response, and looking at the ground now. 

“…That’s the most honest anyone here has been for a while I feel.” She let out a sharp chuckle before sniffling the strain of her allergies back into her nose and sighing. “This isn’t like you though, and.. by this I mean.. I feel like at this point everyone is different in some way, or in denial in SOME way.” Shauna rubbed your crimson stained hand gently with that oh so stupid concerned-confused pout on her face. “It’s weird to see how our situation changed us. You know?” 

You stared at Shauna, she was right, and you hated it. Subsequently, your hand began to throb with pain, almost as if your body, separated from your mind, was saying “gotcha.” You pulled away from Shauna and held the cloth to your hand, not even giving true word to her statement, just a slight nod, and you began to walk off toward the cabin again, holding your hand, not even for your own safety, not even for your own survival, but for a comfort, a longing, something you missed oh so dearly. Not even trying to hide your hand, you step towards the cabin, eyes not up, rather on the flaky pine needle and leaf covered ground beneath you, shakily breathing. However, as you approached, something stopped you, a whisper, something, someone? 

Your vision is blurry, dizzy even, you cant tell if it’s from the blood loss, or your brain playing tricks on you. You look around, focusing in on movement to your right. The only coherent thing you could see is that it was some form of being, you dont know what it was, but it needed it you there. Needed it near you. Was it you? Or was it this beast? It didnt matter, the lustful pull of this incoherent whisper was enough to draw you in. Walking, no, with a strong pace of a dizzy limp, you rushed toward whoever this was. It just felt right.

The forest no longer felt like a maze, rather, a clear magnetic force. You stopped in your tracks when you felt like it was right, when it felt like you were right. Locking into the vision in front of you, you held your hand more secure and looked around, where was this silhouette you saw? Just then, you heard what pulled you here, what was really behind your sudden mission. 

“Did the wilderness… bring you here too?”

That voice, that cracky, but strong, smooth voice..

…

“What do you mean I have a crush on her??” You shouted at Shauna, giggling as she shushed you for being so careless. Your cleats hit the ground echoing along either the remains of your voice, ringing throughout every locker room locker.

“Okay well, it’s not like, friend level, like that’s totally not normal.” Shauna snorted at you, teasing you. Rolling her eyes before turning to you fully. “Like— I get the wanting to be friends with her, like a squish or something right? But the way you talk about her, oh my god, you’ve sooo got a crush.” Her hands motioned along with her words.

“I mean. Shauna you’re the only one who knows I’m.. not exactly straight.” 

“So? No one else knows, but I feel like.. I don’t know. Like I don’t think anyone would make fun of you for it, maybe like.. Nat as a joke, Mari because she’s… Mari… but that’s it, I never did when you told me.” Shauna beamed. “But maybe that’s just because we are friends.” 

“How the fuck do I tell Lottie Matthews that though, she’s going to catch on too fast, like okay she doesn’t know that she makes it impossible to focus when she clears the ball to me up the sideline, because I’m too busy staring at well… her, and then the stupid dream we got like stranded on an island together.. and ALL the other stuff.” You finished your statement with a giggle. “I just don’t know. Maybe one day I’ll own up to it, but not anytime soon.” 

Shauna sighed at you. “Okay, but you should always take chances..” She reciprocated the laugh with a giggle, taking your hands in hers and rocking in laughter, just as normal teenage girls would do.

…

“Lottie..” You mumbled, as she got closer to you, allowing you to see every scar and marking her face had to offer, and god did her face offer jewels upon jewels.

“…Whats this?” Lottie gently lifted your hand, as you winced in response, seeming as you finally snapped back into reality. Her hands pulled back a bit before peeling the dyed cloth off of your scar. 

“Ah, that’s— I just got hurt while helping Shauna, it’s not a big deal, honest.” Holy shit, and now you’re LYING to her, as she decides to offer touch comfort to your shameful hand injury.

“There is no need to lie, this is definitely self inflicted, too perfect of a cut.” Lottie held your hand up a little higher, so she could see it better, the height difference between you two was palpable, and it made you swallow as she touched you. Soft, careful, thoughtful. Everything. Why did she— no why do you have to be so nervous..? Her dark lightly curled hair pushed back, her eyes gazing over you before letting go and stepping back, those sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Something brought us two here, so, let’s talk.” Lottie whispered, signaling for you to find a place on the ground to sit, allowing you to rest first, including picking the spot, and yet she still held your bloody palm, almost guarding it from the ground. Your stomach flipped, but this time, from butterflies, if only you didn’t mess up your hand, maybe, just maybe, she would hold it. Maybe you could be bold and wrap your fingers around hers, but no, right now, your mind has control over you like a parasite. You aren’t thinking coherently. Lottie plopped down next to you, your hand still in her care

“Mmkay,” you mumble as you sit, enjoying the fact you get to sit. “I just.” You take the order of starting the conversation. “I feel like this.. this has made me worse, I don’t know, I don’t… I don’t want it to be this way, ever since I woke up its like I’ve been awake because I have to be. Not because I want to, I didn’t even feel me do this. I didn’t FEEL it Lot.” You hiss, energy kicking back in, pointing to your cut. “I didn’t WANT to do this, it’s like something was.. puppeteering me. Something wants me to harm myself. I hate this dizzy feeling. I hate, hate, hate it. God why is this happening to me? To us? I HATE this constant feeling of wanting to throw up, sometimes not even at something in front of me, but of the thought I might.. I MIGHT actually die out here. I wont get to tell the people the things I want to tell them, live with them, live my life, pursue MY life, and watch those close to me pursue theirs. I wont watch my children grow old, I wont see my mother, my father, my family.. I wont get to see them live, and I just have to be SATISFIED with that Charlotte.” You took a deep breath, and as you began to rumble more, a swift movement caught you off guard. 

Lottie grabbed you by the shoulders and drew you into a hug, not a side hug like they’d do as a “good game,” line at the end of a soccer game, a full, wrapped hug, the pressure was there, everything, every element of the hug. You felt your eyes widen as all you could do was cry. Not many tears filled your eyes, but the stinging and punishment was there. You turned into her chest, your hand sunk into her wool jacket, staining it with your awful impure red. You bled into her body in more ways than one, tears and blood sunk into her, as she was silent. You didn’t know how badly you needed the warmth and radiance of someone else. You needed the feeling of support, of love, if you could even call it that. As quick as she pulled you in, she let you go, but this time, she laid you in her lap, head on her thighs. Lottie placed a hand on your head. Shushing you kindly, mumbling affirmations of reassurance to calm you down, but at this point, you were too worked up to even do anything. You hurt. So bad. But there was another part of you that made you realize, you were laying in Lottie Matthews lap. The one you crushed on. The one that made you feel butterflies for the first time at practice, the one that made you miss the chance to score. The one that made you feel unearthly. 

“You know, I’m sure most of us feel that way. So many factors the forest has put us up against. We have lost so many, and yet, we have gained so much too.” She cooed, brushing her fingernails through your hair, spacing out as she did, looking at your face, and you could feel her gaze, but there was no comment needed. “If anything, we have learned to take chances. Any we get, that’s what the wilderness wants us to do.” Her voice rose a bit, almost as if she was inspired.

Take chances.

Take chances.

Take chances?

You looked ahead into the bushes, the brush, and the distance ahead, you thought about way laid beyond. But Lotties words rung in your head as if it was a catchy song like the ones she used to play on tapes in the locker room. “Take chances..” you mumbled. Once again, those cicadas spoke up, their loud wails yelling in your ears. The wind whispering, adding comments to their vocals. As you sat up, and looked directly at Lottie, she didn’t move, didn’t say anything, simply, she smiled. That small smile, the one where her eyes squish and speak words, like the cicadas, without understanding their non-spoken words, you understood thousands. You thought about Shauna, and all of her advice, you thought about those practices you spent looking at Lottie, and all the time you spent thinking about her, doubling it, and storing it in the back of your mind thinking it was shameful.

“Lottie.” You whispered, sighing, tearing up in the slightest.

“Yes?” She whispered back.

