#i'm ptsd girlies

[buck1eys]

broke: steve and ed saved each other from death

woke: steve and ed saved each other from a miserable life

bespoke: steve and ed saved each other from the pattern of trauma responses they had learned to inhabit but which were hurting everyone around them and poisoning them on the inside, exposing each other to the possibility of a fulfilling life but also necessitating the symbolic death of the old self, thus risking actual as well as metaphorical death in order to move forward into a shared future

[aropride]

am i having premonitions or do i just have anxiety

[omo-goose]

I'm not here to kink shame, I'm really not! but like can all the rape fetishist please fucking tag your posts properly so I don't have to see your shit show up in the omo tag fucking please. like I get it babes, you're here to be kinky and have fun w your fantasy scenes and shit, I get it. but filtering your tags won't fucking work if you're purposefully censoring the word, like I've seen plenty of hidden posts tagged as rape, and it doesn't bother me because they're hidden bc I filter tags I don't want to see! THE FILTER DOESN'T FUCKING WORK IF YOU'RE CENSORING THE WORD.

I'm not above blocking blogs I don't wanna see obviously, it's easy and it's free, but it's also easy and free to just tag your posts properly babes.

[hatake]

it's a good thing i'm cute because i have all this mental illness and still haven't figured out how to be a funny man about it 😩

[avalior]

While it was strongly claimed during Cosmic Turnabout that Clay caused Solomon's unconsciousness by overdosing him on his anxiety medication, this was not the case.

Solomon's PTSD would likely be treated with SSRIs, with the most likely prescriptions being venlafaxine, sertraline, or paroxetine. Of these three, only sertraline has an explicit side effect of potential loss of consciousness -- however, experiencing this side effect would be cause for hospitalisation and would not be conducive to space travel once Solomon was conscious. The only other alternative would be to cause serotonin syndrome by forcing Solomon's serotonin levels to spike beyond control, through either a medication overdose or combining his existing medication with other tablets to raise his serotonin.

However, serotonin syndrome would also run considerable risk of seizures and arrhythmia, which again would not be conducive to space travel and would be far too inexact as to how much of the medication to give Solomon without a) killing him b) causing him to be entirely unfit for space travel, rather than just knocked out for the launch and c) causing any of the other side effects of serotonin syndrome instead of unconsciousness in isolation.

This also does not tally with Simon explicitly stating that traces of medication were found in Solomon's system -- presuming Solomon had blood drawn shortly following Clay's attempted murder being discovered and police arriving, there is no feasible way that Solomon's unconsciousness could have been induced by his medication as the volume needed to cause the unconsciousness would show in far higher quantities in bloodwork than just "traces".

In truth, Clay assisted Yuri in 'managing' Solomon's anxiety with the launch by including generic sleeping tablets in his usual medication, passing them off as additional vitamins and assisting in this deception by taking visually similar actual vitamins himself. It was these tablets which caused Solomon's loss of consciousness for the HAT-2 launch; far safer than hamfistedly overdosing Solomon on his medication until he caused unconsciousness.

Clay worked under the assumption, with Yuri's deceitful confirmation, that the drugging was consensual and Solomon was aware of this potential plan, with Solomon being consensually unaware of the details as to avoid further anxiety. Following his recovery from the Phantom's attack, once he is medically cleared, Clay does stand trial for Solomon's spiking on charges of infliction of bodily harm.

[timsgutterson]

as a librarian, i want you all to know that it's okay to write / read dark things, actually. sometimes that's an important aspect of working through your trauma. there's a big difference between stories that feature content, and stories that glorify the content. and honestly? censorship isn't the cool progressive take that some of you think it is.

[looksmokin]

Hey uhh. Anyone remember all those tips for when your world falls apart for a couple weeks? I've never had a distinct episode like this and it

💕✨Sucks✨💕

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Shades of Red

art in the cover by @ave661 and @shkretart !

chapter one | chapter two | ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x civilian f! reader ✦ Summary: The sole survivor of a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred. The soldier responsible for saving her. He wants to help you, but his own trauma make him withdraw when he wants to get closer and intoxicate when he wants to remedy. He kisses your scars and hopes you'll runaway. He wants you to run away. But you won't. ✦ TW: NSFW, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse and trauma/PTSD, bit of gore, mental illness mentions, slowburn;

A/N: Hello girlies! This is the very first time I get the courage to actually post something I wrote. I've been reading y'all fics behind my screen for so much time now I figured I could start postingggg; so please be gentle with the feedbacks, but be also sincere ♥ also, English is not my first language and although I'm fluent, there might be a mistake or two along the way. Don't feel shy in pointing it out if you see any! Moreover, this will be a long ass one I'm pretty sure, but I might get myself some more courage to post my smut oneshots in some near future. Hope you enjoy! x

Chapter 1 - The Incident | 3.3k

There was ash in the air everywhere. That scenario didn’t frighten him – in fact, Ghost was absolutely sure that at that point in his life, almost nothing could fright him. He had seen much worse things before, he thought silently as he walked towards the building completely destroyed. There was debris everywhere – the building had not collapsed completely, but some parts did not survive the flames and now there seemed to be not even a little bit of life in that place. There were still small portions of flames spread through a few heaps of debris, a terrible smell of wood and burnt concrete; but nothing of that could be worse than the smells of dead, flattered human flesh that once or again invaded his nostrils.

His eyes rolled around in search of any record of life. In vain, he knew: there was no chance that any civilian had survived that. A cruel, dark bombing, a violent and destructive terrorist act. The only goal was to destroy any form of life that could inhabit there, and possibly it had been obtained without any further circumstances. When Price sent the radio search order to all members of the 141, he made it very clear that those efforts were in vain. They would find nothing. We lost today, he said. We could not foresee this, nor can we remedy it. It was a burden they had to cope with on a daily basis - the often inability to do something, to act, was a burden that a soldier should carry. It was part of the job.

Ghost pressed the point button in his ear. “Is anyone listening?” He asked, his eyes checking the entire perimeter of the building behind the skull mask that covered his face. “Have you found something, LT?” Soap answered, his voice hushed by the efforts. “No. I’m making an entrance, there’s nothing out here.” the lieutenant stated, kicking off a few remaining pieces of concrete from the front of his feet and laying the rifle in his hands. Ghost stood in front of the main entrance to the building – that place that should have looked like a reception at some point in the near past - and the movement of his boots against the ground caused the roof above his head to shake a little, and some ash particles fell onto his helmet. He observed the movement, standing still for a few seconds, only for warranty; he did not want to end up becoming one more of those burial victims. 

