#writing from experience my beloved

[fourphoenixfeathers]

Object permanence got me feeling some kind of way, so i wanted to write something about it. Mind the warnings, this is a bit heavier than my usual stuff. To my peeps who suffer from object permanence issues, you aren’t uncaring or unloving. You are valid and amazing and you shouldn't feel guilty for not missing the people you love.

Hurt/comfort, no beta I die like wormgo.

Tw: grief/loss, object permanence, guilt, internalized ableism

Summary: Sometimes Emmet thinks his smile isn't as forced as it should be.

—————-

“Take all the time you need, Boss.”

“It’s okay to cry.”

“You don’t need to pretend for us. We’re here for you.”

The words were harmless. Well-meaning, even. Coming from his depot agents, Emmet knew they were meant to put him at ease. To give him time to recover.

They hurt like a knife in his gut.

He wasn’t pretending.

Emmet had a new schedule. He brewed enough coffee for one. He fed all 12 of their pokemon. He left a generous tip for the sitter and packed six balls on his belt. He walked to Gear Station, filling the empty silence to his left with soft humming. He entered the station a few minutes early as he always did. He passed by the night shift agents on their way out and wished them a good day. He made sure the morning shift agents were situated in place before the brief break in service ended for the morning.

The depot agents left him alone for the most part. It was easy to ignore the pitying glances and the compassionate eyes when he only ever looked at their mouths or nose. Sometimes, though, they would try to remind him that it’s okay to not be okay.

His first reaction was to remember. His brother was not there. Ingo was gone and there weren't any leads on where he went.

His second reaction was shame. Ingo was gone, and Emmet was fine. What kind of a person was he, to forget his twin?

——————-

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to Emmet when the general public started to pick up on it. The Battle Subway was ridiculously popular, and as one of the heads, Emmet was a verrry public figure. He should have known that whispers would start.

“Well, isn’t he cheery.”

“Seems odd that the double battles trains are running the same as ever.”

“I know a forced smile when I see one. That isn’t it.”

Elesa complained that the media vultures had no idea what they were talking about. Emmet could only hum in reply. It was hard to agree with her when the things they said were the same things that played in his mind whenever he thought of Ingo.

—————

It happened like this. Emmet found one of Ingo’s spare coats in the closet. It hurt to look at, and Emmet was tempted to throw it into a box and hide it in a corner until he forgot about it, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the sleeve.

He stayed there for a while. He felt an ache build in his chest and his fingers as his hands curled tighter into the fabric. Emmet leaned into the feeling, allowing it to sink in and take hold of him. Wasn’t this how he should feel? His brother was missing, presumed dead by the public if not by the law. Emmet should be in pain. He shouldn’t be able to go on like nothing had changed.

Elesa found him spread out on his bed with Ingo’s coat on, his pokemon having long since given up on moving him.

“Emmet,” she called through the doorway. Her voice was heavy with sadness. Whether it was from seeing Ingo’s coat, or seeing Emmet like that, he couldn’t tell.

“Elesa,” he replied flatly. “You miss Ingo, right?”

Emmet kept his eyes on the ceiling as he heard a sigh. The bed to his right dipped under her weight.

“Is this about that awful gossip piece? I told you not to pay attention to that.” Elesa combed her fingers through his hair as he blinked the prickling dryness out of his eyes. His cheeks itched from salt tracks, but he didn’t bother with rubbing his face.

“They are right though. I do not miss him. Not unless something reminds me he is not here.” He fiddled with the end of Ingo’s collar, catching the black in his peripheral vision.

“Oh Emmet, sweetie. Of course you miss him.” Eless’s voice broke as she took Emmet’s hand in her own. They were warm. Emmet met her eyes with a skeptical look, but he didn’t protest. “Look at yourself, you’re doing it right now.”

“I am Emmet. That is because I’m trying to be sad.” It sounded like a weak excuse even to him.

“Don’t try that with me. We both know you’re the first to cry over a sad lillipup movie,” She chuckled good-naturedly, and Emmet’s mouth twitched at the corners. Elesa continued when she saw his smile return. “You don't have to be sad constantly to grieve. It's okay to be okay sometimes. That doesn’t mean you don’t care. It just means you have to work through this differently.”

