#i tagged some ppl twice

[sailor-toni]

List 5 songs you actually listen to & then tag 10 people! I was tagged by @garden-of-mythology-and-fate-go

1) Brutus by the Buttress - I listen to this the most in 2023

2) I miss the rage by Mario Judah - 2023 was the year of rage

3) Final Warning by DSharp - this violin music makes me want to get into a fight

4) Long Ma by Nini Music - the way she uses traditional instruments to make rock music, gives me inspiration

5) Odo by the Queen Ado - Odo is slept on but its one of her best singles. That opening line "Hanpa nara K.O. fuwafuwa" translated to "Half-Ass deserves a KO" is a banger

@nickelodeonstudios @lexosaurus @ghost-strawberry @xiranjayzhao @bakughoes @ectoentity @ignotussomnium @underforeversgrace @currentlylurking @ecto-american

#music #tagging game #i tagged some ppl twice

[fixatedonfandom]

Mask Off

[I have a tf2 prompt I wanted to write but I don't have enough of them to make a prompt compilation so I figured I'd just write it here and hope everything goes well. I did the absolute most on the French so pls fix it if it's wrong]

BTW I HAVE SURGICALLY GRAFTED HUMAN EMOTIONS INTO EACH OF THE MERCS IN MY FICS SO THAT'S WHY THEY'RE 'like that' (normal). I have grafted double the amount of emotions into Spy as a treat.

