#long as it isnt causing harm to any of the characters

[eddiewithcat]

going to be so brutally honest here for a second because jesus you guys are really getting on my nerves…

ship wars are stupid. ship wars are dumb.

this whole bucktommy vs buddie thing is pointless.

you are hurting yourselves, and others, if you are constantly wishing on the downfall of someone else’s ship just because you personally do not agree with it.

guess what? the beautiful thing about television is that you can interpret it however the fuck you want!

if you don’t like bucktommy- ignore the posts! get out of the hashtag! block people if you must!

if you don’t like buddie- same fucking thing!

this is getting out of hand and it is making people not feel comfortable voicing their opinions any longer (i, being one of them).

just ship whatever the hell you want and leave the others out of it! we are all just here to have fun, make fun little theories or headcanons or fanfics or fanart etc etc

stop making this unenjoyable for all of us. thanks.

[edlucavalden]

Im too exausted for proper(ish) essays, but im so crazy over this scene. i can't contain myself

TW for: S/A !!! (For the nature of the writing and well—the scene itself)

He's confused at first. he doesn't know what is going on. This slight pause isn't because he's scared or frozen but to assess the situation. After all It was kinda sudden.

All he doesn't like this feeling. he feels uncomfortable and that some sort of boundry has been breached. But he hasn't fully processed it yet.

And right before he fully comprehends and does something about it—

He suddenly becomes compliant?

It's like he forgot what he was gonna do—like He loses the motivation to enforce his boundaries.

he still feels uncomfortable. that doesn't change. But he isnt aware of that. Well, that makes sense... since he never really did fully process what was happening. It's like he lost the will to care about or process it.

This panel. Christ... Thistle finally builds up the power to say stop. It's weak—confused and disoriented. I dont think it's even directed to anything specifically. Its intentions are vague.

But god... and the lion's response? Reassurance. how he can't help it, he needs this to live, he's been waiting for so long—oh, and don't worry, I'll take care of you.

It's just so chilling after this.

Thistle's powerless, weak, and complaicent. It's out of character for thistle. This entire scene is. However It's still thistle. His behavior and actions are his own, and for me that's the terrifying part.

This wasn't... Forced? There's no fighting and thrashing— Its just a complete submission. he reacted yeah but he didn't resist. he didn't fight back even if he had the ability to (we know bc he has, for 1000 years in fact). The lion didn't directly force him either. It didn't violently force him to have its way. But it's still violating. And that's the thing; the assult wasnt violent, but passive.

Hi guys just to reiterate that I did NOT mean to say that sexual cohesion is not an act of force. this part is ment reiterate that it "wasn't forced" in the sterotypical way of resisting, i followed it up by saying that it is still violating despite that. it is ment to emphasize the passive yet transgressive nature of cohesion. i SINCERELY apologize if that was the message that was interpreted from that part. I did not intend it to mean that way.

The demon has slowly but surely torn down thistle's sense of self so much it turned him into a completely different person. Like his identity was shattered and rebuilt to submit.

It starts small, building up the situation, taking away his desire to resist and enforce his boundaries, then it gives a rose tinted explanation of what is happening. Finally, it comforts and praises him. This is what gives thistle the illusion of choice, a passive way of getting him vulnerable.

You can see how it affected him vividly through this part. it's like he forgets what he was fighting for. He forgets his boundaries, his identity, the things he cares about, everything. It's being ripped away from him.

Thistle never stood a chance.

It wasn't his fault he submitted. It was the demon's for putting him in that state. His complaicency is due to the fact that he had no power for any other way.

it never mattered that thistle never fought back. Even if he did fight back or didn't, even if he succeeded or not—what then? it would never change the demon's nature. One who seeks consumption will always consume. In other words; it will always find a way.

I honestly dont think it was the demon's intention to harm thistle. It's selfish but not moralisticly evil (nothing ever is). It seeks fulfillment and not suffering. But its blind pursuit for satisfaction caused suffering, That's what makes it malicious. It doesn't matter if he intented or was aware of it or not. the demon benefited from something that could harm him and did it despite that. And that will never change.

[python333]

Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!

I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.

If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!

If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

self-slaughter — python333

— — — —

synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 6.6k

warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!

It gets kind of old after so long of doing it. 

Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight. 

Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts. 

And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either. 

Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago. 

The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important. 

However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment. 

All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder. 

The scalpel looks so tempting.

It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off. 

Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves? 

Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep. 

It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool. 

You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now. 

It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it—three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true. 

You’re still staring at the scalpel. 

Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting. 

You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife. 

You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself. 

It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations. 

You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough. 

About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it. 

The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind. 

Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about. 

The fists your hands have formed become tighter. 

Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring. 

Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel. 

You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin. 

Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain. 

You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.

Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself. 

You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger. 

With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed. 

Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.

Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun. 

Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar. 

The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred. 

So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go. 

You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.

You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.

All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.

Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.

You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area. 

You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart. 

In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it. 

There’s a knock. Then another. 

The door handle twists. 

You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second. 

The door opens. 

“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?” 

He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip. 

“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.” 

“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried. 

“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.” 

“... Ye sure?” 

“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.” 

“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?” 

“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.” 

It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.” 

You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”

You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.” 

“Ye whit?” 

“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—” 

“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.” 

You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.” 

“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die. 

You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally. 

“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions. 

“No.” 

“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?” 

You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others. 

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?” 

You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred. 

“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap’s gaze soften.

He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters. 

You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive. 

You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.

When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s. 

The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far. 

Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word. 

“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?” 

“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest. 

Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.” 

You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself. 

You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.

Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well. 

Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.

“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.” 

“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.

With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads. 

“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence. 

“Soap didn’t fill you in?”

“No.”

You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention? 

Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?

“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].” 

He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.

You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled. 

Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings. 

But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no. 

Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit. 

“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.” 

Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.” 

“I never said it couldn’t be.”

He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk. 

You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—” 

“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.” 

“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.” 

“But I—” 

“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks. 

You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you. 

Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.

It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left. 

Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit. 

You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more. 

Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?” 

You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it. 

Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms. 

Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again. 

“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.” 

You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you. 

Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.

“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.

As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself. 

Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better. 

"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click. 

He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier. 

“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters. 