Emmet blinked tears away as her words sank in. She gave him time to process what she said as she rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. After a minute, he gave her a tiny nod.

“Okay,” he conceded with a sniffle. Unfortunately, his pokemon took the response as an invitation to approach, and the two of them were swiftly buried in a cuddle pile. Fresh out of a crying spell, Emmet immediately burst into tearful laughter at their antics.

“I am sorry I worried you all. I am back on track now.” Emmet grinned.

“Do you wanna change, or…?” Elesa trailed off.

“Nope,” Emmet chirped. “Even if I could escape. I would not want to. I would like to keep this for now.”

“Suit yourself. Just don’t let yourself spiral like that again, got it? I’m always just one call away.”

“Understood, Miss Elesa Nimbasa.”

[skoulsons]

Joel strolled up to her door, setting his bag and rifle against the frame. Her door was ajar, just as she left it every night, as did he. In the case of emergencies, or nightmares, it’s how they lived. It made them feel safer knowing the other wasn’t behind a closed door.

He pushed it open, the hinges creaking at the motion. It wasn’t quite 6am when he was scheduled for patrol. Moonlight was still peaking through the pine trees, forming streaks of white light into Ellie’s room.

Ellie stirred at the creaking, but settled back comfortably on her right side. Joel tip toed to her bedside, his weight pulling the end of the mattress down as he sat by her feet.

“Mornin’, kiddo,” he whispered, setting a hand on her calf and lightly rubbing his thumb back and forth. “Headin’ out for patrol with Tommy. I’ll be back before dinner. We can cook something up together, yeah?”

Ellie gave a mumbled “mhm” into her pillow, barely registering that he was even there, let alone talking about anything she could understand through her sleep.

“Alright, it’s a plan,” he smiled, knowing she couldn’t see him. “Be safe today, kiddo. I’ll see you a bit later.”

He started to push off the bed as she mumbled something again, sleep coating any attempt at a coherent string of words. “Hmm?”

“Rub. Back.” She said it half into her pillow; it’s a miracle Joel could make anything out. Ellie adjusted herself from her side to laying flat on her stomach, giving Joel more access.

He chuckled to himself, pulling the blanket down to rub her back through her sleep shirt, which just so happened to be one of his dirt stained t-shirts.

She let out a number of content mumbles and incoherencies as he rubbed her back, eventually tracing her name letter by letter on her back over and over again.

“Alright, baby, I gotta go. I’ll be back later this evening.” He rubbed his hand over her back a few more times before pulling away and drawing the blanket back up to her shoulders. He pushed off the edge of the mattress to stand, stepping closer to her head. He leaned over, pressing his fist into the mattress on her other side to press a kiss to the crown of her head. He tucked a few hair strands away behind her ear, smiling to himself again. He’s home.

[sevendutchies]

People in this fandom will really look at The Fool, Patience, Lacey, Carson, Sedric, Hest, Davvie, Lecter, Kennit, Ash/Spark, and yes, even Fitz himself, and still have the gall to call it queer bait.

These characters are explicitly queer, their actions impact the narrative, they are well written, and their identities are treated with respect. That is the best possible queer representation you could ask for in any story.

I've seen people on tumblr basing the likelihood of if they read this series on whether or not it's "actually gay" and I'm here to tell you that it is. There are queer characters. There are queer protagonists. And no matter what you see people in the fandom say, Robin Hobb wrote some amazing queer representation in a genre that rarely sees it at all.

EDIT: and I think it's pertinent to note that, no, characters who are questioning or struggling with their feelings about sexuality instead of knowing 100% does not make something queer bait or "less gay"

TLDR;

Queer bait = disrespectful marketing ploy that exploits queer audiences

Queer bait ≠ "my two favorite characters never have sex"

[orcelito]

Like OK so I've been reading a fic with trans wolfwood in it that is so. HONEST. About how it affected him and still affects him. In a way that's very much not an average cis writer portrayal of a trans character.

Like. Either this writer is trans or did plenty of research, but it just feels REAL to me. And it has me thinking about my own way of writing trans Wolfwood.

