#your continued existence actively distresses me

[barbie-necromancer]

fuck fuck fuck you! You stole my friend from me and I can never get her back without seeming like a giant bitch

[drdemonprince]

If you’ve never been all that disobedient before, you can and should start really, really small. For example, you can wear the slightly revealing or gloriously trashy-looking garment that makes your mom roll her eyes and sigh despondently every time she sees you put it on. You will feel judged and disapproved of when you put it on, but that is fine. Your goal is to sit with the uncomfortable feelings and continue with your desired behavior anyway.  Saunter down the steps in that highlighter-yellow Garfield crop top with your chest hair flowing over the neckline, and harness as much courage as you can muster. It’s okay if you feel like a beacon of sin. Just keep it moving. Your emotions are not the target here. Your behavior is. You can feel however you are feeling in the moment so long as you keep acting like you’re free.  Do you have a favorite TV show that a partner or roommate vocally hates? Try watching that show around them without apologizing or defensively joining them in mocking the program. At first, you probably won’t be able to enjoy the show while in their presence. You’ll feel self-conscious about everything they find annoying or cringe-inducing about the show, and so focused on their reactions that you can’t relax. That’s okay. Allow those feelings of embarrassment and guilt to exist and pass through you without giving up. In time, you will be able to ignore these reactions more, and enjoy the activity.  You want to see the needle of discomfort moving down just a little, like Link’s body temperature meter in Tears of the Kingdom when he puts on a breathable outfit in a hot climate. You’re not gonna go from roiling hot to frosty cold in an instant. But after a certain point, you won’t be actively in pain anymore. Things are just gonna slowly suck less, bit by bit, until they are finally okay. That’s true of most major life adjustments, I find.  Probably the best way to develop self-advocacy skills while growing in your distress tolerance is simply by telling other people no. Do this without explanation or hedging. Nitpicky aunt wants to hear all about your dating life? “No, I don’t want to talk about that.” Unreliable ex-friend wants you to do them the tiny favor of moving their entire home gymnasium into a new third story walk-up? “No, I’m not available.” Manipulative shift supervisor wants to cajole you into sticking around for another three hours to close? “No.”  As many advice columnists smarter than me have already intoned, “no” is a complete sentence. “No” requires no explanation. “No” is not subject to debate. “No” can be repeated over and over like a broken record if a disrespectful person acts like they can’t hear it. And you can walk away at any time to make your “no” physical and impossible to argue with, when someone has proven they don’t respect your boundaries. 

you can read or listen to the full piece for free here

[amiizuki]

(a 2 weeks late repost of my comment from this Reddit post, cause I forgor)

things RWBY "teaches":

if someone lies and hides info from you – beat them up, yell at them, and then proceed to later do the exact same thing they did to someone else. except this time consider whoever tries to call you out for lying evil

if, after you run away without explanation, one of your friends decides to follow you and try to help – slap them in the face repeatedly and berate them loudly

if a person, who previously helped you and your friends multiple times without expecting much in return, is on edge and looks like they're on the verge of a panic attack – scowl at them the whole time, like they murdered your family or something (add bonus scowling and start thinking of them as pure evil, if said person also starts to call you out for betraying and lying to him earlier)

when it comes to forgiving and offering redemption – only offer it if the person in question is female; if the person is male then continue villainizing them or kill them altogether

if your overly stressed sibling is having a meltdown in front of you – scowl at them, while protecting your date from said sibling, as if they were an insane lunatic ready to kill

if you see your friend/sibling commit sudoku, once again, in front of you – watch it happen, without even attempting to stop them, and then spend some time having a group hug with your friends, before remembering about your dead friend/sibling

bonus stuff, that were said by other people in that same comment thread:

also a somewhat long addendum to the 3rd point, because rewatching the Gravity scene, to grab screenshots of Yang's face, somehow made me angrier than it did the first time I saw it:

lemme fucking tell you, that Yang did not start to scowl at Ironwood after he called RWBY out for being lying hypocrites. her angry face, in fact, appeared the moment he started talking! sure, at first it looked more like a slightly confused scowl, but a scowl nonetheless. girl even had her hands in fists already, like c'mon (at least during the moment when Ruby realizes Cinder was the one who left the chess piece, Yang's hands aren't visible in earlier shots, so I can't tell if she had them like that the whole time or not)

so this potato sack looking cunt, who supposedly had PTSD and should supposedly know how it looks and feels like, saw this overly stressed man, who ALSO has PTSD, and who just got faced with an image reminding him of one of the most traumatic events in his life, starting to freak out about the safety of his people and kingdom, and, again, overall looking like he's about to have a full on panic attack, and her gigabrain idea was to fucking SCOWL the whole time he's talking. wowww Yang, what a nice and kind thing you're doing there! I can feel soooo much sympathy coming towards this distressed general, who you actively lied to with no remorse by the way, from your ugly ass scowl. this will definitely help to deescalate the situation and calm Ironwood down, and it definitely won't make him call you out for being a lying shithead and throw your desaturated blonde ass out of the window.

oh, but I guess Ironwood isn't a cute catgirl named Blake, so he doesn't deserve anything more than an angry look from Yang. makes sense, considering Ruby isn't a cute catgirl named Blake either, and so Yang constantly forgets that she exists, only remembering Ruby when it's time to scowl at her, call whatever she's planning dumb, or when it's time to go drink boba and go shopping with her, instead of spending that time planning on how to defeat Salem who has 2 or 3 relics.

[holdinbacksecrets]

Cuddling with vernon

Spending casual time with him, watching movies and eating ice cream. When you get ice cream near your lips, he'd kiss it saying "cute" It's all so sweet and lovely. Holding you, being the big spoon, playing with your fingers and hair. Kissing you hands, cheeks, nose, neck, ETC. ETC. :(

It's just so simple yet so cute

:( i love hansol so much, and he’s so boyfriend to me, but in a different way… maybe it’s all the weird in him yet he’s also so wise and i appreciate his perspective so this all just aids the boyfriend energy and the comfort that cuddling would bring

he’s definitely someone i imagine doing lots of ‘spending time in the same room doing different things’ bc he just wants to soak up as much of you as possible, and he’ll eventually push away whatever he’s been working on and capture your attention through a soft touch or call of your name. maybe he motions to your room or the balcony if the weather is lovely, and sinking into his arms is an unbeatable experience. you can feel any pressure on your bones release. anxiety in your mind is softened. your heart warms.

maybe you continue to exist in the same silence as before, just closer. maybe random thoughts are shared, interrupting the quiet peace in gentle waves. perhaps you talk for hours now, recharged by your solo activities.

his fingers card through your hair. your hand is on his chest, a leg between his own. the ceiling fan creats a rhythm that would certainly lull you to sleep if you weren’t so engaged by hansol’s words.

kisses meet your forehead. an i love you fills your ears. he tells you a story—shares a memory that isn’t in your catalogue from years ago, from those early days when you were still figuring each other out.

it’s always a strange sensation that embraces you when a loved one shares a past experience of you, coming to know about the way you’re left in another’s life, the way your energy, your smile, your gaze feels to someone else—the way it’s often different from what you imagine: oh, that’s the shape of my imprint.

