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#useless rant no one cares about
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sketchbur
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poolsidescientist · 11 months
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I think one of my biggest fantasies in life is being able to live somewhere/with someone that I can come and go as I please. Have my own car, not have to rely on other people or explain why I can’t be home of take care of people/the dog/etc. at all time. People think I’m greedy for wanting a well-paying job but having to take care of people you’re dependant on is really shitty and money would 100% solve this problem.
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autisticlee · 10 months
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I have so many characteristics that make me feel like dating would be absolutely impossible to do and navigate, because they're such undesirable things that no one wants. i
if someone DOES want/are ok with them, there's so few of those people that they either already found someone, or they're out of my reach/we'll never meet. and that's if THEY match what I want as well, which then makes that pool even smaller.
i'm autistic. i'm asexual/aromantic. i'm trans/nonbinary. all things that make dating extraordinarily difficult to begin with.
i'm also not smart, rich, socially acceptable, or conventionally useful. i'm not physically attractive/don't match societal standards. i'm not likable to most people and can't even make or keep friends. my interests are very weird and niche, and it's hard to find people who share them.
if I can't figure out how to make and keep friends, how am I ever supposed to date? that's many levels ahead of where I am, almost end game. i'm at level 0. the tutorial level. except my tutorial glitched out before I even started and won't work. so I can't advance.
yes, I have good characteristics that people would be lucky to have (like loyalty, willingness to communicate, honesty, going out of my way to be there for people I care about, etc) but those things don't overshadow the ones above. first impressions kill me. my most noticeable traits kill me again. I can't lie or mask. no one gets to the smaller "good" traits or they simply aren't ever enough.
this is why I never tried to date and never even thought about it until now. I gave up before even starting because I knew it would be a dead end, a waste of time and energy.
i'm going to complain further under here, despite already making like 10 posts about the exact same bullshit:
"until now." so, I need someone who lives in canada to date me so I can move there from US and be with the only supportive people I have in my life lmao. my closest friends, my found family, who meet my needs, respect my boundaries, go out of their way to help me, and reciprocate everything mutually and equally. they actually want me in their lives. it's not one-sided, for the first time in my life. I don't question their motives or loyalties like every other friend I had in my life. it's genuine and real and they've stuck with me for like idk 5 years now? meeting irl (which usually ends my friendships for some reason...I guess people don't like me after meeting me outside of my internet persona?) it was solidified even more that we are the found family i've been wanting and needing my whole life. why do they have to be in a different country that has an extremely strict policy for being allowed to move there?!
so back to the dating thing a big problem is that I have too many barriers that I can't hide that make people uninterested or dislike me. I also can't control other people. people are unreliable and difficult as hell.
throw on top wanting to date someone specifically to move countries and they might question MY loyalties and think i'm only using them. when actually, I genuinely also want someone who can be part of our found family and be my life partner.
unfortunately, I know it will probably never happen, since it's not even about "trying" or "not giving up." I literally don't know how to try to find someone. like where to look?? social medias are collapsing and I get ignored everywhere. dating apps are for more hookups, polys, cheaters, and bots/catfish than real partnerships. I have no clue how to make people like me because who i am hasnt done me any favors ever in my life. waiting around for someone to come to me first just wastes my time! plus i'm picky as hell and can't accept just anyone.
people keep telling me "keep waiting you'll find The One! don't give up! I was in a similar position and i found someone!" that doesn't help me. it doesn't give me hope or whatever. I prefer actual helpful things like "I'll help you get there!" if you want to "help." I prefer to look at things realistically and live in the moment. not a future I can't see. and in this moment i'm stuck in a shitty anti-lgbt state with unsupportive and unaccepting family who don't treat me very well and no irl friends i can trust and rely on. no one can say that will for certain change in the future. things don't always magically change for the better and if you aren't prepared for that, you'll always be stuck in one place, waiting. i'm not being negative. it's more dynamic than that. it's more "I need an alternative in case this truly is a dead end." i'm simply not getting my hopes up for disappointment and fooling myself into believing that doing nothing and waiting will help, while life passes me by.
but I also can't do anything. because I don't know how/what to do
and by can't do anything I don't mean in life in general. I mean about getting out of my parents house so I can be free from them and fond a safe and comfortable place. I can't afford it alone obviously. I unfortunately need other people on my life, as much as i wish i could be a lone gremlin human and never need others. and that's the part I have no clue how to do. if the only humans who want me aren't attainable, then what? i've tried for over a decade and only had failures because people are unreliable and turn on me without warning, after i'm the only one who puts effort into trying to help us escape our situations. i'm TIRED. I can't keep trying to do everything alone and end up hurt and betrayed by fake friends. i'm so tired.
(if anyone reads this, don't try to comfort me because it won't work. if you relate, you can share that because that's fine. if you want to help me by being a candian who can sponsor me to move there then that's even more acceptable 🤣 if you find you cant stand me after im permanently there, i'll appreciate your help and let you go lmao)
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shittywriterbrain · 1 year
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apologies to everyone who has to interact with me today or tomorrow because i just CANNOT be normal about hamlet and i WILL be doing this inside my head
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sandsofdteam-moved · 2 years
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everyone shut up about discourse. 10 minutes to new banter we can do this
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somefisher · 17 days
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Im gonna throw up im sick of feeling awful all the time
#dont want this to become a vent accoutn but i dont like venting on servers 😭#anyway i cant tell whats wrong with me. i dont even know if this is even depression i think i just really hate myself guys#because ive been depressed my whole life and i know what that feels like? maybe its a different kind. i got depression v2.0#but what do i even do about hating myself . like how do i even fix that.#i get mad at myself for not doing anything and then i actually accomplish something and im like. you didnt do it well enough? hello#i think one of my biggest current problems is that i dont like anything. like nothing is enjoyable to me anymore enough to commit to it#but i dont have anything else to do right now so im just sitting around wasting away and starting things but not finishing them#like what am i supposed to do. im not unhappy all the time but nothing is fun im just existing#i was joking but maybe I actually did unlock depression 2#which is another problem because none of my mental illnesses have ever been treated in a helpful way in my entire life#and i have some kind of if not multiple undiagnosed neurodivergences definitely. but im scared to try and get them diagnosed#because the last time i did i got told it was anxiety (IT WAS NOT I DONT HAVE ANXIETY ANYMORE AND I STILL HAVE THE SAME PROBLEMS)#and i cant even get anything done because i need help to do anything!#i feel so useless i cant do anything on my own because i just dont care enough id rather just like. sit here and die i guess#like im not even close to being s******* i know what thats like and its so much worse. thats part of why i feel so bad im not even that SAD#i just dont care. i think ssris fucked up my brain can i be real#oughh whatever. rant over back to playing pokemon#vent#talking#can i get an emotion. please one spare emotion#reading all of this back i truly think i just need to be pit on stimulants. but how do i get there i dont even have a psych rn...