I'm not there yet. But I've been thinking about it. The ways that what the EOM did fucked him up... but it also acted as HRT that affirmed his gender. So what do you do when you're in a body you don't recognize, but looks much more like a man than ever before? There's some gender euphoria in a way, but dysphoria at the same time bc you didn't grow into this. You didn't watch yourself transition. Suddenly you just Were this, and it's not you, but also it's nice to finally be seen as a man, but it also feels wrong to feel grateful for any part of what they did to you...

On and on and on

You see? This is what I want to think about with him. This is why trans Wolfwood is so compelling to me. It's just so Complicated, he'd have such Complicated feelings about his body and the way he lives with it. He learns this new body, it starts to feel more like his, but he also mourns the fact that he didn't get to watch it grow into this like he should've.

That kind of thing.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

"Forever?" Pac calls around the base. "Are you here?"

In the back of his mind he hears Mike laughing - they both know that Forever is somewhere within his larger base, just that Pac isn't entirely sure where. Richas had said he was here, and Pac's pretty sure the mentioned stack of paperwork isn't letting him up any time soon. Not if not even their son's begging had not dragged him away.

He twirls the vine lasso in his fingers - that's what he's here for, after all.

"Forever?"

This time, when he listens, he can hear a groan and something mumbled. It's clearly Forever, but also does not sound like him at all. Something's wrong; Pac tucks the lasso he bought to drag Forever from his work away, and heads towards the noise.

A little silly kidnapping is nothing between friends, but if there's genuinely something wrong then he needs to be ready. Mike, settled in the back of his mind, agrees - asks if he shoukd send Rocharlyson to Cellbit and come over too.

Pac declines - for now - but makes a careful approach in the direction of the noise.

He turns a corner and there Forever is, sat on the floor with a blanket over his shoulders and a giant stack of paperwork around him.

"Forever why aren't you at a desk?!" Pac says, before he can think of anything else.

One look at the paperwork shows most of it is Presidential work, but at least a few pieces look like redstone machines.

"Oh hey Pac," Forever doesn't look up. "Just fancied a change of scenary."

"You'll hurt yourself," Pac says with the certainity of someone who has done the same a thousand times before. "Do you want help carrying it back to your office?"

"Just let me…"

Forever's signature on the paperwork is lopsided at best - he reaches for another, and Pac slaps his hand away.

"Richarlyson misses you," its a low blow, but it is one. "Let's put this in your office then go see him."

"I'll put it in my office, but I need to work," Forever's face is at least appropriately pained as he says that, and the compromise came unusually fast.

It's okay, once they put the paperwork down then Pac can kidnap him and force him to see some sunlight; he leans down, and grabs a stack. Forever makes to stand up, only to lean heavily on the wall.

"Forever?" Pac's eyes fix on him immediately. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," Forever waves a hand. "I'm fine, I just... Need to get this done."

Pac doesn't quite believe him; he begins to lower the papers back to the floor, that he might offer Forever the support of his arm.

He's not quick enough - Forever seems to gather himself, makes to stand properly, and in a blink is back on the floor, sprawled amongst the paperwork.

Pac screams in every way possible, dropping the papers to get to his friend. He hears Mike say something along their bond, but doesn't listen as he drops to his knees at Forever's side.

Already Forever is starting to come around; Pac taps his cheek for attention, and eyes flutter vaguely in his direction.

"Forever?" he asks, trying to pull him closer to awake. "Forever, you do not get to tell me you're okay."

"Pac?" Forever's voice is hazy, and its not reassuring.

"I'm here," Pac says. "Mike will be here soon - he'll do the yelling. Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?"

Soon is maybe an understatement; as soon as he says that, he hears Mike's panicked yells from above. Afraid of hurting Forever's head more Pac instead tugs on their bond, a little scared himself but guiding the other half of his soul down.

He doesn't try to hide his own fear there, for all he masks it from Forever.

"Or... Now."

Mike makes much better time than Pac did, glasses slightly askew and lab coat far from clean as he storms over.

"Forever, you idiot!" He yells, before taking a breath and dropping maybe a third of his volume. "When did you last eat? Or drink something? Sleep?"