he tells you about the vacation he took to see his family two weeks after your fifth date, and he talked to his sister about you in the kitchen. she’s a better cook than him, but he helped by cutting veggies and measuring ingredients. her entire face lit up as he told her about you. about the skirt you wore with oxfords and a university sweatshirt—your mom’s with fading letters and a distressed collar. about the tea you ordered but waited for twenty minutes to drink because lukewarm is better than a burnt tongue. he told her about the sun’s glow on your skin and his surprise to see your eyes stay wide open even when the brightness found them. he wondered how long it’s taken you to do such a thing—be able to handle it. he called you that night and packed a t shirt he wanted you to have and a cd too, one kept from middle school. you whispered on the phone. it’s something you’ve only done with him when the telephone rings at night. he asked you why, and you said something about a tree outside your window—staying quiet for it or else it’ll call on the wind to make its branches bang your glass. that was the moment he knew.

you peer up at him through long lashes, hazel eyes holding love and surprise and a sprinkling of awe for the man who’s nearly beneath you. he’s about to be as hands guide you to straddle his waist. hansol hums like he doesn’t understand your expression, but he does. he just wants you to say it, wants you to look at him like this for the rest of the afternoon while tracing the lines on his face.

what your heart is doing, the way it’s swelled, is sweeter than moonlight. the wanting is all over you. the wanting to know every other thing he’s kept with him. wanting to share moments your mind clutches and unravel memories, realize which are shared or only known by one. you find yourself wondering if this will be a forever routine. hopefully

[theyungihven]

The Demon's Infatuation • Sex Demon Yunho

CHAPTER 2

↬ pairing: dom demon yunho x sub female reader

↬ genre: smut, romance

↬ warnings: breeding kink, cream pie, pain kink, unprotected sex, hip bruises, biting kink, slut-shaming, choking kink, hard core dom yunho, yunho is OBSSESSED,

↬ word count: 1.2K+

↬ author’s note: this full novel length fic is a dedication to my boyfriend alex and the demon that visited me at night two years ago every full moon night

Summary : She's just an innocent heartbroken girl who just wants to be loved for once despite her flaws and imperfections and he's a wicked demon who wants nothing but to corrupt her soul to till all she can think of him. What can go wrong if he takes a little interest in her? Heaven along with Hell are not going to collide with the Earth, or will they?

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @yunhogrippers @haram-monbebe @atinism @yvnhoos @st4rhwa @lomons

“So I teleported near the old city. And then, I got this strong whiff of blood.” I tell San.

We sit under the neon lights on the barstools as we rest our hands on the bar counter. The brown wood creaks under my weight, a reminder of its ancientness

I feel the bartender’s eyes widen with every word I say, as if he’s a columnist and writes the infamous gossip column catered to making the most scandalous secrets known to hell’s residents.

However, I don’t care enough and continue about my latest endeavour to a very uninterested San. The fellow demon looks like he will jump into the holy water any moment, if given the chance to cease his existence.

“I saw a girl on her knees begging someone to love her.” I say and a small smile greets his lips. “She looked delicious and I’m telling you, she smelled sweeter than an elixr.” I continue and the bartender bends down to access the lower cabinets of the counter, all while his eyes stay hooked in my direction.

“And what’s better than trapping a human in distress? So I thought, why not make my presence known? And then, mate,” I chuckle as I remember the moment she ran inside and the look that crowned her face when she noticed my shadow form, “she has the audacity to recite verses, but she couldn’t even do that right.”

“Humans are pathetic, I'm telling you." Dante agrees with me as he smiles a little, his lips thinning but not even curling a degree up whatsoever for some reason unknown to me. My heart skips a beat as my smile drops.

The clitter clatter of the glass and the chatter of the demons inside the infamous club Hell’s Inferno is constant, with fights erupting every now and then, like an active volcano.

However, today, it is eerily quiet in the dead of a full moon night.

It is unusual, but I enjoy the bourbon in my hands.

I swirl it around while taking a little peek at my dear friend, San who is playing with the end of his tail. He looks very odd today, as if he has fucked up real bad and is now going to be banished from hell. His skin looks pale as if he’s losing his colour from malnutrition.

However, as from the latest gossip and news about the duo’s latest adventures also according to the not so quiet whispers, celibacy isn’t the case.

“Mate, you look like you prevented a sin.” I say, as I place my bourbon glass on the counter and stare at him. Nothing but worry fills my heart.

“Nothing.” he replies lifelessly as if he has given up on reality and accepted defeat.

“Then, the fuck is wrong with you?” I scream.

Everyone in the club looks at me as if I tempted a human to commit a good deed.

I take a deep breath in order to calm myself down and then say,

“How’s your girl, San?”

“urm…she’s doing…umm…well!” Dante shutters. He then gulps his drink all the way and stares at the glass.

My suspicions and the word of mouth which had travelled to me earlier this week were indeed true.

Dante did associate with an angel, committed treason and is next on line to getting banished from hell.

“You fucked up big time, mate.” I chuckle as I say, swallowing the bitterness on my tongue which attempts to slip but I don't want to hurt Dante anymore.

“I know, I know…” Dante sighs. He then takes a deep breath as he corrects his posture.

“I FUCKING KNOW OKAY!” He slams the glass on the table as he stares at me dead in the eye.

“What are you going to do with this girl though?” Wow, now I am the main focus of the conversation. I look up at Dante as I lick my lips, refreshing my memory at all things I’ve been thinking to do with her.

“Tempt her, seduce her, get so deep into her mind” I say as I swirl the drink which the bartender refilled in order to infiltrate our privacy.

I gulp down the whole thing in one go and slam it on the table.

“That she’d desperately crave me like a drug.” I finished, and Dante’s reaction to my words is magnificent. He looks like a human when they see me in my demon form for a split second in the corner of their room as I give them my charismatic smile.

“But how?” Dante asks as he looks at me all confused.

I get up from the barstool and walk closer towards Dante.

“Good things take time, my dear.” I pat Dante's shoulder as I continue, “but wonderful things…” I lean in as I whisper into his ear, “takes a good strategy and patience.” I say, then lean back, flashing him my trademark smile as I turn around and make a dramatic exit which leaves everyone gasping.

[lazyyogi]

Hii, I wanted to ask how to actually have the patience to meditate because I don't have any. One benefit of meditation IS patience, but it is also a skill that requires patience. Whenever I meditate I can only think of how boring it is and how I just want to finish it. Eventually I just give up. I can't even meditate for 2 minutes. It's way too hard for me. How can I improve? Thank you in advance 🤍

This is like asking how do you have the strength to lift weights. Yes, it does take some measure of strength to lift anything at all. But it is by lifting weights, enduring the discomfort, and continuing to do so over time that you develop more strength.

That said, developing the motivation to practice meditation can be helpful.

If we approach meditation casually, it can be difficult to focus. We may feel like we can just do this later when we have more time and feel less bored. Or maybe we think meditation just doesn't work for us.