You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly. 

You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin. 

His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure. 

Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once. 

Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.

Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it. 

Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort. 

They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did. 

They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more. 

Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned. 

“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” 

You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either. 

Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?” 

“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”

You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.” 

“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.” 

He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?” 

“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin. 

“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question. 

��…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.” 

“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?” 

You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either. 

“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.” 

“Us ‘four’ being… ?” 

“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.” 

“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally. 

Your words affect them more than you thought they would. 

Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince. 

It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?” 

You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you. 

“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.” 

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.” 

“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.” 

“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz. 

Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price. 

“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably. 

“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did. 

And then, it was just you and Price.

It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.

“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple. 

“Does that surprise you?” 

“A little bit, yeah.” 

You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.” 

“Wanna give me some more detail than that?” 

“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.” 

“I do.” 

“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—” 

“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.” 

“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.” 

“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.” 

You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.” 

“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.” 

“But you just said that I was strong.” 

“I did.” 

“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks. 

“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.” 

“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.” 

You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up. 

“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.” 

“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.” 

“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.

Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."

He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."

for those curious, the bthb card so far:

[lookingforhappy]

TUA wasn't "always meant to end like this" nor did it build up to a tragic everybody dies ending in any way

sorry this is long and rambly but im noticing a lot of people coming out of the woodworks saying that the ending wasnt even bad actually and i just.. its not a redeemable ending to me and yes it does ruin the rest of the show for me and i wish i had the strength to make it not so but im stuck rn.. anyway:

i don't think i can forgive the ending, more than anything that happened in the final season

they had interesting character points, in an interesting setting.

and yeah they didnt tie up anything, and several people were out of character this season but thats nothing new in this fandom

eudora was forgotten, diego and luthers personalities didnt develop they were altered to be more palatable for the audience, grace and pogo became cameo characters instead of finishing their arcs or development in a meaningful way, reginalds plan has made less and less sense as the seasons go on, the commission was entirely changed from its set up in s1 and then forgotten.

thats all forgivable as long as the season is self contained and satisfys the tone and story.

s4 did none of these things - its not self contained as it leaves jennifer and abigail severely underexplained, and then flips the tone and message of the entire series on its head.

people have already noted that the theme of the show is that recovery from abuse haunts you into adulthood but with love and hard work and perserverance you can overcome it. the apocalypse has always been a metaphor for the cycle of abuse and how it continues to harm people after its been done, and how allowing it to dictate your life will end up in it imploding in your face etc.

but theres also just the general tone of the show.

the final season tries to make out that the siblings are themselves responsible for the apocalypses and only their death can prevent more apocalypses (twisting the meaning to be that of "if you have trauma then you should kill yourself" which like.. clearly bad, no explanation needed)

but to pull through on this ending the previous seasons need to have ended in tragedy too, or hinted towards it tonally. they never do.

the obvious way to do this would be to write each season ending/apocalypse to be sad/tragic. have the focus be on the people dying horribly in pain, show the remorse of the siblings, punish them by making it personal, show that they killed everyone and they know it.

the only season that even slightly does this is s1 as patch is killed because of diego, pogo and grace are killed because of luther and viktor, and the rest of the supporting cast is killed due to viktor.

but even season 1 isnt framed as a tragedy or a story leading up tot a tragedy.

its a story of hope. the siblings arent upset by the apocalypse because they can survive and prevent it and theres hope for the future and more specifically for THEIR future. nothing else remains from this timeline other than them because the whole show is centred as their recovery story. their hope.

if this was ever going to be presented as a hopeless tragedy then we needed to see characters like claire killed brutally. we needed to actually see Grace's lifeless body. we needed to see the consequences and see that nothing they did was fixing anything by having these consequences follow them and not just in a "this happened and im sad" but in everyone around them and them becoming worse as time goes by.

if they wanted the whole "we cant exist" ending to work then we needed to frame s1 and all subsequent seasons to actually show that it was their actions that caused the apocalypses.

viktor causes the first apocalypse because of reginald's abuse.

the US government causes the second apocalypse because they tortured an innocent to the brink of death and then got upset and aggressive when that had consequences (viktors powers overspilling and destroying the fbi building). like sorry that apocalypse was never viktors fault - its like false confession under torture, it doesnt count as real because he only did it to make torture stop.

the 3rd apocalypse is caused by Harlan accidentally killing their mothers, which again is not even his fault. he didnt want to kill them he just lost control and he had no idea that it would end the world (logically it shouldnt because this apocalypse defies the laws of time that they themselves established for the show).

the final apocalypse isnt even caused by them its caused by abigail and reginald. as are, technically, all of the apocalypses as abigail created the marigold and reginald released it and created the broken timeline by allowing it to travel with him to the umbrellas world.

in s2 the apocalypse has no consequences because they prevent it. ray and sissy and harlan get to live. klaus' cult memeber get to live. they even punctuate this ending by showing that theyre moving on and progressing in their healing because ben is finally allowed to move on with his afterlife, and he is no longer kept there, stalling their recovery from his death. even five's integration into the family again in s1 showed growth and recovery and HOPE.

in s3 the world is saved, and luther is brought back to life and five and diegos limbs are returned. everyone who was erased/died like lilas family and reginald are brought back to life because there is HOPE.

if they wanted to sell a tragedy and sell it well then we needed to see consequences. allison should have died in s1. five should have given up and returned to the commission in s2. luther should have stayed dead in s3. their families should have died and caused them pain.

nothing about this ending followed through on the theme of hope.

there are ways to do it. and its been done well.

romeo and juliet works because they are remembered. star wars prequels are loved because its a doomed from the beginning story that ends with hope in the form of luke saving his fathers soul and returning the jedi to their true state - protectors and peace keepers. frodo and bilbo return from their journeys ill and grieving and forever changed, and they and the magic beings of middle earth have to pass on before their time because of the harm of their stories. macbeth dies in the end because his story was one of a hero becoming a villain.

theres so many good examples of tragic endings but s4 wasnt one of them.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for how i played DnD?

I will try to keep this short but give enough info. At the time of the incident this past year, I was 19. I had made a few friends at uni. Someone brought up Dungeons and Dragons and as a group we decided to try it. There were 5 people playing as characters, including me, and one Dungeon Master (DM). The DM is 24, and the other people ranged 19-22.

