#if someone tries to argue about this case with me in my inbox or dms i will block them or delete their anons i am so tired

[avvrice]

I don’t even know much about Amber Heard but I find it extremely ironic how she’s provided evidence for how Johnny is an awful person (photographs of him being drunk and laying on the floor, footage of him being aggravated and being abusive, him literally being friends with Marilyn Manson, and text messages where he is the most vitriolic and vile), and yet, she’s somehow the one with the hidden agenda. 1/4

2/4 Amber’s verdict is a joke and it shows how much of a joke the American justice system itself is. With how many people are making fun of her, blindly supporting Johnny, and even going as far as to discredit the MeToo movement; they don’t care about domestic abuse victims of either gender. They just want to push their own agenda and gain power. If Johnny’s reputation was really as ruined as people claimed, then how come he has had a gigantic amount of support despite the fact?

How come he’s treating this case more like a joke with him laughing at certain points and making jokes when this is supposed to be a serious defamation case? How come he was able to easily fly to England but never showed up for court for his verdict? Shit like this is why I hate celebrity culture. God help humanity if this is how people see as “justice” for now on. 3/4

He’s not doing this to save his reputation. Johnny is doing this to permanently humiliate Amber to the point where no one hears about her again. He just wants revenge plain and simple and the fact people are blindly supporting him and treating him as if he’s just a misunderstood victim when he’s not is fucking disgusting and an insult to actual male abuse victims as well as female. It’s misogyny. 4/4

yeah i pretty much agree with you anon. there’s nothing i can add here because you’re reciting my own thoughts on the matter perfectly. im not going to use my blog to talk extensively about this case at all, i find the whole ordeal pretty stressful, but i am upset at the verdict and the horrific media smear campaign against amber heard in general. im just glad to hear someone sharing my opinion tbh

[ghostburs-blue]

hello! if you can, could you do prompt 46 and 57 with spencer pls?

I’m soso sorry it took so long for me to answer this! I’ve been struggling with a major case of writing block but I hope you like it <33 I wanted to give you quality work instead of trying to rush on it and get this out as soon as possible! Enjoy anon and thank you for supporting me!

You’re Perfect

Request:  “ hello! if you can, could you do prompt 46 and 57 with spencer pls?” > #46:  “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so…” / #57:  Heart eyes when the other talks, sings, dances, argues, does literally anything especially things which others make fun of them for or find annoying

Summary: People are mean and y/n doesn’t love herself

Warnings: talks about not eating, not drinking, low self-confidence, mentions of depression, in general lots of angst, fluff ending *please don’t read if any of these are sensitive or triggering topics for you!!!!* 

Word count: 3k

A/n: this was actually a really good way to relieve my own feelings <3 it was almost a vent write? please DO NOT read if these are triggering subjects to you. i want you all to know that you’re beautiful and spectacular and you all mean so much to me. please take care of yourselves! my dm’s and inbox is ALWAYS open for you to come and talk to me if you feel as though you need to or want to. love you all dearly!

~story below the cut~

You gave a small laugh as you grabbed another piece of bruschetta from the plate in front of you.

“Are you sure you want to eat that y/n?” One of your friends, Sadie, casually commented.

Your hand faltered as you brought the piece of bread to your mouth.

“I- what do you mean?” You asked, slightly confused.

“I just mean,” Sadie paused and looked around the room at the group of girls clustered on the sofas together. “You’re getting a little plump, you know?” She laughed. “Especially around the… stomach,” she waved her hand around your tummy area.

Some of the other girls nod. “Yeah, watch out. Especially if you want to look good in that bikini you bought for our beach trip,” another girl, Maddy, smirked.

You carefully placed the bruschetta back on the plate, trying to give a small smile. “I, I wasn’t hungry anyway,” you attempted to give a small smile that you hoped hid your tears. “Thanks for the warning guys,” you offered.

The group smiled. “Of course, we’re just here to tell you the truth,” Sadie chirped. You gave a curt nod.

You ended up leaving the hangout early, you had lost your mood to have fun after the… interesting comments made.

Heading back to your apartment, you shut your phone off and took a hot shower. 

It was only 10:30 when you decided to call it a night, not bothering to check your phone for any messages or notifications.

You woke up early the next morning, slowly climbing out of bed. 

Making your way to the bathroom, you stood in front of your mirror. You stared at your reflection, taking in your appearance. Almost numbly, your hands rose, pulling and pushing at the skin on your face.

They made their way to your lips, dragging the flesh down with it. They froze as they reached your mouth, a single finger tracing the outline of it.

“I love your lips,” Spencer’s voice echoed throughout your head. “They’re beautiful and feel so good under mine,” he assured you. You had just told him about your insecurities about them; growing up, many had told you that they were too large, didn’t fit well with your face. Spencer kissed all the confidence back into them, making you feel good about them again. The memory slowly vanished from your mind.

No, you fought back. No, he’s a liar. No part of me was beautiful then, no part of me is beautiful now, you thought angrily, hands gripping the countertop so hard your knuckles turned white.

You brushed your hair and teeth, throwing on only enough makeup to hide your dark circles and sunken cheeks, much less than normal. Trudging to your room, it was the same story with your outfit. Normally you liked to make your outfit cute and coordinated; today you had no drive to do anything of the sort.

Throwing on a plain white blouse and some mom jeans, you grabbed your phone, keys, and a bottle of water before leaving for work.

Pulling into the parking lot, you stepped out of your car and immediately kept your head down as you walked in. It was still early, early enough that probably only Hotch would be here.

You sat down at your desk in the bullpen as you grabbed pulled a stack of manila folders. Today was supposed to be a paperwork day, meaning there would be no stress or hassle of cases or investigations. Nonetheless, the rest of the team and you always had a go-bag underneath your seat for any emergencies. You prayed there wouldn’t be one today.

As 8:30 rolled closer and closer, more of your teammates started showing up. Morgan was first, exclaiming a loud, “Hey babygirl!” when he first saw you. You offered a small smile and stood up to hug him like you always did when you saw each other in the morning. You watched as he briefly skimmed your outfit, taking in the look. You noticed as his lips pursed, then stretched into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he headed to his desk.