“…Lottie I——“ You choked on your own words, hesitating. You moved your bloody palm up to her face, sitting fully on your knees now. Shameful. Shameful you thought. Words attempting to run out of your mouth like a river, and stopping like it was blocked by a dam, and yet every dam must break eventually. Every factor was against you right now, your own body even played tricks on you. Every organ, every nerve. Lotties facial expression didn’t change, she didn’t move either, the only thing that did move, were her deeply toned eyes, directly into yours. Blinking off-beat with your own. Un-synced. Even so, there was something so special about that. However, you pulled your hand away, your flight mode got the better of you, why was it so hard? It’s just you two, and after a-

“Don’t…”

Silence. Both of you silenced. Your thoughts interrupted by her reaction. She slowly placed your hand back onto her cheek, drawing a slight smile on her face. Your own face confused before Lottie drew in closer. 

“Ive known since day one.” Lottie smiled, drawing her warm body closer to yours. “Ive seen the way you’ve looked at me, the way you get distracted, all of it.” Lottie smiled, pressing your hand into her face. You could feel every muscle in her face move, all for you. She’s gorgeous. Absolutely ethereal. 

“But why now..?” You speak as if you weren’t hiding this from her for years, you look at her mouth, dumbfounded by your own idiotic question.

“I have been waiting for you.” Her eyes shut as you both close the gap.

Nothing, silence, it’s just you and Lottie. Connected, together. Her lips are soft, fairly chapped, but you can still feel the layer underneath. You feel her hand move to your hip, pulling you even closer. Feeling every fiber holding this girl together shiver. Even you yourself are still in shock, but god are you enjoying this. It’s like she was able to finally silence your brain, for once you feel.. “normal,” more than normal even, you’re with Lottie Matthews. One of the Yellowjackets defenders, sitting here with you, and she’s being intimate. 

You pull away for air, your lips leave, but there is still longing for more, and she displays that by pulling you even closer, moving her hand off of your bloodied one, and into your hair, softly kissing, minutes pass, as you share her hands exploring you, as your uncut one holds her by the hip. Eventually, you both tire yourself out, separating lips with a strand of saliva, Lottie smiling as it drips, clearing off of her now unchapped lips. 

“So, how do you feel now?” Lottie says breathy.

You lean into her chest and close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Better than ever.” You chuckled looking at your palm with a few wet spots, most of it dried by now, looking up to her neck, planting a kiss under her chin, allowing her to breathe a giggle.

“Good, I knew the wilderness brought us here for a reason, my love.”

🌱.—

[sflow-er]

Assorted Heartstopper season 3 thoughts (spoilers!)

Charlie's mental health issues were handled really, really well and Joe Locke acted his heart out. Perhaps the recovery could've been shown in a little more detail, but the ep4 structure was a great solution for a show of this length. I also liked how they portrayed the impact on his loved ones (especially the toll on Nick and Tori).

As much as I missed Nick's mum throughout the season, making his aunt a psychiatrist and letting her advise him about Charlie was an excellent choice! It actually felt more realistic than if it had been Sarah.

So pleased to see more Tori this season, and the rewrite of her and Michael's first meeting was cute! I do wish they had broken away from the comics timeline though, because the fast-forward to him casually hanging at their house felt very abrupt. I would've preferred a closer portrayal of her depression and them gradually getting closer this season, with their actual relationship saved for later.

Hence, I am actually glad they saved the ace reveal for S4. We saw too little of Tori and Michael's relationship or her confusion around it to relate to her aceness yet. If she had randomly come out to Charlie on the Ferris wheel, it would have just felt like lip service and a nod to the fans who knew her story from Solitaire (which is not canon in the show). I get why people feel like she was straightwashed, but there is zero chance of Alice Oseman of all people eradicating ace rep, and I genuinely feel that this was the better choice.

That being said, Michael was perfect and the casting was spot on!

As for the aspec rep we already got, Isaac's arc this season was amazingly well done! Even if his experience doesn't resonate with me on a personal level, it was relatable as hell in the show. It's also a great reminder that we are watching an ongoing show. S2 was Isaac figuring out his own identity, S3 was him living it and communicating it to others - and based on the camerawork in the scene where people wondered about Tori and Michael, S4 may be Isaac helping someone else figure out their own identity.

Another memorable thing for me was Elle's radio interview - the sheer absurdity of a trans teen being asked to respond to bad faith talking points from some adult TERF. The host both-sidesing it and unwittingly exposing her to vitriol if the interview had aired. Holy shit how appalled I was on her behalf - and how sadly realistic it felt... I hope the parents and random adults who watch this highly popular show take note.

Is it horribly middle-aged of me to say the teachers are still my favourite couple? I loved the glimpses we got of them together and the flashback to little Youssef made me tear up. More of them in the final season please and thank you!

My main criticism is that the season felt too heavily packed. There are so many characters now, and Alice and the writers want to give them all at least some kind of arc in each season. The result is that many of those arcs feel a bit rushed, and even as someone who usually fixates on side characters, I'm struggling to invest in all of them at once. Especially while the main characters and the more prominent side characters are going through very heavy stuff. So yeah, I would have preferred a tighter focus and more narrative breathing space.

All in all though, I really enjoyed this season and am looking forward to the next (presumably last) one!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole for asking my suicidal girlfriend not to vent with me? First ask here, be warned for heavy topics about the above situation. Putting an emoji for easy finding. 🦐

I am a polyamorous person (22nb) with my long distance girlfriend (22f) of about 1 year. I love her deeply, and we have known each other for a long time when I used to go to school in person with her. I also have an in person queer platonic partner (22nb) who lives with me currently and has been with me for about 3 years. Both of my partners are suicidal and self harm, though the partner who is living with me has luckily seemed to improve a lot through being able to spend time with someone who cares for them constantly. My girlfriend...sadly has not gotten the same chance, since she moved long before we got together and has only her family to keep her stable (who have proven before this point that they are pretty terrible support systems, when they actively encouraged her self harming to become worse).

Luckily, I have had this rodeo before due to a majority of my friends struggling with this sort of problem, and when she began saying things in my dms that pointed towards depression and suicidality, I was quick to try to help her get into therapy. Whether or not this therapist is really the best is sort of iffy, as the therapist hasn't worked with her on a lot despite over a month of them working together, so...she hasn't gotten much work towards helping to change things and has felt somewhat stuck. I know she needs to probably get a new therapist, but due to not having insurance at the moment it's not an easy situation to just change. Since things have not gotten to improve, she...has still felt horrible most days will come to me in DMs to tell me how bad it is. Which, you know, should be fine, but it's the *way* she talks about it-- it's in a very vent heavy, far too much triggering information, Everything Is Horrible and there is no way to fix it and I should Die, way.

I have learned boundaries in regards to my own mental health due to just how often I have encountered things, and luckily, my other partner is great about it! They don't talk about their issues with suicidality all that much which can make me worried at times, but when they *do*, it's very much a situation of them bringing up how they feel and then us moving forwards to do something distracting or something that will help them. Instead of an info dump of Horrible Information That Makes Me Fear For Their Life, it's just. Moving to make sure they're doing better and changing things, identifying why certain feelings are feeling bad. But with my girlfriend, these topics come on suddenly without warning, are spoken in such a way that I feel like 1. I can't move on or change anything to help 2. I don't have a way to respond that will end up doing anything but make her feel worse. I feel at a complete loss of how to handle these things that she's just throwing on me. I haven't mentioned yet to her how bad these ventings make me feel because I'm worried it would make her internalize it and worsen her issues, though I know I do probably need to communicate it with her. I feel that she may just not be quite as mature as my other partner in how to handle feelings like this yet(most likely due to lack of support systems), and I WANT her to be able to talk about her feelings. I'm her girlfriend, after all, a little bit of emotional labor is always going to be a part of supporting people that close to you. Just...not in a way that will end up ultimately making both me and her feel like shit, and get her in a worse direction than before.

She eventually will be moving in with us next year, and I am wondering if I should try to wait to talk about it until then when she has more of a support to lean against, or should I try to figure it out right now. Right now could leave her...hurt and much more vulnerable, which would be a real risk considering the scenario. Would I be the asshole for telling her that she needs to work on how she talks about these topics, and that I can't have her continuing to put her emotions on me like this?