Synop: Scout is sick. Really sick. 'If we can't get this fever under control it's the hospital or the morgue' sick, and Respawn can't help him this time. They'd already tried that. He's gotten so delirious he's fighting Medic every second he's awake, not really lucid enough to remember so much as his own name, much less that of any of the team. Medic is ready to put him under full sedation and try and work things out from there, but Spy has an idea.

~~~

"Hold his arms! Now!" Medic snapped, not knowing nor caring who listened. Demoman had been hovering near the bed, and latched onto Scout's wrists to pin him down before the thrashing began.

Scout was feverish, slurring out something incomprehensible, almost as angry as he was frightened, and was pushing up against Demoman’s hands with every ounce of fight he possessed. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing, and nothing the Medic said or did could bring them around to focus.

”What’s now, doc?” Demoman barked. As Scout bucked against him, Demo laid down right on top of him, using his chest to keep Scout on the mattress.

Medic did not speak; he grabbed one of Scout’s arms and held it fast against the bed, then slapped the strap of a soft restraint around his wrist and yanked it tight. Demo fumbled for the one on the other side and did the same, and moved to Scout’s legs to keep him still. All the while, Scout was yelling out nonsense, interspersed with things that sounded like pleas.

“Jus-no, ge-get off! Get off me! Leave, no, please-” 

”You’re a’right, lad! You’re a’right, it’s Demo!” said Demo, with heaving breaths. “Demo? Scout, lad-”

“Ge-get- fuck- let-let me go!” Scout gasped in turn. His thrashing rattled the bed, only then being kept in place by the wheel locks, and he was straining his arms against the restraints hard enough to leave a bruise.

Medic was frazzled, composed as he may have looked. He’d almost made the decision to lunge for a syringe of sedative when Scout began to calm, by nothing but him exhausting himself, until his head lolled to the side and all that remained of the fit was mumbling and an occasional spasm.

Demo backed away from the bed, swiping a large hand down his face and clearing the accumulation of sweat from the rim of his eyepatch. “Tha’s a worse one. Didn’t say nothin’ compr’ensible.”

“Least he kept his hands to himself,” the Engineer cut in. He’d been sitting by Scout’s bedside in a creaky metal chair, and had one hand thumbing through a book of known ailments, and the other nursing a cold-compress- one of the few Medic could spare, given the circumstances -to a blossoming bruise on his jawbone.

When push came to shove, as it often did, Scout had a mean left-hook. He was so scrawny-looking that it was easy to forget.

“Not tha’ we gave ‘im much choice,” Demoman sighed. “I feel for th’lad. Cannae imagine wha’ he’s seein’. Wee lad’s prolly thinkin’ he’s fightin’ off ghoulies ‘n ‘his own personal hell.”

“That will be all, Demoman,” Medic sighed over him and ran his fingers, ungloved, through his hair. His black hair was dull, limp, and greasy-looking, and as unkempt as the man who wore it. Both had gone at least two days without a proper wash.

“Aye,” acquiesced Demoman, and picked up another ailments book to flip through with Engineer. Medic would have been doing the same if not for Scout needing spontaneous care. The Engineer and Demoman had offered to help him, overwhelmed as he was with keeping Scout’s fever down through the past two days and trying to find the source of the illness, and stayed in the infirmary with Medic.

Each RED team mercenary displayed his concern for Scout’s wellbeing in his own way.

Heavy had been one of Medic's assistants for the first day, but stepped away when the look of Scout in the throes of fever became too much for him. Too many memories, and none of them good. He spent his time researching for the doctor, much like Engineer and Demo. He'd also made a sandvich for when Scout wakes with an appetite, just in case.

Engineer and Demo needed to be useful, and stepped up on the first day to help. Engineer had no head for medicine and a piss-poor bedside manner, but he could read and research better than most anyone. He turned up to the lab, grabbed an armful of medical textbooks, dropped himself down in the chair besides Scout's bed, and remained there for two days straight. Demoman could comfort- he was a touchy-feely guy, and he was strong. When Scout first awoke two days into the fever and started fighting, Demo appointed himself to Scout's bedside to catch him when he flailed.

Soldier wasn't much for medicine work, and he hated the infirmary, but he became the one that everyone relied on for routine since theirs was so disrupted. He enforced breakfast and dinner like a drill sergeant, bringing food when Medic couldn't leave. In the absence of anyone else to talk to, he'd managed to clean the base spotless too.

Pyro drew pictures, and sent them in like clockwork. Doodles of the team, filled with colors, smiling scenery, and a healthy, happy Scout in the middle of each one. He didn't come by to visit. Knowing what Scout was acting like, he knew he might be too scary for him.

Sniper did what he did best- he kept his distance. Once or twice he came around to visit, but saw how overwhelmed everyone one was stayed out of the way. Somehow, though, the coffee pot in the kitchen never emptied, no matter how many cups were taken out of it, and the dishes were cleaned despite no one sticking around the kitchen long enough to do them.

Spy was different. To the outside eye his concern, if any, hadn’t manifested at all. He still smoked his cigarettes as though he had only a day left to live, and still holed himself up in invisible corners around the compound, only appearing when least desired. If RED were not a team, one could think him heartless and detached. 

They were, however, a team, and even the least observant among them had seen the signs of stress he carried. Spy’s aura was tense, and he carried himself with more urgency, when he was ever seen. If he was not in his smoking room, he was in the infirmary, watching, an unlit cigarette bitten between his teeth to satisfy the fixation but not disturb Scout’s breathing with smog. In the times between Scout’s waking bouts, he would step aside with Medic and ask questions regarding Scout’s health in hushed tones, like hiding his fears from prying ears. 

It was then, when Scout had settled into fitful sleep again, that Spy melted out of the shadow of the infirmary wall to approach Medic from behind, with his usual inquiries.

“Finally utilizing those restraints, I see,” Spy remarked, equally delicate and ironic. “How is the boy today?”

“Worse. Only getting worse,” replied Medic in a rough tone. He’d turned to his shelves of medicines and concoctions, shifting through the bottles and making them clink together. “Verdammt, where is it?”

Spy came around him and looked over Medic’s shoulder. “What are you looking for, my friend?”

“Fever reducer. I tried to give him one earlier.” Medic picked a bottle, read the German label, and set it behind him on his desk. “He spat it out.”

“Not surprised.”

“It was too weak, anyway,” Medic said. He paused in his rummaging to glance back at Spy, perhaps to see if he was listening. “I was a trauma surgeon. I have not treated sickness in many, many years.”

Spy’s cigarette had turned into soggy, unpleasant paper mache in his mouth, and the tobacco leaves had fallen out onto his tongue in bitter mush. He put the old cigarette in the bin near Medic’s desk, then pulled himself another.

“I hope you have some idea of what this illness could be, yes?” Spy ventured as he put the cig between his teeth. Medic sighed and did not meet his eyes, just shaking his head and whispering something. “Then how do you possibly plan to treat him?”

"I...I don't know. Verdammt, I do not know!" Medic admitted like he was spitting out a tooth. He clutched the sides of the cabinet doors, and the wood creaked under his hands. "He will not take fluids, he will not eat. If I cannot get him to calm down I will have to sedate him until he's not at the immediate risk of death. That alone poses its risks, but I would rather those than...this."

Spy glanced over his shoulder to trail his eyes down Scout's body, quivering and sweat-soaked, as he fitted in his sleep. "What kind of risks?" he asked.

Medic collected his thoughts and sighed again, a forceful huff through his nose, then replied, "Delirium. Worse than this. If his breathing continues to get worse he will have to be ventilated, which doubles the risks of prolonged sedation. Depending on how he processes the sedatives it could take him several days, maybe weeks, to recover. This is all assuming that I can fix him while he's unconscious, without having to resort to more intrusive methods."

