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coneyislandbabey · 1 year

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don't cry my sweet, don't break my heart. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: profanities

SYNOPSIS: Warren being a good dad and having a little crisis about his little girl growing up word count: 1,524

NOTES: This was written for this request! This is also part of the mariposaverse, other related fics can be found on my masterlist!

The park was crowded, and you could tell that Warren was nervous. He was sizing up the play structures and all the children playing on them like he could calculate the exact risk of allowing Mariposa to play on it in his head.

“Warren, it’s a park. It’s designed for children,” you said gently, laying a fortifying hand on his arm. He only clutched Mariposa closer to his chest, the little girl’s squirming and pointing towards the playground not getting through to him at all.

“I can see, like, thirteen different ways she can get hurt just from here,” he said, eyes still scanning the playground. You laughed, and tried to cover it unconvincingly with a cough. You had never seen this worried, protective side of Warren before Mariposa. He had been the most careless, go-with-the-flow person you knew, until you told him you were pregnant. The transformation into fussy mother hen happened almost overnight, and doubled in intensity when she was born. Ever since Mariposa had learned to walk, and, in turn, learned to get into things she wasn’t supposed to get into, this side of him had intensified exponentially.

“It’s not like we’re just letting her loose in there,” you reminded him. “You’ll be with her wherever she goes, baby. She’ll be okay.”

Warren heaved a sigh. “Fine, we’ll give it a try.”

“You’re so brave,” you deadpanned. Warren nodded to himself, trying to psych himself up. Eventually, he bent over to stand Mariposa on the grass. Immediately, she began toddling toward the playground, attempting to move faster than her chubby little legs could carry her. Warren was there, always just a step behind her, catching her before she could fall and resetting her on her path.

When she finally reached the playground, it seemed that the sight of so many rowdy children in one place bewildered her. Prior to this moment, the only other child she had known was mild-mannered little Julia, who sat patiently while Mariposa chewed on her dolls and shared her snacks without even being asked to.

Warren watched her hesitate on the edge of the playground, the worry seeping back into his eyes. “Maybe it’s too soon? All these kids are bigger than her. One wrong move and somebody’s gonna flatten her.”

“She’s gonna be fine,” you reassured him. “You’ll be right next to her the whole time, right? There’s no safer place for her to be.”

A determined look settled on Mariposa’s face, and she walked further into the playground, Warren right on her tail. Once you were satisfied that he wasn’t going to pick her up in a panic and make a run for it, you made your way to one of the benches bordering the mulch with the stroller, sitting down to watch them.

By some miracle, Warren finally seemed to relax as he watched Mariposa discover the park for the first time. He still steered her away from the taller, scarier play structures or anywhere with too many kids, but he let her sit down and throw mulch around and pull herself up the little flight of stairs to the smallest slide in the park. You pulled a paperback out of the pocket on the back of the stroller, and settled in to try to read a bit.

After a few pages, you glanced up to check on your little family, and saw Warren standing alone on one side of the park, head whipping around frantically. A second later, he zeroed in on Mariposa, who had managed to get a few feet away from him somehow. She was running towards something you couldn’t see. Warren called her name, but she wasn’t listening, too determined to get to whatever it was that had caught her attention.

He started after her, but it was too late; you watched as one of her feet caught on the other, sending her tumbling down into the mulch on her hands and knees. She looked up at Warren, her lips puckering into a heartbreaking pout as her dark eyes welled with tears. You shot up from the bench, book and stroller abandoned, picking your way across the playground towards them. By the time you got there, Warren was sitting in the mulch with her, swiping the tears from her face with his thumbs.

“You’re okay, mi vida,” he said, voice gentle and calming. “It’s just a little scrape, see? We’ll get you home and fix you right up.”

“Papà,” she said, voice watery, her arms reaching for him to pick her up. He did so carefully, arranging her in his arms so that he didn’t irritate the scrape on her knee. When he turned around, the look on his face was so sad you could almost feel your heart breaking. When Mariposa caught sight of you, the tears started up again.

“Oh, my little butterfly, did you take a spill?” you asked, wiping away her tears yourself this time. Her mouth was still drawn into a pout as she snuggled into Warren’s chest. He insisted on carrying her the whole way home instead of strapping her back into the stroller, and by the time you reached the house, she was fast asleep in his arms.

“I’ll go get neosporin and a band-aid,” you whispered once inside. “We’ll try to do this without her waking up?” Warren nodded, standing as still as possible in the entryway. You ran to the bathroom and grabbed what you needed from the first aid kit. Slowly, Warren straightened out Mariposa’s little leg, pausing any time she stirred even slightly. You dabbed on the neosporin and gently smoothed on the band-aid, cheering inwardly when you got through the whole thing without her waking. After, Warren crept slowly down the hallway, carefully depositing her in her bed and backing out of the room.

Once the door was safely closed behind him, he turned and sighed, running a hand down the side of his face.

“I have played sold out fucking stadiums, and still I have never felt as stressed out as I did when I watched her trip and fall,” he said, his voice tight. You walked over to him, looping your arms around his neck. His arms automatically went around your waist, forehead resting against yours.

“Are you really this stressed over her tripping?”

Warren paused for a moment, turning the question over. “I just… I should have been able to protect her from it. I should be able to protect her from everything.”

“It’s a hard pill to swallow, but, honey, this is only the first of many things you aren’t going to be able to protect her from,” you said gently.

“I know you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it,” he responded, and some of the tightness had gone from his voice. “Me not being able to keep her in a little bubble forever means she’s starting to grow up, and I don’t want her to.”

You laughed, trying to suppress the sudden urge to cry at the idea of your little baby growing up. “Believe me, I would’ve kept her as small as the day she was born forever if I could. Watching her grow up is going to be hard, but it’s going to be so good, too. Besides, we’ll have each other through it all, right? You will always have me to lean on through all the hard spots.”

You leaned your head against his chest, and Warren slotted his chin on top of it, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “You will always have me to lean on, too, mi corazón. But if I’m honest, I’m probably going to have to lean on you a whole lot more. Raising a daughter might actually kill me. I’m gonna spend every second of the rest of my life worrying about that kid.”

“You and me both, baby,” you laughed. “But, for the record, you are doing a wonderful job so far.”

Warren pulled back, looking down at you with an eyebrow raised. “I just let her eat shit on the playground an hour ago.”

“You didn’t let her do anything. She just did what kids are always gonna do,” you shrugged. “And you were there to dry her tears and make her feel safe and loved after the fact. You’re a good dad, Warren. Better than good. I’m proud of you, you know that?”

Warren looked slightly aback at your words, a surprised smile growing on his face. “I worry every day that I’m gonna fuck that kid up, but if you really think I’m doing a good enough job to be proud of me, then maybe she’ll be alright.”

