#like yes she is hurting herself but it’s a COPING MECHANISM. she’s coping with something. help her with that don’t just take away her penci | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raisedbythetv89 · 10 months

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To me, I don’t think Buffy or the audience can ever truly know if she’s in love with angel or just in attachment with him. I believe she is just in attachment and especially before innocence and after his encounter with the first, just full on enmeshment with him. No boundaries whatsoever, his pain is her pain (which is extremely common in parentified children who feel they have to protect their parents from their pain like what buffy does with joyce), just like how she describes her feelings towards riley later which is NOT a good thing, empathy is good, taking on others pain as if it’s your own is extremely unhealthy. (Yes I’m pulling on my psych degree for a tumblr post, human behavior and buffy are two of my special interests)

What I mean by “in attachment” is that she has all of the same anxieties and insecurities about angel that she does with her father. Angel’s erratic and unpredictable behavior plays on her anxious avoidant attachment style SO AGGRESSIVELY. He keeps showing up, giving her little information at all and even less about himself and then vanishing leaving her hanging, and anxiously wondering about him which can mimic thinking you’re romantically interested when really it’s just an unresolved problem you desperately want to solve. She has a lot of valid criticisms about him before they’re officially together about his inconsistencies, him treating her like a child, him being too old for her and then all of a sudden she’s saying she wants to die when they kiss and that she loves him (after he forces her to say she loves him before he’ll tell the truth about drusilla). That is exactly how falling into attachment goes. Once you’re hooked all your feelings that are caused by a bad relationship with a parent are projected onto the partner who you are unknowingly recreating that dynamic with which is why such intense and strong feelings can happen so quickly and suddenly you’re ignoring all concerns you had before forming this attachment with someone.

He’s not her soulmate, he’s just the first guy to treat her like her father did and if you don’t address that cycle the relationship is recreating it can be impossible to move on because they will ALWAYS feel like something is unresolved and if you don’t know why you feel that way you can misinterpret it as true love or destiny because why all would you suffer so much and still love them if it wasn’t? It’s a mistake SO MANY of us make in our romantic relationships and these portrayals of unhealthy attachments being sold to us a soul mates doesn’t help us at all.

She does it with Riley also but she walls herself off so she doesn’t get AS attached to him as she did angel but their relationship is still her trying to fix the relationship with her father by changing herself so maybe this time he’ll stay. It’s why his opinion still matters so much to her when he comes back in season 6 despite him being a truly awful person to her who has done nothing but make mistakes and whose opinion should not matter to her at all after everything he put her through. He is another pseudo father figure she craves approval from.

It’s why I love her relationship with Spike so much despite all the bad they go through before season 7. We know her feelings are real because Spike doesn’t play on her anxious-avoidant attachment at all because he is ALWAYS there even when she’s mean and claims she doesn’t want him there. And to me everything they do to each other makes perfect sense, their relationship is exactly what two people with severe trauma and one with anxious-avoidant and one with just anxious-attachment going into a relationship together looks like. You hurt each other A LOT because you’re working out all your issues with each other and they don’t have ANY help from a therapist or someone who can help minimize the hurt so they both just use their worst coping mechanisms and the fact that they go through all that and still get to be together and happy and healthy on the other side is just everything to me because that so rarely happens in the real world, where you get to be with the person who was also a catalyst for healing and having to go through all that suffering together only to have to start over -hopefully from a much better place - but still with someone else BLOWS. So Spike and Buffy to me are about hope and healing (including the unpleasant and very ugly, dark parts of healing people rarely talk about) and getting to do each phase of that with someone AND enjoy being happy and whole together is just UGHHHH I love it so much.

#spuffy

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romanestuffsposts · 8 months

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Hi idk if you are taking requests but if you are can do angst/fluff with stucky of a little reader to hits herself as a coping mechanism, maybe after a punishment or during where she has to sit in her room alone. thank you <3

Hi there love! 💜

Yes of course I take request! Thank you for sharing yours! ❤️

I hope you like how I write it <3

Enjoy >33

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Warnings : little!reader is hitting herself, punishment, cries, comfort, pet names, fear of not being loved, hematoma, reassurance

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary :,you can't bear the feeling of your Papa being disappointed in you. You have to feel what your Papa felt to be able to forgive yourself

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"You look at the corner and you don't move nor talk until I said so" your Daddy coldly says as he points at you. You curl in the corner and swing your body to calm yourself when you hear his footsteps leaving.

You didn't meant to be bad, you didn't meant to do something that can make your Daddies angry with you. You just wanted a cookie before dinner, nothing more. You were good all week so you thought you could ask for one but your Papa said no, he wanted you to eat your dinner and then you could have cookies in front of a movie before bedtime but you didn't listen.

You still went to the kitchen and took one. Your Papa said that he made them for you, so you could enjoy your evening with them and as a reward for being so good during this week and he told you he was hurt that you took one behind his back.

You're sitting on the floor of the kitchen, facing a corner while you hear your Daddies watching the tv in the room beside this one. You hug your knees and rest your cheek against the top of your knees.

A single tear fall along your temple at the thought of you hurting your Papa by eating just one tiny cookie. You didn't meant to do that, your desire to have that cookie in your mouth, touching your tongue was too much for you to ignore it. You didn't thought he would've seen it... but he did and now you feel really bad.

The pain is too much, the feelings you're feeling right now are too much for you to handle. Why do you feel like this ? Is it because you made your Papa feel like that ? Or is it because you still crave for a cookie even tho you know you'll hurt him more by taking another one ?

Your little head lifts from your knees before falling back down on them really hard. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your sobs for yourself as you keep doing this mechanism.

You need to feel what your Papa is feeling right now so you can understand how bad you hurted him and then you'll understand how bad it actually is.

You close your eyes and keep hitting your forehead against your knees until the pain in your heart is replaced by the pain in your head from the hitting. You wanted to keep going but didn't noticed that your sobs were stronger than you and finally got out, as well as small whimpers from the pain which is heard by your Daddies.

Steve sighs but don't look away from the screen "can you go see what she's doing ?" he asks annoyed. Bucky bits his lips and nods before standing up. He knows Steve doesn't want to deal with you right now and he understands that.

He walks in the kitchen and frowns with wide eyes when he spots you and what you're doing. He quickly walks to you and grabs your head before you can do it again, he looks at your face wet from the tears "ohh baby" he breathes out "what are you doing ?" he softly asks.

He kneels beside you so you don't feel intimidate by him because he's over you. He gently strokes the side of your head, careful to avoid the spot you hitted so he doesn't hurt you more.

You sniff and look up at him "I hut Papa" you choke out on your words. His eyes soften and he tilts his head "he's hurt now but it'll fade away. You know he can't stay mad at you more than a few minutes" he teases, trying to make you laugh or smile but you just sob more

"why did you hit yourself, babygirl ?" he quietly says. He's scared that the fact to hear what you were doing is making you feel more low or will make you cry more.

You wince at his words and more tears fall from your cheeks. He lets you take your times to be ready before talking, his fingers keep sliding down your hair and lightly stroking your cheeks

"needed to feel wha Papa felt" you cry out and your Daddy frowns. What do you mean ?

It's a conversation you need to have with your Papa. He picks you up and you wrap yourself around him as he carries you. His hands gently stroke your back when he feels you tensing because you entered the living room, where your Papa is.

"it'll be okay, beautiful" he whispers in your ear before sitting down on the couch.

Steve frowns when he sees you "she still has 30 minutes to do" he coldly says before looking back at the tv.

Your Daddy sighs and comforts you when you whimper after hearing your Papa's words. "Steve" your Daddy snaps, getting his attention.

Your Papa looks at you and your Daddy as he turns you around. Steve frowns when he sees your forehead who is turning between a shade of blue and purple.

He goes to say something but your Daddy shakes his head, giving a look that say 'let her talk'.

You sniff and shyly peer up at your Papa "I sowy Papa" you cry out "didn't meant to be bad, jus wanted one tooties"

"I know you didn't meant to be bad, sweetie but why didn't you wait until movie time ? It would've been faster than what you think" he explains

More tears fall down your cheeks "i sowy I hut you" you cry "don wanna Papa stay mad at me" you sob "pease don hate me"

"Baby.." he scoops closer to you and hold you tight against him "i could never hate you, princess" he says in his sweet voice, trying to calm you down "i was hurt that you couldn't wait but that doesn't mean I hate you" he grabs your cheeks so you would look up at him "you're my little princess" he smiles through the pain of seeing you like this "my perfect little princess. I will always love you" he reassures you "forever and always"

He goes to rest his forehead against your but just as the skins touch, you flinch away because of the pain. He pulls away, remembering and takes a look at it "what happened, sweetie ?"

You look at your Daddy who nod at you, reassuring you about telling what happened at your Papa. You look back at your Papa after swallowing your fear and see him patiently waiting. He doesn't rush you into doing things you aren't comfortable with right away which help you.

"Can't fogive myself if i don feel lite Papa" you mumble as you look down at your feet. Your Papa's eyes shift on your Daddy's, now full of pain and regrets before looking back down at you.

