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cyb3rtarot · 6 months

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Pick a Pile: What's an Insecurity You Need to Confront?

Disclaimer: tarot readings are not replacements for professional advice! Take what resonates; don't force a reading to fit. Readings are based on current energy; your future's in your hands. For this reading I used a recolored Smith-Waite, the Osho Zen tarot, and the Oracle of the Radiant Sun.

pile 1⋆pile 2 pile 3⋆pile 4

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Pile 1:

What’s the insecurity?: hi pile one! You seem to have interests that aren’t very socially accepted. You could like things considered “nerdy, childish, cringe, or weird.” Some of you feel like you’re a frivolous or immature person. You may also feel this way about your friend group or job. There’s some sense of awkwardness, embarrassment, or shame about the things that fulfill you. This may be a career that others don’t take seriously—like the arts—or something really niche like being a clown. However, I see most of you still try to pursue what feels right despite others’ pressure.

Why do you feel this way?: I feel you’re wrapped up in how others perceive you. You may fear being shunned, ostracized, and alone. Some of you have already experienced that level of loneliness before, so you don’t want to be pushed out again. You could be or have been the friend who feels least important, like the one who gets pushed off a sidewalk while everyone else walks side by side. Many of you have social anxiety; you could feel like everyone is staring at you or get easily embarrassed.

Current method of dealing with this: you like to take your mind off your insecurities and emotions as fast as possible. When you feel judged, you change the topic really fast, like by making a joke. You might blurt out something you didn’t really mean to redirect attention, like making a joke at someone else’s expense. Your constant flight or fight pushes you towards impulsiveness, and flip-flopping between embarrassment and defensiveness. This could take a physical toll, like feeling very tired after socializing. A few people in this group could’ve been bullies to deflect from their own issues (though others of you were on the receiving end).

Advice for healing: reflecting on how projections create shame is beneficial. When we judge ourselves, we feel everyone else is judging us too. When others judge us unfairly, they’re projecting something from inside themselves outwards. We can stay trapped in a cycle of shame where everyone is unhappy, or accept that we deserve happiness in our harmless interests. By taking a different perspective of your fears instead of accepting them as the full story, you can leave thought patterns you no longer align with. For those who often say things they regret, there’s emphasis on thinking before you speak, and working through thoughts before projecting them outwards. A few of you are entering a new community that will be a great opportunity to work on this. If you were drawn to pile 2 I encourage you to check it out!

Extra details: a bench (especially green), staring, golf carts, driving, dancing, physically active, excitable/hyperactive, bubbly, theater kid, geeky, black hair, cringe culture, shy, fandoms, the comedian/funny friend, always smiling, secret/hidden life, bullying, travel/moving, leaving friends, feeling dumb, fake persona, panic, school friends, college, dorms, fairies (fairly odd parents?), Are We Friends or Not by Zeph

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Pile 2 [TW abuse/childhood abuse]:

What’s the insecurity?: hi pile two! You guys may feel insecure or struggle in what you want to do with your life. You may feel stuck in “analysis paralysis;” constantly ruminating over all the possibilities but never reaching a conclusion. If you compare yourselves to others, it might seem like you’re going very slow in life, a late bloomer, have no solid plan, or like you’re regressing. Some of you struggle with a heavy past, like major childhood trauma that contributes to your present feelings.

Why do you feel this way?: you have a lot of thoughts in your head that pull you every which way. You might have an inkling of what you want to do, but you get caught in the planning versus the doing. Some of you are stuck between choosing something lucrative or something more purposeful. There are also opinions from others that are confusing you. A few of you have imposter syndrome about a new opportunity, and another few are having problems at a job which is pushing them away.

Current method of dealing with this: this pile seems to deal with it by not dealing with it lol. You want to make the perfect choice so much that you either don’t make any decision or you turn away from what you like. The latter is specific to some of you that have already chosen a more material-focused path but still feel indecisive. However, I don’t feel like you guys are living in an illusion; you’re aware of your situation and the different aspects. You may enjoy the position you’re in despite the insecurity. For example, if you don’t have a job right now, you could enjoy the free schedule. You may like still being taken care of by your family and not having to work. Or, you could enjoy the potential of having many possibilities and not fully committing.

Advice for healing: you need to take a serious look at what you want out of life, what’s important to YOU and not society or others. This includes being more selective with the perceptions and advice you consider; you might also need to be more selective with who’s in your circle. Are there people in your energy who are only there for themselves? Are you maybe a bit too free with sharing your plans and ideas with just everyone? Find out who and what makes you feel fulfilled and empowered. If you also felt drawn to pile 1 I encourage you to look it over!

Extra details: looking for a job or between jobs, optimism, eagerness, vests, libraries, plants, round glasses/brown glasses, light brown hair (especially a bob), quiet or shy kid (some of you outgrew it), teacher’s assistant, childhood trauma or abuse, masculine or androgynous look, horror (the genre), drawing, pop music (some of you love ariana grande 🤨), drag, job opportunities, meditation, overthinking, inner demons, nickelodeon, moving, being busy, lack mindset

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Pile 3 [TW mental illness, substance abuse]:

What’s the insecurity?: hi pile threes! Is everything all right?? You guys have an indecisive energy like pile 2, but it feels philosophical instead of material. The insecurity is life itself. You could be having an existential crisis or existential anxiety. You don’t know your purpose or why you’re here, and this creates a stagnant but chaotic feeling inside. Some of you don’t want to be here. Another part of this “insecurity” is that you don’t share this struggle with most. Because others can’t comprehend what you’re going through, it’s isolating. This pile could be very disappointed with how society and survival works, and don’t want to put their energy into the broken system.