“Are you kidding? She’s gonna be amazing. Any kid of ours is gonna grow up to be amazing, it’s in their genes,” you said emphatically, and Warren laughed.

“For the record, I’m proud of you, too. Every day,” Warren said earnestly. “You’re kicking ass at this mom gig.”

“Almost as much as I kick ass at my musician gig,” you nodded seriously.

“Almost,” Warren agreed, chuckling. “We should take a nap now while we have the chance.”

tag list: @xleiaorgana @neptunes-curse

#daisy jones and the six #djats #warren rojas #warren rojas x reader #warren rhodes #warren rhodes x reader #daisy jones #graham dunne #eddie roundtree #eddie loving #camila dunne #julia dunne #karen karen #karen sirko #billy dunne

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bluepeachstudios · 8 months

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GitS Adjacent Asks

Definitely not. Phantom would be pissed enough at Splinter for the both of them. Ghost and Phantom are incredibly co-dependent on each other, to the point where sometimes certain emotions are left to one of them while the other handles a different emotion.

Something to remember about Ghost is that his anger in canon is 90% Raphael. When he was with his brothers, he was the mediator. He brings logic to the equation, thinks things through. Raphael is the emotion, passionate and empathetic. Michelangelo is the release, the reminder to have fun, and Leonardo is the responsibility, the reminder to get things done. Ghost went from being co-dependent with them, where when Raph and Leo were angry Ghost didn't need to be angry, he needed to be calm, to being alone and having to sort out his feelings for himself.

A lot of the anger Ghost has is him feeling what Raphael would have felt, or what he believes Raph would have felt. He doesn't even realize he's doing it. Leo shows through when he's being Responsible Mother Hen, and Mikey shows through when he's pushing himself to be with the kids, to let himself be loved, to goof off a little.

With Phantom, Ghost takes on the calm/kinda silly role. He makes jokes to lighten the mood when Phantom gets too serious. Reminds him to calm down. Ghost takes on a bit of Mikey's role while Phantom takes on a bit of Leo's. But being angry? That's always been Phantom's territory. If anything it's gotten worse because he relies on Ghost to calm him down.

Phantom avoids Splinter if he can help it. He'll snap at him whenever anything happens that Phantom doesn't think is good for the kids, or if he thinks Splinter's being a bad parent. He's LIVID about mutation days. Ghost generally runs interference. He realized early on Splinter wasn't their father, and yeah he's not a GREAT dad but he's also clearly got clinical depression and some anxiety.

Ghost gets along okay with Splinter, he definitely doesn't agree with everything he does but he also has more empathy for him than in canon. Phantom gets angry enough for both of them, so Ghost tries to go in after and smooth things over. This generally works, Splinter's just glad one of his alternate kids don't hate his guts.

Anyway I went off on this so hard, very sorry fghkdjfgh

He generally doesn't like to fight, but he thinks Warren Stone is pretty funny. He just slingshots him. Mike also has the ability to remember the guy! He's very good with faces. He likes bantering with him, ESPECIALLY likes to piss him off.

Otherwise, pissing off Draxum is his favorite pastime. :)

Splinter is in tears, Ghost is so small, so cute, so completely unaware of what a failure he is. Baby Ghost just likes his fur because it reminds him of his Father!! Father's a rat too, his name is Splinter too, are all rats named Splinter? Are all Fathers named Splinter??? He also insists his name is Donatello. Donny. With a Y. He is not a ghost!

Ghost would probably be more relaxed. That Splinter is much more like his own dad (more dad-like) but he's a really good dad! Ghost's used to helicopter parenting, that's,,, kinda how he does things. For the boys, he'd be Very Much Olde Man. Like he's as old as Splinter. That's Dad aged. They jokingly call him Mom and then it just sticks he's just Mom now.

He has no idea how to handle it fghkdjfhgk he's just confused like WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CRACKED A CONCRETE WALL WITH YOUR SHELL AND ARE FINE BUT YOU GET KICKED ONCE AND YOUR SHELL BREAKS--

#asks #gits adjacent

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hooked-on-elvis · 1 month

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okay, hiiii! so ahem, I’m not too sure if you’ve watched elvis’ “stay away, joe,” and if you haven’t you really should. although it’s kinda…iffy, he’s so damn fine in there 😮‍💨🫠

I’m really curious about one of his ladies in the film! Quentin Dean, do you know anything or any info as in if they’ve had a bond, or any outtakes?

She randomly popped into my head after watching the wh0rehouse scene in the ‘68 comeback, bc susan henning lowk looked like her in it?!?! lol I think it’s the bangs or sumthin’

But please and thank you, I gotta know!

Hi, Lexy! I'm so, so sorry for taking so long to answer your question, dear. Thank you for reaching me out for information on Elvis' movies, I feel honored you'd think of me for this, really. If there's something I love to talk about, concerning Elvis' career, this is it, his movies — even if it's not always I am lucky finding satisfying info on them, like in this case. 😣

I've spent a long, long while trying to find anything about Quentin Dean and her relationship with Elvis during making of Stay Away Joe (that's why I took so long so answer you) - from Youtube videos to movie magazines articles, but unfortunately I still haven't.

Strangely, Quentin Dean retired pretty quick from Hollywood, after only 4 movies done and very few one-episode appearances in some Western TV shows.

Her acting career (TV and movies) lasted from 1967 to 1969, two years, and it's just bizarre since she was nominated for a Golden Globe Awards for Best Supporting Actress due to her first role on the big screen on the Oscar winner movie (Best Picture) 'In the Heat of the Night' (1967). This movie was released the same year Quentin filmed Stay Away Joe with Elvis (filmed from October 9 to November 27, 1967, released on March 8, 1968).

Quentin Dean prepared for her screen test for the Academy Award Winner movie In The Heat of the Night (1967).

Curiously enough, other than the movies, one of the few TV shows Quentin worked on was The Virginian, created by - guess who! - Charles Marquis Warren, director/producer/screenwriter of Charro! (1969 *updated for minor correction on date -- 'Charro!' was filmed during July and August of 1968 and released in 1969*). Quentin appeared in only one episode of that show, but even so, why would she give up her acting career so fast? She surely had good network in Hollywood... that's just weird. What's worse is that it seems she rarely gave interviews during her acting career and/or denied interviews after retiring from Hollywood, which would explain why her interviews are so hard to find.

1968. Quentin Dean as Saranora on The Virginian (TV Series, 1962–1971) S7. E1 "The Saddle Warmer".

I really tried to find any interview with her, and there must be some, but with a career as short-lived as hers the journalists' interest for details on her acting career is not that big, therefore there aren't modern articles online (that I have put my eyes on) and the existing vintage 60s printed ones weren't scanned and shared online so far, I suppose. 😣 What a shame!

