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girlinplaits · 2 years

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Screaming. Crying. Throwing myself against a wall; A walkthrough of Netflix’s ‘Heartstopper’ with Set Decorator Maxwell Fine

Image credits: Netflix, Rob Youngson, See Saw, Maxwell Fine

This post has been copied from Maxwell Fine's website for future reference.

My phone didn’t stop buzzing on a random Wednesday in February 2021. Colleagues and friends were tweeting, facebooking and whatsapping me to tell me See Saw was producing a new show called Heartstopper for Netflix and I had to get myself involved. After making a little bit of a name for myself in LGBTQIA+ creative projects earlier in my career It sounded like the perfect fit for my next TV show!

I’m Maxwell Fine and for the past 10 years I have worked as a Set Decorator in TV, Advertising and Music promo. I’ve been in the most bizarre and fabulous situations on set from steaming silk curtains for Kate Winslet on a Lancome campaign to watching Lady Gaga be strung up to a studio ceiling in Japanese ropes for an Art Film. I’ve made panel shows, scripted comedies and fiercely bold dramas for BBC, Disney and Netflix amongst others - the list really does go on and on.

Thankfully, my phone often rings and my inbox is filled with requests here and there “can you do that?” or “Are you available to jump on this?” and on this particular random Wednesday afternoon, the brilliantly bold and BAFTA award winning designer Tim Dickel, asked me to jump on a Zoom to discuss a new project.

I had never heard of (the absolutely delightful) New York Times Best selling Author, Alice Oseman’s ‘Heartstopper’ before the script landed in my inbox. Like a lot of people, once I discovered it I couldn’t get it out of my head. There were so many parallels to my own life and I immediately understood why it was a queer story that just had to be told mainstream. If you can, you must - and so we did!

A few years previous I had campaigned for Switchboard LGBT+ helpline with the launch of my Print and Neon sculpture project ‘Robbed’. I created a load of typographical artworks inspired by a mentally exhausting jaunt I had with an ex partner who struggled with coming to terms with his sexuality.

The Art Department on a shoot take care of everything visual. From designing and building sets, booking Animals and Characters Vehicles, Food styling through to all the props and furniture used to dress a space. Paperclips to Spaceships - it’s up to the Art Department who design, buy and coordinate. As a Set Decorator, I work with a Designer and team to bring their vision to life through … stuff!

Observation is king.

I learnt to be a keen observer really early in secondary school. I was around 14 years old when I found myself squirrelled away at the back of the Art Classroom. I found myself set up on a stool next to the photocopier because I wouldn’t stop talking to my friends all lesson. I soon worked out that I really liked playing with materials and making things and so, headphones in I would sit for hours and hours, in lunch breaks and after school - making things. Painting, drawing, crafting sculptures, working with layering, cutting things out, trying again and again to make something out of nothing - a theme that would take me into this weird and wonderful career in Television!

We were being taught to observe. A weird task perhaps but an important one that would give me grounding for my future career working in TV design! As students, we would look at the world around us and try and replicate. Impressionist brush strokes, shadows and highlights on fruit, the texture of an onion out of papier mache - whatever we were working on - observation was king. Looking back now, I can not stress enough the importance of this life skill.

I gently honed my craft and with a lot of encouragement from teachers I passed my GCSE in Art and moved onto A Levels, then graduated Secondary school to a Foundation course in Art and Design and then onto Central Saint Martins to study Performance design as a University degree.

When we find Charlie sitting alone on the floor in the Art Classroom pondering life, it really made me think back to my own experience at school. Okay - so it’s wasn’t quite the same and our stories are different - but that connection to creativity and our shared curiosity with the world Charlie has is familiar to my story too.

In practice, being lead by our brilliant designer Tim, I tried to take the messy creativity of my own Art Classroom at School through to the Art Classroom at Truham. Together with our fabulous Production Buyer Zoe Seiffert and our Art Department team, we worked to create endless lists of what we were going to put in this empty room to bring it to life as a working Art Classroom.

I dug out some old photos I had of my Art room and we started to observe and take notes. Paint bottles, dirty brushes, coursework, notebooks, portfolios, stacks of paper. “Plants! We always had plants!” Zoe noted - quick - we popped some plants in the space and then our Art Assistants started making sketches of leaves, paintings of trunks to put around the place - as if the students had had a botanical project of some sort and had made work from the objects around them. All the amazing Artwork you see in the space was conceived by Tim and made in house by our team. Themes of Identity, open doors, the eye project, animal and environmental sculptures, self portraits - we were really exploring classic school themes here!

We added layers upon layers to bring life to the abandoned school we were filming in. We brought in coloured glass objects on window sills for light to bounce through, splattered paint all over the walls and repainted furniture. Our Art Assistants made recycled sculptures from coloured cellophane we found at a recycling warehouse on the outskirts of London. Tim has a knack of finding brilliant source images to work from. Sea animals, giant Jellyfish sculptures, Cassette tapes made from string, Fingerprint Artwork made from Newspaper cuttings - the creativity was endless!

You may notice throughout the series the Artwork in the room changes as the story moves through the seasons and our Characters develop their romance. Cacti sculptures come into bloom, Tissue Paper buds begin to blossom and we add more detail as the series progresses - in a way, the props here have their own way of growing with the Characters!

To say this set specifically was a labor of love is an understatement. We moved the artwork around the walls more than you’ll ever know, mounting, stapling, creating labels and really trying to capture the vibe of a busy British Secondary school Art room. We knew it was the one place in School where Charlie seeks refuge and so the relief of uncapped creativity needed to come through the props and dressing in this space more than anywhere else in the School.

Continuing our theme of integrating Alice’s illustrations, the sets in the Schools are almost their own character!

Tim was keen to create contrasting shapes and block colours to define spaces and keep the visual clean and graphic. The team made some epic 3D science posters in the Higgs form room and printed a semi transparent window film of the Periodic table to put in the window panes. Throughout the schools you can find nods to illustrations. From the Hokusai inspired blowing leaf mural (drawn by Alice!) in the Hallway (a beautiful nod to the winds of change!) at Truham to the Julian Opie inspired mural outside by the picnic benches. The best design ideas are often the simplest.

Tim wanted to work with the concept of a Geography classroom in the Truham Form room. Volcano sculptures made by students (actually made by our super talented Art Assistants) and segmented diagrams of Geodes and Rocks on the windows. We even found some really cool sandy beige school chairs from the 70’s to use here. Tim loves using light panels and placed a brilliant display of backlit images of rocks in the corner behind Nicks head for the scene where Charlie and Nick first meet. I loved the idea of rocks being formed under pressure and the metaphor of our characters blossoming romance - it all seemed to fit quite nicely. There are little gems like this all over the sets if you’re on the look out!

How to fill an empty space

Rule number one: Some spaces need to remain empty and some spaces are full on purpose.

Everything you see on screen is intentional, from dying plants to folded post-it notes. The colour of confetti through to the pattern on Nellie the dogs collar - every single item was hand picked by the Art Department with intention. You might think, why does this matter? Well, if it was any other way - we’d be telling a different story!

I talk a lot about contrast in this blog and really it’s the idea of full spaces vs empty spaces, light rooms vs dark rooms that bring the magic of a set together. The Dark, empty hallway Charlie follows Ben down vs the busy bright and colourful Art Room Charlie feels truly comfortable in to discuss his innermost feelings with Mr Ajai - everything we do is designed to support the storyline.

Working from Alice’s source material, we wanted a sense of hand drawn details in our sets. You can see this in patterns on ceramics and fabrics all over our sets. We tried to select elements that had a friendly illustrative element to them, from mugs to water bottles, curtains to cushions. The shapes within objects have softness, curves, uneven lines - we set ourselves guidelines to know what sort of objects to search for when we were buying.

As in most film shoots, we worked to create the perfect environment for our characters to exist in to let the story unfold. Charlie’s room is eclectic and messy because his story can be seen as eclectic and messy. He absorbs everything going on around him, over thinks and questions everything, so our question was; how do we show this through stuff?

Nicks room is more uniform in style. Nick’s life can be seen as more stereotypically ‘together’ than Charlie’s and so his Bedroom reflects this. It looks more settled and more formulaic. For me, the way Charlie embraces his sexuality is a direct result of him being so creatively curious in life. Although he might not think it, he’s bold, courageous and sure of himself. We wanted to create a design contrast between Nick and Charlie’s spaces to show their differences. Having such rich source material from Alice’s illustrations was a brilliant starting point for us to create from.

Our team worked on fleshing out the illustrations and adding layers of British Teenage life to them. We discussed how these characters would have grown up in these bedrooms and what the objects would be within them that make the bedrooms theirs.

There’s magic in the clutter!

We try to create a sense of realism by mixing and contrasting objects and colour tones. Brand new things next to vintage fabrics, hard surfaces next to soft, light next to dark. It can even get as granular as Matt next to Gloss - it’s all in the contrast. People tend to gather things in their environments over time from all sorts of places. It’s our job on a shoot to find the balance and create a convincing space in a super fast turn around -often a matter of weeks from concept to finished set.

Charlies bedroom wanted to be messy but also had to have a sense of ownership. We wanted to give him layers and layers of life that had collected as he’d grown up in the bedroom. We start with working out the furniture and then the rest falls into place from there. Our question often was, if there were 100 objects available what ones would Charlie pick to have in his bedroom? Out of all the things in the world, what represents him the most? Lamps, shoes, trinkets and bedding, books and posters - everything chosen specifically with the character in mind. I like to think the props tell their own story!

Early on Tim was keen to involve graphic shapes in the design for Heartstopper which came directly from Alice’s illustrations. The key to this was pulling reference directly from the Graphic novels. Stripes, stars, squiggles, leaves - you can see it in every scene and every shot. I found the rug from Charlie’s bedroom in a closing down sale in North London. We thought it worked really nicely with its bold geometric shapes in the scene where Nick and Charlie are on the floor doing homework.

I knew from reading my scripts (1000 times) that we had a sleepover here and our Characters would be hanging out on the floor. We found a vintage mattress to pull in on the floor for this scene and a load of random bedding and camping accessories we imagined would have been hauled out of the attic by Charlie’s dad. Charlie’s ‘cabin bed’ is raised up on cabinets which gives us some texture and shape behind him when he’s leaning against it sitting on his bedroom floor.

I found a job lot of amazing vintage erasers - we really wanted a sense of collections and nic’naks on shelves, stuffed behind the bed and on the desk. Our Art Assistants set to work scribbling, doodling, scratching marks into the furniture and remaking various things to turn one thing into another. A camel sculpture wears a vintage Action Man jacket, Toy Soldiers climb around Charlie’s bedroom door. It went on and on, including the excessive Converse piled around the room and plenty of Knitted jumpers noted in the graphic novels! If you looked super closely, we even scratched height marks into Charlie’s bedroom door frame as if his parents had noted different heights as he grew up.

Tim wanted realism in the sets to ground them in something believable and provided us with a lot of creative references to work from. We spent a long time researching what teens had in their bedrooms to guide us! I was asked if I could frame one of my Art prints for Charlie’s bedroom and we thought that the iconic ‘Stand Tall’ print would be the perfect piece to pop on his bedside table. It’s available to buy here if ever you needed an ounce of positivity and encouragement in your life too!

Our fantastic Art Assistant Anastasia Louka is a creative force and is behind most of the hand drawn elements in the show. Anastasia set about doodling and drawing, scribbling and making little personal bits all over the sets. The idea was to show a life lived in these spaces. We love stuff and our stuff (much like our clothes) show the world who we are.

Charlie’s house wanted to continue on the theme of being relaxed and creative. We wanted to create a connection to Charlie’s bedroom with a more grown up feel to it. The house needed to be familiar and cosy - we settled on the idea of his parents, much like Charlie being worldly people who had collected a variety of things in their lives. Peoples homes and bedrooms are often nests where they bring objects back from their experiences out in the world. Human beings are brilliant collectors of stuff and we try to show this when we work on sets for any project.

We set about buying in a load of artifacts from their travels, lots of terracotta and memorabilia from Europe. We thought about trinkets they may have brought home from a holiday to put on Kitchen surfaces, bits and pieces Charlie’s Dad may have collected over time on the fireplace in the living room. Teapots and vases, jugs and magnets - all sorts! I found a patterned sofa on eBay that I thought looked super comfy and something his mum would have bought when they moved in. Maybe something to bring gentle nostalgia for that iconic scene where Charlie is asleep on the Sofa with Nick.

I think the whole vibe of the house is that they’ve been there since Charlie and Tori were kids. There’s something about an old house that is so warm and lovely rather than something new and clean looking that can be a bit more hostile as an environment. Rather than going heavy with pattern, we worked with variations on tone and colour shades within ceramics and various pieces of wood furniture with knocks and deep wood grain to look like they had lived a life. We carried this through to slouchy cushions and floppy tropical plants, everything we put into the space was to create a sense of warmth, the sets here were almost sunkissed.

Nick’s room wanted to be a contrast to Charlie’s. In Charlie’s bedroom we see a lot of personal creativity in the objects he surrounds himself with. It’s almost like his Mum has decorated it for him and he’s added personal touches as a layer on top of that. We start our story with Nick not really knowing much about his sexuaility, so we wanted to add heteronormative touches to his room to ground his Character visually.

Our King of Rugby has a lot of trophies and sports medals. We dressed Robots on the window sill, Tin Spaceships and sports themed games, metal gridded shelving, Aeroplanes hanging from the ceiling and of course a load of hoodies everywhere - it’s a boys bedroom. There are a few bits from when he was younger but we thought maybe his mum had had a good clear out and a redecorated as he grew up. He even has a double bed!

As with all our sets, when we have hard surfaces we needed to cosy it up a bit and we do this here with soft linen curtains, throwback bedding and a slouchy corduroy beanbag. I especially loved Alice’s ‘Straight boy puts up one string of fairy lights for Christmas and never takes them down’ vibe.

Of course, there’s buckets of personality in Nick’s bedroom too but we wanted it to be less free flowing and fluid than Charlie’s. Knowing Nick’s mum was a Doctor we thought there had to be a sense of formality and style to the space to contrast with Charlie’s wholly creative and organic environment. The most ‘out there’ this room gets is the bright yellow sunglasses hanging on the peg board! Crazy Nick ;) There’s more structure to the objects we put into this space, less eclectic and more scandinavian design themes - block colours and cleanly shaped objects in light wood, chrome and frosted perspex. I think this sets the tone for a teen who seemingly has his life together and allowed us to strike that distinction when he realises it may be taking a turn in a different (but fabulous) direction as our story develops. I guess it depends on how much you think ‘stuff’ defines a person.

We had the challenge of bringing life a few more amazingly detailed bedroom sets for the other Characters in our story. We knew we wanted a Top-Shot of Darcy’s room and that they were super super expressive as a person. We set about finding all sorts of things to have on their bedroom floor that they could lay amongst from toys to clothes through to random bits of bedding from their childhood and even some fun fairy lights and streamers to throw into the mix. Elles bedroom was a bit more refined, she’s a talented artist so we made a load of doodles and paintings to put on the wall. The fun part was getting variations between the bedrooms and this comes through in the detail the team put into the sets.

