#so that might be worth checking out as well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tyx003-alt · 3 days

Text

Now playing: Asteria - EYES ON ME ~{Sped up}~,https://youtu.be/x0VxdJIesag?si=Rwugbd4KQEXxC84S

●━━━━━━─────── ⇆◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ↻

Student / Y/N X Miss Circle X Miss thavel X Miss Bloomie X Miss Emily X ...? ———————— [PART 1. I think i might be sick..]

Note ; [Who should i add too part 2?]

✏ < That's it now, all you have to do is RUN RUN RUN!! Currently you're being sprinted at by the three main teachers of the head board school, now who doesn't love a chase? Students being beaten by teachers. Crazy right? Well you got a option, run, stop or hide. This will affect the cause of yourself, so please, don't try and die. You'll get sets of options through out this school, meet new people and try not too ruin things too much that is unless you want too, but honesty who would want that?

✏ < finally, you hid in the science room, Miss bloomie wouldn't check here, she'd probably only check outside of classes, seriously no one wants too stay in class. Not even teachers. You deck it too under the desk, nearly hitting your head on the edge too hard. I't wont hurt after a few minutes' you reassured yourself while trying too get distracted from the pain. You had been chaser for hours now, being hunted down isn't that simple, especially when they're taller then you ..so after a while you went out of the class room too only find Miss Thavel above you.

✏ < You have a few options here, and they'll probably not be good, but heyy, you got this. I believe in you, so, make your choice. And I'll let you decide if you wanna run this time, stay back and negotiate your life or accept it. The choice is yours, and the floor is yours.

¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬ A. -Run

¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬ B. -Negotiate

¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬ C. -Let it go

OPTION A ; START OUT!1

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

✏ < You book it behind her, clawing at the walls as you wobble past pupils / students, you hear her gaining on you as you shift corners too allow yourself too but your good foot behind you and boost forward. Luckily, she hit the wall infront of her with her class that you bounced off of, you run into the libary, seeing Miss Circle infront of you on a chair with Miss Bloomie laying on her lap, they both get up ready too sprint at you.

¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬ 'This Was it.

Youre Cornered By The Three.

Was Any Of Your Life Here Worth It?

Do You Regreat This?

Do You Feel Bad?

Why Should You? You're A Great Person. A Nice One, Even if You Don't Think it. Out There You Had A Life.

Im So Sorry.` ¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬

✏ < And before you can comprehend anything, you hear a thud. You flash your eyes open too expect your demise, only too be made with you being held by Miss Emily, she's carrying you now ..you look past her shoulders as Miss Circles face is covered by blood poured over her face, She. Hit. Her. With. A. History. Book. In. The. Side. Of. Her. Temple. Now too be embraced by your teacher, running from the consequences that you made.

THE NEXT DAY!1 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

OPTION B ; I WANNA SEE YOU GET LOUD!1

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

(Coming later..)

✏ THIS PICTURE WAS NOT MADE BY ME. ✎ Credits to: olifavgf

#fpe x reader #fundamental paper education #fpe #fpe miss circle #miss circle fanart #miss circle x reader #miss thavel x reader #miss thavel #miss bloomie #miss bloomie x reader #miss emily #Miss Emily x reader

73 notes · View notes

flem17ng · 4 hours

Text

It’s a date.

UCLA! jessie fleming x reader

summary: reader starts her first semester at UCLA and meets bruins midfielder, jessie fleming.

content: fluff, short one-shot. author has no knowledge of the American education system.

The first day of university was always going to be hard. New people, new campus, new lecturers and new classes all together. Maybe it was the fact you’d never been this far from home before that made it worse.

UCLA was your dream school. Quite literally. You remeber looking at the university website back when you where in middle school and imagining yourself there: kicking a ball in the oval, studying in a library, laps in the big pools. the feeling of actually being here was… overwhelming.

Like all eighteen year olds do, you had launched yourself into this thing head first: packed bags, kissed your dog goodbye and hopped on the plane. And like most eighteen year olds , you where now struck with the intensity of your actions.

Here you where, miles from home, no connections in the state, standing outside the lecture theatre for your first class. So yes, overwhelming would be the word of choice.

You looked down at your timetable for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last minute, checking and triple checking that you had got the room right.

“Environmental Studies: Spheres 101”. The name of the course seemed to taunt you at you stared at it blankly.

Leave it to you to go to one of the most prestigious sports schools in the world, (doing very minimal sport yourself) and end up doing a course all about what? Water, earth, wind and fire?

You knew it was more important than that of course. You picked environmental engineering for a reason: because you cared about that sort of stuff!

You took a long breath readying to walk in when-

“Oh shit I am so sorry! God I was not looking where I was going!” The thump in your shoulder didn’t knock you quite as off balance as the thick Canadian accent. You froze for a moment, not knowing whether to be pissed at this stranger’s clumsiness or charmed but the voice that reminded you of home. Your eyes flashed up to meet the source of the voice and decided to be charmed.

Her eyes where the first thing you noticed: large and brown and…. well charming you suposed. Every other part of the girls face fell neatly into place behind those eyes: perfect, warm and adorned with a lopsided and slightly guilty smile.

It was then that you realised you hadn’t responded.

“Oh no don’t worry. I was distracted myself” you rushed out, words melding into a lump as they rushed to get passed your lips. It was worth it as you watched the girls guilt melt away into an easier grin.

“Another Canadian! I thought I was going to be alone here you know” she laughed “I don’t think I would have survived”.

You nod eagerly, feeling the other girls relief. “God same! I’m already off kilter over here”

“Eh. we’ll muddle through” she grinned back giving an animated wink before looking back at the door you where still loitering before.

“Might need to…” she trailed off at motioned with her chin to the door.

“Right right yes! I don’t want to be late to learn about the spheres of the environment” you drawled sarcastically. The girl rolled her eyes in agreement.

