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#i hate this stop liking it omg
unit-ssn0va · 8 months
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inkskinned · 8 months
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they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?
they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.
you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.
you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.
mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.
you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.
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juniperhillpatient · 2 months
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hate it when there’s already enough characters & they bring in a new one to take up all the attention from the already interesting characters. like ok. no one asked
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flovoid · 2 months
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What a good thing we lose? What a bad thing we knew ♬
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oceanwithouthermoon · 3 months
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one of my favorite (/sarcastic but not really cuz its like funny idk) things in fandoms is when people make ocs or self inserts or 'x readers' being shipped with characters, but the oc/sona/reader is literally just another character from the source material.. its like youre shipping the characters but didnt want to admit it, so you made a kinsona and branded it as something else..
and its NEVER subtle, actually its super blatant every time and im always shocked when nobody points it out..
i have seen uncountable saiki k x readers where the description is like:
"saiki meets someone whose thoughts he cant read for the first time, and even though he doesnt trust her at first, she keeps proving that she is kind and has good intentions!" you mean nendo? reader is girl nendo?
"this time, he meets a girl whose thoughts honestly match up with her spoken words almost perfectly for the first time!" hairo. youre shipping saiki with girl hairo.
"saiki meets someone whose thoughts are too fast and jumbled to re-" ITS AKECHI, THATS AKECHI, ITS LITERALLY AKECHI.
"saiki meets someone whose just as immune to teruhashi as he is for the first and only tim-" this is hairo again, awe bae you secretly LOVE haisai ?!?
"saiki sees his old childhood friend for the first time in years after an incident caused them to be apart and then they fall in lov-" WHY DID YOU EVEN WRITE THIS AND NOT CALL IT SAIKECHI.
its even funnier when they say its like that characters little sister, but the way they write it is still literally just the character, like their personality, dialogue, even their relationship, is the same..
not all of them fit this exactly, but the ones that take a boy character and turn them into a girl oc to ship them with a boy, it reminds of how in equestria girls they couldnt make applejack and rarity endgame so they gave them boyfriends who looked IDENTICAL to each other.. thats what youre creating, guys, youre creating heterosexual rarijack.
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7roaches · 7 months
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not canon at all but i had a vision
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purple-st4rz-556 · 2 months
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I keep forgetting to be active here whoops....anyways it's Gorillaz Phase 1 OMG!!!!
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OMFG I JSUT RELIZED THAT I DREW THE THUMB FACIND THE WROGN DIRECTION 💀💀💀
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faytears · 3 months
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when I see ppl shit on poseidon and say paul is percy's "real dad"....when I see ppl say you shouldn't like poseidon bc he cheated on his wife he did bad things in the myths etc...do you guys know how goofy you look trying to hold a greek god to human standards of morality. he is ANCIENT. his true form is literally pure light. he's acting within his nature as a god. and despite not being able to always be there for percy at the end of the day he's STILL the best parent out of all the gods and he loves his son and that's that!
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sluckythewizard · 10 days
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BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary
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"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.
Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.
One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.
Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.
The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.
Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?
A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.
But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.
As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.
The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.
Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.
"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.
"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.
But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.
"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.
"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."
Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.
"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?
Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...
"Hey, are you okay?"
The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.
"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.
But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?
The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.
The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.
"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"
"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.
The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.
It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.
Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.
Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"
Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.
"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"
"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.
"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.
"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."
"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.
While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.
"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.
The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.
The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.
A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.
That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.
The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.
Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.
It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.
It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.
Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?
The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.
"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.
Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.
Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.
He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.
Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.
A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.
It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.
Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.
Like a mouse to a snake.
This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.
The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?
Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.
His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.
A STARTLING RINGING;
Splits the moment,
Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,
As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.
Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.
"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"
Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.
Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.
"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"
Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.
"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.
Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .
As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.
The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.
"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.
"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."
The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.
"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."
"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.
He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.