Tao’s bedroom was bursting with Polaroid photos and amazing Artwork made by our in house Graphic Designer Mike Cranston. For this set, Tim wanted to push through that Tao was a film lover so we collected a load of vintage equipment, old cameras and even wire sculptures of cameras to dot around his bedroom. Tim found a gridded wallpaper to use as the base to line up all the wall elements with and it flowed from there - LED lighting behind the bed, cool perspex shelves to display his collection of cameras on - it all came together and was the perfect setting for Tao and Elle’s movie night together!

Tara’s bedroom was one of my favourites - the script said she was surrounded by stuffed toys - so we went to town and covered her entire bed in 40 teddy bears! We also got to work on a snippet of Isaacs bedroom as he sits against a wall (classically) head in a book! With all of the sets, we tried to get a lived in look going by washing bedding on a high heat and leaving out to air dry and putting them on the beds unironed. It’s all in the detail!

Harry’s 16th Birthday party is where it all comes together so we had to make it fabulous! When Designer Tim asked us to arrange Balloons all over the exterior of this magical building I knew exactly who to call. Our fabulous Balloon Queen Jane and team were up for the task! We had some coloured balloon samples sent to our office and plotted out where the balloons would go on a print out of the building. There were 1000’s of Balloons inflated indoors the day before filming and then were strung out of windows for the shot when Charlie arrives at the party in his dad’s car.

Another challenge on this set was to recreate Floral arrangements from the books when Charlie and Nick have their first kiss. I took note of Alice’s illustrations and I knew Jenny Tobin (Florist to the stars!) could do them justice. We referenced Daisies and meadow flowers with their big relaxed droopy heads and floppy leaves. It was important to us the florals were friendly and approachable instead of stiff and corporate. Charlie and Nick run off to find a quiet spot to catch up at the party and we wanted to try and match the florals here to Alice’s Illustrations as best we could in real life. A lot of thought goes into everything we put on screen and most of the florals in Heartstopper are Jenny’s brilliant work.

Towards the end of our shoot schedule, in the middle of Summer we started work on the Herne Bay / Pier sets. Our designer Tim had some amazing mood boards of truly British Seaside scenes so we set about pulling in all the various items we’d need to recreate that. Our production buyer Zoe found some fantastic sealife balloons that we thought harked back to our Art Classroom sculptures (we love a throwback reference!) and we filled baskets with all sorts of things you’d find at the seaside. From buckets and spades, through to pool noodles and parasols - if its on a beach we had it.

One of the final scenes we filmed was the merry-go-round fairground ride that was (inside scoop!) filled with crew!! Safe to say, by the 5th time round I was feeling like I was about to vomit but it was far too late to get off as we were already filming and I was right in the back of shot.

Of course there are plenty of other sets that we worked on for the show that I haven’t gone into detail about but overall we worked to create a fully realised splash of queer teen British loveliness throughout. I was continually humbled by the 110% our team put into every day at work on this project, we really were all working at a million miles per hour to make the visual the best we could and try to do Alice’s brilliant world justice.

All said and done, I hope our side of the story has come through in the props and set dressing for the better! It was a massively exciting project to work on and myself and our fantastic production buyer Zoe felt a huge responsibility to Alice, the fans and the LGBTQI+ community to inject as much vibrancy and life into these sets as we could. We knew from the start how groundbreaking this show would be for Netflix and our community as a whole. We made sure we took extra care selecting every one of the thousands of items we put into the sets and felt so lucky to have Tim, Alice, Patrick, Zorana and Euros to guide us each step of the way.

We could not have done it if it wasn’t for the inspiring framework our designer, Tim Dickel had set out for the visuals for the show - his endless creativity and passion for storytelling is compelling and bursts through every scene! Most importantly, we had a tonne of fun pulling it all together which is really, what it’s all about.

As always with the LGBT+ projects I work on, we stand on the shoulders of the giants who have come before us and we pay immense gratitude to everyone in the queer space past and present who have created work to better the community we all belong to.

#heartstopper #heartstopper series #Maxwell fine #set decoration #I have lifted the photos and text directly from the web post because I couldn't find a source anywhere else #I just wanted to hold it as reference #there's nothing quite as fascinating as the character of the sets inside a show/movie #it's all in the little details - and to fill a set you need HUNDREDS and nothing has gotten in there just by accident #I could pore over sets for hoursss if I was allowed and to listen to every item being talked about for the why and who and where of it all #SIGN ME UP.#I love that the carousel scene at the end is mostly cast because what a gem of a scene to highlight the growth and the build and the coming #together of nick and Charlie to that point in time #and in terms of the show itself - they couldn't have had that without the incredible team involved #also see me LOVING how Maxwell Fine talks about the differences between nick andcharlie's bedrooms and the thoughts on those UGH YES #set design

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screammdesiree · 5 months

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Hello there tumblr. It's almost like talking to an old friend again for the first time in years. A simple website turned into a diary that I wrote hours into the pages, some days those pages even wrote me. I was 14 year old when tumblr found me one dark and lonely night, a suggestion for an outlet by an old friend. Someone thought enough of how I was feeling, to suggest a place where my dark thoughts, long nights, unheard thoughts, sweaty palms, and aching heart, would have their own safety. I guess the thing I didn't account for was that some silly website would outlive the very person who brought it into my world. That I'd be back here some 9 years later, feeling just the same way I did at 14. Who would have thought, that returning here to once again spill my heart like blood soaking the pages of a book only I'd ever read? How silly. Returning somewhere that isn't physical, but the only place that feels like home. Logging in feels like keys jingling against the front door in the dark as we slink inside. Seeing things I'd written on the good days, feeling like taking off my wet shoes and leaving them beside the door. Scrolling through the most insignificant things I'd reposted, simply because they made me laugh, is the feeling of taking off your coat and placing it on a hook next to the door, and feeling how warm and cozy the house is. Although, not every home is happy and those moments come and go. Reading the things I wrote on the bad days is like hearing your parents scream at eachother at 8 years old in your room with your hands over your ears until. Reading about all the emotional damage I did to the soft and sweet 14 year old me, is like cutting your feet on glass after your father throws a cup of coffee, blood tricking from your foot as you run fingertips along the wall at the bottom of the stairs, wondering what could have been so bad. Sometimes coming home just isn't as comforting as it should be. There are days when coming home means it's because you're on hospice there to die where you're most comfortable. I guess I should be going into more detail, considering I came here to talk to myself, because there is no one to talk to anymore. Ive simply run them all away. Ah wait there it is. The thing that keeps bringing me back here."I've simply run them all away." Sound familiar tumblr? Sound like anything I've said here before? Down right deja vu here for me.

Sweet girl I know you've had this thought before, but let me ask you when is the last time you felt this pain sober? I mean honestly. When's the last time sober you came here to try to avoid openly saying how badly you want to end your life. Not disappear. Not start over. Not run away. But just simply die.

ISNT IT SCARING YOU THAT YOURE THIS CALM SAYING THAT YOU SOBERLY WANT TO END YOUR LIFE?!

Stupid question because even asking myself that question. I'm not afraid. Shockingly it isn't even because I think I'd see him on the other side of this life. It's because I failed to understand in all the things he said to me in those days. Now I get it. I get why he didn't wanna smoke with me and why taking a drink was simply unheard of in his final thoughts. He wanted to be entirely clear minded when he took his life, I get it. The peace that a sober thought of not being alive anymore will bring is terrifying but so so so calming. Just understanding that those thoughts shouldn't cross your mind with a smile, and the genuine happiness the thought brings me is absolutely disgusting.

But here I am again.

They say "think about in ten years when.." but it's been ten years and I'm still thinking and hoping that I'm gonna wake up and be happy I survived. I'm waiting. That feeling won't come if it hasn't already. There are some things you just softly come to terms with as you cry alone in a room with a house full of people.

Some days will be harder than others but your day will come where you will finally have the courage to pull the trigger and bring yourself peace.

I think I'd like the background of my death to be highlighted in sad Taylor swift songs.

Play the saddest songs at my funeral, that's the only way anyone will cry over me.

Who am I kidding, I don't even think my mom would come. My dad wouldn't be able to bring himself to come. My sister won't even be able to get herself out of bed, and my other siblings will probably not even know.

I don't want them to bring my kids though. I would probably rather they think I just abandoned them. They would be better for them right? I don't know.

#tw depressing stuff

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inkribbon796 · 2 years

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Egotober 2022 Day 24: Thriller Night

Summary: Harvest Day is a special festival in the city, that unfortunately for the heroes they would get to attend all of it on this particular year.

A/N: Hey, look, it’s that Silver vs zombie raccoon story I promised literally years ago.

Prompt: Zombie

Characters: Silver, Marvin, Jackie, Iplier, Robbie

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

~::~ Ten Years Ago ~::~

The city liked to throw a little Harvest Day Festival about a week before Halloween. Silver liked to make an appearance. One, because he just loved the holiday and liked to make a little game about how to dress up and keep his identity hidden. And two, because sometimes he and the other heroes were a good deterrent against teen vandalism.

Villains were also attracted to large groups of people, so that was an additional third reason. The vandalism was more common.

Silver was talking to people when a little ten-year-old boy ran over, his mother not far behind him.

“Silver! It’s Silver, mommy.” The little boy had on a striped black and white shirt and zombie make-up on his face.

“Hey little guy,” Silver knelt down to get closer to him, making a glancing check at his mother before looking back at the kid. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Robbie,” he smiled.

“Well, nice to meet you Robbie,” Silver smiled.

Robbie asked Silver to sign his little treat bag and Silver did before Robbie’s mom thanked him and after a bit led Robbie away to the rest of the furniture. Silver would not see the boy or his mother for the rest of the night. But they would meet again. When Robbie was older and being taken under Henrik’s wing as his apprentice. But for now, the little boy in his zombie make-up walked away, and Silver went about watching the crowd. Making sure no one was causing too much trouble. A little bit was okay, but a fight was something else.

Marvin and Jackie had arrived as well an hour in. Something about Anti being spotted in the area so Silver was braced for Anti to show up and attack someone. There were a lot of families here, some with young children. Silver saw at least two wheel chaired children, one young teen with a crutch, and three parents or grandparents with walkers. He mentally labeled them as high priority because in a rush of stampede they wouldn’t be able to evacuate as quickly.

He was relaying that to Jackie and Marvin when Silver heard the first scream. It wasn’t Anti. Anti, against all odds, decided to wait until Halloween to cause trouble that year. He already had a target he was working on torturing and one Halloween night the heroes would find that body in the man’s house. Tonight, Silver was racing off to find the common and he saw one of the rogue mages that like to terrorize the city on occassion. She was older and she and Marvin had a bit of a rivalry. But normally she was a petty thief and attacked when provoked.

Tonight she was pulling a screaming child along.

Silver flew over and snatched the child away, the small boy was shaking and clutching onto a little squirrel plushie he was holding. The kid was in a little red cape and a fake crown.

“Hey! Hey!” Silver shouted and the mage took off. Jackie and Marvin followed after her as she turned into a bird and flew off.

“Kay!”

The boy in his arms began screaming and crying and Silver quickly let him go so he could run over to the man coming over to them. He was in a warm coat and the kid threw himself into the man’s arms as he cried. The man had dark hair and a mustache and beard.

“Kaylor, you cannot stray that far from me,” the man said and looked back at Silver cautiously.

“He alright?” Silver asked.

“Clearly not,” the man said, holding the boy close to him.

“Everyone else alright?” Silver asked.

“Yes, I took my eye off of him for a second to talk to one of his brothers,” the man said. “People steal children all the time in this town, I should have kept a better eye on him.”

“We stopped it tonight,” Silver promised. “Tonight is better.”

“Right,” the man said. “Come along Kay, your siblings will be happy to see you’re safe.”

The small boy didn’t say anything, just clinging to his father’s jacket and sniffling.

“Hope you have a better night,” Silver said.

The man picked the boy up when he didn’t move to pull away. Then he turned to Silver. “Thank you, though.”

“It’s my job, happy to do it,” Silver said as Damien turned away from Silver, thankful that the hero wasn’t good at seeing through magical glamor.

Silver zipped back to try and find Jackie and Marvin and they were standing in front of an above ground sewer entrance.

“She in there?” Silver asked, hovering just above the ground.

“Yeah, bracing myself to have to burn another costume,” Marvin groaned.

“Not liking how she just tried to abduct a kid, that’s new,” Silver said.

Eager to fish the witch back out, Silver started to move into the sewer, taking off his cape and folding it into his pocket in his suit. The superhero called out into the foul smelling tunnel as he flew in, trying to listen.

They weren’t deep into the sewer system but it was enough to smell it. Marvin’s magic chased after him to cover his mouth and head protectively from disease and dampen the smell just enough.

“Hey, why are you so far in town?” Silver asked as he tried to listen for movement, braced for attack. “Thought you hated people.”

“What have you done?” The Witch’s voice seemed to bounce off all the walls.

“Don’t know, you’re the one suddenly kidnapping kids,” Silver said.

“That is no child, not anymore,” she said. “And now I will not get another chance.”

“That’s good,” Silver said. “No more kidnapping kids. The theft of magical ingredients, I get, but I’m not going to let you kidnap people.”

“Then my revenge shall be just,” she said and finally Silver spotted magic being casted in the darkness. Before he could fly in, something was lifting out of the rushing river of sewage.

It was a huge raccoon, almost as big as Silver was. It looked like it was sewn together and the eyes were white. The stretch of death somehow managed to overpower the festering odor of sewage.

The zombified, giant raccoon jumped and the witch escaped.

Marvin flew in to help him and together the two were able to vanquish the zombie raccoon. It died and Silver was suffering some bad-looking bite wounds. And they rushed him over to the clinic that Dr. Iplier was working at.

It was late, and the man was about to go home when Jackie and Marvin came in without costumes. Marvin still had a simple cloth mask covering his mouth and nose.

Dr. Iplier froze when he saw them.

“Hey, Doc,” Mark smiled sheepishly, out of his Silver Shepherd costume entirely.

“The fuck happened to you?” Dr. Iplier demanded. “Why do all of you smell like shit?”

“Funny you say that,” Jack smiled. With his mask gone, Iplier almost couldn’t recognize him.

Iplier rolled his eyes but ushered them in to clean and more importantly disinfect Silver and Marvin’s wounds. And then get them both all kinds of shots set up. Rabies and tetanus shots were given to both with other shots coming the next week as an “extra precaution for the idiots swimming in shit stew” as Iplier called it.

Within a week Iplier would stop being angry at them, and start laughing about the idea of them being beaten up by a demon raccoon in the sewers. He’d laugh specifically at Silver because they had a longer report together.

It’d be all fun and games until Silver started to turn into a zombie from his bites, which was cured the same day he presented symptoms but Jackie wound up breaking his arm in the struggle to subdue the hero. Two doors, three door frames, and a wall would also be destroyed in the fight.

Not the worst day in the base, but it would get more laughs out of Iplier so it wasn’t a complete disaster.

#Egotober2022 #Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Silver Shepherd #marvin the magician #jackieboy man #robbie the zombie #Dr. Iplier #zombie animals #magic #brief child kidnapping #child!Robbie #child!King of the Squirrels

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dubulgeandtaebooty · 1 year

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Tw vent and death (and a little bit of family business)

I was 10 years old when my brother was fatally killed by gang members. Even 8 years later, I could still vividly recall the while entire event like a videotape. The cries of help, the blood pouring out of his body that would drip all over the floor, the knife that killed him, the laughter of his killers as they run away hoping that they wouldn’t be found, the sound of ambulance coming to take him to the hospital as I told him that I loved him as police officers took me away from him. His last words to me was “Takashi, I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry about me. Go home.”

