#selfshi
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piece i did for a selfship valentines secret santa for a friend of mine!
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hey. it's okay that your self-ship blog is small.
your blog doesn't need to be big or be noticed by tons of people to be considered a "good" one. your self-ship doesn't need to be noticed and praised by tons of people to be considered valid. you don't need any followers to help validate that your self-ship is good enough.
the point of self-shipping is to feel love for a character in a way that makes you happy. a romantic f/o is supposed to make you feel special and loved. a platonic f/o is supposed to make you feel like someone has your back. a familial f/o is supposed to make you feel like you have someone to come home to. a pet f/o is supposed to make you feel happy and joyful. an enemy f/o is supposed to make you feel creative.
getting a lot of notes, a ton of asks, a bunch of followers- that doesn't matter. self-shipping is not a popularity thing, it's not a trend, it's not something you should feel the need to put yourself out for.
you should do it to have fun, feel comforted, be safe, think of yourself, take care of your mental and physical health. do it because it makes you happy. do it for your f/o that'll know you better than any follower or anon ever will.
#the bun talks#f/o#selfship#self-ship#self ship#fictional other#f/o community#fictional other community#selfship community#self-ship community#self ship community#selfshipping#self-shipping#self shipping#safeship#safeshipping#you can take this from someone who has had general selfshipping posts get popular but not any of their actual posts about their own selfshi#just because i dont get asks about them or any attention for them at all doesnt mean our relationship isnt good enough
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(AFTER RIN OFC)
i would just like to tell you kaiser give the best heads😫🤞
NOT GONNAA POST THE OTHER ASK BEC I SAID SO…
YES RIN > KAISER I AGREEE…
#I CANT SEE KAISER AS EVER BEING ABLE TO SATIFY HIS OARTER HE IS TOOO SELFSHI FOR THAT 💀#nadeen !!! 🫶
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starting back up this stupid blog .
#depression sucks. n e ways . i've never stopped selfshi//ing. just been doing it privately#robo.txt
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okay, so i came across someone else who has L as an f/o, sooooo i checked out their tag to see if their interpretation of L is similar to mine, and,,, they reblogged an f/o imagine post that i also reblogged. they came on our dashes from two different people, BUT,,, we both reblogged it. thinking of L. eighteen minutes away from each other???
what. ( • ∀ • )
#lizzie screams#that’s such a freak coincidence tho!!!!!!!!!!!!! /positive#two L selfshi//ppers reblogged it. i guess that makes it an L f/o certified post then XD
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iNEED to make a selfshi[ account so i can be insane
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Finished an exam and doodled some selfshi(t)p :3
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... who fuckin cares
selfshi p.....
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I love how in just 3 episodes, King-ohger has demonstrated 2 different types of selfshiness.
The ones who are selfish to only benefit themselves and the ones who are shefish to benefit others.
In episode 1, Racules was selfish because he was power hungry and wanted to declare war on N'Kosopa just because Yanma didn’t agree with him and said that the people in his kingdom are “are simply a means to an end to be used, and declares he is the kingdom”
In episode 3, Himeno is selfish, but it has a different impact on her people. She decides to knock down a house not only because was it blocking her view of the flowers, but it was also old and run down, allowing the family to move into a much better house. She kept Gira captive until he gave up God Kamakiri so that she may protect her kingdom.
this is such an important lesson that everyone should learn and I really enjoyed this episode as it was really intresting
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Warning: Selfshi
@askfacultystaff
Apps:
Gacha nebula-From my sister's laptop
Kinemaster
Capcut-to remove the side from laptop
Inspired here👇
#basically basics#education and learning#neko sufi#gacha video#gacha nebula#the casagrandes#carlota Casagrande#boboiboy#boboiboy gacha#boboiboy galaxy#doors roblox#doors ambush#doors rush#neko! Boboiboy
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cychoro doobies ft my other selfshi[ tee hee
#txt#i want to entertain the idea of a double date between my selfships bc it would be fun#but i dint think theyd get along bc theyre inverses of each other#zarah and choro are the straight man types and jiwoon and cypress are fucking crazy!#png
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Mr Norrel kind reminds me of Sheldo in the sense that they are both really smart guys who are jerks and heavily autisti coded.