Next came JJ, then Garcia, following the same pattern as Morgan. The same tight-lipped, overdramatic smiles. Then, Reid. The one you were dreading the most.

He practically ran in, slightly out of breath and winded as his eyes frantically searched the room. They softened and his body relaxed as they landed on you.

Walking over, he spun your chair to face him, tilting your head up to meet his gaze when you hesitated to make eye contact with him. He kissed your forehead as he spoke to you gently.

“Hey babe, I was worried when you didn’t reply to my messages last night or this morning,” he murmured. You looked up and tried to hide the look of despair in your eyes.

“Yeah, I decided to sleep a little earlier than normal,” you lied easily, attempting to relax your rigid body posture.

Spencer clearly didn’t buy it, but didn’t try and push you further on the topic. He nodded, kissing you once more before heading to his own desk.

Turning back to the mountain of paperwork in front of you, you didn’t need eyes on the back of your head to know that the rest of the team was talking behind your back.

You stood up suddenly, heading to the kitchen to grab some coffee. You brewed yourself a fresh pot, back pressed against the counter as you absentmindedly scrolled on your phone while waiting.

As soon as it was done, you poured yourself a cup of the dark liquid, not caring about how hot it was. Walking out the room, you turned the corner, promptly running into Garcia. The coffee splashed out of the cup and onto your white shirt, effectively staining it and turning it seethrough. You hissed from the pain.

“Oh, hon I’m so sorry!” Garcia exclaimed, frozen in shock. Coming to her senses, she quickly ran into the kitchen and came out with a few paper towels.

She tried to dab your shirt and soak up the liquid, but it wasn’t doing much. The wet fabric clung to your body, and you felt extremely exposed standing in the hallway, where anyone could see you.

“Do you have any extra shirts?” Garcia fretted, trying to stay calm. You gave a small nod and grabbed her arm, smiling.

“Love, it’s okay. It’s just a shirt,” you murmured, though it seemed like you were trying to reassure yourself more than her. “I’m going to grab one from my go-bag, okay?” You comfortingly squeezed her hand, then turned to head into the bullpen.

You took a deep breath before stepping out into the brightly lit area. Uncomfortably, you crossed your arms over your midsection, quickly making your way over to your desk. As you bent down to grab your go-bag, you felt everybody’s eyes burning into you. A touch on your shoulder caused you to jump and replace your arms.

It was just Spencer.

“Y/n, is everything okay? What happened?” He gestured towards the coffee stain peeking out from the top of your crossed arms, attempting to pull them down to see more. You stepped back and only tightened your hold on your body, shaking your head.

“It’s only a little spill,” you reassured him. “I just need to grab a change of clothes,” you smiled at him.

Unzipping the duffel bag, you swallowed as you looked inside. All the shirts were tight-fitting, accentuating your body. You closed it suddenly.

“On second thought,” you winced and looked up at Spencer. “Do you still have my hoodie in your car?” You asked him. He nodded, confused.

“Yeah, I do. Why? Don’t you have clothes in here?” Reid asked, gesturing towards the bag.

“Uh, yeah, but… I’m feeling cold?” You replied, voice turning up at the end. He frowned.

“I’ll go get it. Just, stay here?” He offered, heading to his car to get the jacket.

Sitting down in your chair, you attempted to make yourself as small as possible and hide from the confused stares of the others. Just as you were sure someone was going to break the deafening silence, Spencer reappeared with the light grey hoodie in his hands.

You breathed a small sigh of relief, almost feeling like you could cry as he handed it to you. Thanking him, you went to the bathroom to change.

Stepping out of the restroom, you caught sight of JJ ahead of you, walking in your direction. She stopped, greeting you with a smile.

“I was just about to tell the team,” she started. You groaned, already knowing what she was going to say. JJ nodded, agreeing with you. “We have a case. Head to the briefing room as soon as possible,” she said with a grim look. You nodded, heading straight there and nabbing a seat.

The rest of the group filed in, and you saw Hotch and Rossi for the first time that day. Hotch gave you a once over, taking in your grey baggy hoodie and loose jeans. Some emotion filled his tired eyes, something you were too exhausted to decipher. You didn’t even bother to look at Rossi.

JJ started the briefing, the team adding comments and guesses throughout. It was a sad case, surrounding women being abducted from college campuses in California.

Hotch stood, surveying everyone before he announced, “Wheels up in an hour.” The group disassembled, everyone flocking to their desks to grab what was needed. You remained seated, taking a deep breath before slowly standing up and following the others.

If anyone noticed your mood, they didn’t say anything. You all had an hour before takeoff, so the group collectively decided to head for a quick lunch.

You didn’t order anything, claiming you felt a little under the weather when Spencer nudged you and asked about it. You nursed a glass of water and stayed out of the conversation, only giving your two cents when someone prompted you to.

Eventually, you all boarded the plane. You still didn’t eat, looking in disgust at your go-bag filled with clothes pushed below your seat.

The moment the aircraft landed, you pushed yourself into work. You didn’t give yourself much time to eat or drink, taking on job after job to solve the case. It was tiring, but it kept you hidden from the problems you desperately needed to face. So, you did it without complaining.

The clothes were a big part of the problem. Pulling a black pencil skirt out from the duffel bag after you had settled in the hotel room, you were met with a memory.

Spencer’s arms wrapped around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. You both stood in front of a floor-length mirror, gazing at your reflection in the clear glass. He pulled back just enough to twist your head towards him, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

He grinned at the sight of the two of you in the mirror, drinking in how the skirt looked on you.

He groaned. “You look so good,” he whispered, causing you to smile and laugh a little.

“Thank you babe,” you replied, a grin gracing your features. “I needed new clothes for work, figured that this would be okay to wear,” you giggled. Reid nodded violently.

“Wear this and I won’t be able to concentrate on anything for the rest of the day,” he murmured in your ear, causing you to give him a playful shove.

Looking at the skirt now, you wanted to vomit. It was tight in all the wrong places, making your body look bigger than it already was in your eyes. With a sigh, you stuffed it back in your bag and sat on the ground, back against the bed.

You pushed the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to stop the flow of tears threatening to be released.

You jumped up as a knock sounded at the door. It just turned out to be JJ; she was letting everybody know about the plans for the next day.