"can you look at me, please ?" he gently asks. You lift your head and dive your eyes into his blue one as he takes a hold of your hands "you don't have to forgive yourself baby. You don't have to hurt yourself to be able to take away my pain. I'm the one who is taking your pain away, not otherwise"

You nod and sniff "i'm not mad, baby" he adds "and I don't think I ever was"

He tilts his head and kisses your nose "you're not our little trouble if you don't steal cookies, right ?" he teases making you giggle. Your Daddy grins and pokes your sides from behind "but that doesn't mean you can do it" you giggle more and squirm away from your Daddy's fingers

Your Papa winks at you with a loving smile before holding you close to him "I love you" he breathes out "so so much" his eyes are close shut

You snuggle closer to him and close your eyes, melting under his touch "I loze you too" you mumble

You feel your Daddy's chest hitting yours and two more arms wrapping around you and your Papa "don't forget me" he teases "because I love you more" he whispers in your ear making you giggle. His breath tickling your sensitive skin.

"why don't we put ice on this beautiful forehead ?" your Papa says as he pulls away. You feel your Daddy moving and soon hears his footsteps leaving the room.

You squirm a little in your Papa's arms until your back is against his chest and his fingers are gently stroking your belly. You close your eyes at the comfort of his touches.

You open your eyes when you feel something cold on your forehead and see your Daddy holding ices on your forehead to calm the hematoma. He smiles, kisses your nose before putting you feet on his laps and gently running his fingers along them.

"close your eyes, little one" your Daddy softly says "we'll wake you up when dinner is here"

You smile as you close your eyes, they ordered food from outside. It'll be a good evening that's for sure

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supersoakerfullofblood · 1 month

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Conflict and Genre; Hurting Our Characters in Ways That Matter

If you've even only skimmed my blog, you may have noticed that I preach the importance of character and conflict above all other elements of narrative. The qualities of these dictate the qualities of the story, and by and large, every other narrative element will in part develop from these. I've written a bit about what makes strong characters here and on random other posts, but now it's time to talk conflict: what it is and how we write it.

You'll read everywhere that there are two types of conflict: internal and external. This is true but misaligned. That's kind of like saying the two types of planets are Earth and all the other planets. In reality, most conflicts are a mix of both with varying ratios of one to the other, and "internal" does a lot of heavy lifting in this dichotomy. Is it emotional? Mental? Religious? Interpersonal? A lot of stuff goes on in the human brain!

I've used conflict a bit already without defining it, so let's do so. Conflict is anything in a narrative that negatively affects a character and that character's reaction. It's a broad concept! A duel with a dragon and a tough breakup are equally valid conflicts. You might hear people advise to "hurt your MC." This is true albeit quirky and cliche. Hurt your characters, yes, but the other half of conflict, your character's reaction, is necessary to crafting a strong story. If the duel the dragon, win, and return home victorious, case closed, that's not a very interesting story; if your character goes through the breakup with healthy coping mechanisms and emotional maturity, who cares? What gives? Unless it's the end of the story, the reader doesn't want the conflict to resolve! (Or, they don't want every conflict to resolve. Some can, but always keep one fire lit.)

Your goal as a writer should be to lead your character's decisions deeper into their conflicts. Of course, this shouldn't be obvious--if characters make bad, stupid decisions, the reader will catch on. But you can use your character's flaws and vulnerabilities to make them make poor decisions or otherwise get them in binds without the reader noticing.

One example from my own work: In one of my novels, The Ghosts of Glass Lake, one character focuses on her acting career so she won't have to focus on her mother's suicide. The suicide affected the character negatively, and the focus on acting was her reaction. Obviously, this focus wasn't the healthy thing to do, which gives me as a writer room to play with and grow this conflict. While she's rehearsing, she sees her mother's ghost from time to time. When she does try to resolve this trauma, she goes about it wrong by attempting to speak with her mother via spirit box instead of, y'know, going to therapy. Other characters try to help her cope by dubiously legitimate methods. By the end of the novel, she hasn't reconciled her acting career with the effects of her mother's death, and this tension hurts the people around her.

One example from classic literature: In Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse, each character witnesses and thinks upon how other characters treat them and others. This novel has next to no external conflict. One character, Lily Briscoe, loves to paint and notices how the men around her talk about how women can't paint, and a second character mansplains some painting lingo to her. Most of her time in the novel is spent in these interactions or thinking about them and the greater societal shifts that caused them, and by the end of the novel, she accepts herself as a painter and completes the piece she'd been working on.

My and Woolf's examples have some commonalities and some differences. Woolf's is almost entirely internal where mine is almost entirely internal until late in the novel when it grows an external bent. In both cases, conflict is both something that negatively affects a character and that character's reaction to it. This reaction causes the conflict to deepen, which causes another reaction, and a cycle starts that will only resolve (if you want it to resolve) at the end of the narrative.

The type of conflict you write is a question of style, but certain genres historically lend themselves towards one or the other. You'll often hear "genre fiction" and "literary fiction" tossed around in literary discourse. These are two umbrella categories that if you ask me don't really exist anymore, but that's another topic for another time. So disclaimer, read below with a grain of salt, but not too big a grain, as there is truth here.

Genre fiction (fantasy, sci-fi, romance, mystery, thriller) trends towards external conflict: will they kill the dragon and save the princess? Will they win the space war? Find the culprit? Escape the killer? Literary fiction ("the classics," realistic fiction) trends towards internal conflict: how do we come of age? Recognize death? Understand love?

The dichotomy of genre/literary was created during a time when those labels weren't so liquid (here's a great article on the topic), but nowadays, great books blur these lines more than they ever had. Circe is a book with the popular conventions of Percy Jackson but is also a meditation on gender and family obligations. Station Eleven is a post-apocalyptic dystopia about how we find meaning in our everyday lives. American Gods has the trappings of any old adventure story but also questions past and present systems of belief.

And was this genre/literary conflict dichotomy ever real? I would argue no and that the strongest genre fiction also incorporates internal conflict. The Lord of the Rings is a story about Sauron and the Nazgul just as it is about the nature of power and responsibility, advancing technology, and the environment; The Left Hand of Darkness is an adventure across an ice planet but only through the lenses of gender and religion; Dune is about drugs and worms but also religious conflict, imperialism, indigenous culture, and much much more; Earthsea is an adventure through magical archipelagos and also a meditation on grief, gender norms, and reconciliation. You can say similar things as these to any great piece of genre fiction, but I don't personally think this works in reverse. Not every story needs external conflict, as Virginia Woolf shows, though even the most literary of stories will use some, even if only on accident. This is because the best stories always say something deeper about their characters than simply "they can kill the dragon"; the best stories get at what it means to kill a dragon.

So in anything you write, try adding this internal axis! If you're not used to it, try this exercise. Ask yourself what the external conflict is. Then ask yourself how your character feels about it. When you have even 5% of an answer, start writing it! Then when those feelings get that character into more or deeper trouble, ask how they feel about that, then write again. Conflict is what happens to your character as much as what your character's reaction says about them.

Asks are always open if you have any questions!

#writeblr #writing #fanfic #writing resources #writing advice #writing tips #bookblr #booklr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writing help #writer tips

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rory-multifandom-mess · 12 days

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GRABS YOU

Gimme ur V headcanons now <3

You know who this is

you're GAAAY, YOU'RE GAAY, YOU LIKE KISSING GIRRRLLSSSS

ok anyway

V Headcanons

V can be very flirtatious when she likes someone (that isn't N) (Yes this is my Vhad brain speaking. shut up)

Huge tease and takes joy in scaring others

Ever since the pilot, she likes to sneak into Outpost 3 through the ventilation shafts

Gives lovebites to those she likes (I'm projecting a little here)

When she's bored and exhausted from putting up her badass sadistic woman front, she'll fly up to the roof of one of the taller buildings and stargaze. And just... think.

Random compliments will catch her off guard, but she always covers up her flusteredness by flirting back or just being sassy

Her sadism and mild insanity is actually a cover-up/coping mechanism. She doesn't take joy in hurting others, and a lot of her unnecessary killing is an emotional outlet, an attempt to feel something other than hatred and despair. (hence the "and yet? i still feel nothing!" line in the pilot)

Sometimes she'll also tell herself that killing worker drones is getting revenge on Cyn for ruining her and N's lives. She'll even somtimes imagine the worker drone she's slaughtering is Cyn

V is usually the first to wake between her, N, and J. She's made sure it stays that way, because then she can check and make sure they're still there; she does this to be sure Cyn doesn't rip them away from her again

She stays distant from N so they don't get too close again like they did in the mansion, because Solver hates love and thinks its gross, and it'll kill N in front of her face again if it has to, she's sure of it

Every time she wakes up, she looks around and checks her body to make sure Solver isn't experimenting with her again - to make sure she isn't being messed with

I think her love language would be acts of service. The moment she finds herself doing anything for anyone without them asking her to is the moment she starts to distance herself because no. nuh uh. that's just asking for solver to ruin everything again.

