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goddessofmischief · 6 months

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QUESTION...? - YOUNG SHANKS X READER

A/N: this is part of this series, which requests are open for! These fics are all one-shots, so they can be read separately.

If he was being honest, Shanks had thought about that kiss many times. The first kiss, his and yours.

It had never since been repeated. It had never since ever been mentioned, so repeating was certainly off the table. He had many kisses since, with many others, but none the same, and none quite as real.

Through it all, he had remained your closest friend. He, you, and Buggy had remained on Roger's crew, contented to stay on and learn for the time being. But tides had been changing as of late, Shanks knew. Roger had warned him of it himself.

He wondered where you might end up, if things fell apart, if their little family were to be separated. It was impossible to imagine you alone, but he was sure you were capable of it. You had never really needed him or Buggy.

...You certainly didn't need Buggy, at least.

Some nights, when he was being really honest, he imagined sailing away with you. Just you. Sure, he'd find a crew someday, but he wanted a couple years to see what life was like without one.

But that dream had died today, as today was the day he was introduced to your new boyfriend, Dracule Mihawk.

Shanks had a cursory knowledge of Mihawk that was far more extensive than he cared to admit. While the boys were only one year apart in age, Mihawk's extensive accomplishments far outranked Shanks'. Mihawk was already one of the world's greatest swordsmen.

How could he compete with that?

To be fair, Shanks was no slouch with a sword. It was hardly an insecurity of his. He was certainly one of the best, but he wasn't one of the greatest. And this shouldn't have mattered so much, anyway: It's not like you were in love with Dracule Mihawk entirely based on his sword skills.

No, you loved him for a thousand other reasons, all of which became dreadfully apparent to Shanks the moment Mihawk set foot on their ship.

He was polite, almost to a fault. He was cutting when it came off as clever. He had an utterly inescapable stare that made Shanks understand the meaning of the nickname 'Hawk-Eyes.' He was not a man, he was a force of nature, and Shanks felt terribly small beside him.

"So... what's your job?" Buggy asked. The three of them were seated in the dining room, waiting for dinner to begin.

"Gun for hire," Mihawk said calmly. "But only for the best."

"And... what's your intentions with Y/N?"

Mihawk stared him down. Shanks felt very grateful that Buggy had asked first.

"To marry her, of course."

Shanks almost choked on his drink.

Marriage? Really? That's what this was? It was too soon, it wasn't fair. He hadn't had time to do anything, he hadn't had time to even consider the full depth of his feelings for you. Mihawk was going to take you away, and he would never see you again.

"Marriage?" Shanks asked, trying to assume a jesting tone. "Isn't that a bit... sudden?"

"Well, yes," said Mihawk. "But I'm sure there's no one better for me, and I would hate to lose her."

"Ah... I understand what you mean." He understood it all too well.

You entered the dining room, and Mihawk rose to greet you. Shanks stood up, too, whacking Buggy on the shoulder to get him to stand.

You looked beautiful... of course... and completely in love. He didn't know someone else's joy could cause him so much suffering.

Mihawk handed you a drink - the rim was covered in dried flowers, he'd forgotten you liked them so much - and the liquid was a violet color.

"You remembered," you whispered to Mihawk with affection, and he merely smiled. Coward. If you'd spoken like that to him he would have had the ring out already.

The four of you turned to face the door again, as a sound like thunder echoed from the outside-

But Shanks knew it was only his adopted father's footsteps.

"Mihawk, is it?" said Gol. D. Roger appraisingly, looking the boy up and down.

"Yes, sir, it is."

"What do you do to survive, Mihawk?"

"Whatever I like."

Shanks wasn't quite sure how Roger felt about this answer - please hate it - until Roger began laughing uproariously.

Damn it.

Was this how mutiny felt? It seemed like it was one, sitting at that table, watching all those happy people conspire over futures he wouldn't be part of. He felt like a ghost, like he'd already died, like everything was too little, too late. He didn't blame you - how could he? you had done nothing wrong - but still, his heart broke a little every time he saw you reach for Mihawk's hand.

"It was a nice dinner," you later said to Shanks, standing at the edge of the ship, while Mihawk and Roger sat stoically in silence inside. "Thanks for being there."

You held a cigarette, and he watched as you exhaled smoke across the water.

"Give it," he said, half-jokingly, and he took a puff as well. You stared at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," you responded, holding your hand out and taking the cigarette back. But it wasn't nothing. The truth of it was that him standing there, tall as ever, with his dumb little necklace and dumb loose, white shirt... it made you remember how you'd felt for him during that kiss, years ago, all those feelings you'd tried to bury since.

Mihawk made sense. He was honorable, undeniably handsome, and clever. And it wasn't that Shanks wasn't these things - it was that Shanks had expectations set for him you couldn't possibly hope to live up to, and couldn't imagine following after.

He would be King of the Pirates. He would find the One Piece. You never doubted any of it. Everything Roger declared would someday become truth. This much was certain.

Could you handle that? It felt too much to bear, too big a weight to carry. Your love for Shanks - that's what it was, it was love - came second to Roger's aspirations for him and things the world needed him to do. He was a great man, he would do great things. And you had no place in any of it.

"You're lost in thought, it seems," Shanks prompted. You smile.

"Just thinking about Mihawk," you responded.

"You know, he... he told us he wants to marry you."

Your cheeks flushed red.

"I know," you spoke casually, even though you hadn't known. "He wants us to travel together, before he settles somewhere."

"But not now, right?"

"Maybe now."

"It can't be now!" Shanks said. "With everything going on? The World Government at our backs and Roger's health-"

"What do you know about that?"

"More than you know."

"I know quite a bit," you responded. "I'm the one who diagnosed him."

"Oh," said Shanks, trying not to let on how worried he was. "How long has he got?"

"A year. Maybe less." You puffed on the cigarette again. "He's said he wants to see us all happy, before he goes."

"That's not what this is about, is it? Please tell me that's not what this is about."

That was what this was about.

"You can't marry Mihawk just to make Roger happy! That's not what he wants!"