There are certain thoughts that are helpful to examine regarding meditation practice:

Precious Opportunity. Although it may seem like a simple activity, I would argue that meditation represents the pinnacle of biologic evolution at this time. Meditation is an activity that can really only be undertaken when all of your biologic needs are met: you are physically safe, you have had enough rest to be wakeful, you are not too hungry nor too full. Furthermore, you are not subjecting yourself to the endless array of activity that involves seeking pleasure and avoiding displeasure. And lastly, you are turning consciousness upon itself to reveal the reality of self-existence, or awareness. These are an unusual combination of causes and circumstances to allow us the simple action of meditation. Meditation truly is a unique practice of immense biologic privilege, and it is backed by an ever-growing body of evidence.

The impermanence of life. We may feel as if we have time to meditate later, or meditate another day. But the truth is that we are mortal, we will die, and we do not know when we will die. This is very important for two reasons. The first reason is that by contemplating and accepting the fact of our inevitable death (not just in our heads but in our hearts and guts), we will quickly find things clarified. We will lose interest in that which is meaningless, and we will search for that which is meaningful. The intensity of that search is related to the intensity with which we feel our mortality. The second reason is that by appreciating the uncertainty regarding our time of death, we will not delay our practice for another day. Today is what matters most; we cannot presume to rely upon tomorrow.

Meditation works! Even just a casual googling of the various evidence-based studies regarding meditation's effect on the brain and body will yield a fascinating plethora of findings. Meditation alters the structure of your brain in just 8 weeks of daily practice. Meditation alters the expression of your DNA starting from the very first day of your sitting; it downregulates NF-KB, which is an important player in the cascade of inflammation in the body. Meditation changes our perception of pain such that it causes us less distress. Meditation increases our capacity for compassion. The list goes on.

Don't just read all of this and absorb it in the form of intellectual knowledge. See the lines of contemplation I am pointing toward and contemplate them for yourself. Until these thoughts become your own lived understandings, they are all lies.

When it comes to meditation, there are a few important things to keep in mind:

It must be a daily practice. Choose an activity you may pair it with, such as meditation before you brush your teeth every time. Don't ask yourself if you feel like meditating, just do it.

Set a timer and do not get up until the timer has gone off. Even if you are bored out of your mind, no matter how chaotic your feelings may be, just sit through it. This is like the burn of exercising. Eventually, however, it does change and go away. And that alone will change your life.

Scale your practice as needed. While its good to work your way up to longer sittings such as 30 minutes or 60 minutes, it is better to sit for 5 minutes every day than to sit for 30 minutes now and then.

Lastly, reading spiritual books are also helpful in giving us the motivation to practice. There are so many out there, you just need to find one that speaks to you.

Much love, I hope this helps.

LY

[infrared135-36]

ngl this is such a disturbing sentiment but I suppose it’s the end result of things like “content creator” + “lost media” obsession + entitlement + the increasingly normalized thought that if it’s not posted on social media it didn’t happen. You guys are talking about shit like fan art made by single artists in their free time as if it’s an indie darling film that never got a physical release. It’s NOT YOURS even if you “really really really like it” or it totally “changed your life” or whatever. Take a screenshot and save it to your desktop. An artist can delete the work they share for free online whenever and for any reason and you have to accept this. Another PERSON made the work with their own 2 hands, I know the line gets blurred in the digital age, especially now that people are basing a lot of their self worth and personality on media they consume, but this isn’t a machine spitting out AI drawings. the artist behind the work makes the final call on everything. No piece of the work is yours. So many people on that post are saying it’s selfish to delete and “clean up” your social media and foolish to get rid of old artwork to see where you came from (“tree rings” etc). You know not everything has to be posted online to exist, right? These works can still be saved offline in a sketchbook or desktop. A lot of younger artists now seem to think they need to post everything they make online or it isn’t “real” , and then subsequently this creates anxiety about making any sort of art in the (eternal) learning process that doesn’t look perfect. My advice to less experienced artists (and more if they need it) is to actually be LESS precious about your sketchbooks, especially in the digital age. Try doing a bunch of warmups or something completely out of your comfort zone and then rip the pages up. It’s freeing to physically practice and not feel like the process is documented forever, especially if you have anxiety about starting anything. I saw a call for art notice about a “sketchbook” based show where you would have to cut pages out of yours to submit to the gallery. The boomer and genX artists in the comments were losing their minds about the sanctity of their sketchbooks and one of them even likened cutting pages out of it to being sexually violated. I find this a truly creatively stifling mindset and it really cemented for me the importance of being more loose and free with the work you create.

The event that showed me how grotesque the “I’m entitled to your work” mindset can get was what happened to fanartists and the creator of the Wonderlab comic for the ongoing protest/boycott of Project Moon and their gambling game Limbus Company. Over the summer PM fanartists mass deleted their related art and sometimes entire accounts to protest the antifeminist actions of the company. This is not artwork they want shared anywhere anymore, they are literally boycotting the company and yet folders of their deleted work were getting passed around publicly by people who felt entitled to it. The users continue to be dedicated to the boycott and with their exodus have significantly dropped Limbus Company’s revenue and daily/monthly active users. The creator and illustrator of Wonderlab, a comic commissioned by Project Moon, filed to have her work taken down from their site due to their antifeminist actions and the request was granted. She does not want this work circulated and does not want to be associated with PM. Following this action, fans re-uploaded the entire comic to google docs and reposted it frequently all over social medias, a lot of which (going by their comments) was to spite her. She got some of the reposts deleted which spiked a huge harassment campaign against her with PM fans laughing at her distressed twitter posts across places like reddit and 4chan, and calling her hysterical for saying pornographic illustrations of the child characters from her comic were disgusting. It was disturbing to watch unfold to say the least. This is a dangerous mindset to slip in to and it seems like the sentiment just keeps growing. This is NOT “lost media”, this is the art version of “the right to be forgotten”.

[springtrappd]

i do not know how to explain to you people that the reason vanny doesn't have any on-screen kills and continually gets shafted and defanged at every possible opportunity while ggy is allowed to brutally murder people and be, like, a thing at all is because of misogyny (excluding the censorship of the more modern games, ofc). like. i have to keep saying this over and over and over again because apparently it is not clicking but misogyny is not an active action, it is not a state of being, it is the foundation upon which society rests and you are thus an unwilling participant in it. remember how scrap baby was used in promo material for pizzasim and then barely does anything except get interrupted for henry's monologue? remember when tfc rewrote its protagonist into a damsel in distress who contributes literally nothing to the plot except to be a prop in the story of the men around her? when tfc (again) made circus baby a sex object? how the majority of female characters who show up in frights stories are simply love interests or accessories to the central male characters? how way too many girls who do end up being protagonists are punished for shit that happens to them, and suffer fates disproportionately worse? what was the original vehicle through which we learnt about vanessa?

and don't "um, actually" me, because the semantics here aren't important -- you're just derailing the conversation to fixate on details that don't matter, because my point is that the bigger picture is misogyny. and that is scary and awful and sucks shit! it does! but it's also just the way the world is, and that won't change if you keep putting your hackles up every time someone points it out. and that doesn't mean feeling guilty or punishing yourself for it. don't do that -- it doesn't do anything except centre the conversation around you and your individual feelings, which is not only a bad way to engage with politics but makes people feel bad for talking about it at all. to say "this is rooted in misogyny" is not a moral judgement, nor is it a failing on you for whatever reason; it, like misogyny, simply *is*. you do not blame the garden for growing weeds, you blame the gardener -- and to remove the infestation you must acknowledge it exists in the first place.