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jiatiful · 8 months
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zooophagous · 2 months
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I'm gonna be contrarian here for a minute and rant about "cats aren't even good pest control."
Which, one study that found cats don't do well against rats is not the be all end all of reality. A cat may not go after Norway rats, which are large and aggressive, no. An adult male wild Norway rat is large enough to give almost any cat a run for its money.
But Norway rats aren't the only thing that exist and get into houses and barns. It is very cold where I live, and while I see mice and packrats and voles, I have never once seen a wild RAT. Wild RATS don't get into my garage. Deer mice do. Bushy tailed pack rats do.
And you know what fixed it?
My cat. He's not even an outdoor cat. He's 100% indoors, or in the garage but only with the door closed so he can't leave.
He single handedly removed my packrat problem. I didn't need to resort to poisons and while I did set traps, none of them had even half of his success rate. Cats were domesticated primarily because of how good they are at catching small rodents. Their success knocked other animals such as trained ferrets off the popular spot for the task. Claiming a cat is useless as pest control is just plain not true.
Cats are decent pest control WITHIN CERTAIN PARAMETERS. They're good for certain types of small pest, and cats need ro be CONTAINED. Much like poisons, you can't just throw cats around willy nilly because they'll kill a shitload of non target animals.
A barn or shop cat is a good option for long term mouse control *if* it is actually confined to that barn or shop and not free to just leave. A semi feral cat that lives in a large warehouse and is vaccinated and desexed and vetted and kills whatever tiny pests get in to chew on stuff is the best case scenario for an adopted feral.
What I do NOT get however, is the insistence that terriers are better and you should just get one of those.
A dog is not an easy animal to keep and nor is it one you should go purchase because you want long term pest control in your barn. If you want a pest control solution call an externinator. If you want a dog that's intelligent and driven and needs dedicated training and care and you're happy to put in the energy to actually focus its chaotic energy into something useful then go get a ratting terrier.
These little dogs do not fill the same niche as a barn cat and their care is quite a bit more intense in general especially if the dog is going to be a house pet as well as a worker. They're intense and destructive and can and will pick fights, often fatal fights, with other animals. Stop telling people to go get one when all they need is to get some squirrels out of a shed. Buying a dog and buying pest control are not the same thing.
You could *hire* a ratter to do a sweep, but unless you're also removing the conditions that made your property popular with rats to begin with you're going to have to keep bringing them back.
The kind of people who leave feral cats outside to roam and breed freely are the last fucking people who have any business keeping a working line terrier.
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rikli · 1 year
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going "home" for just an afternoon is perfect bc i hear the minimum amount of conservative bs 🤪
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dilatorywriting · 16 days
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Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 1.5]
Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 4.6k
Summary: There is a little, annoying human trapped in this bay with him. And he's going to eat them. (Vil's POV)
[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3]
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There was a little, raggedy human staring up at him from the sand, and Vil had never felt so miserably persecuted in all his years.
The thing had been bound to him in a mess of ropes and frantic, bipedal flailing, and he’d honestly thought that it had drowned. Hoped that it had drowned. But no, apparently he couldn’t be quite so lucky. None of his pod’s raids had ever gone so terribly, and normally he was better able to keep his head about him. But it had been Epel’s first attempt at sneaking on board one of the grand, creaking, human vessels, and maybe he’d been a touch concerned about it. Like a fretting parent sending their guppy off to the deep for their first solo-swim. And perhaps he’d struck a bit too quick and sharp when he saw things headed South. Not taking the normal care he would to assess for traps, or weapons, or stupid humans and their equally stupid, fraying ropes.  
But none of that mattered. It was hardly a crime to want to protect your family. It had happened, that was the end of it. There was no changing things. And now he was here. In this cove. With that thing.
You pedaled backward in the sand like those two legs of yours hardly worked at all, and even though it looked like you were retreating (rightfully so, at least you were smart enough to realize this was a lost battle), Vil still bared his teeth in a challenge. Because he was angry, and sore, and at the moment you were the cause of every, single one of his problems in the world. He tossed his tail in the surf, splattering stinging bits of ice water into your face.
“Stop! Stop!” you squawked, wheeling away like he was dousing you in acid rain rather than a bit of pissy water warfare. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”
“Of course you weren’t,” he spat. “From the looks of you, you don’t plan much of anything at all.”
You didn’t respond to his scathing insult, only kept scooting yourself back against the sand on legs that still apparently refused to work. Or maybe you’d simply forgotten about them. You seemed like you could be the type.
He ground his talons into the damp sand at his hips and felt the ridges of the fins along his spine prickling tight and painful, trying to puff out in a predatory display that they simply couldn’t because he was still bound in the godforsaken rope.
“I don’t know what your little plan was,” he hissed, “but you’ve done both of us a disservice. And while I’m sure you’re used to disappointment, I am not going to tolerate this.”
More silence. You looked—not confused, per se. But definitely not particularly keen on following his very justified rant against your person. Your gaze kept darting from his vicious glare, to his claws digging up the shoreline, and then to his lips. He could see your own mouth moving a bit alongside his, like you were trying to echo the shape of the insults flying off his tongue.
“Listen here, you fleshy rat,” he snapped, jabbing a black talon in your direction. “You’re going to tell me the course that your ridiculous ship had set so that I can return to my pod at once. Do you understand? And if you’re lucky, I won’t crawl my way up there to bite off your fingers one by one. How’s that sound?”
You blinked back at him with no comprehension, like his marvelous depiction of having your bones gnawed on for snacks just wasn’t a vivid enough picture.
The rage in his chest bubbled bright and hot, and the age-old magics in his veins zipped through his blood like a stroke of lightening.
Insolent brat.
Fine. He’d make you listen then.
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you said, and oh, you were a nuisance. He was going to rip your nerves out from the depths of your useless, human limbs. Feast on your bones until the marrow had been picked clean and leave the scraps for the gulls—
He parted his lips and sang loud and sharp—letting that familiar lull roll off his tongue like the sweetest poison. His Call had always been the strongest in his pod, after all. That’s why it was his job to keep them safe, to ensure that no one was lost in a hunt that was meant to be so simple just because they couldn’t keep their purple-headed curiosity under wraps long enough to not to be caught—
Vil turned his sneer back your way, fully prepared to see you kowtowed before him with your nose buried in the sand. And—
You were just sitting there. Butt in the muck and just as wide-eyed and brainless as before. Staring back at him with a startled sort of expression on your face and nothing else. Normally there was a sort of tether between him and his victims. A call, an answer. Simple principles. And while he could never see the tangible net of his influence tightening around their brains, he could always sense it. Or at least something like it. But this time, there was just… nothing.
Vil snarled, swallowing around the spiky pinch of something in his gut that he refused to call panic, and canted his head back to sing louder.