I am confident (or just hopeful) there must be some kind of information concerning her work relationship with EP in books specifically dealing with Stay Away Joe making of, such as "Elvis: Behind The Scenes Speedway & Stay Away Joe" by Erik Lorentzen. I haven't read this book yet, unfortunately. I'm so sorry for not being helpful for now, dear. I tried. I wish I knew something. :( If any friend reading this have already read this book and know something helpful, please, feel free to share what you know with our community. ♥

Well, since we're talking about it already, if you ask me I'd say Elvis and Quentin had a pretty good professional relationship but not as close as Elvis and some of his other leading ladies had. This is pure speculation on my part, but I have a reason to think so. This if one of the movies Elvis did (this one and 'Kissin' Cousins', maybe a few others too, not sure) that Priscilla -- as well as some of the wives from the Memphis Mafia guys -- was right there watching Elvis work in the filming set. I'm not implying Elvis would have had any intimate relationship with Quentin if Priscilla hadn't been there on the filming set or anything but, speaking on friendship matters, it makes sense Elvis would have spent more of his time on set, during breaks from filming, with his gang than with the other actors. Not sure but if so, Quentin wouldn't have many opportunities to get better acquaintance of him, I guess she wouldn't have much to say about him as a person because of this.

What I can say is: below is a "behind the scenes" picture [on the right], not a publicity shot for what I've read. Judging from their faces, Elvis and Quentin had fun working together. ✨ I know, I know... this is not specific but this is what I can share for now.

I'm gonna keep trying to find some information about Quentin's career, and hopefully on her accounts over working in Stay Away Joe. I really wish I could understand why her acting career was so short and what she has done afterwards in her life, so maybe in interviews she shared something about it.

For now, I'm humbly gonna share some of the pictures of Stay Away Joe. And, yes, I've watched it! I've watched all of Elvis' movies.

Stay Away Joe didn't catch my heart at first but little by little it grew on me. Now it is one of my favorite Elvis movies, even tho I still think it's an extremely noisy and a little messy-looking movie too. LOL. Even so it's a good movie... here and there I re-watch it. ♥

Elvis Presley (Joe Lightcloud), Joan Blondell (Glenda Callahan), and Quentin Dean (Mamie Callahan) in Stay Away Joe (1968)

And, to make all of us a little happier, our man:

Stay Away Joe (1968 released, filmed in late 1967)

#elvis presley #quentin dean #stay away joe #1968 #elvis movies #elvis films #elvis fans #elvis fandom #60s movies

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deadpresidents · 3 months

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In 1919, his work in Europe done, [Herbert] Hoover returned permanently to the United States. He had lived abroad for twenty years and was something of a stranger in his own land, yet he was so revered that he was courted as a potential Presidential candidate by both political parties. It has often been written that Hoover had been away so long that he didn't know whether he was a Republican or a Democrat. That is not actually true. He had joined the Republican Party in 1909. But it is true that he wasn't terrifically political and had never voted in a Presidential election. In March 1921, he joined Warren G. Harding's Cabinet as Secretary of Commerce. After Harding died suddenly in 1923, he continued in the same post under Calvin Coolidge.

Hoover was a diligent and industrious presence in both administrations, but he was dazzlingly short on endearing qualities. His manner was cold, vain, prickly, and snappish. He never thanked subordinates or inquired about their health or happiness. He had no visible capacity for friendliness or warmth. He did not even like shaking hands. Although Coolidge's sense of humor was that of a slightly backward schoolboy -- one of his favorite japes was to ring all the White House servant bells at once, then hide behind the drapes to savor the confusion that followed -- he did at least have one. Hoover had none. One of his closest associates remarked that in thirty years he had never heard Hoover laugh out loud.

Coolidge kept an exceedingly light hand on the tiller of state. He presided over an administration that was, in the words of one observer, "dedicated to inactivity."...By 1927, Coolidge worked no more than about four and a half hours a day -- "a far lighter schedule than most other Presidents, indeed most other people, have followed," as the political scientist Robert E. Gilbert once observed -- and napped much of the rest of the time. "No other President in my time," recalled the White House usher, "ever slept so much." When not napping, he often sat with his feet in an open desk drawer (a lifelong habit) and counted cars passing on Pennsylvania Avenue.

All this left Herbert Hoover in an ideal position to exert himself outside his areas of formal responsibility, and nothing pleased Herbert Hoover more than conquering new administrative territories. He took a hand in everything -- labor disputes, the regulation of radio, the fixing of airline routes, the supervision of foreign loans, the relief of traffic congestion, the distribution of water rights along major rivers, the price of rubber, the implementation of child hygiene regulations, and much else that often seemed only tangentially related to matters of domestic commerce. He became known to his colleagues as the Secretary of Commerce and Undersecretary of Everything Else...

Coolidge didn't like most people, but he seemed especially not to like Hoover. "That man has offered me unsolicited advice for six years, all of it bad!" Coolidge once barked when the subject of Hoover came up. In April 1927, Coolidge puzzled the world by issuing a statement proclaiming that Hoover would never be appointed Secretary of State...Why Coolidge issued the statement at all, and why with such finality, was a matter that puzzled every political commentator in the country. As Hoover had indicated no desire for the role, and the incumbent, Frank B. Kellogg, no inclination to leave it, they were as bewildered as everyone else.

With withering disdain Coolidge referred to his tireless Commerce Secretary as Wonder Boy, but though he sneered, he was glad to have someone to do so much of his work for him....(W)hen the Mississippi flooded as it never had before, it was to Herbert Hoover that President Coolidge turned. One week after making his enigmatic promise not to promote Hoover to the role of Secretary of State, Coolidge appointed him to head the relief efforts to deal with the emergency. Apart from that one act, Coolidge did nothing. He declined to visit the flooded areas. He declined to make any federal funds available or to call a special session of Congress. He declined to make a national radio broadcast appealing for private donations. He declined to provide the humorist Will Rogers with a message of hope and goodwill that Rogers could read out as part of a national broadcast. He declined to supply twelve signed photographs to be auctioned off for the relief of flood victims.

-- The weird relationship between the equally weird Calvin Coolidge and Herbert Hoover, via One Summer: America, 1927 by Bill Bryson (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO), courtesy Anchor Books (2014).

#History #Herbert Hoover #Calvin Coolidge #President Hoover #President Coolidge #Coolidge Administration #Harding Administration #Cabinet of Warren G. Harding #Cabinet of Calvin Coolidge #Presidents #Presidential History #Presidential Relationships #Presidential Rivals #Presidential Personalities #One Summer: America 1927 #Bill Bryson #Anchor Books #Penguin Random House

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yellowhollyhock · 6 days

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3, 4 and 12 for the TMNT asks? (Sorry if you've already answered any of these!)

3 iteration you want to see

*Warren Stone voice* All of them! 😈

Probably the most I want to read all of Mirage and the Archie comics. I've also recently become particularly interested in The Next Mutation because of some fics that I really liked.