[drivinmeinsane]

Gosh i like the ken and pecan fic its so goofy(and cute!), funny fic like this tickles me and i want more!

Maybe something funny like clumsy stalker you x driver who totally acknowledge your existence.

Or maybe ‘try to make Six laugh challenge’ sth like that.

Again, ty for all the nice fics!

I'm glad you liked it! I loved both your suggestions, but I went with the Driver and clumsy stalker prompt. I hope this little drabble is satisfactory! (●'◡'●)

{ masterlist }

※ Summary: You're not as stealthy as you think you are. Driver can only let your stalking continue for so long.

※ Rating: 18+ for mention of explicit content

※ Word count: 861

Your hands are shaky while you frantically scribble on a page of the notebook you’re clutching. Your eyes dart between the paper and the man you’ve been following for countless days. Trailing after him should be thankless work, but it’s not, not to you. Every glimpse of the quiet, nameless man feels like balm applied to a festering wound.

Driver. You can’t stop thinking about him. He haunts your every waking thought. You’ve had too many of those these past few days. He hardly ever sleeps which has led to you living the same lifestyle. You’re never rewarded for your diligence by the sight of him settling under the covers, but once you got something better instead. There was a very memorable night where you swear he looked you right in the eyes as you stood on the fire escape peering through his window. He had taken himself in hand, leather encased grip tight around his erection and got himself off. His gaze was locked onto the blinds the entire time, and didn’t falter even as he came. His head lolled back on the wall behind him, a challenging expression in those blue eyes. You had almost bitten through your lip trying to keep silent. Thinking about it sends a distressing warmth through you. 

He’s a difficult man to keep track of and you lose sight of him constantly. He’s also unsettlingly observant. You’ve long since lost track of the times where you’ve had to quickly try to hide because he’s turned to stare in your direction. Sometimes you're certain that he’s looking right at you, his eyebrows raised. His routine is simple though. You keep a running list of each activity he does. You’ve discovered that his entire world revolves around cars. His time is broken up between his shifts at the garage, stunt work, performing as a getaway driver, working on his own car, and driving in his own free time. He rarely gives himself the time to eat or sleep. In his down time between stunts at the movie lot, you’ve seen him fidget with a rubix cube and endless paper coffee cups. It seems like he has a hard time keeping still. You’ve wondered more than once if he’s lonely.

Too distracted by your reflection on the object of your interest, you make a critical mistake. Your stalking game comes crashing down the minute you trip noisily into the side of a recycling bin. You try to muffle the sounds that you accidentally caused, but it’s too late. Driver stops dead in his tracks on the way to his Chevy Malibu. He pivots and looks directly at you while you try to feign nonchalance. It’s futile, you’ve been caught. There’s a cold recognition in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. You swallow and look away, the notebook falls out of your suddenly weak hands when you register that he’s walking towards you. 

He crowds into your space, toothpick in his mouth. His expression is neutral despite nearly pinning you to the brick behind you with the presence of his body alone. He’s unreadable.

“Who’re you working for?” His voice is calm. Too calm. 

“No one!” You gasp. 

He grabs your upper arm. Hard. You try to pull from his grasp, but he only tightens his hold. You feel tears start to prick at your eyes.

“Then why’ve you been following me?” He asks. Of course he’s seen you. You could kick yourself for not being sneaky enough. You should have known someone like him would catch on almost immediately. 

“I saw you leaving your apartment one day and I couldn’t stop wanting to see you.”

He’s silent for a long moment, contemplative. You feel like he’s going to grind your bones to dust, the grip he has on you is so strong. You don’t dare push him by trying to break free again. He’s not patient enough for that. You’ve seen enough of him to know not to toe the line here. You cringe as he finally glances down at the open notebook at your feet. It’s open to a drawing of him that you had hastily done while he sat in his car earlier today. Notes are scattered on the page in careful handwriting. Your face feels like it’s on fire. 

“I’m sorry. I made a mistake!” You blurt out. That gets him to pull his eyes away from your work and back to your face. 

“Did you?” His tone is softer, almost intimately so. His hand shifts and he rubs his thumb over your skin, letting up on the crushing pressure. Maybe he’s not disgusted by you. A tendril of hope blindly takes hold in your chest. 

You look him directly in the eyes and repeat his words back. “Did I?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. It’s a little lopsided. You see a flash of his teeth. It’s predatory. He takes his hand off your arm, but you make the choice to chase it. Your fingers collide, tangling together. The leather is soft and warm against your palm.

You let him guide you to his car.

[xxhappy-chickenxx]

in a follow up to my reblog from @jynxed13, i wanted to share Thoughts on the situation and essentially back up why i left and would encourage others to stay away. disclaimer is that i'm white!! so i wasn't directly impacted by the racism but as a human being who contains the ability to be empathetic it got to a point where it became abundantly clear that there would be no meaningful change.

i want to start w the fact that the channel where all discussions of the original racist incident plus the mod follow ups plus a lot of racist nonsense were all purged yesterday, so unless you were there for it and actively following along there's no "proof." i can say that a mod was racist to a server member and abused their power, and that select other mods were content to let that remain private knowledge and let the mod gracefully 'step down,' but again, you'd have to take my word and the word of BIPOC server members. idk how far that goes on the internet when nobody knows me but at least it's out there.

what is especially distressing to me is that to anyone new to the space, or to anyone who was happy with the dysfunctional way things were, it looks like nothing is amiss! it’s a very strange feeling that i haven’t encountered before, because in physical spaces, there’s a certain level of accountability you can hold people to (or maybe I’m naive and inexperienced, or have been lucky to exist in spaces where that’s the case). erasing it doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong, and deleting messages or banning members w/out warning (which also happened yesterday) doesn’t erase the past or how people feel. the longer the server continues to delude itself that that is the case, the more their community will fester.

i'm sure they're thrilled! anyone who stood up to them is out! doesn't seem like they'll face any consequences for it, but that's for the universe to decide.

i want to appreciate the time, labor and energy of the people who have been harmed and acknowledge the hurt this has caused and the absolute shitshow it's been. none of it was deserved (and again, that doesn't come from a place of dick riding, it comes from basic decency, but anyway) and all i can really say is if your approach to fandom isn't decolonized, i'm not interested ✨

[loverboy-cc]

TWs: Talk of pedophillia, child abuse, and my frustration with the internet, purity culture, and stigma.

Please do me a favour also, and read the post to the end before saying anything to me about it. For our mutual sanity.

I am going to combust if I see another kill all pedophiles post.

Pedophile is a diagnosis that requires you to experience significant distress about your attraction. Or to have actively found a child desirable and acted on that desire. (The latter is extremely likely to be a minority but due to the stigma few are willing to voluntarily come forward to be studied)

If you think it is okay to find fictional minors attractive, but do not have interest in them irl, (ie people who consume loli/sho) you would not classify as a pedophile.