A big difference in my eyes is that while Sheldon jerkness comes from his autism, Mr Norrel's comes from him being a British spoiled elitist.
The autism just makes him confused and be obceced with books. His selfshiness and arrogance has nothing to do with it
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the heart wants what it wants.
what does my heart wants?
to be wanted.
to be still
very still
to stops, somedays
but that's just for my head
it wants to be wanted
and cherished
and to be taken care of
to be understood
cause nobody else does
not really
no one has the tools to seek for it
for unburrie from where I buried
no one can
and I think, sometimes, that no one will ever will
so I hide it, behind half-faked smiles and wondering eyes
and the sad part it's it's not even difficult
not hard at all
no one truly wants it, so it's so simply to pretend give it way
they don't realize that the on they have does not beat at all
and if they really had it, the real thing, they would notice how fake the one they already had is
cause my heart, although it did not want, it's loud
and demanding
and selfshy
and not at all still
it beats so hard that I, most times, want to carve a knife on it, so that it can finally stops
and stop
and never be alive again
never beat again
cause I hate it
cause all it ever do its hurt
and I'm tired.
very
very tired.
I think that my heart hate itself too.
#english its not my first language#i that it has wrong grammar#i do not care#its all mental ilness truly
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Aftermath
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
It’s bright. That is my first thought. Bright, and pleasantly warm. My eyes flutter open, but I quickly cover them with my arm, shading them from the sun. I roll over onto my side and curl up tight, savoring the feeling of the breeze on my skin.
It’s over.
It comes back to me quickly, but I am not alarmed. I am too tired to sit up or cry any more than I already have. Too tired, dehydrated, hungry. My whole body hurts. I shove off my battered and bloody backpack, casting it aside. I take off my cracked glasses and roll onto my back, the dry, prickly grass beneath me as the best bedding I have felt in a long time. I crane my neck a bit and see the ruins of hilltop road- the old hilltop road- just behind me. I sigh and close my eyes.
Finally, I can rest.
As I drift off to sleep, the world around me can finally take a breath.
Soon after, the world begins to wake up. People like me, hurt and broken but very much alive, take their own rests. They sleep and they eat and they bathe away their suffering. Soon enough, the world does its very best to recover from hell.
Five days after it ends, I’m shaken awake by a stranger. Once again, my eyes slowly open. The face is friendly, though unfamiliar. It’s a burly man, who looks like he’s already had his sleep and his bath. He crouches next to me.
“Hi.” he gently greets. I grunt and slowly push myself off the ground, rubbing my eyes. “Do you remember your name?”
“Cal,” I yawn. “It… it’s really over, then.”
He nods, and sits next to me. “You remember everything, then?”
“Mm.” I lean back on my stiff arms and look up at the sky. “I missed sleep.”
He laughs. “I felt the same way.”
We sit in silence for a moment.
“How long has it been, then?” I finally ask. He checks his watch.
“131 hours, just about. Most people woke up on their own after a few days- as far as I know, people are grouping up and finding their way home.”
I let out a whistle. “That’s a new record for me, I think.”
He laughed again. “The people who’ve stuck around this area, we came from a slaughterhouse. It wasn’t pretty. D’ya remember where you were..?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering the best way to explain to him how easy I’d had it.
“It’s… complicated.” I finally settle on. He nods.
“No pressure. Some people… are doing better than others. No one will blame you for keeping things to yourself.” He holds out a hand. “I’m D’Angelo, by the way.”
I shake it, not quite making eye contact. “Where are you from?” I ask.
“Ontario. You?”
“Oh. California, really, but I was in London when it all happened. You’re far from home.”
“Most of us are. I think there are a couple of other locals in our group if you’d like to come back with me? You seem pretty stable, so I’d understand if you wanna find your own way home.”
I think for a second.
“Maybe I’ll join you guys. Company sounds... nice.”
He smiles. “Good choice.”