"How do you know what he wants?"

"He wants you to have adventures! He wants you to be one of the greatest pirates ever! He wants us..." Shanks became very quiet. "He wants us to stick together."

You held your breath. What you were about to say would disrupt all your lives: yours, Shanks, Buggy's.

"The Roger Pirates are disbanding next week, Shanks," you said. "I'm the only one who knows. Me and Rayleigh, and Roger. That's it."

Shanks stepped back, almost unable to comprehend what you'd just said.

"Oh," he said, unexpectedly somber. "And what happens then?"

"Then we go our separate ways," you said. "And Roger is going to turn himself in."

"To the World Government?"

"It's the only way. Or so he's said. I believe him."

Shanks sank down over the side of the railing, gripping the sides to keep himself from falling off. You watched him with concern.

"Can I ask you a question?" he spoke, softly.

You shrugged.

"Shoot."

He raised himself up far enough to make eye contact with you.

"Do you ever think about it?"

"What?"

"Us."

"...Oh," you said. "Us."

Behind you, Shanks paled, already waving off your answer.

"...It was just a question."

"I think of you all the time," you said, trying to avoid the full implications of such a question. "You're one of my best friends."

Shanks stared you down, leaning against the edge of the ship.

"That is not what I mean," said Shanks. "I think that you know."

You did know.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and placed your hands on his shoulders. He looked at you, unblinkingly.

"I can't," you enunciated, staring at his shoes before meeting his gaze. "I can't let there be an us."

"But there could be."

You needed to end this now.

Still clutching his shoulders, you bent your head past his face, lips brushing against his ear.

You knew you held his heart in your hands. You knew you were about to crush it.

"I need a man," you spoke carefully, "And you are still just a boy."

taglist: @sordidmusings@foggyturtleknightangel@twinklesnake@toertchen@96jnie@lunanight1021

#it was rare i was there #shanks x reader #shanks #shanks x you #mihawk x reader #iwriwt

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jpitha · 18 days

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Between the Black and Gray 31

First / Previous / Next

As they ran deeper and deeper into the Heap, Zhe was telling Fen that most of the pirates left were on Elmar's side and so it was fine to kill them. She swore that most of the pirates supported her father and must have fled to not have to pick sides in the coup, but Fen wasn't too sure.

"You've killed... a lot of people Zhe."

"What? No, not that many!" Zhe shook her head as they ran, her earrings jangling. They were in a low corridor, a repurposed umbilical. Northern was still a ship and keeping an eye out for things, while listening in on an open radio channel they shared.

"Zhe, you have killed a lot of people. Not the most I've ever seen, but still. a lot." Northern said, not without a hint of admiration in her voice.

Zhe said nothing, and kept walking but Fen noticed her body language change very slightly. She seemed like she was a little... embarrassed? They approached a very large, very sealed airlock. "This is where Elmar probably is." Zhe looked at the door. It was three meters tall and three meters wide and appeared to open in an iris fashion, Sefigan style. "Open up Elmar! Hemmi says I can't kill you, so I won't, but this coup has to stop."

"You always were daddy's little girl, Zhe, even before you learned what that was. He made sure of it." The bitterness in Elmar's voice carried even over the tinny speaker. "He spent all his time preparing you to take over and then you left to go straight! It was hilarious. You should have just stayed away Zhe."

Zhe crossed her arms and faced the door. "I'm here now, El and the coup failed. Daddy took care of the people on his runabout, and I took care of everyone here. It's you and whoever you have with you left. Daddy asked that I not kill you, so I won't. Open up and he can decide what to do with you when he gets here in a few hours."

Elmar's laugh was more of a snort. "Hah. You think I'm going to open up that door and 'suffer an accident'? I know how you operate. You won't kill me, but I'll die all the same. No." There was clanging thumps that sounded all around them, and then the squeal of an atmosphere alarm. "The whole point of the Heap is that the ships can disconnect and leave, Zhe. Did you forget? I'll just leave and come after you and Hemmi another time."

The ship started to move and shake, and the umbilical vibrated in time. Zhe and Fen struggled to keep their balance as the hallway writhed with the ship. "Elmar! You can't leave the middle of the Heap! There's an order!" The bravado gone, Zhe was shouting into the air. "The ships aren't ready, you'll pull the whole thing apart! Elmar! Don't you dare!" Zhe's fists were balled and she was screaming into the air.

Are you going to let her do that?

Fen jumped at the voice. Maybe someday she'd get used to the intrusion. "Let her do what?"

Let her leave like that. Let her disobey you.

"Oh yeah, sure. I'll just say, 'Hey Elmar, don't leave, my friend needs to try very hard not to kill you'." Fen snorted to herself. "I don't think Elmar will listen."

Elmar will listen if you make her listen.

"Oh? And how will I accomplish that?"

Try. with emphasis.

Fen rolled her eyes, but she didn't have anything better to try. "Fine. You'll help?"

You won't need help. You'll just do it.

Fen breathed in. She let her consciousness flow. As she flowed, her awareness expanded. She felt the umbilical they were standing in, the white hot rage of Zhe, hot and sharp. She also felt the electric yellow of the power of the ships all bolted together, with Elmar's ship outlined in her minds eye. How was she doing that? Peering further, she was able to 'see' someone, they looked worried, scared. There were others inside too, but they were more confused than anything.

Huh. Fen could see Elmar clearly. K'laxi, older, wearing a pressure suit with no helmet. It appears that she was getting ready to throttle up. If she does, the thrust will break her free, but she'll damage the Heap and possibly Zhe. Fen takes another breath and-

S̴͙͍̳͈͒̓͝t̵̯͎̑ͅo̷̜̎̈́p̵̫͎̓!̷̢̖̗̱̱͊̚͠

It was like Fen cut Elmar's strings. Her hand immediately went to the throttle and put the engines to idle. The worrying creaking and groaning of the ship ceased. Zhe turned slowly and looked at Fen, her ears back. Fen's eyes were squeezed shut and behind her, glowing red, made up of dust and debris from the umbilical was a set of wings, spread wide. As Fen concentrated harder, they'd pulse.