Maybe it is just who I played with before, but it had always been stressed to me to do actions my character would do. Follow the actions the character would follow. For example, I played in a campaign with someone who in real life is the sweetest, kindest person, but their character was very mean and vengeful. It was fun! They would want to heal someone, but knew it was out of character so decided to NOT do that, and it was realistic for the campaign.

THAT is how I was taught. That is how I've always played. So it comes time for the first session with the uni group. It was a one-shot to learn how to play for the two people who hadn't played before. It was stated that this was solely to learn mechanics, the characters we were would not be used for the actual campaign. Cool!

Well, in this one-shot I had a character who was very self centered. The type to put themselves over the health of the rest of the group. I had never played that before and wanted to try it. It came to a fight and I was wounded and so was another player. This player hadn't played before and chose to run away and abandon the group. I chose to do the same thing because it was in Character. However, I happened to have the one item that could have stopped the cult from taking over and essentially starting the apocalypse. Thus, because I ran, it doomed everyone else.

It didn't seem anyone minded at the time, it was to learn after all. The DM mentioned then that it is a shitty move to choose to run, and you should fight regardless of if you die. I thought that was a stupid thought, why fight a losing battle, but whatever.

We ran through our first campaign that was over a month long. We all died but had a lot of fun. I then turned 20 and had a flare up (I have a chronic illness), I told them they could do a campaign and I would join in once better. The DM didn't want that because I would be joining partway and ruin the integrity. So they decided to postpone.

I got better, all good. I was sick and hospitalized for a week, then a week after I recovered. So it was 2 weeks. We met weekly, so it was only 2 weeks that we were out. Prior to this time we all met on Mondays, but after this i would have to go to therapy on Mondays so DM decided to switch the days to Thursdays which everyone could also do.

We started a new campaign and me and another player decided our characters would be intertwined. They played a character who had been royal and after the usurpation of their throne, they were on the run. I played the loyal knight who would defend them til my death. We made it VERY evident that I would protect them til my death, with no hesitation, and would defend them from any action that could cause them harm.

A fight broke out in our party and the hothead started coming after the exroyal. In character, I put myself in between the two and verbally told them to stop or else I would make them stop. Hothead character escalated and pushed mine and then threw something at the exroyal. Of course, irl we all were laughing and having fun, except the DM. The DM was trying to get everyone back on course.

Now, I could have decided to ignore this and go towards the obvious direction the DM was trying to steer us. But my character would NEVER have let a slight like that occur. So I didnt. My goal was to simply slash at the hothead, but got a nat 20. The DM CHOSE that I killed the hothead. That isnt what I wanted but I went with it and had the great one line of "take this as a warning for the rest of you".

The person who played the hothead was dying of laughter and didn't seem upset, they had a second character ready. Well, at the end of the session the DM asked me to stay behind. They told me that I was a terrible player and that every session thus far, I played the character instead of doing things that would help the newbies. I was also apparently annoying and "you shouldn't turn against those in your party". I told the DM I'm sorry they felt that way, but in my mind it wasn't intentional to kill the dude I simply wanted to like give him a warning. The DM said I was teaching the others bad morale and cooperation, and brought up me running during the oneshot and how I doomed everyone else and it was shitty. I felt bad apologized and said I would think about what they said and then thanked them (that's the customer service representative in me lol).

Well the next week was the week prior to our break. I asked what time we were meeting and was told we weren't meeting this week by the DM. Okay that works. Well, turns out they DID meet. I found out after exroyal messaged me and asked if I felt better and what they can do for me. Apparently, DM told everyone I was having a flare up, when I wasnt. I am not a confrontational person, but I texted DM saying I didn't appreciate that they lied and DM replied saying that it was my fault for playing DND the way I did.

As a few of them messaged me individually, so I texted all the members individually and told them I was not sick and stated that DM had told me there wasn't a session.

Well, we decided to meet at my place and not tell DM. We didn't play DND but a board game. DM found out and started calling me an asshole and how they've been accommodating for me with my illness and the sessions, which they have. DM says they made one mistake and am punishing them for it. I have a lot of anxiety and do feel bad now... AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[yellowymellon]

I can see why some people don't want Sunday to join the SH because it might hurt him more or they simply don't like already established factions to have new characters, but some of the other arguments like joining the SH will destroy the character Sunday built in the main story just sounds like ppl putting him on a pedestal (some even start to hate HIM for this theory??) so I think this should be repeated :

Sunday didn’t build any character and that's the tragedy of his story. He tried to convince us of his side but didn’t hear much of ours, the AE was even impressed by his plan but instead of counter arguing with some solid arguments they went on the defense and most of all tried to honor the watchmaker's wish and will. The first time we debated with Sunday was a complete failure, he didn’t see our point and wasn’t convinced. The second time was when we fought, he told us that to prove that our ideal is better and that his is wrong we must defeat him. Notice how he isnt even trying to listen to our side? Sunday has been caged and brainwashed by the dreammaster to believe the order is right for a really long time that he doesn’t believe in any other salvation. He's hopeless, for him this is the only way out and cannot see anything else. When TB answers his question at the very end, he is taken aback, when he falls down he is motionless, in the new LC he despairs, only once he remembers Elio's deal that hope returns to him. Sunday didn’t learn anything, the confrontation was a failure, he didn’t stand up on his own nor did he come to any realization. Therefore joining the SH isnt going to 'destroy' his character. It might save him, depending on what Elio is truly like.

Secondly, I think we're all aware of the family's hypocrisy. We've seen it in like all the penacony quests, a lot of messed up underhanded things, heinous crimes that caused a lot of suffering, and who else sits at the top as the coordinator of all the families?  it's evident that he was aware of everything and chose to be a bystander, or simply didn’t have control over any situation despite being the oak's head.

 He never hesitated against aventurine once he deemed him evil, He was also implied to convey the order from the dreammaster to the executor of dewlight pavilion to eliminate his traitor family. That is to say, not only does he have a vague idea about what he's doing, not only is he disconnected from ppl but he has no control whatsoever to change anything. Im not saying he is evil, his beliefs were impacted so much that now he has a distorted sense of - most importantly - justice. He truly believes he's righteous, he's stubborn and narrow minded and it's hard keeping his emotions in control, thus can be perfectly manipulated by someone better at mind games, Elio. That is if he wants to.