Though you could see a small frown grow on her lips, she didn’t say anything about your disheveled appearance.

Most everyone gave up on trying to get you to sleep or take time off once the case had begun. They had tried to force you to take a break, but the team knew that you rarely stopped working until you solved the murder(s) you were assigned to.

However, only Reid seemed to notice the extent of your overworking; this was too much, even for you. But every time he made an attempt to talk to you about something other than work, you would cut him off or divert him back to the task on hand.

You felt as though you were sinking. You had all the lifelines you needed surrounding you, all you had to do was reach out and grab one. Every time you tried, your limbs went heavy and your arms refused to move. You were sinking, and didn’t know how to swim.

After what seemed like far too long, you had narrowed down a suspect for the abductions of the poor women.

It was Hotch’s idea to send you and Morgan in first. According to the profile, he would listen to strong female authority, while Morgan would back you up and make sure you were safe.

The plan worked great, fortunately, and the team was able to save the kidnapper’s most recent victim from a horrible death.

As forensics teams swarmed the scene after handcuffing the predator, the rest of the group and you surveyed the house. The majority of the predictions made were accurate; mind the minor few details scattered here and there.

As you, Reid, and Emily walked through the main bedroom, you felt a sudden bout of weariness come on. You leaned against the wall, trying to control your breathing.

You faintly heard Emily talking about something in the background, but you couldn’t fully make it out. Your eyes closed, and you felt yourself slowly sink to the floor as you lost the little amount of strength you had left in your body.

You became aware of footsteps rushing over to you, the sound of Spencer’s voice growing louder and more frantic.

“Y/n? Y/n can you hear me?” He exclaimed, looking around for help. Eyes focusing on Emily, the last thing you heard was someone screaming, “MEDIC!”.

Your eyes blinked open, slowly adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. You had been in and out of consciousness since the crime scene, remembering vague snippets of strangers’ voices calling out or Spencer’s worried face looming over you.

Looking down at your body, you had been dressed in a white hospital gown, though majority of you was covered in a blanket. Turning your head to the side, you caught sight of Reid dozed off in a chair next to your bed.

“Babe,” you called out, but your throat was dry and hoarse. Clearing your throat, you tried again. “Reid!” You said. He woke with a start, eyes panicked. They softened as they landed on your small smile.

“I- what happened?” You asked him, coughing slightly. A small frown settled on his lips.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispered, looking hurt.

You gave him a confused look. “Tell you what?” You replied.

He shook his head. “That you haven’t been eating or drinking enough,” his voice cracked slightly, causing your heart to break a little. You gazed into his deep brown eyes, melting as you noticed the pools of tears forming in them.

“I can explain,” you started, but he shook his head.

“The doctors said you had orthostatic hypotension, or a fainting spell caused by starvation, dehydration, and stress,” he murmured. You felt a sigh escape as you looked away from your boyfriend sitting next to you. You couldn’t bear to see the disappointment etched on his face.

“I’m not good enough for you,” you muttered under your breath, not expecting him to hear it.

“What?” He asked, caught off guard.

You turned to face him again. “I’m not good enough for you!” You exclaimed loudly, throwing your hands in the air. “In fact, I’m not good enough for anything. I’m not smart enough to be on the team, I’m not pretty enough to be your girlfriend, and I sure as hell am not good enough to mean anything to anyone.” It was your turn to start crying.

Spencer quickly rose, grasping your hand tightly in his. He looked at you, and you could see the love and pain swirling in his eyes. “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re the light of my life, the highlight of my day every time I see you. You’re the perfect ray of sunshine our office needs, hell, what the team needs to get through cases. You are perfect, y/n. I love you so much. Please, never believe those things about yourself. You’re perfect just the way you are,” he finished, tears streaming down his face.

Without a second thought, you looped your arm behind his neck and pulled Spencer in for a kiss. His lips were salty, the taste of his tongue mixing with the salty wetness from his tears. You two pulled apart, breathing heavily.

“I love you too,” you whispered, pressing your foreheads together before hugging him tightly.

Slight coughing by the door caused you two to look up. You grinned as you noticed the rest of the team standing by the doorway, bittersweet smiles on their faces. They entered the room, each giving you a hug and scolding you about your current situation. You forgot how much you missed them.

From that day onwards, you worked towards loving yourself. It took a long time, months blending into years before you felt comfortable in the body you had been given. But no matter what, you had your rock. You had Spencer, and you were better because of it.

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

To stop the accusation that I’m dragging this out to please the drama llamas, I’ve studied everything I got (and spent a fair amount of time searching for things on blogs), and managed to whittle things down to their bare essentials. I’ve also tried to talk to everyone about everything, which took time. I won’t address everything that everyone has said on both sides, just a few points that are either concrete, or I can’t address them privately for whatever reason.

The timeline as I’ve been able to piece it together is like this:

Vanessa made a post about more popular writers complaining about lack of feedback. 

Beka messaged Vanessa wanting to know why Vanessa had a problem with her.

Vanessa responded in a way that upset Beka.

Beka blocked Vanessa.

Vanessa got around the block and sent anonymous asks to Beka.

Beka outed Vanessa by responding to the asks publicly.

Vanessa deactivated her blog.

Friends of both proceeded to attack each other.

Claims about Beka (this is not a complete list):

Only supports her friends on her blogs and in Pond Angel Fish Awards

Although it’s been a couple of months since Beka has reblogged fics from other writers at all, by going back through her #read with me tag, I see reblogs of fics from at least a dozen different writers just in May and June. I’ve only been tracking Angel Fish Awards since February, but since then, Beka has nominated 8 stories by 8 different writers.

Ignored asks for Big Fish advice sent to her blog

If there were a way for me to prove this, then I wouldn’t be listing it here. As it is, it’s impossible to prove. As a Pond admin, I’ve experienced the weirdest stuff with asks. I spent one evening chatting with a member while they repeatedly tried to send in asks, and we didn’t get a single one. I do know that asks sent via the app seem to be more likely to be eaten than asks sent via desktop, but asks sent both ways have disappeared. 

There are other claims, this is not a complete list, but I will be addressing them with Beka personally (I have already started doing this, actually). I’m only including these two because they can be proved or disproved with facts. Some of the other claims have been leveled against Big Fish in the Pond other than Beka, as well. The Pond will deal with those privately, but we hope you will see an improvement in these areas when the Pond returns from hiatus.