"Fen... what are you doing? What's going on?"

"I'm busy right now Zhe... give me a minute." -a minute

Zhe blinked. She could have sworn that Fen's voice sounded different just then. She could see sweat pouring from Fen's face. She held back a shudder. Zhe had always thought that the active cooling that humans had was disgusting. They would just pour water when they exerted themselves instead of panting like a more civilized species.

S̴͔̐u̸̫͆r̶̳̿r̷̯̐e̴̞͐ṉ̵͝d̴̪̆e̴̬͊r̵̺̂,̴͓͛ ̶̲͑E̵͙͌l̴̰͝m̷͓͗à̸͖r̶̖̍.̵̺̕ ̴̗̐O̴͍̾p̴̮̆e̴͕͐n̸͇͌ ̵̤̒ṯ̷̑h̷̟̎é̵͚ ̴̻̀d̸͓̏ő̷̦o̴͕̐r̸͕̕.̴̝̌

The ship powered down and settled back into its place on the Heap. After a moment, the airlock opened, and Elmar walked out.

Zhe spun and readied her soar-knives, but Elmar held her hands out in front of her, shaking. "I-I surrender, Zhe."

Zhe's ears flattened again and her tail flicked, agitated. "Why Elmar? Why did you surrender?"

Elmar swallowed, and her ears swiveled in separate directions, like they were trying to locate the source of a sound. "I-I...must surrender." A trickle of blood started to flow from her right ear.

Zhe didn't face away from Elmar, but turned her head slightly towards Fen. "Are you doing this?"

"Elmar thought she could escape, could disobey. We informed her otherwise." Elmar thought she could escape, could disobey. We informed her otherwise.

Fen's voice took on an odd harmonic when she spoke. It was almost like there were a few people speaking at the same time.

Elmar fell to her knees, clutching her head. Blood poured from her eyes, ears, and nose. "Stop it stop it STOP IT!" She screamed and collapsed onto the floor and was quiet.

"Fen! What's happening? Did you just kill her?"

It was like a switch was flipped. The glowing disappeared, the material making up the wings fell to the floor, and Fen opened her eyes. "Oh, fuck."

"I'll say! Daddy said he wanted Elmar alive. That's two of the three we killed. At least Rev hasn't died yet, unless you killed him too?" Zhe raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think so, no." Fen reached out again, this time weaker than before. She felt back the way they came and she came across Rev, sitting on the floor outside of their ship. "No, Rev is waiting by Northern."

"How do you know that?" Zhe's voice was rising in inflection, she was starting to panic.

"I... just know, okay? Something odd is going on, but let's just go with it."

"What about the other pirates?" Zhe walked over to the airlock, stepping over Elmar's body.

Fen reached out. "Don't bother, they're dead."

Zhe turned. "Did you do that too?"

"Yes! I, no, I mean, wait. I think..."

As Fen stuttered, Zhe strode back over with one of her soar-knives in her hand. "Fen. What is going on."

Fen's expression changed instantly, flashing from confusion to anger.

P̴̦̣̈́u̸̞͒͂t̶̳̓ ̸̮̏͠ẗ̴͉͕́͠h̴̥͆̔à̶̹̠̊t̴̕ͅ ̴̦̬̄k̴̘͓̚ǹ̷͇̅i̵̞͉̿͐f̴͚͍͗͝e̷̻̪̚ ̵͖̔̈d̵̤̿̌ͅo̸̘͒͂w̵̧̟̍́n̶̞̐!̵̛̳

Zhe dropped the knife as if it had burned her. It clattered to the floor, still attached by the monofilament to her wrists. Her eyes wide, she took a step back.

"No, Zhe! Sorry! I didn't mean."

"Fen? What's happening?"

Fen fell to her knees, crying. "I don't know Zhe! I think something happened to me when we went through the Gate. I've been hearing voices and I had weird dreams and this voice told me to stop Elmar and I just did and now I told you to drop the knife and I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Zhe?" It was Northern. "Why don't you and Fen come back here. Rev is waiting, and I think your dad just docked. We can work out what's going on."

"Y-yeah, okay Northern." Zhe looked down at Fen, but did not offer a hand. "Come on Fen, let's go talk to Dad."

Sniffling, Fen stood up.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space oddities #humans and aliens #jpitha #writing #humans and ai #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #Between the black and gray

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hero-israel · 6 months

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I know neither of us are exactly war experts, but I'm curious about your thoughts on how you think Israel should respond to 10/7 (or if you think they're handling this mess about as well as can be expected under the circumstances; this actual expert at least seems to believe they're following the law.)

I've seen a lot of good, compassionate people who either are Jewish, Israeli, both, or the rare bird goy who genuinely cares about their lives but is still a left-leaning peacenik, who are arguing for a ceasefire. Of course I would love nothing more than for no one else to die on either side, for no more rockets to fall, and for all the remaining hostages to come home. But I also know enough history to know that a ceasefire is unlikely to accomplish any of those things. David Schraub's argument is the only remotely sound one I've seen spelled out.

But on the other hand, even if he's right, that only delays the inevitable and sets Israel up to be in violation of the ceasefire agreement (any agreement made would almost certainly not allow it to function as a pause button) when inevitably Hamas is seen to be gearing up for another attack or if the return of all of the hostages somehow isn't part of the ceasefire, and Israel does come up with a solid plan for how to respond and does so.

While it makes me queasy, I think probably a ceasefire will cost more lives in the long run than trying to arrest or kill the Hamas perpetrators and recover the hostages swiftly now. But I'd love your thoughts on this since you've studied this much longer than I have.

The worst possible outcome would be a huge, destructive, deadly incursion into Gaza that DOESN'T leave Hamas skeletonized and get some sort of closure for the hostages. Hamas has already said they will re-stage their 10/7 attack until all the Jews are dead. There's no ceasefire after that. Hamas has to depart Gaza, all their tunnels imploded, their arsenal destroyed. This can either be done by their evacuation, as Israel allowed the PLO to evacuate to Tunisia, or by their death. Maybe another group will rise to take their place someday; if so, they will start from scratch.