Why do you feel this way?: This group has pressure from themselves and others to be successful and “well-adjusted.” To achieve, move forward, and at least appear “normal.” There’s a great internal struggle happening and the pressure to keep up appearances adds to the stress. Mental health issues feel very significant for this pile. You may still conform to so-called normal life while feeling ready to snap.

Current method of dealing with this: most of this pile puts a lot of energy into keeping up the image. There’s a split self where the external you and internal you are living two different lives. You may like to hang out with friends a lot and focus on their lives instead of your own. Your friend group or the activities you do together seem to be filled with gossip, drama, or other excitement that distracts you from what’s going on. I also see a big struggle with overindulgence or addiction. There’s a sense of feeling out of it during the day and then coming alive at night; you might like to stay up or go out really late. Some of you also use partners to fill the void.

Advice for healing: there’s an extremely strong emphasis on removing yourself from people who no longer align with you. There could be a few people or places that always “enable” you to make choices you regret, or always bring drama and toxicity into your life. Specific people in this pile are in a romantic relationship that makes them feel very unhappy. The advice is to reflect on what takes peace from your life and what you can do to protect yourself from toxicity. If you use relationships to never face yourself, you can re-evaluate the energy you put into them. Some time has to be spent with the self to see what the self wants and needs (if you’re drawn to meditation it can be helpful). I highly encourage everyone who wants or needs them to see what mental health services are accessible to you, and to explore potential healthy coping mechanisms.

Extra details: impatient, may like to sing, vocal stim, or rap, goofy, “IT’S FAKE!”(?), a facade/mask, hiding feelings, uses humor to cope or avoid a topic, trap house, memes, spiritual, viewing life as sacred, anti-capitalism, immigrant family, questioning orientation, substance abuse, painting, bathrooms, the middle of nowhere, courage the cowardly dog, pop music, karaoke, bars and clubs, I think we ALL sing, housing insecurity, the characters Mabel or Sarah Lynn could be significant

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Pile 4:

What’s the insecurity?: hi pile four! This is an insecurity about being vulnerable as your true self due to the oppressive environment around you. It feels like you carry many responsibilities. You’re expected to act strong, carry out duties, maintain tradition, and in most ways you’ve done this. On the inside you reject this way of life, but also feel fear in fully living out that rejection. This pile may deem themselves as weak, immature, or sinful. I also feel many of you want to be taken care of or protected instead of always having to be the carer and protector, and this could contribute to feeling weak.

Why do you feel this way?: living as your true self may mean becoming the black sheep wherever you are. You may be afraid that the fallout will push you into an unfavorable situation, such as having to leave where you currently are. You might’ve already seen it happen to others. I feel many of you have had to live in a mature role or take care of responsibilities since childhood, and this adds an extra layer as to why it’s so hard to break free.

Current method of dealing with this: I feel like you guys are doing the best with what you have! A good amount of this pile has left or is leaving their hurtful environment, and you’re moving into new communities that align with you. For others, this may just be an internal change. Either way, I feel you’re refusing to be bullied into agreeing with things you don’t believe in. One way or another, you’re going to find a way to rebel how you can and live the way you want. It’s just been hard to reflect on ingrained beliefs and sometimes you catch yourself falling back on ideas you don’t mesh with anymore. But great efforts have been made towards the path you want to be on.

Advice for healing: be open to a completely new journey you would’ve never imagined before! There’s already a lot of energy directed towards the life you envision for yourself. You’re encouraged to be open-minded and allow yourself continuous evolution. There’s an emphasis on giving your inner child a lot of grace and space to heal, even if your first impulse is to judge them. Just as others shouldn’t keep you in their box, don’t keep yourself in your own box either! You may have had to develop certain traits to help you leave old, toxic situations, such as having a hard exterior or going ham during your rebellious phase. Keep what still feels good and let go of the rest; embody what you need and want to be in the present and not the past. But, there’s no need to shame other versions of yourself that had different personalities and beliefs; compassion for past selves leads to compassion for the present and future selves :]!

Extra details [TW abuse mention]: teeter-tottering/off-balance, scooby & shaggy, religious trauma, conservative community, church, childhood trauma, abusive relationships, regretting parenthood, religious deconstruction/leaving, becoming more spiritual, new religious beliefs, Buddhism, moving, financial struggle, single parent, hesitating, sea/sea animals, parties or gatherings, moving/travel across the ocean, writing/journaling, nature, herbalism, plant-induced spiritual experiences, acupuncture, purple

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

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thirdity · 5 months

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In the course of general acceleration and hyperactivity we are also losing the capacity for rage. Rage has a characteristic temporality incompatible with generalized acceleration and hyperactivity, which admit no breadth of time. The future shortens into a protracted present. It lacks all negativity, which would permit one to look at the Other. In contrast, rage puts the present as a whole into question. It presupposes an interrupting pause in the present... The general distraction afflicting contemporary society does not allow the emphasis and energy of rage to arise. Rage is the capacity to interrupt a given state and make a new state begin. Today it is yielding more and more to offense or annoyance, "having a beef", which proves incapable of effecting decisive change.