“Right!? when I saw that on my timetable I couldn’t believe it! I swear I learned this in 9th grade”.

“American’s eh?” you tut with a playful smile. God you hoped none of the resident americans would over hear you.

The girl (you realised you didn’t yet know her name) laughed loudly, her teeth flashing handsomely (Looking at her you realised that “handsome” was a pretty accurate diagnosis: broad shoulders, a freakishly athletic build, sharp jawline. Yes, handsome was the word). Together you walked forward into the lecture hall, thankfully not late before parting ways: her going to sit next to a few other athletic looking girls with tight ponytails, and you going to sit near the front (curse your poor eyesight).

To be brutally honest, after that little interaction, you almost completely forgot about the handsome canadian girl with charming eyes from your environmental engineering course. Almost. You saw her about a few times: in the distance on the playing field, walking around campus. But you hadn’t really talked to her since that first class at the beginning of semester. Everytime you got into class she was already there, sitting next to the Bruins girls, pen in hand, with deadly focus.

You reasoned that it would be impolite to interrupt her, it would be nosy to try join her little group and it would be downright stalkerish to try track her down across campus.

Not to mention the university work that was flooding in… it was not stopping for anything, that’s for sure, definitely not your strange hang up over a girl you had one interaction with.

Your reasoning for this preoccupation was simply that you missed home: Canada seemed so far away especially as the weather only got warmer. This girl was simply a reminder that the faraway moose land was real! Additionally, maybe your brain got confused: a kind interaction plus the familiar Canadian accent equals weird unreasonable attachment.

You shook your head and tried to refocus your eyes in the screen in front of you. You had been staring at the blank document you so long that your head had started to ache and the hot chocolate you bought before you sat down was now definitely cold. The cafe was one of those tiny ones with maybe three indoor tables and a booming espresso machine that took up most of the counter space by the cash register and drowned out the soft music echoing from the speakers.

You had found it during the second week of semester and now frequented it most afternoons to try and crank out as many assignments as possible. Routine was important, you must understand that.

You squeezed your eyes shut and rubbed your temple before being rudely startled by a tap of the shoulder.

“Jeezus! give a girl some warning please!” you snapped before looking up at the offender. Brown eyes stared back at you filled with an amused glint.

“We gotta stop meeting like this” she laughed. The same laugh that showed off her handsome features and warm glow.

“Oh hey! It’s um… you!” it wasn’t meant to sound like a stutter but it came out that way anyways.

“Jessie” she smiled softly, catching your fumble “Jessie Fleming? We have some lectures together?”

“Yes no! I remember sorry. I just didn’t catch your name” you rambled, feeling suddenly very foolish. She patted your shoulder to pull you out of the spiral.

“I know. I’m just messing” she sat down in the seat opposite you with a sigh.

It was then that you really looked at her. She looked very much the same as she had the first time apart from a few key things: her hair was shorter (sitting just above her shoulders whereas before it had hung in a long plat down her back) and her left eye seemed strangely swollen and purple.

“Um… get into a fight Fleming?” you asked, indicating to her, now obvious, black eye. To your surprise she laughed!

“Oh this old thing! No just a bad tackle during soccer practice” she grinned, poking the swollen lid with a dramatic wince.

“Soccer… OH! Oh it makes sense now” you lean back in your chair and look at her like you had only just noticed her properly.

“Fleming! 21! bruins midfielder! God I never made the connection!” you laughed, feeling stupid. Maybe if you had payed more attention to the sport at your SPORT university, you would have found out her name sooner.

“Oh hush. It’s really nothing” she muttered looking embarrassed.

“No, shut up Fleming. No it isn’t! I heard a girl in the library talking about your goal in a match a few weeks ago! Boy I know jack shit about sport but I know it was impressive” you hissed back eagerly.

“No really-“

“Take the damn compliment Jessie”

“Fine! Thank you” she smiled awkwardly with a role of her eyes “It was a pretty good goal I guess”

You smiled and watched her for a long moment as she settled into the seat fully. Your eyes followed her perfect nose, flickered up to her eyebrows before coming to rest at her lips. How could someone look that good so effortlessly?

“Staring is rude” she stated bluntly, as her lips curled into a smirk. You looked away with a jerk, cheeks flaming.

“I- I was not!”

“Okay…”

“I wasn’t staring! You soccer types, always so big headed!” you mumble, crossing your arms across your chest. You felt childish: of course you had been staring! God how silly that this girl, Jessie, thought you could hold back from staring at her! You’re only human after all.

“I-“ Jessie started to speak but cut herself off, her mouth hanging open slightly.

“Yes?”

“I might be out of play for a few weeks. Concussion protocols and all that but… well stop me if this is too forward but, I’d love for you to come to a game? One of my games I mean” her question ended in a rush before she leaned back from the table with big curious eyes. You stared back, dumbfounded. It took a shake of your head to get you to respond.

“You want me to come to a bruins game?”

“Uhh. Yes?”

“You know I don’t know anything about soccer?”

“I did assume that, yes.”

“But you want me there?”

“Yes.” her tone was soft but firm, determined. “I want you to come to a game please. To watch me play? Or we can watch it together if I’m still out for injury?”

You laugh and clap a hand over your mouth.

“Are you asking me on a date Jessie Fleming?” you spit out, feeling suddenly emboldened by the other girls flustered expression. Jessie’s cheeks only became redder at your sudden inquiry.

“Yes please?” came her hopeful squeak.

You grinned and leaned over the table, placing a soft kiss on her cheek, just under her bruised eye, before sitting back in one swift movement.

“Ok. But you’re going to have to let me wear your jersey 21. Oh, and explain the offside rule.”

Jessie groaned, but her pink cheeks gave her away.