The problem is that Israel's leadership are still the same talentless racist criminals who enabled 10/7; am I seriously expected to trust that they can handle the response better? I have a difficult time thinking about this because I just can't get past how obviously, simplistically preventable it was. The best response would have been to AVOID it. I am not beyond that yet.

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flamingskull28 · 3 months

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Ok so I may have made an Agent 32 villain AU. Here is a very rough draft of it.

4 and 8 are ruleing over basically everything after the events of side order showed them just what they could accomplish.

They live in a manor over looking Splatsville, thats fairly large. They even installed a throne that looks out a window looking at the city.

They have the "One sits in the throne and the other is strewn on their lap." kinda thing going on (4's mostly the one on the throne)

and they get back at everyone for leaving them to watch the canyon

like 3 is forced to be a servant for them as punishment for mocking 4 and 8 and acting likes she's better than them.

She hates having to watch them being stupidly gay while she just has to stand to the side and wait for orders. Like getting them wine or giving them massages.

Marie is forced to be like a sub cook so she knows what being bossed around is like. She is also in charge of their paperwork (its double checked afterwards to make sure she didn't sabotage it)

Callie I'm not sure but maybe something like having to spend 2 hours everyday fighting full x ranked teams by herself for making 4 have to fight her over and over.

though I think 4 would be a bit more lenient with Callie.

Even so 4 and 8 watch the matchs for fun all the time.

Neo 3 is forced to keep the others in check as some sort of guard (they secretly like getting to boss around 3 and the squid sisters but try not to abuse it)

Neo 3 was left alone at first but tried to free the others and got captured, 4 convinced them that it would be it much for fun for them if they complied and just guarded the others.

I think pearl and Marina would be allowed to be free, by order of 8 but they come by 4 and 8's Mannor every once and a while.

Pearl is kinda supportive and 4 and 8's rule

Marina is less so but doesn't full object (and knows better than to do so)

I think deep cut would be in full support of them and 4 and 8 would leave them be.

4 and 8 would also be in command of the octarien army

that's how they keep their mix of chaos and order

they treat them much better than Octavio did so they stay loyal (and they aren't forced to stay)

they used lines like "we were used as well but now we can be in charge!" to convince the soldiers.

Octavio is probably on public display for people to throw eggs at

a similar thing is probably the case for cuttlefish, or he was just thrown in a retirement home.

the other agents live in like shared prison room in 4 and 8's manor

at this point I think they all have come to terms with their fate and all accept the punishment for their actions

they did try and escape and rebel once before or maybe more times but 4 and 8 beat them easily and they just gave up.

Feel free to ask questions or add ideas. I may do a short fic about this someday. Might make it more angsty as well.

#splatoon #agent 4 #agent 8 #agent 32 #Agent 32 villain AU #new squidbeak splatoon #agent 3 #marie #callie #callie and marie #bad end au #kinda?#lesbianism #splatoon 3 #neo agent 3 #pearl and marina

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omegalomania · 2 years

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highlights from the virtual signing joe did back before his book tour, cause i havent seen anyone talk about it yet:

ppl who participated in the signing got to do a sweepstakes for a merch package and when the spokesperson was showing it off joe was like "and it's got a LOCKPICK and a GARROTE and a BALACLAVA so just DO WHATEVER DAMAGE YOU LIKE"

he introduced black flag, his favorite band, to his daughter and she thought it sounded terrible lkdfjldjfkd

when fob went to induct green day at the hall of fame joe mentions smoking weed with joan jett and miley cyrus. icon.

he regrets not having better tools to deal with his anxiety about touring and worrying about how every time he got in the van he'd be leaving home. "...and i wish i had, instead of looking out the back window, looked toward the front of the van and realized i was with four or five of my best friends and that i was in safe company."

re: the rest of the band, "they are like brothers, at the end of the day. it's a brotherly relationship."

his 8 year old begs him to watch horror movies and r-rated movies with him and he tells her she can watch them when she's 30

"let's talk about music. nothing better than talking about music. don't listen to it. just talk about it."

when asked about his proudest accomplishment: "i love all my children equally. but here's the reality. i am SO proud of fall out boy because it's a gigantic band that i started as a teenager. we just did stadium shows supporting GREEN DAY."

he's also super proud of the damned things and how honored he was that scott ian from anthrax, one of his personal heroes, trusted him to do so much writing

the interviewer goes, "all right here's a softball" and joe goes, "SOFT ME. uh, what?"

his favorite guitar is his 1965 reverse-body gibson firebird

his favorite transformer is grimlock

this question was supposed to be a lightning round but when asked "nintendo or sega" he says nintendo and then spends about 3 minutes talking abt punchout and then rattling off obscure sonic trivia. i love him.

his favorite video game is final fantasy 7. he says he "nearly flunked" out of middle school because of it.

he has a hard time picking a favorite horror movie since he loves horror but he picks "texas chainsaw massacre" as the one that affected him the most. he also recommends "anything for jackson" because it will "give you nightmares, if you are interested in having nightmares"

his favorite star wars character is yoda because his wisdom applies to real life very frequently

a fan-submitted question talked about with knives and how much the fan liked his vocals and both the interviewer and joe smiled REALLY big!!!!

sadly he doesn't like singing that much cause he doesn't like his voice. also he says fall out boy has a really good singer already. but he won't rule out doing some solo venture and recording super distorted vocals someday

re: what he wants to be remembered for the most - "having a sick bod, man."

"no, genuinely, i want my children to remember me as a good father. that's like the truth. and for having a sick bod."

he really doesn't hold any grudges about the hazing he got in the early days of touring because it was an initiation ritual and it weathered him quickly to touring life. he doesn't think people could get away with it now though.