The shallow dregs of the cove rippled at his hips with the force of it, and he could feel the swell of his influence curling out further and further. Digging its claws into anything and everything it could reach. He could feel one tether spooling out and grabbing after the other, feel the familiar pull of subservience from the very sea itself. And—
“I can’t hear you!”
Oh, you mocking piece of—
He widened his mouth until his jaw was creaking and his tongue was going numb from the sharp bursts of arcana snapping from throat.
“It’s not a challenge!” you wailed, hands cupped over your mouth to try and shout over his howling song. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”
His mouth fell closed all at once, the Call cutting off so abruptly that the returning wave of snapping magics almost made his head spin. The power of it hung along his nerves like the zipping prickle of electric eels, and the water at his hips churned and bubbled.
“There,” you huffed, like someone who’d just been horribly inconvenienced by a gust of wind ruining their hair, rather than a human bearing the full weight of a siren’s fury. Brushing off some of the most powerful magics in the ocean like it was nothing worse than a bit of sand in your trousers. It was… unnerving. And it had something uneasy curdling in Vil’s stomach.
He dug his claws into the sand, fins flaring along his sides in a defensive display before he could help himself. Your eyes tracked the way the muck gave way beneath his talons and he watched your throat bob. Good. You should be afraid of him. Because he refused to be afraid of a human like you. No matter how the hair at his nape prickled or the fins at his ears pinned against the sides of his head.
“Well…” you said after a long moment, awkward and stiff. “I should get going, I suppose.”
And then you were stumbling your way to your feet to venture deeper into the crags of the small island. Vil smacked his tail against the surf, loud and sharp. A plaintive ‘good, begone,’ if ever there was one. But you didn’t even flinch, let alone turn around to witness his grand ‘fuck you.’ He wasn’t sure why he was expecting you to.
He watched you crawl your way up a mess of boulders and old shells, eyes narrowed and that same, unpleasant prickle running through his nerves. Once you were well and truly out of sight, he returned to his fins and started doing all he could to assess the damage. The sooner he could deal with this setback and set out into the depths of the ocean, the sooner he could return to his pod. And the sooner he’d be away from you, and all your strange, human ways.
.
.
You returned maybe an hour later, only a few minutes after he’d given up on trying to pick the horrid mess of twine from the wounds along his tail. His claws weren’t made for such delicate work, and the poisoned tips of them weren’t doing his shredded fins any favors.
He turned on you with a snarl that would have sent any other sentient creature scurrying for cover, fins pinned and canines on full display. But apparently you had less self-preservation than even the brainless, teeny, rock crabs burrowing hurriedly into the sand.    
“Hello,” you said. Like that was any way appropriate.
“Get lost,” he snarled.
You nodded back, simple and sage, and then pointed to the mess of your ropes twined along his fins.
“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”
Vil sneered and surged forward to scrape his claws through the muck again, hoping his demonstration of what he would do to your face if you stepped near him was clear enough to get through your head.
“Touch me and you’ll be lucky if all I do is eat you.”
You blinked back, and he watched the way your eyes jumped across his expression. Trailed to his mouth, his brow, his teeth. Reading whatever you could see there. And then you shrugged again, unbothered by his spitting threats as before.
“Alright. Your loss, I suppose.”
There was a keenness to your gaze though, a sharp, pointed consideration that had his hackles rising all over again.
“If you think that you can be rid of me that easily, you’re solely mistaken,” he spat, smacking his fins into the shallows until the water was churning wild and angry. “This is all your fault, and whatever ridiculous plot you’re considering, I’ll gladly return it tenfold.”
Your face pinched like you had any right to be annoyed by this at all, and then promptly turned away from him like you’d lost all interest in his theatrics. You meandered around the shore, scooping up the battered remains of some of the fish that had stranded themselves during his failed Call. Then you sat yourself well away from the water’s edge and pulled a knife from your boot, running it along the fish’s scales and clearing out the muck.
“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly, making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so. Like that little blade of yours was supposed to be any sort of a threat. Perhaps he could use it to pick the leftover bits of you out of his teeth.
Vil turned up his nose and returned to carefully grooming the shredded ends of his fins.
“You’re an obnoxious brat,” he growled, wincing as his claws caught over a frayed patch of scales and began to bleed all over again. “And I’m going to drown you.”
Naturally, you did not respond.
.
.
The rope burned, and he knew he wasn’t helping himself. The twine of it was frayed, poor quality. And combined with the tacky, salt-sticky damp of the waves, it made the worst sort of web. Vil threw himself around in the shallows like a pup stuck in their first net. And he knew—knew—this wasn’t going to make things better. But the more he worked to free himself and the less progress he made, the angrier he got (Not afraid, angry. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t).
A tight bit of fibers snagged along the delicate mesh of the fins at his hips and gave a shrieking riiip that had him collapsing into the sand bed with a bitten off noise that he refused to call a gasp. But Sevens, it did hurt. He pressed his face into the shallow pool of warm water beneath his chin and forced his breath to calm, to dig his claws into the grit beneath him rather than his own scales. Because this wasn’t working. And he—he needed to fix it. On his own. Because he was on his own. And he was going to manage, just like he always had.
There was a noise off on the shore—the tumbling of pebbles against stone as you shifted around in your little, makeshift hideaway. And he refused to look up to meet your gaze. Because surely you were staring. Humans were always so happy to watch his kind suffer, flailing about in their traps and bound in nets like a garish display. And he wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of knowing he’d been seen like… like this.
So he forced himself to go still and silent, ignoring the pain biting into his sides like the teeth of a shark and the panicked, clawing thing in his gut that kept screaming that he was going to die here.
.
.
The next morning, you were wandering the shoreline, scrounging after the remains of various crabs from the day prior. Vil refused to look at you, and spent the time pointedly running his claws through the tangles in his hair and primping himself like he didn’t have a care in the world. Because if a stupid, lowly human fit for nothing but an after-dinner-snack could thrive in these circumstances, than surely he could do even better.
There was the soft, wet sounds of your footsteps behind him, and Vil turned on you with a roaring snarl—fins pinned and spines perked, defensive.
“What?” he snapped, beating his tail.
You awkwardly held up one your pickings—a round, red crab with fat claws.
“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…”
Vil fought the urge to gawk. Were you offering him one of—but why would you—
He bit through his surprise with another sneer. “Firstly, crabs are crustaceans, not fish. You’d think any self-respecting creature that spent their days on the ocean would know something as obvious as that. Secondly, why would you even think that I would share a meal with you? Even I didn’t think humans could be that stupid, but you’re certainly setting a new bar.”
Your mouth twitched at his very sharply enunciated ‘stupid’ and he fought a smirk.
“Oh. Know that one, do you?” he cooed, all mocking.
“Look, do you want it or not?” you snapped, irritated, and his fins flared up again—wide and defensive.
Vil crossed his arms on an exaggerated, pointed huff and turned in the other direction. A clear dismissal. “I’d rather starve.”