What are these acronyms?

[abyssleaves]

Why I'll Be Remaining in the Lurking For Love Community

Ok.

Honestly, I really don't want to make this.

I'm way too old for fandom drama, and I don't need to be making myself a target. My gut is telling me that it's a bad idea to get involved, and I'm inviting trouble for myself by posting this.

But the most recent post against Tom is just ridiculous and I can't not speak my piece.

I'm not linking to it or reblogging it because I don't want to send hate anyone's way, and honestly because I'm going to block them as soon as this is posted. You can read mine and theirs for yourself and decide what you think.

As far as the “anti-Latino” posts that Tom liked, I can't speak to whether they do damage, or what Tom’s views actually are. I am not Latino, and I'm not Tom. It's not my place. But I will say I was aware of those posts long before I saw that “callout” post, and it's because multiple Latino artists I follow liked and retweeted them. At the time, I was given to understand that they were satirizing the fact that both were styles of stereotypes, but one was acceptable while the other was not, despite both being bad. I can't say, based on just those tweets, that I see any anti-Latino sentiment in Tom. I'm willing to admit that my knowledge on that front isn't bomb-proof.

The second point, well... I'm sorry to the friend that feels used. They're entitled to be hurt. And I will readily admit that I'm only able to respond to the info within that post. Maybe there IS more to it.

But I don't think that Tom ceasing contact over the hormones is surprising at all, from a mental health standpoint. Put yourself in his shoes: you're a trans person in US, which is its own struggle, and you've reached your mid/early 20s without being able to attain gender-affirming care. Now someone years younger than you just got the thing you want more than anything else. Sure, you might be happy for them. But that is also going to hurt, horribly. You really have three options:

1) stay friends and smother the bitterness/possible resentment. That will either end up ruining your mental health, or coming out and ruining the friendship anyway.

2) Ask your friend not to tell you/post about their transition. That makes it about you and also ruins something that should make them happy.

3) Distance yourself.

Maybe he should have spoken more directly with you about his feelings, granted. But, Tom has not been shy about the fact that he struggles with his mental health. None of us handle every situation well. As far as his occasional venting, I would think, if you WERE his friend, you might have some compassion, and either cease contact if the friendship is not fulfilling, or accept his sincere, well-written apology (Which are the ONLY words straight from Tom’s mouth on the entire fucking post).

Instead, you got the apology from him, and then shared a bunch of gossip between you and another friend, and outed your interpretations of his vent sessions to the world. That's not exactly classy, posting about how he sought people he felt safe with during a time when a big chunk of the community he built is telling him to do horrible things to himself.

I want to make it clear that I don't agree with all of Tom’s views as expressed on his initial explanation post. Again, many of them are issues that I don't feel are my place to get involved in, and therefore I stayed quiet at the time.

I'm aware that the justified and intense hurt felt by people in those communities can mean that even differing opinions feel like a slap in the face. You have every right to see Tom’s views as hurtful and choose to leave, and/or make a separate community for support. I don't blame people who are in those communities for doing so. This post is aimed at the obsessed minority that won't leave the tag/remaining fans/Tom alone.

All of the above being said, the reaction to Tom’s post is the most “touch grass” thing I have ever seen.

Tom liking one or two comics from a dark-humor comic artist so widespread on the internet that I didn't even know he had an actual page, or anything about him as a person (something Tom also stated) = Tom is a Nazi sympathizer.

Tom saying “I don't care for neopronouns, but I won't attack you for using them and will respect what everyone wants to be called” = Tom is a monstrous bigot.

The racism accusation has me especially 💀. All because he liked a post about help from an unexpected source and that we should be kinder to each other.

How on earth are you going to tell a POC that he doesn't know what racism is because he’s NOT THE RIGHT KIND OF POC? Do you hear yourself?

(FWIW, I also don't agree with kink at pride. Sorry. LGBTQ+ people are not "narsty little freaks"--yeah I SAW that post--they're people. They can be kinky, they can be vanilla, whatever. Kink has nothing to do with your orientation, and therefore it isn't part of Pride. Also, my guys, if you're having public sex/being nude at pride for kink reasons, then you're not part of the healthy kink community: safe, sane, and CONSENSUAL. Nobody around you consented to that. Similarly, while I feel that sex education for minors should be normalized in order to give them better tools to tell when they're being groomed, seeing strangers with no pants on is NOT education, that's involving minors in your fetish. And that's fucking gross. )

The LGBTQ+ community in the US is in a lot of trouble right now, and we have a very bad habit of eating our own. We divide and subdivide and allow ourselves to be carved up by a united conservative front.

We do not allow for differing levels of leftist beliefs, and we constantly accuse each other of being not POC/leftists/queer enough, or being the wrong kind, or using a term for ourselves that some other individuals don't like. A great deal of the bullying leveled against him is justified by others saying that he's choosing to support a party that will turn on him and cause him and others like him harm.

Well, to be honest, the only community I see doing that right now is this one.

The amount of disingenuous “OMG, just FYI everyone to everyone hurt by [situation], I’M not transphobic/a bigot, you're all welcome here 😌” posts from people, who did not read his post, did not link to or quote his post. Disgusting. You know very well that nothing in his explanation or in his actions throughout his time in the community pointed to any abuse ON HIS PART towards trans people, non-binary people, people of the Jewish faith, or POC. You're virtue signaling, you're putting lambs blood above your door to keep the baying mob away.

This is insane. When did differing opinions turn into this? You don't have to agree with Tom’s views on anything. You're welcome to not follow his accounts, not like his art, not buy his game. If you feel that his opinions are too severely different from yours, you should be allowed to leave the fandom without people telling you that you should do bad things to yourself because your opinions don't match theirs (sound familiar?).

But…please. Can we stop with this awful parasocial obsession with his personal page? You can't lie to yourself and call it anything other than literal stalking. It's creepy as hell, and it reflects more on you than on him, in the long run. People might agree with your outrage, but deep down, they're afraid of being the next target, and they stay quiet out of fear that you'll stalk them next and send a mob hurling abuse their way.

To Tom, I'm sorry that this happened to you. You didn't deserve anything even close to this level of vitriol and abuse. You started from scratch and created a character and story that I feel was something truly unique. You reached an incredible number of people's hearts with Lurking for Love and Jacob, and no matter what happens from here with both of them, you deserve to feel proud of that. I hope that you are ok. Being a public figure on the internet doesn't mean you don't have a right to private opinions or even just general privacy.

I'm not tagging any characters in this. I'm only tagging the game because I hope other fans get to see that they're not alone. I don't believe the tags should be polluted this way. If you have to discuss a creator, it should be in his tag and not in a fandom space.

I'm aware that there will be deliberate bad-faith readings of this, or nitpicking of things I didn't cover. Whoever wants to, go ahead and respond, but I've said what I came to say, and I have nothing more to add. My inbox is closed and I love the block button.

[mumpsetc]

hey why are you interacting w/ ii-neg-confessions. they're a shitty person who has allowed MULTIPLE gross shit (death threats even) to be said on their blog, and could also possibly be someoscguy, a known troll whose done some horrible stuff too. do you actually give a shit about the shows issues or do you like awful people if they share the same opinion as you, because it really seems like you are doing the 2nd option!

I Interacted With ii Neg Confessions Twice the Day They Popped Up and Haven't Since. Not Blocking Them is the Extent of My Involvement With Them and Beyond That I'm Generally Trying to Limit My ii Posting to Mostly Responding to Asks.

I'm Busy With College and My Job and I Mostly Dont Keep Track of the ii Fandom Anymore for My Own Mental Health So I Don't Know Who People Like Someoscguy Even Are

[missnancywritesfanfic]

Meeting After Hours Scenarios

Characters: Baizhu, Kaeya, Zhongli, Kaveh

Contains: Light Angst/Comfort, Fluff, Drinking and Smoking

A/N: The ideas will continue to pour out of my head until there is nothing left but a husk 🫠Was listening to Liz - Remi Wolf when writing this hehe~

--

He's been visiting more often. He always sits in the back of the room, furthest away from the stage and watches your performance. It wasn't much, just jazz music after a glass of whiskey. It's your job. There are other patrons that have come for one reason or another, as long as they didn't cause a disturbance they can stay and watch.