“Fine. It’s a date.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #ucla jessie fleming

68 notes · View notes

opalisprocrastinating · 2 days

Text

PMD Special Episode 0 Romhack: Secret Cutscene!

NOTE: This post will contain minor spoilers for the Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Time, Darkness, and Sky games as well as a romhack based off of it: Special Episode 0: In a Dark Past Well. This wasn't exactly what I expected for my first post, but I sure as hell ain't complaining! I'm making this post since I discovered something that I haven't seen posted anywhere, so I thought I might as well share it. Sorry if it's a little long! First off, a bit of context: Thanks to numerous fanart, I've begun playing a PMD romhack called Special Episode 0: In a Dark Past. It's a romhack of the Explorers of Time, Darkness, and Sky games specifically, delving deeper into the backstories of two of its characters: Grovyle and Dusknoir. As a massive PMD EoS fan, I've been enjoying it so far! Highly recommend it to anyone who's a fan of these games or characters and the writing is great! You can check out the creator's Twitter here, the hack download should be in a pinned post: https://twitter.com/PKMM_ESPEP0 It was when I got to a fight with a Vespiquen and her Combee that I got a little curious. Before I picked up this hack, I'd already watched a short playthrough of it and knew that you were supposed to lose this fight to continue the story (Vespiquen is ridiculously strong and uses Silver Wind, which basically kills you from anywhere). But I wondered if it was possible to beat it. After all, I had a lot of stun seeds by this point, and Duskull knew both Disable and Hypnosis which could stall the Vespiquen.

So I did. Though I must first confess, I didn't do it 100% legitimately. I don't own a DS, so I play all my games using emulators, including both PMD EoS and this romhack. Thus, I was able to save right before the battle so I wouldn't have to reset and go through the entire dungeon every time I lost. So while I did manage to beat the Vespiquen fair and square from start to finish, I did do a couple resets to save time. But that's not what I made this post for. After beating the Vespiquen, I unlocked a secret cutscene! I haven't seen anyone share this before, so I thought I might as well put this out there for anyone who is curious. For anyone who's read this far, thank you so much, and here it is! (It's quite long at about 7 minutes, but it's totally worth the watch!)

Thanks for reading through this one hell of a first post! Like I said, I really love PMD and from the little I've experienced, this romhack is just as beautifully written. Highly recommend checking it out if you haven't! I wonder if I should start posting PMD fanart of my own...

#grovyle #dusknoir #pmd #pmd2 #pmd eos #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd romhack #pmd se0

47 notes · View notes

multiplicity-positivity · 2 days

Note

i wish someone would just invent an app like simply plural but where you can easily share it. everyone says use google docs or something else like it where you can't create individual profiles that don't clutter the page. we have a lot of alters and we're getting increasingly frustrated that we can't find anything to list them in a way that isn't overwhelming. our alters also like to visually represent themselves but don't really have anywhere to have like a gallery or anything. we do video visits with our therapist so we can't physically show her our phone. it's so frustrating.

Ah yeah, we feel you there. Our system uses Simply Plural but it can be kind of clunky or difficult to use for our specific purposes sometimes (not knocking the app at all… We love the app and use it all the time, we just agree that there are certain features that it just doesn’t have).

Maybe making some sort of physical journal or binder could help you guys. If you have access to a printer, you could print out little picrews or other images to include, and you could also draw and write in it, too. That way, you could have something to bring to therapy that you could show your therapist without needing your phone for it.

Also maybe consider making a Carrd? Though I think the unpaid version of Carrd has restrictions for the number of pages and images you can include, so that could probably cause some issues.

We know the website Lighthouse doesn’t have an app, and we haven’t personally used it so we can’t speak to its features, but maybe it has some capabilities that might work for you? Could be worth checking out…

If anyone knows of any Simply Plural alternatives that work well for outside sharing, please let us know!

#simply plural #lighthouse #system organization #external system management

25 notes · View notes

iliektehhaxs · 2 hours

Text

I was thinking of the calling your boyfriend your husband trend on tiktok and I started thinking about the 141 boys reaction to it, so enjoy 🥰

Simon

It’s completely on accident, you’re checking into a hotel for your anniversary and it slips out, not even aware you’ve introduced him as your husband until the receptionist repeats it back to you.

“Mr. And Mrs. Riley, correct? Here’s your key card.”

Your heart skips a beat, ready to correct her when Simon eagerly takes the thin piece of plastic.

“Appreciate it. Me and the missus have a long day ahead of us.”

Fear turns to surprise, which turns to glee all in the span of seconds. The elevator ride is filled with the sounds of each floor, as well as your racing heartbeat. Simon’s tight lipped as usual, but you notice he seems much more relaxed, compared to your frantic state.

He called you missus. You might have done it on accident but there was no excuse for your boyfriend, you know him well enough to say that with confidence. He’d never joke about something like marriage if he didn’t really mean it.

Simon’s the first one to speak when you enter your room.

“So, husband? That the alias we going for?”

You rack your nerves for anything to say, eyes darting from Simon’s eyes to the floor. He can tell it was an accident, but he can’t help tease you a bit, you’re adorable when you’re shy.

“Far from the worst thing I’ve been called—suppose we keep the nickname after the vacation, yeah?”

Gaz

He gets very proud, if he was a dog his tail would be wagging faster than the eye could see. He wouldn’t doubt his new nickname for a second, loving every minute.

“Husband, yeah?” He says, an infectious smile spreading across his face. “That’s it then?”

“Mm, yes it is,” you reply, barely able to hold back your own amusement.

“Where’s the ring then?”

“I’m sure I could buy you a ring pop—“

The noise of disappointment that leaves him is criminal. “A bloody ring pop? That’s what I’m worth now?”

“Yup,” you answer, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Because you’re as sweet as one.”

He huffs indignantly but doesn’t pull away from you, so you keep kissing him until he’s forced to return the favor, lips against yours.