Assaulting a child you do not find attractive does not make someone a pedophile, it makes them an abuser.

Alas, purity culture has once again moved the focus away from the actual abusers and onto predominantly innocent people who genuinely do not want to harm anyone.

If you’re queer or poc or mentally ill or marginalized in any way that should sound horribly familiar.

Please for the love of god, if you’re someone who says all pedophiles deserve to die. Read the diagnostic criteria and if you still think that after you have, block me, please. Because at that point you are knowingly saying a lot of innocent people should die, as the actual abusers rarely turn out to be pedophiles.

Here, I’ll even save you the effort of finding it. This article cites the DSM directly and saves skimming the incredibly dense book that is the DSM

I can’t link it directly because that’s illegal but there’s a full copy of the DSM-5 if you search “DSM-5 Reddit” and use the top link. As of posting this the link works, if that changes let me know and I’ll update this accordingly.

Pages 697-700 for those interested in reading the full piece.

I’m not typically one to talk about my opinion of this in public because I know for a fact there’s going to be a mass of people who will do exactly what they’ve been trained by purity culture to do. React with outright disgust and horror without being willing to consider that they’ve been manipulated so that child abusers can continue to abuse children while their victims burn anyone who dares question them.

But I’m tired.

I have a lot of experience with heavily stigmatized disorders. I’m schizophrenic, autistic, and have SCPD. I’m also visibly queer + trans in a heavily conservative area. So the the idea that person with X disorder is a threat to children is very, very familiar.

I’m also a CSA victim, and it’s… Sad, watching other victims allow abusers to continue existing in the shadows while perpetuating the stigma that keeps said abusers hidden. I’m aware of my privilege as someone who is educated on the manner and as someone with the resources at my disposal along with the knowledge of how to take advantage of said resources.

I suppose that’s why I decided to actually write this out publicly. That way people who may not have otherwise known can educate themselves and form a stronger community that evicts actual abusers and not predominantly innocent people trying to recover from one of the most stigmatized disorders someone can have, or people with questionable taste in porn when more often than not said porn is harmless.

Here’s another article, this one talks in depth about whether or not fictional loli/sho nsfw actually encourages pedophillic behaviour and urges from a sociology perspective. With papers and stats to back up it’s points.

It also talks about whether or not loli/sho can even be considered pedophillic at all, along with the general impact of porn on sexual violence. It’s a very good and informative read if you have the time.

It ALSO acknowledges bias in the studies it cites, and how that makes the opinion drawn from the study less valuable.

Gods this is long, take a snack, and have the day you deserve /neutral

🍮🍪🍩🍎🍟

[esorydoolb]

Death Star (a piece of Starfield writing)

a/n: dang I just remembered that I'd been writing down my experience of playing Starfield as a sort of personal log of my captain .. unfortunately not all of it, but a nice chunk of the main story up until the encounter with the hunter. 5k words! that I totally forgot about, which is why I didn't continue writing it (I got sucked too much into the game to keep up with it), but now the document resurfaced and I'm baffled it even exists. it's like finding one of your old diaries lol. interesting! to read the adventures of baby-alan (my spacefarer).

Ok I remember why I wanted to write down certain events ... I actually felt really emotional when I played through them. Prime example .. the Hunter encounter. so here's a piece of fanfic that I never intended to publish, but I'm doing it now anyway, raw and without proof-reading because it's literally supposed to be

a journal entry after the events of "High Price to Pay", from Captain Alan's personal log

Death Star

warnings: major character death and spoilers.

My pirating activities were put on hold. I entered the coordinates to grav-jump us into orbit around Jemison, in order to secure the newest Artifact piece at the Lodge. 

Something was entirely wrong. As soon as I stepped foot into the now welcoming familiar place, I took a turn and headed into the basement to clean and adjust my weapons. It took me about a minute to realize that it was eerily quiet around me while I fiddled with the magazine of my Maelstrom assault rifle. Irritated, I made my way back upstairs to see Sam, Noel and Mateo gathered around the Comm Table. Vasco uttered something about Noel sounding distinctly distressed. That's when I paid attention to the feeling in the air. Something big was lingering there. Something monumentally big, like the size of a natural disaster. I joined my friends around the table. The feed showed a frozen image of the Eye – nothing spectacular, since it was usually quiet in space. 

Noel sounded indeed distressed. No reply from the Eye. No new video images. I asked what the situation up there had been, before the communication to the Lodge had been cut off. Then a voice interrupted us. Vladimir's. 

He was in immediate danger. Being hunted, threatened for his life. His words were breathless, even shorter than usual. I wanted to know about the others – Barrett, who had been stationed up there to help fix the computers. Vladimir said something about a lot of blood, sounding horrified, and my own blood froze in my veins. My mind had already formed a decision. Every word that came afterwards became harder and harder to focus on. Only, it was the voice of a stranger who spoke up next, with so much ice in his spoken threats that I involuntarily shrank away, shivers spiking my skin. The Starborn was on its way to hunt us down next – and the Artifacts, right here in the Lodge. Sam had reached for his Coachman, looking more alarmed than back when we were rescuing his ex-partner. Or maybe it was my own perception of the situation that made every alarm bell in my head sound. 

We had to defend the Lodge next, the Eye had already capitulated. At that moment, nothing really registered in my brain. I had already formed a decision, and I was going to go through with it. I told the others that I would rescue our friends. The Artifacts played no role for me! What was a breakthrough in the exploration of our universe worth in the face of saving our loved ones? Sam seemed confused about my choice of priority, his face portraying a mix of determination and concentrated fear. The Lodge didn't have any defenses – save for Coe, Vasco, and some scientists. I looked Sam hard in the eye and told him my final words. I wished them good luck. As I turned around, my stomach formed into hard metal and my fingers gripped my weapon like an anchor, an anchor that could secure the life of my friends and not make me hesitate even in the face of death. Somewhere deep inside, I had the conviction that I could trust Sam to defend his friends just as well as I intended to do, that I could leave things down here in his capable hands. Perhaps it was a thought born out of our recently developed trust and friendship. Or I imagined myself to know him better than he himself maybe did. When the piercing cry of Walter shook me out of my tunnel vision, I bit my teeth together and forced myself to walk away.

It was the first time in a long while that I was traveling without a companion. Even Vasco would have been a great relief instead of this newfound loneliness. But I couldn't go back. I knew I had to do this on my own. Moara was still guarding the ship, and I got there as fast as possible. Without a word, I sat in the pilot seat and lifted off. The iron kept close to my side, I embarked on the most important mission in my life up until this point. I couldn't imagine the state Barrett was in right now. I had to see it with my own eyes. 

I had never piloted my ship this flawlessly before. The docking module attached like a helping hand reaching out to me. My friends were in need of my help. The space station was quieter than I liked. I couldn't see anything amiss, except the overbearing sensation of everything having gone horribly bad. I headed through the right-hand airlock first, and my breath spluttered. Barrett, sitting half-upright on the floor and grasping his side, faced my way. He had the audacity to joke about his ineffective charms in this situation, and I wanted to close my eyes and breathe a sigh of utter relief that he was alive. I took his shivering hands into mine and studied his condition. He expressed his gratitude for my appearance, and it was clear to me that he could have given up the fight without me showing up in time. I gave him some first aid and watched miraculously as he got up on his feet before urging me to keep looking for the others. 