They never really paid attention anyways, your voice went in one ear and out the other. Just white noise to them. But he drank it in like getting high off cold medicine; dangerously often.

And when it came to closing time, you'd get ready to go home, but not without greeting your secret admirerer.

BAIZHU

"You know I appreciate your company, but I'm worried you'll catch a cold easily."

He did well to hide his contempt as you wrapped yourself in a warm shawl. How he hated your concern for his health like he was some child. You mean well, in fact, it's rare that you even make comments like that. But it didn't matter, compared to others it hurt more coming from you. Not when you were neglectful of your own health.

You let out a huge yawn, the bags under your eyes were quite prominent.

"I think for once, you'd do well to think about yourself before even considering me."

"Not like I can take a day off. Why don't you close the pharmacy for a day?"

"I have patients, much worse than the customers at your day job."

You hum, soaking in his words. He had a point. To keep yourself afloat you kept two jobs and a horrible sleep schedule. Baizhu was always there to offer his help without compensation, it was a bit annoying. But he wanted to take care of you, like you try to take care of him.

"Maybe I should catch a cold. That way, we can spend the day together."

Before he could respond, you lean in to kiss his cheek. His cheeks suddenly flush red and you laugh.

"You're too sweet to me, Baizhu."

KAEYA

"Mm, Sumeru for two weeks? The knights'll be lost without you."

You light a cigarette and take a drag from it. He leans against the wall, looking down at you relaxing on the bench.

"The Knights of Favonious are more than capable of handling themselves. Besides, we can never be in too much danger with our Dark Knight Hero constantly hovering."

You blink and stare up at him. It's been a while since you've seen that pensive look on his face, it's that kind of night, huh?

You shuffle to the side and pat your warmed up spot on the bench, he wordlessly sits next to you, and you lean against his shoulder. You can feel the tension already leaving him as you latch onto his arm.

He isn't like this with anybody else, you're not entirely sure why, but you never asked, scared he'd shut down. At the start, despite his flirty nature, you liked talking to him. You never pulled your punches and always called out his sly attitude, which he hated at first. In fact he would disappear for days, until showing up out of the blue in desperate need of your comfort.

Now, you've made a habit to chat with him often and make sure he was mentally sound. Well, as mentally sound as he could manage.

"Will you be travelling alone? Or is Klee coming along with you this time?"

"The little one can't help but be around me. So looks like I'll have my work cut out for me."

You chuckle softly.

"That's good to hear. You're a good big brother, looking out for her on her adventures. But don't forget to look out for yourself, understand?"

He returns your smile, caressing your cheek before planting a kiss on your forehead.

"It's sweet the way you always worry about me, doll."

ZHONGLI

He's there waiting for you when you step out of the bar, with an arm around for you to take. There's always a regal air about him that made your cheeks burn, it was almost addicting to be around.

It's a routine you two engage in, you're not sure how it began, but every late night you work he's there to walk you home. And you talk the entire way. Well, he talks and you listen. If there's one other thing you've learned about Mr. Zhongli, is that he always has a story to tell about Liyue. From its birth to its textiles, he'd recount it all in great detail.

Not that you mind, despite living in this nation, you've always felt like a foreigner. In a weird way, he made you feel at home. Like you belonged.

"This is my stop."

You both stop at your front door, a scratchy welcome mat awaiting you like always. You untangle yourself from Zhongli's arm and unlock the door.

"A-Ah, of course..." You look back, nearly missing the disappointment in his voice. He gave you a gentle smile and bowed. "Have a good night, then."

You feel a bit uneasy watching him turn his back. But this is how it always ends, nothing special. Then why, this time, do you get the feeling he's really lonely..?

"Zh-Zhongli..?"

He turns back to look at you. You shyly open your door to welcome him inside.

"Did you want to come inside for some tea? I don't think our talk on textiles can wait till tomorrow night."

KAVEH

"Kaveh..?" You gently shake his shoulder. "It's closing time." He only responds in grumbles. You sigh gently and let your boss know you'll take care of it.

It's not an unusual occurence. You've known Kaveh for a long time and you know it's only a matter of time until he spirals just like this. He's a busy man with no sense of self-preservation, and it always scares you to see him like this. But you suppose this way, you can actually keep an eye on him.

Getting him home isn't an easy feat either. You've been fortunate every now and again to see one of his friends with him, they usually bring him home. But not tonight.

You manage to wake him up and have him drink at least one glass of water before you were out the door. He lives in the opposite direction of your house, but you didn't mind. Sometimes, his roommate was kind enough to lend you the guest room if you really wanted it.

You never do. You didn't want to impose.

"I feel awful..."

You hum in response as you lay him down in his bed. He has an arm over his eyes, shielding them from lights that aren't even on. You sigh softly.

"Get some rest, Kaveh. I'll see you later."

Just as you get up, he fumbles to grab your hand. "Don't leave...please don't..."

"You know I can't stay, I have to go home."

"I know, I'm sorry..." He hiccups. Tears fall down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, please don't leave me..."

You carefully pull his arm back and wipe his tears away. He leans into your touch, calming down almost instantly.

"I won't. I promise."

[ace-of-zaun]

For Forever (One-shot):

young!silco x gn!reader - 1.8k words - SFW

Warnings: depression, feeling low, struggling with self-care, mental health, established relationship, low self-esteem, self-doubt, brief mentions of alcohol and minor injury, fluff, comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, silco taking care of you, fluffy end

A/N: please mind the warnings on this one, my dears -el x

-

You wouldn’t wish this feeling on your worst enemy. That indescribably heavy feeling that means you have no energy and certainly no motivation to do anything but lie in your own sorrow. 

Today had been one of those days. The kind where you’d not been able to get up or really even move for that matter, and honestly, you’re more than happy to stay that way. 

But as the evening slowly approaches, it would seem that staying in bed for the rest of the day wasn’t in your cards. 

A loud knock at the door sounds through your apartment and you bury your head further under the blankets, hoping they’ll just go away.

You really don’t have the energy to deal with people right now. 

A few moments pass before they knock again and the identity of the visitor is soon revealed when Silco calls your name through the door. 

“Darling? I know you’re in, the window is open,” he adds when you don’t respond. 

You heave a wearied sigh.

You must have left it open overnight when you’d climbed into bed and he’d probably spotted it when entering your apartment building. 

Silco knocks and calls your name again, this time with clear worry lacing his tone. 

“I hate to do this, but if you don’t answer, I’m gonna have to kick the door in,” he informs you with careful resolve. 

If you didn’t feel so despondent, you’d have been rolling your eyes at him. 

Why did he have to be so dramatic all the time? Anyone else would just pick the lock.

It takes all your strength to lift your head and call across the single room to him. 

“I’m here, don’t break the door.”

“Can you let me in please, sweetheart?” he says, probably feeling confused as to why you weren’t answering him. 

And the reason was simple.

You could not let him see you like this. 

You’d only been dating the young revolutionary for a few months and you’d somehow managed to avoid letting him see you in this state.

You just couldn’t risk revealing this part of yourself to him. 

Curling even further into yourself, you mumble out your reply. 

“I can’t.”

“What? I can barely hear you,” he calls back. 

Another heavy sigh escapes you before you slowly drag yourself up and out of bed, taking the blanket with you as you crumple to the ground with your back resting against the front door. 

“I said I can’t,” you tell him dejectedly. 

“Why not?” he asks, his smooth voice filled with confusion and a tiny inkling of hurt that has your stomach twisting in guilt. 

Your heart clenches horribly when you imagine telling him the true reason. But you don’t want to lie to him either, so you chew on your words for a few moments before speaking again. 

“Because I don’t feel well.”

“If you open the door I can take care of you,” Silco replies softly. 