He died on his way to the hospital at just aged 14. He was sending drugs to Manchester, Liverpool, all over the UK, just to make some ends meet. My dad was abusive to us and our mom and so she turned into an alcoholic and he would leave us for another woman. This would be how we would have food into the table. He would earn some money so he would pay the rent that mom would purposely forget to do so. However, one of those days he was caught and had to go to prison for few months. Because he didn’t do his job, they tracked him down and killed him. I saw it all.

A month after he passed away, my mom went along too. Guess who found her body? Me. I saw her lifeless body in the living room when I came home and remembered shaking her in hopes she would wake up, but she never did. Just seeing her pale body haunts me as well as my brother screaming. I will never get those images out of my head and they’ll be with me for the rest of my life.

I couldn’t even listen to drill music knowing that this is the kind of shit my brother’s killers listen to. Seeing those people in masks and holding some sort of weapon gives me flashbacks and makes me wanna throw up on the spot. I hate seeing people die for the same reason, especially if it’s someone around the same age as my brother. I hate seeing this shit going all over the news. I get terrible anxiety attacks whenever I even think about something as simple as a knife. But what can I do? Every single day, I have to deal with my triggers being around me 24/7. I’m seeing drill music and remixes getting popular on Tiktok, knives are basically everywhere and those films that depict gang violence, they’re everywhere.

This is why I find it so funny that here on Tumblr I’m seeing people in their 20s crying about people using the wrong hashtag when there are serious shit happening in this world such as their family members or friends dying and they have to watch that shit whilst you are able to view the censored version online. Consider yourself privileged. I didn’t get to see a “TW” before my brother died or even saw it pixelated. I saw it raw. I could even hear the squelching sounds of the knife going in and out of him. Trust me, I could hear everything and it’s very uncomfortable for me to sit through this every single fucking day of my life. It was so bad that I even resorted to drugs and taking my own life. Trust me, it fucking sucks. I don’t even wish this upon my worst enemy.

How can you be so lost in your head that you think the internet can help you with your first world problems? Life doesn’t have a trigger warning, it just happened. If god knew that my brother was going to die today, he would just put a “TW” before my day started. It was just a normal day just like any other day. I got out of bed and I did my morning routine. That very day, I went home from my friend’s house and saw him running across the street. I thought he was trying to catch the bus, but I was dead wrong. He was running for his life.

As someone with extreme PTSD, the fanfics in the #ptsdrecovery does affect me. I find it so damn stupid if they do so, especially if they showcase the actual scene of the gang violence in vague detail. However, the only people I could let them off are newbies to this app. I understand how different the app it is to an app like Instagram or something. I do it too when I go on Instagram and I would under tag because I don’t know how their algorithm works. It’s all human error and they could learn not to do it again, but for those that deliberately do it, especially for many years, they piss me the fuck off.

But here’s the thing, Tumblr isn’t your free therapy session. There are full of people with different coping mechanisms and strategies. If Tumblr was to cater only to those who get triggered over fanfictions showing up on recovery tag, then is it even a freedom of speech app? Tell me if that’s fair to ban anyone who has reading or making fanfictions as a coping mechanism just because one person feels entitled to their problems and puts the blame on others. Although it is super frustrating that we have to deal with this, there’s nothing we could do. We could tell people to make another hashtags to be specific which is #ptsdrecoveryfanfics but what would you do if you see one anyways?

See the problem isn’t the users, it’s your mindset. It’s not our responsibility to stop you from getting triggered, it’s you. People are just living their lives the way they do and so they shouldn’t be obligated to follow by your rules only. I mean, do you think I tell my friends not to play drill music when I’m around? Do I tell stores to not sell knives just because I get triggered by it. No. Unfortunately, I have to move on. No matter how hard it is, I do need to continue with my life. Trust me, this is not an easy task. Having to move on like it was a small inconvenience in my life was difficult, which is why I had go to cognitive behavioural therapy, take some meds and so much shit just so I could live my normal life.

Even now, I could still imagine the scene one and on again, and it makes me want to live in the past. It’s not just I want to see him again, I just wished I stayed at my friend’s house for much longer. Maybe if I was there for few more minutes, I would only have the memory of him going to the hospital. If I went back to get my charger for my phone, I wouldn’t be aching to have this image in my head.

But what could I do? It has already happened. This just taught me a valuable lesson. If you are able to watch things with a trigger warning and a blur hiding the horrifying scene, then you’re privileged. There are people dying in wars, most notably, in Ukraine. Families are dying, friends are getting lost, people losing strangers they had met just few hours ago. You could meet someone and not know if this is the last time you’ll see them or not. They don’t get to have their deaths blurred. Sone people would see their loved ones in brutal conditions that their bodies are fully mutated that it doesn’t even look like them anymore. Even if they weren’t there, that image would stay with them for the rest of their lives.

There are SERIOUS things that are happening in this world and the only thing those, mind I tell you, ADULTS harassing literal newbies in this app just because they used the wrong tag for their fanfiction posts. And for them to be so entitled to think that Tumblr is all about them and them only because they’re right and they know everything. NO THE FUCK YOU DON’T. This is a first world problem that YOU’RE dealing with. There are millions of people starving to death because they cannot afford to bring food into their plates. There are women and girls getting raped into this day because there are asshole men that wants to take advantage of them and that pisses me the fuck up seeing the fucked up things they do to these people, and your only problem are people using the wrong tags whether it’s an accident or not?

I’ve fucking seen everything. I watched my parents fight, my brother’s unlawful death, I saw my mother’s lifeless body on the couch at the living room, my dad left me meaning that me and my sisters had to go move with my grandparents. I bullied at school for being Asian, gay and fat. I was once beaten up to the point where I was hospitalised. It happened in 2020 too during the pandemic. Everyone called me “ching-chong” and told me to go back to where I came from. In the pandemic version, they also told me to kill myself. Then, my sister got raped. That got me sick to my stomach seeing how differently she acted. I also saw her get abused by her boyfriend and I had to step in and beat him up. I was stabbed on the arm by the one thing I was scared of, a knife. He happily called me faggot and chink as I was in excruciating pain. I don’t know how I could explain it, but it was not good.

At this point, I had a big hatred towards the world. However, you only have one life and you gotta live it. I could of chose to be chronically online just like the rest of us on Tumblr, or I could continue fighting and living my life. I chose to be in the real world, because once it’s gone, there’s no going back. I have my friends with me and a crush in my class. I chose to live my life because that was the only thing I could do. I don’t like being online as much, but this is why I only go there to protect my friends.

To give you a summary because some Tumblr users are retarded, I agree with said post and I had stated clearly how I felt about fanfictions going into recovery tags. The only thing I said was that I would understand if it was a newbie. If it was someone who casually does it despite knowing that they shouldn’t do that, then they should know what’s coming. Newbies are NEW to this app. They probably came from an app like Instagram. As someone with extreme PTSD, I’ll forgive them, especially if it’s their first time overtagging because they simply didn’t know how this app works. If it’s someone who has been doing it for years and hasn’t changed ever since, then yes I could understand why you can get mad at them. Unless if you’re mentally retarded, everyone should agree with this whether you hate people overtagging or not. No newbies are going to search up “how to tag on tumblr.” It’s just not realistic. What’s really going to happen is that they’re going to overtag or use the wrong tags and if someone can nicely explain it to them that they shouldn’t be tagging like that, then they’ll take it seriously and quit it. They’re human too and they’ll understand it. They aren’t going to listen to a crazy looking blogger screaming in dms because they aren’t going to take it seriously. This is just facts. But also, I feel like the people who are triggered, they kinda have to do their part as well. Like I said earlier, people aren’t obligated to give a trigger warning or help you when you get triggered. If they do however, it’s out of luck. Most people (especially in the real world) doesn’t give a shit about you. You wanna know why? They’re too busy into their own lives that they aren’t going to censor every word you are triggered over just so they could protect your precious feelings. This is life and you have to live by its rules. If you see something triggering, it’s up to you with how you go about it. If I was to see knives, I’ll just use filtered tags or words. Of course, you’ll still gonna see some regardless. This is because you cannot run away from reality. You’ll have to face it one day.

I know for some people it’s hard to digest, so I made an even dumber version of the summary. Crosstagging is bad. However, newbies can be forgiven because they didn’t know. not to. Of course newbies could search on google “how to tag posts” but it’s not realistic. Realistically, they will post and then figure out when someone tells them. If you do, it is better for you to explain it nicely and clearly so they would know for the next time not to overtag. But, if it’s someone who has been in this app for many years and wouldn’t stop, then yes, it is bad and they should be banned. But nonetheless, you need to help yourself too. Go to settings and put filter tags or words so you can hide certain posts you don’t want to see. There are very little things you could do in this situation, which means that you’ll need to face the harsh reality one day that not everything is censored and so you’ll see things that are uncensored.

Sorry for the language. I just had been so stressed lately. I think I’m gonna take a break from using this app.

#serious post #dni unless we know each other #but you can like my post if you agree #if you don’t please don’t interact #rant #vent #death tw #vent tw #rant tw #domestic violence tw #war mention #rape mention #abuse mention #childhood trauma tw #gang violence tw #reality tw #harsh reality #long reads

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the-amalgam-house · 10 months

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Fuck the fucking thoughts! The last memories I have of my dad pre-addiction pre-anger explosions were literally worn I was SIX years old... he became a cop with I was 8, I have no idea where 7 went, and he started drinking and being incredibly angry and just.

He'd been that way ever since. I know it's PTSD. It manifests in anger and alcoholism. Even now he has so much trouble keeping away, even if overall he's softened on the after part.

My brother never really got to see him without the drink and without the anger. His whole entire self aware life had just been that version of Papi. He never got to see the man I knew. There's still a good bit of that man in there and you can see it in his tender/sober/stable moments. He loves children and he's always had this sense of pride and being self sufficient. But my siblings never really got to see the non angry man that was our dad. I was old enough to remember.

The drinking poisoned him...or, well, the police force maybe did it first. Idk. He hurt us so much, and honestly I can only be but so mad at him now, knowing that he himself was hurting. Hurt people hurt people after all. And you can never again be a previous version of yourself, so there's no real use in wishing there was. It's just grief that keeps coming back, over and over again.

I can remember him setting up a little treasure nap game in the back yard. Michael was in a carrier and Nina and I were given a hand drawn map to figure out where the hidden items were. I remember Papi going outside in the cold when I couldn't just to build a snowman while I watched in the window. He'd throw snowballs at that window to make me laugh. I remember when he helped me to not be afraid of the sharks in the aquarium by carrying me and holding close while we got closer, and realized the glass was keeping us safe. That Papi would keep me safe from the sharks. He did the same with me for thunder storms, tho I was too young to remember that one.

I remember how utterly severely upset I was when he had to go back to NY for 2 weeks after we moved to VA. I felt like I would never see him again. Probably the second most traumatic thing I'd faced in my life up to that point, the first being invasive and painful allergy testing when I was...idk, like 5. I remember him when he was initially softened by having kids. That was probably roughly the last time I remember all of us being as close to completely happy as I was able to comprehend.

I remember the time he and Mami got into one of their many screaming matches. Mami was made to walk outside, Papi locked the door. Mami banged on the door for what seemed like forever, and I went out of my room to try to help. But Papi was still awake, and threatened to hit me off I didn't go back to bed. I froze in fear, until he gave in and told me to open the front door. Mami had to hide her anger and sadness when it was me who opened the door and not him.

I remember calling for his help when Mikey was hitting me. I was crying already and Papi was the only adult in the house, but he was sleeping. 12 and 14 hour shifts as an officer, and the rule was not to wake him up. But who else could I have cried to for help? So he woke up, hit me with a belt for waking him up, then hit my brother 5 or 6 times for hitting me. Mikey doesn't remember it, but for me it's clear as day.

I remember Papi completely trashing our room (Nina and I shared a room our whole life then), just because we didn't clean it like ye wanted. My cute hand made candles had been crushed under the bookshelf they had been decorating just outside the bedroom, now sitting in a heap in the middle of the floor. Michael said it happened twice, but I only remember once.

I remember the times he would punch walks, Break Michael's door, throw and break glass. Blood everywhere. From age 9 to 22. Flying into a rage at the drop of a hat, everyone being so afraid of him even if he didn't physically hurt us (not after age 10). When she was at her lowest, Mami did the same to him. It didn't help, but she reached her limit. I remember her worry when I punched and broke my flimsy tin closet door. She was going to chase him, but the sound scared her and she came to me instead.

I remember, only after being reminded by my brother, when they were both out drinking and promised to be back to make dinner and couldn't come back, so I had to come up with dinner instead. I had to be maybe 11 or 12. I still don't actually fully remember it, because it wasn't me, but it's a vague feeling in my mind now.

I remember feeling so worthless and hopeless that I couldn't get to my baby brother, having to be alone in his own room, while Nina and I had each other to cry with. I remember two years after he left the force, and the same year he almost died, was the first time I truly wanted to kill myself. I'd always thought about running away before, but couldn't leave my mom and siblings behind. I'd thought about telling my dad I hated him, but it wasn't true and I was afraid anyway. I thought the only solution would be if I just stopped existing cause I couldn't take it anymore. How sad is that? A freshman in high school wanting to die cause the drunk father they once looked up to became unbearably abusive.

He wouldn't call it abuse though. He had it much worse, as he would often bring up. He was abused, but wouldn't call it abuse either, at least not what his mom did. She used to be a really rough woman, tho I've only known her to be soft and sweet in my lifetime.

I remember when I found out what really happened to my dog, my best friend, Tymber. How Papi was so angry after a long shift that he threw my dog against a wall and broke his leg. That I never got to see my only friend again cause the vet didn't want to send him back to an abusive home. That happened just before I turned 12, and I didn't learn the truth until about 19-ish. Do you know how devastated I was? I still have a picture of him somewhere, my little puppy, barely a year old and terrified of my dad, just like the rest of us.

I do remember some good times too. He tried to make up for all the work time with high quality time together. We watched DBZ every week. He took us on father-kid trips both in a group and individually. He liked taking us to amusement parks and carnivals when he could. He danced with me at my sweet 16, and took me to walk around downtown after. We did have some good times, and I love him.

I just hate everything he did to us. I hate that he can't even remember it. I hate that alcohol has eaten away at his mind for over 20 years and you can see how it's poisoned him. I hate what his family did to him.

#toby talk #trauma dump time

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lavender-rosa · 2 years

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koyuki and shinobu!!

So Shinobu first!

Favourite things about them 🦋: Her design is my favourite one out of the entire series, the purple, the pastel monarch butterfly haori that she is wearing that makes her look like she floats when she moves, it all screams elegance and I love it.

It is also a subtle nod to her fighting style as monarch butterflies are poisonous and poison is usually associated with the colour purple. Her eyes in the manga have a crosshatch design on them that makes them look like the eyes of an insect, and even the design of her sword mimics a bee stinger. Such a creative and well-thought out design.

More Shinobu praise under read more

Outside of her design Shinobu is a literal kid genius. She created her own breathing style and was an expert in pharmaceuticals and clinical toxicology when she was just a kid.