Sunday is deeply compassionate and far too selfless but he won't hesitate against what he deems wrong, evil or unjust. Because he has to be the strong.

I mean SW is in the same morally ambiguous state as Sunday, both do not harm directly (supposedly) but are bystanders, firefly only kills the irredeemable evil and Sunday didn’t have any prejudice against her. Kafka is the most cruel and blade does what he's told. But if Sunday is made to believe what he's doing is right and shares the same position as firefly I think it works. It also depends on Elio, yes he can manipulate him and it's just the same fate as before but there's an off chance that Elio will genuinely help Sunday find his path. I mean even if he doesn't Elio doesn’t seem like he tricked anyone without fulfilling his end of the deal.

I trust that hoyo aren't screwing around. Sunday still has his harmony powers, not sure how elio will use the brain melt and the truth serum but maybe Sunday's near ascension grants him extra powers? Elio is aware that Sunday failed to turn to an aeon. Some say that Sunday might work as a diplomat but im not sure how it works.

Anyway we shall see more of this in 2.3 and hopefully 2.7! Tbh excited for the dynamics. I wish for Sunday to find his path as a person but as a character....Im a fan of tragedy Soo....yeh

[spacedlexi]

since you are THE TFS enthusiast, i was just kinda thinking of random contrasting parallels between Peaceful Guardian S1 Lee & Destructive Broken TFS Lilly They both stumbled upon Clementine, one in his own panic finding her at home while the other is calm and has a plan, finding Clem who is homeless (again lol) Lee doesn't teach Clem anything until he's given the advice while Lilly is prepared to teach Clem by whatever measures, harmful or not Lee never harms her friends (in this case, Duck) but Lilly isnt afraid to put harm on the Ericson's kids Lee dies by saving Clem and then asks her to let him die either way Lilly dies by fighting Clem and then begs AJ/Clem not to kill her

Clementine leaves Lee in a peaceful manner with a sweet goodbye while she is forced to leave Lilly and is bitter and pissed off

Lee is hesitant but then enjoys the teamwork and comradeship with Clem, contrasting to Lilly essentially laying down the law and claiming Clem as a possession rather than family

Idk I just had to get this off my chest to someone so I wanted to know if you have any thoughts!

i do think that dichotomy between lee and lilly intentionally exists in S4. lilly even uses lee to antagonize clem more than once

lee taught clem how to survive and stand on her own. lilly only ever knew clem as that sweet little girl and thinks she can break and mold her into a loyal soldier (like how she did to minnie. like her father seemed to have done to her. she Was air force pre-apocalypse). but S4 clem is old enough to reject what other people might want for her. she knows what she wants and she'll fight for it. and lee taught her that shes capable enough to do it

lilly is the only character who could throw off and unnerve a S4 clem on a core level (other than christa rip 💀). lilly is clems last connection to lee, and had relied on her at a time when she was young and extremely vulnerable. clem Still wearing the hair ties lilly gave her back in S1 shows just how long this connection has lasted

the dichotomy between lee and lilly is why i really enjoy lilly returning as the S4 villain. i actually think lillys characterization makes perfect sense in S4 even tho some people seem to disagree. the reason her and kenny butted heads so much is because they were ultimately very similar in their desire to have singular authority and "protect their own", and they werent afraid to do it in a "by any means necessary" style. lilly snapped after her dad died, and we all know what happened to kenny... lee always existed as the man caught between them, but ultimately rose as their "leader" as he was able to keep a level head and typically keep the group grounded. learning that they cut lilly feeling like a monster because she was relieved her horrible father was dead was actually so disappointing and wouldve added to her characterization in both S1 and 4. due to feeling horrible about being happy he was gone, she just doubled down instead and convinced herself she was wrong to feel that way, which causes her to repeat the cycle of abuse on others that he imparted on her. and S4 is all about breaking cycles. lilly (and minnie) being so caught up in their own are why they work so well as antagonists, and highlights clems struggle to break free from it all and build something new. something lee would be proud of (and he is So Proud 😭😭)

[quillkiller]

bellatrix pls xx

(ask game)

mwah thank u claude <3

favorite thing about them

i always tend to be the most compelled by oldest sibling-characters and that’s one of my favorite things about bellatrix aswell.. like her undying loyalty to family and especially her sisters, even if the loyalty is flawed and unhealthy, is very deeply special to me. i read a post lately about how bellatrix never used violence against her own family even if her family ended up using it against her. even after azkaban, after years of torture and dementors, she never layed a hand on. she always prioritized her family, despite it being in fucked up and harmful ways .. makes me Sick

least favorite thing about them

honestly maybe nothing ?? i think she’s one of the most interesting female characters in the hp series. she marries but never had children and ended up more powerful and demanding more respect than her husband ever did. she was voldys right hand man, despite being a woman .. she wasn’t heir to anything at all but becomes the most feared black family member of all ?? i think thats very interesting. i suppose i could be boring and say that my least favorite thing is that shes a ’death eater’ but that would be a lie :/

favorite line

"You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain - to enjoy it - righteous anger won't hurt me for long - I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson—” <- cunty

brotp

bella & sirius but in like a really fucked up way. in a sirius was bellas favorite cousin way and she hates him more than anything and sirius misses bella because he knew her before her name caused fear to whoever spoke it. they would play quidditch together and play fight and bella was his cool older cousin and sirius was the heir who looked up to her.. they absolutely excluded their other siblings during holiday festivites or whatever and teamed up. i Think

otp

quillkiller <3

notp

any ship with a man. bella is a lesbian to me 🤍

random hc

i think she’s kinda.. gross ? i dont think she brushes her teeth regularly and often gets knots in her hair because she doesnt like brushing it. she was the kind of teenage girl who hated her ’evolving’ body and puberty and how men started looking at her differently and how she became a ’girl’ against her own will

unpopular opinion

young bellatrix was just a pretty normal teenage girl. like yeah she was prejudiced and narrow-minded, but i really believe she was just a teenage girl who loved her sisters and laughed a lot. i dont even tend to think she was that against andys relationship with ted at first and the coin really flipped when she understood that andy was going to choose him. to bella their relationship was just a fling, bella had them too, and then when it really came down to it they would fulfill their duties and do whats expected of them. sort of hogwarts being their rumspringa shdhfjsjf if that makes sense ? <- people tend to think bella was just born crazy or evil as if it isnt in the canonical text that azkaban is what deteriorated her mental state. like yeah she wasnt a good person before that, but she was also. a person. who made those choices and had to live with them and committ to them. i dont think she just Chose to submit to voldy without second thoughts. she wanted to and she was going to do it, but she had sisters she loved and has been hurt in her life and theres just NUANCE !!!!!!!!