Also Mutant Turtles: Choujin Densetsu-hen has been on my mind for a while.

4 an iteration you're avoiding

lol

If you'd asked me in February before I saw the fics I would've said The Next Mutation, mostly because of how I'd heard Venus was handled. But now, fully ready for that aspect to be terrible, I actually am really looking forward to getting to know her! So many fix-it fics coming up. I feel like I'm excited about TNM in the same way 2012 Donnie would be about broken alien technology. Let me in there, I need to know how all these pieces work so I can put them back together and improve on the original design! Do you know what this is? Neither do I! 😃🙌

12 favorite turtle across iterations

2003 Donny!

He's just so sweet and gentle. And funny! I love that he is a sassy teenager and this in no way contradicts that he is sweet and gentle. I find his dynamics with his siblings relatable, his clumsy moments always make me laugh, he carries a duffel bag. Pretty much the ideal character

#thanks for the ask!#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt tnm

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dannyreviews · 4 months

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Cinema Legends Over 100 Years Old Still Alive (as of 1/1/2024)

A few days late here, but here are the century old survivors of film in 2024.

Norman Spencer - producer (b. 1914)

María Cristina Camilo - actress (b. 1918)

Adriana Sivieri - actress (b. 1918)

Caren Marsh - dancer, actress (b. 1919)

Betty Brodel - singer, actress (b. 1919) + 3/3/2024

June Spencer - actress (b. 1919)

Maj-Britt Håkansson - actress (b. 1919)

Arnold Yarrow - actor (b. 1920)

Juan Mariné - cinematographer (b. 1920)

Robert Marcy - actor (b. 1920)

Francis Rigaud - director (b. 1920)

Patricia Wright - actress (b. 1921)

Jack Rader - actor (b. 1921)

Beulah Garrick - actress (b. 1921)

Barbra Fuller - actress (b. 1921)

Edgar Morin - director, screenwriter, philosopher (b. 1921)

Elisabeth Kirby - actress (b. 1921)

Elizabeth Kelly - actress (b. 1921)

Georg Stefan Troller - director, screenwriter (b. 1921)

Ray Lawler - playwright, screenwriter (b. 1921)

Joe Caroff - film poster artist (b. 1921)

Ray Anthony - musician, actor (b. 1922)

Micheline Presle - actress (b. 1922) + 2/21/2024

Janis Paige - actress (b. 1922)

Jacqueline White - actress (b. 1922)

Annette Warren - singer, actress (b. 1922)

Helen Colvig - costume designer (b. 1922)

Sara Luzita - dancer, actress (b. 1922)

Annabel Maule - actress (b. 1922)

George Morrison - director (b. 1922)

Stella Greka - singer, actress (b. 1922)

Bess Meisler - actress (b. 1922)

Aram Boyajian - editor, producer, director (b. 1922)

Virginia Fleener - animator (b. 1922)

Manos Zacharias - director (b. 1922)

Vincent Ball - actor (b. 1923)

Ralph Senensky - director (b. 1923)

Eileen Page - actress (b. 1923)

Johnny Pate - film composer (b. 1923)

Phil Nimmons - film composer (b. 1923)

Vera Linnecar - director, animator (b. 1923)

Enid Wizig - animator (b. 1923)

Jozef Hen - screenwriter, director (b. 1923)

Kim Yaroshevskaya - actress (b. 1923)

Ruth Geller - actress (b. 1923)

Paul Harding - actor (b. 1923)

David D. Osborn - screenwriter (b. 1923)

David Lawton - actor (b. 1923)

Adeline Leonard Seakwood - production coordinator (b. 1923)

#dannyreviews #nonagenarian #2024 #happy new year #micheline presle #janis paige #jacqueline white #vincent ball #annette warren #ray anthony #jack rader

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iironwreath · 7 months

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Wounded [Cadiana]

[cw: war, gore, civilian death]

“In war, the only law was power. And power knew no civilians—you were either a combatant or a victim.” — Olivia Waite, Hen Fever

Cadiana rarely went without their armour. Part of it was routine; they would find themselves securing a cuisse without asking if they actually needed it. The act of attaching it piece by piece was meditative, ritual. There was community when a cleric or squire assisted with her upper body, each finding their own way to serve Erathis by lending their help to each other.

The other part was trauma; two years couldn’t shake the effects of a war they’d grown up with. Fighting wasn’t just expected from their Order, it was required—and so, the armour.

It was fortunate, then, they were in their armour when the cult of Tiamat descended on Westruun.

First, Cadiana helped the First Bastion—those who weren't already defending—underground. They threw two injured people onto Warpath and fended off draconic beasts as they went, acting as a rearguard. Cady let the head priest do a headcount before pivoting on their heel, making for the exit to the surface.

Lorcan lunged to grab their arm, but instead of stopping Cady, her momentum brought Lorcan stumbling forward. His arms were strong, but his balance wasn't perfect with his re-grown foot. Cady stopped and supported him under the elbow, inviting him to speak.

"You're alright to do this?" he asked. It wasn't a question that Cady was going back out.

Cady wanted to give it some thought for him, but they couldn't hesitate—every second mattered. Even if she wasn't okay, by whatever definition, she would have gone. "Yes.”

"Erathis protect you and guide your maul, Steelsong."

"She will."

—

Outside, blasts of fire, ice, and lightning shaved off chunks of buildings. Poison clouded off blocks, dissolving skin and melting lungs. Civilians who hadn't escaped fast enough were cornered into their homes or drained into the streets, where they were cut down. The cult was needlessly brutal about it, removing entire limbs, heads, or dragging screaming families apart. Were they taking prisoners? What the hell for?

Orla’s words, a reinforcement of Erathis’, resonated in them: protect the city. Protect her city. Westruun had become Cady’s home as much as Emon once was.

Cady charged. They swung with the force of a battering ram, using their maul to slam cultists’ heads off their shoulders or into buildings and launching at them like a bear. Maybe bears didn’t scare dragons, but Cady was at her fiercest in battle—where she couldn’t instill fear, she could kill.

Cady realized why Lorcan had asked. She'd been here before—a hurricane of noise around her, steel on steel and bellowing and the drumbeat of a thousand armoured feet and shields, the snap of bowstrings and bones and crossbow bolts. Fire and spells added to the roar, so loud it made her ears want to go numb. The air was pungent with sweat and the iron bite of blood, so thick she tasted it in the back of her throat.

For a fleeting moment Cady had wondered if they’d freeze, but they were calmer than they’d ever been, Erathis’ steady presence beating in tandem beside their heart.

Once upon a time, Cady might have been on the opposite side, a pawn of a Betrayer God—Bane instead of Tiamat. Warren Drassig and his son were the closest she had ever gotten to one. Warren had fooled her, making her trust he was enacting Erathis’ tenets, but his son unveiled the truth. Cady had turned away just as Bane’s fingers had brushed her shoulder.