This is more of a general headcanon for all disassembly Drones, but I think they can switch between seeing through their 6 eyes on the top of their head and the regular 2 on their screens. That being said, V usually sticks with the 2 on her screen simply because that's what she was used to. She only switches to the 6 on her head when engaged in battle for that advantage, as opposed to N and J, who are usually using the 6 unless they need to scan an area (or N in episode 4. stupid fuck. love him)

AAGH I NEED MORE V HEADCANONS BUT I DON'T HAVE ANY MORE. Anyway hope you enjoy these! Most of them are angst oops

#ask box #ask answered #rory answers #rory rambles #murder drones #murder drones headcanons #serial designation v #serial designation n #serial designation j #murder drones v #murder drones n #murder drones j #n x v #kind of?#murder drones fandom #vhad #killingblond #kind of #just a little

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tu-es-gegg · 6 months

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i cried this stream when i saw the sign, when i saw slime write “love you Flippa, thanks for all”, my crying doesnt happen often but i DID cry holy fuck.

Yknow the whole stream of dia de los muertos really hit home for me that, yeah Juanaflippa is dead. the real juanaflippa is dead and she’s gone. and in the aftermath two broken people are left. flippa is seeing her papa, the one always trying his best to be the parent Juana needed, now a broken man because of her death and what he’s missing, and now fully seeped into denial about the “juanaflippa” that he’s takign care of now.

i love dia de los muertos for what it means for people, a time for people to remember people they love, to take this moment and acknowledge that yeah, they may be physically gone, but they are loved, they are kept in memory and will live on that way, it allows that fact to sit with them and still be able to smile because of the time spent when they were around.

this whole stream made me remember that, esp with slime and juanaflippa, because slime has never really had a cahnce to properly grieve. like he’s stuck in the cycle and barely reaching acceptance before getting dragged back down again. every coping mechanism he’s done: alcoholism, hurting himself, putting others down, trying to shift all blame and pain to mariana, litterally Gegg, so much traumadumping, some extension codeflippa, etc. all of that is to try and grapple and fight with that pain, to make it go away and replace it with something better. but really grief and its pains never go away, the sad feeling of missing someone never truly heals, people just learn how to live with it, to keep seeing the next day happy with it, no matter how much it hurts, slime never learned how to do that

he’s never had a chance to heal and learn to live with flippa’s memory in him, never learned how completely accept “yes, she’s gone and i might never spend more time with her again, but i’ll never forget her”

this day, he’s still deep in denial, he’s not truly willing to acknowledge juanaflippa is dead, no matter how much juana shoves the book about the her beign welcomed to the mictlān, the signs are there but he can’t bear to say it outloud she’s dead. he knows but he’s never going to face it until he’s forced to,

but he can have that moment, this day in the event place, to accept that moment isn’t going to last forveer and that’s ok, he has to go and not see juanaflippa in a while. at least the last memory he will have of Juanaflippa will not be that whtioe room under the cemetary, watch her be taken away and crying out for her. instead his last memory wil be hide and seek, hugs and happy flips, hanging with Tilin, seeing her so happy, the sign thnaking her

thanking Juana for being herself, thank her for existing, thank her for being the happiest memory i have, thank her for all...

and he is able to leave on his own terms, no rushed goodbyes because of settime limits. he is able to say goodbye, i have to go now.

it’s not really acceptance, but it’s close enough for the day, and for slime and what he’s going through, it’s enough

#qsmp #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp juanaflippa #qsmp analysis #ramble #txt post

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certifieddorianandcassiansimp · 2 months

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Bryce Quinlan

okay. I don’t think I’ve expressed my dislike for the main female of Crescent City enough. Here are my reasons and a little bit of ranting and comparisons.

Bryce Quinlan is SPOILED. She always gets what she wants for the consequences be damned.

Bryce refused Connor for so long only to promise a date THE DAY she breaks up with her boyfriend and he dies.

She acts like Danika couldn’t have kept anything from her and continues to be hurt over it when she was a rebel. Danika had the right to keep things and didn’t do anything wrong.

She ignores everything, not just advice, but common sense. In HOEAB, she basically doesn’t listen to anyone who says anything to her, she also doesn’t shy away from literal demons trying to kill her. (This is a common case of MCS but still.)

she’s a terrible mate. This is shown mostly in HOFAS when she dismisses Hunt over and over again, when his fears are very much valid.

she doesn’t take responsibility. Bryce Quinlan murdered two Fae kings and basically said that she didn’t want the kingdoms and all fae should suffer except her small group of people because of her father. That’s petty.

She doesn’t have a sense of urgency, she turns everything into a joke. And yes I know humor is a coping mechanism but you’re seriously going to stand there and joke about dying to your mate? After treating him like shit, and saying you’d come back to him when you knew you were going to sacrifice yourself, that’s not okay. And yes I know that Rhys basically did the same thing, but he never made such promises.

She is too stubborn to talk about her feelings with her own mate. Her mate begs for communication when she doesn’t give it and expects Hunt to repress his feelings as well. That’s just toxic.

She practically orders the queen of the underworld to make an antidote for a problem that’s been here for about 15,000 years in about an hour. That’s just not realistic.

Those are some reasons in general, but now I’m going to ramble about the first half of HOFAS when she was with Nesta and Azriel.

10. Bryce KNEW she was leading a deadly creature to strangers who were allowing her to live and explore as she pleased. I can’t fathom how angry this made me reading it, not just for the beloved ACOTAR characters having to do it, but it’s just unkind to your very kind captives.

11. Bryce listened to the story of Silene (I think that’s her name) with Azriel and Nesta beside her, and still didn’t trust them. 12. Bryce joked around with them, trying to understand them, but kept herself guarded, while yes, knowing your enemy is a great survival tactic, you could tell they didn’t think of her as a threat. 13. Bryce Adeline Quinlan awakened an Asteri in Prythian (or the prison, idk it’s been a while since ACOTAR.) and she didn’t even know how to kill it. In fact, she couldn’t kill it. Nesta, her badass self, slayed the crowd and the asteri. (not a complaint but I have to add the part where Az legit says ‘stick em with the pokey end!’ Love that part.)

14. After (not) defeating the asteri, she STEALS Azriel’s dagger and LEAVES. One, she stole from shadow baby and that’s never okay, two, she didn’t have plans to return it, and three, she didn’t even know how to wield it.

I also feel like Bryce should have to give something that’s a part of her up. In Feyre’s case, she gave up being human. In Aelin’s case, she gave up 90% (if not more) of her power. But then you have Bryce Quinlan. Around 24 years old, all three parents alive (until book three), and has nothing sacrificed. She should be shot down.

Okay I think I’m done now. But I have to say that after all of this I’d like to point out that I love the Maasverse and Crescent City, but I personally think it would be best without Bryce Quinlan as the main character. Thank you for coming to my Blab-Tok, goodbye.

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littlehypnone · 1 month

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Sorry to say so but even I got nlocked by moonie just for giving them advice. They clearly take anything as hate even if it is meant well.

I can only say as a trauma survivor you need to be made of steel if you start working or talking about trauma on social media in any form. If you are still emotionally sucked into the same feelings you will only gonna hurt yourself in the process.

Trauma is a process and a vulnerable time but don't expose your innerself to the outside world if you are not ready to deal with people who have never been hurt. There is so much stigma around trauma and dealing with PTSD some unsocialized fucks just live to press your buttons.

I really mean this genuine. They don't deserve hate but people won't stop. That's what internet culture has become.

okay first of all I don't want this blog to become a shelter for all the anons moony has blocked plus Im nobody's lawyer so, and this is to everyone, that's enough. also look at what I'm saying here through a filter because I'm tired and angry at something irl and in pain and I don't have energy to be polite anymore today

second of all, I don't know how your asks to moony were wonder but she is too nice for her own good and blocking people is her way of protecting herself and good for her. unsolicited "advice" is a lot of times no better than straight up hate. you seem to be under impression that moony is a dumb child who does not know how the world works. she's an adult, a very smart one let me add, and this is not the kind of "advice" she needs. if any

it can be hard, sharing stuff on the internet, and yes you should be aware of the effects it can have on ones mental health but it seems like the perfect solution for you would be to just stop. for many people, myself and moony included, writing and sharing it with a world is fun but also a coping mechanism of a kind. yes the world is messed up and internet sucks but we won't just stop doing everything to avoid that. and even though we realize all the hate has unfortunately became nearly a norm nowadays we can and will complain about it because it still sucks

no, moony does not deserve hate and unfortunately we are aware that it is not very likely to stop. but it's not moony that is to blame because she simply tries to enjoy herself and share her creations with the world. no, the only people to blame here are the haters. you, dear anon, have to understand that moony (or the general we) is only trying to have fun on here and is getting undeserved hate for that. she deals with that hate but it's still overwhelming and discouraging as hell and it should not be happening. that is all and while from this ask of your alone I can see that your intentions are, more or less, good, it's not that that counts

that is all from me and that's enough on the topic

#hypno answers

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dreamersbcll · 6 months

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“I thought that I was getting better”

-whumptober, prompt no. 31

(hey, lay down. take it easy. i got us)

tw: brief self-harm and mentions of self harm

——————————————————————————-

Over and over again.

One step forward, ten steps back. Repetition until it no longer made sense.

Tara doesn’t know how much longer she could do this—fighting to be human, fighting to find her way through this life. She hated to admit it, but it was much easier to let go and have the thoughts inside her eat her alive.