song i associate with them

[punkbxt]

the people in charge of nutrek dont care about the ideals and premise of star trek and star trek: picard is its biggest tell. its a story that would have been much better if they hadnt brought back legacy characters but also would have been much better had it not been written at all because nobody wants more space cops

the moment picard decided to wash his hands clean of the romulan android situation was the moment i knew that oh this isnt the picard everyone has come to know and love. at his core who he is someone that would not let anyone die if he could help it. like thats his thing if he has the power to help he will!! and yeah sure thats shown in pic too but he literally was like ‘fuck you federation im not gonna help u ignore the romulans cries for help’ when he fr coulda just asked for forgiveness after helping with the power he had as a respected captain or whatever he is. something EVERY oldtrek captain has done time and time again

and yes! characters and their ideals change over time but not fucking like THAT

pic takes a tragedy, a genocide, and takes the romulans, a species that has for the most part always been the enemies of the federation and makes them easy prey. it makes them evil except for those that defected or disguised themselves (look up white passing and what it was actually for and why its a thing). and to put it into more understandable words:

lets say the federation is usamerica (bc for all intents and purposes thats literally what it represents) and that the romulans represent people of color and jews. pic serves for us on a platter that the genocide was just another thing that happened and “its okay they died anyways. romulans have never been on the side of the federation and never wanted to be anyways so no loss” this is what the federation believes

pic has been severely affected by white supremacist and antisemitic ideology and like while yeah science fiction is used to discuss and challenge the oppression we experience today, youd think a franchise that has always preached about diversity inclusion and acceptance would finally get over mass genocide of a “lesser” race as a form of storytelling. its uncomfortable and not in a way in which it makes you think but in a way that shows that even hundreds of years in the future vitriol prevails and it fucking sucks. its harmful towards people of color and jews when even in science fiction we cant escape that someone out there wants us dead

we’ve had enough of white supremacy and antisemitism taking a lil seat at the table to cause ruckus there are 100% other things that could have created and interesting dilema. the federation is literally on some cristobal colon shit n the more nutrek that gets made the less star trek holds up the ideals of diversity inclusion acceptance and love that it preached from its inception. we are instead given a narrative that yeah no matter how long you fight no matter how hard you fight you will NEVER win because systemic racism always wins in the end. its a tired and weak narrative and just goes to show if you dont have any other engaging stories to tell just stop telling the stories and stop ruining characters by making them do things they absolutely wouldnt even stand for

we r stuck with characters that suck up to other characters just because of their legacy and the writing when everyone deserves to be way more mad at picard. sidenote all of the genuine progress that has been made in television with diversity and representation has gone like 20 steps back when it comes to portraying people of color bc not ONE from the main crew passes the paper bag test (again ive only seen season one) which further goes to show white supremacist ideals subtly shining through

the point of star trek is that there will be a better more welcoming loving kinder future than the present and the past. and yeah theyve never been good at portraying that exactly because hope cannot exist without despair. but if you do not learn the mistakes of the past you are bound to repeat them and clearly these writers have not been studying the source material

hope this helps idk man i just b saying shit sometimes sorry if some stuff is repetitive

[volfoss]

sorry for aqualad posting at like 2 am on a thursday morning BUT he is literally the only character ever. ive read a lot of comics w the young sidekick/inexperienced parental figure superhero dynamic and aquaman and aqualad is by FAR my favorite.

aqualad, at the start, is introduced as a child who is deathly afraid of schools of fish, to the point where aquaman has to step in and offer to help him get over his fear after learning about his past.

[ID: Two comic panels from Adventure Comics #269. The first panel shows Aqualad surrounded by fish and clearly panicked. Aquaman reassures him. The second panel shows Aquaman holding a very frightened Aqualad, who pleads for Aquaman to send the fish away from him. /end ID]

this really sets up their relationship a lot through the next issues, as aquaman is trying his best to deal with parenting but is largely unprepared but aqualad loves him more than anything else in the world. aqualad doesn't really have any other adults in his life, as basically he was sent away from atlantis for his purple eyes, which are seen as a sign of the infant being unable to live underwater. hes been an orphan for five years and despite the fact that he can breathe underwater, the proximity to fish made him much too panicked to continue living in atlantis so he was shipped up to surface.

aquaman is SUPER patient with aqualad as he tries to get over his fear of fish and aqualad gets attached to him super quickly (honestly i feel the complete lack of anyone else who really is a good figure in his life really adds to this). but the big difference here, between a lot of the other stuff ive read that follows this trope, aquaman wants aqualad to go back to atlantis after he conquers his fear of fish. he LOVES the kid but he wants him to be in a place where he can thrive. even as aqualad is heading back to atlantis, aquaman is thinking about how much he misses him and how much he cares about him. aqualad ends up using fish to trick aquaman that he went to atlantis and then returns and is taken under aquamans wing. i think a lot of the first issue really stands out as different to other characters like this, but honestly the biggest thing is just how there is depth there in a specific way. they both kind of help each other out (and while that is present in other versions of this dynamic, it comes off differently here).

however, one of the most interesting bits comes in the issue after, Adventure Comic #270. This is Aqualad's second ever appearance and the issue focuses on Aquaman saving a fortune teller, who predicts that someone who he has recently met will cause him harm and take over his position as king of the ocean.