“Whatever,” you griped, voice canted sharp with your foul temper, and then there was a crack and a yelp.
Vil turned back to see you reeling away, hand over your mouth to catch a mix of blubbering, wincing curses and a shattered crab shell clenched between your fingers in the most obvious show of stupidity he’d perhaps ever seen. He burst out into laughter before he could help himself, and you stormed away with warm cheeks and pieces of jagged, red shell still clinging to the corners of your lips.
.
.
That night he fought the ropes even harder, ignoring the way they pulled, and tore, and dug into places that he knew they should not. And maybe it was self-destructive, stupid, but if he didn’t get himself free of this horrible mess his fins would never heal. He’d never be able to swim properly again. And he’d never be able to leave this cove, never return to his pod, his family. Never—
A shell walloped him in the back of the head and Vil turned with a shriek so vicious it nearly startled even him. Because there you were—the bane of his existence. Standing at the edge of the water with that ridiculous, deadpan look on your ridiculous face and already scrounging about in the sands like you were looking for something else to throw at him. He didn’t even know what he was screaming at that point, absolutely brought over the edge in rage, and pain, and fear, and it was all. your. faul—
Then something in your expression snapped and you were storming forward towards the surf—absolutely incensed.
“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you shrieked, stomping in the sand and nearly pinning the longer, trailing ends of his fins beneath your heels. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”
“You trapped me!” he howled, outraged. “You were going to kill a member of my pod! Who’s barely out of his pup days! And he was my responsibility, and you were going to attack him!”
Magic zipped along his tongue, demanding that you kneel. Show your throat and be done with it. But when you just kept glaring back—absolutely stone-faced and seething with indignation—Vil forced himself to take a breath, and then another.
“Epel,” he spat, low and exaggerated. He saw your eyes flicker to his lips, trace the outline of the word. “Epel,” he said again, sharp and angry. And when your own mouth began to subconsciously follow the shape of it, he was off and running again. “He’s my responsibility. Epel. He—” Vil pointed at the pale, lavender creases at the base of his fins. “His hair is like this. You saw him. You spoke to him. And you were going to tie him up just like you did to me.”
Your eyes narrowed, sharp.
“That kid,” you said after a moment, lips twisting in a frown. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”
“Epel,” Vil spat again, smacking his fins into the surf to douse you in a mess of seawater. “Not some kid. A pup. Barely of age. And you were going to—”
“You—” you hissed, scrubbing the salt from your eyes with the back of your hand. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. It splattered along Vil’s hips, barely a sprinkling in comparison to his own tidal waves. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”
Vil snarled, and the twist of it left a bitter, rotten taste on his tongue. It wasn’t the same. It didn’t matter what you wanted, because you were just some human. Humans were vile, and cruel, and good for nothing but filling their bellies. And this was his family. So what if you claimed you were just standing up for your own brood? It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t.
So he turned back to dive into the shallows with as much force as his aching, crippled fins could manage. Sinking to the bottom of the cove in a huff of bubbles and clawing his way through the muck until he was well and truly hidden in the murky, sandy depths. He smacked his tail against the mess of pebbles and rocks until every creature beneath was scurrying for safety—fleeing outwith the flailing, destructive force of a Siren’s tantrum.
Was that why he was here, then? Bound and gagged on some hellhole of an island because of his own mistakes? Because you’d just been aligning yourself with the moral high ground he’d been riding this whole time? Saving your kin at the cost of your own, fragile skin. Dragged overboard to fight the monsters trying to devour your family whole. Ridiculous. He wasn’t going to let himself feel bad for the slighted prey in a hunt gone wrong. Sharks certainly didn’t regret the fish they chased, nor did the great black-and-white whales that pursued those sharks in turn. This was just the way of things, the circle of life. And he wasn’t going to feel guilty about the tight, protectivelook on your face as you shouted him down about defending your own pod at all.
.
.
You were curled up by the same rock the next morning, sleeping soundly against the rough hewn edge. It looked hideously uncomfortable, with your chin tucked up against your chest and your head pressed against half-a-dozen layered, jagged ridges. Vil had always heard that humans were used to luxury—soft, plush blankets made of foreign fabrics and great, stuffed squares of bedding that could put even the finest woven siren nests to shame. And there you were. Scrunched up with a shell clearly embedded in your cheek.
He frowned, fins rippling awkwardly at his sides where the majority were still knotted up in twine.
He needed to leave this cove. As soon as possible. And get away from… all of this.
It generally wasn’t considered the best of ideas to Call openly across the sea. Lone sirens were prime targets for all sorts of nasty scavengers. Human hunters, rival pods, even other rogues looking for a fight. It was dangerous to mark one’s position so openly, let alone in a manner that made it obvious of the less than stellar situation they had no doubt found themselves in. It was also a nasty toll to try and Call so far for so long, on himself and the environment around him. A screeching, horrible thing that he’d only heard a few times in all his years. It was a terrible idea for everyone involved, himself and his fellow castaway most of all. But, well, desperate times, and all that.
Besides, it wasn’t like you’d be able to hear it anyways.
So began his endless song.
He’d sing, and sing, and sing—feeling the ripples of it carrying across the surface of the water and shivering through the air. And then, after he’d worn his throat ragged, he’d pause. Just long enough to swallow around the sting and tilt his head to listen. His fins would flare out against the side of his head, and he’d wait. And then, when there was no answer to his Calling, he’d circle back and do it again. A part of him hoped there would be none. He’d taught his pod better than to do something so foolish—to put themselves at the mercy of all the monsters of the sea. And… if they didn’t answer, perhaps that just meant they were searching for him. Using his own, ridiculous harping to trace him down. And if not that, then at least that they were off somewhere safe. Somewhere far, and hidden.
He swam and sang until he was too exhausted for either. Bound fins a heavy, leaden weight at his hips and head barely cresting above the water.
When the sun set over the horizon, Vil let himself roll in alongside the surf to rest in the sand, boneless and sore. His eyes slipped shut with the encroaching darkness, too heavy to hold open at all. He hadn’t seen much of you today. Occasionally you’d wander down to the shoreline, head popping up over a cluster of rocks to shoot him a look that he couldn’t quite decipher, but for the most part you’d stayed hidden away. Out of his hair, at least. Perhaps you’d finally learned what was good for you, and that keeping as far away from the beast lurking in the shallows was the only way you’d be getting out of this alive.
And then his eyes were snapping open to a field of stars overhead and the moon hanging fat and low in the sky like a fruit ripe for the plucking.
And there you were, hovering over him with that laughably small knife of yours.
Carefully and gently working the rope away from his tattered fins.