#NO TAGS ON THIS ONE BC WELL. IM SHY. IM TAKING A BIG LEAP JUST BY ALLOWING U TO REBLOG THIS. IF IT BREAKS CONTAINMENT THATS UR FAULT.#i unfortunately suffer from the disease of 'i hate everything i write the day after i write it' BUT IM GETTING TREATED#I WILL NOT BE HAUNTED BY THIS WEAKNESS FOREVER. AND HEY LOOK THIS IS THE FIRST ACTUAL FIC BIT IVE EVER FINISHED..#ITS SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF!! AND BY JOBE I WILL BE PROUD EVEN IF I HATE IT.#i dont always need to be the one who likes my art bc i know Someone out there will always enjoy it.#and to that someone i say: omg thankyou i LOOOOVEE YOUUUUUU!!!!!#JUST DELETED A WHOLE RAMBLE I JUST HAD ABT NERVOUS DISCLAIMERS FOR MY ART BUT I DONT NEED EM!!#GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT. ANYWAY. so emizel and soda huh#THEYRE SO CUTE TOGEEHTERRRR TEEHEHEHEHEEEE they are the homies that kiss eachother goodnight like CMON#but uhh so hey your bestest friend in da world just got turned into a freaky creature thing that eats ppl#ieah yknowthe guy that u care about alot that u had to watch get bled out by another freaky creature thing in an alleyway#yeaaah and you were super hurt and weak and stupid and u couldnt do jack nor shit to help him#what was i talking about again. RIGHT so hes even cooler now bc he cant die n hes super strong n his arms can be knives. sometimes.#but also he can eat people now. and sometimes he cant stop himself from eating people. and thats kinda scary. but in a cool way.#but also in a disturbing way. but also in an interesting way?but also in a freaky way.the feelings ARE MIXED!!!ATLEAST I THINK THEY WOULD B#okay again i havnt listened to the suckening ina bit. so its been a minute since i absorbed their personalities. i could be misreading or#misremembering or misconstruing or mischaracterizing or WHATEVER. i think the confusion carries its intended effect#LOSING MY TRAIN O THOUGHT. anyway i love soda n emizel i hope they get locked in a saw trap together or somethign. for enrichment.#TALOS GRANT ME THE STRENGHT TO POST MY CREATIONS ON LINE!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHHH!!!!!!!
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feluka · 1 year
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“I carried him for a long, long time.”
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merakiui · 1 year
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cannot stop thinking about enemies to lovers with rollo, but you’re each other’s secret santa.
Your plan is to get Rollo something he’ll never need or use (a really petty revenge on your part, but you don’t like him and in the midst of your hatred it sounds reasonable), while Rollo genuinely wants to get you something meaningful. Putting differences aside, he realizes he doesn’t know much about your preferences, so he tries to ask around without seeming too suspicious. As troublesome of a disruption as you are, everyone deserves a lovely gift for the holidays. You’ve given Rollo nothing but headaches and irritation, but since it’s the festive season he can be softer and forgive past disagreements. Anything after the holiday break is fair game, though, so it’s best to cause mischief while the holidays are in full swing because he’s prone to be only slightly less overbearing (depending on his mood as the festivities become more apparent).
Somehow, with all of his asking around, rumor spreads throughout Noble Bell that President Rollo is planning to ask you out on the eve of the holidays at exactly midnight under the bell tower. How such an absurd rumor started is beyond him, and Rollo is fully ready to refute every gossiping comment that’s boldly thrown his way, both in passing conversations and from his fellow Vice President and student aide. He cannot believe the school assumes he would even think of asking you—Noble Bell’s most notorious troublemaker—out! And during the holidays, too! He’d much rather burn to death than do something like that. He can’t stand you. How anyone thinks he’d like you enough to want to pursue romance with you is absolutely ridiculous. 
But then the idea suddenly becomes less ridiculous and more advantageous when his Vice President suggests he go on an actual date (or friendly outing; Rollo’s expression is sharp enough to kill when he hears the word ‘date’) in order to learn about what it is you like. Word of mouth isn’t as reliable as hearing it from the source. Rollo, after much consideration, supposes it isn’t terrible, but (once again) he’d rather do anything else than punish himself with a date with you, of all students. He’s so stubborn when he claims he’ll find another way, and his Vice President can only utter a soft sigh. 