Spy shifted his stance, his hands itching for the lighter in his coat pocket. He resisted it, naturally, but the urge was biting at the tips of his fingers.

"How would you suppose we get him to calm down, hm?" Spy asked.

"He does not recognize anyone or anything. If I could bring his fever down enough for him to regain some lucidity, that would help," Medic said. "As it stands, unless we can present him with something familiar, he will refuse to cooperate. Something his mind will recognize intrinsically, as confused as he is. He believes we are the enemy."

Spy hummed as his response, pretending to be distracted, and hesitated to consider the idea that had begun to brew in his head. "His mother, perhaps?"

Medic shook his head. "Nein. Not realistic. Even if we could get her to the state in a timely manner, by the time she’s gotten through the company's bureaucratic hoops to set foot on base, he might not be lucid enough for it to make any sort of difference. If I allow him to get to that point I may not be able to restore him."

“And if he does get to that point?”

Medic hesitated. He was given no chance to respond.

"Doc! Lad's comin' round."

They both turned. Demo was leaning over Scout's bed, hands primed to grab Scout's arms should he start thrashing again, and Scout was rousing slowly, turning his head, furrowing his face as he came to a no-doubt painful consciousness. 

“We have tried Respawn, and he came out just as sick as before. Respawn cannot save him,” Medic whispered to him, then turned once more to his shelves with his back to his patient.

“No…no, l-let me…s-stop,” Scout moaned out, already pressing up against his restraints and Demoman’s grip.

“Lad- lad, c’mon, stop- stop it!” Demo hissed back, straining to keep Scout on the bed while taking care not to frighten him with shouting. Demo tensed, with gritted teeth, as Scout started to cry.

“Pleas…please, please…l-let m’go… get- let me go!”

“No no no- aye, lad, c’mon. C’mon it’s me. It’s me, it’s Demo, lad.” Demoman leaned in close to Scout’s face. Scout reeled away as far as his head could press into the mattress, chest and shoulders still wracked with suppressed sobs. Even unconscious, Scout couldn’t let anyone see him cry.

“P-P-Papa,” Scout hiccuped. It could’ve almost been any other word, as slurred and warbled as it sounded, but to Spy’s ears it came as clear as the ringing of a church bell.

Spy’s thoughts left through his lips before he stopped to consider them properly.

"Everyone barring the doctor, please step outside," Spy announced. He approached Scout's bed, shooing Demo aside. "Now, would be ideal."

Demo stayed put with stubbornness and clear hesitation, and Engineer looked up to him confused. Medic fixed Spy with a curious look, but said nothing against him.

"Er, doc-"

"You heard the man." Medic was fixing another cold compress, distracted. "It seems Herr Spy will be taking over, Herr Demoman. Everyone, out!"

Scout winced, whimpering on the bed. Demo stepped back slowly and released Scout, though keeping his hand extended, but Spy shooed him again and he made for the door with the Engineer. Neither looked convinced they should leave, but did regardless, and Spy and Medic were the only lucid ones left in the infirmary.

"I should hope you have reason for disposing of my assistants-" began Medic, then cut off by Spy.

"I would prefer this be observed by as few as possible, doctor," said Spy. He slid off his leather gloves and set them on the metal side-table. "Should this even work."

At that moment Scout's eyes opened, glassy and damp, to the ceiling. Spy put his bare hand on Scout's forehead, expecting the flinch that came.

"No, no! Get...g-get off'me! J-Just-!" 

In a single, fluid swipe, Spy tugged his mask off of his head, and brought his face into Scout's line of sight before the struggling could begin. His salt-and-pepper hair was tousled and untidy, though obviously well-groomed, and his olive-toned jaw had a deep shadow indicating days of neglect. He startled Medic badly enough that Medic fumbled with the medicine cup and sent it splattering across the tile, but neither paid it much notice.

"Sois calme, mon lapin," Spy whispered in the most delicate voice he could use. "Sois calme."

Scout froze taut, staring wide-eyed at nothing but the ceiling tiles. Medic watched him, wrapping his prepared compress in a thick towel, and waited.

"P..." Scout murmured, unfocused. His eyes scanned the lines of Spy's face, sluggish, and a dull recognition lit up behind them. "Papa?"

Relief sent Spy slumping over the bed, closer to Scout, and he ran his hand through Scout’s sweat-damp, greasy brown hair. "Oui. I am here, Jeremy. I am here."

Scout said nothing, but his left hand tugged up against his restraints. He seemed surprised when his hand wouldn't move.

"Wh-wh’s…” Spy saw the panic building, and rubbed Scout’s scalp again.

“You are very sick, mon trésor,” Spy explained in simple words. His unoccupied hand made quick work of the soft restraints, and they fell from Scout’s arms to dangle off the sides of the bed. “You are with the doctor. He will take care of you.”

“Oh…” Scout whispered. Scout’s eyes trailed around the room, slow and stuttery, until they found Medic, still standing frozen by his desk. Like melting ice, clarity emerged through Scout’s bleariness, and it manifested in a single word as Scout whispered, “M...Med…?”

It snapped Medic out of the trance he’d fallen into, and he scrambled to put together another cup of medicine and bring it over with his wrapped cold-compress. For a moment he and Spy locked eyes, and Spy recalled that Medic hadn’t seen his face in the years since his initial physical. Politely, Medic didn’t stare. 

“Herr Scout,” Medic uttered, allowing Scout to get his bearings before lifting Scout’s hand and having him hold the small cup. “Drink this.”

“Wh-”

“Fever reducer,” said Medic before Scout attempted to stumble through a question. Distractedly, he placed the compress alongside Spy's gloves on the table, appearing to forget about it. “I will bring you something to ease your sleep, if you will take it this time. And water. You may also need…” Medic trailed off and wandered to his shelves again, muttering under his breath all of the things he could have Scout take while he was conscious.

Spy moved his hand to support Scout’s and helped him guide it to his lips. “Drink this, lapin. You will feel better.”

He could see the hesitance screwing up on Scout’s face, and trusted Scout’s reflexes were too sluggish to resist when he poured it into Scout’s mouth.

“Swallow, Jeremy. Swallow, s’il te plaît.” Spy put his hand over Scout’s mouth when Scout tried to spit it out, foul though it may have been. He kept his hand until he felt Scout swallow. "Ah, Très bien, mon chou.”

“Has he spit it out again?” Medic returned with a glass of water in one hand.

“Non, he’s swallowed it.” Spy swept the sweat from Scout’s forehead. “Water, please?”

“He’s swallowed it?” Medic’s voice held a relief so palpable it was almost suspended in the air. He passed the glass into Spy’s hand. “Truly?”

“Yes.” Spy let silence fall between them and guided the water into Scout’s limp hand, then tilted his head back for him to drink. He took to the water much more readily than the medicine. Once it touched his lips he began to swallow like a man on the verge of death, and Spy had to pull the glass away twice so he wouldn’t choke. “Pace yourself, mon chou.”

“I have not been able to get him to drink anything in days. I would allow him some desperation,” Medic said. He’d removed his glasses, rubbing out the smudges on the edge of his vest. “I do not know how long you’ll wish to stay, but if I may-”

“I’ll stay until the boy can take a drink on his own,” Spy spoke over him, though only giving Medic half of his attention. “Perhaps after, if more problems arise.”

Scout blinked slowly, like a barn owl, and each blink after that was heavier than the last. It didn’t take long for Scout’s eyes to fall shut and for his breathing, though still labored, to come in even strokes. Spy let his hand rest upon the boy’s cheek, and a long-dead warmth that Spy had not experienced in decades washed over him like a baptism.

“This time, mon lapin,” whispered Spy, stroked Scout’s cheekbone, and pulled his hand away.

“Hm?” That was Medic, somewhere by his desk.

“This time,” Spy repeated. “I would like to stay for him.”