After that, things start to feel quite dreamlike. I return with D’Angelo to a group of survivors. They’d set up camp at an intersection in town. Some were adjusting well, others would wake up in the night screaming. Despite everything, for the week I stayed with them, we felt like family. Only a third of us spoke English, but the language barrier wasn’t much of a problem. We stuck together all the same. I found myself comforting my companions in their panic attacks often. We cooked and ate together. We looked after each other. Those of us with stories to tell did so. We rode out the aftershock, and when a helicopter came around taking folks to London, I was sad to say goodbye.
When I got home, I knew where to go. I found Basira, Georgie, and Melanie at the ruins of the institute. I told them my side of the story, and they told me theirs. I grieved for Jon and for Martin and for Daisy and once more for everyone we lost along the way. Even though Basira and I never really got along well, we offered each other some comfort, with a shared experience of losing the person we cared for most. We went for coffee a few times. I’m proud to call her my friend.
I stayed with Georgie and Melanie for a few weeks. I cried to them about losing Annabelle. They told me it was the right thing to do for her. Melanie never liked that I was with her, but she cried for me, too.
My parents died shortly after it ended. I made my way back to the states as fast as I could and stayed with them and my brother their last few nights. They said they were proud of us. They’re in a better place now. I’m glad they got to see the world fixed.
My brother joined a clean-up team to help put things back together, to help restructure. When airports started functioning again, I went back to London. It’s where I belonged.
Some avatars still roam around. People tormented by the vast go their hands on Simon Fairchild pretty quick- the old bastard is easy to find in a crowd. He didn’t make it longer than a week before some revenge-hungry survivors came for him. Callum Brodie- the kid- went into intensive therapy. I worry for him often. Arthur Nolan died the same as Fairchild. I ended up meeting Oliver Banks when I came back to the ruins of the institute, which at that point was a fenced-off empty lot. I doubt anyone will build there again, not after what happened. He’s a nice guy- still sees the roots, but does his best not to think about it, apparently. He’s doing his best to adjust.
Like that, things returned to a sort of normal. Governments rebuilt themselves, people found ways to rebuild and keep busy, made their homes in communities, not unlike the one I was briefly in when the world had just come back. I hate to say it, but… the world feels better now. More tolerant. More understanding. Basira and I agree that the only way to move forward now is to accept the atrocities as things that you can’t change and focus on the good that became of everything.
I found work at a cafe two months in- the same one Annabelle and I went for coffee at so long ago. It reminds me of her. Many things do. I’ve cried over her many times since the end. But slowly, I’m healing. Every day is new, and I take it as best I can. I meet with the girls often- they’re the only real friends I have left, the only ones who really understand my perspective.
Penny- Annabelle’s spider- survived the end. She returned to normal size, tucked away in my backpack. I cried when I first saw her. I held her gently and sobbed. She was just a normal spider now. I set her up a nice, big enclosure in my new apartment. Took to taking care of animals like her- lizards and snakes and beetles and two rescue cats, which I named Cain and Abel.
Months slowly turned into a year. Life went on, just like she said it would. I took a few college courses, got my degree in anthropology- Tim always made it sound so interesting. Every morning I try and recreate Martin’s tea in a new way, but I’ve never quite got it right. Every night I read before bed instead of look at my phone- Jon always preached how bad that was for you. Every day I try new things and am kind to people with my whole heart, because Sasha was always so kind to me, and I want to pass that on.
Wherever the fears are now, they’re far away from us, and far away from anyone they’ve hurt. I’m okay with that.
<< Part 1
>> Part 3
#all part of the master plan 🕷💐🕸#theres more. stay tuned.#moving on hurts so im speedrunning it#f/o#fictional other#selfshi#selfshipping#a little creative touch#tma selfship
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Among Us but selfship edition where we all play as our f/os and descend into madness
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you're shipping jesus h christ our lord and savior?!???! what the f ?!???
yeah? wasn't it obvious. what's not to get
#also. who's to say i am. *my* names are jesus and judas. maybe im just selfshi- *gets shot*#judas.txt#anon#wait should i tag this with chr*stianity?#um ask to tag
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