Your fingers were delicate, precise. Every time those woven fibers tugged in a way that could even begin to hurt, you were softening your touch and muttering reassurances under your breath. He wondered if you realized you were doing that at all—chattering quiet, rambling nonsense like a nervous tick. ‘Ack, don’t twitch so much, it’s just going to cut deeper,’ and ‘sorry! Sorry! I didn’t think that would move like that! Just—just stay still and it will all be done way faster and then you can swim off, and—’ You were exceptionally careful over the areas of rough, beaten scales along the dip of his tail, wincing in sympathy at the raw, raw skin there. The blade never strayed anywhere it wasn’t needed, and you never touched any part of him that wasn’t in an effort to work another tangle of knots free.
Vil kept himself perfectly still and his breaths even and deep. He watched you through the low, golden dip of his lashes, eyes tracking your fluttering hands and quiet mumblings.
The last of the rope fell away with a wet, heavy plap in the sand and when you sighed there was a smile in your voice.
“There,” you muttered, soft. “Now he can swim home again.”
He froze, startled, and something dropped low and tight in his gut.  
Because humans were cruel. Humans were food. Humans were nothing more than vermin crawling over the surface of his ocean in their hunkering, wooden vessels and finless feet. They didn’t deserve sympathy, or anything of that ilk. And—
Your gaze met his and the spark of horrified realization didn’t even manage to settle properly in your wide, wide eyes before he had you pinned in the sand.
It was easy—far too easy. Compared to him you were so small, so fragile. No heavy, bulk of muscle and scales to help keep you alive and fighting. Just fragile limbs and lungs that were good for nothing. He dug his claws into your shoulders and felt the warm prick of blood curl up beneath his talons—could see you wince with the first pinch of acrid poison sharpening the wound. He was going to rip you apart, just like he’d said he would. Even if you hadn’t been able to hear him, he’d show you. Because humans were vile, and no matter what you’d claimed, you didn’t deserve anything better than an end beneath the points of his fangs. Fuel for the journey back to his pod and nothing more.
‘There. Now he can swim home again.’
He reeled back, nose scrunching and teeth grinding in his jaw.
You were still beneath him, blinking up in shock but not fighting. Like being flipped onto your back had been startling out of principle, but not unexpected. Like the idea of dying at his claws was just something you’d been expecting from the get-go.
And yet—
‘Sorry! Sorry!’ you’d been rattling. ‘Ah, if you squirm it’s just going to hurt, you stupid, overgrown fish—'
Vil reared back with a snarl that had goosebumps racing all along your arms, and then he was diving back into the shallows—swiping the tip of his fins against your nose as he went in a sharp crack that he hoped would have you yelping and stumbling away from the ocean’s edge.
He paced along the edges of the bay, newly freed fins slowly uncurling in the lull of the tide. And he felt free. Sore, certainly, and aching in ways he never had before, but free.
When he popped his head back out of the water, you were sprawled out in the sand like a dying starfish, absolutely out of your mind and babbling nonsense about ‘captains’ and ‘collars’ under your breath.
‘Good,’ he harumphed, diving back into the shallows to twirl along his unbound tail. ‘Maybe that would teach you to stay out of the water.’
.
.
[TAG LIST - CLOSED]
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a-small-safe-place · 7 months
Text
His Haven
Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader Pt. 1?
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
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When Homelander first met you, he just came in because Madelyn cooked up some scheme with Edgar to 'prove' that the members of The Seven were sound of mind and could pass a psychiatric evaluation similar to the one used in the army. Of course, you had been paid a lot of money to do the evaluations and even more money to ensure that these heroes passed no matter what they said. You were a respected psychiatrist in your field; that’s why Madelyn wanted you specifically.
Homelander went to his appointment, planning on leaving until you said something that caught his attention. You said, 'I am here for you. I took this job because you all spend your days helping and saving people, but at the end of the day, who helps and saves you? Obviously, I couldn’t physically save you, but I can be a place for you to talk if you need it. Nothing you say will leave this room.' Boy, did that stroke his ego in all the right ways. He decided to stay. Something about you was comforting, and he wanted to talk, so he started small with the obvious stuff. He led the conversation by making off-handed remarks about being better than everyone and having to be perfect for Vought. It was clear you didn’t understand his pain, but you were listening to him. You were actually listening to him and responding.
You weren’t like Madelyn, who seemed to argue with every other thing he said; you didn’t respond with dismissive and uncaring responses like Queen Maeve, and you could actually keep up with the conversation, unlike The Deep.
Homelander surprised you and himself when he began attending regular scheduled sessions. You usually led the discussion by asking various questions. Some questions he would lie about, not feeling totally safe to dive into certain topics, or he would just dodge the question and change the subject. Homelander knew you noticed this because anytime he did either of those things, your body language would change, and you would write something down in your little notebook. That notebook had made Homelander incredibly nervous until he found out you were not in there calling him a useless pussy. You were just simply writing topics you two had discussed and what topics made him uncomfortable.
You seemed to actually care about Homelander’s feelings, even the bad ones. Stan Edgar put Homelander in his place, and Homelander looked down avoiding Edgar’s pointed gaze like a child being scolded by their father. Homelander needed some reassurance, but he would never admit that willingly. Homelander felt weak and stupid for needing someone, but you didn’t seem to mind even when he was ranting and raving, so he went to you. You had been his haven. The one person he could confide in and actually be himself.
He arrived at your office in the morning while you happened to be filling out some paperwork. He knew you didn’t have any appointments today because this had been previously the day Vought scheduled for the evaluations of the heroes. Homelander spent the whole day pestering you. 'What are we doing now?' He asked, not entirely oblivious to your mild frustration. 'Still just filling out paperwork,' you replied. He rolled his eyes. 'God, your life is so boring. Go to work, talk to the crazies, fill out paperwork and go home, and you do that all alone? I forgot how boring normal people can be.'
You laughed before telling him, 'no one is keeping you here.' Homelander’s jaw tightened. This pissed him off. You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to offer to do something more fun. You seemed to notice that 1,000-yard stare he has as he retreats into his own mind. 'Look, I just mean that I have to finish work. I know it’s probably boring you to death just sitting here; you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,' you told him, which seemed to make him feel a bit better, but he’s not entirely out of his head. 'It’s fine, we can just talk while you work,' he tells you with a feigned smile.
Homelander begins to perk up while you finish your paperwork and finally asks you the million-dollar question, 'What are we doing when we get home?'
'I am going home to cook up some dinner and watch some television,' you told him, trying to hint that you were wanting to be alone. Homelander was undeterred. 'What are we eating? I could use a home-cooked meal. We could watch one of my movies. I’ve been told I’m a great actor.' Homelander needs you to agree and compliment him. He desperately wants you to tell him he does a good job, even if you’re just talking about acting. 'Yeah? Your movies are pretty famous,' you say, accepting your fate that he isn’t leaving you alone tonight.
The night is spent with him at your house. Homelander wastes no time making himself at home and pilfering through your things. He feels comfortable being so ensnared in your scent. He becomes more comfortable as the night carries on. You fix his plate and drink for dinner, and the two of you share a dinner that he perceives as romantic. Your food isn’t as good as the private chefs at Vought, but Homelander loves it because he got to see the love you put into making it just for him.