Johnny

He’d be the first one in the relationship to call you his wife. He’d say it was an accident, but then he’d be a liar. The first time it happens is a month after you’ve been dating, he’s talking to a friend on the phone and casually says—

“Yeah, I’ve got the wife cooking me up something nice right now, can’t wait to eat it.”

—to which you turn around, stunned. For a moment you think you heard him wrong, until he turns back to you smiling like the cat who ate the cream.

You don’t question it, but you can’t deny how warm the title makes you feel. His little Freudian slips keep happening over the course of your relationship, and after a year he finally gets the courage to call you his wife—officially, this time.

Price

It comes naturally, John always calls you anything but your name and you having your own assortment of epithets for him. You two were often confused for a married couple with the way you hang off each other, so why not lean into the idea?

You’re greeted with the heavy sound of his footsteps, the jingle of keys outside and then the sight of him fills the doorway.

“Got you the mail darling—bloody junk mailers don’t know when to quit.” He says, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. His beard tickles your skin as he does—a welcome comfort you’ve become more than used to.

“Mm, thank you baby,” you whisper. “You’re the best husband a girl could ask for.”

“Husband?”

His lips are turned in amusement, while you’re becoming more nervous with each passing moment. You start doubting whether or not he’d be comfortable with the name, confidence waning with each second.

“Boyfriend, I mean,” attempting to backtrack but John doesn’t let you get away that easily.

“No no no, don’t start lying now,” he grins. “Go ahead, say it again for me.”

He thrives off your embarrassment, enjoying the way you hesitate to answer. “Don’t leave me waiting doll.”

“It was an accident,” you sigh in defeat. A lie, of course, one that John sees through immediately.

“Didnt sound like an accident to me,” he says, leaning down to kiss you again. “And suppose I wanted to call you my wife, what then?”

You stammer, unable to answer. He smiles at your dumbfounded expression before leaving you to your own thoughts.

#call of duty #call of duty fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader #john mactavish x reader #john price x reader

24 notes · View notes

cripplecharacters · 1 day

Note

Hello! Want to double check that I've done a decent job of avoiding disfiguremisia, and try to turn it into great counter to hatred instead of just an okay one.

Preface: I have a form of memory loss and likely brain damage so I cannot always phrase things clearly although I will try my best.

Personally I do not feel happy reading escapist stories as that happy ending is not achievable for real people. We don't get to live in a place that's completely safe and free from judgement. I'd like to write people in a hostile world who find love and safety and community, however this does necessite writing hostility. I want to make sure I'm doing so with care.

I would like to make sure that the hostility written as tension does not tar how I write how one of the main characters. He should be written with dignity and respect even when he is not being treated well by those around him.

One of my characters is blind and develops severe burn scars. He wears a blindfold to help with photophobia and sensory overwhelm, but takes it off when its dim. (CVI plus autism.)

While he does wear a cloth coverings in public due to ugly laws, he views it as a ridiculous requirement and happily removes this mask when with friends. He also enjoys that being visibly strange or somewhat unnerving to most people means that shallow people who judge by appearances avoid him.

Question: what other things might I be able to employ to counter disfiguremisia? I have him being content with his face as it tells a story of his life and he's a blunt, forward person, not covering his face for most of the story despite laws necessitating that he do so, and a few other things too (and many side characters with facial differences and deformities also).

Also none of the central plotlines centre around facial difference. He's joining a servant rebellion, befriending a bitter exile intent on status at all costs, and discovering the truth of history. (Also a mind controlling octopus being is involved and a semi sentient moon amalgam thing but don't worry about it everything's fine.)

I think later books will be a more effective counter due to lack of ugly laws and him finding a lovely interest. I will also do my best to make the counters feel real and feasible - I want it to feel like an achievable option for those who deal with prejudice in the real world. I want his happy ending to feel real.

I respect the hell out of escapist fantasies it's just that they do nothing for me personally. I really want to write someone dealing with a lot - more than I ever have - and coming out the other end happy. Yes this world is hostile and will judge me but I can find joy despite it all. Some say the world is universally cruel but I have not found this to be the case. It is wise to be wary but myself and friends can create small sections of time and space where no precautions are necessary. Am I not part of the world? Are not they? The world is not universally cruel as long as I and those I treasure live in and we are not extraordinary, simply uncommon, and what is uncommon is still a great bounty. (Something to that effect.)

I'm set on what I want to write but the specifics I'm more than happy to change in order to bring joy. Do you have ideas on how I can do this full idea full justice?

Hello,

before getting to your actual ask, I have a "few" questions about the premise of the story itself.

You mention that you don't like escapist fantasies - that's fair. Taste differs; you can write whatever and that's great. But I do find the insistence to write a story about a specific type of discrimination as an outsider rather strange. If you want to have facial difference representation, I assume you want to have readers with facial differences, correct? I mean, I don't think that many able-bodied people would be too interested in it specifically considering most don't know what it is. So okay, this is supposed to be a story of characters with facial differences overcoming centuries worth of hatred and all that. Arguably more, considering that disfiguremisia and ableism go all the way back to Biblical times.

Why are you the person who needs to tell this story?

Just as people with facial differences are readers, we can be authors as well. We tell our stories. I will take an #OwnVoices book over a one that isn't that any day, and this fact will influence the rest of this answer. I'm a firm believer in #NothingAboutUsWithoutUs and all when it comes to this stuff.

Have you talked to people with facial differences who would be interested in the kind of story you want to tell? Do you know what they want to see from an author that's not taking it from their own experience? I don't count here, because as I made clear before, I'm not and won't be interested in it. I also don't know anyone in the community who has ever said "I wish more people without our experiences wrote about how hard it is to be us!". You need to make sure there are people who want this.