[ID: A panel from Adventure Comics #270 that depicts Aquaman and Aqualad eating birthday cake underwater. Aquaman brings up that he doesn't have a home for Aqualad to live in, and Aqualad doesn't care, as long as he is with Aquaman. /end ID]

He is in denial that it is Aqualad at first but Aqualad keeps doing kind of fishy (pun intended) behaviors that make him convinced that the boy is out to hurt him. The end of the issue reveals that for Aquaman's birthday, Aqualad has been doing all of this to make them a home. what specifically is interesting about this to me is that neither of them have a home: aquamans mother was banished from atlantis and aqualad doesnt want to go back. and that in contrast to a character like batman, aquaman isnt providing for aqualad, aqualad is providing for them both. not saying this in the way of aqualad is forced into a more responsible role, more that they are moreso equals in the process of their partnership, which is something i find deeply interesting.

another example of this comes from Adventure Comics #278, where Aqualad goes to school for the first time. Aqualad is at first hesitant about school because of how much he wants to help Aquaman, but it is clear Aquaman wants what is best for him and wants him to have a more balanced life. Once he is reassured that he can still help Aquaman, he gets adjusted to school pretty quickly, until about half through, when helping someone, he gets hit over the head with a pipe (not even the first time this has happened). aquaman is SO concerned about him passing the exam to be able to fully participate in the school that he gets fish to help him jog aqualads memories. which imo just really shows the fact that they both really want to do all they can to help each other. and idk it means a lot to me because neither of them really have a ton of people in their lives and just really lean on each other.

[shadowwoman06]

Hey! Hope you're doing well. Do you have any Candle Cove headcanons you wanna share? :)

OMG!! Thank u so much for asking! I'm really sorry I haven't gotten to this any sooner (I just reinstalled the app not too long ago and I didn't think it's been this long lol. Edit: I just reinstalled tumblr again lol and holy crap its been a good minute and I'm sorry I didnt get to this any sooner, you can beat me up for it lol :<) But, I do have a couple of headcannons for the CC character along with some OCS too! :3 (one being a self insert lmao💀💀💀)

To start off:

* Pirate Percy has PTSD and extreme paranoia. The PTSD being cause by his father's death and Red Mary betraying the previous crew he was in. (I'm sticking more connonicly with this one since it kinda makes the most sense lol) and his paranoia being due to the Red Mary incident since everyone (besides talapio, she's a dope magic spider lady :3) were either killed or were never seen again after the incident and he also doesn't really trust people because if this.

* Janice also has a little PTSD due to her abuse by her sister, Melrose as well as her mother's death.

* Gretchen (an OC of mine, might post something about her if people would like! :>) is EXTREMELY terrified of fire, like phobia scared of fire. This it due to the fact that she was burned on the stake in her previous life for being a "witch". She also isn't too keen on men (sometimes) due to her past life as well. She's super besties with Horrace since he's the only other magic user she knows (besides Talapio) who isnt evil af like red mary.

* Samantha (YES, THE SELF INSERT💀💀💀) treats the children on the ship as her own, she'll kick anyone's butt for them, crewmate or not. They're her little kids and no one will harm them unless they want a punch right in the gut or worse on a bad day.

* Jacob (another OC of mine lol) is very scared of being abandoned. He was found on an island the Laughingstock Crew kinda crash landed on (they misread their map lol) and found him inside of a run down/burnt building on the island (kinda AU-ish, I can talk more about if people are interested in hearing lol) he was the only one found on the island and no one else was ever found

* Milo throws temper tantrums when he doesn't get his way and will act like a little kid when he doesn't get his way (think of it as those spoiled kid compilations on youtube lol)

* Gretchen, as well, loves kids. In her past life, she always loved kids and dreamt of having one of her own. She care for the kids in the ship as well as anyone in need of help or just a hug :>

If you wanna hear anymore of my goofy little headcannons just let me know!!! :3

[isthejermaclipcute]

if jerma doesnt like "jerma isnt real jokes" then how could you possibly see him being okay with being treated like an animal ?? imagine if someone you didnt know did this shit about you. imagine if you did this with any other person you dont know on the internet. that would be weird as hell

I’m going to really dig into this ask, so I’m putting my response under a read more. This is going to be a long discussion, but I think it’s an important one to have.

As far as I am aware, Jerma hasn’t taken a stance on “Jerma isn’t real” jokes. Please correct me on that if I am wrong. My rule about “Jerma isn’t real” jokes is entirely personal preference; I think they’re overdone and annoying.

I do completely and honestly see your point here. To an extent, the whole idea of “is the (content creator) video cute” blogs is a bit strange. It’s not lost on me that these posts, if made about the wrong person and saying the wrong things, could cause real harm. Personally, I wouldn’t be affected by a blog like this made about me, but that is because I enjoy being compared to an animal (which sounds totally fake, I know, but it’s true).

I would never make a blog like this around anyone else, because I don’t know other people’s preferences around these things. What I do know is that Jerma has interacted with similar jokes to these before with no negativity, such as the “plastic skin” chat message.

I’d also like to make it as clear as possible that when I talk about Jerma in my posts, I do not mean Jeremy, the real person who streams on twitch. I am talking about the fanon idea of the “Jerma985” character. In many ways, content creators play characters, whether they are inventing entirely new personalities for their videos, or just omitting details for the sake of their own privacy. We do not truly know these people. There must be a degree of separation between the Jerma that we watch in livestreams, and the Jerma outside of streams, who lives his life.

I do NOT make posts about Jeremy. I do not say Jeremy in my posts for this reason. This blog is about Jerma985. If you are still uncomfortable with this, you are more than welcome to block me. I don’t want to force my posts upon people who dislike them. I started this blog for fun, and I want it to stay fun for everyone.

I hope this response has been satisfactory. I tend to work myself up over asks like this, so if I have been unclear or you haven’t understood anything, I’m more than willing to clarify. Thank you anon, for reminding me to confront what I do and say, and deeply consider what is appropriate online.

[liminevator]

⚠️ ~ WATCH YOUR STEP - MIND THE GAP ~ ⚠️

[You are now entering the Liminevator, we hope you enjoy your stay]

(Info under the read more)

Hello hello and welcome! This is a blog for a little side project I ( @nnugatoryextravagance ) have been working on that's tangentially connected to my primary oc project.