When the concrete whisper finally stopped stirring his ears, he entered. The lamp of his helmet lit up, and he looked around. His eagle eyes did not lose an inch of that entire perimeter, his ears attentive as those of a bat. He was looking for a sign, whatever it was: a presence, a scream, voices, calls for help. Anything. Anyone.

All he could hear were the sounds of the structure of the building, apparently ready to give in. Ghost tried to enter one of the apartments; his boots sole hit the semi-destroyed grinded surface of the door, and he broke in. He looked around. An enormous smashed chandelier rested violently against the bloody body of a child. 

Many people said Simon was the type of man to have no feelings anymore. That time, scars and trauma had taken from him all and every kind of humanity. He had become a soldier—one of the good, one of the invincible, but nothing aside from that. Nothing but a soldier.

Perhaps that sentence became so repetitive that at some point, he, himself began to believe it. His face remained motionless. The sound of the blood drops hanging on the floor filled his ears, and he snorted for a moment, pressing the point into his ear. “First floor, apartment 102,” he said, coordinating other operators to head to start collecting the bodies. 

His eyes went up to the ceiling, facing the huge blunt in the structure that caused the luster to fall. Maybe the parents' bodies were still there somewhere to be found, he thought. But that wasn’t his job, and unfortunately he didn’t have all the time in the world. He then traced his steps out of the apartment, looking around. As he kept going upstairs, the lantern lit up one hand or another thrown out of a pile of debris. Broken legs, the kinds of horrors that haunt the dreams of ordinary people. 

As Price had said and as he imagined to be fact, there were no survivors. Even when he reached the last floor, without any hope that he would find any movement that were not spasms of lifeless bodies, he tried. He tried to find someone, to do his job with all the mastery he could. His voice echoed through the entire floor, looking for anyone who could answer, but as expected, there was no response.

All that was left was the subsoil, the garage. When he came down the lobby again and found a portion of the staff dragging out some bodies, placing them in black bags, one of the doctors caught his attention. “Lieutenant. Have you finished checking around? Nothing up there?” The man asked, pulling his glasses from the tip of his nose. Ghost is negative. “No, nothing,” he said bluntly.

The doctor seemed to bite his own jaw with some strength, in disappointment. He has baffled. “You don’t even have to check down there. If those above didn’t survive...” he said, giving on his shoulders. Ghost watched him in silence for a few seconds, before finally answering, “Focus on your work, doc. I’ll finish my own.” He said in a nod before starting to push with his crude hands the stones that covered the entrance to the stairs that led to the garage.

His steps echoed. Ghost walked through the parking lot, passed pillar by pillar, checked every car. There were bursting pipes releasing hot steam, a gas leak as well he could tell – and he didn’t want to be there to see what would happen if some kind of ignition occurred. He hastened his steps. He took a deep breath; he was about to press his point and give up, claiming that there were no survivors, but a stifling sound interrupted his action. He looked around, looking for the source of the heavy breath and the little grumbling of pain he heard. His eyebrows cracked almost instantly and he turned around himself, looking around. All his senses were activated at that moment – he began to walk through among the few cars there, following the sound he had heard and then, a hand hitting the air dropped debris to the side of what seemed to be a body. He approached cautiously, throwing the light from his helmet’s lantern in the direction of the sound, and to his surprise, although not perceptible, there was the only survivor of the bombing: you.

A small, female frame shrunk from a pile of debris. Your hair was covered in ashes, your face - the dirty cheeks with the blackness of the material, your arms painted in the scarlet of your blood flowing freely to the ground, glass blades attached painfully to your soft skin. There was a cut down from the top of your forehead until the beginning of your left eyebrow. The completely messy strands of your hair fell against your face, opaque, bright. The expression of fear on your eyes turned into pure terror the moment they met his own, those small cold orbs inside the mask. You instinctively tried to move away from him, push your body away from those debris, away from that huge and frightening man.

When you threw your body to the side, all you could feel was your back against the cold floor, your left leg refused to work. You felt nauseous, stupid, your head turned. Your mouth trembled in a failed attempt to say something, the silence already lasted for seconds enough for you to fear his frame standing ever so tall and quiet. “Please don’t hurt me.” You managed to say, your voice engulfed in a cry that refused to go out. It wasn’t as if it was going to work; if he was one of the terrorists who caused this incident and really wanted to hurt you, then you were at his mercy and there was little you could do about it.

Maybe, if you were in a better mental and physical condition, you’d be able to identify that the rifle in the hands of the man in front of yourself was of a military model. That all his gear pointed out that he was an operator, someone willing to help. Your mind could not process all the necessary information about him at the given moment, although.

“I will not hurt you, lass.” He explained, and for a moment you felt your chest swell in air and it was hard to contain the immense desire to cry. The heavy steps of the man were made against your small, wounded body. He lowered himself, letting the rifle rest next to him quietly. You gulped in dry, still nervous with your eyes raised to his, now a little closer to you. He wasn’t looking at you — he was looking down, seeming to assess how hurt you were. “I’ll tell you what’s happening now. Okay?” He asked, slowly and calmly, his cold eyes now facing your own, visualizing your soul behind the cover of this hurt shell of yours. You stumbled, and he continued. “I’ll take that away from you, and I need you to help me helping you. Alright? You will be well. I just need you to hold your leg and when I push it over, you roll. Understood?” The man asked, his firm and deep voice being the first source of human contact you had since the lightning caused you to wipe out unconscious hours before. You came in for confirmation.

Ghost nodded back and raised his fingers, counting to three. Contrary to what you might have imagined, he didn’t need to do much to lift the huge concrete block that blocked his left leg from moving — he even had some ease in doing so. He held the concrete above his body, his arms backed over you, he sat down. “Roll.” he commanded, and you obeyed as you could. You leaned her hands on the ground and gave a boost; one of your hands instinctively went to the wounded leg, in an attempt to warm up the pain now felt by finally having released it from the rubble. You couldn’t hold a moan of pain, but he was quickly stifled by the sound of concrete hitting the ground when Ghost let it fall back.