"if you're gonna punch somebody though, do it when they're not looking"

re: favorite song to play live - "i don't care" because it "Just Rocks." and it's really fun!

his bluetooth in his car started playing "of all the gin joints in the world" and he texted patrick about how good of a song it was and how it'd be nice to play it live again

"as the kids maybe used to say, it SLAPS." brief discussion regarding the difference between a bop and a slap.

currently most of his musical ambitions lie in whatever fall out boy will do next

he tried scoring and composing for commercials and the like and he found that he really does not like it that much

he apologizes for not getting a haircut before the livestream. "this is just how i am, sloppy and unpresentable." (note: he was doing this livestream after a 13-hour flight from rock in rio in brazil)

#fall out boy #joe trohman #*making poasts #i felt like doing this tonight because certain Subsections of bandom are being very irritating and id like some good vibes #plus this was a really lovely little q&a #of all the gin joints!!! he would love to play it live again!!!!!

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hope-for-the-planet · 2 years

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Do you have any advice for people who want to be involved in activism, but cannot due to personal circumstances? In some ways I'm luckier than others in that I don't have a full-time job or children to care for, but in some ways I'm very unlucky in that I'm having to work through profoundly severe depression and trauma and grief (most of which is not related to climate change but eco-anxiety certainly rubs salt into the wound) so I don't have the energy or emotional strength to do any kind of activist work right now, beyond occasionally signing petitions / sending emails to representatives / voting. (And of course I try personal lifestyle choices like consuming less, but I wouldn't quite call that activism.) I hope that will change in the future but in the meantime I feel very guilty for my inaction, on top of the preexisting eco-anxiety, and I'm not sure how to handle it.

Hey Anon! I’m so sorry to hear about your mental health struggles—I hope you are getting the support and treatment you need.

Sometimes, the most important form of activism you can engage in is self preservation. Keeping yourself whole so you can continue to exist as a member of your community who cares about healing our planet is still important—for you and for the good of our world.

If parts of your brain are mean to you in the same way that parts of mine sometimes are, you may be suspicious of this. You may instinctively recoil from the idea that your efforts could be important enough that preserving yourself is a worthy cause in and of itself. It may sound like letting yourself off the hook. It is not. You cannot pour from an empty cup. You certainly cannot pour from a cup that is broken. Mending your cup and filling your cup so that you may one day pour from it is activism.

Even if all you ever accomplish is to continue existing as a person who is concerned about the wellbeing of our world and signs petitions and sends emails to representatives and votes—that is still better than if you were not able to continue doing those things.

I do just want to be clear, that mending your cup is a noble and worthwhile goal regardless of whether you ever someday pour from it—you are not obligated to heal yourself so that you can be beneficial to others or to the world. But working to preserve and provision yourself such that you can continue to do positive work (even small work!), and so that you can do more positive work in the future, can absolutely be a form of activism.

To borrow the words of Joanna Macy: “[An activist is] anyone who does something for more than personal advantage.”

From another traveler on the road to better mental health, I wish you all the luck in the world. <3

#ask #anonymous #mental health #trauma tw #depression tw #ecoanxiety #activism

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ratsoh-writes · 2 months

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I (E)already have the best (Pop)

--- match up time

*throws Briar back into the ring from the dating website*

Personality traits: very responsible, attentive, and actually went to therapy upon reaching the surface- that therapy helps with her crippling anxiety. She's always trying to accomplish goals instead of worrying about when the other shoe will drop. This is fueled by her hope for the future and her sister.... and surprisingly doesn't get too overwhelmed as they do consider their limits. She carries around a small notebook and will eat pages of it when they are alone and stressed. While Briar has worked very hard on their composure, stressful situations will slip the collected mask, and she'll be a bit of a stressed mess.

Deal breakers/pet peeves: Be aware her sister is a huge part of their life. After the results of their AU, they are the only family they have left and she almost even lost that. Any expression of inconvenience her sister brings (giant bulky van, constantly giving rides, being talked into even more activities) will be met with disapproval. Only Briar can complain about Aspen. Briar also greatly dislikes anyone who does not keep in contact with their family without good reason.

Attractive traits: despite being from the HF au, Briar didn't suffer much physical damage, and 'recovered' fairly quickly physically after working with a meal plan. They are still not at their top strength where they used to be before the famine, but can achieve it in the next decade. Because of this, most of her horns are made of her own magic (Bitrots hair/antler styles can weave in items or supplements to improve size or quality of magical antlers. As a reminder this is very important to their culture). Briar is, again, very responsible. She is also very honest (blunt?), and prides themselves on that fact both in and out of work.

Hobbies: EVERYTHING. No, but, like, everything. She needs goals and her sister keeps signing her up for things. What are the items that stick and they keep going back to? Baking and cooking of new and creative items! For physical activity right now it's Zumba, but she'd like to get her hips and ankles back to health for track and tennis. If it's a nice day, acrylic scenery painting is lovely. And volunteer work. Nothing silences foreboding anxiety like helping others when they ask for help.

Favorite items: Hot chocolate. Leafy greens and fresh veggies. Sticky note pads (they taste like walnut.... Not that she'll intend to eat them initially). Whip cream on any dessert. Haikus. Fabric with really nice thread count. Persimmons. Dandelions. Her van being clean. (Genuine compliments)

Physical description: bitrot monster from a fell universe so they have pauldrons. No large scars or any scars on their face. Just the usual wear and tear. Without accounting for horns, she can stand up to 6'7" tall. Like most bitrots, black colored magic on the hands and horns. Horn style changes usually every other week. Despite a calm facial expression, their ears often move around for better hearing of those around her.

Oh this is an easy one! I match briar with…. Honey!!! Underswap paps!

Honey is very attracted to the responsible put together types, so he’d definitely be the one to fall first in this relationship! It’ll be nice for briar to be chased for once I think. She’ll never have to question how committed he is.

Honey is good for a crafty SO as he’s down to try most hobbies with them. He’s a good baker, but clumsy in other activities. But that’s fine! He’s here for a good time, not a hard time!

There shouldn’t be any problems with her sister. I mean, it’s honey? If they end up having issues with each other, it’s clearly the universe against them as honey isn’t the type to pick fights. He’s used to a large family and can roll with the chaos of active siblings, cousins and in-laws easily.