The Liminevator is a machine that was built by a man named Professor Katzehund Schrödinger, that was originally intended to be for having a safe way to find out the truth about the strange reported phenomena of people slipping from this reality into another with no way to return, not only was this found to be absolutely real but of course something also went horrifically wrong in line with it's creator's declining mental faculties, as a result The Liminevator we now know was born, a dubiously self aware machine that has become its own little divot in the unstable framework of the Crafengoverse and has made getting lost outside of reality easier than ever before, once you enter the doors to the lobby, weather on purpose or by mistake, you'll only be left with two directions left to go: up, or down. Watch your step and mind the gap as you head inside, we hope you'll enjoy your stay, you have an eternity to settle into after all.

-- -- --

This intro post will also serve as a sorta guide for how this blog works

First, there's the levels system for how the floors are categorized

Second, there's a list of basic terminology thats used a lot

Third, there's what the tags are for (don't worry, there aren't too many):

"💔 - Characters" - This tag is for posts about the different denizens located within the bounds of The Liminevator

"🛗 - Floors" - This tag is, well, for posts that're about the floors of The Liminevator

"⚠️ - Anomalies" - This is a blanket tag is for the various animals(?) and things and such found around most floors, whether or not they're just harmless critters or violent beasts is further distinguished by:

"🐾 - Friends" - For anomalies that are safe for denizens or are helpful in some way

"🦴 - Foes" - For violent anomalies that cause active harm to denizens

"🧀 - Fiends" - For anomalies that don't neatly fall into the Friends or Foes categories

"🪄 - Objects" - A tag usually paired with the above three to specify anomalies that don't show enough signs of vitality to be a sort of animal or are very blatantly just an anomalous object of sorts

"💊 - Other Phenomena" - File entries that don't quite fit other categories, wether it be things like illnesses, denizen biology, elevator events, metaphysical phenomena, anything really

--- [Media tags] ---

"📖 - Stories" - a tag for short stories about the elevator denizens (that isn't part of a database entry) either by me or others

"🍿 - Etc" - Miscellaneous posts

"🎨 - Art" - and a tag for any art (that isnt part of a database entry) either by me or others

And thats all of them for now, I may add more tags as I need them but :]

(For the sake of filtering, tags for certain common triggers of things will be formatted like [bad thing] tw)

-- -- --

OOC: (One more important note and a bit more of a personal anecdote about this project, while most of it is primarily my usual worldbuilding shenanigans given a silly twist, many aspects of The Liminevator exist as a way for me to come to terms with the multitudes trauma I've experienced (most obviously with the elevator denizens themselves of course, even sometimes through how I got the characters to begin with), hell this whole thing was born not long after an event with a now ex partner that left me deeply re-traumatized and I have been using it to help me recover from that and distract from ongoing issues, like my health and etc.)

(There will be heavy themes of unreality, occasional unsettling imagery or descriptions, characters with mentions of disturbing events in their past, characters doing awful things to eachother thanks to the perceived idea of zero consequences, and whathaveyou. Everything I ever mention will be tagged accordingly however so don't worry, but if I do mess up please let me know and I will rectify it asap. All I can hope for is maybe this project might be able to help someone like me out there too <:] or at least inspire someone to do something cool)

[A little addendum, yes the project was obviously inspired by the game Regretevator, but it's not based on it, this idea was rattling in my head for a long time and was inspired by a buncha other things too- I just wanted to make that a bit clearer just in case because I've already been asked about it]

[t4tgempearl]

HI im sorry this took so long!! So the undergrove, I will admit i know a little less about it as opposed to some of the other empires but its still v fun to play around with! this isnt as in depth as my gilded helethia rant partically because i am really tired and partially because i know less, i might flesh it out a bit more at a later date though.

I think it's a lot less established then many of the other empires. Not less established as in ramshackle but more as in rather empty. There would be some gnomes that made it through the portal with her but for the most part its populated by forest animals who decided shrub was a friend and the occasional person who didnt want to stay in any other empires.

Shrub became the ruler of the undergrove after she founded it when she led the remaining gnomes to empires from their old world (i havent watched shrubs pov so take that with a grain of salt) She never thought she deserved the title but she ended up taking it anyway.

The culture would be rather different as opposed to many other places, they forage rather then farm. Only a few things are grown or imported. Status is almost non existent and everyone knows everyone. People do many things together, work, eat, sleep. A lot of their traditions revolve around community as a way to get back what they lost after the destruction of their home world.

For cusine and clothing (my favourite parts) i think it would all be rather rustic. Clothes are handmade from animal furs and fabrics imported from other empires. Theyre usually quite loose and practical, lots of pockets and easy to move around in. Colours to match the mushrooms are favoured so many people where white/grey with pops of warmer colours. This does cause a bit of contrast within the forest though so clothes for things such as hunting and foraging are usually made in darker shades of brown and green.

Food is usually made in large batches, big pots of stew, massive loaves of bread, etc. Despite the gnomes smaller size they do this so they can share food and also so it lasts for longer. Many people carry around 'snack pouches' in which they will carry berries, dried meat and other such things to eat throughout the day.

Animals are treated as equals and often have their own homes, if they are the companions of certain families or people they will wear pieces of cloth tied around their legs or necks to show that. Wolves are somewhat revered as holy animals and it is forbidden to ever harm one lest you become cast out and ostracized.

Thats about all i got rn im afraid i need to go to bed, i hope you enjoyed my hopefully somewhat comprehensible rant that i am not bothered to spell check

That was so awesome to read! Tysm!!

I love the undergrove and I am so normal (lie) about shubble characters

[glassroo]

i love blue peep but why are they condemned to shock collar??? kinda fucked up to use ECT on a psychic without consent i’m sure there’s better stuff. or was it already there and the psychonauts are trying to figure out how to take it off??? or was it voluntary on their end like “i will fuck you all up if you don’t physically harm me?” not being judgy or anything! just trying to figure out how the psychonauts and stuff slot together in your world cause your ocs are so fucking cool

AIGHT so first off i wanna start by saying TY FOR ASKING ABT MY OCS THIS DOESNT HAPPEN ENOUGH 💝💝 this response will be layered, bc when it comes to any of my ocs, what ive written barely covers 1/50th of whats in my head. ill try and dot-point without rambling too long

the shock collar isnt as severe as it looks, i really leaned into the "exaggerated overblown Psychonauts™️ design" with it. the Psychonauts put the collar on them shortly after committing them to their psychic rehabilitation program. it generates enough of a zap to bother them, and stop their psychic power. nothing more. regular checkups are performed by Sasha to make sure the output treads the border of effective and safe

there is, as of the year our friend is 15, a psychic rehabilitation program within the Psychonauts. its mostly geared towards the youth, people with more pliable minds that tend to be more receptive to change, general age range being 13-19, and is headed by Oleander. Kylie (our pink muppet bestie) and a few others are also in this program :)