You mentally begged that you could endure that. Your eyes were filled with tears, and a certain despair arose through your throat, your mouth. The anguish of finally feeling the unpleasant smell of the environment, the nervousness of realizing that very possibly, few other people survived that disaster, it was overwhelming your already troubled mind. 

Ghost didn’t lose a second in time; he finished positioning the rifle around his body and you felt his arms wrapping you by the waist and the folds of your knees, and he lifted it up with immense ease – it was as if you were featherweight. The gloves in his hands were rough against the sensitivity of your skin, but his touch was as cautious as possible. You could say without a doubt that this soldier of at least twice your height was doing his best not to hurt you any more than you’re already wounded.

“What is your name?” He finally asked, his rifle resting on his back, and you resting over his arms. He wasn’t looking at you – his eyes were fixed ahead, in the direction he was carrying you to, the exit. You answered, and he nodded in acknowledgement. “You can call me Ghost. I am a soldier, yes? We will take care of you.” He said in a clear tactical attempt to calm your nervousness down.

You sat down with your head. “Amelie Miller... Did you find her? My friend, she... did you find her?” You asked, your body trembled as you came to realize his eyes were now boring into yours.

He seemed to look for words that would not hurt you as much as the ones he had to say, but he for one, was not good with words or comforting.

“I’m sorry, girl,” he whispered, in a sigh. “there are no more survivors. You were the only one.”

~ x ~

Your head hurt. Everything hurt; body, arms. There was a blanket around your shoulders and a bottle of water still sealed in your hands. The look in your eyes was empty, blurred; there were a lot of people there. Many doctors, many operators - soldiers like Ghost. One of them wore a mohican, the other had thick eyebrows. The captain was talking to them in an isolated corner, the doctors were talking to each other about your condition, about what should be done from now on. There were agents from the British intelligence surrounding the site, and there were about hundreds of black bags stretched on the floor, closed. You still felt pain, although the healings now prevented blood from flowing freely through your forehead as before. The glass pieces had been removed from your arms, your face was clean now and even so, you never felt so dirty in your entire life.

Every time you dare to blink, you could swear that you would faint. Your hands were getting weaker, loosening around the bottle. The sudden sound of the bottle falling to the ground caught the attention of one of the men there – the captain. As far as you could realize, he called himself something Price.

“Miss.” He said, coming closer to you. Suddenly, there were eyes on you from every angle possible; all of the other soldiers turned to the ambulance where you were sitting now. You slowly raised your face to look back at Price, and he continued. “I’m not going to ask if it’s okay, this question is rhetorical. You need to be hydrated.” He was bowing down in front of you, taking the bottle he dropped and opening it, offering it to you. Your eyes checked at the bottle for a few seconds and your trembling hand finally grabbed it, drinking until the last drop you could - all at once. You could feel your throat burning, your skin seemed to be in living flesh. The appearance of your wounds was not as unpleasant as the feeling of having them, but you knew that all that would leave you some ugly scars.

You could not care about it now – in fact, couldn’t care about anything at all. Your mind was empty and you never felt so apathetic in such a distressful situation. 

“What am I going to do now?” You asked, in a whisper, your eyes completely lost. “I—what am I going to do...?,” you repeated, and there was nothing but an absolute feeling of raw pain and loss in your voice right at that moment, for as much as you tried to hide it.

Price swelled his chest, and his lips compressed into a line. “You don’t have to worry about anything now. We’ll take care of everything,” he assured. “The government has a great defense program for disasters like this, you won’t be without a roof,” he finished, trying to calm you down. You closed your eyes and shaken your head, but you did not respond. There was nothing to say, nothing to do; what could be done besides trusting that everything would go well? Trust that they would have a plan for you, a shelter, doctors, a chance of living after you were supposed to die in such a horrific way?

You didn’t even know if you wanted all that. Didn’t even knew if you wanted to be the only survivor. Surely not: at that time, you would rather have died among the other more than a hundred people who were now in black bags scattered on the floor in front of you. You felt so much - you felt gratitude for their work, for saving you, but at the same time you couldn’t help but to feel like a fraud for surviving while other died. Others that, somewhat, deserved more than you to live. There was so much in your mind now, but little that you could really synthesize and make sense of.

You drowned your face between your hands, unable to cry, but wanting so deeply to hide from them, from those men, from doctors, from the press, from everything. Wanting to be away from everything, wanting to be dead for once.

A little further away, Ghost observed you. His broad arms crossed, his posture relentlessly perfect as always. His eyes looked at your gestures, scanned your body —all those wounds, poor girl, he thought. Although he was sure there was no more of a heart in his chest, he felt comprehensive towards your emotions. The horrors you had lived in such a short space of time, the unbearable consequences that that meant for your poor mind. The trauma. The pain.

He could not help but think that he saw a bit of himself in you. Not a bit of Ghost – a little bit of Simon. A little bit of the little Simon who felt an immeasurable strain in his chest, a void that could not be filled. 

When the doctors finally helped you to get up in the ambulance and sit on one of the available chairs, your face turned over your own shoulder and you found his eyes stuck to yours. It felt intimidating in some way; perhaps the way his confidence didn’t allow him to look away while you stared at him, or something in the way he seemed capable of reading right through you like a good book of his. He was a savior to you, and somehow it still seemed his persona was conflicting with the one of a savior. He was something else, perhaps still a benefactor, but somehow, a very dangerous man.

There was not a single feeling in his eyes, quite the opposite. There was pure coldness, and yours on the other hand carried some gratitude and ingratitude at the same time. You felt grateful that he had saved you, but at the same time, felt angry at him for not having let you die. You entered the ambulance, and your eyes continued to lock a gaze against his until the moment someone closed the car door from outside.

Ghost turned his eyes at last, and saw Price approaching.

“Fuck.” The captain whispered, laying his hands on his waist, looking at all the misfortune that the incident had caused to that place. “How many bodies?” He asked, looking at Simon with the corner of his eyes.

“A hundred and two so far.” Ghost answered quietly.

“And have you found the bodies of the sons of bitches who did this?” Price said with some disgust and hatred attached to his voice. Ghost assented positively, which made Price crack the dust almost instantly into a distressed expression.

“Motherfuckers.” He grunted, turning to the rest of the team. Soap, who had been remaining in silence for thorough all the search, dared to finally speak.