Tears line your eyes at his tenderness. But you just can’t stop yourself from feeling utterly terrified of what he’ll think when he finds out it’s not the kind of ‘unwell’ he’s thinking of. 

What if he judges you? Or calls you the sorts of names you already call yourself when you get like this?

What if he breaks up with you?

“Vander told me you haven’t been to The Drop all day, so I came to check on you,” Silco tells you gently, unknowingly interrupting your spiralling ruminations. 

You pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders in response to the guilt lining your stomach. 

You really should have gone down to the bar to pick up some work at some point in the day, but you just couldn’t. 

There’s a beat of silence before you hear Silco exhale quietly, his muffled voice suddenly sounding much closer as he sits down on the landing outside the door. 

“What’s wrong, my lovely?”

Those tears threaten to spill as your heart breaks from having to shut him out like this. 

“I just don’t feel great,” you whisper, your voice wobbling on the last syllable. 

“Has something happened?” he asks with gentle concern. 

You shake your head sadly even though he can’t see the glum movement. 

“No.”

“Then why won’t you let me in?”

Part of you feels incredibly lucky that you have a boyfriend who is so patient (well, with you, at the very least), because he quietly waits while you struggle to find the words to answer his question.

You cast your gaze around the mess that is your apartment, finally looking down at yourself, still adorning your crumpled pyjamas and unkempt bed hair. 

Your teeth worry your bottom lip before finally spitting out the first of many reasons. 

“I… I’m worried you’ll think I’m disgusting,” you reply shamefully. 

“You could bathe in mud and I’d still think you were sweeter than a daisy,” Silco tells you kindly, a hint of that usual playfulness returning to his voice.

Unfortunately, you’re really not in the mood for it. 

“I’m serious, Silco,” you tell him gravely. 

You hear him sigh quietly through the thin piece of wood separating you both. 

“Darling, I just want to comfort you. I hate that you’re upset and I’m stuck out here.”

Then, you hear some light shuffling before his voice becomes slightly louder, and you imagine him having gotten on his knees and turned to face the door.

“Please, sweetheart,” he pleads softly. “Let me help you, let me be there for you.”

Your heart aches for him, aches to just let him in, but all your demons are screaming to keep him at arm’s length, convincing you he’ll never speak to you again if he finds out why you’re doing this. 

Silco says your name again, and it’s so soft and vulnerable, it has you slowly crawling to your feet against your better judgement and reaching for the lock on the door. 

Slowly… nervously, you unlock the latch and pull the door open slightly, stepping away from it to wrap the blanket around your shoulders protectively. 

He gently pushes the door open and steps into your apartment, his analytical, seafoam eyes quickly examining your apartment before dropping down to your face.

You stare up at him, your eyes wide with unshed tears, waiting for the worst.

But instead of confirming your fears, Silco carefully wraps his arms around your body, cradling you to his chest like you’re the most precious thing in the whole of Runeterra.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here now,” he says with a gentle possessiveness, like he fully intends to shield you from everything that could ever hurt you. 

It’s a wonder you don’t burst into tears in your overwhelming relief, as he gently sways you while your face is buried against his chest. 

You both stay there for a good few minutes, until Silco pulls away and gently persuades you to take a shower while he makes you a warm drink. 

It takes a while, given how difficult it is to move quickly when the sadness overwhelms you like this. 

But you manage it, finally exiting the bathroom in fresh pyjamas and Silco’s stolen jumper to find that not only has he tidied your apartment and changed your bedsheets, but has also made you both something to eat and drink. 

You stare at the room in disbelief, before catching sight of him watching you carefully, which is when you promptly burst into overwhelmed tears. 

You’d expected the worst of him and he’d been nothing but wonderful.

Silco strides over to you, pulling you into another hug with one hand around your waist as his free hand traces soothing patterns up and down your spine. 

“I know, my love, I know,” he murmurs into your hair. 

He pulls back slightly to wipe your tears away from your cheeks with his thumbs. Then, he gently leads you to the old, worn couch, pulling you to sit with your back against his chest whilst he encourages you to eat. 

Silco begins by telling you about his day in a low, comforting voice. He tells you about the potential clients he met and how he looked for your favourite snack at the market but couldn’t find any. 

By the way he’s talking, you have a feeling he’ll keep going back day after day until he finds some. 

After that, he gently coaxes you into telling him how you’re feeling, how you’ve felt for a while now. You pause and stutter and worry the whole time, but with the sensation of your lovely partner tracing reassuring constellations on your skin the entire time, it slowly gets easier. 

You feel like the gods have given you an angel as Silco listens to every word you say, only interjecting to carefully counter any negative comments you make about yourself. 

And once you’ve both finished eating, you turn in his hold so your ear is resting against his chest, his long legs and arms wrapped around you protectively. Listening to his steady heartbeat like it’s the only metronome that can calm your troubled soul. 

It’s the safest and calmest you’ve felt in a long time.

A few quiet minutes pass before Silco breaks the lull in conversation, his voice rumbling straight from his chest to yours. 

“Did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally embedded a dart in Benzo’s leg?”

You almost sputter as your head tips back to look at him in wide-eyed incredulity. 

“You did what?”

“Let’s just say we all learned our lesson about not playing darts when we’re drunk,” he says, a dopey smirk on his crooked lips. 

You giggle quietly and he tightens his arms around you in response.

There’s another period of reticence where Silco gently runs his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp in soothing, repetitive motions. 

And while it doesn’t make the heavy feeling in your bones disappear entirely, it helps. 

“Thank you,” you whisper to him shakily, turning your head to kiss his chest.

Silco doesn’t respond with words, instead choosing to move his fingers from your hair to your cheekbone, resuming his gentle ministrations.

But like it always does when you get this way, and especially when it’s this quiet, the doubt starts to creep back in. 

“I don’t deserve this,” you mumble, not daring to look up at him. “I don’t deserve you.”

His movements pause before his fingertips glide down to your jaw, softly tilting your head back until you meet his gaze. 

“You deserve the moon and every single star in the sky,” he tells you slowly and sincerely. 

Then, he leans down to kiss your head reverently, and something tells you that he won’t stop until you believe him. 

Eventually, as it reaches the late evening, Silco leads you to bed, closing the window before he takes off his boots, socks, and trousers. 

He climbs under the covers with you, holding your body so close against his that you can feel every exhale of his breath dance across your skin. 

And before you drift into a peaceful sleep, Silco whispers reassurances that he loves you. That he’ll always be there when you need him. 

That he’ll take care of you when you’re down and even when you’re not. 

For Forever. 

-

A/N: ♡♡♡

[astercontrol]

I remember a time-- or at least a certain assortment of times and places within my online presence-- when telling people to kill themselves was not considered acceptable, at all.

I remember when it was in fact taboo, an atrocity on the level of going around calling people racial slurs.

And I think these times and places were formative enough for me that my own sensibilities respond with a similar kind of shock, whenever I see people in online spaces (especially spaces that tend toward being politically progressive and supportive of mental health concerns!) acting as if this somehow is a tolerable thing to say.

I don't even see the reasoning for it, at all.

I mean… yes, I can see some of the reasoning behind sometimes, in certain egregious circumstances, wishing that a particularly horrible person would die. I can imagine saying that I hope Donald Trump or Elon Musk doesn't live much longer. I can even understand the cartoonish death-wish expressed over PhotoMatt's excessive and prejudiced use of Tumblr's ban function. A statement like "I hope he dies in an exploding car full of hammers" may be satisfying to say, and it's clearly neither a death threat nor capable of causing actual harm in itself (although I can't really say I was surprised that he used his notoriously overeager ban-hammer in response).

But in expressing a hope for death, why in the world would one ever phrase it as a hope for that death to be self-inflicted?

Even assuming a worldview where you hate a person entirely, you want nothing good for them, and you consider them so irredeemable they should die, why pick a method that has them doing it on their own terms?

I can imagine wishing for an enemy like Trump or Musk to die in a horrific and humiliating accident caused entirely by his own hubris. That would at least be a source of some schadenfreude, assuming one hates the person enough. But suicide can't possibly be satisfying in that way. It's usually not among the most painful ways to go, nor is it the most degrading-- it more often elicits sympathy than ridicule.