She trains herself, trains Kanao, slays demons, makes her own poisons, makes her own medicine, runs an entire household that is also a place to treat the sick and the wounded and she heals her own patients, someone give this girl a vacation.

What i also love about her is how Shinobu wears this sickly sweet, polite facade in an attempt to emulate and honour Kanae. She bottles up her grief, her pain, her rage, her hatred, she tries to kill her real self in order to mimic her dead sister which comes off as incredibly off-putting.

But just because Shinobu is full of hatred and rage it doesn't mean she is not kind, she deeply cares about people and seeing those people in pain further aids her anger. Her rage is born out of her empathy. She will heal but she will also rot someone from the inside out, she is medicine and poison.

Also her plan is so incredibly sad. A 14 year old girl has her sister die in front of her and at this moment decides that she will throw her entire life away for the sake of vengeance, she is just so exhausted and enranged by the constant losses that she deems herself someone who is too broken to attempt living a normal life, she turns her body into a living weapon, she bottles up all her negative emotions, she figuratively wears her dead sister's face and in the end she commits suicide by letting herself be killed by the man who took Kanae from her. Shinobu is one of the most tragic characters in kny i take no criticism.

Least favourite thing about them 🦋: This is less about her and more about how her writing is framed. Like in the paragraph above i describe a tragedy but the manga decides to portray it as oddly heroic? Like yeah her suicide greatly helped in Douma's defeat but it's still suicide. You said in your own post that kny has a problem with it's portrayal of suicide and it definetely applies to her.

It's especially egregious when Kanae, the same girl that begged Shinobu with tears in her eyes on the verge of death to quit the corps and lead a normal life, suddenly in the middle of the fight against Douma would encourage Shinobu to further self destruct and would accept her in the afterlife without even the tiniest bit of confrontation.

Yes, of course Kanae would eventually accept her in the afterlife, but imo it would have been less ooc if Kanae when reunited with Shinobu in was crying, angry at her for throwing her life away for the sake of vengeance, blaming herself for not being able to somehow prevent this, have the two sisters converse, come to an understanding, have Kanae tearfully embrace Shinobu and then they reunite with their parents. (something similar to Muichiro's and Yuichiro's scene).

Favourite Line 🦋: Yes, I am angry, Tanjiro. I’ve been angry the whole time. My parents were killed. My sister was killed. My disciples except Kanao were killed. Those girls, they must have lived calm lives with their families if their families weren’t killed by demons. Pisses me off. Screw you, idiot. Why do my poisons not work on you, bastard!

brOTP 🦋: with Giyuu <3

Also I think we should have actually seen her develop a friendship with Inosuke, instead of briefly mentioning it in a flashback.

OTP 🦋: *chanting* Shinomitsu, Shinomitsu, Shinomitsu-

nOTP 🦋: with Douma for reasons I hope are obvious. But sister murder aside, i think one of the reasons why i don't find this appealing is how Douma seems to be slightly amused at best and utterly apathetic and mocking at worst in regards to his attitude towards her. (Well except in the end where he suddenly develops feelings for her while in purgatory which ermm let's just say I greatly prefer your version where he meets his parents instead).

Also notp with Giyuu (see above picture)

Random Headcanons 🦋:

🦋 She is an autistic lesbian (Gotouge told me so)

🦋 In canon the first time she meets Tanjiro she offers to kill Nezuko with a soft, gentle poison unlike the very painful ones she usually uses. I wondered why Shinobu would be in posession of such a thing, so I headcanon that Kanae suggested to Shinobu to develop a gentler poison to use on surrendering demons (similar to water breathing's fifth form). After Kanae's death Shinobu still makes a small batch of this gentle poison to honor her. She has used it in some very rare instances.

🦋 On the rare occasions Shinobu has some free time she sometimes spends that time with Mitsuri. They bake in Mitsuri's kitchen, using her recipes and then they eat the sweets they made together while exchanging ghost stories.

(Shinobu's ghost stories always end up creeping Mitsuri out, while Mitsuri's ghost stories are more silly than scary)

Unpopular opinions 🦋:

1) I dislike it when people make kny aus where Kanae is alive yet they still make Shinobu act like this saccharine sweet, patient, never outwardly angry person despite the fact that the only reason Shinobu acted like this in the main series was due to Kanae's death.

Shinobu's character progression from this brash,honest, spitfire to the demure fairy is not a natural one caused by growing up it's a self destructive act of grief and it wouldn't make sense for Shinobu to wear this mask if her sister is alive.

(And like i do not blame the fans too much for this since Gotouge also does this with Kimetsu Gakuen sacrificing character consistency for marketability but i also hate it when they do it lol)

2) I think that the rooftop scene with Tanjiro shouldn't have happened. Just because Tanjiro is our protagonist it shouldn't mean that he must be connected to every character's interpersonal drama. It just seems too ooc to me that a character as emotionally closed off as Shinobu would confess all her trauma,pain and suffering to someone she barely knows. It would make more sense for her to tell all of that to Mitsuri who is canonically her best friend.

Songs I associate with them 🦋:

Angry too- Lola Blanc

Goodbye- Ramsey

Bitter Choco Decoration- Miyashita Yuu

Favourite pictures of them 🦋:

Koyuki

Favourite things about them ❄: First of all I love how cute her design is (like pink eyes with white flower shaped pupils??? genius 🥰) but I also love how it connects to Akaza. Her eyes and her kimono are pink just like Akaza's hair, she wears a snowflake hairpin and her kimono has a snowflake pattern on it, and Akaza's compass needle is shaped like a snowflake. Her design helps to visually connect her to him and it's also extremely sad how Akaza still subconsciously carries her memory with him even if he doesn't remember her anymore.

And she is just a genuinely kindhearted, sweet kid that died way too soon. Her romance turned tragedy with Hakuji is absolutely heartwrenching. They gave each other hope for a better future, a future they never managed to fully live out due to human cruelty. Her and Keizo's murder was the event that fully killed Hakuji's humanity and in the end it wasn't Muzan who made Akaza, humans did...

She is also like, the only reason Giyuu and Tanjiro are not dead. They were both too fatigued to continue fighting, Akaza at this point had become fully immune to beheading and was ready to deal the killing blows, had Koyuki's ghost not interrupted him and forced him to remember Tanjiro and Giyuu would be ⚰⚰. Koyuki is the real mvp of the fight.

Least favourite thing about them ❄: I don't have anything to say, she is a minor character present for 3-4 chapters so i can't really come up with anything to say here. The only admittedly self indulgent fault i can find with her is that we don't have more canon content of her.

Favourite line ❄: "Thank you Hakuji, You've done enough."

This line will fucking wreck me when voice acted.

BrOTP ❄: Since she doesn't interact with anyone who isn't Hakuji or her dad in canon, we are going to Kimetsu Gakuen for brotps. She deserves to form friendships with girls her age like Kanao, Aoi and Ume.

OTP ❄: Take a wild guess

Random Headcanons ❄:

She really wanted to have a cat as a pet but she couldn't due to her allergies.

The snowflake hairpin she wears was a gift from Hakuji.

Her birthday is on February 28 (last day of winter) making her a Pisces.

Unpopular Opinion ❄: I already mentioned on how i think her and Hakuji are the only canonical romantic kny pairing that Gotouge didn't manage to fuck up, which is already extremely controversial but I also think she is extremely underrated and I hope that after Akaza's backstory is animated Hakukoyu will become a more popular pairing (I can't keep re-reblogging the same content for them over and over again guys 😭)

Songs I associate with them ❄:

Goodbye Mr. Flower Thief (kurattes made an awesome akaza animatic on it)

When I'm gone- Joey+Rory (this song is not really my thing but it is about a dying woman singing to her lover so...)

Favourite pictures of them ❄:

#thank you for the ask🌸#kny #shinobu #koyuki

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katherynes-rkive · 1 year

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2015 | A Definite End

Considered and reconsidered putting this here for a bit because oh ✨babey✨ this one is embarrassing but that's what this blog is for!!! I am leaving this here the way cats leave dead birds on your doorstep!!! Bon appétit.

Context: I was super Ultra depressed between '14 and '16 and instead of focusing on fixing my own broken life, I just imprinted real hard on an edgy, angsty Minecraft roleplay I was doing with an online friend at the time. Because if I hyperfocused on my Minecraft OC's sadness, I wouldn't have to think about my own. Content warning for suicide I guess. And edgy whining. And the terrible writing of a sixteen-year-old. And an overused Minecraft trope. Also, this was back when the character of Kodan was male. And gay. And somehow pregnant. And also in Minecraft, like honest-to-goodness trapped inside the video game. And in some Stockholm syndrome-esque relationship with Herobrine. The jokes write themselves. Enfin! Putting this under the cut so it doesn't crash this blog.

_______________________

A loud scream escaped Kodan’s mouth when the dull pain in his chest once again changed into the most terrible feeling he’d ever felt. It felt as if… Something powerful was slowly crushing his core… That’s the best he could describe it. He let out another scream, but so deep in the frozen woods there was not a soul to heare him. He dropped to the wooden floor of the cabin, his arms clutched around his chest, shaking and rolling over and over in an attempt to distract himself from the pain.

It lasted a few minutes, then it finally started to dull. After another minute or so the pain had returned to the dull feeling in his core, but it had left the young boy crying and shaking on the ground.

It’s over. It’s over. It’s over- for now… At least.. I- I don’t… I don’t wanna anymore…

It took him some time, but he finally managed to get to his hands and knees. He was still sobbing and his body was trembling uncontrollably. He gagged, wanting to throw up, but nothing came out. It had been nearly two days since he’d last eaten a meal. There was nothing left inside of him to throw up.

He let out a shaky breath and placed his hand over his chest. He drew his core from inside him and held it in his hands. New tears started to sting his eyes.

In the palms of his hands laid the small core. It was about the size of a baseball and although it was almost completely dulled out at that point, it looked like it had once shone a bright green colour. The little light that was still coming from it was flickering weakly, like a lightbulb right before it dies. It had cracks all over and a small piece of it had even fallen off. Kodan slowly traced one of the larger cracks with his thumb. He let out a soft whimper and withdrew his hand as he was greeted with the dull pain becoming slightly sharper.

“… It… A-aha…”

He sniffed, trying to fight back his tears as more of them filled his eyes, but he just couldn’t. How long would it take before it broke, he wondered. He’d accepted that fact a couple of weeks back - it wouldn’t be long before it would split.

… I wonder what.. - what’ll happen… When it does.. I wonder… I wonder what they’ll think…

Kodan shook his head softly and used the back of his arm to wipe off some of the tears.

No. None of them will miss me. Or… Maybe a little… They might…

He sighed and just sat there, staring down at his barely surviving core.

… But you certainly won’t…

He sniffed again, trying to hold back a new fit of tears but failing to do so. After a few seconds they were rolling down his face again.

“I- I’m soO-orryy-Yy….” He whimpered loudly, struggling to speak. “.. I- It’s all my fau-Ult…”

He hung his head, letting his core drop to the wooden floor.

“.. I’m so so-Oorryy..” He cried softly, burying his face in his hands. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help but cry. So he just sat there. Trembling and crying for what felt like forever, in the middle of the snow cloaked forest where nobody would find him and in which the snowstorm of several nights before had covered all of his footprints. When he finally stopped he felt cold and his head was throbbing slightly. He brought his hand to his forehead and massaged the bridge of his nose softly, before returning his gaze to the broken core that laid in front of him.

He felt like he was going into another crying dit at the thought of what would happen, but no tears came. He assumed he had cried so much there were none left to shed. He softly wiped his eyes and cheeks to get rid of what remained of his tears. Then he slowly got up and leaned against the wall of the cabin for support. Do you have a choice? His thoughts echoed.

“… There’s nothing I can do…”

You poor little thing. Broken and left behind like this. Do you really want to wait for your core to break? Do you want to feel that pain until the moment it ends?

Kodan took off the thick jacket and kicked off his shoes. He stood in a simple t-shirt and jeans, nothing more. He had left in such a panic that he’d forgotten to take anything with him… Not that he needed anything, though. He placed the clothing near one of the walls and walked back to his core, picking the small object off the ground. He couldn’t help but lose himself in staring at it again.

Such a strong yet fragile thing… The same thought echoed through his mind. … Barely able to get damaged from impact.. But a heartbreak or a depression can be fatal to it.

“.. I don’t wanna anymore…” He whispered silently to himself. “I just want it to end… It’s enough…” His throat was sore from all the crying and he felt lightheaded. “… It’s enough…”

Why did you ever think you’d be good enough?

“… I don’t kn-oOww…” Kodan whimpered to himself, his voice was shaking and weak. Broken.

C’mon. Think about how it used to be. Did you really think things would be any different here? Think about it. Did you ever have anyone? No. And it was better that way, you got used to it. You were always on your own. Why did you think things would be different here?

Kodan gagged again and bent over, but again there was nothing to throw up. Kodan gagged again and bent over, but again there was nothing to throw up. He clutched his arms around his stomach, holding his core in one of his hands. When he felt like he could walk without collapsing he slowly made his way over to the door and opened it. He was immediately greeted by the cold air. Small flocks of snow were slowly downing on the world. There was no wind, making the it feel less cold. Kodan sat down on the doorstep, his core resting in his lap.

"… I re.. really thought I meant something…" He whispered softly, barely audible even to himself.

I really thought I did… I thought I… I never did… You said it yourself. I'm no different… from anybody else. He let out a shaky breath and shut his eyes, leaning against the door frame.

"… I'm sorry for wa-Asting your t-time all tho-hose months…I'm r-really s-sOrry…" He whimpered to himself. "I-it's all my-Y fault.." New tears began to form in his eyes and soon they were streaming down his face again. ".. I should've known, I should've kno-own… I should've known… I'm so sorry, it's all my fucking fault…" He cried louder, gripping his hair and burying his face in his arms. The boy just sat there on the doorstep of the small humble cabin in the in snow cloaked forest, locked away and hidden. And he just cried.

You should've never trusted him. Why did you…?

You never trusted anyone else. What made him so different?

"I thought he cared… I thought he cared…"

He never did.

"I know.. I kno-oowww, I know…"

This is your own fault. You could have run immediately. Why did you allow yourself to fall in love?

Kodan shook his head. "Wwhyy-Yyy…." He whimpered softly, his voice broke and changed pitches. "I'm so sorry.. I'm so sorry, I sh-should've known betterr-r…" He lifted his core to his face, nuzzling it softly with his nose- careful to not touch any of the cracks. "Y-you..thought I was str..-onger than I was.. I'm soorryyyy…" His core pulsed weakly.

"I'm s-so sorry for wasting your time all tho-O-se months… But it'll all be over soon. Y-you no longer have to worry about.. someone you shouldn't care about.. And you probably don't care about.."

He let out another shaky sigh and finally calmed down.

"No matter what yoOu may think, it's over. Either I end this here, or I wA-ait it out."

He whimpered softly. "I just don't wanna feel the pain anymore..!"

He stood up, still sobbing, and leaned against the door frame for a few seconds to clear his head and find his balance. Then, he set foot outside the cabin and walked into the cold woods. The touch of the snow under his bare feet wasn't chilling to him at all. In fact, he didn't even notice the cold. He was used to it.

He could walk for only a few minutes before his legs started to shake again, unable to carry him. He dropped to his knees.