Byung-chul Han, The Burnout Society

#emotions #feelings #rage #time #future #present #distraction #energy #interruption #change #quotes #Han #Byung-chul Han #The Burnout Society

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canonmisogynyvictimstournament · 8 months

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PROPAGANDA

NATASHA ROSTOVA (WAR AND PEACE) (CW: Pregnancy)

1.) Natasha is one of the MCs of the novel and for the majority of it she stays an incredibly complex, flawed and fleshed out character but then THE EPILOGUE COMES. In the epilogue she marries Pierre Bezukhov (who I talked about in my previous propaganda) and essentially loses her personality. The point of her existence now is to serve Pierre and be his 24/7 baby machine. The narrative puts emphasis on how important singing is for her (Natasha expresses herself through it) but after she gets married she stops singing (the other moment she stops singing is after her failed elopement with Anatole Kuragin, when she's depressed and basically at her lowest point) because she doesn't need it anymore since she has a husband UwU.

Natasha is described as a perfect and understanding wife for Pierre and yet she's allowed only to soak in his views and thoughts without adding anything from herself. ("Now that he was telling it all to Natásha he experienced that pleasure which a man has when women listen to him—not clever women who when listening either try to remember what they hear to enrich their minds and when opportunity offers to retell it, or who wish to adopt it to some thought of their own and promptly contribute their own clever comments prepared in their little mental workshop—but the pleasure given by real women gifted with a capacity to select and absorb the very best a man shows of himself." (c) Book 15, Ch. 17).

When Natasha's cousin Sonya tries to stop her from eloping with Anatole, Natasha screams that she's now his slave and will do anything he wants and although she and Anatole never meet again after the elopement fails, she never escapes the fate of becoming a slave to her man.

To be honest I dislike Natasha (there's no excuse for how she and her family treated her cousin Sonya) but the way she portrayed in the epilogue infuriates me. Her marriage to Pierre cancels out her character arc and personal growth she had before it completely.

2.) After 2k pages detailing her unique way of thinking, lust for life, hyperactivity and love of freedom Natasha is married and therefore summarily shunted off to being jealous and incapable of understanding her husband's higher purpose, no longer singing and having no other preoccupation in life but the color of her children's pov

3.) oh my god. so shes this young girl (literally shes like. 13 to 17 throughout the main story). as natasha makes her way into society, she gets more and more hated by tolstoy. (because tolstoy hates society & women). if im remembering correctly the first time she flirts with a man & uses a fan she gets scolded. all of her love interests are considerably older than her. when natasha is 17, she gets engaged to andrei (who at this point would be around 27). he goes off to war! because he loves war. while hes away, anatole (who is vaguely around andreis age) seduces natasha. he knows she's engaged & impressionable and does it anyways. anatole plans to kidnap & elope with natasha, but the plan gets found out. natasha learns anatole is already married and tries to kill herself via arsenic. she gets better. pierre (27) who has known natasha since she was 13 & is close with her family and is also andreis friend, visits natasha. he comforts her and she's like "no what i've done is unforgivable and deplorable". pierre then kind of proposes to her ("if i were free"). natasha stops singing for a while. this is significant because singing is very important to her. well fast forward his wife dies. then theres the epilogue where pierre and natasha get married. natasha is miserable and is basically a baby pumping machine and she also stops singing again.

GWEN (BBC MERLIN) (CW: Mind Control, Adultery)

1.) She was one the main 4 characters in the show and basically the leading lady as the show went on and YET. She was literally treated like an object to make her pain a point of conflict and angst for the male characters and then SHE WAS BARELY EVEN THERE. FOR THE SEASON FINALE. THE LEADING WOMAN. so that the writers could focus on their male characters more. Also in season 4 the writers forgot that they had to make a Guinevere/Lancelot affair happen (to follow the Arthurian canon that they ~totally~ were following before. this is sarcasm btw). But at that point Gwen as a character was not in a place where she would do that. So instead of writing something actually good they decided to just have Gwen end up with an Enchanted Bracelet That Makes You Cheat On People. I’m not joking. So it wasn’t even her choice to have an affair and they never explore the implications of this. And it’s never even revealed to the characters that she didn’t choose this. She’s just. Never vindicated. Evil and terrible.

2.) At the beginning of the series there was on episode when Gwen was like “women should be allowed to fight” (in a battle that was happening). A big part of her character at the beginning was also knowing armor and weaponry bc she was the blacksmith’s daughter. But then in the series finale they had her say something along the lines for “I’m not meant to fight” just so she could be gone so that the writers could just write about the two male leads

3.) Okay also in the last season they didn’t know what to do with Gwen’s character so for almost half the season they made a plot line where she was mind controlled (again :)))) after being kidnapped and tortured. And like. Again instead of focusing on her and the effects it had on her they made the whole thing an excuse to get Male Lead # 1 and # 2 angsty about it. They had to like. Knock her out and throw her into a lake (magic baptism???) to reverse mind control and then they literally never her reaction to the whole situation ever. Literally objectified for the plot.