As the deadline for Secret Santa approaches and Rollo overhears how the others around him have all found perfect presents, he begins to fear that he won’t ever find a gift that’s good enough for you. But why is he even trying so hard? It’s not as if he looks forward to seeing your bright smile when you unwrap it. It’s not as if he’s doing this to make you happy. This is just common courtesy. An act of goodwill from student to student, if you will. Or, in less sweet terms, an obligation he must fulfill due to the misfortune of a lottery draw. 
So he thinks nothing of it when his Vice President and student aide invite him to a café off campus as a final outing before everyone goes home for the holidays. When he walks through the door, the bell welcoming him with a cheery jingle, and he sees you sitting there he promptly turns and is ready to walk out. But you call out to him, wave with that pretty hand of yours, and he can’t stop himself from sighing. His peers lied to him; this is not an outing to celebrate the end of the semester. It’s the date he was dreading. He only stays because it’s the polite thing to do—because you’re whining about how he lacks manners and has the gall to leave a dear friend all alone after he had invited them out. 
Rollo really can’t stand you, but he must for the time being. So he slides into the chair across from you, where you’ve already ordered his favorites (he’s certain his troublesome Vice President arranged this, too). If he has to stomach an entire afternoon with you, he might as well get something out of it, so he uses the time he spends with you to learn about your preferences in hopes of getting inspiration for a gift.
Things are awkward in the beginning. Both of you are so accustomed to bickering over rules and Noble Bell’s student code of conduct that civil conversation is actually much harder to fall into. You broach the subject of that rumor that’s been going around and that’s what gets him talking. Rollo scoffs around a bite of croissant, muttering about how it’s nonsensical rubbish and that people will believe anything nowadays so long as it’s interesting. When you laugh out of relief and tell him you’re glad he doesn’t like you because that would’ve made things awkward, he feels an odd sting. Your feelings have never mattered to him, so why does he hate those words?
And why, while he talks of holiday plans with you, does he find himself smiling? Thankfully he’s brought his handkerchief along to hide his pleased expression. He’s not sure what he’d say if you were to make note of his obvious enjoyment, for even he wouldn’t be able to explain it. 
By the end of it, Rollo feels as though he’s gleaned a better understanding of you. When you aren’t actively causing a ruckus, you’re actually quite pleasant to be around. Who would have thought? Despite this, he’s still ready to head back to campus with you after a draining afternoon. But you point to a sweets shop on the way and ask if he’s ever had their winter-themed treats before. He narrows his eyes at you, as if to say, “What are you playing at?” You’re seizing his wrist and dragging him in the direction of the confectionery before he can say anything.
It feels like he’s in a cheesy holiday film, what with how you energetically peer into the jars of candies and sweets, all arranged neatly on the shelves, and the soundtrack in the shop plays festive tunes on repeat. Rollo tries to hurry you along; if anyone from school sees him with you, they’ll think the rumors are true and it’ll cause even more trouble. You yank on his scarf to keep him close, and he’s so tempted to yank you in return. But he finds that you don’t have a scarf for him to tug, and so he has to fester in his displeasure with a scowl. 
The two of you walk out with snowflake-shaped marshmallows, bell-shaped cookies, and candy canes of all flavors and colors. Rollo supposes he’s earned a sweet after dealing with your spontaneity, but then you insist on getting hot chocolate to go along with the marshmallows and now he’s being dragged to a little shop nearby. On the way there, the two of you pass a craft store and something catches his eye. He tells you to go ahead while he steps inside. You raise your brow at him but continue along, and when the two of you meet up he’s holding a bag. You question it, and he tells you to stop being so nosy. Your curiosity is quickly snuffed when you spy another storefront with windows decorated so adorably. 