Claims about Vanessa:

I’ve talked to Vanessa about these, without anything constructive coming from it. I tried. I tried to explain to her that she could have gotten further by using less provocative language and offering constructive suggestions. We ended up having the same old arguments about unrelated issues and going around in circles. The only thing Vanessa ceded was that she should not have continued to reach out to Beka after Beka blocked her. She has apologized for this. I don’t need to list the rest here, just know the conversation happened and nothing came of it.

Claims about Beka’s opposition:

Made unsubstantiated claims about Beka sending herself anon hate

I’ll be the first to tell you that I don’t have a single clue how to figure out who has sent an anonymous ask on Tumblr. However, what I do know is that it requires access to the inbox the ask was sent to. In order for someone who is not Beka to say that Beka sent herself an anonymous ask, they would have had to have hacked into her account, somehow. I don’t know much about this, but it sounds illegal. Since there was proof of this offered, it’s a useless claim.

Picked apart posts on her personal blog and said they were intended for her writing audience when they were not

Beka’s personal blog was, she thought, relatively private. It was not meant for her readers to see. (There is an argument to be made about how it’s still a public blog that the world can see, but the charge is that she intended for her readers to see it and respond, and that is not the case.) Yet, someone took it upon themselves to stalk it, and then match posts between the two blogs, making it look like it all came from one blog. They then took their argument to the absurd and claimed she was using her mental health issues to drum up patrons on her Patreon. If that were the case, then it all would have been on her writing blog. But it wasn’t.

Belittled Beka’s cries for help, and then attacked her further

I don’t care if you didn’t believe her when she said she was on the edge, you just don’t do that, folks. That right there is the point where you either walk away or report her to Tumblr as a threat to herself. The last thing you do is double down on your attacks. Take a break, walk away, find a kinder, gentler way to make your point. I don’t care who they are or what they believe or have done, when someone puts the gun to their head, you do not tell them they are an awful human being.

Dissected every post, word by word, including auto tags, using intentionally provocative language

Not every post made was like this, but a lot were. This is high school stuff, guys. To rip apart words used by someone obviously in pain instead of reaching through and looking for the meaning behind it is petty and cruel. Not to mention it takes so much more energy to dig into things like that than to just respond to the meat of things. To take someone’s blog name and twist it into a degrading moniker is sickening. To attack words used in an effort to distract from the topic at hand, or to just add on to the already heaping pile of anger you’re throwing around is unconscionable and pointless. This is not what people who are coming from a place of love or kindness do. This is what you do when you hate someone, and that’s just not cool, guys.

Brought up old issues thought to have been settled a long time ago

My husband calls this “stamp collecting.” There’s a statute of limitations on things, and it depends on the thing, but my personal limit on Tumblr is about two weeks. If nothing has been said about something for two weeks, I assume it’s in the past and I try to move on. I say this because, if it weren’t settled, then we’d all still be working on it, right? If something is bothering me, and I work on it with someone, but I’m not happy, then I’m gonna keep working on it with that person. If they seem to forget (which happens because we’re all human), then I’m gonna send them a quick message. “Hey there! I’m still working on this thing. Can we talk about it again?” I do this with contractors who work on my house. I did this with clients when I worked in an office. To bring up something that happened a long time ago like it’s still an active issue is pointless, and goes against one of the main tenets of effective arguing.

Taking obvious glee in tearing down another person

Do I really have to talk about this? If you had any care for the other person, even enough to just care that they are a person, you would not gloat about how you’re going to tear them apart.

Really, all of this stuff comes down to if you are approaching the world and everything you do from a place of love or from a place of anger and pain. Even if you are angry and in pain, treat other people like you love and respect them, and you will find that everything is just better. 

If you feel like I’m coming down on one side or the other of this situation, just know that I’m not. Pretty much, I don’t like things that were done by both sides. These are just the things I feel more comfortable talking about in a public post like this.

Other stuff that’s come up in the course of all of this:

Complaining about notes/followers

So many writers, lately, are frustrated. Tumblr sucks balls on a good day when it comes to notifications and the whole algorithm mess, and that’s still being generous. In an effort to keep the porn blogs at bay, they’ve stifled all creators. Add to that how tags seem to never work when you’re searching for something, and disseminating your work is nearly impossible.

I could tell you all the different ways you can change your focus on the readers you do have, give you lists of things you can do to expand your audience, and offer advice about not comparing yourself to other writers. But you’ve already heard all of that. So, I’m just gonna say it.

If you complain publicly about a lack of notes or followers, you’re gonna look like a dick.

That doesn’t mean you are a dick. You’re just gonna look like one. You’re going to look like you’re ungrateful for the readers that you do have, which is going to turn off those readers, and you’ll end up with even fewer notes and followers. If you manage to disparage other writers while you’re complaining, you’re gonna look like an even bigger dick. So, just don’t do it, unless you don’t mind looking like a dick. 

Need to vent about it? Find a close friend and send it to them in a private message. Have a funny thought about it that you want to share? This is exactly what private messages are for. Create a group DM in discord. Heck, I think even Tumblr has a group chat option, now. Just, don’t put it on your blog, unless you want to lose followers. 

The number of admins at the Pond

Some folks seem to think that the Pond needs to add more admins in order to react more quickly when something goes down. Honestly, I have talked to Mana and Kale about stepping down as admin because I believe the opposite is true. We have a policy that we all must agree on the big things. However, we are separated by 8 time zones. There is a rare hour every few days (sometimes it’s weeks) when all three of us are awake and not occupied with caring for family members. We have a private group chat thing where we each toss ideas and questions and such into the pot when we’re doing things. When the others get to it, they add their two cents. Usually, there are two of us active at a time, and then we wait for the third to stop by for approval. Often, the third has a question or argument that then needs to be addressed, but the first or second one isn’t available. More admins would only be a good thing if we were all in the same time zone. But we’re not. We are an international group, which I believe is a good thing, but the downside is that it slows us down. Sometimes, being slow is a good thing, too. Generally, at least one of is calm and level-headed at any given time. It shifts on who that one is, but they keep us from doing anything rash.