You two clean up together. It’s really you cleaning, and Homelander helps by talking about which movie of his you should watch tonight. Finally, you try to retire to your room, but he follows. 'I thought we were gonna watch a movie… it doesn’t have to be one of mine,' Homelander tries not to sound too desperate, and he hated to say that last bit.
'I had planned on watching something in my room, but you can come lay with me if you want,' you tell him reluctantly. Homelander is excited but tries to keep that hidden. You two lay down and begin watching one of his movies. By the end, Homelander is 'asleep.' He knows you can’t tell the difference in him and ignores you when you gently shake him trying to wake him. He’s not the biggest fan of sleeping in strange beds, but for you, he can make an exception. Next time, he wants you in his bed though.
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autisticlee · 6 months
Text
sometimes I really cant stand boomers and can't wait for their inevitable demise. i'm tired of hearing disgruntled old bigots who barely have any time left run their mouths, spread hatred, and blame us for the shit they caused for us to clean up. just go away. this world doesn't belong to you anymore.
#dont care if that sounds bad. ive seen enough good ones that i can count on one hand and we know how many there are#where i live is a town of mostly boomers#all the care about is themsleves and screwing over everyone else and blaming us for their fuckups#while being pathetic bigots who dont know how to be decent respectful people yet demand respect for themselves#why are people like this who have a decade or 2 left if theyre lucky making decisions for OUR FUTURE. when we dont want their shit#they want so bad to keep thinks like “the good ol days” and ignore the fact that we dont live in their generation anymore#they had their lives! they need to stop acting like we need to live their lives! things are different. try to improve things for us#not try to make us suffer like you did but at the same time act like you had it so good and were perfect little angels#and why the fuck are you all such horrible bigots that hate everyone different from you?????? i truly dont understand that#why do you think saying shitty to younger people and anyone you “dont understand” will do anything good? seriously#what good does that do? are you trying to make us hate you because its working. go retire into your graves already you useless sacks of meat#i dont care if im ~being mean~ some of those old freaks need to go and stop leeching off of us and blaming us for their shit#and being living pieces of shit while their at it#the good oldies can stay as long as they like tho but those are few and far between as i said#when i say boomers i dont include the good ones. theyre just sweet oldies. boomer basically now means disgruntled old bigot#lee rants#i just needed to rant after seeing comfy rich retirement fund boomers come onto this site just to scream obscenities at young people#as if that will do anything or motivate us to “want to work” or whatever the fuck they scream about. old little freaks leave us alone.#where are the good oldies? i hardly ever see them. id love to hear from them more! im so tired of the doomer boomers.#maybe i should call them doomer boomers from now on. theyre so negative towards everyone but themsleves and speak doom on us
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thatdeadaquarius · 4 months
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I have a random idea for some sagau crack loosely based on my dynamic with my friend so Im giving it to you because I have been enjoying your sagau language stuff :D
Imagine there are two readers that are two different people. Like, not as in clones they are just two separate people that are rlly good friends on earth. They both really like genshin and play the game, and they both have self aware teyvat citizens. Reader 1 is a whale. They invest a l o t of money on the game, have all the characters, and all the characters have five star weapons. They are like the usual sagau reader you see. They have used up so much money on getting all of the characters, and I mean A L L of them, best weapons, constellations and put a lot of care into it. The place where they really get to show off is their knowledge and love for the lore, and are really invested into it and read all of the artifact descriptions and books. They know about primordial one, the four shining shades, random useless facts about items and often rant to reader 2 about their theories. Their quest bar is always empty because they did them to check out the lore of the game, and are always searching for more lore. They basically play everyday and are always reacting and talking to the characters out loud, unaware that they can hear them.
Meanwhile, Reader 2 is a f2p who is only interested in the archon quest lore and the lore of their fav characters. Because they are f2p, their options are limited so there is some blatant favoritism. They choose their fav character to save up for, and then pull for them. After they get the character they want, they will no longer pull and save up from there. Because of this, they only have like 5 five stars and only have zero five star weapon. Their favourite character is their main(*cough* wanderer *cough*), and unlike reader 1 who uses all of their characters regularly, reader 2 sticks to this character for most of their gameplay unless they need to use someone else. However, reader 2 takes almost an entire month to finish building a character, because they go overboard with the artifact stats. You would expect to normally have a 50 180 crit ratio, but reader 2’s dps characters always, and I mean ALWAYS have 50 200 crit ratio or more. Like, their main (it doesnt have to be wanderer but Im putting him here anyways) has 70 and 200 crit ratio, is crowned, full 4 pc best in slot, and is even crowned and faruzan only needs like 200 er but reader 2 gave them 300. (Im totally not putting this here because this is what I did/j) Reader 2 is also the type to never speak while gaming, so the first time they spoke everyone turned it into a national holiday to be celebrated. They also play a lot less than player 1. Player 1 plays everyday while player 2 plays for a month straight and then takes a long break to wait for the content to pile up.
So these two gremlin besties are always speaking with each other, and are always on coop. Whenever player 1 needs help making team comps or building characters, they just ask player 2 for help. And whenever player 2 needs help understanding the lore of the game, they ask player 1. But all I can think abt is the first time they cooped. Imagine player 1 was using childe and then when the coop starts, both childe and wanderer are very confused as to wtf is going on. Like, childe is confused because he sensed a strange aura coming form them like whenever someone gets controlled by reader 1, and wanderer is confused because reader 2 seemed so excited that they were talking, but its just childe? Reader 2 always skips childe’s banners.
Thats it lol, hope this wasnt too long.
Not long at all! Or more like, I like long asks so feel free to share! :D
IM SO SORRY ITS LIKE MONTHS LATER TO GET TO YOU I PROMISE I LOVE UR STUFF AND AM SUPER EXCITED TO SEE IT,
IM JUST SLOW AND GOOFY 😭😭
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Said friends in genshin like: ^^^
this kinda inspires me/reminds me of @mists-reading-nook soldier/poet/king post, you should check xe stuff!! Gave me brainrot to this day tbh, like im imaging how that “3rd King style of worship” would look like even now lmao ive been down bad 😭
Sun: 2 Readers! (as desc. above), (you/they/them)
Orbit: Headcanons-ish
Stars: wanderer/childe, mentions of others i forgot to focus on any one character or nation :/
Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing language, & Trigger Warnings: none known.