"I'm s-sorry for causing.. you all this… I'm so sorry…" He whimpered softly. "It's going to be okay… I'm going to end this fo-Or the both of us…"

He managed to get himself back up after sitting on the frozen ground for a minute or so and followed his way further into the woods. He was sobbing softly, not having enough strength left in his body to cry anymore. He stumbled through the trees and the shrubbery, looking for a place he recalled walking by when he ran away. The sun was starting to go down, the dusk swallowing the world under the bare trees.

—

Right after he spotted a long depression in the surface somewhere to his left the same burning pain in his chest welled up again. Kodan growled loudly as he was taken by complete surprise by it and clutched his chest with the hand he wasn't holding his core with. After a few seconds he couldn't bare the feeling any longer and let go of his core, making it fall into the snow by his feet. He wrapped his other arm around himself as well and fell to his knees, his eyes shut tight and breathing heavy. It hurt. Fuck, it hurt so much he couldn't help but start screaming, no matter how hard he tried to keep quiet.

He cursed loudly with his screams. "Ma-Ake it st-OAP!" He begged and let himself fall on his side, his knees pulled up to his chest. The feeling lasted shorter than it had last time and the young boy's screams faded into sobbing and groaning. He got up again and scooped his core off the ground, before turning back to the depression in the ground and walking over. He stopped at the edge and peered into the abyss. In front of him laid a ravine, about a good forty to sixty blocks deep. It stretched widely on both Kodan's left and his right hand. There was no snow on the bottom, the warmth that was hidden under the rock bottom keeping the surface clear.

Kodan shivered and bit his lip. He sat down on the edge, simply staring down into the depression. He was silent. Not even the breeze was there to break the silence.

"… I'm sorry…" Kodan whispered, tears still rolling down his face. He had no choice. "… I'm sorry for causing you all this shit.. You should've just… told me.. or something… I don't know…"

I really thought I was good enough.

… I'm a fucking idiot.

He moved his gaze to his core, which he had again laying in his lap. The light had seemingly completely dulled. Kodan tilted his head to the side a little.

You know it's over. So it's given up.

More tears started to roll down his cheeks to his chin, dripping onto his pants.

No different. Unwanted.

He played around with the core a little, rolling it from side to the other, tapping it softly and whimpering at the stinging pain.

Hated. Forgotten.

He sobbed, this time with actual sound. He kept apologizing, although he had no idea to who. Him? Himself? The others?

Weak.

"… I'm so-O sorry I cou-Uldn't be eno-Ugh… I'm so so-O-orry…" He whimpered, holding his core with his right hand. He wasn't ready to wait until another crack would form. He din't want to. He'd been bearing that pain for months and it had only gotten worse and worse and worse. He didn't want to. Enough was enough, and this was the end.

"I'm sorry I wa-Asn't.. whA-t you ex-X..pected.."

"I don't wa-Aanna anymore… And…"

He tried to smile. ".. And it's going to be-e okay… The pain will e-End… And you-Ure going to be ha..a-Appy…"

Waste.

Yeah. It was all going to be okay. No more pain. No more nothing. He held up his core in front of him in the palms of his hands, above the meters deep ravine. He didn't look down anymore and instead just stared at it.

".. I'm soO-orryy-Yy-Y…" His arms would barely keep up holding the core in front of him. ".. I'm not d-Oing this….."

Burden.

He closed his eyes and hung his head.

"… Goodbye…" He whimpered. ".. Forever…"

He took his core with his right hand and before he gave himself another chance to think, swung the nearly broken thing down into the depression.

Abandoned.

It was as if the world stood completely still for a few seconds. The only thing he could hear was the beating of his own heart inside of his chest. He didn't want to open his eyes.

Alone.

Then the distant sound of his core shattering against the bottom of the ravine reached his ears. Kodan's blood ran ice cold for a few seconds as he just sat there, his eyes wide open and his breath stuck in his throat. His gaze was fixed on the bottom of the ravine that laid underneath him before his vision turned to a blur, and then it blacked out. He felt his body fall and tumble down the ravine, but he was already gone before it hit the ground.

Gone.

#A friend of mine years later: “Yeah I didn't want to tell you at the time but I never read this one because it was so boring.”#You should've told me how bad this was why did you let me post this and humiliate myself

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pixel-mess · 1 year

Text

I AM SO ANGRY RN!

vent under cut

so yesterday, my mom & dad were going to go on a date, and my mom promised me that i would be able to play the stanley parable. now this is great, because if i dont play it every few days my hyperfixation starts to fade. but then, they ended up canceling their date. I asked if i would be able to play the stanley parable and my mom said "no, tomarow"

cut to today, I am excited to finally be able to get a refill on my hyperfixation meter, and i ask "will I be able to play the stanley parable?" and my mom says "tomarow"

WHAT THE FUCK!!?!?!? IM SO OUTRAGED AT THIS

I KNOW I SHOULDNT BE

I KNOW IM JUST BEING A WHINEY BRAT BECAUSE I CANT PLAY VIDEO GAMES

BUT I DONT CARE

I WANT TO PLAY THE STANLEY PARABLE AND SHE HAS BROKEN HER PROMISE TWICE NOW

I GET THAT I SHOULDNT BE ANGRY ABOUT THIS

THERE ARE PEOPLE WITH ACTUAL PROBLEMS!

BUT I STILL AM ANGRY! DESPITE THE FACT THAT I HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE!

ITS FUCKING ABSURD

I HATE ANGER

AND THE WORST PART IS THAT THE STANLEY PARABLE IS A HUGE SORCE OF HAPPYNESS FOR ME RIGHT NOW

I KNOW THATS JADED AND SHALLOW "owww my only sorce of happiness is video games! im such an addict lol!1!!!1" BUT ITS TRUE]

I SHOULDNT BE SO ANGRY

AND IM ANGRY THAT I AM ANGRY

I HATE THIS

I HATE EVERYTHING

I JUST WANT TO SCREAM AND SHOUT AND THROW A TEMPER TANTRUM

BUT I CANT DO THAT

I AM 14 YEARS OLD! I CANT JUST ACT LIKE A CRYING TODDLLER WHENEVER SOMETHING DOESNT GO MY WAY

YET IM STILL ANGRY!!!! WHY!?!?!? WHY!!?!??!?

#anger #swearing #swears #self hatred?#god why cant i just be mature about things

0 notes

nataliesnews · 2 years

Text

An attack on volunteer women 19.10.2022

Yuval Abraham writes about what happened today

Today, masked men lynched a seventy-year-old woman. Her name is Hagar

Gefen. They beat her with clubs until she was bloody, and hit her head with

stones.

She is hospitalized with fractures. I couldn't talk to her. Jasmine, who

was there, saw everything. She told, and my heart was beating like crazy.

The masked ones came from a settlement called Ma'ale Amos, next to a small

village, Chisan. This is the season of the olive harvest. And Hagar,

together with Israeli and Palestinian volunteers, went to accompany an

elderly farmer, named Ebrahim, whose land is close to the settlement, so he

is afraid to reach it alone.

Here is Yasmin's shocking testimony, word for word. I backed up her words

with the testimonies of three other people who were there.

Yasmin spoke in a voice choked with tears, and asked to ask the immigrant

for forgiveness for leaving her there, to bleed:

"When we approached the farmer's land, there were eight settlers, boys,

with clubs. They didn't attack us, they just cursed. We passed them and saw

that they had collected all the olives and sprayed a toxic chemical on the

trees, which kills them.

They applied it to 180 olive trees. As a farmer, I know that this drug

starts from the leaves, moves to the trees, and then to the trunk. and

kills everything.

The farmer with us, Abraham, an elderly man, started crying and shouting.

I quickly started pouring water, watering the trees, to save them. I knew

that it takes time for Sam to kill the trees.

The eight settlers tried to expel us. But we sang. We didn't speak a word

to them. We only tried to calm the farmer who did not stop crying.

Suddenly, from the mountain, dozens, more than fifty, came down to us, and

all of them were masked, with clubs, and some of them had machetes and

knives, and there were two, I saw them with my own eyes, holding axes in

their hands. They ran towards us and started throwing stones frantically.

without seeing eye to eye.

We had girls with us. 14-year-old girls, and boys, and the farmer and his

elderly wife. No one expected us to be attacked like this. We are a group

that came to volunteer, to help farmers whose land is close to the

settlement.

Now, Hagar, she filmed everything. I think she thought they wouldn't

attack her. Because she is older, seventy years old, and her skin, she does

not look Palestinian. We were them, they dismantled Hagar with blows. Then

they stole her phone, bag, and camera.

I saw how they dropped her, on the rocky ground, and then beat her with

their clubs. while they were holding her. She really screamed. Some of

them brought stones, and dropped them on her head, from zero distance. They

hit her in the leg, and in the back, and in her chest mostly, repeatedly in

the chest with the goddess. It lasts a long time and there are pictures to

prove it.

Every time I tried to get closer, another group of them threw stones at me,

and I failed. I saw the axes and the knives and knew that if they caught

me, they would stab me. We were only twenty, and they were dozens, and all

young. The farmer and his elderly wife barely escaped, and I was with them,

trying to help them.

I feel a lot of guilt, that Hagar stayed there. that we left her there.

She bled for a while and then an Israeli ambulance arrived."

Settlers immediately after the event, spread unbelievable lies, messages to

the media such as: We were attacked. Two settlers were injured. A group of

anarchists and Arabs from the Paza organization came to do provocations.

And indeed, our media published headlines like: "Confrontation between

settlers and left-wing activists". I am not kidding.

I don't know if there were attackers who were injured, but if they were

injured, then it happened when they were masked, when they lynched a

seventy-year-old woman.

Members of my generation, yes, you, who know nothing about the occupation,

or worse, know and simply let these horrors happen, day by day. What needs

to happen for you to do something? Why is a 70-year-old woman now lying in

a hospital disintegrated? Do you not see what is happening around us? How

did we create a violent regime of occupation and Jewish supremacy here?

What have we created here? What have we created here? I put a link, in

response, to volunteer days of rabbis for human rights, where you can go out

and accompany Palestinian farmers. To helicopter olives with them, to

express solidarity, for those who want to do something. Because this is

usually how Palestinian farmers are attacked.

Because we need to return to the same point, hundreds of people next week,

for the sake of Hagar and Michal, another volunteer, the heroines who were

injured. I'm sorry we didn't do more. Sent from my iPhone

על מה שהתרחש היום כותב Yuval Abraham

היום רעולי פנים ביצעו לינץ' באישה בת שבעים. שמה הגר גפן. הם הכו אותה באלות עד זוב דם, ודפקו לה בראש אבנים.

היא מאושפזת בבית החולים עם שברים. לא הצלחתי לדבר איתה. יסמין, שהייתה שם, ראתה הכל. היא סיפרה, והלב שלי דופק בטירוף.

רעולי הפנים הגיעו מהתנחלות בשם מעלה עמוס, שליד כפר קטן, כיסאן. זו תקופת מסיק הזיתים. והגר, יחד עם מתנדבים ישראלים ופלסטינים, הלכה ללוות חקלאי מבוגר, בשם אברהים, שהאדמה שלו קרובה להתנחלות, ולכן הוא מפחד להגיע אליה לבד.

הנה העדות המזעזעת של יסמין, מילה במילה. גיביתי את דבריה עם ע��ויות של עוד שלושה אנשים שהיו שם.

יסמין דיברה בקול חנוק מבכי, וביקשה, לבקש מהגר, סליחה שהשאירה אותה שם, לדמם:

"כשהתקרבנו לאדמה של החקלאי היו בה שמונה מתנחלים, נערים, עם אלות. הם לא תקפו אותנו, רק קיללו. עברנו אותם וראינו שהם גבנו את כל הזיתים וריססו חומר כימי רעיל על העצים, שהורג אותם.

הם מרחו אותו על 180 עצי זית. אני כחקלאית יודעת, שהסם הזה מתחיל מהעלים, עובר לעצים, ואז לגזע. והורג הכל.

החקלאי שאיתנו, אברהים, אדם מבוגר, התחיל לבכות ולצעוק. אני התחלתי מהר לשפוך מים, להשקות את העצים, כדי להציל אותם. ידעתי שלסם לוקח זמן, עד שהוא הורג את העצים.

שמונת המתנחלים ניסו לגרש אותנו. אבל אנחנו שרנו. לא דיברנו איתם מילה. ניסינו רק להרגיע את החקלאי שלא הפסיק לבכות.

פתאום, מההר, ירדו אלינו עשרות, יותר מחמישים, וכולם רעולי פנים, עם אלות, ולחלקם היו מאצ'טות וסכינים, והיו שניים, ראיתי אותם בעיניים שלי, שהחזיקו ביד גרזנים. הם רצו אלינו והתחילו לזרוק אבנים בטירוף. בלי לראות בעיניים.

היו איתנו בנות. נערות בנות 14, ונערים, והחקלאי ואשתו המבוגרת. אף אחד לא ציפה שיתקפו אותנו ככה. אנחנו קבוצה שבאה להתנדב, לעזור לחקלאים שהאדמה שלהם קרובה להתנחלות.

עכשיו, הגר, היא צילמה הכל. אני חושבת, שהיא חשבה, שהם לא יתקפו אותה. כי היא מבוגרת, בת שבעים, והעור שלה, היא לא נראית פלסטינית. אנחנו היינו הם פירקו את הגר במכות. ואז גנבו לה את הטלפון, התיק, והמצלמה.

ראיתי איך הם הפילו אותה, על האדמה הסלעית, ואז הכו אותה עם האלות שלהם. בזמן שהחזיקו אותה. היא ממש צרחה. כמה מהם הביאו אבנים, והפילו לה על הראש, ממרחק אפס. הם הכו אותה ברגל, ובגב, ובחזה שלה בעיקר, שוב ושוב בחזה עם האלה. זה נמשך הרבה זמן ויש תמונות שמוכיחות את זה.

כל פעם שניסיתי להתקרב, קבוצה אחרת שלהם, זרקה עלי אבנים, ולא הצלחתי. ראיתי את הגרזנים והסכינים וידעתי שאם הם יתפסו אותי, הם ידקרו אותי. אנחנו היינו רק עשרים, והם היו עשרות, וכולם צעירים. החקלאי ואשתו המבוגרת בקושי ברחו, והייתי איתם, וניסיתי לעזור להם.

אני מרגישה הרבה אשמה, שהגר נשארה שם. שהשארנו אותה שם. היא דיממה במשך זמן ואז הגיע אמבולנס ישראלי".

מתנחלים מיד אחרי האירוע, הפיצו שקרים בלתי-יאומנים, הודעות לתקשורת כמו: הותקפנו. שני מתיישבים נפצעו. קבוצה של אנרכיסטים וערבים מארגון פזעה הגיעו לעשות פרובוקציות. ואשכרה, בתקשורת שלנו פורסמו כותרות כמו: "עימות בין מתיישבים לפעילי שמאל". אני לא צוחק.

אני לא יודע אם היו תוקפים שנפצעו, אבל אם הם נפצעו, אז זה קרה כשהיו רעולי פנים, כשביצעו לינץ' באישה בת שבעים.

בני הדור שלי, כן, אתם, שלא יודעים דבר על הכיבוש, או יותר גרוע, יודעים ופשוט נותנים לזוועות האלו לקרות, יום יום. מה צריך לקרות כדי שתעשו משהו? למה אישה בת 70 שוכבת עכשיו בבית חולים מפורקת? אתם לא רואים מה קורה סביבנו? איך יצרנו פה משטר אלים של כיבוש ועליונות יהודית?