Out on the battlefield during the Scattered War, away from the cities, Cady had believed everyone there was a soldier; that when opposing sides met, they were all at least trained in basic combat and were there voluntarily, even if that reason was a reaction. In Westruun, that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Cadiana arrived at the city’s heart in time to join with some of the Gilded Thorns: Krusk, Kishore, and Bryn. The three and some armed guards had cleaved a path through a knot of cultists trying to stave in the courtyard gates. The Thorns had successfully drawn their attention and were beginning to drive them back.

Cady reeked of sweat, smoke, and blood—some their own, but mostly the cultist’s. They thrust a fist against their chest, closing most of the wounds, and took up a wide stance beside Kishore. Kishore spared him a quick flick of the eyes, then returned her focus to battle.

They smelled a pyrrhic victory. Westruun was wounded, but the cult would come away wounded, too. For every innocent life, Cady wanted to smite down ten of the cultists.

#promptober #promptober 2023 #writing tag #writing: cadiana #cadiana #lorcan #kishore #krusk #bryn #tal'dorei #exandria

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amchara · 2 years

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Can't Go To Hell - Ragnor Fell & Ty Blackthorn (Gen)

Ragnor Fell, Ty Blackthorn, Catarina Loss (mentions of Livvy and Kit)

Wordcount: 1,926

Ragnor and Ty's relationship at the Scholomance is unorthodox but they have more in common than first meets the eye. (Contains spoilers for the most recent Secrets of Blackthorn Hall post)

Dark skies above him, brilliant with stars. Rough, uneven stone beneath his feet. The cold, mountain air biting at his cheeks. The faint warmth from his tin camping mug, filled with sweet tea and cupped in his hands.

Ragnor exhaled. And stilled, feeling the overwhelming panic subside, its icy grip slowly loosening. He quietly went through the breathing exercises that Cat had taught him, when he was freshly-released from his captivity.

At this stage, several years on, he could get through the days without issue but at night, particularly in his warren-like room at the Scholomance... Well. He was grateful for the expansive roof and the access to it granted by his tutor status.

Behind him, he heard a scraping sound, a boot on a flagstone.

He turned to see a dark shape jump down from the wide, flat ledge that overlooked a dizzying drop to the mountainside and the path up to the Scholomance.

Wayward student or assailant, either way it interrupted his evening. An irritated sigh slipped from his lips, and he conjured up a small ball of pure energy.

The figure froze, and turned to face him. Ragnor caught a glimpse of a pale face, framed by black hair, and grey eyes that shuttered down, even as he stood up taller, the instincts drilled into him by the Scholomance’s tutors second nature now.

“Sha- Mr Fell, I was just leaving.” Tiberius Blackthorn’s voice was scratchy, as if he were coming down with a cold.

“Tiberius,” Ragnor sighed. He dimmed his energy ball. “This area is off-limits to students.”

“Yes, I know,” came the response. He didn’t offer an apology but instead, an explanation. “But this is the best place to stargaze.”

“Beside a hundred foot sheer drop?” Ragnor asked drily.

Tiberius shrugged. “I wasn’t going to fall.”

“Good, because after learning what your family is capable of, I don’t want to have to explain to them your untimely death.”

A tightening mouth and clenched fists, and a small dart of a glance to the left.

“Is she here?” Ragnor phrased it delicately.

“Livvy? Yeah.” The boy’s voice was soft.

Ragnor took a moment to look up. To watch the coldly impersonal beauty of the stars but also to seek out a particular constellation. “Gemini - the Twins are especially bright at this time of year in the Northern Hemisphere,” he said, pointing.

He watched as Tiberius nodded, following, a small smile splitting his face. “We could rarely stargaze in L.A. because of the air pollution.”

Ragnor nodded, suppressing an internal sigh. “I will leave you to it, then,” he said. “But do it from the roof, not the ledge.”

God, Magnus would laugh at the way he had become a mother hen in his old age, Ragnor thought, as he headed inside. But he felt oddly protective of this young Blackthorn. Or guilty, his internal voice chimed in before he could shoo it away.

The next day, after his history classes ended, he dropped two hefty volumes on Tiberius’s desk. The other students gave him a wide berth as they gathered up their own books and left for their next class.

“The Waypaths of the Sky and- A Journeyman’s Guide to the Constellations,” Tiberius read. His eyes were wide as he looked up at Ragnor.

“In case you were interested in further guidance around stargazing. It’s a useful skill to have as a Centurion,” Ragnor said, gruffly. “Or- as a general hobby.”

Tiberius was quiet for a moment, fingers tracing along the spines.

Ragnor turned to leave.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He thought that would be it. That the boy would perhaps look at the books out of politeness. Or skim them and return them one day before class started. The curriculum at the Scholomance was relentless in its expectations of its graduates - and there was rarely time to get extra reading in.

But in hindsight, he should’ve known better - or guessed, at least. He had observed Tiberius - alongside his friend, Christopher, for the better part of two months, as they stubbornly pursued their ill-fated necromancy attempt, despite all his carefully placed hurdles. He had watched as the boy arrived at the Scholomance, eyes downcast but shoulders set firm as he set himself to the task of learning a tough curriculum that hardened and moulded its young charges.

So when he showed up to Ragnor’s office a week later, he handed the books back, and then after asking politely, sat down in his sole, beaten up armchair, and asked question after question around the returned volumes.

Ragnor didn’t mind.

At the end of their session, Tiberius rose, and hesitated. “I haven’t seen you on the roof since that first night you caught me and Livvy,” he noted.

Ragnor studied him, wondering how to phrase his response. “I haven’t needed it.”

Many people would likely have caught the hesitation and refrained from asking further.

“Why did you need it?”

Ragnor felt old suddenly. “Good evening, Mr Blackthorn,” he said, dismissing him and showing him the door.

Tiberius left, a small crease between his eyebrows. But he also left with two new books on divining and the use of hearthcraft.

He came back often, challenging Ragnor with questions and theories around the lore he was expected to learn, alongside specialised weapons training, and intelligence gathering.

There was a hunger to his gaze, a sharp intelligence - a yearning - particularly during the most esoteric and challenging classes, where most of his contemporaries yawned and dozed as Ragnor taught theories on dimensional magic.

Most Shadowhunters treated their schooling as simply another tool in their arsenal in fighting demons. A means to achieve their angelic calling.

Not Tiberius Blackthorn. He probed. And questioned. And theorised. And experimented.

(Not always successfully - the Sensor incident put Ragnor in a bad mood for days, and he refused entrance to his office for a few days, just to achieve some peace and quiet)

It energised Ragnor, to have such a pupil in his class. It also terrified him.