The moment she decided to let herself be taken apart by the voices in her head was when she regressed into harming herself.

It wasn’t about attention. It never was. It was about control. If hurting herself gave her back the autonomy of her body and mind, Tara would choose it every time.

Bathed in blood and born into a dynasty of murder, Tara didn’t care for knives or cuts into pale skin. She needed more. She needed pain to consume everything within her and force her body to work again.

Though that wasn’t so simple, she found herself doing it anyway.

Extreme temperature changes were the only things she could do to stay afloat in the mind that was no longer her own. It started with burning herself, lighters, and kitchen stove tops becoming her best friend. But the closer she got to Sam, the harder it became to hide her new venture into self-baptism.

And so ice became the new coping mechanism she worked with. It was incredibly effective, holding onto ice until it burned. If she was lucky, she could end up with scars and bruised skin to remind her that, yes, she was still a functioning body. And yes, she was still trying to destroy it.

It was easy to destroy everything that lived within her, especially with a tool that would usually leave no trace—except when she got caught.

That’s how Sam finds her anyway, hunched over a bowl of ice in the bathroom, holding onto chunks of ice like it was the only lifeline in the vast emptiness that swallowed her whole.

She heard the front door slam and Sam’s purse thrown onto the counter. She listened as her sister wandered around the house, calling for her. “Mi Amor? Tara? Where are you?”

It didn’t matter what Sam said. She couldn’t let go. The burning sensation licked up her arms, making her shake in anticipation. It felt so fucking good to be in pain, to know she was alive. And she couldn’t let anything stop that.

Sam found a way anyway.

Stumbling upon Tara hovering above a bowl of ice water, Sam breathed out in relief. At least Tara was still alive. Tara was hurting herself, yes, but Sam still could save her from herself.

Instead of pulling Tara away or yelling at her, Sam approached her slowly, like she was a skittish, injured animal in her bathroom. “Hey, let’s take a step back.”

Step back. That’s all Tara did. She kept taking massive leaps backward, her heels digging into the earth, begging her to move forward. But she couldn’t. It’s like she saw every bad thing down the road, but didn’t swerve out of the way. Everything was hit head-on, the collision taking pieces of her soul, chipping away at it until she wasn’t sure if anything was left.

She pushed against her sister's touch, still holding onto the ice in her hands as tight as she could. The stark frigidity in her palms kept her afloat, alert. Tara could feel her mind pulling away from her body, string by string until she was swallowed whole by the vast loneliness that consumed her.

For whatever reason, despite her catatonic state, Sam still pressed against her, gently taking her hands with her own. “Okay, honey. I’m here. Let's let go of that and do something else, yeah?”

Tara still didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Everything inside her was paused, her brain moving lethargically and her breathing following suit. She could feel her hands burning, the pains spreading across her arms, her elbows throbbing. But she couldn’t do anything but watch as her skin turned purple in an effort to stay warm.

Sam carefully pulled Tara’s hands out of the ice bath, forcibly shaking the ice from her grip. Tara allowed herself to be pulled by the strings, as she had nothing left to give.

Her big sister grasped Tara’s frigid hands and wrapped them gently in a towel that she must’ve pulled from thin air. “Come here. I’ve got you. Us. I’ve got us.”

As her big sister wrapped her hands in the warm towel, she spoke quietly as if not to spook Tara. “Don’t worry. I get like this, too. Especially around the holidays.”

There was little consolation in knowing her big sister struggled just the same. No words could be said for the ribbon of sorrow wrapped around Tara’s heart, squeezing it tightly.

All she wanted to do was comfort her big sister and tell her how important Sam was to her life. That if Sam left, disappeared, or, god forbid, died, Tara couldn’t go on. Little could stop Tara from following her big sister to the ends of the earth. If Sam chose no longer to be a part of life, Tara would follow suit.

But no words could be found in Tara’s mind. There was nothing she could do. All she felt was a numbed misery that she couldn’t find an antidote—and knowing that her big sister felt the same way? That was devastating.

She instead bites her tongue, relishing in the feeling of flesh crunching between her teeth. “Does it get better?”

Do you feel better? Do I have to prepare for your death as well as mine?

Her big sister hummed, brushing Tara’s hair back. Sam looked deep into Tara’s eyes, searching for something that Tara couldn’t find herself. “Yes, but it takes time. There’s no linear way to heal. It’s always up and down, constantly crashing and rising. It takes time,” she whispered.

Tara looked down at her now bright-red hands, skin peeling from the icy burns she had given herself. Unfortunately, she couldn’t feel any remorse for what she had done. If anything, she was greedy. She wanted to do more; she wanted to bleed; she wanted to suffer.

But with Sam looking at her with those big, concerned eyes, Tara knew she had to stand down and lay her weapons to rest. There was no use in quarreling with the person who had killed others to ensure Tara’s survival.

Even if, on most days, Tara wished that she died the first few hundred times.

“I don’t know how much time I have left,” she murmured, flexing her numb fingers.

The silence deafened her ears, waves of anger and sorrow crashing against her eardrums. But over the sound of self-loathing and the desire to destroy herself, she could still hear Sam’s heart shatter a bit.

Her big sister’s heart was a broken and bruised organ that beat irregularly most days. It couldn’t break fully anymore, as it beat funny already. But Tara was good at wreaking havoc on things that were already broken. She had more cuts and shards of debris stuck in her body than anyone else, as she was a master of breaking down others.

Before she could watch her big sister leave her, Tara closed her eyes and pulled back. She refused to look anymore at that crestfallen look in Sam’s eyes. All she knew was destruction, but it didn’t make it easier to see it reflected in her big sister’s eyes.

But Sam didn’t leave. She instead clumsily grabbed Tara’s shoulder and pulled her into a tight hug. Tara let out a cry of surprise as her cheek was pressed into Sam’s shoulder, her body unprepared for such a loving act.

As Sam gently caressed Tara’s hair and murmured soft I Love Yous into her ears, Tara realized something extraordinary. It didn’t matter how much Tara destroyed herself for the sake of finding a new way to live; Sam still loved her no matter what. Despite the burns on her arms or the healed white scars across her hips, Sam still treated her with such soft and gentle care, like Tara was still brand-new.

She didn’t know how to handle that information. Knowing that someone still wanted her despite her taped-up skin and glued-together heart was something that couldn’t be described. Relief, maybe, or shock too.

Grateful was probably the only word that felt right on her mind.

Despite every bone in her body screaming to shut her mouth, she still asked her burning question. “Why do you still love me? I’m not new. I’m not capable of being who I once was. I’m a desolate human being with nothing left to lose. I’d rather be dead than survive anymore. Why do you still love me?” she whispered, her voice cracking in doleful emotion.

Sam pulled back and faced her little sister. Unknowingly to Tara, each time her big sister looked at her, she saw the sun. She saw the moon and the stars, the blooming flowers of early spring, the beautiful autumnal colors that peppered the earth. Despite Tara’s faults and demons, all Sam could see was the wholesome good that overwhelmed her little sister. Though Tara lived in the dark, all Sam felt was the light that bathed her face each time Tara was around.

Warm, sunny light that helped Sam with her journey. All unbeknownst to Tara.

“I love you because no matter what you’ve done, said, or become, you’re still my little girl. You are still Tara, the kid afraid of thunderstorms who runs to help anyone in need. You are still the person who holds kids' hands when they’re afraid of crossing the street, the person who pays for those behind her with no incentive. You are still you, despite the bruises and blood you were born into,” she paused, swallowing hard.

Sam cupped Tara’s face, gently brushing away the tears that fell silently from her little sister’s face. “You are still my little girl. You are still Tara. And I will love you no matter who you become or who you were before. You are my love, my everything. I will always be here.”

Tara’s lip trembled, her vision blurry with tears unshed. “You can’t promise that,” she whispered, her voice wobbling.

Chuckling, Sam pulled her sister in. “Oh, but I can. I’m the older sister who has still survived and adapted despite the trauma and pain I put myself through. I can promise that as long as I’m here, I will love you with everything within me. And then some,” she said, kissing Tara’s hair repeatedly.

Instead of fighting back or sinking her heels into the earth and refusing to listen, Tara gave in. She doesn’t know how, but Sam always manages to get through the tangled barbed wire and sharp teeth that live within Tara. As if she was worth fighting for.

Maybe, just maybe, Tara was worthy of love. Maybe Tara could be loved like she was brand new.

Because Sam wasn’t going to leave her ever again.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #ao3 author #whumptober2023 #i got us #scream vi

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xxchromies · 4 days

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Toxic Tumblr Communities

Tumblr is a very interesting place. I feel like women have always dominated this website. While it's a great place for women to express themselves, it's obviously created a lot of really toxic communities that in all honestly could probably only be created by women. You know exactly what the fuck I'm talking about. You've got communities that normalize harmful behavior (self-harm, anorexia, drug taking) and communities that normalize harmful relationship dynamics (the teacher crush and true crime communities, the ddlg community, the kink community in general, etc.), all kinds of different shit. I won't deny that these are all really harmful in their own ways. BUT I can't stand the way many people talk about them.