Please comment if I missed any. /gen
dual symbolism everywhere, obv you both thought “for the twins” but it just kept getting out of hand the more the game updated over the months lol
like shrines/temples/churches showing up more often in new countries/areas and always identifying the same 2 gods
obv the for-the-lore player picked up on it first, and by the time the trickle-down effect happened, where characters/NPCs were outright talking about these gods, the 2nd was asking the lore knower to explain lol
the 2 gods kept getting referred to by a few names, like “The Soldier and the Scholar” or “The Sage and the Warrior” or “The Keeper and the Pursuer” etc.
after awhile of comparing both of your games, you realize that some vision users/gods tend to use the soldier/warrior/pursuer titles more often when talking about one of you, and the other gets the sage/scholar/keeper more often
u both get excited, maybe its bc you chose diff travelers or some other reason, but when u try and post abt it or otherwise ask other players u get a lot of negatives/”hasnt happened for me”s??
u both just think the games glitched or some dev is playing a prank on you two maybe,
it gets weirder when u both realize the lore player be over here getting random gifts from all the characters in the mail all the time
and just as grinding players like “ :’( my favs don't like me?? but they have the best artifacts and maxed friendship levels..”
they get flooded with multiple gifts from their main characters, most of which benefit the grind tbh lmao (like a bunch of cheaper materials or crystals to level up artifacts/weapons or to ascend that character = no more slaughtering every samurai on sight for their handguards or collected a fuckton of those blue layered mushrooms for wanderer)
god u were both grateful to this glitch ngl, it saved a lot of dumb misc tasks and was just a nice touch
no but the amount of confusion inside the game from when u first started playing together, like each of ur games began with stuff abt 1 god, then as u co-oped moved onto 2 gods (like said at the beginning)
the lore player is blabbing away like you do, which begins to be heard by the other player’s game world
like it starts as whispers in battle, then all the time, then a quiet convo in the background all the time, until they can just hear u out of earshot esp word for word when they focus!! at first the vision-users/gods got all excited bc their god was speaking!! finally!!! until I'm sure they heard narration that didn't fit/it was there sometimes even when their god’s presence wasn't?/voice sounded “off” to them/didnt fit their god…??
ok ik u were joking abt the national holiday,,, but I’m not. 😈
THE FIRST WORDS 2ND SPOKE BEING IN A PROPHECY, REGARDLESS OF WHAT IT IS THEY SAY.
Player 1, playing as Childe, steals a singular (1) sweet flower from Player 2, who has Wanderer out:
P2: “I seriously hate you. Listen to what I’m saying, I can’t stand you.”
(Wanderer panicking that its abt him- Childe freezing bc he managed to piss off a god that feels as powerful as his own- the PROPHECY LMAO- )
P1: “… you miss me.”
(everyone else: 💥vine boom sound 💥😦😨😰???)
P2: “I hate you.”
P1: “You miss me and you love me, why must we fight??”
(everyone else: 💥vine boom again💥🤨🫠??…)
P2: “I hate you-”
P1: “-we gotta good thing going on, you and I, why must we tussle??”
(everyone else: 💥yet another vine boom💥 💀💀)
(the absolute deep anxiety/pure confusion as the two harbingers heads just ping pong back and forth towards the voices lmao)
u two scare the shit out of any characters u do this with lol
they do get used to it as u talk, and the characters even manage to interact (thru hacking magical shenanigans and discord)
to send thank you gifts to player 1 for getting player 2 to talk more lol
along with sending copies of any lore books that player 2 has gotten that player 1 hasn't!
and it becomes common/tradition to exchange gifts like this to thank or appreciate the other god, like player 1 characters sending thank you gift copies of rare materials or ascension stuff that player 1 had that player 2 didn't (esp making sure to send during resinless hours lmao)
overall, 10/10, whats better than 1 god that plays one way? 2 gods that compensate for each other and now u have 2x the worshippers
(i wonder how meeting alternate versions of themselves would go, bc id like to headcanon that each of ur behavior towards them/ur unique influence has changed them a bit comparing, like they arent carbon copies anymore, not like they used to be…)
hey sorry for slowing down guys!!
i just feel bad its taken me forever to get to these asks, so i wanted to take what time i could lately and charge thru them so i could spam post lol
I've also been working on fics! so that's delayed things by a lot, bc fics take longer to “respond to” than short asks or replies
my poor bsd fic
Anyway thank you so much for sending this in!!! I'm so sorry i took forever to get to it, and i hope u enjoyed response/my brain shitting this out lol
have a good weekend!! :D
Safe Travels Anon!!
💀♒
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the-stray-pup · 2 years
Text
Jfc I wrote a novel in this one 🙃
#the stray rants#welcome to part two because I’m just that fucked up in the head#tw for literally everything dark because i don’t read my own mind and don’t know what’s gonna go down here#how important is staying clean?? cause I feel like it’s not that important when I know how to control it well you know…#no one would even notice if I did it I mean they never do and if they do they don’t say anything which I mean even better for me right??#and it’s not like anyone I talk to cares about whether or not I stay clean because I wouldn’t tell them anyway#not that they would care if I even did because no one listens to me anyway. I’m always just talking to myself with no one caring about what#i say. i mean y’all don’t even give a fuck about what I’m saying in here I bet. I bet no one is even reading this and if someone is then#it’s only like one person who once again does not give a fuck. i mean why would anyone care about me? this is the internet. everyone is just#worried about getting off and rubbing one out on here. who cares about some little depressed complainer who hardly has any friends and#complains more than he posts?? i mean seriously I bet everyone wouldn’t give a fuck if I suddenly disapeared from tumblr because they wouldn#even notice. and why would you? I’m not important whatsoever. a lot of people would be glad if I were dead I bet because so many people dont#like me anyway so they’d be happy to see me gone. everything would just be better if I was gone. i wouldn’t have to worry about anything evr#again and I’d finally be able to not feel all this negative shit that hold me back and hopefully I’d reincarnate into a cis guy and actually#be happy for once in my useless life. wouldn’t that be amazing?? I’m so fucking unloved because no one gives a fuck about me. no one cares#about anything I have to say. i have friends but are they really friends?? i doubt they actually like me because most of them don’t act like#they do. i mean why the fuck would anyone like me in any way shape or form? there’s nothing to like about me and I don’t even know how I hav#a platonic partner because I’m annoying anyway. and I’m no fun and boring and stupid and worthless and don’t deserve to be speaking to any1#i just want to die. is that too much to ask for?? i don’t want to be here anymore. i fucking hate it. nothing is ever going to get better.#I’m always going to be alone and feel lonely and feel like everyone hates me. this feeling is never going to go away and I’m always going to#hate myself because I deserve to be hated. I’m such a terrible person who doesn’t deserve to be happy. i wish I could be happy but I won’t b#I’m never going to find someone who I feel comfortable with in person. especially because I hardly know any trans people and definitely have#never actually spoken to trans people face to face who would ever actually want to speak to me outside of the obligation of school shit so I#would have to deal with disgusting ass fetishy cis people who would only ever want me because I’m trans and that’s it and being trans is the#one thing that I hate most about myself because I’m just so uncomfortable in my body every single fucking day and I hate it and wish I was#never born. I’m so fucking unhappy. i hate it. i fucking hate everything and I have no one to talk to. i don’t even want to bother the peopl#i do talk to with this annoying as shit because why should I make them have to deal with my terrible moods when I don’t even want to??#i wish I could pass. and I wish my name was changed. and that I was on T. and I already had top and bottom surgery and that I couldb stealth#how much of this am I actually going to be able to handle? when is it gonna be my breaking point? why do I seem to hold more shit each and e#every time?? i just want this all to end and go away. that is all since this is the limit again I’m pretty sure
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dragon-ascent · 5 months
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Hello, how are you ? Since you have open request I’d like to ask something : How do you think our favorite dragon Zhongli will react to his wife being accused of lying because they have corrected an historian on a false fact about Morax ?