מה יצרנו פה. מה יצרנו פה. אני שם קישור, בתגובה, לימי התנדבות של רבנים לזכויות אדם, בהם אפשר לצאת וללוות חקלאים פלסטינים. למסוק איתם זיתים, להביע סולידריות, למי שרוצה לעשות משהו. כי בדרך-כלל תוקפים ככה חקלאים פלסטינים.

כי צריך לחזור לאותה נקודה, מאות אנשים בשבוע הבא, למען הגר ומיכל, מתנדבת נוספת, הגיבורות שנפצעו. אני מצטער שלא עשינו יותר.

Sent from my iPhone

An attack on volunteer women 19.10.2022

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tuesday-teyz · 2 years

Note

If this hasn’t already been asked….

What would have happened if br!Phil’s assassination attempt was a success and Theseus really became an orphan?

Theseus would become an emperor at 14, making him the youngest Emperor of the Antarctic Empire in history. Shall Wilbur have returned, Tommy would give him a choice of either leaving the capital voluntarily or getting exiled, at the same time in both cases Tommy demands that he leaves Fundy behind because he wants to raise him as the next crown prince. Wilbur is or course against it and tries to leave with Fundy, but is stopped by Techno, who, even if with great hesitance, drags Wilbur away.

As Tommy grows and his reign goes on, he turns paranoid and harsh. He punishes anybody who have the slightest idea of defying him and everybody is afraid of the Emperor. Some people in the palace try to prevent him from spiraling initially, but when it proves useless, assassination attempts make Tommy even more cruel. Wilbur and Sally slowly start gathering a revolution. They attack guards, wreck taxing offices, rob Imperial family's manors. Sally gets captured during one of those missions and Tommy gets Techno to execute her. Grief-striken Wilbur demands Techno kills him too, Techno refuses. Wilbur tells him that Tommy is no longer their brother, that he has turned into a tyrant and that more people are going to suffer if they don't stop him.

Wilbur continues with the revolution and manages to gather support of nobles too. Joined forces manage to siege the palace. They are about to attack it, but Techno opens the main gates and surrenders voluntarily together with the guards. Wilbur and his supporters find Tommy sitting on the throne, he is nineteen at the time. Tommy doesn't make a sound or change in face when they throw him off the throne and only squeezes his eyes when Wilbur is about to put a sword through his chest. Suddenly Fundy comes running and throws himself between Tommy and the sword. He screams at Wilbur, clings to Tommy ("Don't hurt my brother!"). Fundy doesn't remember Wilbur because he was 2 years old when he was taken, Tommy lied and told him that they're brothers, and they love one another as such. Tommy genuinely loves Fundy and his nephew was the only person he still showed affection and kindness to, proving that he's still capable of those emotions but is too afraid and hurt to show them. While Wilbur stands abashed, he notices that Tommy started shaking. He bursts crying, sobs and begs Fundy not to leave him like everybody else did. The sword falls from Wilbur's hand.

Epilogue to Wilbur becoming the new Emperor. Fundy avoids him but Wilbur takes it slow to introduce himself to his son again. Techno is exiled for his crimes. He plans to live far, far north and get some time to rethink his life. Wilbur bids him goodbye and goes to the dungeons, where Tommy is locked up in one of the cells, barely moving. Wilbur talks to him and tries to understand where did it all go so wrong. Suddenly Tommy starts speaking,

"At eleven years my mother passed away, my brother abandoned me, and I became a crown-prince. At fourteen my father died and I became the sole ruler of the biggest empire the history has ever known. At fifteen my council tried to dethrone me. At sixteen my best friend poisoned my drink. At seventeen I tried to jump off the highest tower in the palace. Last hour of being eighteen I spent bleeding out from self-inflicted cuts. Two weeks ago my brother and general, my last protection, opened the main gates and let my biggest enemy into my home."

Tommy retells all of it without any emotions, then after a stunned silence from Wilbur, he adds, "You ask when it all went south. My answer is that my birth was a mistake. No matter how much I tried, some things are just never meant to be." A pause. "Your wife was hung. When you do the same to me, don't let Fundy watch my neck break."

"I'm not going to execute you."

"A mistake on your part, Your Imperial Majesty," he laughs, then suddenly falls quiet and turns away from Wilbur. "Those nineteen years felt like an eternity. I'm tired, Wil. Grant me the mercy of finally getting my rest."

#br asks #tw: death #tw: suicide #tw: self-harm

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theshelbyclan · 3 years

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Horse Thieves

Summary: The Shelby siblings are still building their imperium, and they need a horse to do it.

(Gif by @madshelby)

A/N: I asked around a bit and people wanted to read a lot more about Teddy, so I decided to use this request by one lovely anon: Hello! I've never done a request for a fic before so please excuse me if this isn't the right way to do it 🙈 But I noticed your requests were open and read the prompts list you linked to for Shelby sister prompts - so can I request something that incorporates 7.“car. Now”, 8.“what story do you want tonight” and 14.“your heading the right way for a smacked backside”. Thank you! I decided to base this on this idea I had in the longer Teddy series, where she refers to a time when she stole a horse with Tommy. So see this as a prequel if you will, set before the series. Words: 2773

*** “Whatever you do, you’re not using Finn.” “I won’t…” “I mean it, Thomas,” Aunt Polly warned, “You’ve only been back for five minutes from France and I will not have you endangering my nephew, after I’ve kept him safe for fucking four years.”

Tommy sighed, “Yes, I understand.” Polly looked at her nephew with a distrustful gaze, “Why do we need the horse?” “Betting’s down,” he slowly lit a cigarette, “We need our own. A horse that looks good. Convinces people to lay a bet.” She had to agree with that, “Where will you go?” “To the place where people most expect a horse to be stolen.” “Why?” “Hide in plain sight,” he pointed, “you taught me that.” “I thought I taught you everything…” Polly mused sternly. Tommy nodded slowly, “Maybe. And now I’m acting on it…” After a short pause, he said, “I’m gonna do it, Pol. I’ll make this family rich. Trust me.” “What about the little ones?” “I’m doing this for them, alright, so that they won’t have to grow up like we did!” Fire was burning in his eyes when he spoke, but Polly had never seen him quite like this. He was different these days. After pondering for a while, she said, “So tell me where.” Tommy took a deep breath, knowing she’d disapprove, “The fair.” “For fuck’s sake, Thomas!” *** “WELCOME TO THE FAIR!” Arthur bellowed, which scared most people in his vicinity away, but it made Teddy, who was used to it, literally jump for joy. Arthur grinned broadly and lifted his little sister up onto his shoulders, shouting, “Now look here, sweet girl, this is where we bloody come from and don’t you forget it!” “Arthur, can I have a candied apple?” Teddy asked him, knowing he wouldn’t refuse her anything when he was in a mood like this. “You can have all the apples, Teddy!” he replied with a grand gesture. John came walking besides them and quietly said to his brother, “They’re here.” “Good,” Arthur said uncharacteristically gently, and he lifted Teddy off his shoulders again, “Tommy’s in place.” “What about Finn, Arthur?” he said, playing with his toothpick. Arthur winked at his suddenly much younger brother, “Don’t worry, brother. He’s off playing with the Boswell kids. He’ll be no bloody trouble.” John grinned down at Teddy, “Unlike this one!” “You know why, John?” Teddy asked cheekily, “Because Finn is like Arthur, but I am like you!” John laughed manically out loud and Arthur bellowed, “She’s fucking right!” “How about that apple, Arthur?” Teddy asked innocently, quickly adding a, “Please?” “Wait here, princess.” As they continued walking, John took Teddy’s hand in his and said to her, “Look at all the horses, Teddy. Maybe one day you could have one of your own.” “But I already have the pony you gave me when you came back,” she looked up with adoring eyes. It was no secret that Teddy had four heroes in life, and those were her brothers. He looked down, “Yeah, but one day you’ll have a horse. Promise.” “John?” she asked, suddenly serious, “You won’t go away again, will you?” “Go where? Why would I leave my favourite little girl!” “You did before…” John stopped and turned to her, “Listen, that was the war… You know I don’t like talking about that…” “I know…” “But the war’s over. No more fucking mud for us, alright?” he said earnestly. He tried desperately to hide the pain he felt. Teddy nodded. “I’m sorry,” John blurted out all of a sudden, “I’m sorry we left you. We didn’t know… what it’d be… we thought it would be…” he simply couldn’t find the words. “I know,” she interrupted him in a high voice, “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again, alright?” “Alright,” he smiled. Then he changed his tone again, happy to switch subjects, “Now, what story do you want tonight?” “One about a horse!” “How about we get you a real one?” John suggested light-heartedly.

Teddy giggled because she thought he was joking, slipped her hand into his again and started skipping. Then she looked over at Arthur, who was just in the process of stealing an apple for her. It was good to have her brothers back again.

“Teddy?” John asked, “think you could do something for me?” “Like what?” “Tommy needs our help.” “With what?” her eyebrows shot up. John coughed once and waited for Arthur to join them, “Eat your apple. And listen, Tommy needs us to help him with something.” Mouth full of candied apple, “whaff kinf of somefingff?” “Just do as we tell you to,” John explained, “and then Tommy’ll tell you what to do.” Arthur nodded, “He’s already instructed us.” “Arthur,” John became unsure, “Are we really involving our eight-year-old sister in this?” “She’ll be fine, John-boy! She’s fucking smart, she is.” “I am,” Teddy replied proudly. The candied apple was nearly gone already.

“Alright, Teddy-girl, you listen to me, yeah?” John bend down to her level, “I need you to pretend you got lost, or maybe ask for help, or cry! Can you cry?” Teddy sniffled a little, “I’m not sure,” she then said in her normal voice. “Don’t worry if you can’t! Just scream a lot, alright?” “Wait!” she said, “Give me a second….” And she pouted her lips again, scrunched up her nose and suddenly tears were falling down her cheeks. “Bloody hell…” Arthur mumbled, as he turned to John, “you fucking created a monster.” “I’m crying!” Teddy said triumphantly through her tears, “Now what?” John shook her head to banish the emotions he felt over seeing his baby sister cry, “Go to Tommy.” Teddy quickly darted off and went in search of her other brother. When she found him, she announced herself with, “Look, Tommy, real tears!” “What the fuck?” Tommy replied in shock, “What happened, tell me now!” “Nothing!” she quipped, “John made me.” “I’ll fucking kill him,” her brother said automatically, “Did he throw you up in the air again?” Teddy grinned, “No, and besides that doesn’t make me cry…” “It did when you broke your arm.” She waved a disinterested hand, “Fine. But I mean he told me to cry because you needed a disattraction! “Distraction.” “Yes!” Tommy knelt down and said in a hushed voice, “Alright, first things first, you can never, ever tell Aunt Polly about this, do you hear me?” Teddy nodded obediently. “I mean it Teddy. She’ll have my fucking balls…” A high voice replied, “Which balls?” He sighed deeply again, regretting his words intensely, “Listen to me, eh? Don’t tell Aunt Pol.” “I will,” but a vague twinkle had come into Teddy’s eyes the second she realised her big tough brother was scared of Aunt Polly too.

Tommy lifted up Teddy and she rested on his hip, hugged close by his arm. She could vaguely smell his hair, his cigarette and a whiff of horse on him. This was her brother, who’d been gone for two whole years. She was only little when he’d gone, but Teddy remembered she cried a lot. All she ever wanted at night was for John to play with her and for Arthur to sit with her and for Tommy to tell her stories. She and Finn used to curl up together and cry. But now he was home, not the same, but still home.

“See them?” Tommy pointed, with a smile playing about his lips like he used to have all the time before the war, “See that family?” Teddy followed his hand with her eyes, “Yeah, the ones with the man with the blue scarf?” “That’s the one,” he nodded, “I need you to distract them.” “Why?” “So I can take their horse.” Teddy turned to face Tommy, and as she grinned, his face lit up as well, “Are we going to steal the horse, Tommy?” Teddy whispered excitedly. “Yes.” She lowered her voice even more, “just you and me?” Softly, he planted a kiss on her head, “Can’t do it without you…” Couldn’t do any of this without you here, he thought, but didn’t say it. “Alright,” he continued, “I’m going to talk to the man with the scarf. Meanwhile, John and Arthur are going to pick a fight with some other men, over by the candied apples, you see?” “That’s why I got an apple…” Teddy mused, slightly disappointed. Tommy quickly got her attention back, “I’ll be talking to him about this other family I know,” he waved a hand, “it’ll be something useless, but I’ll get him to walk away. John-boy is itching to punch someone, so he will, don’t get scared, alright?” Teddy frowned, “I’m not scared of John.” “Now, you see that horse, the black one, by the water?” She peered through the crowd of people and finally caught a glimpse of the beauty. Her eyes lit up in a way that only the Shelby’s eyes light up when looking at a horse. “There’s two boys with him. I need you to go to them. Make sure they walk away from the horse.” “Tommy…” Teddy thought out loud, “Won’t they know it was us?” He smirked at his sister’s intellect, “No. They don’t know us. Besides, they’re feuding with another family here. There’s a war coming, but we won’t be involved this time. Don’t worry about it, eh?” “Why are they fighting, Tommy?” she was not letting it go so easily. “Because I made it happen.” Then he walked a few feet so that they were both hidden from sight, “Now, I need you to distract the boys, and maybe some of the women as well. Cry, if you can, and if anything goes wrong, scream. I know you’re good at that…” “Who will take the horse?” “Johnny Dogs will. He’s close by,” Tommy leaned his forehead onto Teddy’s, “Think you can do it?” “Yes!” “Not too scared?” “Never!” Teddy replied enthusiastically, which slightly worried Tommy, but instead he said, “Go on.” So Teddy walked out behind the tent on her own and started thinking sad thoughts, just to make the tears come easily later on. There wasn’t much need for them though, because as soon as she approached the boys who were washing the horse, one called out, “Piss off!” “Fuck you!” Teddy replied in a flash, “This is free land and I’m a free woman!” she heard Aunt Polly say that once, “I’ll go where I fucking please!” One of the boys pushed her and angrily Teddy shoved him back. Then the second one came for her, and Teddy suddenly remembered her mission. So against all of her instincts, she let herself be pushed to the ground and started howling as soon as she landed. Immediately heads turned and Teddy cried like she hadn’t done in two years, “They pushed me!” But somewhere from out the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur arguing with someone and John landing a punch, almost in slow-motion, and she knew everything went according to plan. “Did not!” the boy protested nervously, “she started it!” Teddy curled up a little and held onto her leg like it was hurting, while trying to make herself as small as possible, “It hurts…” “What have you done!” a strange woman called out to one of the boys, who shrunk visibly as soon as he heard her voice, “fighting little girls now, are you?!” “I didn’t, ma! She started it!” but before he could finish his sentence, he’d gotten the first smack around the head. One down, one more to go. So Teddy upped the tears and it worked beautifully: the second boy didn’t wait for his mother to hear, but decided to run instead. Slowly, Teddy started to calm down, because if she just stood up now and showed it was all fake, everything would’ve been for nothing. She made that mistake once with Finn, and she wouldn’t be doing so again. After about a minute, chaos had descended on the fair. Men were fighting, Tommy was making an already nervous man simply anxious and this side of the camp was almost deserted. But where was Johnny? Teddy got up and hid near the beautiful horse. And then she saw him: somehow Johnny had ended up in the middle of the fight as well. This could ruin everything! “Come,” Teddy beckoned, “Come here! I promise I won’t hurt you…” and much to her own surprise, the horse obeyed. She untied the reigns and like he’d always been hers, he followed her down into the river. Teddy swam a little, wondered for only a second what Aunt Polly would say, and then climbed up onto the horse’s back in the water. From there on, she made a quick decision and urged the horse on. The river was low and couldn’t be seen all the way from the camp, so she kept the route of invisibility. After a while, she spurred the horse on and he climbed the riverside, with the tiny load still on his back. From this distance, Teddy could still see the fair, but because of the trees she was certain they couldn’t see her. “Now what?” she asked the horse, because she hadn’t really thought this through. In reply it neighed. “Shh!” Teddy scolded, “you want me to get caught?” So she steered the horse by its manes and made her way to where the family car was parked. With some luck, everyone else would still be too busy fighting. *** “Teddy!” Teddy turned her head and saw her brothers running, with sheer panic in their eyes. “Where the fuck were you?” Tommy demanded. Teddy shrunk a little at the anger in his voice, “I didn’t know where to go so I went here…” “Car. Now!” Tommy fumed. “That was actually smart, Tom,” Arthur defended her. Tommy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “I thought something happened to you… That’s why I tell you not to leave my fucking side!” “I’m sorry…” she whimpered and tears started forming in her eyes again. “Don’t even try that,” John joked, “We know you can pretend now.” Looking caught, Teddy tried to hide the smile she shared with John. “That’s it, Tom,” Arthur walked back and forth to get rid of the adrenaline still coursing through his body, after they found there little sister was missing, “We’re not using our bloody sister again, for anything!” “Agreed,” Tommy said at once. “I thought you wanted the horse?” Teddy questioned. Again Tommy sighed and he lit another cigarette, “No fucking horse is worth losing you over, Teddy.” And that’s when she realised he wasn’t angry, just worried. “No fucking horse,” Arthur agreed. “But…” she started. John interrupted, “Forget about the horse, Teddy, we’re just glad you’re okay.” “But…” “Besides, we can get a horse some other way, eh?” Tommy continued, “Might even pay for it…” “But…” Tommy held up a hand, “Stop interrupting me, Teddy.” Instead Teddy interrupted him, “But the fucking horse is fucking here!” she pointed beyond the car at the woods, “Look! I rode him here after Johnny didn’t show up!” “I’ll be fucking damned,” Arthur blurted out, “she rode the fucking horse here.” John burst out laughing and simply high-fived Teddy, but Tommy looked as stunned as Arthur did. Anxiously, Teddy waited for Tommy’s reply, occasionally saying things like, “Johnny wasn’t coming,” and “my tears were almost dried up,” and “it wasn’t really my fault, the horse just followed me!” “Teddy Shelby,” Tommy said finally, “you little horse thief…” “You told me to,” Teddy said pointedly, but couldn’t quite hide the pride in her voice. “Oh, so this is our fault, eh?” Teddy shrugged and put on an angelic face, “Well, Arthur taught me how to steal, John taught me how to cry and you told me what to do…”