He mentioned this, matter-of-factly to Catarina, one evening as they sat in front of a roaring fire, a patchwork blanket tossed over their knees and a plate of shortbread biscuits they were slowly working through. Outside Catarina’s cottage, a January snow storm raged.

“Hmmm. Who is he reminding you of?” Cat asked him.

Ragnor hesitated. How did Catarina always get to the heart of the issue?

“-- Morgenstern,” he admitted. “I haven’t had such a promising student since Valentine Morgenstern.”

She pursed her lips. She didn’t immediately dismiss his comparison.

“Well,” she said gently. “I’m not sure I see that same darkness. But. You have a chance to do it differently this time.”

“Keep a closer eye?” Ragnor grumbled. “I suppose so– although I turned my back for one moment and he and Herondale were off achieving the black magic that I specifically told them not to do. I’ll have to sleep sometime.”

Catarina stared into the fire, a troubled look on her face. She knew as well as Ragnor did, the tangled web of politics and prophecies that surrounded the Lost Herondale. And the potential role other Shadowhunters - such as the Blackthorn family - could play in the coming years around him.

“Provide the guidance and guide rails for him to achieve great things,” she said finally. “Encourage Tiberius’s interests… but push back against any darker siren call of power, and let him understand the reasons why some things are prohibited. Make sure he knows the history, the consequences. No one makes the right decisions unless given the chance to understand them.”

Ragnor reached over to squeeze her shoulder. “That is good advice, thank you.”

So when Tiberius came to him, asking for help in deciphering the curse on his family’s home, Ragnor spent some time in the Spiral Labyrinth pulling out old maps, and brushing up on his ley line knowledge.

When Tiberius asked whether he could learn to open Portals, Ragnor indulged his curiosity - while clearly stating that the boy wasn’t to perform any of it without his supervision. Tiberius easily acquiesced to the request, and they spent several relaxing evenings going through the basics, before finally putting it into practice by sending him through to Blackthorn Hall’s kitchen to visit family.

“Do you believe in redemption?” Ragnor looked up with a start to meet Tiberius’s gaze, as he sat slumped in the armchair. There was a miserable, distant look in his grey eyes, and he was worrying several threads in his white cuffs. He was ten minutes back from his visit to Blackthorn Hall. Something had gone badly wrong while he was there, that much was clear, and Ragnor had steered him quietly to his normal perch in the office.

Ragnor watched the boy, and while he usually didn’t notice the ghostly presence of Livia Blackthorn, if he looked out of the corner of his eye, he could see the faint outline of a young girl dressed in white, hovering over the chair. He and Tiberius had had a standing gentleman’s agreement to not mention the necromancy- and the results that trapped his sister on a spectral plane but… Ragnor was wondering if that had been the wrong approach.

Cat’s words echoed in his head.

He chose his next words carefully. “Decisions made in our past don’t have to define us, Tiberius. I- I think if a person decides to make amends, as much as it is possible to, and works to better themselves, never again committing the same grave error- there is a way to move past it.”

Tiberius still looked pensive, and his hand rose to clasp onto the chain he always wore around his neck. Which held a locket, and a heron sigil. He grasped them both tightly.

Oh.

Ragnor suddenly understood who had been on the other side of the Portal. And the platitudes he might’ve continued with, died in his throat. Unwillingly, his own atrocities committed in Shinyun and Sammael’s name rose up, and he pushed down bile.

“Redemption is a tricky business,” he said finally. “We can work on ourselves but we cannot force others to forgive us.”

“I know that,” Tiberius said roughly. He brushed a hand over his eyes. “I know that.”

Ragnor felt sympathy but he didn’t add anything further, until he was certain that what he was about to say wouldn’t further hurt the grieving, lost youth in front of him.

“But - one of the hard earned lessons I’ve learned in my long years on this earth, is the amazing ability for forgiveness from- ” He cleared his throat. “- especially from those who care for us. Even if it’s not immediate.”

Tiberius looked lost. “So I’ll need to wait years?” he asked.

“Perhaps. Or it may come tomorrow. Or- it may never come,” Ragnor replied. He didn’t want to offer false hope. “But the point is, Tiberius- you are not defined by your mistakes. But by what you learn from them and what you do next. That’s all you can do. The rest is up to him.”

There was silence and Ragnor wondered if he had gone too far.

Then, a short, shuddering sigh, and Tiberius stood. “I understand, I think,” he said. “Thank you.”

He started walking to the door.

“We’ll continue tomorrow with further study on Portal runes,” Ragnor reminded him. “Don’t be late.”

Tiberius nodded. Once he had exited, Ragnor let out a large sigh and lifted his eyes to the clock above the door. Barely noon. Too old for this nonsense (but even he knew he was lying to himself).

Notes: I've been fascinated at the relationship hinted at during Secrets of Blackthorn Hall for Ty and Ragnor. Alongside wondering why Ragnor has been so willing to help (he's no Magnus, with his weakness for Shadowhunters, right?) So this is my attempt at figuring out why they work so well together.

#sobh #ty blackthorn #ragnor fell #secrets of blackthorn hall #tsc fanfiction #catarina loss #livvy blackthorn #my fanfic #alicantenet

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trillgutterbug · 1 year

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i had my sole recurring stress dream again last night: that my hens have inexplicably hatched dozens of chicks outdoors without my knowledge and i have to somehow catch and get them all safely into the coop, which has become a nightmarish warren of multiple poop-filled rooms, teetering roosts, unstable nest boxes, rotten floors, moldy heaps of food, piles of heavy boxes and sharp tools, and endless opportunities for chick-egress or predator-ingress. some of the chicks have hatched out so tiny they're like grains of rice. some are so huge they crush the smaller ones accidentally. they are all running and shrieking and hungry and cold and pooping. i pick them up by the handful, tossing them back into the coop, but they escape through miniscule holes in the floor. the adult hens are eating all the chick food. the roof is leaking so bad the maze of shit filled rooms are flooding. it's almost dark. my headlamp is running out of battery. more eggs are still hatching.

#why this dream i do not know #this is a situation that hasn't happened irl for like fifteen years #childhood stress imprints deep in the brain i guess lol #this is an especially unfair dream considering i just replaced the coop roof and fixed a bunch of structural issues #it's less a nightmarish warren rn than ever!!

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lemonlinking · 1 year

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personally i think the 118 should start a Warren-style glass case collection of cursed and haunted items. the bracelet, chimneys name tag from the crow, etc.

theres an evil beaker stand from Karen, “It always measures WRONG Hen, it’s BROKEN but we’ve done all the adjustments! All different beakers!”, a broken doll that Chris brought home from the playground on halloween when he was 11 because he thought it was “spooky”, but that Buck insists is possessed by some ghost who’s always making his books and pens fall off the Diaz’ kitchen island and flickers the bathroom light.