At some point, in the midst of popping in and out of stores—where he continues to remind you that the both of you ought to be getting back—it begins to snow. Tiny flakes flutter to the ground, and you stick your tongue out to catch a few. They melt immediately upon contact. Rollo doesn’t realize he’s not hiding his expression until you’re gaping at him.
“What?” he asks slowly, dubiously, his eyes narrowing once more. 
“You’re smiling,” you say in awe. “I’ve never seen you smile before...”
“This smile is not for you,” he assures you with a scoff. “Stop ogling. It’s rude.”
“But you look so nice and approachable when you smile like that.”
He glares at you and the smile vanishes behind an irritated countenance and that trademark handkerchief of his. 
“I suppose,” he admits after a moment of awkward silence, “you aren’t so terrible to be around when you aren’t acting like a menace to the entirety of the student body.”
“Why, thank you, President Flamm! That’s high praise coming from you.” You lower into a dramatic bow. He rolls his eyes, but his heart skips a beat. “And you aren’t so bad either. To be honest, I thought I was done for when your VP told me you wanted to meet at the café. I thought you’d chew me out or hex me or...something.”
The mere notion that he’d do such things to you is irksome. He isn’t entirely bad or frightening. You just seem to bring those sides out when you run through the halls, pick fights, and cause disorder amongst the students. 
“Is that right?” He lowers the handkerchief, smirking. His fingers find your chin and he tilts your head to meet his stare. “Maybe you should try being less of a pain. I might show you some mercy the next time we cross paths.”
He pulls away, leaving you stunned, and turns on his heel. “Now then, we should return to campus. It’s getting late and cold, and I’d rather not get stuck in the snow.” 
Rollo doesn’t realize what he did until hours later, when he’s sitting at his desk knitting snowflake patterns into a scarf from the yarn he purchased at the craft shop. The memory has his face gradually heating up, so red and hot you could mistake it for a wavering flame. 
He can’t stand you, or so he once thought.
The gift bag sits innocently in front of your dorm door. There’s a card attached, but the sender’s true name isn’t written. Rather, a lovely message has been penned in curling script: Happy holidays. Do take care to bundle up. It gets rather cold around this time of year. I would hate to see you frostbitten and ill the next time we meet. Sincerely, your Secret Santa. Inside the bag are a scarf, a bag of assorted candies from a confectionery in the city, hot chocolate mix, and a mug with moon and star patterns. It’s a very comfortable gift, and you can’t help but admire the handmade scarf’s quality. 
You have your suspicions, but there’s no way such a kind gift could come from Rollo. He’s made it quite clear that he dislikes you, and you feel the same way. It’s probably from his VP, right? He did ask you a few questions about gift preferences, so it’s quite plausible that he’s your Secret Santa.
Rollo is in the middle of penning his thoughts in his diary when there’s a sharp knock at his door. And then frantic footsteps echo down the hall. He opens the door in hopes of catching the culprit, but he finds emptiness instead. His gaze travels down to the gift box that rests at his feet. It’s been wrapped in blue and white paper and has been taped rather sloppily. With raised brows, he gathers the gift in his arms and shuts the door, curiosity mounting. 
The card taped to it is the first thing he opens. It reads: I really don’t know you that well and I have no idea what you like or what you do in your free time, so if you ever learn my identity please don’t give me another detention for this gift. I tried my best! In any case, happy holidays, Rollo. You deserve a break. See you next year! From, your super cool and super secretive secret santa!!! When he unwraps the gift and peels the lid back, an amused smile pulls at his lips. Inside the box is a croissant plush with beady, little eyes and a cute smile. There’s also a sugar cookie-scented candle and an astronomy-themed stationery kit.  
Rollo sets the gifts on his desk, lowers into his chair, and flips to a new page in his diary. His heart feels oddly light as he scribbles a fresh entry.
I think I’m falling in love, are the first words that stain the page. And it isn’t a terrible feeling.