#polls #round 1 #week 1 #new #cw pregnancy #cw mind control #cw adultery

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

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This has got to be a mistake. There is no way on this spherical floating rock of fucked-uppery that this is the right hotel room.

Rose petals. Champagne bottles in a glass bucket. A silver tray of chocolate covered strawberries. A goddamn hot tub in the center of the room??

Mistake. Total mistake. The highest of errors.

See, Eddie is just tagging along with Steve on his monthly trips to visit Henderson at his big-brained university. And since Eddie has earned himself an appalling (yet valid) reputation of being flaky as dandruff, Steve was in charge of all the travel arrangements. Gas, schedule, hotel room.

This isn’t a hotel room. This a fucking honeymoon suite.

“The concierge said this was the only room left.” Steve tells him, plopping his duffel bag onto the heart-shaped bed. Which… fuck, really? Those exist outside of soft-core pornos?

“Sure. Okay.” Eddie spots candles on the balcony. Their balcony. Holy… “But why is all of this romantic shit here? Cause I’m sure as hell not paying for any of it.”

Eddie is barely paying for anything to begin with. He bought the snacks at the first gas station stop and has conveniently forgotten to pitch in ever since.

Steve shrugs. “It just… comes with the room, apparently.”

Eddie really wishes Steve had not put emphasis on that specific word. Knowing his hyperactive imagination, he won’t be able to un-hear that phrase for the entire duration of their trip. Awesome.

See, none of this would’ve been a problem two months ago. Up until then, Eddie never thought about inflicting red-rope marks around Steve’s wrists or how salivating it must sound to have his own name leaving Steve’s mouth while it’s stuffed with silk. No. Before two months ago, Eddie had Very Normal thoughts about Steve Harrington.

But since that day - the day Steve insisted on helping Eddie reapply his new eyebrow piercing, Eddie’s normal thoughts have been fucking poisonedwith vulgarity.

It was everything whipped into one moment. The close proximity, the chemical-high off the sanitation wipes, the wetness of Steve’s fingers on him, the slight pinch of the metal threading through Eddie’s skin.

As soon as Steve inserted the thin barbell, Eddie audibly gasped, swore quietly, had to play it off like the insertion hurt or whatever - just so Steve wouldn’t freak the fuck out. It proved to be an ineffective attempt at coolness, obviously Steve knew what he was doing. Has been an absolute tease about it ever since too. Flirty comments with Eddie when no one is around or making subtle touches whenever Eddie is close enough to get away with that sort of thing.

And look, Eddie would happily encourage all of that. He’d get Steve out of that stupid little polo and kiss every muscle on his torso if he thought that’s what Steve really wanted. There’s just no damn way that they are into the same stuff, physically.

Steve is probably nuts about fluffy-pink sex. All wispy touches and muffled moans under the covers. And Eddie doesn’t do that shit. Eddie wants bruising kisses and sensual demands. He wants to dissect all the vanilla parts of Steve and replace them with black magic and velvet.

That. That is why this room, these things, that person, is making this all of this very dangerous for Eddie.

“You okay, man?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.” Liar.

“You’ve been staring at the desk lamp for like, five minutes.”

“Just speculating as to where the interior designer may have found a dark red lightbulb.” Which, yeah. Why is it red? Is red the horniest color? Eddie bets if Steve is lying beneath red lighting, it’ll look like his whole body is flushed, overheated from whatever Eddie is doing to him.

Fuck. This is bad. This is so very bad.

And yet, Steve is so unfazed. So casual. He’s eating the gummies off the snack bar like they’re not shaped like dicks. He’s turning on the stereo as if it’s not only looping through steamy saxophone solos. Why is none of this affecting him like it’s affecting Eddie? Is passion and desire so deeply woven into his Harrington DNA that this stuff is just a typical Tuesday for him? Ugh, Eddie is making his own head spin.

“So…” Eddie sways side to side. “None of this is weird to you?”

“What do you mean?”

What does he mean? What fucking gives? “Uh - there’s a bowl of flavored rubbers sitting next to your hand, dude. How are you so chill about this?”

Steve clinks his nail over the condom bowl. “It’s just stuff. No biggie.”

“Just stuff? It’s like a romance novel threw up in this place.”

“Yeah, but..” Steve counters, sounds irritated. “It’s only romantic if you’re with someone and wanna… get it on.”

Eddie scoffs. “Get it on? What - suddenly, you can’t just say fuck?”

“You’re so annoying.” Steve rolls his eyes, tosses another dick gummy into his mouth. “These are all just things. It’s all about your mindset.”

“I disagree.” Eddie states. “I think anyone with an active libido would wanna fuck all over this sex-trap.”

“Booby-trap.”

“Nice one.” Eddie gives Steve a high-five. Unironically.