So, have, or will you, reach out to those that could like it? Sensitivity readers, random people online who like to read about disfiguremisia in their free time, advocates who work on media-centric problems? Anyone who would enjoy it is automatically a better candidate to help than me. I'm too jaded, I suppose.

If you want to talk about people with facial differences in such detail and setting, you need to get to know us. One guy with a specific set of opinions from a blog on Tumblr isn't that (thank god), but I guess I can serve as a reminder that not everyone will be excited to read a book that represents them in some way. We still have preferences.

To write it, you need to involve yourself in the community, start actually spreading activism about our issues. Preach about Face Equality and celebrate when our once-a-year week happens in May. See what disfiguremisia causes. Share our efforts to get all the problematic garbage off the big screen. Read our stories. Understand us as people who are incredibly diverse, and that not all of us like to be described as strange or unnerving.

If you only want to talk about our suffering as some quota to fill on a "types of discrimination" list, it will always be flat and inauthentic, and if you don't put in the effort it's pointless. We don't want tragedy porn, and we don't need to be included in every story about struggles that just wants some brand-new type of bigotry in it. We want authors who care about us, the living and breathing people. And sometimes it might mean respecting our opinions on writing disfiguremisia.

Here is a great post by @writingwithcolor explaining the effects of tragedy exploitation. Not everything there applies, but I would consider it a very valuable read.

If you think about all this, and decide that you are ready to write such a heavy, community-based story, go ahead to...

Actual Answers! Hooray

what other things might I be able to employ to counter disfiguremisia?

Sympathize with him. Disfiguremisia is a tragedy, it's brutal and it hurts. It's traumatic and impossible to forget, even if it wasn't happening constantly just to remind us that it's still there. On this note, I would recommend you research writing characters with PTSD.

Have him think about it. Sometimes I get home after getting stared down on the street and just want to yell. You don't forget a microaggression or a hate crime after five minutes. Let him vent and let him be upset. He can have flashbacks or recall similar situations that happened in the past.

I'm glad that he's aware of disfiguremisia unlike a ton of characters who are somehow always unable to figure out that it's a problem. If the ableism he's facing is so systemic and severe, individual people will be even more extreme. You can have him remember that the shop owner was a slur-spitting bigot, or that his neighbors avoid even talking to him. I want him to call them out - in retrospective, at the moment, in his head, whatever - on what they're doing. Throw a "not this fucking thing again" or something in there.

The minimum is to make him feel like a human with an internal thought process, who is able to actually experience what's happening to him, and for it to have long-term effects.

Also, outside of the whole disfiguremisia thing and me being overdramatic, check out our #blindness tag, and research burn scar care. If you don't show the boring and mundane, it will only feel closer to tragedy porn; just a sad thing one after another.

I will also do my best to make the counters feel real and feasible - I want it to feel like an achievable option for those who deal with prejudice in the real world.

This I think is the part of the ask that made me the saddest, and not because of what you wrote. I tried to think of achievable ways; ways that we did it, tried to do it, and are doing it, and one-by-one I crossed them out as "didn't work", "no one cared enough" or "kinda worked but honestly, it didn't". Face Equality is basically non-existent, not matter how much it hurts me to admit it! We are trying our best, and it doesn't work. It's just plain hard for me to come up with suggestions for this.

In fiction, I suppose that personal resistance is the way when it comes to this. I don't think there are feasible systemic changes that could happen that don't border on magical thinking or get into the "singular glorious revolution that somehow fixes everything and everyone lived happy ever after. We fixed racism, yay!". This just sucks.He could try to educate the people who are willing to listen - that's somewhat what I'm trying to pull off here on this blog, I guess. Sometimes it works, often it doesn't, but in his situation it wouldn't hurt to try.

The fundamental part here will be whether your character is able to find a way to make the ordinary person care in the end. To me, society who still hates us just as much, with a small group that thinks we're okay isn't a happy ending. The opposite, rather. It's cold and isolating to know only your friends could value you as a human being, and downright sad to imply that we should be happy for that. I don't mean that everyone should love us in every story, but there's a difference between The Ableism being represented by an antagonist or two versus the entire world except for the main characters.

If you decide to go forward with this story, I do hope your other readers with facial differences enjoy it!

mod Sasza

[This ask was submitted before my announcement of not taking questions regarding this subject matter. As of publishing this, it still applies.]

#mod sasza #anonymous #face difference #disfiguremisia #tw ableism #long post

27 notes · View notes

haveyouseenherlately · 2 days

Text

pov: you go to one of their gigs

old ramble written last year.

warning: 18+. follows no timeline. not proofread, so grammatical errors and typos.

masterlist here.

not. this. again.

no matter how fucking hard you tried to keep it together, you somehow always found yourself crying over the same idiot, tall boy. for nearly three years now, you’d tried to shake off your feelings for george but at this point it honestly seemed impossible. you always fell for his attention even though you knew it was a sick, toxic cycle. sigh. you couldn't do this to yourself anymore.

it was mid october. you were at a venue in london waiting for the band to take the stage. george had asked (well, more like begged actually) over the phone for you to come to their gig that night even though you were drained and exhausted. "please. i miss you." you didn't know if his plea was sincere or not, but it made your heart beat faster. you hated to admit you missed him, too.