The whole problem is that no one feels like they can tell you when there’s a problem

I’ve heard this so many times, now, but I haven’t responded to it publicly, so here goes. 

Most of you don’t know what I’m like in person, but I’m built like a linebacker. I’m tall, I’m heavy, and I have wide shoulders. I have literally scared small children. Take Jared Padalecki, add another Jared Padalecki on the side, and then take away all the pretty, and you come close to what I’m like when you see me walking down the street. 

I don’t want to be a scary person that anyone is afraid to approach. My goal in life is to be kind and fair. I will give you second and third chances, because I know how awful it feels to be written off. 

My ask box is always open. My chat windows are always open. My email address is mrswhozeewhatsis@gmail.com. I’m the same on discord and skype. I don’t care if you think your thing is stupid, if it’s something that’s bothering you, and I can help, then I want to help. I can’t always help, but I always want the opportunity to try.

If I have ever done anything that made you feel like I didn’t care, then I give you permission to tell me. I’ll hate hearing it, but I need to hear it. 

If I have forgotten to follow up on something for you, PLEASE REMIND ME. Holy, cow, I have a TERRIBLE memory. It’s really bad. I have tricks and stuff that I do to try to make sure I don’t lose track of things, but it still happens. Please, come back to me and remind me that I promised you something. I guarantee that I will not be mad or upset. I will be glad, because you’re helping me to be the person I want to be.

I think that’s about it. The Pond is still on hiatus, indefinitely. We have a lot of things we’re talking about for if/when we come back, and some of them are really exciting to me. I hope we come back. I hope we can make the Pond what we always meant it to be. We’ll need help, and constant feedback from our fishy family, but I still have hope.

[everydarkshroudhasasilverlining]

I know not everyone is huge into rules, but they make things go more smoothly and help out to make things better for everyone. So here's a list of things to expect, not really rule, rules... But close enough.

I am an Indie RP blog, which means I don't belong to a specific group. I never have and I probably never will because that's just not my jive. I do RP with a specific person quite often but that doesn't mean I'm exclusive, I just happen to know this person personally and so I RP with them often.

If you ask me, I can tag things with a trigger warning. This doesn't bother me at all but I will not know to tag this unless you ask me to. I'm not going to go snooping for anything and I'm not a mind reader, so it's your responsibility to let me know to tag something. You're welcome to go through my tags list and block whatever may bother you. However, if something bothers you and it's not there, let me know so I can tag it in the future. If I forget to tag something (which I'll do my best not to, but it happens when you're human) then just remind me. I'll do my best to avoid this happening, however.

If you need to talk, go ahead and message me. I use combinations of my own experiences with scientific evidence and understanding to cater my responses to your situation. I will be honest, however. I don't want to lie to you, so I'm going to do my best to not do that. I try to provide a neutral voice, affirm what you're feeling, and give the most mature advice I can. I do not always have the answer but I'm excellent at listening, at least.

This is my only warning, my blog may have NSFW themes. Sex, cursing, death, and other dark themes. I tend to not shy away from the cruelties of reality, no matter how much I (or others) abhorr them. There is no way to stop the horrors of life... but we can take action and open up conversations and outlets of thinking so we can better understand and combat these terrible atrocities. I enjoy making myself think and question things and then going further and wondering WHY.

However, I am also mentally ill, live in the middle of nowhere, and have a life offline... so sometimes even the things I'm causing myself to question I have to take a step back from due to PTSD. I am still willing to discuss them, but I would need a small break so as to not cause myself mental and emotional pain. This is how I process and understand things. I will pick up the thread when I feel I am mentally able to and I will let you know that it's on pause because I do NOT just drop threads randomly. If you have this problem as well (or even if you want to actually drop the thread or just skip ahead) let me know and I will gladly do what I can. I'm not here to cause pain and distress. If the topic I'm RPing with you is pushing too far, let me know and we can stop that (and probably never do it again unless you request it).

Again, I will not randomly drop threads without discussing with you first. Not unless we personally come across an issue and you and I are no longer communicating. In which case, I will drop them in an effort to leave you be. I do not go out of my way to ask others why they dropped threads, either. I just ask that if you're going to drop it, let me know so I can remove it from my tracker. You don't have to give me a reason why, just let me know and I'll do it.

My replies MAY be incredibly slow. I live in the middle of nowhere so most of the time my internet doesn't work or only partially works. I'm mentally ill and have life outside of the internet. Sometimes I'm just slow to respond. I am not ignoring you, I promise. If I don't want to talk to you, I'll generally say I don't want to talk right now. Otherwise, assume something on my end is messing up so I cannot currently respond... or I'm sleeping or away from the computer.

I am not interested in anything more than platonic friendships with others. I am in a relationship and, honestly, am not really a people person... I'm a loner who lives on 12 acres and would rather go for a walk with my dogs or build toys for my rats than go to the mall. I'm not good with communication, though I try my best. I have no interest in flirting and it actually makes me incredibly uncomfortable, so I would prefer if you just didn't. I am friendly on a platonic level and nothing more. I may RP sexual themes, but other than my lover, I am not sexually interested in anyone. I'm very much grey-ace/demisexual... Meaning I have to build an attachment in the first place and, even then, I'm not generally interested in sex. I would appreciate if you respected that.

I do not generally have icons or gifs that are directly related to the character, but if I find one I may use it. Otherwise, I am an artist and so I may draw and/or doodle here and there. You are not required to do any of this, however. Please do not feel obligated to do anything for me. I owe you nothing and you owe me nothing. You are your own person, just as I am my own.

I am an AU/Crossover/OC friendly blog. For OCs or Crossovers into other fandoms I ask that you please toss me some information, however. There is the high chance that I will have no idea what you're talking about, even if I'm in the fandom, because my memory is not the best, I do not go snooping on other people's pages, and it's just nice to have something to work with. Plus, I may not even know the fandom. Regardless, I'll still work with you because I do enjoy challenges and learning.

If I reblog a meme or starter post, feel free to reblog and/or send me some. I don't mind either way, but I do enjoy getting inbox things so feel free to ask away, even if it doesn't have to do with a meme or starter post.

If you want to do a lot of threads with me? Same or different muses? Feel free! I'm really laid back and chill so it's no problem with me.