~~~

Also I did not edit this so...lol

tanks for reading :)

#tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 medic #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 fanfic #tf2 sickfic #sickfic #whump #whump writing #dad spy #so much dad #twice the normal amount of dad in fact #AU where medic might care about some of his patients a little bit #team fortress 2 #tf2 demo #tf2 demoman #would tag engie but he's barely there and I don't want to get ppl's hopes up #What sickness does scout have?? #uhhhh reader's choice #almost had him poisoned but came to the heartbreaking realization that there are almost no poisons that cause fever #and I really had my heart set on fever #scout whump #tf2 scout whump #I will carry this tag on my back #eventually... #fof writing

[mars-ipan]

i accidentally brainrotted our entire dnd group (including myself) with cal and soren (npc, the guy in the tire). so i'm drawing cal again. he's a faggot if you couldn't tell

#martzipan #cal #<- he gets an oc tag bc i've posted him twice now #huge part of cal's character is that he's gay and everyone knows it but him. he's really really stupid oblivious to it #also. as a warlock he can telepathically transmit messages to people #some party members came up with the idea that sometimes he does it on accident. i went 'yes absolutely' #cal's really really emotionally unintelligent i love him. little dumb idiot twink #every single one of my dnd characters is a self insert in some way. they all get a little bit of me right #cal got the smug asshole who lives in my brain snarking ppl. and also my complete obliviousness when it comes to romance #he's VERY fun to play. so so so stupid <3

[agp]

unfortunately im a chaser for cis dickgirls that arent so invested in transmisogyny. the harder they are to find, the more precious they become, and the more of a chaser i become