“Still…” Steve turns the volume dial down on the stereo. “I think you’re wrong.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve’s arms fold into his chest, taking a step towards Eddie. “Then prove your point. Convince me otherwise.”

Eddie should back down. He should wrap a leash around all of his sick thoughts and chain them up somewhere far away. He should not say what he’s about to say. He shouldn’t.

“How about we make a bet?” Big yikes. Wrong move.

“What kind of bet, Munson?”

“I bet you twenty bucks that I can change your mind. If we can use up all of these so-called ‘regular items,’ without you feeling a twinge of romance, then you win.”

Steve doesn’t respond, so Eddie keeps talking. Can’t shut up anymore.

“But if you so much as blush during any of it, then I win.”

Steve opens his mouth, shuts it. He raises an eyebrow and tries again. “When you say regular items, that excludes the condom bowl, right?”

“What ever do you mean?” Eddie gives a sneaky grin, no restraining his dirty plan now. “You’re not interested in making balloon animals this evening?”

Steve huffs, plops down into a nearby chair. “So weird.”

“Do we have a deal or not, Harrington?”

This is so dumb. Eddie can tell just how dumb it is by the puzzled expression on Steve’s face. But here he is, making bets like he’s still in fucking high school, trying to swindle beefy jocks out of their cushy-privileged allowance money.

However, it appears that Steve is just as dumb as Eddie is.

“Make it forty bucks.” Steve offers a hand out to him.

Eddie accepts it, gives the firmest handshake. “You're on.”

So much for this being a normal evening.

*the rest is on ao3 :) here's the link*

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #this was supposed to be up yesterday sorryyy #hope you like it though!#all the foreplay and spicy bits are on ao3 (if you're into that) ✌️

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disabilities-disabilities · 1 month

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Disabilities refer to impairments that may limit a person's physical, cognitive, sensory, or mental abilities to perform tasks or participate fully in everyday life. Disabilities can vary widely in nature and severity, and they can be temporary or permanent. Here are some common types of disabilities:

Physical disabilities: These involve impairments that affect mobility or physical functioning, such as paralysis, limb loss, or muscular dystrophy.

Sensory disabilities: These include impairments related to sight, hearing, or both. Blindness, low vision, deafness, and hearing loss fall into this category.

Cognitive disabilities: These affect cognitive functions, such as learning, memory, problem-solving, and comprehension. Conditions like dyslexia, ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder), and intellectual disabilities are examples.

Psychiatric or mental health disabilities: These involve conditions that affect a person's mental well-being and functioning, such as depression, anxiety disorders, bipolar disorder, and schizophrenia.

Developmental disabilities: These typically manifest during infancy or childhood and impact physical, learning, language, or behavior development. Examples include autism spectrum disorder and Down syndrome.

Chronic illnesses: While not always considered disabilities in the traditional sense, chronic illnesses such as diabetes, multiple sclerosis, and fibromyalgia can significantly impact a person's daily life and functioning.

Acquired disabilities: These result from injury, illness, or other factors later in life, such as traumatic brain injury (TBI), stroke, or spinal cord injury.

It's important to recognize that each individual's experience of disability is unique, and it's essential to consider their specific abilities, challenges, and needs. Additionally, the concept of disability is evolving, with a growing emphasis on accessibility, inclusion, and the social model of disability, which focuses on removing barriers to participation rather than just addressing impairments.

#nature #disabled #disability #physical disability #cognitive behavioral therapy #human behaviour #self development

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beguines · 2 months

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. . . it can be more accurately hypothesised that the current popularity of mental health self-surveillance and mental illness self-labelling results from psychiatric hegemony and its imbued neoliberal ideology of risk and personal responsivity. As Clarke et al. have stated of this focus on medical surveillance in neoliberal society: "[H]ealth becomes an individual goal, a social and moral responsibility, and a site for routine biomedical intervention . . . the focus is no longer on illness, disability, and disease as matters of fate, but on health as a matter [of] ongoing moral self-transformation.

Through psychiatric hegemony, then, we are all implicated as "at risk" of mental illness and must constantly self-monitor for potential signs of disorder (as many professional associations and drug adverts advise us). Clarke has summated the importance of this mental health self-governance in neoliberal society with reference to the rise of disorders such as ADHD. She states:

"Neo-liberal governance is typified by its emphasis on citizen involvement as individuals take independent action and become enterprises (or entrepreneurs) unto themselves and in a sense police themselves by internalising and enacting prevailing truths about the identification and management of risks . . . Neo-liberalism depends on self-governance (or in the case of children, governance by parents and similar authorities). For instance, mothers increasingly turn to . . . individualising children's (mis)behaviour as disordered through mental illness discourse, of which attention deficit disorder (ADD)/Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is the most prevalent around the globe today."

The parent has successfully sought help and aided the medicalisation of the child's deviant behaviour. This is a neoliberal process of social control which is so successful that Norris and Lloyd have noticed that the mental illness diagnosis often comes as a relief to the parent, "first, because they have located the 'cause' of their child's distress, and secondly, because they, as parents, are not to blame . . . Their child's 'abnormal' behaviour is, in this account, a medical issue to be rectified through medication that makes 'normal' their child's brain dysfunction."