My muse is usually a top, though can switch depending. Preference for those who identify as male but swings any which way. He's generally Alpha in ABO universes. I will write sexual but if you don't want to then let me know and we can skip those scenes or even just do platonic RP. I am not picky and will not judge for this.

My Mike is usually the kind of guy with a big heart and a secret dark side that he's ashamed of and tries to hide. He wants to help everyone else be better than he thinks he is. He doesn't think highly of himself but works hard to do the right thing, despite being able to be swayed to do the wrong thing. I do this so I have a complicated character to work with who has realistic problems and not always the correct response. There are topics I can (probably even will) cover that I do NOT agree with or am even uncomfortable with myself because it helps me to process and understand things better when I can think of alternative trains of thought and get inside another's head.

I am mentally ill, sometimes I fall behind... Please be patient. I'm not going to bite and I do my best to talk professionally. If our RP touches on a topic that upsets either of us, it is your responsibility to let me know that you'd like to pause, skip, drop, or change the topic, and it is my responsibility to do the same for you. I will not judge you for this. I can only handle some topics at certain times too, so it's nothing personal. There are some topics that I can never handle when they hit a certain point, even (usually victim-blaming/gas-lighting children who are being abused, I cannot go in depth on this topic) because I suffer from PTSD from childhood trauma. There are topics that some people simply cannot do and that's okay. So if I'm RPing with you, and there's a topic you don't want, let me know so we can avoid it. I'm not here to cause undue distress. However, if I'm RPing a topic with someone else that makes you uncomfortable or you cannot do? Just let me know to tag it so you can block the tag. Nothing personal, no issues.

I generally do not move asks to a new thread because I am lazy and often forget how to do that. I write things down and use programs to help me keep track of things. However, if you want to move it, feel free. Just tag me so I can track it. If I don't see your tag, feel free to DM me to let me know to go look for it.

Personal blogs feel free to follow me but don't expect a follow back all of the time. Let me know the sid blogthat you RP with and I'll follow you there. This is NOT my main blog. My main blog is a Michael/Tall Goth RP blog that is much darker in topic, so do not feel like you have to follow that back.

If there is anything you have a problem with let me know. If you don't want to RP with me, that's okay! I'm not going to stalk you or demand an explanation. It's not my place and I don't have the time or energy to do that kind of thing. If you want to drop RPing with me completely, let me know and I'll remove the RPs from my tracker and leave you alone. You have every right to choose to not interact with me and that's okay. Even if you just want time, that's okay too. Unless we have a personal dispute, chances are that, even if you ask me to drop you, I won't block you so you're welcome to come back whenever you want to. No questions asked. You owe me NO explanation. Even if I ask you if it's okay if I ask why? Feel free to tell me no and that you don't want to explain, that's okay! You don't owe me anything and it's okay if you don't want to interact.

If you want to RP but something is bothering you? Whether it's a topic or a real life issue or my attitude... It's okay. Let me know. If you know we're just going to argue on a topic but you want to talk about other things, just ask me to never bring up that topic and I will do that for you. I can avoid topics to avoid disputes that way we can talk about other things. It doesn't bother me to do that. If you want me to tag that topic? I can do that too, so you don't have to see my talks about that with other people, either. I have no problem with that.

However, if you want to argue, are looking for an argument, or want to try to tell me how horrible I am because of xyz reason? I'm going to ignore you. I may even block you. It's nothing personal but I do not have the energy to do that. I am literally sick enough that if I get too stressed I pass out. I don't have the time or energy to waste on arguing that when I could go do something else. I do my best to study before I speak. I take facts and studies from trained professionals. I educate myself and separate reality from fiction. I have no interest in arguing over arbitrary things and I know who and what I am. I do no harm. I go out of my way to bend backwards to compromise. I will not stand there and be told I'm a horrible person with falsehoods because I know it's not true and I could spend that time going outside and working on the garden. So I won't. End of story.

In real life, I don't really do a lot. I live in the middle of nowhere with my partner and my animals. I spend my time taking care of my animals and making art because I'm not a people person. I have a lot of late-night deep debates with my partner that makes me really think and question things in order to challenge myself. I love science and studying. I don't generally interact with people in real life because I don't like people and it causes me stress. I'm not a super sexual person. I'm angry about the world's issues but not violent. I prefer to just chill and learn and ask questions. I want to challenge myself to think about things that make me assess situations from multiple sides and understand WHY someone does something. I want reality, no matter how cruel, so I can better learn how to help prevent that. It's just what I do.

I have no interest in arguing. Too much effort and no reward. If you want to hate me? Go ahead. I don't care the reason, just do it on your own time. Don't waste my time with it because I don't care. My caring goes as far as, this makes you uncomfortable? Okay, let me know and I'll tag it. Then you can block the tag and we can be done with it. It's your job to let me know. My job to make the tag. Your job to avoid the tag.

I'm not here to fight. I'm here o open up discussions within myself and challenge myself. My morals lay at how my rights end where yours begin and vice versa. I will not seek you out to cause harm. If you seek me out and cause yourself harm? That's on you. You did that to yourself. I am not forcing you to look up tags that upset you and read them. You did that to yourself. I put the tags there so you had the option to opt out.

Anyway, I feel like this is long enough. So there are my rules/explanation for my blog. If you need anything to talk abou, DM me and we'll figure out if I need to add anything. I'm nt actually an asshole, I just suck at communication and am not going to argue with every aggressive person online because I could use that time being productive.

[elounorfluff-blog]

When You’re Lost, I’ll Lead You Back Home

A/N: Ok I was trying to write a heart wrenching one shot adorable Elounor fluff, so I don’t know where the hell this even came from, but there is fluff in it somewhere (At the end mostly. So I apologize in advance if your heart breaks a little). Also, both the title and the quote/caption at the end are from the acoustic version of “Lighthouse” by Hearts and Colors. 

Trigger warning for descriptions of depression and slight mention of self-harm.

ANYWAY. 

Eleanor waited in the pharmacy line impatiently. She hated being here. Confidentiality be damned, if anyone heard her say her name and recognized it, no doubt they would listen just a little too carefully to see if they could hear the name of her medication. Perhaps she was just being paranoid, but she didn’t like giving people new reasons to antagonize her.