#i need a fat broad with autism and a critical approach to gender #god i hate how you cant say that without it being a dogwhistle for reactionary transmisogyny as opposed to critical thinking #this feels like before my time cause ppl were already using the term by the early 2010s #but whats going on with critical race theory atm has a similar possible end #not that it starts to represent some particular fringe group invested in some other form of structural violence #but that it becomes more and more meaningless and putting the terms race and critical together becomes more difficult #i dont know why this post turned into a tag commentary on robbing black people of language but here we are #trying to be abrasive with other trans lesbians is hard to do without getting distracted #and just being honest about observations #also the more i think about it i dont want to make that kind of commentary about racism just for the drama #that post about hypervisibility wasnt supposed to get a hundred notes lol #i dont think i should be playing chicken like this so much or at least give it a limit idk #at least not when i chose to engage the world that way #honesty or just existence as a trans woman is already a game of chicken #fml these tags are like twice as long now

[cruelsister-moved2]

totally unprompted hypothetical here but do you think if someone actually was a closeted trans person who hadnt come to terms with that yet, it would help to be constantly laughed at and joked about and have all of their actions and behaviour scrutinised for any suggestion of femininity/masculinity?

#I feel like ppl are just like it's fine bc they don't mean it in a mean spirited way #but omfg like for a lot of ppl let alone in a situation like that it just doesn't feel good to be talked abt like that #they might be super oversensitive about it so what is that a crime where is your heart #literally a post where someone sced a guys tags talking about how those invasive jokes made him feel more awkward abt coming out #and someones genuine response is just. well you're being childish and entitled #to ask them to think twice about the comments they make about you #like maybe you can just find another joke... #I don't think ppl have done anything deeply evil by making these jokes I just think ppl got super carried away and it might be time to reva #reevaluate a little. it's very weird when ppls response to being asked to think abt that is just to double down enormously #when ur literally just defending ur right to. make a joke. move ON #didn't we do this exact conversation w gay ppl in like 2014 and agree that yeah if someone seems obviously gay but won't admit to it #they're probably like going through some stuff and it's not ur job to like. joke about this or try and force them to admit it or whayever #some of u are not as funny and charming as u think u are. very few people actually enjoy having these comments made abt them #ur giving annoying 14 year old with no boundaries

[enevera]

WIP Challenge

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. (You can make your own post or reblog this one!)

okeee this was v time consuming bc my wips are v all over. limiting to stuff i actually have some prose for/at least a sketch bc im including art wips in here too ig lol

i was tagged by the amazing @pencilofawesomeness​ <333

Art

silly sketch lol

makiii

smth

sketch page

comicjghfgdf

shakeshakecubeboy

Writing (all jjk bc <3)

mutassu (all on ao3 rn tho)

ugh them

khjg,fhdgsf

lollipop bitch is stupid and jelly

gojou dome bitch - warning: stupid

a young man meets his dead father in a dark wood

----

theres more if we get into the collective wip docs and notes docs and like. ones i dont plan on finishing lol but if i put those on here we’d be here forever so :/ you get what you get. also you have no idea how lucky yall are that i actually named most of these, so many of my doc names are keyboard smash and letting autocorrect decide lol

okee now for the tagging >:) no pressure tho of course. except for the irls then v much pressure <3

@shrimp1y @ivythestoryteller @keniaku @kirpyee @wind-becomes-lightning @menemosa @yuki-mxivo @butter--peanut @viatorix @nyctibrae @bansenshukai @r-dtoblack @quenchiestcactusjuice99 @garrandia

and anyone else who wants to do this <333 i tagged mutuals i know write or do art that would have files but again no pressure to do both or either

#under the impression that some of yall will be tagged twice #but i figure thats fine? i hope so #tag game #that bleeds into an #ask game #idk how to tag this hm #realizing that i talk to a lot of ppl on here <33333333333 for yall #silly sketch is actually not silly btw lol

[seawherethesunsets]

.

#it's only 1 rb #but i read all the tags of my post #so i dont appreciate ppl trying to put some stan twt energy on my post #you can join the hate bandwagon on twt becasue you love that toxic place #but here on tumblr you filter things out or just dont interact #da hee pls blink twice if you need help? #stfu #who are you #my boys dont deserve the hate they always go through for edgy stans #not here #seriously and especially not on the posts that ppl upload for their enjoyment #get out

[honorhearted]

^ "Would you ever let a woman use a strap on in bed with you?"

Send me a △ and ask a really invasive question aimed at my character. They’ll have to: 1. Rate on a scale of 1-10 how much they don’t want to answer that question. 2. Answer that question.  8/10

Although Ben prided himself in being prepared for unanticipated attacks and distractions, he very much was not ready for the question presented to him that morning.

“W-would I ever...?”

“Uhh...”

Tightening his hold around his quill, and very near well snapping the damned thing, Ben shifted with discomfort, no longer able to meet with the other’s gaze. “Th-the thought of that has never been...w-well...presented to me before. In short, I don’t know. And least of all, I cannot imagine why a woman would prefer me in that way....”