Hopefully briar is open to kids someday though. That’s something honey can’t compromise on. He wants at least 2.

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humansbgone · 9 months

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There were lots of other things taking up my attention this week, and in the end, I wasn't able to get a whole lot done on the new episode. However, I did figure out a few alternative methods for a scene I didn't how to tackle, so whichever method I choose, the setup is there waiting for me.

Also realized I could simplify another thing I had slotted out for this week, so in the end, technically accomplished more of the to-do than I actually worked on. I also decided at this point, the rest of the props and backgrounds can and should be made as I go, for better integration with the animation and environment. (Luckily, all the most complicated props are already done!)

I also released an anthro design for Sophodra you may have seen. It was just for fun, but has gotten better reception than anything else I've released for this series. Maybe I'll do something with that, someday. Design here: https://humansbgone.tumblr.com/post/724575451809529856/thought-id-try-an-alternate-anthro-take-that

The butterfly's shadow should be recognizable at this stage. The flowers, probably not.

I'll be busy with some more stuff, so I don't hold out a lot of hope for getting much done the rest of this week, or the weekend. Next week, however, I'll be diving in straight ahead with the animation! A month straight of that, at the very least, and then background and remaining prop work. That together with Gregorsa will take another month. So, with any luck, two more months and we're done! Fingers crossed. Until next time!

#update #butterfly #insect #bug #insects #bugs #flowers #bugblr

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fairlyfriendlylurker · 3 months

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Why Pretty Privilege Sucks Ass

I've always understood the beckoning of plastic surgery. Being pretty is 100% a blessing, whether the person realizes it or not, but it's an arbitrary gift. And it's not fair that only a few get to enjoy it. Most people aren't outright treated with disdain or affection on the basis of their looks but there's always that subconscious factor. Not to mention plenty of us DO just straight-up shit on unattractive people simply for being unattractive. I've always hated it when people used the word ugly as an insult. You're basically condemning someone for existing. I can't believe society categorizes people as having varying value or worth just because they were born a certain way that they can't help. Sometimes I feel ashamed to just EXIST the way I do among prettier people. Being insecure and feeling plain and unattractive is definitely a big part of the reason I'm so trapped in this shell, although I don't think I realized it before. What makes me feel the most helpless about it all is that these labels of worthiness/unworthiness are given subconsciously. People don't even realize it's going on but it is. It's an inherent prejudice, engrained in us, and I don't think we're ever going to find a way to get rid of it. Maybe it's because of this that I sometimes deliberately go out of my way to be nicer to less attractive people and generally wary of the more attractive ones. Most of the time, though, I keep this to myself. Inwardly loathing the attractiveness of girls on the internet like a jealous bitter old hag (which I guess I kinda am) is one thing, but I would never outright treat them differently because that would essentially be doing the same thing I have been complaining about this whole time; treating people differently based on how they were born. But mark my words, if I had a villain origin story, my motive would be something along these lines. No amount of inspiring and encouraging body positivity influencers or wholesome-seeming messages is gonna make me believe I'm pretty, because I'm not. They all parrot the same thing, that "everyone is beautiful" but that's a load of bullshit because OBVIOUSLY not everyone is physically good-looking. I wish people would just be honest, because if they were, we wouldn't all have false hopes which lingered only to be dashed. Even understanding that being pretty isn't an accomplishment doesn't make me feel better. The only thing that WOULD make me feel better is realizing I'm pretty, which is not going to happen unless I have some sort of massive glow up in the future. And, yeah. That's pretty much the gist of it, sorry for making you endure this- I may have made it deeper and more dramatic than necessary- but I think this stuff will fare better out there than inside me. If you think you aren't pretty- regardless of whether you actually are or not- I'm with you. I hope someday we can figure something out and feel at peace about all this for once.

#looksDOmatter #prettyprivilege #unfair #thisisdrivingmecrazy #uglysolidarity

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fluentmoviequoter · 5 months

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Redeemed

Day 3 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Pairing: Clint Briggs (Spirited) x fem!reader

Summary: Four years after Clint broke your heart, he knocks on your door. You plan to close the door in his face but see a different man than the one you used to know.

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

Warnings: spoilers for Spirited (2022) and a specific reference to the song 'Bringing Back Christmas,' fluff, slight angst, flashbacks are italicized, more fluff.

A/N: Spirited is one of my favorite movies, and the Santa suit is one of Ryan Reynold's best looks! I wrote this last Christmas but I changed a few things and I like how it turned out. Clint is an underrated character and deserves more attention (I also changed his ending, which he also needed because... that ending? woof).

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Christmas Past – 4 Years Ago

“You already made me watch Nora leave, and the worst day of my life. What more do you think you can accomplish?” Clint asks.

“Maybe nothing,” the Ghost of Christmas Present says, gesturing to the new setting.

“Clint, can you please just listen to me?” a young woman asked, standing across the desk from Clint.

“I don’t know what you want from me! Do you want me to quit my job? Leave everything I’ve worked so hard for?”

“Please don’t do this, I’ve relived it enough,” Clint pleads, his eyes not leaving the woman.

“No, of course not. I just think you need to rethink what exactly it is you’re doing, what you’re sacrificing,” the woman continued.

“And what is it that I’m sacrificing? Time with you?” Clint asked sarcastically.

“This isn’t about me, Clint. This is about you turning your back on who you really are. You are an entirely different person than the guy I used to know. This company is stealing more of your soul every day!”

“If you hate who I’m becoming so much, you can go,” Clint said, bordering emotionless.

“I don’t hate you, Clint. I miss you,” she said, shoulders dropping.

“If you think I’m going to change, even for you, then you really don’t know me.”

She took a deep breath before looking into his eyes, “Do you want me to leave?”

Clint’s gaze leveled with hers. “I won’t stop you.”

“Clint,” she said, stepping backward toward the door, “you’re a good man. I hope you realize that someday.” She turned and walked out the door, not looking back.

“I remember all of this, what’s the point?” Clint asks.

“You didn’t see this part.”

“What happened?” Kimberly asked, standing when she saw the girl exit Clint’s office.