Is it a sense that you want your enemy's spirit completely broken before death? That you want him to realize that he is worthless and doesn't deserve to live, and for his final choice to be acting on that?

I find that hard to believe.

Because whenever a supposedly irredeemable person does seem to realize the extent of his own wrongdoing-- whenever such a person admits to his crimes, apologizes, acknowledges that he's done things for which he has no right to expect forgiveness-- none of those who previously hated him ever seem satisfied at all! In fact it's typical for the response to be that he doesn't actually mean it, isn't actually sorry, and is still just trying to manipulate everyone.

Even suicide, if it happens under these circumstances, is more likely to be attributed to cowardice and a fear of well-deserved punishment. Those who hated the person don't often seem happy if the death occurred by suicide. They wanted it to happen through that well-deserved punishment instead-- for the enemy to be executed, or to be incarcerated and then killed in a prison fight, or to lose all his money and starve on the street.

They want it to happen entirely against his will. They want him to be utterly defiant up to the moment of death, never accepting that he deserves it-- because that's the most satisfying type of person to see die.

So then, why is "kill yourself" still a thing people say?

Perhaps the urge to say that, instead of something like "I hope you die in a hammer explosion," is an attempt to avoid being accused of making death threats? Because some people (like Photomatt) will take the latter insult as a threat, unreasonable as that is. And if someone did die in an explosion, after others had expressed a wish for that to happen, maybe the death would look suspicious, and be treated as a homicide encouraged by those expressed death-wishes?

But suicide-baiting really isn't preferable on those grounds.

If a person is repeatedly told "kill yourself!" and then does, there is quite a bit of legal precedent for holding the suicide-baiters accountable for it! Choosing that particular verbal attack is not, in a legal or ethical sense, any better than expressing a wish for an accident or illness. It's often worse, because when directed at a person with vulnerable mental health, it can directly cause the harm it describes.

And maybe this is why people still say it.

Maybe, to some of the angriest of us, it feels like the closest you can get to maybe actually causing the death of the person you want to see die. Even if it's not as satisfying a death as you'd ideally like to see.

Maybe it's like the fantasy of writing a name in a Death Note, or casting a spell, or praying to God for vengeance. The fantasy that your words could actually do something against the person you want to hurt, no matter how little real power you have to affect anything at all in their life.

But realistically, the only harm it's likely to cause is to others, people who may even be your friends.

Those who have struggled with suicidal thoughts-- and now see that you are someone who would use suicide-bait against someone you hated-- and may now be evaluating the danger of you someday placing them in that category.

It's the same thing as mocking an enemy's appearance or disability. It's an attack vanishingly unlikely to hit the target, and far more likely to hurt those closer to you.

[chounaifu]

I’m really glad that those asks I sent out are being well-received. There’s still a few more that I need to write up, but, I’m pacing myself. :’)

Thoughts about my own current state beneath the cut, since my therapist always encourages me to open up to the people in my space. Some of it can be potentially triggering, so, please do not open if the discussion of trauma, stalking and abuse is harmful to you:

I’ve been vocal about the horrifying, traumatic stuff that caused me to leave the RPC in 2017, to a few of you before. Without going into deep detail, between the years of 2017-2021, I was trapped in an extremely, extremely abusive relationship with a member of the RPC who is no longer here, thank fuck. Because of my poor coping skills and extremely fragile mental health at the time, he managed to keep me in a social isolation until I finally left him in 2021. And I mean true social isolation; I wasn’t allowed to talk to anybody but him. (I literally had to lie and pretend like I was having internet troubles if I even wanted to open up another chat box on Discord to talk to somebody, because he would literally point out the amount of minutes it took for me to respond to him.) He tracked my location in real time with GPS. He controlled what I ate when we spent time together irl. He forced me to quit one of my jobs before, because he wasn’t pleased with how busy I was. Any free time I had, had to be given to him. I had no identity, no autonomy, no sense of self.

Since I left him in 2021, I’ve been in a long process of learning how to be a human being again, how to exist around multiple people, and how to monitor my energy levels. It’s been hard, and, there’s a lot of times where I have to learn that I am adapting to an entirely new way of life. I used to be able to write a lot of thread replies, ask replies, and drabbles in a short period of time, but, my brain just does not do that anymore. And it makes me sad, but, I know that my RP partners understand my situation.

I cannot emphasis how much going from *one* person to— well, a lot of good friends has been good for me, but also a difficult experience in itself, because I’m still fighting with my own hypersensitivity and paranoia.

Choosing to come back here was one of the scariest decisions I have ever made. And, even though I don’t vocalize it, I actively fight trauma responses every single time I open Tumblr— not because anybody is doing anything to me, but because the experience I went through was so deep.

That’s why I’ve been trying to take a minute to sit down, and send some nice words to everybody. You never know what somebody is going through. *Nobody* knew what I was going through, because I hid it so well— because I was forced to. We’re all human beings, on this rock, and we all chose to sit here and write, whether because it is a coping mechanism, something we’re passionate about, or because it’s simply fun. And I think that’s really, really beautiful.

I don’t think I’m ever going to be the same, energetic Rex that I once was. And I wish I could be. But that is okay.

So, for the people who welcomed me back, and remembered me: thank you for accepting my return, and accepting my apology.

And for the people who didn’t know me, who have become my friend lately: thank you for giving me a chance.

I’ve lost a lot of people, both friends and family, in the past decade or so. Nobody can fill those gaps, but, you guys make me feel a lot less lonely. Believe it or not, I don’t have many friends irl, and I really don’t know what I would be doing with myself right now if I hadn’t chosen to come back to Tumblr.

I wish there was more I could do to help uplift everybody who has been having a difficult time lately, I really, really do. But, at the end of the day, I cannot; what I can do, is point out that there’s at least *one* person out there who wants to see the best happen for you.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I just want to be a good person, despite of the horrible things I was called by my abuser, and I hope I am doing that.

[lex9923]

‘Honestly doesn’t seem worth it with the absence of willingness to hear what I have to say.’

My guy. I can’t imagine why people wouldn’t want to hear what you have to say.

First of all, your initial tweet was worded poorly, so you can’t fault people for misinterpreting your intentions (though you never did actually clarify outside of “criticizing both sides of the culture”). It is extremely hard to decipher tone and intention on social forums, but even more so for neurodivergent people; I am one of those people and was confused why you’d wait 8 months to say something about this. I still am not sure what your intentions were nor what the tone of the video was going to be. Glad I won’t have to find out.

Secondly, “I’m a public figure and people have discussed my trauma publicly” and they shouldn’t have. It’s fucked up to talk about another’s trauma at their expense for your own gain. They should be allowed to discuss it on their own terms, in whatever way they see fit. You did that and are trying to move on. Dream did just that and is now trying to move on. As is everyone else. Reopening old wounds, wounds that are still fairly fresh will only cause more harm. Just because people have done it to you, doesn’t give you the go-ahead to do it to another person. No one should be discussing your trauma, his trauma or any trauma that isn’t their own.

I appreciate you listening to the criticisms and stopping the video before it started, however; this new tweet comes across as a little bit whiny and misguided. It seems like you’re whining that people are upset that you considered making a video about someone else’s trauma without actually hearing why people were upset. ‘People were saying I wouldn’t want it done to me’ they were. Cause, again. It’s fucked up for others to discuss something that affected your livelihood, mental health, and career so deeply. Some do it better than others, but it’s still fucked up.

But you’re still failing to understand your situation and dreams were on two totally different severities. Talking about it now would cause a massive hate train, yet again, when it’s not needed. His house address was trending nearly daily, his younger sister (who, if I’m not mistaken, was still a minor at the time of the first allegations), parents, and even grandparents were drug into it- and they are not public figures (therefore making that argument null). You had to face reveal (and I’m incredibly sorry that the opportunity to do it on your terms was ripped from you because of some fucked up individual), whereas people were telling Dream to off himself. You received an incredible amount of respect in others responses, before you cleared your name, and now even after. He never got that, and still hasn’t. You’re still treating this with a lack of understanding, as if someone’s life wasn’t severely affected by it, when it’s someone else’s trauma you were going to “dissect”.