It's not uncommon for people to make YouTube videos talking about these communities, and totally eviscerating the posters without showing a single shred of empathy, despite most of the posters being depressed, isolated, and traumatized teen girls.

When it comes to the communities that revolve around toxic behavior, I kind of hate how the posters are treated as if it is their fault and their fault alone for other people picking up on the behaviors. If someone looks at thinspo or a SH picture and is like "YES I want that!" did the post directly create those feelings? Or maybe JUST MAYBE the person viewing the post was already mentally ill and now they just become encouraged to be a part of a community with people they relate to? Also I kinda hate how people accuse these posters of "romanticizing" the things that they do, I really don't think it's true most of the time. I think what happens is that women are conditioned into always wanting to appear beautiful, and so they want even their pain to be beautiful. Which is why they then write "sadgirl" poetry about cutting or whatever. I also think it's a coping mechanism. If you're going through something difficult, the least you can do is be poetic about it. I also think that a lot of the times it's a cry for help. It's common to make fun of the emo girl who cuts for attention but even if it's for attention she's still hurting herself.

There are also communities that "romanticize" bad relationship dynamics. When it comes to the teacher crush community, I honestly don't think it deserves the hatred it gets. 99% of the posters have no plans to actually get with their teachers. In YouTube videos about this community, they often respond to the rare posts where underage girls gush about how their high school teacher reciprocates their love. The YouTubers blame the girl for posting about the situation and "romanticizing" it, rather than blaming the fucking adult male for taking advantage of a high schooler. It's abhorrent and I can't stand it.

The true crime community is less defensible, but even then, most of the girls do not support violence, it's more so a fantasy of being able to fix a evil man. And I honestly think it's reflective of the way society tells women and girls that they are responsible for men's feelings and actions, even the very worst of them. And pretty much all the posters are either depressed and isolated teen girls or 30-something year old women who have a history of dating violent and abusive men. When people criticize this community, there's something about the way they do it that's almost victim-blamey, idk. I won't act like what they're doing isn't harmful to the victims, but people act as if drawing the Columbine dudes being yaoi boyfriends or whatever is just as bad as the fucking shooting itself.

And the ddlg community on here mainly seems to be fronted by "littles" who roleplay as underage children having sex with their parents. Again, this is a baddd thing to be encouraging, even if it's through role-play. But I HATE how people act like pretending to be the little is the same as pretending to be the adult. All these girls are fantasizing about roleplaying sexual abuse and idk about you but they really do seem like victims to me. This is not a pass for them to promote harmful behavior but again I just hate the double standards. These people are turned on by being victimized and people somehow don't feel any sympathy for them. They act as if it's the EXACT SAME as being turned on by victimizing others.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I HATE how the standards for women are so much higher than they are for men. Women will post about the pain they are causing themselves, and society gets angry with them for daring to be upfront about it and/or trying to make it seem "beautiful". Women will post about how they want to be victimized, and society gets angry at them for promoting toxic relationships, while not offering them a shred of empathy and asking WHY they want that.

Idk I have a lot of thoughts on this. I'm not saying these girls are completely blameless and I really don't want it to be interpreted that way, but it's crazy to me the way people act like they are heinous and evil (and not like, victims of patriarchal conditioning) for romanticizing situations where they would be victimized.

#radblr #radical feminism #radical feminists do interact #am i being clear lol #just yapping

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w98pops · 8 months

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TW: SUICIDE MENTION, VIOLENCE

i knew i said i would take a little break, but ive been mentally declining a lot and drawing my silly guys is my way of coping. I never actually properly drew Wendy from 2301, so im filling in the blanks.

I'd like to think of her as a person who never actually... grows up. She just kinda gets taller and more sad over time. Wendy was always very vulnerable but cheerful, and House kinda groomed her into a serious and politically aware person, still unbelievably vulnerable but a viable subject nonetheless. I always had this problem with writing her relationship with another canon character, no one realistically would give a fuck about her and her opinions. Sure, maybe Arcade will pity Wendy because she's "stupid" from a neurotypical point of view, but other than that, she doesn't have any weight in any political conversation that's going on in the Mojave. So I made her really fucking stubborn. Annoyingly so. Wendy just... gets the job done. She's resourceful, efficient and very easy to manipulate. A perfect fit for a House's courier, I think. She doesn't question his orders, she does not care for consequences as long as she has House as her cover (a trait she inherited from her step-father) and she's sometimes sociopathic and numb to voices of empathy. Not in a "edgelord murder killer girl" way but more like. She doesn't see people who hurt her as humans. A coping mechanism that would probably be the end of her, sometime in the future. I mean, she did confront Benny and got really physical. There was no way she could've win a fight against a grown ass man, and Benny did beat the shit out of her, but in the end he was the one with a cracked open skull. I just like to think that her pure madness and helplessness was enough to fuel her mind and overpower something she had no chance against in the first place. SPEAKING OF CHANCE. That's why I think she would totally get along with Chance, the Khan from the comic. I don't really put a thought about how he would've survived or joined her, but they're pretty much soulmates. They have very different backgrounds, personalities, literally anything, but Chance recognises her rage. Her inability to do what's right and the constant fight against unfightable (?) circumstances she's facing every day. I'd like to think he's autistic too. As a treat.

So yeah, she's super uncertain about anything in her life, and that makes her a very useful tool in the hands of a right man. Mr. House mastefully manipulated her personality in a conventional way, taught her the secret and mysterious knowledge of "masking" and sat her down for a few years to teach her ways of the capital and created this really sad but smart and charismatic politician with no real political voice whatsoever. She's also very cute and sweet looking so yeah. He made himself a Tandi. 😭😭 Also he scanned her brains, which would totally not be a big plot point for the future.

Almost perfect, but Sharky is here too, for some reason. He's the biggest pain in the House's ass since Benny. He has a certain emotional intellect, not easy to bribe or manipulate in mental or physical way, he really fucking cares for his sister, and is very aware of the things The Big Guy does to her. See, Sharky wasn't raised by his sister, she was a child herself at that time, and his mother didn't play much role either, too busy bickering with Aletus and then later too busy drinking and fucking in Gomorrah. Sharky was raised by the Strip and the rules of Wasteland. He might not be the smartest guy alive, but emotionally he's mature beyond belief. He's very observant, empathetic and cunning person. Even tho he was mute most of his childhood because of child neglect and untreated autism, he has incredible social skills and a Yes-man in his basement he found while renovating the Tops. He has a plan. Not a good one, but a plan nonetheless.

I have so much OC material I'm ought to write a fanfic. Or a comic, idk. In my dreams, sure, but it's still refreshing to talk about my ocs and draw them, and recieving feedback and praise for my storytelling skills 😭😭😭 it means a lot. Thank you all for reading this far!!!

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #oc: wendy #oc: sharky

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thecoffeelovingfreak · 10 months

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𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈

chapter II of and her heart is a bird on a spit in her chest

Pairing: Teenage!Arlecchino x gn!Teenage!Reader

Genres: politics & law, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of blood, toxic familial relationship, vivienne becomes pretty bad pretty fast -- manipulation tactics, weaponizing trauma & coping mechanisms; discussions of crime, panic attack