The Nash-Grant household has an addition of an old photo and a baseball. The photo came in a frame that May thrifted because it looked like one from a movie, but Athena doesn’t like the way the eyes “followed” her when it was still in, and the baseball is one Bobby and Henry found on a hiking trip that keeps falling from anywhere it’s placed.

Maddie kindly donated a weird pen with a character sat on a spring bobbling off the end that she got from a girl on a playground when she was little who she swears just disappeared right in front of her, and who was wearing a dress from like, the 50’s. Albert helpfully handed in something left in his car from his date-a-week days, an oddly shaped garfield toy with rubbed away eyes. He says it belongs there because it is “always warm, Buck. Always. It doesn’t matter where it’s been. And he makes a wet noise when he hits the floor. No, it’s not the weight beans, it sounds wet! I know Buck, c’mon though man, I can’t live with it anymore!!”

This of course was put together by Buck and Hen, mostly to freak out Chimney, who incense and bell cleans the area biweekly or if they’ve had a, quote, “suspicious” level of business in a given shift. He claims forever bad luck for keeping a collection as such in the house, but Bobby finds it fun(ny) and declares it to stay. He makes a joke about a “living *dead* museum” one time and Buck is right on him about the difference between ghosts and zombies according to multiple accounts of folklore and cultural custom in different parts of the world.

#tv: 911 #911 show #911 #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz

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oh-great-authoress · 1 year

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I posted 3,029 times in 2022

That's 1,852 more posts than 2021!

49 posts created (2%)

2,980 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@welsharcher (love you lots, sis)

@contagiousgrace (☺️)

@batmantaking-hobbits2gallifrey (love you Elli)

@reading-wanderer (*wink and finger guns*)

@justhereforfandomandfriends (love you Anna!! Have a 🗡️ as a token of my affection!!!)

I tagged 3,016 of my posts in 2022

#queue queue kachoo - 2,073 posts

#bahaha 🤣 - 1,159 posts

#star wars - 381 posts

#awww 🥺 - 225 posts

#animals - 206 posts

#animal - 205 posts

#anakin skywalker - 169 posts

#911 fox - 158 posts

#911 on fox - 154 posts

#artwork - 154 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i’m like a dam—at first it seems like i know just a ‘normal’ amount about my blorbo—but then the floodgates open and you realize ‘oh—oh no.’

My Top Posts in 2022:

Me, with all this Rollisi content:

66 notes - Posted March 9, 2022

Pre-1x05:

Hen: *spots Bobby lying face down on the floor* Cap, why are you lying on the floor?

Bobby: I’m playing The Floor is Lava.

Hen: …

68 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

Bobby: *after dental surgery* Come on, Hen, I wasn’t that loopy after the surgery.

Hen: *deadpan* You were flirting with Athena.

Bobby: *uncertain* So…? She’s my wife.

Hen: You asked her if she was single.

Bobby: …

Hen: And then you cried when she said she wasn’t.

From this quotes generator

81 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

Chimney: Hen, in your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

Hen: *turns to Buck* Buck, how tall are you?

From this quotes generator

95 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Barson fam right now:

Raul and Mariska, watching us all melt down after seeing the episode and reading the interviews:

Warren Leight, knowing that all this is now someone else’s problem:

See the full post

127 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#i can be my whole a** weird self here on this hellsite #tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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empathichearts-a · 2 years

Photo

911

bobby nash athena grant howie han hen wilson evan buckley eddie diaz maddie buckley ravi panikkar ember palmer - oc cop - smol bio adriana diaz - oc Eddie’s sister - smol bio sophia diaz - oc Eddie’s sister - smol bio

911 lone star

owen strand judd ryder marjan marwani mateo chavez carlos reyes paul strickland grace ryder savannah mercer - oc paramedic - smol bio marina reyes - oc Carlos’s sister - smol bio hudson ryder - oc Judd’s brother - smol bio

grey’s anatomy

jackson avery andrew deluca lexie grey shreya kumari - oc; peds - smol bio atticus lincoln george o’malley zander perez amelia shepherd callie torres jo wilson

station 19

maya bishop victoria hughes diane lewis dean miller theo ruiz ben warren

private practice

elijah abbott - oc; doctor daycare administrator - smol bio cooper freedman caroline king-freedman - oc; charlotte and cooper’s middle triplet - smol bio georgia king-freedman - oc; charlotte and cooper’s eldest triplet - smol bio rachel king-freedman - oc; charlotte and cooper’s youngest triplet - smol bio addison montgomery betsey parker - au; never adopted by naomi - smol bio dell parker jake reilly sheldon wallace

chicago fire

slyvie brett joe cruz christopher herrmann stella kidd

chicago pd

kevin atwater kim burgess antonio dawson trudy platt

a million little things

maggie bloom gary mendez

misc.

muse roulette starter call reverse starter call meme call

#⋰˚☆ come get y'all juice ˗ˏˋ starter call ˎˊ˗

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empathichearts · 13 days

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911 & 911 Lonestar

evan buckley maddie buckley adriana diaz eddie diaz sophia diaz athena grant-nash howard han bobby nash ember palmer ravi panikkar lou ransone hen wilson mateo chavez marjan marwani savannah mercer carlos reyes marina reyes grace ryder hudson ryder judson ryder vivian ryder owen strand paul strickland tommy vega

Grey's Anatomy Universe

jackson avery andrew deluca lexi grey shreya kumari george o'malley amelia shepherd callie torres jo wilson zander perez victoria hughes diane lewis dean miller pruitt miller theo ruiz ben warren elijah abbott charlotte king caroline king-freedman georgia king-freedman rachel king-freedman addison montgomery betsey parker jake reilly sheldon wallace

One Chicago

sylvie brett joe cruz chris herrmann stella kidd kevin atwater kim burgess antonio dawson trudy platt natalie manning crockett marcel connor rhodes vanessa taylor

Fire Country

javier castillo jake crawford eve edwards bode donovan sharon leone vince leone liana obasi gabriela perez manny perez

#╰––– » 「 ⛑ 」 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹. ┊ come get y’all juice

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writer59january13 · 2 months

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I also feel blasé today February 19th, 2024

Linkedin to being lax, and shirking house cleaning tasks, which negligence cost us (yours truly and the missus) a golden opportunity to relocate to Hillcrest Village in Boyertown, Pennsylvania another HUD subsidized property under the aegis of Grosse and Quade, one of the larger residential property management firms in the Delaware Valley. Physical unwellness (insync with racing heart) arose because Kathleen Bergen the new property manager here at 2 Highland Manor voiced absolute zero positive feedback, upon taking lock, stock, and barrel of appalling living conditions, her blistering vocalization (from wuthering heights) translated as a foregone conclusion against our hopes pinned on moving into two bedroom apartment referenced above topmost lines. Said plummeted disappointment (courtesy blunt admission out the mouth of (humpty dumpty sat on a wall) frumpty recent hire identified in a previous poem as new warden) verbosely predicated upon gross appearance of living space immediately dashed cautious optimism citing unkempt state within no crater than moonwalking unit b44, whereby we wished to skadaddle far away from obligation to be mindful of rules and regulations codified within a binding lease. Unlikely home ownership will ever come to pass, nor the lesser prospect to rent more spacious domicile larger than a one bedroom apartment, no bigger than a bread box den me and the missus, (a hen pecking spouse) might befriend Bugs Bunny,

who might guarantee adequate sized rabbit hole constituting large enough wonderland receiving stamp of approval courtesy Alice in Chains subsidized lodging money back plus additional warren tee granted by Mister Michael Fox, who took me back to the future,

when the pace of life plodded along at leisurely rhythm.