He pointed at her, “You’re heading the right way for a smacked backside...” Again Tommy looked at the horse and then he coughed a short laugh, “Alright, you win. We’re all horse thieves. Go get your horse.” “Mine?” “Yours.” As Teddy got the horse, the brothers still couldn’t get over the fact that she just did all of that. “Before we go home, there’s just one more thing, Teddy,” Tommy said, “Tell me again what I made you promise.” “Don’t tell Aunt Polly about this.” “Or?” he said menacingly, hoping he still had some authority over her by usually being the one who punished her, when he wasn’t teaching her how to steal that is… “She’ll have your balls.” Tommy eyed his two brothers who doubled over in laugher, but decided to ignore that. “Good girl.”

*** Masterlist

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lexi-the-demon-69 · 2 years

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More small ideas that I came up for Dark Choco and Dark Cacao while watching MLP

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙——————————————·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

☾☁ 【like before, this also goes into my AU】☁☽

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙——————————————·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

❆ When Dark Choco was growing up, he wasn’t the best behaved. When he was around 2-4 years old, he would sometimes whine and stomp his feet whenever he didn’t get his way. Only times when he wasn’t able to play with his dad when he promised he would, Dark Choco would throw a HUGE rage-filled tantrum. Mostly filled with crying, screaming, and kicking stuff. When this is happening, Dark Cacao would try to be the voice of reason and give him a stuffed toy to calm him down.

❆ The stuffed toy was a creamwolf, one of the enemies in episodes 13 and 14. Dark Choco loved that toy so very much and he took very good care of it. When he left, Dark Cacao secretly kept that stuffed creamwolf in his room, hoping that his son would return one day.

❆ The stuffed creamwolf’s name was “Commander Dulcie” btw.

❆ When Dark Choco is angry with his father, other than having a tantrum, he would just pout in his room until Dark Cacao comes to find him in the corner of his room, arms crossed and with a cute angry expression on his face. Dark Cacao couldn’t help but snicker when he saw his own son putting himself in time-out. He would approach his son and put his hand on his little shoulder and ask; “Are you still angry?” Dark Choco would nod. “Have you made a vow to never speak to me again?” Dark Choco would nod again. “Are you willing to break that vow if I got you some cocoa?” Dark Choco would hesitantly nod. Then Dark Cacao would pat his son on the back and go fulfill his son’s demands.

❆ Other than having a bad temper, Dark Choco was actually a very sweet child. Who would make friends wherever he went. He was most fond of the watchers and he would have them play with him if they had free time. The watcher that would play with him the most was, of course, Caramel Arrow cookie. She would try her best to keep the young prince out of trouble by keeping him occupied with games they would play.

❆ Dark Choco had a big fascination with shiny things. More specifically, his father’s sword. He would always try to get his little hands on the blade and keep it for himself. At least, until his dad finds him with it and inevitably takes it away, while giving him a long conversation about why he shouldn’t touch it. Sometimes, some treasures can be found in Dark Choco’s room. More specifically, under his bed. Now, in the present, some treasures still remain under the prince’s bed.

❆ Dark Choco is actually ticklish. His golden spots are his neck, sides and tum. Whenever he’s sad, Dark Cacao, Caramel Arrow or one of the watchers would tickle him without any mercy. Now, thanks to the strawberry jam sword, he’s not that ticklish as he once was. He doesn’t wanna admit it, but he still is. After he lets go of the sword, he slowly regains that part of him back and he hates it. The only cookies that he’ll let them touch him that way is Parfait and Dark Cacao.

❆ Despite him looking very intimidating, Dark Choco is actually a pretty shy and gentle cookie. As somewhat hinted in the game’s lore, Dark Choco is pretty good with kids and is a great babysitter. He’ll sit down and listen to the young cookie’s woes, like a cat of sorts. He doesn’t seem like he cares about any of the cookies, but he definately does.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙——————————————·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

Tell me if you guys wanna see more of these.

#dark choco cookie #dark cacao cookie #caramel arrow cookie #parfait cookie #cookie run kingdom #cookie run

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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A Surrealistic Life (Adrenaline Junkie Part 17)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, derealization, depression, grief, blood, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks

Word count: 3,385

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You cried in Philza’s arms for hours on end until you couldn’t cry anymore. Your head was left pounding and your throat scratchy from the loud crying, but you didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore, without Arthur you were nothing. The past two and a half years just- just didn’t exist. Your mind was still reeling, the words ‘will you always be with me?’ echoing through your mind constantly filling you with guilt.

With one last shuddering inhale, you separated yourself from Philza and wiped at the tears that had long since dried on your face. His eyes, vigilant as ever, scanned your form looking for any sign of distress. In his eyes, you saw pity and grief. This angered you, you didn’t need his pity; you were long past the point of pitiful glances. Well, you were, he wasn’t.

You purse your lips as you watch his eyes flick between your wing and where your other wing was supposed to be. Sorrow flashes in his eyes before he looks back at you with a small, painfully fake smile. With one hand, he gently pushes your shoulder down back onto the bed and stands up.

“I’ll be back, you get some rest.”

With the slightest hint of a nod, you watched as he lingered in the doorway before hesitantly walking out of your room. After he left your room, you locked the door behind him. That door remained locked for weeks on end, every knock or attempt at conversation was never answered by you. Their words were nothing but background noise in the back of your mind.

Instead of responding, you would lay in bed staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes thinking about nothing but everything you’ve lost. Only occasionally you would leave your room to attend to your most basic needs when you were sure that everybody was asleep or out of the house.

The days meshed together as your thoughts consume you in a whirlwind of unorganized messes. Several times, you’ve worked yourself into panic attacks and paranoia filled spiraling because you didn’t know what was real anymore.

Being left alone with your thoughts was something that you always avoided by constantly tinkering with contraptions, your thoughts wandered off to places that greatly disturbed you. But now, you let those thoughts wash over you without a care. Your dreams reflected this; they were plagued with images of Arthur looking up at you with large puppy dog eyes and a large smile before he would be sucked into darkness screaming for you to help him, to do anything, but you were always glued in place leaving you to watch helplessly as he left you over and over again.

Another common one you would have is Arthur getting lost in a bellowing snowstorm in the dead of night. You would be wandering through thick snow calling his name until you would come across a small, pale hand peeking out of an abnormal lump of snow; dread would always fill you during those dreams, it was a parent’s worst nightmare to lose their child.

Other dreams, though very rare, would be pleasant; whether they were about you and Arthur whistling a small tune as you both invented something or a small picnic on the cliff laughing freely into the air, you would always wake up in the mornings prepared to greet him and cook breakfast with him. It wasn’t until you moved your right arm and found that it had limited mobility that you realized that everything was a dream.

You hated those dreams, they always gave you a false sense of hope that everything was okay. Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing.

You refused to believe that… whatever was going on didn’t happen; Philza had said that the last few years had been fake, something that your mind had made up as some form of coping mechanism, but who’s to say that this isn’t a hallucination as well? Both your experiences felt completely different from each other, this reality could be the hallucination for all you knew.

The only thing on your mind was how you needed to get back to Arthur in any possible way you could. If Arthur didn’t exist in this reality, you didn’t want to be in it. You need him and he needs you, you didn’t want to imagine a reality without him. If you got yourself into this by dying, perhaps that was your ticket back to him. Perhaps there was a way to reverse this.

You were going to get your son back, and you were going to die trying.

Until then, you just have to wait out your family. They’d just stop you in the end and you couldn’t have that. You’d have to put on an act that you were perfectly fine and that would entail inventing everything over again, but you were fine with that; if you made it once, you can make it again.

With a newfound sense of purpose, you searched your closet for your old cloak but then you remembered you got your cloak weeks after your first death. Groaning to yourself, you settled for your old bomber jacket. The slits in the back of it wouldn’t cover your nub, so you awkwardly tucked it underneath the fabric of the cloth. It shot pain down your spine, but you shook it off; the pain was something you could handle, you’ve had worse.

Without another thought, you quietly left your room with only one destination in mind.

--------------------------------------------------

You softly padded down the basement stairs towards your workshop. When you arrived at the bottom of the stairs, you paused and looked around. The walls that were once covered with sloppy sketches and words written in two different handwritings, both equally as messy and rushed, were barren for the most part; you forgot that the walls were painted an off white color. Your filing cabinets were gone, replaced with cardboard boxes containing old clothes and toys with thick layers of dust sitting peacefully on top of them. The crafting table sat in the corner of the room wasn’t worn, in fact it looked brand new, not a scratch could be seen on the surface.

Everything was wrong.

You numbly walked over to your desk and picked up the paper that laid on it, holding it up to the light. It was the first draft to your TNT launcher. The sight of the crude, minimal sketches made you cringe, it was far too messy; you had no idea how you could make out what your sloppy handwriting pointed to or what materials were supposed to go where.

You dropped the paper and let it flutter to the floor without a care. Your eyes flickered over the desk and eyed the notebook sitting on top of a stack of spare papers. A spark of hope ignited inside of you, this was the notebook Arthur so often doodled in with different ideas of what could be invented.

You snatched it and flipped the front cover over with haste. A wide smile stretched your lips when you caught sight of the small handwriting that littered the page. It was yours, but you had given it to Arthur so that he could learn and copy from your early years. It was perfect for a blueprint template, neat and organized.

However as you flipped through the book, your smile dropped and the little hope that flared in your chest was snuffed out. You stared at the blank page as frustration built up inside of you. Before you knew it, you threw the notebook at the opposite wall as hard as you could. You were left standing in the middle of the cold basement with your chest heaving and your teeth gritted.

Everything was so wrong. So, so wrong.

You heard footsteps thunder down the stairs before they came to a stop behind you. Hesitant footsteps made their way over to you, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

“(Y/n)? Is everything-”

“Nothing is okay, Tommy,” you gritted out, “absolutely nothing about this is okay.”

He said nothing as he walked around you and put his hand on your clenched fist, his fingers curling around yours and opening your hand. Your palm stung slightly as you glanced down at it. Four small, crescent shaped cuts were imprinted on your skin slowly starting to glisten with blood.

Huffing, you ripped your hand out of his grasp and glanced at his face. You caught yourself doing a double take as you saw just how innocent he looked. No sign of hidden pain in his shining blue eyes, no scars littering his skin, and the bags that once made him look years older was nonexistent. He was your annoying, gremlin of a little brother again. He was Tommy again.

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted slightly, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” you breathed out before you shook your head trying to rid your mind of your frustrations, “no reason at all…”

He awkwardly coughed and nodded slightly, “right…”

You cleared your throat and glanced off to the side at the book laying on the floor. Tommy’s eyes followed where you were looking and went to pick it up. You felt a twinge in your heart as he started to flip through it much like you did earlier. He looked up at you with furrowed brows, “why’d you throw this? What’d the book do to you?” He jokingly asked you.

“It didn’t do anything and that’s the problem,” you mumbled out before you snatched the book out of his hands and tossed it into the trash can.

“Why are you acting so weird? I know you just died and all, but you never let that notebook out of your sight and now you’re just tossing it into the bin!” Tommy fished it out of the trash can and haphazardly placed it back onto your desk on top of the stack of unused paper. You could feel your eye twitch at it’s placement before you threw it away again.

“Leave it there, I don’t want it. I won’t need it anymore anyways,” you murmured under your breath.

“Why wouldn’t you need it- wait, don’t tell me you’re quitting working with redstone. Cuz I’ll have you know that you’re going to be the best goddamned inventor this gods forsaken world has ever known and-”

“I’m not going to quit,” you interrupted him, “trust me, I’ll need whatever I can make. I just… don’t need it anymore, I already know exactly what I need to make.” I can’t stand the sight of Arthur’s notebook so empty and blank your mind supplied yourself.

He tilted his head slightly, “even without the bluepri-”

“Even without the blueprints,” you curtly nodded and automatically turned to look at the bulletin board hanging above your desk only to sigh when you once again saw that it was barren. “I made these things thousands of times before, I know what I’m doing,” your gaze zeroed in on the half finished blueprint for your automatic crossbow, “I’ll just make them again.”