1 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | epilogue

~~~

The afternoon light poured brightly over the garden where a young woman sat reading behind a large oak tree. The book in her hands was stolen from Director Vivienne’s library – a place none of the children were allowed since the books were deemed too complicated to share, at least by the director’s standards. Garden tools lay well-organized in front of the bushes she was supposed to trim, but instead, her attention was on A Compendious History of Fontainian and Snezhnayan Relations.

“Marie! Marie!” the director called into the back courtyard.

The young woman quickly tucked the book into the bag for the tools and slid on her usual black gloves before shaking her head quickly and grabbing a pair of hedge trimmers. She looked just dirtied enough to pretend she was doing her task.

“What is it, Mlle. Vivienne?” she yelled back.

“Hurry inside, please! We have to organize for a new resident!”

She huffed before throwing down the trimmers and grabbing the tool bag. Her worn boots pounded against the cobblestone as she ran inside.

—

The drone of the black car silenced as the ignition was turned off. The chauffeur came and opened the bailiff’s door which you slid out of afterward. He grabbed your bag from the back before bringing it to you and tipped the edge of his hat before retreating to the car. The bailiff said nothing as she walked up the stairs next to you to the front door of the orphanage. Grabbing the golden door knocker, you struck it against the plate.

A woman in an elegant yet simple greyscale dress answered the door, golden brown hair mixed with silver falling long over her shoulders.

"Hello, Amélie!" she welcomed, shaking the bailiff's hand with both of hers.

"Hello, Vivienne." the white-haired woman responded curtly.

The director's eyes drifted over to you as she spoke, "I take it you are __?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Wonderful," she said smiling. "Please, follow me."

You nodded goodbye to Amélie as you entered the older building. The white crown moulding in the foyer complemented the pale blue walls well but seemed like such a contrast to the owner's taste. She led you further down the hall toward an occupied lounge space. A young woman sat with tea dressed in a red button-up with black pants, gloves, and boots. Her white hair was blended with shades of dark grey and a strand of bright red. Black and maroon eyes gazed at you with inquisition and tiredness.

"Marie, please welcome __." the director stated.

She put down her tea on the small table next to the armchair she occupied before rising to step forward and hold out her hand. You reached out and took her hand, briefly shaking it and feeling the copious heat of her hand through the glove.

"Hello, __." she spoke evenly, her voice strong and smooth.

"Lovely to meet you." you replied after a beat of momentary surprise. Something about the person in front of you seemed familiar, yet you couldn’t place where the feeling came from.

The director set a hand on Marie's shoulder as you brought your hand back to your side. "I have chosen our oldest here to guide and aid you for your first month. I do hope you two will get along. Dinner will be at six-thirty this evening, please show Mx. __ around in the meantime."

With that, she dismissed herself.

The lounge was quiet before the young woman spoke up, “Would you like me to take your bag?”

You shook your head, “No need.” You did not want to hand off your only belongings to someone you just met, even if you sensed a kinship with them.

She looked into your eyes for a moment, as if assessing something you couldn’t perceive. With a light sigh, she moved on, “Well then, would you like to see where you’ll be sleeping?”

—

The bedroom of the orphanage was decorated in a plain yet aquatic theme that would have suited its location if not for the lack of extravagance. The white crown moulding continued into the room, but the walls were a dark teal instead of pale blue. Full beds with white sheets sat on metal bed frames, some had torn or well-kept stuffed animals, while others had blankets or satchels of the same condition. There were three large windows on the northern wall, bringing the shadows of leaves into the room.

Marie entered the room first, guiding you around the beds. A few young children ran around playing tag, but one, in particular, came running up to you, grabbing your hand with an excited smile on her face.

“I’m Lucette! Are you a new kid here?”

She had such a contagious spirit, you couldn’t help but reply, “It’s nice to meet you Lucette! I am new here, my name is __.”

The girl jumped up and down twice before turning toward the figure on your left. “Manon! Why didn’t you tell us?”

Your eyebrow raised slightly at the nickname as the girl left your side to stand in front of Marie. The young white-haired woman picked up the little girl and gestured for you to follow them.

“I didn’t know they would be arriving until only an hour ago,” she replied softly. “If I knew before I would have told you, Luce.”

“That’s still an hour!” the girl huffed, crossing her arms.

Marie placed her down on the floor when she reached a pair of beds. Ruffling her hair, she laughed.

“Stubborn as ever, I see.”

The girl glared playfully at her, “So are you.”

Another light laugh left Marie’s lips, and you felt warm at the sincerity between the two. It seemed that family was something highly valued by your overseer.

“Why don’t you go ask Mlle. Vivienne if you can help with dinner?”

“Okay!”

The girl quickly called for her friends and they all left the room a moment later.

“You can place your bag there.” Marie said, pointing to the bed on the right.

You placed your bag at the foot of the bed and decided to lie down for a moment. The bed was softer than you expected, and you sighed as the bed to your left creaked. Marie sat waiting for you, simply looking out the window.

“What brings you here?” she asked quietly.

You waited a moment before responding, “Unfortunate events.”

She hummed, bringing her gaze the short distance to you. Her striking eyes drew your attention, and you found yourself looking at her as well.

There was something odd stirring in her eyes, an unfamiliar emotion for someone appearing both bold and bitter. It seemed to you like fascination and perplexity, but you could not tell much of the inner workings of her mind. All you knew was that she likely cared deeply for those she loved.

You rose to sit on the side of your bed, your eyes still never leaving hers.

“What brings you here?” you queried.

She huffed and closed her magnetic onyx eyes. “Something far too complicated.”

You left her with no reply and continued to look at her. She opened her eyes once more a moment later, a flicker of recollection dancing behind them.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” you questioned, slight confusion on your face.

“I could ask you the same.” she replied, tilting her head.

A minuscule smile rose on her face, and you felt a peculiar sense of pride.

—

The sound of a knife cutting harshly against a plate was drowned out by chatter to everyone else but Marie as she channeled her frustrations into slicing her dinner. From her seat to the right of the director, she was able to get the best observance of you across from her. The silent companionship was not enough to curve her growing state of vexation after a long week of acting in front of the director though. Having been here for five years, she thought she would be used to the back-and-forth of the woman’s behavior, but if anything she has grown to learn that she just performs for others as well. Perhaps every citizen of Fontaine was made for the stage, whether that be the courtroom, theatre, or everyday society.

“How was your first day here, dear?” Vivienne asked as you placed your glass of water down.

Marie’s eyes remained low as she waited for your response.

“It went very well, Mademoiselle.”, you replied, smiling gently.

“Well, that’s lovely to hear.” she returned, cutting a slice of her steak.

After taking a bite, she continued, “Now, I know you arrived with the bailiff, but I’m afraid I was not fully briefed on why. Would you mind sharing with me?”

You exhaled and leveled eyes with Marie before moving them to the director. Her heart surprisingly jumped at the action, a mix of anticipation and a sentiment she was unfamiliar with.

“I was out at the butcher’s shop buying a steak and bumped into a customer. Blood from the meat leaked out onto my shirt, and when I left the shop I saw someone in pain. Their side was bloody and when I reached them they were unresponsive. Patrolmen came by not much later as I was trying to help them and interpreted me as the murderer. I ran into my older brother while being chased by them, they stunned him and apprehended us both. I faced my judgment day and arrived here.”

The director chuckled at your story, and Marie watched as your eyebrow perched.

“That somewhat reminds me of a certain someone,” she said, placing her chin on the back of her hand and grabbing her glass of water.

No. Not now. Not in the presence of someone new.

Marie knew the panic was growing in her eyes, prompting her to shift them down to her plate and tightly grip her utensils. Only Vivienne could break down her mask, and often only for the sake of her amusement.

“About five years ago, I received a child convicted of three counts of voluntary manslaughter. They were badly traumatized by the incident and treated others very coldly. It was hard to get them to leave the bedroom, much less complete any chores. No little one would spend time with them, and they grew very lonely. With time, though, they eventually grew to be like normal children here. It was a very soothing development.”

With a sharp exhale and scratch of a chair against hardwood, Marie stood up, “Please excuse me.”

This was not the first time Vivienne had done something like this, and it was certainly not going to be the last.

There was a partial stumble to her walk as she traversed the halls to the bedroom – she needed to be as far away as possible from this area. Her breath was shortening and she felt the chill of danger run fierce through her veins, a shivering sensation rising from her elbows to her fingertips. She ripped off her gloves as she felt her head almost begin spinning when a wave of nausea overcame her.

She thought she was over this. She thought she had stopped reacting so viscerally to her past.

Entering the darkness of the bedroom was like returning to her childhood. The doom inside of her intensified as she crossed only a short distance into a corner of the room. If she just closed her eyes, this living nightmare would dissipate.

—

Your eyes honed in on the smirk covering Vivienne’s face as Marie left the room looking far too frazzled for your liking. The dining room was getting quieter in her abrupt absence, but your appalled stare did not leave the director. You threw your napkin down on your plate before rising from your seat.

“Excuse me, but I must leave as well,” you stated, leaving quickly to catch up with your overseer.

You could hear Vivienne calming and talking to the remaining children as you disappeared down the hall, but you could hardly focus on her.

A pair of torn black gloves lay on the floor of the hall, and you heard heavy rapid breathing and crying not far from where you stood. Following the noise, you finally reached the bedroom.

“Marie?” you called out gently. “Are you in here?”

A sharp breath to your left drew your attention to the corner; there was hardly any moonlight in the room, but you could make out a crouched figure. Flipping on the iron wall lamp above the bed closest to you, a golden light was brought into the area. She did not react.

“Marie?” you beckoned again, sitting on your knees before her.