Since English isn’t my first language I’m afraid this is not clear, I’m sorry.
Ooh, I like it, here's what I've come up with <3
-----
The tension is palpable and certainly not what you were hoping to land yourself in when you accepted Zhongli's request to be his plus-one aboard the Pearl Galley.
"Forgive me, Mr. Changying, but that's where I'll have to correct you," you tell the stocky man before you. The food and drinks on the table are long-untouched. "Rex Lapis didn't take on such a grand ten-headed and eight-armed form to exterminate those sea creatures. In fact, he personally went door to door to trap them in little Geo contraptions, even having a bit of trouble with the.... particularly wrigglier ones."
Changying's eyes practically roll into the back of his head. "Do you truly believe that rubbish just because that is what's commonly peddled? That the Geo archon, who could raise the mountains and calm the tides without breaking a sweat, found the task of getting rid of tiny sea creatures tedious and challenging?"
Sighing, you say, "Even the gods are subject to being less-than-perfect in their methods. And besides, the damn things were inside people's houses - brute strength would not have been handy at all. Rex Lapis needed to be careful and meticulous so that none of his people were harmed. Hence the Geo cages."
Despite how neatly you'd presented your counterpoint, Changying merely scoffs as he adjusts his glasses. He jabs a finger at you accusingly. "You're lying, just like everyone else," he growls, "and you clearly have no respect for our late archon! Do you even like him?"
Your breath nearly hitches in your throat as you gaze up at him in shock. "Ex...excuse me?"
The man pulls no punches as he continues his rant against you. "How can you so blindly believe what the masses think? Maybe if you were a real Rex Lapis follower like me, you would learn some critical thinking skills and draw more accurate conclusions!"
"I'm afraid I am on the side of my partner here, Mr. Changying," cuts in Zhongli, placing an arm on your shoulder. Relief floods your veins as you let out the breath you'd been holding. "They are correct in explaining that Rex Lapis had to go the simplistic route when dealing with Liyue's sea creature infestation."
Changying's eyes grow wide. "Forgive me, Mr. Zhongli," he murmurs, and you're not ignorant to the way his tone mellows out and becomes more respectful as he continues to speak. "I didn't know you were also in agreement of that story. But let me explain why he likely-"
"It is alright for you to have your own interpretations of events, especially for a being with an expansive history that is always being debated over," says Zhongli calmly, poised as always, "but when these interpretations are unrealistic and you still try to present them as fact...while belittling other people, no less...the line must be drawn somewhere, yes?"
Changying blanches, stammering, "Er, but don't you think Rex Lapis would appreciate deviating thought processes more, especially when..."
Zhongli's eyes narrow ever so slightly, his visage still calm as a pond. "Perhaps so, but what he would not appreciate is his people trying to one-up others in an attempt to prove they are his most loyal followers." Your husband glances at you. "I know my partner well, and they love Rex Lapis dearly. Not only do you accuse them of lying, you also undermine the love they hold for the deity."
His hand brushes against yours and he interlaces his fingers with you, giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You smile softly.
Changying scrambles for words, useless excuses and explanations that hardly justify him being on his high horse.
Zhongli, unamused, fires his parting shot. "Far be it for an ordinary man like myself to tell you what to do, but here is some advice: gather reliable citations for your claims, provide succinct evidence, and be respectful of those with opposing views, and perhaps then Rex Lapis would consider you a favorite of his."
With that, Zhongli escorts you away from the scene, knowing full well you will always be his favorite by far - the approving smile he gives you conveys that perfectly.
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sneaky-eel · 2 months
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Desmond, bartender in 2000s-2010s New York would absolutely binge shitty reality tv and adore eavesdropping on patrons when he can't get his drama fix. He's the RPG tavern owner who you ask if he has heard any rumors and his eyes light up because now he can info dump all the shit he hears. This follows him to the past, where now he has to actively seek out this entertainment.
He abuses his enhanced senses to sit on roofs and listen in with a hand to his mouth like, "oh my god. They were roommates." He is both the best informant and the worst because, while he is a master at getting information, the details he focuses on are useless to the Order.
"Yeah so this guy will be here at this time at this place, whatever. But! More importantly this guy has been having an affair with his wife's sister AND her brother and-"
"Please, Desmond, I am begging you just tell me the information for the mission."
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In Altair's time, Malik was originally Desmond's go to but after being chased out one to many times for "loitering and disturbing the peace of the bureau" (i.e. Malik's peace) Desmond switches to the Rafiq in Damascus since he "at least appreciates me." Eventually Malik would begrudgingly miss his presents and send a request for him to come back because Desmond is the only one he can rant at about Altair.
Altair does not know what the hell Desmond is talking about half the time, but now he does know the baker has three sons that his wife never knew of and one of the sons has shown up at the baker's home.
He normally will just let Desmond keep talking cause he likes his voice.
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In Ezio's time he is best friends with Claudia and her girls love him. He'll drop in and gossip with them about their patrons or even warn them about some of them. "Be careful I heard that he has some craziness going on between the legs." or the girls will ask questions about Ezio.
"I heard he is a beast in bed, is that true?"
"Well you didn't hear it from me, buuuut~"
He is 100% going off of hazy animus memories, but all the courtesans totally think he has either A.) slept with Ezio or B.) is actively sleeping with Ezio
With Claudia he talks about the goings on in Tiber Island and what Ezio is up to. Ezio doesn't know how the hell his sister knows everything he is doing or why he gets a message from her forbidding him from doing something he hasn't even gotten to do yet and Desmond just stands off to the side sweating.
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Connor is gonna go gray early with how often Desmond just disappears from the Homestead because he seems hellbent on not staying still as it gets "to boring there". Desmond will normally pop up in the strangest of places. Either Connor will find him, head tilted like a dog as he listens in on a group or Desmond will just hunt Connor down himself. "Heard you were in the area."
At time he loves it because Desmond always has a ready flow of information and he is very good at sowing discontent with it, making for good distractions. On the other hand he can do without the open commentary or rampant attention he gives any interaction Connor has with his father.
"It's so much more interesting when it's not me"
*Connor and Haytham both glare at him*
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