“We have a lot to report, hm?” He raised his eyebrows, and received a Price assent in response.

“To the headquarters." The captain ordered, making his way to the helicopter that awaited for them, and they left.

[lolia21]

I think D.C broke a part of me?

I saw tommy kissing Buck and started laughing manically. I had full on PTSD style flash backs to Timothy Drake, Bernard, and Connee Kent. Like we're gonna go with the worst of all worlds again? I know everyone else is like " Yay! bi Buck! Buddie is next".

I'm over here in tears cackling. Girlies I think this is it. Which is still technically a win. But I'm getting real tires of technical wins.

I'm probably just being negative buttttt just on case... cackling.

[fcb-mv33]

Okay quick recap;

Carlos, Daniel, Pierre, Alex; his past teammates, all got along well with Max and are still very close friends with him

Charles; childhood rival to emotional support rival, enough said

Nyck; friends for years, Max helped him get an F1 seat and rescued him from Merc

Nando; this man has adored Max from day 1 as has Jenson

Lando; his bestie let's be real

Mick; childhood friends who grew up going on vacations together. Literally had their own language because they couldn't understand each other but wanted to be friends.

Yuki; they're hilarious together, it's clear to see that they have a laugh together

Nico H also gets along well with and has a laugh with Max

Nico Rosberg despite being terrified of Max when they were racing each other (I believe deep in my soul that, outside of the Brocedes narrative which ofc played it's part, that this man saw Max at red bull for one year and thought FUCK THIS SHIT I'M OUT because he was reminded of when he was teammates with Michael Schumacher and he saw the writing on the wall), is one of his biggest defenders when sky sports tries to spread bullshit

Antonio has talked about how he's been friends with Max especially since they were in f3 and how Max was one of the first to reach out when he lost his seat

Kimi and Max also got along well

You said it all about Seb and were absolutely correct

For fuck sake even Esteban gets along well with Max and he was the one driver Max clashed with. They were friends growing up, shit happened on and off track, they've moved past it and are friends again because it was five freaking years ago and they've known each other far longer than that but the anti max girlies love to ignore that.

Max might be painted as the villain of F1 like Seb and Schumi before him, but that doesn't make him a villain to the drivers on and off the grid who actually know him. Shock horror he's actually one of the drivers who is loved the most in the paddock.

Max is truly adored by most of the drivers on the grid no matter how hard people want to act like he’s this big bad wolf. He is honestly one of the most popular drivers on the grid with these drivers because of just how he is…he’s sweet and is always looking to talk to all the drivers😭😭

He’s just a little lion who wants to Maxsplain and have fun😭🧡

(Nico getting ptsd of Max being like Michael😭😭😭stop😭)

[animentality]

There was an Astarion kinny who was trying to insist that anyone who calls the Ascended Astarion ending the "bad ending" is shaming abuse survivors for seeking power after being abused.

I'm sorry, I wasn't under the impression that being abused excuses the slaughter of 7000 people, some of whom you are directly responsible for capturing and enslaving in the first place?

Maybe I'm wrong though, maybe when you're abused, you should then be given the power to abuse others, as financial compensation?

Like Christ.

What a weird ass take.

Why is the ending where Astarion gets to be his own person the "bad ending?"

Why is the ending where Astarion is still a spawn, but at least he's free of all of Cazador's influence, his dreadful blood ritual included, the "worse" ending?

You do realize that the Ascension ritual was an evil ritual, and that only Cazador would even seek such a thing? If you really think that Astarion, before he was forced into eternal servitude, would seek out such a ritual himself and be happy to kill 7000 people that he captured and enslaved, then I'm sorry, girlypop.

But he'd be a piece of shit too. He would be exactly the same as Cazador.

And then you could Ascend him, and it wouldn't make any difference at all, becasue Astarion would have been evil from beginning to end.

Which is why I don't get you people.

You want Astarion to be your uwu PTSD abuse survivor baby with a heart of gold, sad broken wings boy, but you also think he SHOULD kill all of the people who are EXACTLY THE SAME AS HIM?

Abuse victims?

The fuck?

I really hope you, as an abuse victim, don't go around shooting other abuse victims. Especially ones who were abused by the same person as you.

In what world would that be ok?

Not even in Baldur's Gate 3, which openly tells you in both endings, that it is the morally incorrect decision.

Just insane. Baffling.

I'm not gonna argue with Astarion girlies on this one, though.

I don't care.

I wanna fuck Gortash, and unlike you, I don't need to pretend he's not awful.

Astarion, in my mind, is a good person who was majorly fucked up and has room to grow and become better as soon as he's away from his toxic environment. Your weird headcanon that he was always destined to be Cazador 2.0 wouldn't bother me at all, if you didn't go around claiming abuse victims should be able to glock people who make them feel uncomfortable.

And also, I say again.

Don't care if you personally LIKE that ending.

I don't care, it's a video game. I have killed the entire world for Bhaal before, it doesn't mean anything.

I just don't get insisting the Ascension ending is the morally correct ending. You can like it, call it good.

But don't call it... "good."

[sparrowlovesskittles]

Thunder review time I guess??

I'm gonna be real I don't have much to say about Sunbeam or Nightheart this is gonna be 90% rambling about Frostpaw

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

Sunbeam

- I like her trials, especially the one about training the kittens hehehe.

- I like her bonding with Nightheart's family and learning to find a place in ThunderClan even when he isn't there!! I think it's a really important aspect of switching clans actually. The cats should be able to be comfortable and happy with their clan even without their mate by their side.

- She really gets some good girlboss moments in!!!!!!! You GO Sunbeam yell at Cherryfall!! Publicly shame Berryheart several times in a row!!!!!!!!

- God is it just me or does she have SO much chemistry with Myrtlebloom

Nightheart

- Him and Frostpaw bonding is quite sweet :)

- Love him nearly drowning in a covered pool and it sounding all scary and dramatic and then we switch to Frostpaw's perspective and she's just like 'that idiot nearly drowned in a tiny little pond the other day ugh 🙄🙄'

- Literally WHY did he just run away without telling anyone at all that's so funny and why does NO ONE even bat an eye LMAO?? Poor Sunbeam

-Idk man he's just kinda there

FROSTPAW

- GIRLIE!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! POOR BABY!!!