            “Next”, the technician at the counter called her forward.

            “Hi, I’m here to pick up Prozac?” She said the name of the antidepressant as if she were picking a real drug deal.

            “Okay, first and last name?”

            She swallowed thickly, “Eleanor Calder.”

The tech punched it into his computer and returned with a bag containing her bottle of pills. “That will be €12.00, Ms. Calder.” El swiped her credit card shakily before grabbing her receipt, stuffing it all into her purse and returning to her car where she locked the doors and recomposed herself. What was so scary about some pills? She had been on them once before and it had helped.

She pushed her thoughts aside and drove home, heels clicking as she opened the front door to Bruce jumping up on her and barking. “Oh shush you, I’ve only been gone for an hour!” Maybe if Louis had been here to entertain the dogs, but he was always gone at something. Sometimes he didn’t get home until one in the morning, and she would have a brief recollection the next morning of hearing the shower on, and then callused fingers gently moving her fingers off the pillow she was snuggling against in her sleep so he could crawl in next to her.

Eleanor hated the pills but she hated the numbness even more. Sad wasn’t even a good word for it. It was like someone had turned down the volume on her life or reduced her from a blazing fire to the fragile candlelight of a single wick. Sometimes she wanted her fire back so much that she let every awful emotion in her take over, entertained horrible thoughts.

Like how Louis had left her for a year and a half without barely a word, except to tell her he knocked someone up exactly two months after they broke up. Or how people didn’t stop the hate then like she thought they would. Her Instagram comments usually had very little to do with her, even months later. She wasn’t stupid enough to leave commenting enabled this time around. The only twitter account she used now was locked and unverified. She was getting worked up over this particular problem when Louis had the misfortune of coming home early.

“El? You home?”

She was laying on the couch with Bruce, simmering with frustration about hundreds of pointless situations. “Yeah.”

“You alright? You forgot to feed the dogs again, Love,” He said to her from the entryway as he took his jacket off.

“Well sorry if I don’t remember everything!” She said rolling her eyes.

“Whoa, chill out. I’m just trying to make sure the dogs survive.” He said it lightly, trying to joke with her.

She didn’t care. “What do you think the dogs are going to fucking do? If Clifford is anything like his owner, he’ll just go find somebody who gives him all the food he wants, maybe knock up some bitch without even realizing it, and then he’ll come back a year or two later when he realizes just what it was he gave up.” She shots at him without even bothering to see his reaction.

“Fuck it. I’m not doing this again. What is with you just being straight up… I don’t even know…mean? It’s like you’re fine and then one day you have to remind me of every single thing I ever fucked up in our relationship.” He sat on the couch across from her.

“Well, it’s a long list. And if you want kindness in the girlfriend contract,” She began sarcastically, “Tell them I want a yacht and a boyfriend who comes home before two in the morning.”

Louis just shook his head. “You want a fight from me? Fine. You knew what you were getting into when we started dating. You didn’t have to come back.”

“Right, because you weren’t begging me to?” Eleanor feels guilt in the very back of her mind tugging at her to stop.

“Is it such an awful thing that I wanted you back?”

“Depends on the day.” She said to the ceiling.

“Screw this, you are fucking impossible, I have more important things to do than argue about this.”

Eleanor was enraged now. “Is there ever going to be a day when there isn’t something more important than me in your life?” She stands up as she speaks and throws her empty mug of tea across the room, where it shatters against a wall. “I hate you right now”, and with those words, she grabs her blanket and runs up the staircase to the bedroom slamming the door.

******

Louis rested his hands on the counter and shakes his head in confusion. That’s when he saw the familiar tiny bottle. He picked it up to confirm his suspicions, and it’s exactly the medication he assumed it to be. Shit. He remembers Eleanor now, how tuned out of everything she has been, how he was the one who encouraged her to at least see her doctor a week or two ago. The seal on the bottle is still there, meaning she hadn’t actually taken any yet either.

His brain floods with images from the last time she had needed the meds. He remembers with searing detail that night in late 2014 when he came home from the tour to his Mum’s house, where Eleanor had been staying for the week. Lottie caught him at the door.

“Something’s wrong with Eleanor, Lou.”

“What do you mean something is wrong...is she sick?” Louis had demanded at the time.

Lottie looked at the ground, “Not the kind of sick you’re thinking of. I think it’s all the things people have been saying lately. It’s gotten worse. People are all over us lately.”

“Us? What do you mean?” He asked with eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“It’s not just El, Louis. They are everywhere, saying your relationship was never real. All of my social media accounts, Fizz has a twitter inbox filled with DMs just pertaining to that subject, even the comments on Daisy and Phoebes’ Instagrams.” She said solemnly. 

Louis hugged his sister tight. “Thank God you and Fizz don’t subscribe to any of that shit. You always stood up for me Lots. Swipe the twins phones and put filters on their comments if you can.”

“Got it. And we always have Mum here too. I think she’s with El right now actually.” 

“Where is she?” Louis had found her laying on the couch staring off into nothingness. He had bent down and spoke to her quietly about how a doctor was going to come see her, explained that she had to eat something, and told her how much he loved her. Later that night, he went to the guest room to check on her and found five exhausted girls asleep in one queen sized bed. Eleanor was sandwiched between Lottie and Phoebe, who laid next to Daisy, curled up against Felicity. He realized every single one of these girls had dealt with something because of his fame and his heart broke a little as he closed the door.

He had gotten through it, though. She had been put on antidepressants, fed an endless amount of food by his mother, gone out with Lottie, watched movies with the twins, and held in his arms every night until it slowly but surely got better. He had cried with her in the middle of the night when he had caught her without a sweatshirt on and seen the remains of a jagged inch and a half long cut on her left arm, that was nearly healed by then.

He never wanted her to feel like that again, and he had tried so hard to protect her. He should have realized sooner. Eleanor was never angry. She only used anger as a bodyguard for sorrow. All at once Louis came to his senses and ran to their bedroom where he was met with a locked door.

“El?” He knocked on the door. “El, just let me in.”

“Fucking leave me alone”, she shouted meekly at him.

He sighed and leaned on the door frame before reaching up to grab the hex key that opened the door in case of emergency. He popped the lock open and found Eleanor in a sports bra, laying on her back on their bed staring at the ceiling, hugging a pillow to her chest.