Only within outer limits realm of twilight zone,

where dark shadows

inch along edge of night (while two thumbs and index finger belonging to separate good sports grab hold the furcula

(or wishbone) structure formed by the ventral fusion of the right and left clavicles and the median interclavicle silently mouth invocation) holds at bay, the inexplicable phenomena moored, harbored, and docked awaiting lucky recipient, whose merrythought bestowed upon he/she, they/them.

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dickvanas · 3 months

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Nederlanders voelen zich minder gelukkig door al dat appen en scrollen.

Nederlanders voelen massaal een gevoel van onbehagen door het gebruik van sociale mediaplatforms, blijkt uit nieuw onderzoek. Ze vinden het continu scrollen tijdverspilling en stellen zelfs dat het een gevaar vormt voor ons geestelijk welbevinden. Toch blijft het aantal gebruikers van online platforms maar groeien.

De cijfers in het Nationale Social Media Onderzoek 2024, dat vandaag verschijnt, liegen er niet om: 6,3 miljoen Nederlanders vinden dat sociale media een gevaar vormen voor ons mentaal welzijn. Onder hen veel ouders. 2,2 miljoen Nederlanders voelen zich daadwerkelijk minder gelukkig door al dat appen en scrollen.

De generatie Z (15-28 jaar) en de millennials (29-44 jaar), zitten het meest op sociale media én zijn het minst vaak blij met het gebruik. Meer dan 4 miljoen Nederlanders denken er weleens aan om te stoppen met Facebook, Instagram of andere platforms, maar doen dat nauwelijks.

Sterker nog, inmiddels scrollen 14,3 miljoen mensen erop los, vijf jaar geleden was dat nog een miljoen minder. Met name de leeftijdsgroep van 20 tot 39 jaar is meer platforms gaan gebruiken, en Nederlanders onder de 40 zijn dagelijks nóg actiever geworden.

Enorme tegenstelling

Hoofdonderzoeker van Newcom Research & Consultancy Tim Jonker constateert een enorme tegenstelling: ,,Vooral jonge mensen zitten elk jaar langer op sociale media en maken gebruik van steeds meer platforms, terwijl deze generaties zich echt minder blij voelen.’’

Volgens Jonker jagen meerdere fenomenen het gebruik van sociale media aan. Ten eerste: de angst om iets te missen. Verder krijgen scrollers vaak ‘momenten van perfectie’ te zien, van jongens en meisjes met een perfect uiterlijk tot sporters die topprestaties leveren. Vooral jongeren willen zich daaraan spiegelen, maar worden er ook onzekerder door. Tegelijkertijd krijgen ze weer zelfvertrouwen door ‘likes’ op hun eigen berichten, ontspannen ze zich op de platforms en maken ze er contact met vrienden en kennissen.

Florien Cramwinckel, hoofdpsycholoog van SNS, gepromoveerd in sociale psychologie, maakt een verschil tussen platforms waarop je actief en sociaal bezig bent en die waarop je slechts filmpjes kijkt. ,,Je ziet dat zulk passief gebruik negatieve gevolgen kan hebben voor je zelfbeeld.’’ Ze noemt als voorbeeld TikTok, waarop korte video’s staan. ,,Het is begrijpelijk dat ouders zich zorgen maken.’’

Meer regels

De invloed van sociale media op de mentale gezondheid hangt volgens Cramwinckel af van de mate van identificatie met de personen die je volgt. ,,Warren Buffet, een van de rijkste mensen ter wereld, staat mijlenver bij jou vandaan. Zo’n vergelijking hoeft dan ook geen negatief effect te hebben en kan zelfs inspireren.’’ Als je jezelf toetst aan iemand die wel op jou lijkt, kan dat een behoorlijk negatieve invloed op je gezondheid hebben, zegt Cramwinckel. ,,En daar kunnen sociale media venijnig om de hoek komen.’’

Moeten er dan regels komen om platforms aan banden te leggen? ,,Lastig: aan de ene kant wil je mensen hun autonomie niet afnemen, maar het gebruik loopt ook uit de hand. Vooral jongeren schatten alles wat ze via hun telefoon binnenkrijgen op dezelfde waarde. Dan zijn richtlijnen en normen wel degelijk wenselijk. Die balans moet de overheid zien te bewaren.’’

Blijvend aan de top

Het jaarlijkse representatieve Nationale Social Media Onderzoek laat ook de prestaties zien van alle specifieke platforms. Daaruit komt vooral naar voren dat WhatsApp, Facebook, YouTube, Instagram en LinkedIn aan de top blijven en zijn gegroeid. Ook TikTok kreeg er 230.000 gebruikers bij, al is de explosieve groei wel afgevlakt.

Groeiende bedrijven

X doet het ook helemaal niet slecht, ondanks de bakken kritiek op de negativiteit op dat platform. Het voormalige Twitter groeide met 125.000 gebruikers in Nederland en trekt dagelijks zelfs 240.000 extra bezoekers. Threads, de nieuwe concurrent van Meta, wist in een paar maanden tijd bijna één miljoen volgers te verzamelen. Ook omdat berichten van Threads te zien zijn op andere platforms van het moederbedrijf, wat de werking versterkt.

Er zijn ook een paar verliezers: BeReal, een app die gebruikers eens per dag vraagt een ongefilterde foto van zichzelf te posten, is het momentum onder tieners en twintigers verloren en met een kwart aan dagelijkse gebruikers gedaald. En onder tieners loopt het dagelijks gebruik van Instagram terug.

Directeur Neil van der Veer van Newcom concludeert dat niet alleen het gebruik van sociale media blijft toenemen, maar dat mensen ook bij de vertrouwde grote platformen blijven hangen. Hij begrijpt dat wel. ,,Je gaat nou eenmaal niet Twitter opzeggen, alleen omdat je Elon Musk niet vertrouwt. Het vertrouwen in al die platforms is trouwens al jaren heel laag, maar mensen gaan toch niet weg. Ze beseffen ook wat het ze oplevert.”

Bron: AD (Door Dick van As)

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