Sarah, Vladimir and Andreja were somewhat in a stable condition. Their reports matched up, describing a supernatural enemy who took them by surprise and attacked them mercilessly. With every word, I feared more what awaited our friends planetside. I let them know my thoughts and helped Barrett and Sarah board my ship, while Andreja and Vladimir stayed behind to catch their breaths. I would never know if I truly regretted my decision to leave the Lodge in the first place. I had acted on pure instinct, prioritizing my friends before the Artifacts, not realizing that the Starborn was after the very same. And that this monster didn't care what would happen to those guarding them. 

The regret was gnawing at me as I hurried to land the machine safely on Jemison. Everything seemed fine as I saw the front door of the Lodge – and then, nothing was. 

Destruction. Ash and rubble. Something indescribable had swept through the inside of the place. Not angrily, but deadly, like a dying star taking with it the life of anything that had previously blossomed in its light. The first person I recognized was Sam's lifeless form lying in a pool of his own blood. Barrett, even in his hurt state, hurried to pull his friend into his lap, cradling his face, muttering no no nos. Cora, I absent-mindedly registered looking down onto her father, crying in denial. Me, I hastily ran up to Sam, deep regret lodged into my throat as I kneeled to check his vitals. And found none. No matter how much I wished for it, nothing would ever make him move again. This wasn't what I had wanted. This wasn't what he had deserved for his life. 

I registered the movement of Vasco, Mateo, and Sarah, who mentioned that we had no time to stay here and grief. Noel and Walter were still missing. 

But Cora, she was alone and desperate, shouting at her dad to come back to her. She didn't acknowledge my words. And she was absolutely right – it was my fault that it had ended this way. It felt like a sharp knife stuck in my throat. I had done this to her. Sam's life, slipping through my own helpless hands. His corpse, peacefully resting there in his crimson lifeblood. Every dream he had had, every careful effort to protect his daughter – shattered into irreparable pieces. Barrett's pained voice brought me back to reality. We could – we would – mourn his passing later. Right then, I remembered the feeling of cold metal pressed into my hands, a deadly weapon to avenge my fallen comrade. It was the right thing to do, to hunt the one who had hunted us first. 

On the first floor, Walter looked like he had aged a few years more than he could handle. But his voice was as firm as ever, ordering me to follow Noel, who had managed to escape holding the Artifacts. The three of us who were able to fight took the basement exit through the Well. We didn't have to search for long, as Noel had barely managed to move with all the metal weighing her down. There was no time for exchanges. Out of thin air, the Hunter manifested into space, an unidentifiable form of light and body mass. I fought to keep my cool, firing every armor-piercing bullet in the chamber of my pistol, not seeing it have any effect on the alien form. I tried using my powers on him, with the same lack of result. The realization hit me that this was not the moment to let my emotions take over. If I wanted to avenge my friend, I had to make it out of here alive, and that meant to retreat from the enemy that I wanted dead most of any living being in the universe. Fear overrolled me at that moment, leaving me devoid of any rational thoughts except of the instinct to escape as fast as humanly possible. Luckily I was still in full armor wearing my suit and jetpack, and the oxygen meter repeatedly lit up with warning signs of depleted resources. Distantly, I heard the screams of multiple civilians caught by the wrath of the Hunter. The pain in my chest from running away instead of helping to protect them fueled in return my strength, and I swore to myself that this would not be the last time we met. Pure chaos unfolded on the way to the Spaceport. These innocent people had no way of explaining the horrifying events. I still had only one goal in focus. To make it to my ship, with the Artifacts and my friends in one piece. As I fell into my piloting seat and switched on all systems for lift-off, it felt like we were caught in a bizarre nightmare. Space was our escape. The infinite black sea that was Sam's favorite place. 

Barrett confirmed that we should regroup with Vladimir, who could make sense of what to do next. Sense, that was the keyword, because nothing in my own head seemed to add up to form a logical thought. I acted on auto-pilot, racing the ship once more towards the broken Eye. Of course, we were not alone. A huge ship appeared out of nowhere, yet again. This time, the voice coming through the comms sounded like that of a master playing with his toys. Hardly irritated, moreover, like it was enjoying this little game with its surprising turns. It sardonically expressed its amusement in reaction to my confusion and submission. I just didn't want any more deaths on our side. If it meant kneeling in front of the enemy, so be it. It almost came as a disappointment when the Starborn dismissively exclaimed that it would leave us alone, for now. Something was predestined to happen, and I was supposed to play a major role. As if all that had occurred between the Hunter's arrival and now had been completely pointless. Life went on as before, with Constellation still in possession of the Artifact collection, which the Starborn had called the 'Armillary'. Not as if the Starborn had officially waged war against Constellation.

In the meantime we had left Vladimir and Andreja, they had come up with a first damage report. The fact that the Starborn were looking for the Artifacts just like us, implied that they needed us and the Eye to find them for them. Now we had to decide where to keep them so they didn’t have the chance to catch us off-guard again. It was a tough choice. I leaned towards hiding them on a far planet, where there was little civilization and less chances of being tracked down. But that also meant leaving them in a hidden stash, unprotected. Barrett made the decisive argument that on my ship, at least we could always have an eye on them and they were never in the same place. He could also help me improve my ship building knowledge. I needed a proper warship for this. It was not the best solution, I still felt plenty of anxiety about my new job as guardian of the Artifacts, but we couldn’t have the same mistake happen a second time. 

When I entered the devastated city once again, it was raining fire and ash. Every step felt heavy. The recent events had changed everything. I hadn't realized it until it had been too late, but today I had lost a true friend, a respected father and an explorer after the heart of his ancestor. In the end, he had died a soldier who had put his life on the line in order to protect the values he'd been living for, as a part of Constellation. He had worried about his past mistakes. He had worried about the safety of his daughter. He had wanted to do everything better to redeem himself for her. I had appreciated his calmness when we had traveled the vastness of outer space. It had been a comfort that was hardly noticed when it was there, but then, it was dearly missed when it was gone. Every time I would look at the Armillary, I was reminded of him. This feeling of helplessness and guilt. 

I worried about what it meant for me and for Constellation. The first thing I wanted to do was drink myself into a stupor. Just to numb the pain, but I knew I could never forget. The pain of having a comrade taken away from you without warning. It changed my perception of the balance of power in the universe. Who had the right to decide over matters of life and death? Was the unwanted violence in any way justifiable if it meant survival? Could I continue my life unstained by displaced morality, fighting for a system of justice that was easily broken and upended by mysterious, uncontrollable unknowns? In all of this, there was no doubt about the true enemy we were facing. The Starborn were merciless monsters who abused their powers to torture and manipulate us. There was nothing humane left in them, if there ever was. It fostered feelings of undeniable ire in me.