She had tears streaming down her face as she said, “I don’t even know him anymore.”

Kimberly hugged her, shaking her head as she looked at Clint’s office door.

“She’s spent every Christmas since then alone. Sad.”

Clint can’t speak, willing himself to wake up from this dream.

Present Day

Time freezes as Clint braces for the impact that doesn’t come. Music begins to play as “Roberto” cheers that this is it. Breaking into song, yet again, Clint finally understands the beauty of changing and doing good things. As the song ends and time remains frozen, he starts running, leaving the bus to squeal to a stop for no reason. He runs through town into a residential district, not stopping as people whistle and yell at “Santa Claus.” Turning down a once familiar road, he slows in front of a house. More Christmas lights are on this house than the rest of the street combined. A Christmas tree in the front window harshly contrasts the blinking LED party lights next door. He walks onto the porch, freezing as he raises his hand to knock.

The party next door is driving you crazy. You are trying to enjoy your favorite Christmas movie and hot chocolate in peace, distracting yourself from the now-familiar loneliness of the season. Four people in Christmas costumes have already come to your door by accident, causing you to pause your movie and direct them to your neighbor’s house. One of the partygoers hit on you, but it didn't help you feel any better. You finally get comfortable again just before the doorbell rings. Sighing, you remove yourself from the nest of blankets on your couch, and goosebumps spread down your arms at the new lack of warmth. Looking out the peephole, you see the top of someone’s head and a Santa suit.

You open the door a few inches to say, “Party’s next door.”

Someone says your name quickly, stopping you from closing the door. You pull the door open further, standing halfway in the opening.

“What are you doing here, Clint?”

Clint smiles, a small, sad smile, as he looks at you, but it falls when he begins speaking. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but I need to tell you that I’m sorry. If you want to slam the door in my face, I deserve it. But you have to know that letting you walk out that day was the worst mistake of my life.”

You shake your head and argue, “No it wasn’t.”

He furrows his brow in thought before nodding. “You’re right. I’m working on that one though; Owen and I are going to the lawyers after New Year’s so I can adopt her.”

“Seriously?”

“A lot has changed tonight. I think I’ve changed tonight." Clint smiles, chuckling as he thinks about everything that has happened. “I couldn’t let another Christmas go by without apologizing to you. I’m sorry if I overstepped by coming here but I had to let you know. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I miss you and I regret everything I said and did.”

You open your mouth to say something before closing it again and looking up into the sky. As you step onto the porch, hugging the door frame to keep your distance from Clint, he turns to see what you are looking at, smiling when he sees the snow falling.

“Still love the snow, I see.”

You nod, distracted by the flurries, as you begin walking into your yard, nothing but a thin Henley, leggings, and fluffy elf socks protecting you from the elements. Clint watches you before realizing how under-dressed you are, rushing toward you as he pulls his jacket off and places it on your shoulders.

“You’re going to get frostbite,” he chides gently, standing beside you and looking down at your face as you look up at the snow.

“Do you believe in Christmas miracles?” you ask quietly.

“I’m starting to,” he replies, still watching you with a smile.

You turn to face him, shocked to see his gaze already focused on you. “It hasn’t snowed on Christmas in four years.”

“I know. But you need to go inside, at least put some shoes on,” Clint says.

“What was your plan? After you apologized?” you ask, stepping closer to him.

“Honestly, I thought you’d tell me to get lost. Best case scenario, you’d tell me we could be friends again.”

You nod, rubbing your hands together to warm up. “Do you remember what I said to you that day?”

“You said I was a good man and you hoped I realized it someday.”

“You finally realized, Briggs.” You smile for the first time that night, and Clint feels his heart skip at the sight.

“You need to go warm up,” Clint whispers.

“I feel fine,” you reply, smiling. “But if you want hot chocolate, we can head inside.”

“I would love some hot chocolate.”

You boldly take his hand, leading him inside and closing the door behind him. As you walk into the kitchen, he stops by your fireplace, looking at the pictures on the mantle. He runs his finger along the top of one of you and him, smiling as he remembers the day it was taken.

“I have something for you,” you say as you return and set the hot chocolate on the coffee table.

You grab a gift from under the tree and pass it to him. He sits on the couch with it, watching you as you sit on the ottoman across from him. He tears his eyes from you, opening the gift and smiling.

“I meant to mail it every year, just… couldn’t,” you explain, shrugging.

He sets the box on the table. “Thank you,” he says quietly, eyes dropping to the floor before looking back at yours. “I like your elf socks,” he teases.

“I like your Santa suit, very GQ winter edition,” you reply.

“It’s not even complete right now!”

“Oh,” you say quietly, moving to take the jacket off.

“Hey,” he interjects, his hand covering yours. “I’m kidding, you’re fine. Looks better on you anyway.”

“That’s not correct.”

He glances at the TV. “Your favorite. How many times have you watched it this year?”

“Too many,” you answer, laughing. “Not like I had anything else to do.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you believe in me? You always told me I was good; did you really think that was true?”

“Of course, I thought it was true. I know you, and no matter how hard you tried to hide it, it was still obvious you were good.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you.”

“You didn’t have to, Clint. I always hoped you’d realize how good you were and find someone who actually deserved you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You were always going to be too good for me.”

His hands grab the corners of the ottoman, dragging it so it is right in front of him. Your knees touch his, and your breath catches at the proximity.

“No, I wasn't,” he says.

“Clint, you deserved better. Someone who wouldn’t have walked out that day.”

“You deserved someone who wouldn’t have let you leave like that.”

You silence as you look down at your hands, fiddling as you try to think of something to say.

“I’m sorry for, uh, interrupting your movie and your Christmas. If you want to come over for Christmas, please feel free,” Clint says as he stands and walks to the door, closing it behind him as he leaves.

You look at the empty seat in shock, jumping up and running behind him. “Clint!” you yell as you follow him onto the sidewalk.

He stops and turns back toward you.

“You can’t just tell me all that and then leave!”

“I thought you were mad I came over,” he explains, hands moving as he speaks. “I didn’t want to ruin another Christmas for you.”