Bruce M.Z. Cohen, Psychiatric Hegemony: A Marxist Theory of Mental Illness

#bruce m.z. cohen #psychiatric hegemony #psychiatry

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roetrolls · 1 month

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Proxy War

Catching a Pravus unawares is no easy feat, doubly so for a Pravus on the lam. As hyperactive as your mind can be, you’re never too distracted to keep your head up, and If Zerkev has taught you anything, it’s to watch your six.

You’ve gotten relaxed in the city, especially knowing the House of Restoration hasn’t given you up yet, but you’re far from careless. Rarely do you walk the streets without some portion of your brain on high alert, eyes and ears always primed for danger.

Who would have thought your father’s own anxious habits would be the very thing keeping you out of his grasp? A bit of poetic irony, there. Your little quartet seems chock full of the stuff.

Most nights, your careful surveillance amounts to nothing. But as Zerkev always told you, nine-hundred and ninety-nine nights could be safe. What you need to be ready for is one.

And, as luck would have it, it seems you’ve found the one in question.

It’s brief––a quick flash in your peripheral, barely there for a second––but there’s no mistaking what you saw. That was Zerkev’s cape.

He’s gone when you snap your head to look for him, likely turned the corner into the bustle of street traffic near the Roatus family’s church. God, you’d nearly forgotten it, but this place is his, isn’t it? You really have been just under his nose.

No time to be smug, though. You need to get out of sight. Leaving no room for hesitation or pride, you turn tail and run (well, power-walk, running draws eyes) back the way you came. No big deal, you’ve got contingency plans in place for exactly this kind of threat. You’ll shoot Styx a text and camp out at Lowgrounds until someone can get you back to Ilioneus.

You pull your phone from your pocket as you walk, typing with one hand and raising the other to your mouth. The taste of polish reminds you not to bite just as your thumbnail finds its way between your teeth.

In roughly the same instant, you crash into something bony and unyielding, and the collision sends your phone clattering to the pavement. Fuck. You hope the screen’s not cracked.

You lift your head and, hypocrite that you are, get ready to tell this jackass they should watch where they’re going. The thought dies on your lips, however, when you are met with a grinning two-toned face, slathered halfway with paint and entirely too close, their nose practically brushing yours. They cock their head to the side, smile widening enough to make them squint.

“Hello, Little Prince.”

You leap away with an involuntary shout, regretfully startled by the clown’s encroaching face.

“What the fuck!?” is all you can think to say, fins flaring their surprise. That’s an Otrame– one of Mahkir’s right hands. What the hell are they doing in the city?

Where’s the other one?

No sooner has the thought occurred to you than you receive an answer, a pair of thin arms snaking out from behind you to hook themselves under yours and heft you back, legs hanging uselessly off the ground. A pair of lips settle beside your ear, their smile audible.

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

The twin in front of you, Erilee you think, giggles their delight. “A full one-eighty.”

“On the run?”

“Must have seen something.”

“Something frightful.”

“What was it, Little Prince? We’re dreadfully curious.”

God, these freaks are annoying. With a growl in your throat, you twist and thrash against Elison’s sturdy grip, scrabbling wildly as you attempt to ram your dangling feet against something vulnerable. Each time you’re about to find an opening, though, he contorts himself to avoid the blow, laughing as your kicks repeatedly fail to connect.

“He’s distracted,” your walking crucifix tells his twin, wiggling you for emphasis. “Yoohoo, Princey! We’re talking to you!”

“What the fuck do you want?” you snap, baring your teeth at the clown that can see them.

“Mean,” he pouts.

“So mean.”

“I only asked you a question.”

“An easy one too!”

“We don’t get to choose, you know.”

“Not like our Benji-boy.”

“Our Benny…”

“So talented.”

“Would you shut the fuck up!?” you bark, irritation mounting.

Both twins giggle at your outburst, locking eyes over your squirming shoulder. Erilee’s grin widens. He decides to move first, peeling away to slip into the narrow alley at the end of the block.

Somehow, it takes watching him turn the corner for their jabbering to connect, and your mind leaps back to the fleeting glimpse of Zerkev that sent you this way.

Like Benjin, they said. The fuckers had you seeing things.

Since when were hallucinations a part of their powerset? You knew they could cause daymares– how had it never occurred to you that they might be able to conjure waking ones as well?

Another growl rises from your chest as Elison follows their brother into the alley, toting you along as though you weigh nothing at all. You twist to peer over his shoulder and gaze helplessly at your phone, still laying face-down on the sidewalk. At least the street is empty. Hopefully it’ll still be there once you get out of this mess.

If it’s not… Fuck, you don’t even want to think about that. You’re careful with the information you save, but anything could be a lead in the right hands. Your mind flits briefly to your sister, the way she pinned down Veylin’s details for you. Guilt pools in your stomach.

Then something else displaces it.

You’re still craning your neck to see onto the street when a fist rams your gut with enough force to make your gills spasm. You sputter from the impact, folding in on yourself with a groan.

“A little weak for a fuschia, isn’t he?” Erilee asks, shaking out their hand.

“Is he?” Elison’s voice sounds in your ear again.