If you hadn’t waited 8 months, people might be more inclined to listen. However, dreams trying to move on, the fandom is trying to move on, everyone involved is trying to move on; why can’t you? Why do you think waiting 8 months to discuss a trauma that isn’t yours is okay? Why did you think it was going to be received positively, especially after your poorly worded tweet?

Dream was a victim of false allegations and a smear campaign. You were also a victim of false allegations. Both situations are horrible, but to compare apples to oranges is incredulous. I haven’t seen many people mention your situation, and that happened months before dreams. Yet, people still bring up dreams. The situations are not comparable and should not be discussed by you or him or anyone else. Your trauma is your trauma. His trauma is his trauma. Thats where it should stay.

People are going to talk, and that sucks. I would hope that since you have been through the same situation, you’d be a little more empathetic as to why it took dream so long to respond (he was under legal advice not to say anything). This just comes off like you never actually watched his video or if you did, you didn’t listen. You heard, but you weren’t listening.

I’m so tired of people discussing things that aren’t theirs to talk about, and further hurting others in the process (I’m referring to all commentary videos on both situations here but since you’ve experienced something similar, I’m calling you out directly in the entirety of this post). Leave this be. Don’t go reopening wounds that have just started to heal- for you and for him.

I’m so disappointed in the continuous lack of empathy shown by you toward him. Do better.

That’s all I’m going to say. Hopefully, this doesn’t become a thing, and it ends here.

[shouldhavestayedawayfromhere]

TW: mention of self harm & suicidal thoughts

I don't usually post a lot of personal stuff like this but I kinda wanna share this one because it's important to me.

Today marks the day I'm 3 years clean from self harm. I'm really proud of that and I told my close friends and family about it, too. They were all very happy for me. But I remember a time when I was still in that cycle when some of them made it all about religion.

I know of people who weaponize mental health as a way to prove that their religion is real or that another religion is not real. I heard the "god freed me from my [insert serious mental health issue]!" too many times. I'm actually so sick of that.

A deity can certainly support you on your journey, but it will never rid you of mental illness. My depression were so much worse when I was still a Christian. I only got out of it because I let go of that. And even though I'm now also receiving help from my deities, I would never credit them for making me overcome serious issues like that.

Religion is not a substitute for professional help!

Due to my parents being super religious, I never received the help I should have gotten at the time. So me being 3 years clean is almost a miracle and I wanna take this opportunity to stress this point over and over again.

If you're struggling, get help! Praying can only do so much! When you tell someone that them not being a good enough worshipper is part of the reason they are struggling, that's going to harm them! You're blaming them for their own illness!

I was told horrible things by my religious family members at the time. One person even told me that I could do it (suicide) if I wanted to, but it's a sin and I'd go to hell for it. This ended up being a big part of the reason why I left Christianity.

My "testimony" is something a lot of religious people might not like. But even after becoming a pagan, my mental health will always be only my business. God didn't make me stop self harming, neither could've any other deity.

I overcame this addiction because I wanted to. I refuse to give credit to any supernatural entity that couldn't even respond to my prayers. It's my doing and I'm incredibly proud of that. I want everyone out there who's also struggling or has at some point been struggling with mental health to know that your religion does not matter when it comes to your life.

Your life will always have the first priority to me. Couldn't care less who you worship, if you're telling me that you're sick, you are just that. Sick. And no amount of worship is going to change that.

Anyways, happy 3 years to me and shout-out to everyone dealing with similar stuff. I see you and I'm rooting for you all 🫶

[ithaquasbbg]

Day 3 yay! ☺️ I am writing early today

Wherefore art thou thyself? - Ithaqua x Reader

Pairing : Itha x reader <33

TW : some kinda self loathing thoughts and like mental health bad 👎. This is a hurt comfort fic where the reader like,. Comforts Itha or whatever, some mentions of murder and stuff.

….

“Why are you like this?” Ithaqua asks himself, staring at his own reflection in the mirror as he tries desperately to fix every little imperfection he could possibly find. He spends hours every day staring at himself, wishing that he could look different. Wishing he didn’t look so much like his brother. Nathaniel had broken Ithaqua’s mother right in front of his own eyes, making Ithaqua’s face unbearable for him or mother. At least in Ithaqua’s own eyes, maybe even those of his mother, he was the very example of a monster. He holds his head in his hands, the pain of looking at himself becoming too great.

“Why couldn’t I be any different?” He asks through tears, trying to keep himself quiet as to not disturb anyone in the rooms around him. It’s difficult, having to look like the very person who had caused him so much pain. The person who had torn his life apart, his family broken. “Why do I have to look like you?” He asks, watching the tears run down his cheeks. His entire childhood, mother had told him he was a good looking young man. But now, Ithaqua couldn’t see himself as anything more than ugly.

“I’m a monster.” He whispers, covering his eyes with his hands as if to keep himself from seeing something horrible. Everything he had ever done had no matter for as long as he looked identical to Nathaniel, he did not have his own identity. Nor did he believe he deserved one after what he had done. After what his look alike had done. Eventually, these thoughts all become too much and he finds himself unable to hold back the sobs he’s been repressing for god knows how long, his entire body shaking.

“Nobody could ever love a monster” he whispers, laying his head in his hands as his breathing becomes erratic. All he wants is to hide from the world, to never show his face again. His mother died thinking of him as a monster and he knew it well, he knew that she no longer saw Ithaqua as his own self either, simply viewing him and his brother as one in the same. He had always wondered what would have happened if he had passed along with his mother after all those months of suffering, would they be in the afterlife together? Or would mother still be horrified of his very existence?

If he were to gouge out his own eyes, would he not have to see that horrible face of his anymore? Would he be freed from the guilt that drowns him? These thoughts are too much to bear at the moment, and he finds himself unable to move his mind away from them for what feels like hours until a knock sounds from the door to his bedroom.

“Ithaqua? Are you alright in there darling?” He hears you ask, a tone of worry evident in your voice as you knock again. Realizing he would only worry you more should he not respond, Ithaqua slowly stands up, wiping his eyes and walking over to the door to open it. “God, you look terrible..” he hears you say this and takes it the wrong way as almost anyone in his situation would. But he cannot be mad. No, in fact he agrees with this sentiment.

What knocks him out of his thoughts is your actions afterwards. A soft kiss on the forehead as you close the door, leading him to his bed to lay down. You sit next to him holding his hand. “Ithaqua, what’s the matter?” The mere question makes him crumble into your arms, unable to hold back the pain he’s been feeling for such a long time. “Every time I see my face I think of him..” is the only thing he can say for a few moments, laying there while you stroke his hair gently like his mother used to do. “I can remember his face when I killed him.. the way he was begging me for mercy.. it feels like I killed myself..”

You knew he had troubles with his face, the way his expression would drop when he’d see his own reflection. Even telling him he looked pretty could get to him on the worst days, this seems to be one of those. “I wish I didn’t look so much like that monster, (name). I can’t even see myself as my own person anymore.. I only see him.” You continue stroking his hair gently, getting the small knots out while you listen to him talk. “Itha, darling.. look at me please” He lifts his head from your chest after this, allowing you to cup his cheeks in your hands and wipe his tears.

“I love you so much, you are not even remotely like him, Ithaqua.” He seems unconvinced but leans into your touch, yearning for any of the comfort he can possibly get. “You’re sweet, caring, friendly.. there’s so much about you that is nothing like him, my love. You’re not a monster.” You kiss his forehead before continuing “I love you for who you are, hell, you could look like a monster and I’d still love you. You’re so lovely, darling”

You can see him start smiling when you say this, holding you as tight as he can. Ithaqua starts to cry again, but this time they seem like happy tears more than anything. Within a moment, you feel his lips on yours as he pulls you in, his hands gently rubbing your cheeks. “I love you so much, (name). What would I ever do without you?” He chuckles as he gives you one more light kiss on the forehead. That night, you two stay in each others embrace, holding each other tight as you both slowly drift off to sleep

-end-

Hurt/comfort bc after the last two things I’ve wrote I think it’s necessary…

[espeonkin]

Honest question: Why do you refuse to speak a word or even share anything against Israel during this time as someone who has connections to it? Why does defending your view of otherkin and furry drama come before defending the real lives of innocent people being killed?