"fine, but don't count on me for anything after." you had worked 12 consecutive shifts to stash away some money as you wanted to do some travelling around europe. you were in your early 20's. you were supposed to have fun, get lost in random cities, take drugs with strangers, all of those things you saw on films and tv. while you loved london, you wanted to visit some places with a bit more colour to them and try to forget about him for at least a few weeks or so. it wasn't too much to ask for, right?

after he convinced you to show up, you figured you might as well try to make the most of your night out. you stumbled upon him and ross when they were out for a quick smoke, george quick to plant a kiss on your cheek followed by a tight embrace that lingered longer than expected. he was warm and, to your dismay, it made you feel warm inside, too. it seemed that every chance he got, he would touch you in some way, whether a brush of your arm, a hand on your lower back, a gentle grip on your hip. you tried to not think much of it knowing you couldn't afford to get tangled up in this mess all over again. you loved him (to some extent) but the sleepless nights and ongoing fights were not worth it anymore.

when the opening band finished, you made your way to the front to watch them perform from a closer spot. you had attended many of their gigs at this point and you genuinely fell in love with their music, albeit you wouldn't tell them directly. you had too much pride for such confession.

the gig started, the fangirl in you waking up and getting excited to sing along, forgetting about your exhaustion and lack of sleep. matty noticed you, giving a small wave and blowing a kiss in your direction before diving into the next song. while george was the one who unfortunately held your heart, you had a soft spot for the front boy, even having made out with him several times before just for the hell of it. alcohol and weed might have been involved, though...

after a few more songs, you couldn't help but notice the way george effortlessly played on stage, arms moving in calculated motions, messy hair swaying from side to side. he would look straight at you, wink and bite his bottom lip, which just made you laugh. he hadn't changed one bit. you remembered him doing this same routine at your place whenever he craved your attention. and george did it because he knew it worked like a charm. you had to admit it felt nice to have his focus on you, making you wonder if maybe, just maybe, the two of you could work it out again.

when the show ended and the boys went backstage, you managed to sneak yourself back there after 20 minutes or so, in hopes of finding them and saying your goodbyes. you kept opening every door to check if it was their dressing room, but you had no luck for a while.

you twisted another handle, opening the door and your heart sank to your stomach, making you feel instantly sick. in front of you happened to be your dear drummer with another girl's head between his legs. you were not quite sure which words left your lips, but they must've been loud enough for the both of them to turn around and take notice of you. this couldn't be happening. not. again.

you shut the door and quickly walked through the corridor, trying to find the nearest exit to get some fresh air in your lungs. not again, not again is all you could repeat in your head. you couldn't believe that somewhere deep inside your gut, you hoped that this could be the time that george and you kissed once more and went back to your flat together. why did you even think that would happen? and most importantly, why did you even want it to happen? not. again.

"fuck. i'm—i'm sorry." you were staring down at the floor which made you bump into someone. "i'm sorry." you kept apologizing as you made an effort to step away without looking up. you knew there were tears streaming down your face and didn't want anyone to see the mess you were at that moment. but you felt a tight grip on your arm and heard a familiar, warm voice call your name.

this is what finally made you turn around. "i'm sorry, matty. i can't..." you tried to break free from his grasp but he continued to hold on. "what's going on, darling? are you okay?" there was genuine concern embracing his words which made you cry ever more. not right now for fuck's sake.

you looked away, embarrassed at your state and not wanting to admit to him (or yourself) why you were uncontrollably sobbing. "hey. what happened, what is—" his voice trailed off as someone else seemed to be hurrying in your direction, calling your name, too. an exasperated george now stood besides you, breathing heavily. from running or coming in that girl's mouth, you didn't want to know.

"i've been looking for you everywhere. i can explain that," he pointed behind him, "back there." he was still catching his breath and it made you feel sick once more, taking every ounce of control to not vomit at that very second. the colour drained from your face as you started to shake, the tips of your fingers and jaw numb from a dangerous mix of anger and anxiety. he tried to grab your hand but you instantly recoiled, not wanting him to be near you, let alone touch you. "george, don’t.”

you saw as he nervously ran his long fingers through his hair thinking of what to say next. nothing. no words that came out of his mouth could provide any comfort, you were sure of that. you walked away, still trying to find the damn exit out of this hellish place. fuck george. fuck him for always pulling you in so close only to break you into one million pieces.

you finally managed to step outside, feeling lightheaded, heart still pounding in your ears. you found a dimly lit patch of grass and sat down, doing your best to focus on the cold air against your skin to try and keep him out of your mind. you felt so stupid. why did you think tonight would be any different?

great. someone was walking towards you. you stood up to leave. “please talk to me.” you turned to look at him. “please.”

“what do you want me to say, matty?” your hands covered your face as you continued to cry, not caring anymore if he heard you. you felt him inch closer, eventually putting his arms around you, holding you. “why does he always do this to me? why do i always hold on to his every word hoping that things will change? that he will actually want me.”

you felt his grip tighten around your shoulders. “he’s not worth it. he’s my best mate and i care for him deeply, but he’s not worth it,” he whispered into your hair. “please trust me on this one.”

all you could do was wrap your arms around him, yearning to hold someone close, to make you feel like you were for once safe and loved.

#matty healy imagine #george daniel imagine #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #george daniel x you #george daniel x reader #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic #matty #george #the 1975

37 notes · View notes

phantomgrimalkin · 2 days

Text

@moonwatermicrofics May 29 Prompt: Books

Rating: G (so I initially wrote 'e' thinking video game 'e for everyone' and I apologize to anyone I disappointed) Contains loose reference to child abuse (Walburga) and anxiety.

Remus used black. Regulus used blue.

Remus had started it. With his secondhand books that were scuffed up and well loved before they touched his fingers, he had no difficulty writing all over them, marking them. Underlining, circling, starring, jotting notes on the sides.

Regulus had grown up getting his knuckles bruised for turning the pages wrong on priceless tomes. Ancient books, many one of a kind. Every book in the Black home was expensive and, in his parents’ eyes, worth considerably more than their child's comfort.

There was no space for Regulus’s thoughts in the Black library.

The first time that Regulus borrowed a book from Remus, he had been horrified. It had been marked to pieces, wrecked, defiled, graffitied, dog eared. His hands ached and he winced at the thought of what his mother would have done to him for such acts.