Tommy once again looked at you with furrowed brows and inquisitive eyes, you could just see the curiosity and confusion swimming around in his baby blue orbs, “what do you mean, you literally only have one prototype of everything on here.”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, so just drop it.” You hadn’t meant to snap at him like that, but the frustration was just too overwhelming to ignore. Just as you could see him start to get dejected from the corner of your eye, you made quick work of changing the subject.

“You know, I could hear what you said when I wasn’t awake. I really appreciated the music, it was a nice change of pace.”

He tensed before his eyes were drawn to the empty space over your shoulder. His breath hitched slightly as a sorrowful look appeared in his eyes. Looking back at you, he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you into a tight hug. You didn’t struggle against him despite your frustrations, you knew he needed you right now. You could still remember how broken he was when you were unconscious. The way his lip wobbled slightly before he hugged you reminded you of Arthur.

You gently hugged him back and wrapped your wing around him. He gripped you tighter, his breath shuddering as wetness started to hit your head. You said nothing as you started to hum and run your fingers along his back tracing out patterns without a particular one in mind.

Eventually, he pulled away from you and chuckled sardonically, wiping his tears away with a fist, “you’re the one who died and I’m the one being comforted. Gods, it’s pathetic.”

“It’s okay to feel emotions, Tommy. You should never bottle them up, it sounded like you needed a good hug anyways. I’m happy to give you that,” you softly told him.

He said nothing as he crossed his arms and shifted on his feet, avoiding your gaze. For a moment, your tall brother was replaced by a short, red haired boy wearing that same expression. You purse your lips in thought, your previous frustrations completely gone and replaced with an urge to comfort him or at least distract him. Though a deep sadness dragged your body down at the thought of Arthur, Tommy just reminded you too much of him. It was eerily uncanny in your opinion.

Ideas swarmed your head as you thought back to how you comforted Arthur when he fell down. Besides talking to him, you would always teach him something; knowledge to Arthur is- was like a sponge absorbing water. It gave him a distraction to whatever got him down, maybe that would work for Tommy as well.

Wordlessly, you walked over to your desk and gestured for him to follow you. You plopped him into your office chair and pulled one of the cardboard boxes up to the desk. In the process, you grabbed your gloves, goggles, and everything you would need to set up a simple timed piston. The smallest spark of happiness flashed inside you as you saw that your resources were fully stocked.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, Tommy, I’m going to show you how to set up one of my favorite redstone mechanisms. Put these on,” you handed him the gloves and goggles and watched as he put them on. The goggles were a bit small on him, but besides that, everything fit him.

“Now, you’re going to want to…”

--------------------------------------------------

Hours passed as you both worked together on the contraption. Slowly, you could see Tommy loosening up and making more jokes, successfully distracted. However, you didn’t expect yourself to follow suit. Laughter came easier to you whenever Tommy would joke around, your troubles long forgotten.

It took a little longer than you were used to, but eventually Tommy started to follow along with the precision you’d expect from a beginner. Slowly but surely, with many mistakes along the way, there was a working piston system sitting on the desk.

Tommy triumphantly laughed into the air as he watched the pistons work in tandem with one another. You laughed alongside him and ruffled his hair, “nice job, Artie! I knew you could do it!”

Tommy completely stopped and looked at you in confusion, “‘Artie’? Who’s that?”

You completely froze in place, you hadn’t meant to call him Artie. He was Tommy, he was your blond little brother, not your ginger son. Tommy was his own person, he was Tommy, not Arthur. You mentally scolded yourself for constantly mixing the two up.

“Artie is- well, he’s just… Arthur is my old friend,” you stammered out after tripping over your words clumsily. Tommy couldn’t find out about Arthur, nobody could. That’d just ruin your plan.

He snorted, “sure, ‘old friend’. You know, if Dad finds out that you’re dating someone he’d ground you for life.”

“I’d never date anybody, you know that,” you scolded him with your nose wrinkled in disgust. “He’s just an old friend and you remind me of him.”

“Well, old friend or not, he sounds amazing if I remind you of him!”

You smiled sadly as your mind flashed to images of Arthur at various points in his life, “he really was, you would’ve loved him, Tommy. He might’ve been the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Why don’t you tell me about him? I can preen your wings-” Tommy abruptly stopped himself and looked like he’d just accidentally kicked a puppy, looking at you with wide eyes and red tinted cheeks.

Just as he started opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, you chuckled at his expression, “you’re fine, Tommy. It’s just going to take some time for you to get used to this,” you shifted your wing and cringed at the uncomfortable feeling. You haven’t preened your wings since before you left for the cave nearly two months ago, and your wing was a mess of bent and loose feathers. “I’d… actually like a good preening, are you sure you know how to do it?”

“Please,” he scoffed before pushing you to sit down in your desk chair, “I’ve seen you and Dad do it to each other thousands of times, I think I know what I’m doing.”

“That isn’t how that- you know what? Just go ahead. Make sure you get any loose feathers and straighten them out,” you stretched your wing out and hoped for the best. Tommy surprisingly did a decent job of straightening out feathers, he just had to work on distinguishing loose feathers from intact feathers (you were now missing a couple of smaller feathers).

The entire time, you were telling him how amazing your boy was. Sure, you might’ve overexaggerated just a little bit, but Arthur was certainly someone that deserved the praise. That kid was something else, truly a prodigy at both redstone and compassion. Leaving out the fact that Arthur was your adopted son and that he was ten years old was a little hard, but you managed to avoid that.

You could tell that Tommy knew something was different about you, but you guessed that he just assumed the changes were because of your death and not because you were technically two and a half years older than you physically are.

When he was done, you looked at your wing and you were pleasantly surprised at how well he did; sure there were a few loose feathers and they were partially crooked, but you could tell that Tommy did his best with them.

“Thanks, Toms,” you smiled at him after you tucked your wing back in, “I really appreciate you doing that, it was starting to bother me.”

“It’s no problem,” he puffed out his chest in pride, “I told you I knew what I was doing.”

“And I’m sorry for ever doubting you. Who knows, maybe Dad’ll let you do his wings next.”

“Oh gods no,” Tommy shuddered slightly, “his are massive and he has two of them! If doing yours took me an hour and a half, I’d hate to see how long it’d take me to do his.”

You cringed, remembering the last time you preened his wings. Though you were experienced, it had taken you two full hours for each wing. “Yeah, his wings are huge. Gods, I hope my wing doesn’t get to be that size.” Though they grew to be nowhere near Philza’s wingspan when you were in that reality, you weren’t sure if yours was going to be larger or smaller than what they were.

Just as Tommy was about to open his mouth to respond to you, Wilbur’s voice echoed down the stairwell, “Tommy, dinnertime!”

“Well c’mon then, let’s go. I’ll race you there,” was all Tommy said to you before he bolted up the stairs with a booming laugh, skipping every third step. You could feel your heart stop when he almost tripped on one of the stairs because he skipped too many. Rushing after him, you shouted at him, “Tommy, walk! You’re going to break your neck if you keep running up and down the stairs!”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

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#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #sbi x you #philza x you #tommyinnit x you #mcyt x you #dream smp x you #adrenaline junkie #tw: swearing #tw: blood #tw: nightmares #tw: depersonalization #tw: depression #tw: grief

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sodadrabbles · 3 years

Note

hear me out- one more littleboo but like if they were crying or like going through smt and ranboo just helps//comforts them if that makes sense? GEHDDH okay have a good day :]

THE PEOPLE DEMAND HURT/COMFORT. I SHALL FEED YOU, MY PEOPLE

Also, I wanted to address why I use ‘Ranboo’ in these fics, when referring to the actual CC- We don’t know Ranboo’s real name. I want to respect his wishes and not speculate, because that’s creepy. So, I just use Ranboo. A couple people were asking in my inbox. I know Tubbo said his name was Mark, but that was never confirmed, and, again, I don’t want to speculate on his personal information, that’s WEIRD.

LIttleboo IV: Hurt/comfort or bust.

Pairing: Ranboo x sibling!Reader (gender-neutral)!

Rating: Soft. Bad ending, I’m so sorry (NOT ANGST, IM JUST BAD AT WRITING)

Summary: Being a freshman sucks ass, but Ranboo bought taco bell, it’s all good.

To say today was a bad day would be an understatement. It was probably the most terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day of your 14-year-old life. The whole day the universe would launch bad thing after bad thing at you, as if it was somehow testing you in your will to deal with bullshit. Like it was asking you ‘What are you willing to put up with today?’

Your answer was ‘Not fucking this.’

You woke up to your brother shaking you softly, telling you the power had gone out and you were both late. For an upperclassman this wasn’t a big deal- But you were a freshman. Your teachers were going to give you absolute hell for being late, and knowing Ranboo was going to get off scot-free made you a little salty. You had to skip breakfast and had to leave with your hair still a bit messy, barely able to comb through it with your fingers while Ranboo drove you both to school.

Then there was a pop quiz first period- English. You were never terrible at english, but being on the topic of the last three chapters of the book you were reading for class- Chapters which you had not read yet- The test had been a little difficult. Not to mention the hunger clawing at your stomach, and the strange fog that was settled about your thoughts.

You thought you could catch a break through second period and lunch, knowing Chemistry would be an easy day and you could grab something good with your brother, but fate had other plans in mind.

During Chemistry, you were tasked with picking a partner and completing an experiment afterthought worksheet, going over the experiment you had done in class the day before. You were paired with the nice girl sat next to you- At least you thought she was nice. As the teacher dismissed the class to begin talking amongst themselves, you turned to start asking her how her experiment went yesterday. You didn’t have a chance to ask, however, as the girl snapped at you harshly. “Don’t even bother! I’m not doing this assignment. Do it on your own.”

Her voice was pitched and loud, and it caused you to wince back. You tilt your head and try to ask her, but she cuts you off by flicking the paper in your direction. It sends both your papers flying, and you try to catch them, but fail miserably and fall out of your chair unceremoniously. As you fall, your foot comes up to counter balance and you nearly kick the girl in the head- Keyword being nearly. You were sure you were able to stop yourself, and hadn’t touched it, but still the girl screeches and begins screaming bloody murder. The teacher comes over to check what’s going on, the girl sobbing and holding her head.

And then she lies through her teeth.

“Sir, she just kicked me! I was just asking about her experiment and she kicks me!”

She’s sobbing dramatically, and though you’re clearly not at fault, considering it was clear you had fallen out of your chair. Even still the teacher sides with her, giving you a short and disappointing talk about violent behaviour in the classroom, ending with “I have no choice but to give you lunch detention and a zero on the assignment.”

You don’t try to argue- Exhaustion was already settling on your body and you didn’t want to just make the situation worse than it already was. The rest of second period dragged on like a snail. You sat awkwardly at your table, twiddling your thumbs and staring at the walls. You could feel eyes boring into the back of your skull with each passing glance at the students. A few whispers that seemed much too loud yet indecipherable hitting your ears, somehow knowing deep in your soul that the other students were whispering about you. By the time the lunch bell rang you were starting to feel tears prick at your eyes as your own thoughts betrayed you.

During lunch detention, you were at the very least allowed your phone. You texted your brother, alerting him that you had lunch detention. He promised to bring you food before your third period began- The gesture brought a smile to your face. Your third period was your favorite, because Ranboo was also taking that class. US History. You were able to push through detention with Philza’s stream, starting a TTS war with Wilbur in the time you were able to watch. Of course, mentioning you were in detention earned you a little rant from Phil, not doing much to better your mood.

When third period came down to bless you, you could feel the tears welling in your eyes at the happy sight of your tall older brother holding a taco bell bag in his hand. You basically tackled him, nearly knocking him to the ground. His arms flew around you for stability, and you gripped the back of his shirt as an involuntary sob came out of your mouth.

Ranboo stared down at you with his brows furrowed with concern, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. He pushed you to the side to allow other students to get into the classroom, and released you from the hug to look you in the face. Your eyes were puffy and your cheeks and nose were red, stray tears still rolling down your cheeks. He wiped one away.

“(Y/N), what happened? Why are you crying?” He asked, your eyes avoiding him. You hated to cry in front of people- But the stress of the day weighed heavy on your shoulders. You had just gotten too excited. When you explained this, Ranboo shook his head. “(Y/N) it’s perfectly okay, you don’t have to apologize.”

He hugged you again, and you hugged him back. After standing there for a moment, the annoying ring of the school bell sounded overheard, alerting you that class was starting.

“Tell you what,” Ranboo beamed at you, picking up the bag of food. “We’re gonna go in there, annoy Mr. Anderson, and eat chalupas until we explode. Sound good?”

You smile and nod your head. God, your older brother is so cool.

---

The rest of the day was smooth as it could be. You spent all of third period messing around with Ranboo- The assignment given for the day forgotten as homework that you would sit down and do together before Ranboo had to stream. You feared that your fourth period, Algebra, would once again break you down into a ball of anxiety and terror. But to your pleasant surprise, you would be watching a movie with a substitute for that class.

Your mood had been significantly raised by the time the bell had rung, releasing you from the confines of the building. You packed your things quietly, the hustle and bustle of an emptying school occupying your senses. You had rushed down through the hallways towards to doors leading to student parking. Ranboo was supposed to be waiting for you at the car.

But before you could reach the door, you felt a hand grip your bag, pulling you backwards. Your feet flew out from under you as you fell to the ground, your bag being ripped from your shoulders. You felt you back collide with the cold, tiled ground, pain shooting through spine.

Shrill giggling sounds from above you. You groan and roll onto your front, staring up at a group of three girls laughing at you. You recognized the one holding your bag from your chemistry class. By the looks of the other two, they were also freshmen. You try to get on your feet, but the girl swings her leg, knocking your hands out from under you. You feel something press against your back.

The girl from your class laughs as she bends down to look at you. “You thought you could get away with that little stunt?” She sneers, her hand grabbing your face. Not able to think of anything else to do, you snap your jaws, nearly biting her. She screeches and backs away.

“DID YOU JUST TRY TO BITE ME?” She screams, her face twisted in disgust. You feel the presume on your back worsen, and you strain your neck to see who was standing on your back. You recognized the guy as a junior on the soccer team. You vaguely recalled the girl mentioned she was dating a guy on the soccer team.

You squirm, freeing your hands from underneath you. Just as you were about to grab the guy’s leg, you hear a familiar voice shout. The three girls in front of you scatter like rats- But the soccer player stays. He turns to look at whoever shouted, his chest puffing out as if he’s prepared for a fight. However the color seems to drain from his face when he sees the mystery person- And he runs away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

As you start to stand, someone grabs you by the shoulders and helps you up. You’re met with the mop of brown hair and concerned gray eyes of your older brother. He helps you to your feet, handing you your bag. You thank him as you throw the bag over your shoulders, giving your older brother a tight hug.

You don’t even realize there were tears in your eyes again, until Ranboo tells you to dry your eyes. “Sorry…” You whisper, hand wiping away the water. “I don’t know why I’m crying.

Ranboo smiles at you again, his hand patting the top of your head. You smile at him too, and he leads you out of the school, asking if you’re alright or if anything hurts. You spend the walk to the car feeling grateful you have someone to help you out like that. It has you smiling to entire ride home.

#mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dsmp x reader #ranboo x reader #ranboo x you #ranboo x y/n #request #anon #cc!ranboo x reader #cc!ranboo x you #cc!ranboo x y/n

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