- Shoutout to Frostpaw the first warrior cat to be canonically spayed!!!! That's so funny I love how Smokey is just like 'yeah that happens lmao' and her and Whistlepaw are just like 'huh. okay then'. Anyway from now on I'm drawing her with a nicked ear like they do to cats in TNR programs

- Speaking of Whistlepaw. THEY'RE SO SWEET! AND GAY!!!

- Girlie is a mess she's so traumatized literally just nearly got murdered and she fucking SNAPS at StarClan when they refuse to tell her shit. AS SHE SHOULD!! SHE DESERVES TO!!!! RIVERSTAR IS FUCKED UP FOR DOING THIS TO HER, ACTUALLY.

- OTTERS!!!!!!!! About time they got mentioned again, the last time was like literally TNP I think. It was implied otters lived at the lake but now Frostpaw confirms they don't anymore (but the elders definitely know about them). When are we getting the Minnowtail's Genocide novella where she plans the mission to drive the otters out of the lake and then marries Mousewhisker huh warrior cats??????

- Why was Frostpaw more traumatized by climbing a tree than she was by literally being chased by a dog. DGMW it's a good scene, I'm INCREDIBLY glad her PTSD was mentioned in the first place, but I feel like it's kinda weird for her to struggle with the tree when one day earlier she encountered a dog and just sort of... hissed at it a bit and then moved on.

- The park cats have canonically survived for longer than the clans and I am so sorry but that's BS. You're telling me no one in the past like 100 years killed these cats or TNRed them??? How many parks have they been through at this point??

- Frostpaw learning to meditate is so good though actually. Especially when she realises how fucked up the clan system is. If she doesn't fuck up Splashtail and then fuck up StarClan and fix the entire clan system in the next two books I'm gonna riot.

- I adore that she's FAR more distraught about Curlfeather being evil than she is about Splashtail. Like yeah! That's her mother!! That would fuck her up, Actually!! It's refreshing for a character to have familial relationships that are more important than their romantic ones.

- Frostpaw also feels like such a genuinely realistic victim. When she admits that she feels like it was her fault Splashtail was able to manipulate her because she was so naive? And then the park cats all cuddle her and tell her that it wasn't her fault and that HE'S the fucked up one? That scene actually made me cry a bit ngl.

- Hehe Frostpaw meditates now she's a true hippy stoner.

General

- WHY DID THEY PULL A RISING STORM ON US. FROSTPAW JUST STAND UP AND SHOUT AT EVERYONE. ITS NOT TOO LATE. ARGHGDHDHDJDHSJDJHS (I understand she's going through a lot and is very panicked but come ON)

- I like the more personal vibe of this book- the conflict is largely internal, with her realising in her own time that Splashtail was evil. It's not the big dramatic scene I was hoping for- but at the same time it's kind of... Nice? I think it's cool. And I'm sure there will be more drama left to come!

- My prediction for the next two books is that she gets rid of Splashtail and then spends the remainder of the arc yelling at StarClan and fixing the clans. Ideally then I think we should have a soft reboot and jump forward in time, the clans are all operating under new rules, none of the cats are the same, etc. But that's not terribly likely to happen.

- YEAH DOVEWING YOU YELL AT IVYPOOL!! Ivypool deserves it honestly. Dovewing took none of her shit and that's beautiful.

- SQUIRRELSTAR!!!! I wasn't initially too jazzed about this, and I still have my grievances, but I think this is the right time for her to become leader. Go girl give us conflict!! Give us drama!!!!!!!!

- Riverstar is a dick lol??????

[beekneebabey]

BARRY SPOILERS AHEAD:

-Love how Barry was being remarkably nonthreatening when he was talking to Sally but the second he said "That's really beautiful, Sally" I got so scared I almost threw up

-Mr. Hader is ACTING this season the fuckin cop killer monologue?? He's fucking it UP I'm so excited

-I need Hank to be okay I need Hank to be okay I will riot if anything happens to him

- I loved the long take in the Dave and Buster's it made me laugh so hard

-There were so many jokes?? I was so relieved??? I have missed them

-We're popping literally the biggest bottles when Barry and Fuches die but their dynamic is So Fucking Interesting I am eating it for breakfast

-I'm not fucking around when I say Anthony Carrigan needs the fucking Emmy this year I'm not watching him perfectly portray PTSD for nothing!!!!

-Barry betraying Hank straight up fucked me up more than anything else could have and I'm once again repeating that I NEED Hank to be okay!!!

-Mr. Moss is going to beat Gene's ass and I would like to see it

-Fuck Sally's mom, I love when you meet someone's parents and immediately understand their brand of unhinged

-I gasped when Cristobal said Hank was soft

-I love these awful people and I'm gonna scream and cry and throw up if anything happens to them but also half of them can choke, y'know? Which half? Truly depends on the scene

-Once again Bill Hader's acting is just so fucking good and it makes me so much more sure that the big twist in episode 4 will be him dying which I'm not fucking ready for at ALL we will only be popping bottles after sitting shell shocked for hours

I am unwell and my heart goes out to the barry girlies who are also succession girlies cuz yall must be in a coma by now

[lurkingshan]

BL/QL Ask game : The Ugly, the Bad and the Worst

Tagged by @clara-maybe-ontheroad to start some trouble. There are a lot of these, so I'm mostly going to do quick hits and maybe expand on a few that really get me going.

The categories are:

Worst soundtrack / weirdest song choice in a BL

It would be easier to list the BL soundtracks that are not horrible (offense intended).

Most cringe-inducing line (cute)/Most cringe-inducing line (actually bad)

I'm so bad at remembering specific lines of dialogue unless I think they're beautiful/heart-wrenching, so I got nothing.

Most stupid decision made by a character

In a BL?? Baby, I do not have all day.

Worst plot line

Hmmm I'm gonna give in to recency bias and say faking amnesia to get your fiancé to love you again after you iced him out and denied him sex for four years because of your tiger attack-related PTSD (no I am not making that up, never change actually Naughty Babe).

The most problematic show you've watched

Problematic is in the eye of the beholder, so honestly who can say.

A show people love but you find bad

LOLOLOL. There are. So many. Probably the one with the wildest fandom fervor :: Shan personal enjoyment ratio is KinnPorsche.