“I don’t know!” they chirp gleefully, “I’ve never hit one before!”

Fucking clowns.

There’s no way Zerkev would have sent these tools to find you… Right? It had to be Mahkir. But why?

Ben?

Is it possible he knows? He was following Veylin closely enough to send that bouquet. Is this the next step up? Another escalation?

“He’s got a thinking face on, Ellie.”

“You’re going to regret this,” you grit uselessly, the threat sounding about as pathetic as you feel right now. Elison’s hold is unflinching, but you try once more to thrash your way to freedom, swinging your legs in hopes of gaining momentum without wasting energy.

Erilee watches you squirm with a cloying smile.

“Are we?”

“I’m off-limits! Mahkir fucking knows–” Unf.

Erilee’s fist once again finds itself lodged in your stomach, this time landing so hard that even Elison staggers slightly. It’s enough to have you seeing spots, and you’re still recovering from the shock when that same hand moves to grip you harshly by the face. Squeezing your jaw until your lips pucker, Erilee fixes you with a tight and threatening grin.

“We think,” he starts, fingers digging into your musculature, “that you. Should use. His title.”

Little freaks. You make a mental note to never again complain about your upbringing in front of Benjin. There’s something seriously wrong with these guys.

“Fine,” you grunt, voice muffled slightly by the iron grip Erilee maintains on your face. “The Dominion knows better than to hurt me. Zerkev–”

“And yourself… Not exactly on speaking terms, are you, Little Prince?”

Your shoulders drop, as much as they can with your arms held aloft like this, at least, but you don’t back down.

“You can’t fucking touch me.”

“No?” “That doesn’t sound right,” Elison chimes in, waggling you in the air. “I’m touching him right now!”

“Must be mistaken.”

“Terribly mistaken.”

“Maybe he wants more proof.”

“They do like facts, those Pravuses.”

Yet again, Erilee bludgeons you with a fist, wailing on the same tender spot for a third time. The pained whimper his blow elicits is embarrassing, and with how Elison giggles in response to it (would they quit giggling already?) you imagine they think the same.

“He’s fun, isn’t he?” they coo at their twin before turning their focus back to you, voice dropping to speak directly in your ear. “I wonder how long Harlan could keep you before your daddy caught on…”

Your veins turn to ice.

There’s no way. Not even Mahkir is self-absorbed enough to pick a fight with your father, and swiping you out from under him, hiding you from him, would do exactly that. He’d have to be the most short-sighted troll in the galaxy to plan a stunt like this.

It’s a bluff.

It has to be.

But you’re not waiting around to find out.

A surge of adrenaline gives you the push you need to ignore your aching core, and you slump forward as far as you can before rearing back to slam your skull against Elison’s. They drop you almost instantly, hands shooting to cup their bloodied face, and you fall to the ground in a heap.

Broken noses.

Not fun.

Erilee is already jumping into action as you stagger to your feet, and you barely manage to jump away in time when they make a grab for your fins.

So that’s their style. Get you between a rock and a hard place, find something vulnerable and hold it hostage.

You can play that game.

Pivoting on your heel, you dodge another grab from Erilee and take a swipe of your own, closing your hand around Elison’s horn and yanking them in front of you like a shield. They hiss slightly as you jostle them, still holding their face, and you place your free hand on their throat.

Erilee stares into you, expression blank save for the darkening shade of their sclera.

“Tell Mahkir to meet me himself next time,” you spit, baring your teeth at him.

In front of you, Elison begins to giggle again. “What a farce.”

Laughter wracks his shoulders, briefly, before he winces and falls still, though the sound carries on just the same.

“You don’t want that, Princey,” he chortles, grinning despite the searing pain in his face. “You don’t want that at all.”

Erilee’s gaze flicks to their brother for a moment before returning to you, just as murderous as before. You feel your shoulders tense, as if waiting for him to pounce, but he doesn’t seem to be preparing a move.

Focused as you are on the other twin, you don’t realize until too late that Elison is busy eyeing the placement of your hand on his throat. He snaps his head to the side suddenly, a move that has to hurt like hell with his broken nose, and clamps his own sharpened fangs around your forearm. You feel your skin split under his teeth, and panic blossoms in your chest.

On reflex, you jerk away from the attack, drastically worsening the bite in your rush to free yourself from it.

But you don’t feel the blood yet. There’s time.

Erilee’s expression shifts, no doubt a reaction to the prey-like fear overtaking your previously determined features, but you don’t have the wherewithal to analyze their face.

You bolt, the only thing you can think to do, and skid onto the street with your heart hammering in your ears. You’re on borrowed time.

You might not faint! You don’t always faint. But you sure as hell can’t fight.

Can’t focus.

Need that energy to ignore it.

Ignore the warm trickle running into your palm. Sticky. Wet. Your stomach turns.

Ignore.

You might hear their footsteps. You don’t check. Pavement’s empty. Phone. Phone’s gone.

Okay.

Just run.

Following? You’re not sure. You can feel the blood, feel droplets fly off as you sprint mindlessly down the road. Fuck. Don’t look.

He has it in his mouth. Your blood is in his mouth.