A clawed hand was immediately swung in your direction, leaving you with a light scratch over your cheekbone that you couldn’t dodge. A hoarse voice yelled desperately, “Leave me be, please! I was only trying to protect myself!”

You felt a wave of empathetic hurt in your chest, leading you to forsake her wish and riskily wrap your arms around her shoulders. Strong arms tried to stubbornly push you away, but you proved solid and constant. Moments later, hands were grasping at your back and tugging you closer. You didn’t know why you felt so heavily for her, but something within you could not find the will to leave her. Your hand came to cup her head into your neck as the other rubbed up and down her back. Time seemed to pass slowly as you sat together, Marie calming down by the minute. When she pulled back from her tight grip on you, you witnessed vulnerability and regret in her eyes – like she felt uncomfortable with someone bearing witness to her emotions. You could tell she was not fond of being defenseless.

She brought her hands to her eyes and wiped them, causing you to pause. You carefully took them in your hands, noticing the natural pitch-black color and sharpened nails. Looking up into the raw gaze of her eyes, lost memories from years ago came flooding back. With a small wistful smile, she squeezed your hands as a tear slid down your cheek to mingle with the growing streak of blood.

“I remember you, __.”

#and her heart is a bird on a spit in her chest #ahhbshc #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #fatui arlecchino #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact #fatui harbingers #fontaine #genshin spoilers #coff writes for genshin🍵#the knave

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shiraishi--kanade · 14 days

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Welcome back! It's an honour being your first ask!

Now onto business, hope you don't mind: I've seen some people around saying that Taiga never cared for An to begin with. Obviously, my first instinct was to say that An is Taiga's niece and he did care but... To what extent? His acts were only caused by grief as a sort of "necessary evil", but just how much did he care if he destroyed Vivid Street and vbs in such gruesome ways?

I couldn't pull any proof by myself so I wanted to ask you instead! What do you think?

Hoc you are my first follower twice now (thrice if you also count my main account), and I believe you've actually got to send the first ask twice as well - one of those asks was just shorter so I opted answering it before yours. It's actually hilarious.

As for the question... Very, very tough to answer this. This is also something I choose to believe we'll find out more about in An5, but for now I will say this: he did care. He just didn't care as much as others thought, we thought, and most importantly, as An thought. But he did care. He just cared about his own ideals and emotions more.

Here's why I think so, although bear in mind it practically borders on theory territory because of how little we actually know about Taiga's inner thoughts.

1) He knows singing is An's coping mechanism, and he urges her to use it.

This is something that we, of course, see with our own eyes for basically the entire An's storyline - at the very least, since An2. An also openly states it herself... In Vivid Old Tale second sidestory!

Quite fitting.

Those are nearly the first and only words Taiga directs to An after telling her the news. Sing it out. You know you want to.

This is vague, and it can be interpreted differently, but this is what I can see here, at least. He wants An to sing. He challenges everyone, but he wants An, An specifically, to fight him - with all that anger and distress she's got, and showed him a second ago. She blows up at Taiga and Taiga immediately says: redirect that into your singing.

And he is not wrong.

2) He knows exactly where An's roadblock lies, and pushes her to break through it (in the worst possible ways).

Since Resonant Town at least, we have a very consistent topic with An: she struggles with her singing, and she feels stuck as her teammates are moving forward. At the same time, her teammates are all going through... Discovering their feelings, as well. Kohane in Kick it Up a Notch, Touya with composing since Walk On and On but moreso in The First Concerto, and Akito in Burn My Soul; all of those have to do with feelings. And for all, ultimately, accepting and embracing those feelings, whatever they are, leads to a breakthrough.

An is the only one who has not done it yet. She is avoiding it, she's avoiding all of it as hard as she can, believing that singing more and more is the only solution to her problem - but she is stuck.

But in Resonant Town, we also see something interesting: An actually sings... Very differently when she allows her singing to speak through her song. That yearning, desperation, struggle - it colors her singing. Is it better? Up to debate, but I believe if Shiho has heard both that version of An and then her usual singing, controlled and devoid of those emotions, and found that something is lacking, and then L/N Miku echoed her sentiment as well... Then yes, I believe that An Shiraishi is An's true potential.

Then, there's this moment in Light Up the Fire; yet again, An tries to avoid confronting her feelings. The moment she tries to do that, she crumbles: Taiga then notices that and provokes her further. He says things that he knows will hurt, because he wants it to hurt; and he wants An to sing with that hurt, because that's what she should allow herself to do if she wants to have the power to surpass Rad Weekend.

Once again, he is proven right. It's very likely that this is the direction An's arc will go to: accept that grief, anger, fury, everything, and sing with it, not despite it.

3) He does care about other members of the team, as well.

Some less, some more; I think he cares most about Arata both because he's given him advice twice and because he sees himself in Arata. The advice he's given to him is something that Taiga himself took to heart; something that he believes has made him strong.

But: the fact that the battle happened at all is a sign that Taiga at least isn't indifferent towards An, and the rest of them. He wants them to surpass RW, to follow through Nagi's wish; if he hadn't, he would've just stepped aside and let them struggle and ultimately fail. They needed this - this push - to understand what they were lacking.

It doesn't mean he is not an asshole. It also doesn't mean he isn't cruel. But ultimately, an answer to your question: Taiga cared.

It can be argued he's done that for Nagi's sake, too, and not his wish alone. It's a very solid opinion as well, and I think a truthful one. But Taiga is also someone who ultimately didn't care enough about what Nagi wanted, too: this is important. He wouldn't have done something just because of that - for Taiga to do something, he has to have at least some personal stake in the matter.

I think he got attached to VBS and their team, despite trying to be skeptical: that attachment led him to do things he did, but he also resented it, because he didn't want to believe that Nagi was right about future generations; he still wanted to achieve their dream by himself, not pass it over to some strangers. He believes that he alone deserves to carry it, and seeing them come so close they might actually reach out to it is the main source of his anger and cruelty - not his grief alone. Part of him wanted to kick VBS and the team down so hard they wouldn't recover, proving that desire to carry on by himself right; but a part of him... Well, a lot of inner battles going in that man's mind, I'm sure.

I didn't think he ever cared about An as much as Ken did, or as much as Nagi did; my controversial opinion is that he didn't have to. At the end of the day, An is not his child, and is not a child he is obligated to support in any way that is beyond basic civility to her. For Taiga, An is just a friend's kid and Nagi's niece, not really his. And I can't argue with that, honestly; he and An just had... Different perception about who's who in their lives. That's upsetting, but before Taiga did something that horrible, I couldn't blame him for that.

I don't know if there was genuine care in there, to be honest. But I think there was definitely attachment and a little bit of hope. But above all that, there was selfishness - and once again, this is the overarching theme of VBS - and that was the reason Taiga did what he did.

Thanks for the ask! :D

#project sekai #prsk #taiga kotaki #an shiraishi #vivid bad squad #jay's character analysis #jay gets asks.txt #jay rambles.txt #apologies if this is rambly and unstructured #I have another flare up haha. ugh it'll rain tomorrow lol

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ladyzirkonia · 1 year

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hi !! I hope you're well 💚

sorry if this is random but I need to scream this somewhere and i'm curious to hear what others have to say abt this aa

I gave myself the hope that the reason why Bo-Katan didn't seem to give too much of a reaction while she watched Din get captured was because she was holding herself back so Moff wouldn't know that she cares deeply abt Din and use that against her by hurt Din 😭

idk if I'm just delusional (I'm a sw fan so yes) or something waaah what are your thoughts abt this?

Su cuy'gar* my friend.

That's totally not a random question! In fact I was a little bit disappointed when I saw Bo-Katan's reaction as Din got captured. I found her reaction to Paz to be much stronger, but she also knew that he was certain to die. You could see her struggle because she probably vowed never to leave a Mandalorian behind again.

So I rewatched the whole scene for you, paying special attention to Bo-Katan's reaction. Unfortunately, she wears a helmet, which is why the analysis is of course a little more difficult like in the scenes where she's talking with Din without her helmet.

Din gets caught from Gideon's man, he tries to defend himself with the flame thrower and get's tied up. Right after you see first Paz and then Bo-Katan fire against the barrier.

Then she takes a step closer to the barrier, seems to pause for a fraction of a second. At that moment she is still lit by the light from Din's flamethrower. She hits the glass with the gun in her hand. A split second later, the screen wents dark. The perspective changes and we see Din fighting his opponents from her point of view. Then she hits the barrier again with her hand.

One must always remember that Bo-Katan is an incredibly experienced and skilled warrior. She has seen many people get hurt or die. It wouldn't suit her to panic or scream. But despite the helmet, you can tell that she is shocked for a split second. Viewers are only shown her and Grogu's reaction to Din's capture because those are the ones that count. She hits the barrier twice and later several times again when she is no longer in focus of camera, but you can see it when you look very closely. This reaction that is irrational and in due of desperation because she can't do anything about it. I think it's dramaturgically wonderful done that Bo is first lit up and shortly afterwards her ''face'' gets dark. Maybe also an indication how she's feeling in the inside.

After Gideon appeared, she initially stands there relatively rigidly, but during the course of Gideon's speech you notice that her posture is super tense, which culminates in her slightly desperate exclamation ''No!'' after Gideon sends off the Tie Fighters and Bombers. Din is taken away and Bo says in an almost slightly trembling and angry voice:

She responds to her likely rising panic with a threat. A relatively clear coping mechanism. She then threatens Gideon in a calmer and firmer voice to destroy him once and for all. And I'm pretty sure she will do.