#Anonymous #invasive question meme #lemon #//sioadjaoijda ben's first question: WHO is offering this?! lmao #honestly i think it'd very much depend on the woman #cuz ben trusts certain ppl unequivocally #but he's also Mr. Vanilla if canon has shown us anything #seeing how he rolled sarah over onto her back not once but twice #(since he unsuccessfully tried again the next morning RIP) #so i think at first he'd very much be into the traditional m.issionary #but with some coaxing could be open to other p.ositions #i've certainly written him in several different ones but that particular one hasn't come up #and yet i feel like 5 of the women i ship with would be up for that #so he must have a type sdjaosjda #he likes being in control #and yet is very attracted to women who can hold their own/take care of themselves #so that can clash and WOW these tags are getting so long i'm sorry #about ben #meta

[gleeandshame]

I do suggest people take fandom a little less seriously

#i go through the tag once or twice after a show nowadays and that’s all I need #some ppl get so made about everything #*mad #but anyway #*yawn* #dang I need to sleep

[seaweedstarshine]

Sometimes I think of Amy Pond, who grew up being called mad by those who wielded the word as a tool of exclusion and shame —

Amy Pond, who though forced into the hands of four psychiatrists, still clung to that which they called madness until those systems which elevate psychosocial conformity above humanity stripped it from her —

Amy Pond, whose imaginary friend reappeared for a single hour after twelve years and reignited that faith before disappearing for two more years —

Amy Pond, who spent those those two years under the same implicit threat ingrained in her through psychiatric violence, and thus began to believe the man who stopped the invasion was “just a madman with a box,” only for him to agree, and to also call her “mad, impossible Amy Pond,” reframing madness as non-negative for the first time in her life —

Amy Pond, who ignored the disembodied voice of her imaginary friend even as she ran away with him for real, who still lived each day with the traumatic internalization of deviancy dictated upon her by the psychiatric-industrial complex that shaped her from childhood —

Amy Pond, who wouldn't acknowledge the Doctor's voice, such that it took an Angel in her eye that was literally killing her to ensure she couldn't reality check herself —

Amy Pond, who stood before a room which muttered about “the psychiatrists we brought her to,” and though afraid, escaped their rigid parameters of acceptable existence.

#I like seeing it as indicating she began hearing his voice when he was gone for all those years! why else wouldn't she say anything? #actually psychotic Amy agenda #Amy Pond #eleventh doctor #reclaimed language #oh look its another antipsychiatry themed doctor who post #sumn abt in Fairies At The Bottom Of The Garden audio AND Imaginary Enemies comic we see Amelia bein called slurs against psychotic people #(shes called psycho in both) #like!!! and SO MUCH OF AMYS STORY is about her claiming her agency in ways that previous companions weren't allowed to- #companions whose status as a Wife was a signifier of an to end of their value individually- 'this is no place for a married woman' etc #in some cases Wife-ness forced upon them *as* a denial of agency 'I spent all that time trying to find you I'm not going back now!' etc #whereas Amys story deconstructs that; Amys “Choice” is an illusion- Amy being a Wife doesn't demote her agency as an companion #anyways I love that aspect of reclaimed agency for Amy but ALSO #“madness” as an expression of agency against systems of oppression is SO relevant. the mind defends itself and the alternative isnt better #the oppressive system in this case being ableist structures and the psychiatric system ITSELF which is a whole other layer #the moral being that even if the Doctor WAS a delusion? he'd still be a needed coping mechanism for a child who says “ppl always leave” #and instead of examining her feelings of abandonment they insist 'aLiENs DoNt ExIsT' as seen in the 'sTaRs DoNt ExIsT' psychiatrist in TBB #they don't care that she's in PAIN- why would they?- they just care that she's 'abnormal' and therefore not deserving of humanity #(eleventh) doctor is neurodivergent tag #I mean technically this is about Amy but I once (twice) used that tag on the post about the Master. its the spirit of it! #and Amy Pond + her Raggedy Doctor as “mad” people is very *chefs kiss* #((you know what im putting the tag on my last Amy post :D )) #Mels experienced this very differently and I'll make a post about her at some point- I just wanna make sure my points are got across better #sumn abt Amelia's “crazy” was Mels' “delinquency.” Amy treated as if she doesn't know her own life while Mels treated as threatening #sumn abt adultification of Black girls while Amy is infantilized #Amy Pond who could rewrite reality in a reborn universe because she grew up with a Crack in her wall that no one believed was special — #ableism #saneism #unreality #because I mean Amy's stand against psychiatric dehumanization was to REWRITE THE UNIVERSE with her Crack powers

[mari-reads]

idk hot take but if you’re an active fanfic reader on this site and don’t reblog/give positive feedback to the writers you enjoy for the sake of not “ruining your blog aesthetic”…thats kinda wack. Like just make a sideblog??? The option to give people their flowers is right there AND anonymous and you still let fear of cringe stop you?