[exuberantocean]

One of the things that stands out about Ted Lasso is how it tackles difficult, traumatic issues like abuse and suicide.  While the show has an overall positive philosophy on the exterior the show is…not exactly dark but definitely unflinching in the way it depicts these issues affect people.

Which to me, makes it particularly distressing how these storylines are often shared and discussed in the media.�� Because I’ll often see them self-censored or watered down. Ted “found his father after a gunshot wound.” 

Nate’s father is “strict and demanding.”

Jamie’s father “yells at him” after the game.”

Rupert’s infidelity is often mentioned, but his emotional abuse is ignored.

So what, you might say.  It’s just a show.  And talking about these things can be uncomfortable, triggering even.

Except not talking about these things doesn’t help victims of abuse or people suffering from trauma.  Turning a blind eye and ignoring issues never makes them go away.  But worse, watering them down actively hurts victims of abuse.

Because for a lot of people who are abused, it’s surprisingly hard to label it as such when you’re in the relationship with your abuser, especially (but not solely) when it’s emotional abuse.  The last thing you want to do is perpetuate the idea that these are not examples of “real abuse.”

Because let’s be real here:

Ted basically witnessed his fathers suicide.

Nate’s father AND much of the team abused Nate.

Jamie’s father is verbally and physically abusive.

Rupert emotionally abused Rebecca.

These are examples of abuse and trauma.  These characters represent what people are really going through in the real world and it’s important to affirm that this is, indeed, abuse and trauma.  That you have a right to find these kinds of behaviors painful.  That there is nothing wrong with you if you are hurting because you were treated like that.

I can go on about how mislabeling what these characters suffer from distorts and weakens each of these characters storylines especially for Nate, who suddenly goes from being one of the most nuanced characters on the show to a flattened caricature of a villain with no apparent motive once you take away his trauma.  Moreover, there’s probably a lot more to be said about the intersectionality of abuse/trauma/mental health and racism that I am qualified to say, other than the fact that Nate’s storyline mirrors Rebecca’s in many fascinating ways and yet she’s given a lot more sympathy and forgiveness than Nathan Shellely.

But, I think it’s important that we recognize that real people living their real lives are seeing their own struggles in this show and when other people watch and go off saying that Nathan’s dad is just “strict” or that Jamie’s dad argued with him or whatever, it’s not just devaluing what Ted/Nathan/Jamie/Rebecca’s going through, it’s also telling that person who sees themselves in those characters went through as “not that bad.”

There’s also a certain irony that part of Ted’s difficulty overcoming his father’s suicide is the culture of silence around things like this, and yet the media continuously will water it down and mislabeled it.

I do know that these topics can be and are triggering for some people.  That’s why proper trigger warnings exist.  Just like I’ve tagged this post so it can be filtered out.  A simple: this article/video will discuss/mention suicide/abuse/etc at the start allows people who may need forewarning the ability to make informed decisions before deciding whether or not to watch/read it.  Watering down the content, however, is very much not the answer.

[gray-lord-cat]

ACTIVE SOARING - Reiner x OC fem reader// CHAP 1 "White dreams"

“White dreams”

YEAR 845

“Vickyyy”

No, wait

“Vicky”

Just a little more, it’s that dream again

“Victoria!”

I need to know how it ends

“Victoria Orpheus”

Shit, it’s gone. What was… that dream? I can’t remember it anymore. I hate this feeling.

White dream id the feeling of having had a dream experience without being able to remember it entirely. I hate it.

“What is it, Manon?” I ask my sister while rubbing my eyes, still distressed about having my dream interrupted. I haven’t slept well in a while, I hope I don’t end up with Dad’s eyebags.

“They’re back! They’re finally back!”

“Who’s back?”

“The Survey Corps”

I let a big yawn and roll under the bed sheets again. “okay”

“Well?”

“’Well’?” God, please, let me rest

“Aren’t you going to come with me to see them? Come on, we don’t usually travel to this part of the Walls! It’s an opportunity that we can’t always have!”

“Yet, you always sneak out to see them. Every. Single. Time. Sometimes you even run away for days just to see them. And mom always gets mad at me for getting you out of sight.”

“And I always beg for forgiveness and get the beating.”

“You’re not sorry though, if you still do it.”

“No, in fact, I’m not” she winks at me

I sigh and close my eyes again, ignoring my insisting twin sister.

There’s no doubt she’s my twin, we’re the same, physically speaking. Sometimes not even our parents can guess who’s who. Our art name, the one that the circus fans gave us, “The Twin Redbirds”, speaks for itself as both my sister and I have curly red hair. We are amateur trapezes, under the guidance of our mother, Miranda Orpheus (before Jaques) alias “Moira”, the main trapeze dancer of the circus.

However, Manon and I know very well how different we are.

Manon is impulsive, stubborn, and direct yet very empathetic and childish. Even though we travel a lot due to the traveling circus, she always managed to make friends thanks to her friendly and extroverted personality. However, partially being my fault, she suddenly grew this habit of seeing the world in black and white.

Thanks to our aunt Lara, we secretly grew to share her curiosity about the world beyond the Walls and decided to see it for ourselves. This led Moira to develop a scornful attitude towards anyone content to live and die within the Walls' confines without ever setting foot outside. As a result of this, he greatly admired the soldiers of the Survey Corps, regarding them as "heroes" and wishing to join their ranks as soon as he became eligible for enrollment. She also developed a marked lack of self-restraint that often led her into trouble, causing me, Mom, dad, and the entire circus to worry. 

I know, she knows. We obviously don’t care, but our differences are causes of many fights.

“So you’re fine like this? Like an animal in a cage? Trapped in here?”

“Please not this again, I just woke up”

“You agree with me, I know you do. I know you want to seek the truth but as much as me. Don’t you want to see the ocean, people who don’t look like us, to be able to speak new languages, to try new food, to pet mysterious animals? You said you always wanted to see a zebra”

“We don’t even know if those books tell the truth and if any of those things exist”

“… why are you like this now? You were so eager to investigate and now you’re like these”

“what to do mean?”

“Since Aunt Lara died, you lost hope to look further the walls. You are like a slave to this hypocritic lie the monarchy foisted on us”

“you know why. If we continue we are going to end up like her. Dead in a tremendous way. I don’t want you to get hurt, or worse die. I love you, you’re my sister, you can’t leave me. Also, lower your voice when you give voice to your thoughts.”

“…pussy”

“excuse you”

“you heard me. You’re a pussy” I can see her sly smile, I know she’s teasing me, even though I suspect she mean it this time.

“you little-” I throw my pillow to her face as she dramatically falls on the bed and tries to tickle me

“c’mon Vi, don’t you wanna see Commander Erwin Smith all bloody and swe-”

“Manon!”

This time I’ll go with her.

I’ll follow her every chance I get. Just to know she’s safe and happy.

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

“They're gonna open the front gate!” she’s too excited to see the suicidal corps. And Commander Erwin Smith.

“Yes, Manny, I can see it”

“c’mon, let's go see the heroes return, Vicky!” She takes my hand and drags me closer to the anxious crowd. With the corner of my eye, I see a little boy, possibly my age, doing the same exact thing to another little girl on the other side of the road. Ah, the dreadful fate of older sisters (me being older by almost an hour is a privilege I always rub in Manon’s face).