Even as Mike says all of that, he and Pac flash their own thoughts back and forth - Pac shows him how he found Forever, and what happened. Mike continues scolding as he guides Pac through checking Forever's head and spine for any damage. To their joint relief, there doesn't seem to be any.

"Where's your kitchen?" Mike ends with.

"Kitchen?" Forever screws his eyes up, the effort of thinking entirely consuming as he waves a hand in the approximate direction.

Pac and Mike share a worried thought, unbroken even as Mike hurries off in that direction.

"Forever?" Pac tries to ask more gently his time. "Does anything hurt?"

There's a pause; Forever shakes his head a bit, only to grab at it.

"I'm just a bit dizzy... it's fine," the words come too slowly, quiet and slightly slurred. "Just... A moment."

Pac tries to swallow his throat, reaching out and resting a hand on his arm, "take your time. Do you want help sitting up?"

Forever nods, and it's another terrible decision. Pac shuffles closer, helping as Forever eases himself up and against the wall. They're near one of the slight corners, and the extra wall seems to take a lot of his weight.

Once he is situated, Pac pulls his hands away. They hover, expecting to need to catch him again; thankfully it isn't true. "All good?"

The nod doesn't seem to cause too much trouble this time, though Forever's breathing still sounds a little off - forced but level, like he's counting breaths - and he still refuses to open his eyes.

Mike returns not long after; Pac feels him coming, and looks up to greet him. He's carrying some juice and some toast on one of their lab trays. The plates are Forever's and presumably clean, at least.

He kneels next to Pac, and puts the tray on the floor. He squeezes Pac's leg a little - Pac presses a little weight against his side - before picking up the juice.

"Forever," he says. "Drink this."

Forever cracks one eye open, and groans. He does, however, take the glass. Both hands are needed to hold it, and he makes use of the straw Mike put in there, but despite the slight shake he manages it fine.

After the juice, Forever is handed the toast. Pac watches as a little colour returns to his cheeks, and finds Mike relaxing too.

Now he can see that Forever simply forgot to eat anything for a while, Pac relaxes. He's done it before, Mike's done it before - he's pretty sure everyone on the island has, even if not to the point of fainting. Maybe not Etoiles - he has to be so much more careful about his blood sugar than the rest of them - but Etoiles would know how it feels none the less.

"Sorry," Forever quirks half a smile around the toast. "I must look an absolute dumbass."

"It's okay, we've all done it," Pac tilts his head a bit as he smiles back. "Mike and I have picked each other off the floor so often."

"You do," Mike confirms, taking back the cup. "I'm dumping your paperwork on Cellbit, and you're having a nap."

"Cellbit doesn't sleep either," Forever points out.

"But he's Roier's problem, not mine," Mike stands, offering Forever an arm.

It takes a little effort, but they get Forever on his feet. The query about his bed makes Mike, once again, protectively angry. Pac... declines from mentioning his own lack of one, but then he usually shares with Mike so perhaps its not so much a problem.

Pac grabs the tray, plate, and cup, ready to drop them if his hands are needed but not expecting it.

They end up setting up a bed in the corner of his sitting room - Pac has no doubt it will disappear soon enough - and sitting Forever down on it.

"Guys, I'm fine," Forever says, and he genuinely does sound better now.

Pac isn't sure, though, and Mike feels even less believing of the words.

"Nap while we make you dinner?" Pac suggests.

Forever looks between them, goes to argue, then sighs and lies down.

Pac actually looks at Mike this time, and the look is returned - Forever is definitely not okay.

I'll cook and you stay with him? Pac thinks at the other half of his soul.

Mike nods to the suggestion, and perches on the back of the couch. Pac nods back, and vanishes off towards the kitchen.

[icewindandboringhorror]

sometimes looking at like Self Help Strategies lists for the symptoms I'm having is always just like:

thing that I already do

thing I have tried 10 times

thing I already do

thing that I don't have the money to do

thing I already do

thing I've been doing since I was 10yrs old to no avail

thing that is impossible given my situation

thing that doesn't apply to me

thing that I already do

thing I have already tried

hrmm, oh wait, maybe finally- OH, yeah.. okay. thing that I already do but it was just phrased slightly differently

thing I have already done

[robinsnest2111]

continuation of the quasi sickfic snippet.