#like twice authors have had such positive reactions to just my reblog tags that it was really endearing #I get with kpop some people don’t want to be in the crossfires of the fanfics of real ppl are inherently bad discourse but like #this site lets you be so anonymous #fanfic #fan fiction

[annwayne]

The amount of blogs I’ve blocked for not tagging spoilers is embarrassing

#no really it’s just bad behavior #I get forgetting once or twice #I’ve seen the difference #but every post not tagged? #god damn #I’ve blocked every tag I can think of and then some #and still #even unfollowed a bunch of ppl to minimize the risk of running into spoilers on my feed #like yeah you don’t HAVE to do it #but it’s polite #and makes everyone’s time better #this about the tbb fandom btw

[hovkinnie]

ngl i feel kinda bad ab this username and my first few posts being honkai now that im falling off so hard right when we're entering the final arc but god help me i cannot focus on that game for more than 5 minutes anymore

#the dopamine goes where it goes ig but it's sad #i've fallen off twice already but this time i lasted so much less than last time #i didn't even hate er like some folks i actually rlly like elysia and eden we stan a bpd queen and her depressed wife #but the transition into project ligma is like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #vent #idk if this is rlly a vent im just tagging it in case ppl have that filter cause they don't wanna see vaguely bummed out posts #cause i feel that #and i don't wanna tag honkai cause i don't want ppl to just stumble on bummer stuff searching for fanart and whatnot

[genshins1mpact]

🎆 Challenge completed: Survive Floor 12! 🎆

For the first time in Genshin history..... your girl just finally managed to clear Floor 12 of Spiral Abyss!!! 😭🙏🏻💙 Granted I just barely was able to do so with 4/9 stars BUT, I've never been able to clear 12-2 before so I'm insanely happy rn!!! I don't often bother with abyss at all, so for the lack of practice I have and my shoddy builds, I'm just happy for this accomplishment in and of itself 🥲 took a page out of last run's notes and basically ran morganayato* comp + my other usual powerhouse team and oooohhh baybee was I in for a struggle.. but we did it!! Miightt re-attempt down the line but that's definitely more than enough for tonight lol,,

* morgana comp but with ayato instead of mona lol

my main 3 teams at this point are: zhongli/raiden/eula/xiangling, diona/kazuha/hu tao/xingqiu, & diona/venti/ganyu/ayato. (and yes, the 4☆'s on my current comps are all c6. save for raiden and hu tao, everyone else is c0. + most of em use 4☆ weapons.)

#s1mpact.milestones #yes ik ppl have been 36☆ since forever but like im not inherently GOOD at games for as much as i love and play them #so this is a huge thing for me and I'm just vvvv happy i didnt rage quit like usual. in fact i think i only restarted maybe twice #put more thought into comps and ER and stuff this time so it went just a lil bit better #thankfully the current abyss isn't boss infested so ive been able to manage. but bro FUCK the abyss herald/lectors and their sheilds ugh #anyway i can't deny that i prob wouldnt have made it thru w/out some help from wallet impacto but sshh it still takes skill to clap it lol #SPEAKING OF im surprised i dodged/i framed as much as i did bc i normally just shield and tank shit but like.. wow a bitch is learning 🥲 #aerin.tagspeak #aerinposting #genshins1mpact #aerin.jpg #aerin.jpeg #spyro abitch🐉 #yes that's my dumbass spiral abyss tag fkfkfkf #lemme live ok #cue my dumbass lil dividers bc i think they're cute or w/e..

[sapphicsigh]

I don't want a 3rd szn without Izzy. I just don't. Call me dramatic or whatever, but I'm so genuinely heartbroken by his death. I feel so betrayed. Izzy was the heart of the show, and now he's gone.

The aftermath of his death felt rushed, he wasn't buried at sea (like what the fuck, a lifelong pirate like Izzy would've wanted to be buried at sea) and the crew was just happy to get back on the revenge and set sail without their unicorn? Everyone just gets a happily ever without Izzy? Izzy died a painful death shot by a pompous asshole and for what? Some metaphor about the end of the golden age of piracy? Piss off. Closure for Ed? That could've been achieved a number of other ways. Izzy couldn't get any assurances that HE was loved? Even on his fucking deathbed? The man who protected the crew with life and limb? It doesn't feel right, and it never will. Izzy deserved so much better, and so did Con.