“Clint, you didn’t ruin Christmas for me. Yes, I miss you like crazy every Christmas, but it wasn’t ruined. I’m the one who made the problem.”

“I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“Shouldn’t I get a say?”

He shrugs noncommittedly, eyes going over your shoulder to the party momentarily.

“You forgot something when you ran out,” you say.

“You can keep the jacket.”

“Not what I meant.”

“The gift?”

“No.”

“I don’t- “

You cut him off, stepping toward him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissing him. He freezes momentarily before wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you closer as his lips move against yours. You and Clint shiver in tandem, pulling apart but keeping your arms around one another. The snow falls heavier, beginning to coat the ground.

“You’re still not wearing shoes,” Clint points out.

“You ran out like the place was on fire, I didn’t really have a choice."

Clint leans down, nudging his nose against yours before his phone begins ringing.

“Hey, Kimberly,” he says, gesturing his head back towards your house and wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you begin walking. “Yes, thanks. We’ll be there… Yes, we… I know… Bye.”

As you enter your house, he ends the call and turns to look at you. You extend the Santa jacket to him and laugh as he puts it on.

“Was that my best friend Kimberly?” you ask.

“It was,” he answers, wrapping his arms around you as he walks to the couch.

He falls back on the couch, pulling you into his lap.

“Who is we?” you ask, leaning against his chest.

“Us. You and me.”

“And what exactly did I agree to?”

“Christmas at Kimberly’s. Owen and Wren are going too. They were all ice skating tonight and came up with it.”

“Why didn’t you go ice skating with them?”

“I was there for a few minutes. Then Roberto lost it and I had to come to see you. Oh, hey, you get to meet Roberto!”

“Who?”

“The guy that helped me change, he’s my bro.”

“Oh.” You nod as your eyes narrow. “I’m eternally indebted to him for that one.”

“You did, too,” he adds.

“Whatever,” you mumble, rolling your eyes and leaning into him further.

“I have a gift for you too. We can go get it on the way to Kimberly’s.”

You turn into his chest, leaning up to kiss him again. He returns it, arms wrapping around you and holding your shirt. He pulls back suddenly and looks at you.

“Is this my shirt?”

“It used to be. Mine now.”

“I stand by my previous statement that you look better in my clothes.”

“And I stand by my previous statement that you are wrong and absolutely no one could look better in that than you.”

“Are you saying I look good?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

“Yeah,” you say, as if it is obvious. “You should wear it tomorrow.”

“I wore it to a costume party today.”

“You could wear it every day and no one would complain, Clint.”

“I’m trying to ease up on the ego, so chill,” he requests, laughing at your comment.

You roll your eyes before kissing him again and standing.

“Where are you going?”

“I was thinking about running down the street again.”

“Rude.”

“I want hot chocolate,” you say, shrugging before picking up the mugs and walking into the kitchen.

Clint is right behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and dropping his chin to your shoulder as you reheat the drinks. You return to the living room and restart the movie, watching it as you drink the hot chocolate. As the movie ends, the party next door finally wraps up, and the lights and music turn off as cars drive away.

“Who has a party that loud on Christmas?” Clint asks. You glare at him silently, and he sighs before conceding, “Yeah, I heard it as I said it. That’s not the same neighbor you used to have, is it?”

“No, the new guy’s name is Doug.”

Clint leans back with the force of his sudden laughter. “I’m sorry, just- “

“I know. Kimberly has sent me videos of all of your performances.”

“Are you serious?” he asks, face falling as his laughter ceases.

“That’s why she’s my best friend.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” he says, frowning.

You kiss him again before whispering, “I think we’re more than friends.”

“Tonight went much better than expected,” he says against your lips.

Christmas Day

You walk to the large window in Clint’s penthouse while he gathers his gifts before going to Kimberly’s house. He walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. You lean against him and hold his arms.

Turning in his arms, you kiss him before whispering, “I love you, Clint.”

His eyes widen, and he raises one arm behind your head and hugs you tightly. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats before kissing the top of your head.

“That’s a lot of love,” you say, chuckling wetly.

“One for every Christmas I wish I had said it.”

You pull back, and he wipes your tears before kissing you again.

“We need to go,” you say quietly.

“Five more minutes,” he replies, squeezing you tighter.

Wren yells your name and rushes forward to hug you when you walk in, followed shortly by Kimberly.

“Why are you still wearing that?” Wren asks Clint, laughing.

“Someone liked it,” he answers, gesturing to you.

“I asked you to wear it and you said no!” Kimberly exclaims.

“Yeah, but I love her a little differently,” Clint counters.

Your eyes widen as Kimberly and Wren hug both of you again.

“’Bout time!” Owen yells.

The doorbell rings, and Kimberly opens it, announcing, “Roberto’s here!”

“You’re together!” Roberto cheers, looking at Clint’s arm around your waist.

“I feel like I missed a lot,” you whisper to Clint.

“I’ll explain later.”

“So, you lived your own Christmas Carol?” you ask, back at his penthouse with his arms around you.

“Pretty much,” Clint answers.

“And you saw me in Christmas Past?”

“Mmhmm. And then I ‘changed’ and immediately came to see you.”

“And Roberto is Christmas Present?”

“Retired, but yes.”

You nod, eyes going to the bookshelf behind Clint.

“Do you believe me?”

Your eyes widen as you nod. Clint turns to see Marley standing on his table.

“What do you want, Marley?”

“I wanted to ask if I could use part of your song for future unredeemables?” he asks.

“Sure,” Clint agrees.

Marley falls through the table, his chains following him.

Clint dodges one of the chains as he yells, “Still not funny!”

“Huh. Sounds like a movie,” you say, more to yourself than Clint.

“Kind of does. I’m glad I got the girl,” he says, smiling before kissing you.

“I love you, Clint. Merry Christmas.”

“I love you. Merry Christmas.”

#fluentmoviequoter12daysoffics #clint briggs #clint briggs x reader #clint briggs x fem!reader #spirited 2022 #fem!reader

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