Randy manages to hold onto consciousness till the end of his shift but only barely. Its obvious he's not fit to drive home by himself.

Chris and his girlfriend could care less what happens to their whimpy coworker, their boss has dipped early. Benson is the only one who is somewhat concerned.

Instead of asking Randy for his home address and driving him home and delivering him into the (overbearing, smothering) hands of his mom, you know, like a NORMAL person, he decides to take the fever stricken boy home with him. Leads him to his car, deposits him in the passenger seat, lifts his legs inside one by one. Randy immediately sinks into himself, visibly deflating, as soon as his behind makes contact with the cushion and his legs are inside the vehicle.

Benson turns down the radio to a more comfortable volume, pretty sure that Randy is fighting a losing battle against a nasty headache at this point. Reaches over to lower the passenger side window, letting the air flow cool Randy's flushed face.

Halfway home, Benson realises that he now has to find a place for Randy to rest, has to take care of him, has to make sure the boy doesn't succumb to whatever virus it is that's got him in this sorry state. Are there even any meds at home? When was the last time he was sick? He quietly curses himself and his less than thought through decision. The worry about Randy got the better of him.

He makes a quick stop at a pharmacy and a convenience store, picks up the basics of anti-inflammatory painkillers and a couple cans of cheap chicken soup. That'll have to do.

When they make it to the house Benson shares with his mom, Randy is barely responding. Which is concerning. The fever must be in full swing already. He picks the boy up, he's lighter than he looks, which is also concerning. Does he get enough food at home? No wonder this cold has knocked him on his ass in less than 24 hours.

He walks through the front door, past his mom and down the hallway, straight into his room. He places Randy down on his bed, draping his arms and legs into a somewhat comfortable position. Fixes the pillow under his head. That'll have to do for now.

Benson makes his way back out to his car, getting the painkillers and the soup cans. Walks back into the house and into the kitchen, ignoring his mom's questions. At least for the rest of today. It's all about taking care of the boy his boy now, and trying to not fuck it all up.

[choccymilllk]

i needed to share this with you (this is loyal simplepotatofarmer)

ive literally never been more glad that ive checked tumblr bfore going to snoorkmimimi

theyr the greatest thing ever,,<3333 id do anything for them🫵🫵💥💥💥

THEYR LIKE THOSE GUYS FROM BREMEN U KNOW WAHHHH

A CHICKEN AND A PIGG!!!!✌️✌️ WHAT WILL THEY DO???? im going to cry theyr so great wahah

[riacte]

the exterra social media posts were part of ther reason why i put my own ocs into a place where people talk about them on social media and theinternet in general and you know what? i have been having fun and an asbolute blast with that for so long, i can just grab my thoughts and feelings on internet culture and write my silly little stories about it

<3 <3 Yeah online stuff is SUPER fun! Once you go there you can't go back anymore. Go wild anon <3 and the best thing is you can "borrow" from all the chaotic real life discourse, fictionalise it, and it won't hurt anymore lmfao.

What I like about these little bits of social media worldbuilding is that... regardless of which era we're in, regardless of what technology is out there, we as humans will always find a way to be silly. People will always have celebrity figures they adore and stories they want to tell and silly arguments with people and specific memes that unite them.

Outside of being fun, I actually think social media stuff is useful to general worldbuilding because people will be unserious and they will bitch over stupid things. And it's good to have a grasp of what the (chronically online) public thinks in regards to their "mundane" daily lives. Tbh the online meeting culture that spawned from 2020 has made me realise that even if the new technology sounds super cool and innovative, even if we're suffering in a worldwide pandemic, we will always find silly things to make fun of. Like the virtual backgrounds and lagging and muting and the emoji reactions.