And worst of all, perhaps, is that Djenkins was planning on killing him all along. The whole time, while we were falling in love with the little angry man, rooting for him and rejoicing when he wore makeup in front of the crew and was vulnerable with them...he was a dead man walking.*

*I've seen ppl make rlly good points about how death was treated throughout the show and I wanted to add that context here. If I can find whose post I'm thinking of, I'll tag them

**Edit: Izzy's death was an incredible shock. EVERYONE ELSE IN THE SHOW survived their near death experiences!!! Stede got choked near to death, stabbed (twice!), and survived all of that unscathed. Ed got his head smashed in by a FUCKING CANNONBALL, pumbled by the crew and made it out with barely a scrape. Even Calico Jack could've (apparently) escaped death after being shot with a goddamn cannonball. The Swede was poisoned but was already immune to it. Wow! We (at least I felt this way), as an audience, believed that there wouldn't be any character deaths due to the overwhelming evidence we'd been given thus far. So after alllll the in show evidence that the laws of medicine or physics don't apply to ANY of the pirates, why suddenly apply it when it comes to Izzy? Hmmm??? It makes no fucking sense. It's cruel and unusual punishment. They really killed off the queer disabled elder??? Jesus christ. Did not a single person in the writer's room have a qualm about it? The optics alone are bad. But more importantly, killing off the queer disabled elder is inherently political, whether djenkins thought of it that way or not (& i dont think he did). The mere existence of queer people is inherently political in a society (the US), which wishes for our eradication. So killing off a beloved queer disabled elder, on a show which seemed to promise us queer joy and a happy ending, IS POLITICAL. it's a slap in the face and a punch through the fucking gut.

It feels doubly awful because we, as an audience, were given something we've never had before, an unapologetically queer show. One that didn't soften or censor itself for straight viewers. It was created with such love, at least it felt like, for us. So to be given that gift, and to feel recognized and seen and appreciated, only to have it snatched away...

I can only speak for myself, of course, but it's genuinely heartbreaking. I'm so utterly disappointed. I wish so badly that Con got more time with Izzy. I think Izzy means a lot to him, and he means a lot to us, too.

❤️‍🩹🦄❤️‍🩹I love you, Izzy, and I always will. Rest in peace, my little meow meow, you were and are so loved.❤️‍🩹🦄❤️‍🩹

#ofmd #our flag means death #today on tumblr #ofmd s2 #queer #lgbtq #lesbian #omfd s2 spoilers #izzy #izzy hands #israel hands #con o'neill #ofmd s2 spoilers

[magniloquent-raven]

The first person to tell Billy Hargrove they loved him after his mom left was Julie Wright, a girl in his English class who'd tapped her pencil against her chin and batted her spidery eyelashes all through his presentation on The Great Gatsby.

Her lipgloss was a sticky smear clinging to his upper lip when he was pushed between her legs, locked in place by bony thighs, her ankle digging into his back. She sighed and gasped and murmured all kinds of sweet things and he glowed at the praise. The adoration. For thirty minutes he was loved, he was wanted.

She thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and never spoke to him again.

It was a relief and a disappointment all at once.

But that was just how these things worked. How it worked for years. Not every girl was nice about it, so generous with her words, but sometimes just their attention was enough. It had to be enough.

The third person to tell Billy Hargrove they loved him after his mom left was Davy Garcia, an older boy he'd met at a party in some warehouse by the pier.

They didn't talk much, but maybe Davy liked that. He liked to keep Billy's mouth stuffed full, liked him drooling and struggling to breathe. Loved it, in fact. Loved Billy. The way he looked on his knees. How spirited he got.

None of that stopped him from running when Neil caught them.

The first person to love Billy Hargrove was Steve Harrington.

Billy didn't know. He didn't know for a long time. They were friends. And Billy was used to settling when he actually wanted something.

Sometimes they got high and Billy would let Steve kiss him for hours. Sometimes they were sober and they'd fall into bed tangled together, with wandering hands and shallow breaths. Sometimes Steve would tell Billy sweet things while he touched him.

But they were friends. And people say things in the heat of the moment that they don't really mean.

Except one day Steve comes up behind Billy while he's making coffee, wraps his arms around Billy's waist, buries his face in tangled curls, and says,

"I love you."

And Billy drops his mug.

It was empty, thankfully, and he only chipped it, but the noise still startles him, and Steve startled him, and there's a weird ringing in his ears and his fingers are kind of numb, and—

He might be panicking a bit. A lot.

He's not...doing anything, is the thing. The coffee wasn't even for Steve. He's just standing in Steve's kitchen, using up his fancy dark roast shit, wearing one of his old gym shirts—a clean one even though Billy hasn't showered yet—and chipping his goddamn mugs, shit—

Steve might've said it before. Once or twice. But never...like this. Never out of the blue, for no goddamn reason.

"Billy?"

"Mmng."

"You okay?"

Billy tentatively touches the back of Steve's hand, biting back a slightly hysterical noise when Steve slips their fingers together and kisses his shoulder. "Did you..." he exhales slowly. "Did you mean that?"

"...What?"

"The thing you said."

"I—yeah, Billy, I meant it."

"...Huh."

~~tag list ppls @growup-thatbeautiful @spreckle @prettyboy-like-you

#stranger things #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #harringrove ficlet #a raven's writing desk #on today's episode of billy needing so much therapy—