“Damn! I can't see… ah here! … they're the only ones who made it back?”

“Everyone else must've gotten eaten”

There’s an uncomfortable silence between the people watching. The young ones are watching the soldiers in a stupor, some whisper prayers of comfort, others are looking at them with pity, others with disgust, I can see mothers looking for their children

“Moses! Moses!”

Oh no

An elderly woman with gray long hair and poorly dressed stand out of the crowd and stops a soldier, grabbing him by the collar.

“Excuse me, I don't see my son Moses anywhere. Do you know where he is?”

This is Moses' mother.

“So you’re Moses' mother. Go get it.”

I swear I saw her eyes light up for a moment just for the realization to hit.

“It's all we could retrieve.”

The soldier hands her the remaining of her son and she slowly unwraps them, frenetically. It’s his arm, Moses is just an arm now.

“But... my son...he was helpful, yes?” the woman falls to her knees and tries to blather, her eyes staring at… nothing really, even if her head is turned to the soldier in front of her.

“Even if he didn't achieve direct greatness...surely my son's death helped humanity fight back, yes?!” she screams scratching her throat up as she cries hysterically.

Silence. A blow of wind seems to rouse the brown-haired soldier.

“Of course...!” he shouts, trying to comfort the grieving mother

Silence again

“No... On this latest scouting mission, we...No...Just like all the other missions...we achieved nothing at all! My incompetence has done nothing but needlessly send soldiers to their deaths! We haven't found out anything about them!”

Well, shit

“let’s go” Manon whispers to me. I see tears forming in her big eyes. As I said she believes in the cause, but she’s just an empathetic kid. Still, I silently nod a take her hand in mine, walking away.

“the show is in a few hours, maybe it will cheer up the village” And you, Moira. You always loved to fly

“Don't try to cheer me up, I’m not sad,” said the tearful girl

“I just stated a fact” I shrug and then kiss her cheek, like she always does me

“Thanks, Vi”

“Anytime”

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

----------------------------------------------------------------------------Heyy

this is my first fic ever and English isn't my first language so I apologize if I get something wrong. I do accept criticism so please help me improve my writing skills. As for "Active Soaring", I want it to be almost like a side story where the OC (who will be in close contact with the other major characters, of course) has her own character development and dream to achieve. The story still is a Reiner x reader, but it will be a slow burn (not too slow, but a little angst considering Reiner's development in the manga).

thank you if you've come this far reading!

[schizosupport]

uhm, hello hello! i'm very awkward + nervous so please forgive if i make any mistakes or sound weird. i'm psychotic, (and i also have a special interest of psychology but that doesn't entirely matter), and i have a couple of questions.

i know that disorganized thoughts are symptoms, but to your knowledge is it common for psychotic people to have sort of like episodes where they just get.. really confused? i call it 'perma-confused' as a title because i don't know what else to call it. for me, it's hard to understand what anyone's saying to me, even if it's not big words or anything, and it takes me longer to form coherent sentences and thoughts. it's also relatively hard to carry out specific tasks i'm instructed to do when i'm like that, sometimes i just.. stop functioning and i go blank for a bit, it's really easy for me to experience disorganized speech+thoughts, and these episodes tend to last for an hour or two or more (i've had some last for a day or two).

second question: do you know anything about or have any advice for delusions that were really big and prominent but sort of.. faded to the background instead of going away? (cw for talk of a delusion here) i had a delusion a couple years ago where when i interacted with any media with zombies in it (of which, zombies and zombie viruses are an interest i've had since i was a kid, so it sucks, and completely came out of nowhere) i'd be filled with this overwhelming fear that a zombie apocalypse Would happen. i'd tend to get in a loop of refreshing my google feed for five minutes or more checking to see if any news about an outbreak showed up. it caused nightmares and horrendous panic attacks. after a Very long while-it took months-it sort of faded into.. background noise. as in it's still there, but it takes prompting to actually affect me and occasionally can be triggered easier when i'm more paranoid but otherwise is just something i have to be careful about.

Hey there! Thank you for the question!

Ok so the first question, about whether it's common to have episodes of confusion, I would say yeah, definitely! I certainly struggle with that, and I know that many others do. It's often part of the internal experience of disorganisation or a good old fashioned shutdown. For me, it often happens when I'm tired or pressured. My thoughts will get stuttery and my speech breaks down. Carrying out motion let alone simple tasks becomes increasingly difficult. I think the flavour can be different for different people and for the same people at different times. Sometimes it feels like a type of dissociation, other times it is more of a catatonia related thing (though being that catatonia is described at the behavioural level it can also come with several different internal experiences).. anyways my point being that states of confusion and difficulty parsing and producing language and thinking clearly, is very much a thing that can come with psychosis and psychotic disorders.

As for delusions that fade into the background without going away completely, that's a rather common pattern. For some people it's very much that they either are or are not delusional. But for lots of folks, delusions fade in and out of prominence. And it's not uncommon to have lowkey residual beliefs that still take up some space, but aren't a huge focus the way they were when they were a very active delusion. As for advice, I don't know what I can give, beyond to say that it's good to try not to dwell on it. It's allowed to be there, it's hard to purge it entirely, but since it's causing less active distress by itself, try not to be too distressed about its mere continued faded existence, either.

I have had delusions fading for years and some of them have all but disappeared. So it's not to say that it can never go away. But shooing them off never really worked for me. A lot of the time they seemed to stick around because they represented some feeling or stressor in my life or psyche, and they didn't go away until those circumstances changed.

Anyways, hope any of this was helpful. Have a good day!

[circulars-reasoning]

When it comes to "syscourse" (a.k.a. someone's actual lived experience that shouldn't be called "discourse".) You really do need to decide what side you're on. Either you're an ableist anti-endo, or you accept that people have different experiences with being a system. You can't be an ally to a misrepresented group if you see endogenics and tell them "I'm indifferent to your suffering." The same works with any marginalized group.

I have picked my side. My side is “I openly and actively support endogenic plurality and defend those who are being harmed by misinformation. I also call out people on both sides for spreading misinformation. I also would like to focus more on my actual lives experiences and my own disorder, rather than someone else’s origins. I personally do not care about the “origin” debate beyond correcting the misinformation that you can have a system caused by a complex dissociative disorder without trauma. I also cannot call myself pro-endo, due to trauma and the harassment I’ve faced. I cannot call myself anti-endo, due to trauma and the fact that the label doesn’t describe me (despite what others seem to believe).”

I just figure Syscourse Unaligned is shorter.

Also btw I don’t view syscourse as “actual lived experience that shouldn’t be called discourse.” I want syscourse to be discussions about controversial topics in system communities. If you notice, I genuinely rarely post about origins. My latest two big posts were about PluralKit and about System Relationships. I post often about how littles aren’t l literal children, about gender and identity in DID, and about dysfunction vs distress.

Please let me just exist and call out my actually harmful behaviors when they happen. Until then, I’m going to continue being me and doing my thing.

And for anyone else out there reading this: you never need to “take a side” in syscourse. Nobody needs to participate in these discussions if they don’t want to.