Your online space is ultimately yours to choose what you do with, but this silence is deafening. Pouring blood sweat and tears fighting against some dumb kin jokes made by a few young teens, yet refusing to make a peep over real life genocide and ethnic cleansing being done by a place you frequently visit, is concerning, to say the very least. Please think about this and do better.

hi, i want to preface this response with the fact that while i am going to try to be as eloquent as possible in this response, this is a stressful topic, and i'm probably going to misspeak or forget to include certain things i mean to say because this was an additionally stressful message to receive. i don't want to come off as though i'm refusing to speak at all, though, which is why i'm responding now, instead of after I've had a bit more time to process everything you've said to me.

first, i'd like to address you saying that i "have connections" to israel and "frequently visit" it. i have absolutely no connection to israel. i have no family that lives there, and i have only been there once, four years ago. the only "connection" i have is that i'm jewish, which i don't consider to be a legitimate reason to say i have a connection to israel or especially its government. is that what you're insinuating here? because i'm jewish i'm connected to the state of israel? when i was there, i was personally very uncomfortable with how militarized everything was and frankly wanted nothing more than to leave, but it was a vacation with my family and rabbi, so i couldn't very well leave and go home on my own. and again. this was four years ago and before i was better informed on what the state of israel has done and is continuing to do.

on that note, the reason why i haven't been speaking on the current events related to israel is because it's a very stressful topic for me and i've been going through a rough mental health patch as is already. i can't begin to describe how horrible it feels to hear the constant claims that these are being taken in the name of the religion that i was born into and holds such deep personal value to me even still. i never asked for this. my jewish friends never asked for this. do you know how it feels to have your parents so thoroughly indoctrinated by propaganda that they call you a traitor to your religion for not believing every word that comes from the israeli government? to try so hard to help them unlearn the propaganda only to be met with such thorough resistance? so. please forgive me if i'm trying to make my little corner of the internet just a bit less stressful for me to exist in.

as for the "why is it more important to you to defend your views of otherkin" part, it's because it's less emotionally taxing for me than a literal real world genocide. it's something personal to me, and i'd like to be able to talk about it when possible, but I would like to emphasize that there have been periods where even this has been too much for me to handle and i've had to back off from the topic at points.

i don't like being told to "do better" here. because the fact of the matter is that i know my limits and talking about a literal genocide for weeks on end is frankly not within them. continually exposing myself to travesty when i know it's not within my limits isn't activism, it's emotional self harm. i also would like to know where you heard that i "frequently visit" and "have connections to" israel. or is that something you just came up with because i'm jewish?

i hope i addressed things eloquently enough. sorry if this isn't what you wanted to hear, or if i forgot anything in efforts to make a faster response. i hope this answer is sincere to you.

[system-of-a-feather]

(TW: talk of suicide, not me, just experiences of being on the support end)

So I'm continuing down my training and the part that I'm currently on is reviewing the crisis line phone call methods and talking to individuals on said crisis line and man

Growing up I was basically an on call text crisis line for at least like... six adults, four peers, and like six "by proxy" individuals since the ten that used me as their crisis line sometimes needed me to help them help their peers. As a teen it was something that distracted me, gave me some sense of control, purpose, and belonging in a trauma environment and also - in a codependent / counter dependent sense - made me feel safe in the relationships to be needed by someone. Plus, it kept me alive, because I was "responsible" for keeping so many people alive. If I killed myself, those that I was caring for would inevitably follow shortly after. Its probably the number one reason that despite our huge trauma history and DID and all that stuff, that we have *never* attempted.

(Its also the same reason why I originally started this blog; albeit in a healthier way; I had actually left the website I was involved in that space in because a lot of them were really just being toxic and abusive @ us and I got fed up and found tumblr had a better mediation / boundaries between support provider / mental health discussion and people receiving it; I still needed the niche at the time in my life, but I needed it in a place that was less self destructive)

But I spent a lot of my teenage years dealing and responding to crisis situations chronically and honestly, I have / had really bad survivors guilt from the two that "I failed" and that I still don't know if they are alive, dead, or have gotten better on their own and moved on in life. There was a SHIT ton of trauma I had from that coping mechanism I picked up; most of which I've mostly processed, but suicide has become a topic I'm incredibly accustomed to talking about.

And honestly, there is a lot I could probably say, both about the good and bads that came from it

But honestly, I think one of the most impactful, meaningful, and powerful experiences I've had - the one that really stuck the most with me even among a lot of the trauma that literally haunts me - is the one time when my writing partner had really been backed into a corner and was really set on killing himself and there really was no good response that was honoring to the situation at hand. There really wasn't a silver lining, there really wasn't a point in leveraging our projects, life was really fucking horrible, garbage and not going to get better; large plans that were going to help him went down and I literally could not reasonably get any mood boosters and at a point, it really kind of hit me that the usual routine we had, my 400 suicide response scripts and response patterns just were not working.

And so I just kind of chucked it out and gave up on trying to convince him to not kill himself. It was rational, it was fair, anyone in his situation would be suicidal, hell I would be and it'd be fake for me to try to argue for life - anything that I did would come from a selfish place and thats obvious. And I just kinda went "Okay, I get that, but hey, if you are going to kill yourself anyways, can you do me one favor? If you are going to die anyways, can you humor me and just, leave? Leave home. Nothing worse could happen compared to what you are already planning to do, so please just humor me and leave."

And there really was just a still moment - something we both talk about and reflect upon a lot - where it just clicked in him and he went "okay" and like... literally just left and really hasn't been back since. He went through a lot of shit, but he's grown and improved his life so much, he has good income, owns a house and his own stuff, is back in college, and is honestly getting access to good therapy across the world from his family and of all the thousands of crisis situations I've responded to - including the ones where I "failed" and might have "let someone die" - I really find that one conversation is the one that *really* sticks with me the most

I think out of all the moments in my life, I think that one in particular gave me a lot of insight into how much just being the right person at the right time saying the right thing can really make this large and huge change in the world and honestly that when it comes to people in active suicide, there are a LOT of practices, safety procedures, tactics and routines you can do to make sure someone is safe, de-escalate, and convince someone to live a bit longer; but sometimes honest to god, trying to do that really can just push the issue down until later and invalidate / undermine an individuals autonomy and understanding of their situation which can help somewhat I guess in the short run, but that autonomy and respect for an individual to weigh out that ambivalence they make when they stop their plan to actually like... reach out for support, it's pretty important to respect and understand that people don't feel suicidal for no reason and to just ignore the completely valid reasons is not necessarily in best practice.

And I was going to hesitate in saying "best practice" because that phrase Means Things, but I am literally just going through evidence based best practice training for Crisis Professionals and I can say that it really isn't best practice.

I dunno, I'm writing a bit of a reflection and taking a break from the training (encouraged) since it was a bit personal but like.... I really honestly also think an important take away is also that like... Being the person responding to a person's crisis is a high stress position to be in and its a lot of emotional labor on the person responding

But even then, being the person responding to it can be immensely impactful and meaningful and rewarding to the individual responding and people that are there, voluntarily, on their own accord, and actively wanting to help and be an open ear, are doing so because its something that works for them and something that helps them / does them good.

I have taken on trauma, survivors guilt, and what not from my role in this, but genuinely, I still enjoy being able to be in that position for the people I care about and even in a professional sense. It's easy to feel like a burden when you are throwing these heavy topics at someone, but there are people that actively want to and ENJOY being able to be there for you and to have these conversations.

These sorts of experiences have given me a lot of insight into myself, others, and the world that have become really foundational to some of the traits and values about myself that I love and respect the most. I regret none of them and I don't think any of them were a "burden" to me.

Consent and all is obviously important and thats the large caveat, but genuinely, let people who want to be there for you be there for you. Its can be life changing for both of you. It can be life saving for the both of you.