I also typecast the Psychonauts as being a bit more...antiquated with their methods. remember the psychoisolation chambers? i wouldnt put a goofy ahh psychic shock collar past them

our baffling friend has used their psychic suggestion so often throughout their life that it triggers in any question they ask or vague statement they make. the shock collar is part of their CBT, and was deemed necessary after they displayed a severe lack of control over this dangerous ability, plus their (admittedly small) rap sheet. anyone not actively shielding their mind WILL be influenced by their words

their overuse stemmed from the need to constantly use their power to survive their situation growing up. without going too much into it, they experienced severe emotional neglect, moderate physical neglect, among more nuanced stuff that comes from having emotionally immature parents

they committed crimes of their own accord. this only started a few months before the Psychonauts captured them. it's not a regular pattern of behaviour for them. they had come into contact with a psychic with similar, but much more pronounced abilities, which influenced them greatly. the Psychonauts (justifiably) fear that without harsh intervention this behaviour would escalate. this person is somewhat on the Psychonauts radar, but not much is known about them

with all said, our friend didnt consent to the shock collar. i dont think most 15y/o's would. but theyre aware of their issues with unintentional power usage...they just dont think its a big deal though. theyve never had an issue with their power hurting someone, so isnt everything being blown way out of proportion?

throughout their rehabilitation they do come to realise (much like Raz with Hollis) that tampering with the minds of others is not something done lightly. while at the start of their rehab their sentences are constantly interrupted by jolts and zaps, somewhat symbolic of their lack of understanding or care for how their words (powers) affect others, towards the end there's barely a spark when they speak. theyre even able to ask a few questions without triggering the collar, or their powers

in summary, this character has a lot of me in them, and tbh i couldve used some harsh psychic CBT instead of having to unlearn bad coping mechanisms the long, hard way. like me, they hate having a name, they love quiet public transit, they fear expectations, and they ponder where their somewhat aimless life will take them. im glad you like them, and i hope my 3am ramblings have grown your appreciation for them! i think the name J. (Jayden) Doe will work for them. for now. like me, theyll probably change it later :)

[hellfiremunsonn]

(im in my mid twenties but this is a little tmi and embarrassing so I dont want it linked to my account)

So. I have slightly uneven boobs, no big deal some people do. I've always been slightly insecure and a guy once said "its just a handful but thats ok" and then next sentence make comments about how they aren't even and how I must pad my bra (bro hadn't even taken my bra off and I was like ok we're done).

My best friend got her nipples pierced and I told her I dont think I could because my nippers aren't pronounced all the time like hers. I showed her snd she only said "oh weird I thought everyone had nips like mine". We went on no big deal. I have thought about it since, cause I never thought someone's nipples were out when not hard? And like her nips weren't hard they became more pronounced after they were hard if that makes sense?? I was just like yeah I doubt I could get those piercings and moved on but I realized ok we dont all have the same nipples (I never really thought about it before)

Started kissing a guy recently. We hadn't really gotten into it, but he moved my top (i had on one of those tops with a bra built in cause if I can avoid a bra I will). He stopped and then legit made fun of my boobs. Because my nipples were flat? Like imagine a barbie, just round chest area no nipple. It isnt inverted you can see it. Its just...flat? If im cold or aroused my nip gets hard? Which is normal?? But i guess I am not normal?? Anyways this guy said a ton of shit, even offering to get me a boob job and a bbl?

Anyways this guy really fucked with my confidence and I was just like ok I either need to know if this is normal or not. My chest.. Or like, do all guys act like this cause the only other time a guy has seen me without a top we were definitely aroused and no comments were made. Like, I feel like a guy making fun of the person he's about to hook up with is in bad taste. I feel most guys wouldn't, at least the fictional characters I like wouldn't, but is this like a normal thing guys do or is he just a dick cause this is the second guy who has made comments so

Okay first of all men literally ain’t shit.

I know your friend didn’t mean any harm by those comments she made but that’s still a bummy thing to hear.

I HAVE UNEVEN BOOBS

And my nipples are never out unless I’m cold. They don’t get hard when I’m aroused either so they’re usually just like in that “soft puffy” state.

No two boobs are 100% symmetrical unless they’re “fake” I’m pretty sure so having uneven boobs is soooo normal I promise.

My left boob has always been bigger than my right. When I gained a bunch of weight it was still noticeable, and even now that I’ve lost all the weight cause of my meds, my boobs are still uneven!

They’re also no longer firm or perky because of this so thems bitches are a little saggy, and honestly I’ve never had someone say such off handed comments about them. My nipples literally basically point downward to the floor.

I have a short torso and a big ribcage so although my boobs are DD’s they look 10x bigger because I don’t have enough chest/torso space to even it out so they look extra massive and I hate it! It doesn’t help that I’m short either so I’m just this small bitch with big titties and I’m like pls I just wanted like a full B cup. BUT I WORK WITH WHAT I GOT.

Some people have two different sized boobs and one will be an entire cup size different!

AND A HANDFUL OF TIT IS STILL TIT SO THE MEN YOURE HANGING OUT WITH ARE JUST FUCKING TRASH.

(Like if u have a nipple, I’m putting it in my mouth I don’t care what size titties u got)

I’m pretty insecure about my boobs as well! But the way I’ve had sexual partners react to them has definitely helped because most men don’t care.

Idk where I intended on going with all of this but basically long story short, is that you don’t have to be insecure about them! Or feel SO insecure about them? We all have insecurities and stuff we don’t love about ourselves but everything about us makes us exactly that. US.

I’m sorry you’ve had people make comments like that, that’s a shitty thing to hear.

Here’s a picture of me where you can see the size difference to hopefully make u feel a little bit better.

I GOT SAGGY TITTIES AND A FLAT ASS BUT IM STILL OUT HERE GETTING BITCHES

(I yell into the void as if I’m actually getting bitches)