A show people find bad but you will defend

Theory of Love and y'all stay wrong about this. It is easily one of the best early Thai bls and the writing, character development, and narrative structure are all excellent, but people hate slutty characters so they can't deal with it.

A show that is just objectively bad but you enjoyed it/were horny/because of that one character

Why r u? What can I say, I'm a Fighter/Tutor girlie.

A bad show that you kept watching because you were intrigued/fascinated

Hmmm I usually just drop it if I'm truly not having fun. I guess you could count me finishing Minato's Laundromat 2 despite knowing any hope for it was over at the end of episode 9. I just needed to see how mad I was going to be in the end (pretty damn mad).

A bad show that you would still recommend

There is too much BL nowadays to be trifling with the bad shit.

The character that ruined a show the most/most awful character that you hated

PLERN PLENG (Together With Me). cc: @bengiyo the co-president of the Plern Pleng antis.

Most awful character that you loved

Boston, a beautiful chaos demon (Only Friends).

A character that wasn't awful but that you just don't like

Anyone played by Podd or Jimmy (it's their faces I can't stand them sorry to those men).

A hero that should have been a villain

This is an interesting one! I’m not sure this counts, but I’ll just say I did not love the way The Untamed white washed Wei Wuxian and removed his culpability for all his worst choices (I recognize this was largely due to censorship). I much prefer the more morally complex and deeply flawed version of him we got in MDZS.

A morally bad character you're into/you're not into and you wish people would stop being into

I don't believe in holding fictional characters to real life moral standards. Bad behavior makes for good stories.

The show that disappointed you the most

Let me take this opportunity to drag Plus & Minus again, a show that had all the right ingredients to be a top tier friends to lovers narrative and absolutely blew it to do some beyond clichéd noble idiocy and breakup bs that violated character and undercut the relationship to such a degree that I can never rewatch or enjoy anything about it again.

The Worst Show of Them All Because of Your Own Reasons

Hmm I do not have one. It's rare for me to not be able to find something of value in any media I consume.

Tagging @chickenstrangers @sorry-bonebag @kayatoasted @blmpff @twig-tea in case you want to play!

[ghost-orca]

Channeling Your Love; Chapter 2

Description: You're a music radio show host in Jackson, Joel meets you, what more can I say?

Warnings: PTSD, Trauma, Future Smut: Just pure fluff for now

You can’t leave

Your breath is hitching, you want to scream

No one’s gonna understand if I let you go

Panic, sweat, tears, all of it taking over you

You’re just gonna have to wait here with me, until you really understand girlie

 You wake up abruptly, sweating and breath heavy. “Goddammit” you whisper to yourself, raising the back of your hand to your sweaty forehead. Looking at the clock on your wooden cart bedside cabinet, you see it’s one minute before your alarm is supposed to go off. You lay back down on the bed, relieved to be where you are. You let the minute pass in bliss, jumping up to your feet in excitement for a new day ahead once the alarm finally goes off. 

You place the needle on your record player and press play to start your morning routine with Make Your Own Kind Of Music by Cass Elliot, starting up the shower. You keep the bathroom door open to enjoy the music.“Singgg your own special song” You sing along as the shower water hits your face, your hips swing side to side along with the song, face beaming with appreciation for a daily shower. You remember being prickly when it came to bathing before the outbreak, getting fussy when your mother insisted you needed to take a shower. Something you learned to never take for granted now. Exiting the shower you dry yourself down with a towel, unable to stop yourself from dancing around your studio along with the music after “Even if nobody else sings alongggg”

 Once you're fully dressed in some bootcut jeans and an old t-shirt, you sit yourself down in your office, writing your cue’s for the day you had planned the previous night, when you wanted to just talk with your audience of Jackson, hoping to build a stronger sense of community through your thoughts, even if it mostly comes off as rambling. Whatever works you tell yourself, at least you're trying. You suddenly hear a knock at your entrance door, surprising you. You walk down stairs to the entrance, opening your door to a young girl with red hair and green eyes. 

“Hey there! I’m guessing your Ellie?” you ask

“Um- yeah! That's me!” She responds, her eyes light up 

“Come on in, I've been so excited to meet you!” You say, holding the door open for her. She agrees to come in with a huge grin on her face.

 Ellie starts showing up at 9am everyday from then on, and you teach her everything there is to know about hosting a radio show for the next three weeks while she keeps her journal on hand, writing down almost everything you have to teach her. She watches you intently as you host, dancing with you whenever you do, asking about different bands and songs she’d find in your various selections. She’d start calling you Radio Queen, or R.Q. for short, and you’d found it endearing. Eventually in time, after playing Heart Cooks Brain by Modest Mouse, which Ellie had suggested to play,  you start speaking into the mic. She’s ready, you think. “Listen up Jackson, I think everyone should know that I've had a lovely young apprentice these last three weeks, her name is Ellie, and if you haven't met her, you should! She’s a really great kid, and if I'm ever out of commission, I think Ellie would be perfect for doing the job in my place.” You look towards Ellie, and she’s beaming with excitement. You give her a wide smile back, feeling a sense of pride. She runs over and gives you a hug once the next song starts and you hug her back. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Ellie says, jumping up and down excitedly. You start to feel emotional in the embrace, holding back tears, “You’re welcome kiddo” is all you can manage.

 An hour passes, and you remember Ellie has to go back home soon, you look at her mouthing  ‘say your goodbyes' after the last song ends, she nods in excitement, running over. “Hey Jackson! It’s Ellie here! I'm sure you heard that I’m gunna rule this station one of these days, and it’s gunna be badass!” She shouts into the mic. You start giggling, waving your hand at her to stop before she’s even begun. A knock at the door is heard. You look to Ellie to encourage her to keep going and go downstairs to answer the door. You're still giggling when you open up the front door, shaking your head. Once you look up you make eye contact with Joel, his hand leaning against the wall with his other hand in his pocket. You didn't know he was thinking about how to pose himself for five minutes before knocking on the door in case you had answered. He gives you a subtle smirk, looking down at you. “Heard Ellie got a promotion.” he piped up, rubbing his fingers together with his hand still leaning his body in the same position. You’re dumbstruck by how he holds himself, straightening your shoulders back to perk yourself up as you clear your throat. “She, um, yeah she deserves it. She’s been working really hard here, and we’ve been having alotta fun.” You respond, shyly making eye contact. His hazel eyes look so pretty. You want to stare into them forever. Joel’s still smirking at you, play it cool, old man he thinks to himself. You both hear Ellie from upstairs “And with that, I bid you all adieu with- Liiizstoo-Listo-whata? I don’t fucking know how to pronounce that but it’s by Phoenix!” Her voice draws out the name as the music starts. 