This thoroughly distracted him from the sheer audacity of Regulus Arcturus Black reading a book by a muggle author, and he had cast ink erasure spells on the entire thing in an attempt to ‘save' the book. Only to find out that muggle printing presses couldn't stand up to spells, and Regulus had to sheepishly explain why Remus’s copy of The Hobbit was now blank.

Remus handled it with amused kindness, the way he handled most things, and explained why he wrote in the books and that he didn't consider them ruined. Then he handed Regulus a copy of Frankenstein and a muggle pen, encouraging Regulus to try it.

The sight of Remus’s marks still filled Regulus with a sharp anxiety, but he did his best to ignore them and focus on the words.

A few dozen pages in, the panic settled and he was able to start appreciating it. He'd linger on the passages that Remus felt worth circling, then start considering the notes he added. He could hear them in Remus’s voice, soft and smooth, could imagine the way he'd rub his finger over his lip thoughtfully while he murmured to himself.

The first time Regulus Black intentionally marked a book was in response to one of Remus’s notes. The man had noted a dry ‘idiot’ at some of Victor's missteps, and Regulus had made a little check mark to show his agreement. It was a silly little motion, something that might have been unnoticed, except the ink was different. The pen Remus had given him was blue.

The flash of color showed up brightly on the black and white page. Remus’s words were the same color as the text, like they belonged there. Regulus’s mark stood out.

Panic filled him again- was this a test? Was he fucking it up? A lifetime of punishments for unknown transgressions reared up.

It was Remus, though. Who had been more patient than Regulus deserved and never seemed to get angry.

He chewed his lip. It was probably no big deal. Remus had said it was okay. Regulus could buy him a new book if it wasn't.

–

It had been an accident, that Remus had given Regulus a blue pen.

Remus didn't use them, but sometimes the store only had mixed packs of the cheap ballpoints and he'd end up with blue pens in his bag and had gotten in the habit of, whenever someone borrowed a pen, he handed them a blue one he didn't want.

If he'd been paying more attention, maybe he would have made sure to give Regulus a black one– but he was too amused by rifling through the pristinely blank pages that had once detailed Bilbo's adventures as a burglar while the pureblood had explained that he had panicked when he saw it was written in and didn't realize that spell erased muggle text.

Which was a very good thing. Because when Remus rifled through Frankenstein, curious, he found that the blue stood out. He could instantly tell which pages had been written on. From the first, hesitant little check more than halfway through, growing slowly more bold, until the final chapter was awash with azure marks, Regulus’s response to the emotional climax of the tragedy.

Remus smiled to himself, and made sure to always hand Regulus a blue pen when the man borrowed his books.

#THEY ARE SO SWEET I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #established moonwater #moonwater #moonseeker #regulus black #remus x regulus #regulus x remus #remus lupin #moonwatermicrofics

29 notes · View notes

shy-urban-hobbit · 3 days

Text

@elmonstro

Lambert finds out something about Aiden's past when the Cat accidentally gets triggered.

C/W past dub con/ non con but not between Aiden and Lambert. You have been warned.

The change in Aiden's mood was so swift it almost had Lambert choking. The scent of arousal moving to pure terror the minute Lambert pinned his wrists above his head, the Cats entire body going stiff as a board underneath him.

"Aiden?" He asked trying to catch the others eye, no easy task considering how they were rapidly darting around the room, looking at anything but him.

Looking for an escape Lambert realised.

"Please let me up." Aiden's voice sounded so small and meek and totally unlike the Cat who would yell dirty limericks at the top of his lungs, not caring who heard him. Lambert was off in an instant, barely moving away fast enough to avoid bumping heads with Aiden as he sat up, breathing deeply and absent mindedly rubbing his wrists, bringing his knees to his chest. Something had triggered him. Badly.

"Aiden?"

"Sorry, sorry. I just need a minute. I....it's fine. I'm fine."

"The fuck you are." Lambert went to put a hand on Aiden's shoulder in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture, trying not to let his hurt show when the Cat flinched away. This wasn't about him.

"Ok. I won't touch you, hands are staying right here. But will you please talk to me, what did I do that scared you?"

Aiden held up a finger and Lambert nodded in understanding before falling silent, wanting desperately to comfort the other but unsure how to until Aiden was ready to speak.

After several long minutes, the stink of Aiden's fear began to ebb away and be replaced with a nauseating mix of embarrassment and misery.

"I don't like being pinned down. I can't be pinned down, alright?" He gave a derisive laugh, still avoiding looking at Lambert, "I already know what you're going to say. You pin me like that all the time when we're training or wrestling but that's different it's not...sexual."

Lambert felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly at the implication, "Someone hurt you."

Aiden nodded, "More than I realised at first. I hadn't been on the path very long and...it was hard. I was lonely and miserable and then this person swooped in, they might have been the first one who wasn't afraid of me. They treated me like a person and weren't ashamed to be seen with me whenever I was able to visit them and I took it as a compliment how they only ever seemed to smell of lust when we were together and what they wanted in return seemed such a small thing in comparison...how could I say no when they endured so much shit just for being seen with me? It was a couple of years before some of my schoolmates found out and helped me realise exactly how fucked up this relationship actually was."

Lambert was fighting a losing battle to keep his anger in check as Aiden finally looked at him. All he could think to say was, "Are they still alive?"

Aiden shook his head, "A couple of my older brothers found me one season and told me they'd 'taken care' of it. They still refuse to elaborate on what exactly they did, but you've heard the stories about my school."

Damn. Lambert had already been making plans to present Aiden this bastards head on a platter. Oh well.

"And what do you need from me right now? Do you want me to stay or leave?"

"Will you stay?" He asked, looking at Lambert as if he was genuinely afraid the Wolf would refuse.

"Of course I will. You want me up here with you or on the floor?"