“You’re not very good at listening, you know that?” She remarked without looking at him. He laid down next to her, watching her face, devoid of animation as she searched the endless expanse of white ceiling above her.

“That’s true. Sometimes I’m a shit listener. But I don’t think that’s the problem here. If I’m going to listen, you’re going to have to talk." He dared to touch her then, pressing his fingers against the almost invisible scar on her left arm. She turned toward him then and he silently took her pillow and placed his other hand on her face. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, hinting at tears.

“Why do you put up with me?” Louis’ smiled sadly as her façade finally faded away.

“That one is easy,” he brushed her hair back behind her ear, “You put up with me, so we’re even.”

“I’m so sorry Lou.” She whispered through tears.

Louis shushed her then and sat up leaning against their bed plush headboard, gathering El into his arms, noticing just how light she was, realizing how little he had actually seen her eat lately. She had broken into sobs. He saw her phone laying on the bed, presumably from earlier, opened to Instagram. He knew exactly what she had been doing. Scrolling through comments on her older photos, where people still came back to verbally torture her since she had disabled commenting on her newer photos. Hatred strung through the vomit of text, asking her how much she was paid to show up and look pretty, how she was ruining Louis’ life, that she was ugly and things far worse. “It’s okay, Love. Screw them. All that matters is that I love you.” He held her tight against his chest and let her cry.

“I’m so fucking done, Lou. What’s going to happen if we get married, or I get pregnant? You know I’m not Brianna’s biggest fan, but there’s a whole group of people who say her baby isn’t even real. That your child isn’t real.” Her frustration and fears poured out now.

“I know, and I hate it just as much, but what can I do? El, they find a way to twist everything around. If I barely touch you, they say you’re some contracted girlfriend, and if I talk about you and hold you close, they say I’m clearly trying to put on a good show. We could make a fucking sex tape, and they would say management made us do it.” He smiled a bit at her.

She smiled for a moment too, before shrinking back into herself, whispering again. “I hate those stupid pills. It makes me feel like I can’t handle my own life.” His hands enclosed hers, warming up her cold fingers.

“Love, you didn’t choose to be this way any more than Mum chose her cancer. There is nothing to be ashamed of about taking pills to help any part of you that’s gotten a little mixed up or broken along the way. I’m sorry that being in a relationship with me comes with so much pain.” He pushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear then.

Eleanor went silent for a moment, “No. It’s not the relationship. I could be living the high life with the money and the fame. I could brush off every stupid comment easily if all I was doing was wearing the label of Louis Tomlinson’s girlfriend.” She wiped the tears away with her with her wrist. Louis looked confused.

“It’s when you come home from somewhere late at night and kiss me while I’m half asleep until my lips are swollen. It’s when I wake up from nightmares and you pull me against you until my heart rate slows down. It’s when you call and check up on me and kiss my neck and make sure I’m okay in the middle of sex. Being in a relationship was never the painful part, Lou, it was loving you that had consequences.”

Louis didn’t know how to respond. He pondered over her statement. “So you’re saying life would be- “, he swallowed thickly, “Life would be easier if you didn’t love me?”

E tilted her head back. “Hell yeah it would be easier”, She hesitated then looking at him again, “but I would take you over an easy life any day. I would have never come back if I thought I could live without you. Fuck, I need you. Don’t leave me.” She didn’t care one bit how that made her sound as she buried her head in his neck. Louis kissed her temple.

“Hey, look at me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah?” Eleanor held his gaze.

“Yeah.” And just like that, she was kissing him, both crying gently. She didn’t care. Louis kissed her through the tears. She finally pulled away to breathe, inhaling the familiar scent of cologne and cigarettes. Right here in this moment, she felt safe.

“You are freezing, Love”, Louis commented as he combed his fingers through her hair gently, “Here, you go and get a jumper and I’m going to get you some water and Tylenol, and I don’t want any complaints about it, deal?”

El nodded as they separated and Louis left the room. She changed into warmer leggings than the thin joggers she had on. Designer clothes were cute, but often very impractical. She stepped over the mess of their walk-in closet, searching through her endless high-end sweaters, nothing really looking comfortable as she looked further back into her older things. She laughed as she pulled her selection off its hanger, the sweatshirt was ridiculous, and she had no idea how it had survived. It had been an exclusive white hoodie from the Take Me Home tour that had “Live while we’re young” written on the front in a graffiti font and the tour name much smaller at the bottom. The back was supposed to have all the boys’ last names down the back, but being a girlfriend meant she had somehow scored one that just said, Tomlinson. When she had jokingly asked Louis to sign it, he wrote both of their names above his last name. She smiled, pulling on the heavy, real sweatshirt material.

Louis was equally amused as he returned to the room with water and saltines, laughing at the memory as he walked back to their bed. “Where did you find that?” He took her hand to help her up onto the bed and grabbed his phone. “Here, pull your hair to the side, I really need a picture of the back of that.” El groaned.

“Saltines now, photo op later.” Louis complied with her demands, letting her binge on crackers and water while he told her mindless ramblings about the day. Eventually, her eyelids grew heavy and she curled up against him, using his chest as a pillow, her head tucked to the side under his chin. He combed her hair off to the side and kissed the top of her head. Bruce and Clifford examined the scene and jumped on the bed, Bruce laying down next to Louis so he could check on his girl. Clifford curled up near the top and off to the side, just barely resting his head near the two of them. Louis glanced around at his little family and took out his phone. Holding it up in selfie mode, he managed to get him and the back of Eleanor’s shirt, hinting at her face as she was tucked tightly against him, and both dogs just barely fit into the sides of the photo.

He pulled a blanket up over them as he did something he hadn’t in a while. He pulled up Instagram and found the photo he had just taken. Nothing he could post would prevent the world from analyzing his life, but he decided that wasn’t going to stop him from posting about his girlfriend. He clicked next and thought for a moment before captioning the photo.

Follow me when it’s dark out. I will be, I will be your lighthouse.

Louis hit post and pulled his girlfriend tight, turning to his side, while she subconsciously wrapped her arms around him from behind and he grabbed her hand, closing his eyes as he silently vowed to himself that he would never let her go.