 You slap your hand against your forehead, cringing in embarrassment “Lisz-to-mania.” you whisper to yourself. Joel chuckles, shaking his head “I’m sorry about that, I’ll be sure to talk to her about it.” You start pumping your fist lightly against your forehead, nodding in agreement. You’re aware that Jackson isn’t a judgemental community, but you try to keep things professional in the most light hearted sense to hold up a certain standard, even in a world that doesn’t care about professionalism anymore. Breathing out a sigh, you let it go as Ellie makes her way downstairs to you and Joel. “Hey kiddo, congrats on your big step up the ladder.” Joel says this as he pulls Ellie into an awkward side hug squeeze, Ellie rolls her eyes. “It’s not that big a deal, man.” Her response makes you pout, you thought it was a big deal honestly. You saw it as Ellie making a big step in continuing what you were trying to rebirth into the world, a small win for humanity in rebuilding. Joel notices your disappointment, nudging Ellie. “Not that I’m not fucking thrilled though!” She responds eagerly looking up at you, Joel nods in agreement, “Yeah and I’m real proud of you kiddo, honest to god I came running straight here to give ya a big hug and tell ya how proud I am when I heard the news from Tommy.” He gives Ellie another tight squeeze. Ellie blows a raspberry in response “Tsk, yeah right old man.” Hiding the blush creeping on her face as she looks away out of embarrassment. 

 You watch the two of them in awe, remembering when your father would come home to you and your mother from work, giving you a big hug and letting you go on and on about your day or whatever “cool” rock you had found. Then your mind flashes back to when he hadn't come home, the TV streaming panic on the news “Everyone needs to stay indoors for safety”, your mother crying over the phone dialing over and over “Pick up, pick up, god please pick up.”

 You interrupt your train of thought, “Well, I should get back to it.” putting a lid on your memories. Joel noticed your mind was somewhere else for a moment, “Uh, sure, d’ya need help with anything before we go?” He’s not even sure why he asked, just felt like he had to when he saw the look on your face. “Nah that’s alright, but thanks anyway.” you say, having fully found your bearings now as you pull your hair back, giving him a nod and smile to show you're alright. He nods, “Alright then, give me a holler if you need anything. Let’s get going Ellie'' he starts making his way back with Ellie, “Thanks Joel. Ellie, I’ll see you at 9 tomorrow?” You ask, “Yep! Seeya!” Ellie waves her hand up in your direction, already walking back a couple steps ahead of Joel leisurely. Joel stops a moment to look bad at you, “Sure you're alright?” he asks out of earshot from Ellie, drawling in a slight whisper with concern in his voice. You look at him as he doesn’t break eye contact, slightly taken aback by his concern for you, but find it endearing. “Yeah, just a bit tired is all.” You manage to answer as you feel your belly start to tighten, cheeks warming up. He smiles and nods again, “Alright then.” pacing his way down to follow Ellie home as you watch his back walk away from you, noticing how defined his shoulders are even in a winter jacket.

 A few hours pass in solitude, two glasses of bourbon in for the night to come to a close for your show. You watch snowfall cover the town as smooth jazz plays, it's so peaceful. You look down at a familiar small box in the cupboard next to your desk. Pulling it out and placing the box on your desk, you lift the boxes covering, staring at a lone silver lighter with the engraving of a topless mermaid, the edges of it smoky and blackened. You take the lighter out of the box, observing it, then switching the lighter on to see if it will still set aflame. It does, and you shudder. Still burning, after all these years you think to yourself. A hidden secret that no one dares to try to uncover. Placing the lighter back into its box and under the cupboard, you sigh, and take a long sip of your drink. 

 As the final note fades out you bring the recorder up to your lips to say goodnight to Jackson with a final song, Weak by SWV “I hope everybody has a somebody that they can dance along to this song with, ‘fore closin’ the curtains'' Your words are a bit slurred from the alcohol in your system. “And with that, I bid y’all a goodnight.” Cutting out you pick yourself up to sway along slowly, snapping along to the beat. Your head spins as you do, “Can’t explain why your loving makes me weak” sung along. A knock at the door makes you jump, and quickly you fix yourself to get ahold of your bearings. Going down to answer the door in frustration you assume it's Maria asking you to take on a patrol job for someone the night before, again. “Maria, I’ve told you before you have to give me atleast a day’s notice to- '' swinging open the door mid sentence, you see it's not Maria, but it is in fact Joel. He looks cold, like he’s been standing there in place for a while, waiting for you - He was, working up the courage to knock on your door- his eyes widened upon seeing you, not expecting that you would really answer. 

 “Sorry-” You start saying at the same time, both surprised at each other's company. “Uh, you go first, sorry.” you're flustered, what is he doing here? You think, but you realize that you're somewhat happy to see him. He looks away from you, rubbing his bearded cheek, embarrassed. What the hell am I doing here? He thinks to himself. “I was uh, I was at the bar and I heard you talking on the radio and thought, you might have wanted some company. It’s my day off tomorrow, so, I don’t gotta get up early.” Your face starts heating up, Is he insinuating what I think he…? It dawns on Joel what he’s just said to you, “I didn't mean it like- I don't- ah christ.” You blink, he is making this so damn awkward you think, you’d almost find it adorable if you yourself didn't feel so embarrassed. I am making this so damn awkward Joel thinks to himself, unable to bear it all. “I should just go, I’m sorry for bothering you so late. G’night.” Before he can make a run for it and huddle in shame in the comfort of his own home you call out his name, “D’you...do you wanna share a drink with me?” You start regretting your words once they come out of your mouth, your legs start to shake. Joel looks at you with surprise, letting the moment go quiet for what feels like ages. “Never mind, sorry, goodnight Joel-” before you could slam the door shut and cringe yourself to sleep, Joel catches his foot between the door and its frame. He holds back a pained groan from the fast impact and sheer strength you put into the doors swing. “Shit! Joel, I am so sorry!” You flail your hands widening the door away from his almost crushed foot. “S’alright” he winces out weakly, he’s trying really hard to act like it doesn't hurt that much, but it really does. “Come on, lemme put some ice on that.” You've fully widened the door to invite him in, and he agrees. 