I have to admit, I was a bit disappointed with her reaction when I first saw it. But I had to remind myself that she's not a silly schoolgirl. And after looking this scenes again I'm sure that she cares pretty much! You just have to look carefully. I love how subtle the whole season is over and over again and what an incredible talent Katee Sackhoff shows in bringing us closer to Bo's feelings.

And finally, I wanna show you of how Bo-Katan reacted in the second episode when she realized that Din Djarin was in danger:

And now just imagine what her face must have looked like when Din was captured after what they went through together.

Screenshots are mine. GIF's from @itberice, thank you!

This is the way!

*Su cuy'gar (Mando'a) = Hello (lit. you are still alive)

#ask box #the mandalorian #the mandalorian season 3 #the spies #star wars #Din Djarin #grogu #bo katan kryze #dinbo #dinbo nation rise #bo katan x din #din's capture #moff gideon #bo katan's reaction #she does care #episode analysis

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crime-wives · 6 months

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your turn. tell me about your wips 👀

oh lord... where do we begin. let's start with me meddison/grey's anatomy wips.

so you were never a saint, and i loved in shades of wrong. this wip is currently in progress, two chapters on ao3 so far. basically my take on an angsty s2 meddison. they run into each other constantly at joe's bar and are very sad.

hollywood au. my meddison hollywood au in which meredith is unwillingly dragged into the spotlight after finding out her boyfriend is a. married, and b. famous. she gets a guest role on the same tv show as him and his wife. things spiral from there.

dead derek s4 au. basically what the title implies. a 'what if' scenario in which derek died in s4, and meredith and addison connect over shared grief.

tedstina fic. this wip is if after owen cheats on her, cristina shows up, drenched, at teddy's apartment all 'i didn't know where else to go.' there is lots of sad, gay, pining.

now... we move on to my swan queen wips. there are a lot, be prepared.

sad regina mills fic #1. a very angsty wip about regina's relationship with food, set during s1 of ouat. she's not dealing very well with henry hating her, and she turns to one of her coping mechanisms, which may or may not land her in the hospital.

sad regina mills fic #2. set after cora's death, little snippets of regina reflecting on her mother, and childhood. some hurt/comfort, also hurt/no comfort so.

say don't go song fic. regina reflecting on herself and emma in the middle of the night, with the dagger, after emma's sacrifice post s4 finale. (also regina really misses emma and doesn't know what to do with herself.

s6 regina is sad about emma getting married fic. has this been done before, yes. but i want to do it. anyway, buckle up, this one is very sad. our favorite lovable idiots fight, and make up, there are 'i miss you' texts, and lots of lesbian pining.

camelot hurt/comfort au. a little ficlet, (which could spiral into something bigger if i'm not careful,) in which emma seeks comfort from regina on a day when the voices are really loud. there's bed sharing and cuddles, and also hook is thrown into a tree.

the hanahaki au. um well... this is exactly as it sounds. set like 4b-ish. regina starts coughing up flowers one day, and it slowly gets worse until she's almost dead.

there's bed-sharing in this one. after a fight with her parents, emma shows up at regina's place. there are feelings, angst, and surprisingly maybe fluff.

the road-trip fic. uber driver x runaway bride. that's all i'll say.

neverland rewrite. except swanqueen, and mentions of torture. two hurt women heal together and find their son.

there are more... but i'll stop there.

here are some ideas i've had, but haven't written yet:

regina on henry's birthday during the missing year

my hc that regina taught herself how to draw/paint during the first 18 years, and the people she paints as vignettes.

supercorp: lena knows kara is supergirl au, but angsty

my meddison fic after meredith grey almost drowns

oh, my star wars fusion swan queen fic

anyway... i'll end this here before i get too carried away lol (this took forever to type.)

#my wips #swan queen #meddison #supercorp #regina mills #lena luthor #addison montgomery #meredith grey #emma swan #kara danvers #not them being all angst #ouat #grey's anatomy #supergirl #tedstina #cristna yang #teddy altman

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letitiaslabyrinth · 11 months

Text

AT THE END OF THE DAY

warning: angst, family issues/death, soft/quiet shuri, Riri's the best and most patient girlfriend ever, gentle riri, shuri paints as a coping mechanism, Shuri has more tattoos and piercings pairing: Riri x Shuri word count: 1.3k

Shuri walked around her lab, making sure everyone and everything was fine and in working condition. Once she was done and ended up double checking things again, she went over to her own desk to begin working.

Shuri felt her heart beat slightly pick up. She brushed it off and continued what she was doing. But it sped up more. and more and more, until she was breathing heavily and her vision was going in and out.

"Everyone, get out." Her eyes start watering. "GET OUT!" She screams.

The room was empty in seconds.

Shuri put her hand in chest and sank to the floor, crying. "Griot," she says softly.

"Yes, my queen?" The A.I answers.

"Call Riri. Tell her it's an emergency."

"Calling Mrs. Williams now."

Riri rushed into the lab, frantically looking around for her wife. She stopped for a second and heard crying. It was soft but she was able to figure out where it was coming from.

Riri kneeled down next to Shuri, "Baby, what happened?"

Shuris breath hitched in her throat before she looked up and spoke, "I… I was trying to work and my heart, it started picking up but when I tried to brush it off, I-" Riri could see how much talking about it hurt so she brought Shuri into a hug, rubbing circles on her back.

This wasn't the first time Shuri has had a breakdown while trying to get something done. And Riri knew the reasons, too—her family.

Shuri had gotten the news about T'Chala's death when she was here, working, and since then she'd tried to push down whatever sort of block that was trying to stop her from doing anything in the lab. But when Ramonda died? It was the last piece of hope, of fight, of anything that was still in Shuri and all of it was shattered completely. Whenever Shuri tried to work now, flashbacks of what Namor did would run through her mind until she got broke down, just like she did today.

"I wanna go home.." Shuri mumbled into Riri's shirt.

"Okay." Riri wiped away Shuri's tears and helped her up, bringing her all the way out the palace and into their car.

Shuri was in the backseat, laying down with one of Riri's hoodie's and a blanket that was already there.

"You want anything from the store before we go home?" Riri looked in the rear view mirror when she didn't get an answer and saw Shuri shaking her head. Riri said a quiet, "okay." and started their drive home.

Riri carried Shuri to the couch in their living room and gently put her down, trying not to wake her. She kissed her forehead before going to the kitchen to make her wife something simple to eat since she knew Shuri doesn't eat much when she wakes up.

When Riri reaches the couch, a sandwich and hot cocoa in hand, she sees that Shuri isn't there. She puts both down and creeps into Shuri's art room quietly.

Shuri still has on Riri's hoodie and the blanket as she continues to paint the formally white canvas with a myriad of different colors. She's mostly sticking to different shades of purple and orange—her and Riri's colors.

Riri stood in the doorway without a word, letting her wife express herself freely and with no interruptions.

"Ri?" Shuri says, turning her head slightly and putting down the paint brush.

"I'm here." Riri goes to her side and kisses her on the forehead, "I'm right here."

"Thank you." Shuri says softly.

"Of course, mama. You hungry yet or you wanna keep painting?"

"I could eat." Shuri takes the canvas off the easel and hangs it up to dry. She follows Riri out her art room, the blanket still on her shoulders and goes to sit in the couch with her snack and her drink.

"I'ma be right back, alright?" Riri says.

Shuri nods twice, slightly zoning out while she eats.

Riri comes back 15 minutes later with a new outfit on—a Nike's gray sports bra with matching sweatpants and sits down next to Shuri. She notices how Shuri only ate half of her sandwich but finished her cocoa. "You done with your food, mama?"

Shuri shrugs. "I'll probably finish it later or something, just don't throw it away please."

Riri hums and takes the dishes to the kitchen. She puts the rest of Shuri's sandwich in the fridge and washes out her cup. She gets a cup of water for herself before making her way back to her girlfriend.

The two of them watch TV in comfortable silence for the next three hours. The channel switched between things Shuri wanted to watch and things Riri wanted to watch but since they mostly liked the same shows, neither of them minded what the other picked.

Shuri's head is on Riri's lap while Riri drags her fingers over the sleeve tattoo Shuri has on her right arm and among the other ones she has, this one is Riri's favorite. It was the only one with color on it so naturally it stood out.

Shuri feels her eyes dropping and lets herself drift off slightly but not completely.

"I love you," Shuri mumbles softly.

The last person Shuri said that to was her family when she was saying goodbye to them at the beach in Haiti.

Riri froze for a bit, her hand stopping completely. Ever since Shuri's grief started consuming her, she'd stop telling Riri she loved her. Riri knew Shuri loved her but not hearing her say it for a while hurt far more than she thought it would. She would tell Shuri she loved her and not get an answer back, just a soft smile and a kiss on the forehead. Sometimes Shuri would try and say it back but it felt so forced that she just stopped completely.

Riri leans down and kisses the tattoo she was touching, "I love you, too."

Shuri hums happily. "I'm sorry for not saying it more often."

She's being open right now, something she knew she needed to work on when it came to her and Riri's relationship.

"It's okay, mama. I know it's difficult for you."

"How come you're so…"

"Understanding? I don't know exactly what you've been through when it comes to relationships, Shuri, but you shouldn't have to ask to be understood or heard when you're speaking. Especially not when it comes to me, alright?"

"You're the first woman I've been with who isn't…tired of me, yet. You're the first woman I've been with who actually makes me feel like it's okay to have bad days and to not want to get out of bed sometimes and it's new to me. The first time I spent a night at your place, I felt so safe with you and it felt so weird to me because I've never felt like that before and at first I didn't understand it and even now, I still don't…" She sat up as she started rambling. The conversation switched topics three times but Riri didn't bother mentioning it. All that mattered to her is that Shuri was actually talking to her when she was having a bad day. Usually she'd isolate herself in her art room or her "Panther cave", as she liked to call it.

Shuri stops talking, realizing that Riri wasn't saying anything. "Sorry, I completely went off track."

"It's alright, baby." Riri reassures. "I like hearing you talk about things you're passionate about."

"Really?"

Riri nods, "Yes, ma. You can continue if you want."

Shuri doesn't waste any time getting right back on track to what she was talking about.

#black wlw #lesbian #shuri x riri #shuriri #fluff #angst #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #shuri udaku #riri williams

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