"I want to be held." The words left Aiden in a rush, "I'm sorry, I don't think I can...not now, but can you still just hold me. Please?"

Lambert shifted so he was lying on his side, "Nothing to apologise for Kitten, and for what it's worth, I want nothing more than to hold you right now. C'mere."

Aiden practically dove into Lambert's open arms, allowing himself to be enveloped as he snuggled as close as he could get without crawling into the others skin, "Thanks, Lam."

Lambert hummed in response, listening as Aiden's heartbeat slowed even more in sleep as the emotional toil caught up with him and totally unaware that his Wolf planned on keeping vigil the entire night to guard him from any nightmares which may be dragged into being by such unpleasant memories.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert

21 notes · View notes

simmyfrobby · 11 months

Note

I love your posts and I read a lot of poetry, do you have any recommendations? Like anthologies, authors, etc?

Hi!! Yes!! Of course!!

If you read a lot of poetry and are on Tumblr I'm assuming you've already read Louise Glück, Richard Siken, Jack Gilbert, Danez Smith, Kaveh Akbar, Ada Limón, Anne Carson and Mary Oliver. There's a lot of their poems circulating on here, so I'll try to rec poets I've not seen as much of.

In no particular order:

NOBEL PRIZE WINNER Carl Philips, Then the War: And Selected Poems, 2007-2020

Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces

Ilya Kaminsky, Deaf Republic

Paige Lewis, Space Struck

Wisława Szymborska, Monologue of a Dog

Hanif Abdurraqib, A Little Devil in America

Craig Santos Perez, Habitat Threshold

I've also really loved Anna Akhmatova's poems, but haven't read a full collection of hers. I'd recommend reading The Ecco Anthology of International Poetry edited by Ilya Kaminsky & Susan Harris, which features some of her work.

If you're just looking for a good way to discover poets you might like, check out the various collections posted by the editors on poetryfoundation.org. I like this one in particular.

And finally, not a poet, but one of my all time favourite theorists and a speech I keep coming back to: Judith Butler's talk on rage and grief. It's only about 10 minutes long and it might just be my favourite thing in the whole entire world.

#yes I linked a poem I like for each poet #its just #WORDS!!!#I LIKE EM #IM NORMAL ABOUT EM #thanks for asking #a lot of the stuff I read is a little bit older and often already fair well known so if you're looking for hidden gems you might have to as #someone who's more up to date on this stuff #Ilya Kaminsky and Kaveh Akbar both have a few interviews were they talk to and or about poets they like #so that might be worth checking out as well #okay im done now promise #it speaks #hockey poems

51 notes · View notes

cryptiduni · 9 months

Text

…i just saw this poll and my unevolved brain gel wriggled inside my cranium like a feral fish:

idk how you look at his official art and call him conventionally attractive. my man looks like a wet dog and has eyebags for daysss. face full of pox scars, skin pale af, and those shaggy ass hair & a rugged beard hanging from his flat long face.

he is pretty *to me* but like dude???

—not exactly a heartthrob boy band material is he?

obv I wouldn’t call him “misunderstood baby uwu” if we are talking a little more seriously —but to be fair jean is having possibly the worst week of his life. the car? fucking sunk. case? unsolved. not to mention his close partner (who is also an ass mind you) doesn’t even remember him, already running around with a new one.

yeah he is absolutely foul and aggressive and degrading harry but like i said before (in my tag essay lol) judit also makes ableist comments and i don’t see people hating her because she’s outwardly nice—

and respects harry as her superior. her BOSS.

(also a friend with benefits? /nope, it’s just him harassing judit/ as well but not as a complicated relationship compared jean and harry’s brötherbund. only a few months of acquaintanceship.)

plus it’s highhlyyy likely that harry is not the only one substance abuse. —look at jean’s rudolf-looking-red-ass-nose. a drunkard’s sniffers. probably had few lines with him late at night… when your lifetime partner is an alcoholic it's hard to say no.

about the left for dead thing, they left because harry told them to fuck off. tbh harry is nightmare to work with esp pre-bender. (and am saying as a pathetic little unmedicated neurodivergent woman.)

but when the second time they left revachol was not jean’s fault, and it was judit’s suggestion anyway. the squad probably thought that since harry had someone a little more responsible looking after him. it will be fine when they come back. the tribunal was absolutely unaccounted for.

yet despite all of these things, he will try to come back to make sure he is ok and accommodate harrier to the best of his abilities which is wearing very thin. look at him trying to make up to our harry boy:

anyways am incapable of writing coherent thoughts (even though i want to talk about it for hours) that make sense so go look at sygneth’s jean psychological analysis instead. it is an excellent read. please go read.

#op might wanna get their eyes or head checked lol. they looked at a little too much fanart.#+do not interact with the original poll. don’t look it up. it’s not worth it. don't give it traction. don't attract drama.#am sure op is just a troll. prob barely spent any time playin/readin DE. not that i am that much media literate but still...#i am sure there are things i left out. oh well...#i know that you need high EDC build run or lotta reading to understand so his “lore” so is kinda gatekept--#but it’s frustrating to see shit takes like this lmaoo #also don’t get me wrong i like judit. she is a tired working woman w/ a pathetic husband + 2x children. she just wanna grab jean & go home.#p.s stella as in stella from ‘‘helluva boss’’. idk didn’t like its S2 i think she coulda been more complex character.#but not everything needs to be deep and meaningful i guess. simple villains are ok.#her anger is justified towards her husband’s infidelity but she’s kind of a dumb royal brat. esp in s2. just calls of his assassination rig #heron vs secretary #angry bird vs angry bird shit fr beuh #disco elysium #jean vicquemare #jean posting #jean heron vicquemare #loyal is the he…#no. am not tagging HB or stella.#kinda long #longish post #cryptid rambles

92 notes · View notes