In a scifi world full of teleporters, there will always be a stressed overworked intern like "whoever ate garlic bread at the teleporter at building 34 is my worst enemy🔥 i hope your atoms get evaporated and you never come back". In a post-apocalyptic world, there's a teen girl who's never seen the sun saying "oh my gaia do y'all remember the fake strawberry flavoured candies they gave us as kids and the poor scientists spent so much time figuring out how to grow real strawberries again but we all preferred the fake flavour 😭😭😭". It's the little things.

Making the Spopera nonsense has also inspired me to add social media nonsense to my original fiction 🤡 it's a superhero / supervillain universe and people are simping for them on #herotwt / #villaintwt and shipping them (obviously). A supervillain accidentally kills their favourite nemesis and sends out a notes app apology. There's Twitter beef between the mayor and the leader of the villains and they're ratioing each other. General public tweeting "WDYM MY FAV HERO DIED IN BATTLE??? TL IS IN SHAMBLES" and it's qrted by someone saying "WIG SNATCHED they were problematic anyways stream my supervillain fancam #AllHeroesAreBastards #DownWithTheHeroes" and death threats fly around because of course they do.

[enbysiriusblack]

How about a hurt/comfort prompt involving Remus having a particularly bad day of chronic pain and his friends are helping him through it

"We've got a test today."

"I could care less", James huffed, pushing Remus back down into bed.

"That's not grammatically correct", Remus tried to say, wincing as he spoke.

Peter and Sirius came in the room, carrying a wheelchair between the two.

Peter wheeled it over to Remus' bed, "Pomfrey told us to tell you not to go to classes today so just to use the chair to go to meals and for 'a pinch of sunlight'"

Sirius snorted, "she's got too much faith in you, Moony", they said, laying down at the end of Remus' bed just before turning into Padfoot.

Remus reached out a hand to stroke them, "I'm just going to use my cruch, I am not spending all day in that."

James sighed, "you are. Come on, it's not a big deal."

"You're not the one that has to use it. It's embarrassing!"

Sirius turned back into human form, a grin instantly on their face as they jumped off the bed and grabbed a piece of red ribbon that Sirius usually used for their hair. They tied it to the wheel.

"Now it's more personal, like it's yours, a part of you."

"I don't want it to be a part of me."

James grabbed a gel pen that Lily had given him and went over to the wheelchair, "I didn't want my hair to be part of me but what can you do? "

Peter snorted, "Cut it off?"

"Not the point", James said, starting to draw little stars, moons, and books on the red ribbon.

"Well what is your point?" Sirius chimed in, starting to add more ribbon.

"My point is that sometimes you have to use, carry, wear, or have things that you don't like so the only thing to do is to make yourself like it more. I didn't like my hair, but I'd look terrible with it all shaved off, so I just let it grow out more and used my Pitā's hair stuff."

Remus rolled his eyes, "your hair has always looked the exact same."

"Again, not the point. For me, it feels different, I think it's different and I feel like it's very much me. Even though it's the 'exact same' as you lot seem to think."

Remus' scowl hardened before looking again at the wheelchair, Peter was now painting a plant that looked suspiciously similar to cannabis, on the back of the chair. The wheels were now covered in red, beige, and yellow ribbon, half of the ribbon holding scattered doodles from James.

Remus' scowl lifted, and he reached for a packet of fags, "you know... no teachers are going to think of checking my chair for contraband. I think we've got a new hiding place, lads."

Peter grinned as he slipped the packet into the chair's back pocket.

Sirius held out a hand to help Remus up, "You sure you're alright for classes?"

"We have DADA, Padfoot. Lycanthropy may have some control over my life, but it will never dictate what I can or can't do."

[bmpmp3]

dysgraphic artiƨts risɘ UP!!!!!

[darabeatha]

/ TAKING ALL OF U GUY'S KIND SUGGESTIONS !!!

[yellowheartz]

Tiktokers out there having the most wildest family lore out there while my family lore has all the sweetest and most beautiful poetic shit ever.

[spacebugarts]

Is it just me or does sitting in a laundromat just activate Peak Autistic Behavior? Like I'm just sitting here waiting for it to finish and I feel like I look like this to everyone around me

[weidli]

okay one of my flatmates is really fucking starting to piss me off lmao

[potatobugz]

opening untitled google doc #7592 so I can attempt to write something again but ultimately never finish it