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yangjeongin · 1 year
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TOP 5 STRAY KIDS SONGS ✰ (tagged by @boba-skz)
in no particular order...if anyone else wants to do this, i’ll tag @seungs @foxinys @hanjesungs @seo-changbinnies @spearbin @connecteds @hyunchanz @huiracha @binsuns @hyunsung @seo-trashbins and anyone else that sees this and wants to do it! say i tagged you, but otherwise no pressure to do this as always <3 and if you already did this and i tagged you again sorry 🙏
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atalante241 · 3 months
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Do people genuinely forget that the Traveler had had zero intimate/purely positive interactions with Furina before the whole execution thing? Because I feel like they do. The Traveler became semi-friends / acquaintances with her during her story quest and that became more cemented during the 4.3 event
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apostate-in-an-alcove · 8 months
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There seems to be a trend on DogTok to demonize and regard rescue dogs as trash not worth saving or rehabilitating and just flat out demonizing no kill shelters and rescues with little nuance. I'm sorry that abused dogs who are traumatized and stressed aren't the 2k purebred puppy that you saw on Craigslist but the majority of shelter dogs deserve a chance at a good life even if you personally would never give them the time of day.
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i just came out to a real life person and i think im having a heart attack
#IT WAS SO UNPLANNED I HADN'T THOUGHT ABOUT IT AT ALL I DIDN'T EVWN THINK WE WERW FRIENDS??#she lives in the building next to mine and we go to tui together to divide the auto fare and we've been walking home 2-3 dino se#and she likes kpop and kdramas#but like there isn't that Spark yk like oh ny god i love u best friends forever its a little awkward and formal still#but we were talking about something and oh my god#when we reached home we were standing uski building ke neeche and she was like i want to introduce you to my childhood bestie i think you#two will like each other#and i was like kinda weirded out like um are we that close yet i thought we were just classmates 😭😭#so i asked ki oh why all of a sudden#and she's like 'i like you' and i look at her and laugh and she said STOP LAUGHING i don't meant it like that im straight ok#and idk something in me snapped i was like oh are u homophobic too?#but pls she didn't know what it meant 😭 so i explained ki do u hate gay people then#she said no no ofc not SO I JUST BLURTED OUT KI good cause im bisexual#THE SHOCK ON HER FACE OMG im saying this now in freaking out now but at that time i said it really coolly and proudly without fumbling#my voice didn't drop down to a low volume or waver or anything (which im so proud bc she's like the first irl person ive come out to face#to face??????? i mean obv childhood friends don't count they're all gay#but anyway she was like OH and then SHE FUMBLED she was like oh nice i respect u very much and it was so awkward i was like haan haan shut#up just don't tell anyone very few ppl know 😭and she wasn't done she was like so as i was saying#we're growing old and real good friendships are getting harder to find and i like you (stop laughing!!) and i hope we don't jinx it#and she literally touched a wooden table lying there and said touchwood???? 😭😭😭😭😭#now i am thinking why did i tell her she's so extroverted she talks to everyone we go to the same tui this town is tiny#she could tell everyone my parents could find out#but also a part of me is relieved cause im so sick of hiding something that is such a small yet imp part of me#and if she tells everyone then cool maybe there'll be more queer people i can't ve the only queer person in this town and we could be#friends and my parents eh they'd never believe something like that they'll ask me if it's true and ill say nah just rumors dumb kids#and they'll believe me because they'll want to believe me so bad#so no harm#i still don't feel very bestfriendy with her but maybe my standards are too high 😭 idk ig i can't see myself being friends with her#for a long time if we weren't forced by circumstances and i don't like her that much but im happy i got to say it#literally said it omg 'kyunki main hu. bisexual' FUCK THAT FELT GOOD
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perenlop · 18 hours
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its a little crazy seeing people say that the autism scene in girl meets world is wild and insane and unbelievable because the girls react to the boy having autism like hes got a terminal disease and "what kind of person reacts like that to AUTISM?" when that's actually kinda how my suggestion that i was autistic went with my family
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