 You attempt to reach a hand out to him to help him up the stairs, but he just raises his hand up shaking his head, insistent on helping himself up. You book your way to the fridge and open the freezer to grab some ice cubes and make an impromptu ice pack covering a small handful with a cloth hand towel, wrapping it up with the hair tie you were using on your ponytail.

Joel limps his way to your old couch, and sits, feeling the uncomfortable springs in the mattress. Should really get ridda this old thing, or at least replace the mattress, wouldn’t be good for their back, he thinks to himself. You sit yourself down on the couch to give him the icepack you made, telling him to put his foot on your lap, and he hesitantly agrees.

You almost take his shoe off for him but feel it would be overstepping, asking him to take his shoe off for you politely. Once it's removed he places his sock covered foot in between your thighs. You place the towel full of ice cubes against his foot and hold it there for a few seconds. “Be sure to hold this in place for a while.” You tell Joel, he nods, unable to speak or look at you at this point, feeling embarressed. He must be mad at me, you assume. You get up and grab the bottle of bourbon from your office and bring over two glasses from your kitchen cabinet to the coffee table. Pouring each of you a glass, you start by apologizing profusely, “this should help with the pain at least.” you say handing a glass to Joel, and he thanks you, taking a sip…

 You spend the next thirty minutes in silence, slowly sipping your drinks while you sit scrunched up at one end of the couch with Joel’s leg stretched out across it sitting opposite you. You finally decide you should play some music on your record player to fill the dead air. “Is there uh- any music you like Joel?” You ask as you get up to look through your various records that you could play. Joel thinks on this for a moment, and you watch him think with anticipation, excited to learn what makes this man enjoy himself. “Zeppelin. You got that anywhere in your collection?” He finally decides. You start grinning ear to ear, quickly digging through your rock albums stack for your copy of Led Zeppelin III.

Once you place the needle on the vinyl disc, Immigrant Song starts playing. You begin bumping your head along with the drum beat and chords. You turn and see Joel is nodding along as well, mouthing along to the “ah ah ahhh”’s of Robert Plant’s singing, eyes shut while his finger waves along with the melody. You start dancing along casually, staying in place as your arms raise and hips start to sway. In this moment what you share is so precious, two people without a worry in an uncaring and gruesome world. The music starts to fade out and you see him watching you, Joel’s been watching you closely the entire time. Swallowing, like your tongue is stuck in your throat, you turn the music down so as not to disturb any sleeping neighbors and plop down on the couch next to him. He watches you push your hair away from your face as he slowly takes a long sip from his glass, drinking you in. 

 Time passes while you both make small talk about the songs as they play, and you realize Joel has rested his leg on your thighs, must have two songs ago. You’ve both finished your drinks at this point and the stillness in the air makes you notice how fast your heart is beating in your chest. Since I’ve Been Loving You reverberates against the walls, and you share a long glance. Joel doesn’t blink, just looks stares and starts making a sultry grin at you. Your heart stops and you look away, pretending to focus on something, anything to peel your eyes away from him before you give yourself away. A heat is pooling in your cheeks and in between your thighs. Joel starts nodding to himself, with a quiet chuckle unheard by you as the music drowns it out. Mighty shy, that one Joel thinks. You let some time pass before deciding to speak, “Joel?” You ask shyly, still not looking in his direction. “Yes darlin’?” Darlin’? Oh man…You find courage and turn your head swiftly to look at him, “I’m really sorry I hurt your foot”, You whisper as you start rubbing your hand up and down the leg he has laid out on you. This cracks Joel up, and he slowly blinks, You are just the most adorable thing he thinks. “I forgive you.” Joel says finally, a smirk on his lips. You bite your lower lip and nod. Sitting in continued silence for what feels like hours, you both slowly drift off to sleep holding the same positions, comfortable in each other's company.  

[tg-pilled]

Touka/Yoriko

Okay this isn't fanfiction (yet) but just little thoughts on their day to day lives :)

Even once Yoriko officially knows Touka is a ghoul and they're dating, Touka still goes to restaurants (not Anteiku Café) and will feed Yoriko food and buy her as much food as she wants

Touka makes Yoriko coffee every morning before they leave for work

TOUKA AND YORIKO SWAPPING CLOTHES AND SKIRTS

Yoriko incorporating cute rabbit patches or rabbit designs into her outfits

TOUKA AND YORIKO GETTING THEIR NAILS DONE TOGETHER (also them teaching Kaneki and Hide how to paint their nails)

This one especially hits hard but at home, Touka eventually becomes comfortable enough to eat in front of Yoriko and so they start having dinner together :( (this is like. WAY in the future.)

At their wedding (yes they get married because I say so) they wear opposite colour schemes. Touka's dress is black with silver linings and a purple lace while Yoriko has a more traditional white wedding dress

When they first start dating, Yoriko not-so-secretly loops pinkies with Touka or will 'trip' so Touka will hold her hand or hold onto her. Touka knows what's happening but decides to embrace it anyways and only calls Yoriko out on it once they're married

Since Touka can't eat human food, most of their dates consist of them staying in watching movies and falling asleep on the couch together. Yoriko LOVES running her hand through Touka's hair and uses it to reassure her whenever Touka might become anxious about Yoriko leaving or PTSD strikes

Touka trains Yoriko for battle in case anything similar happens to them like what happened to Nishiki and Kimi (although Tsukiyama would be hunted for sport if he ever tried anything like that again)

Okay I know by anime law none of the characters dye their hair BUT Yoriko dyeing Touka's hair and rebleaching it (in the same breath, Touka buying Yoriko cute headbands, head scarfs, hair pins, etc. and doing her hair before work)

Touka and Yoriko having lazy days where they just lay in bed reading to each other :(

Anyways I'm insane and I love them more than life itself! If anyone and I mean ANYONE says I made Touka 'too feminine' or 'she wouldn't wear a dress blah blah blah,' I will ignore your incorrect opinion and bite your ankles. Idk why the some people make Touka so masculine all of the time like she's a strong fem lead but she's also a girly girl who likes pink and rabbits like? Be fr