A wave of nausea nearly knocks you over, and you struggle to control your breathing. Your head is swimming, the edges of your vision blurred. But you see someone. You see purple. Leather jacket. Benjin? No. Good. Last person that should be here.

He has a phone. You know that sticker, he has your phone. He’s holding it funny.

You know him.

Thank god, you know him.

With shallow breaths, you throw yourself into the troll and grip his arms for leverage, catching an unfortunate glimpse of your own bloody wound in the process.

“Roatus,” you warble, pointing a shaky finger in his face. “You take this to your fucking grave.”

He raises his eyebrows and looks past you, just as your knees finally buckle beneath your weight.

#writing #erilee otrame #elison otrame #the twins #mallum writing #not bothering w the twins for now. cause i mean. npcs

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bitter69uk · 11 months

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Adieu to Christian Aaron “Ari” Boulogne (11 August 1962 – May 2023), whose body was discovered yesterday in his Parisian apartment. He’d seemingly been dead for some time. His girlfriend and her 21-year-old son are now being questioned by French authorities. It’s a gruesome and tragic end for the troubled 60-year-old Boulogne, who’d long struggled with mental health problems, drug addiction and poverty. His parents were German fashion model-turned Warhol Superstar-turned gloomy heroin-ravaged chanteuse Nico (1938 – 1988) and European art cinema heartthrob Alain Delon (who’s consistently denied paternity). Boulogne’s story is vividly captured in the 1995 documentary Nico: Icon and his mother’s definitive biography, Nico: The Life and Lies of an Icon (1993) by Richard Witts. As a toddler (while Nico was singing with the Velvet Underground), Boulogne was the indulged mascot in Andy Warhol’s Factory. I know it’s impossible to watch (I caught it years ago when the British Film Institute held a Warhol retrospective), but a nice way to remember him is via Warhol’s 1966 movie Ari and Mario. In it, busy single mom Nico calls on Puerto Rican drag queen / underground film starlet Mario Montez (pictured) to baby-sit her young son at her cramped room in New York's louche Chelsea Hotel. High jinks ensue. Cherub-faced Ari is adorable but so hyperactive he is virtually feral. Montez offers to read to him, sing to him and dance for him, but Ari is oblivious to her charms and more interested in alternately pretending to be a crocodile and a cowboy and shooting her with his toy gun (towards the end Montez finally snaps, "Can't you find something else to shoot at?"). Off-screen from behind the camera Warhol himself audibly encourages Ari to misbehave. Devoid of his usual cocktail of sadomasochism and amphetamines, Ari and Mario's emphasis on innocence and domesticity is a sweet exception in the Warhol canon.

#ari boulogne #nico #christa paffgen #andy warhol #alain delon #mario montez #ari and mario #underground cinema #the velvet underground and nico #warhol superstar

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sepublic · 2 years

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We all talk of how Avatar the Last Airbender has really influenced this generation of animators and showrunners who grew up on it, and you can see its traces too! And we know Dana enjoyed ATLA, she’s done fanart of the Gaang, people have compared Hunter to Zuko! So with the six kids we have set up as our protagonists for Season 3, I want to try to make meta comparisons…

Obviously, Luz is Aang; The young and hyperactive main protagonist, but actually has a lot of baggage and trauma they’re dealing with. A central catalyst for the show itself, and wields all of the elements.

Amity is Katara; Both voiced by Mae Whitman, similar fighting styles. Rebelling against a social expectation to be this nice and tidy girl against her family. Has that energy to fret over friends and maybe overstep boundaries in the process, and do well at school. And they’re the main protagonist’s love interest.

Gus is Sokka; While the others have a lot more emphasis on physical strength and force, his specialties are more subtle and dare I say intellectual. Sokka is more of a strategist, while Gus uses his illusions to trick and outsmart others; They’re also associated with the color blue and are comedic relief, and VERY smart, being prodigious.

Willow is Toph; Green girls with impaired sight, and by far the physical powerhouse of the group, with abilities directly connected to the earth. Initially seen as shy and demure, but they reveal who they really are as powerful jocks, and conflict with being dismissed as helpless.

Hunter is Zuko; The Bad but Sad Boy, has a messed-up parental figure related to him in the main antagonist, dictator of the regime our protagonists fight to overthrow. Scarred by his parent, he has a lot of internalized issues to unlearn and starts off as an outright enemy, but eventually realizes he’s worth more than this and is now recovering.

Vee is Suki; To be honest, it’s because they’re relatively underdeveloped compared to the rest, and added fairly late in the game, despite having always been there early-on. Not as much of a mainstay, in-and-out from the focus of the main group, but now she’s been properly situated!

Really, you could even compare the premise of Season 3 to ATLA’s; With both TOH and ATLA ending their Season 2 with the triumph of the antagonist, a darkest hour, as they all recuperate in a setting generally unfamiliar to them. Which is where we start off S3, with some design updates to boot as things get darker and more mature!

#the owl house #avatar the last airbender #atla #luz noceda #aang #amity blight #katara #gus porter #augustus porter #sokka #toph beifong #willow park #the owl house hunter #zuko #vee noceda #suki #parallels

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blackwolfstabs · 7 months

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30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 10

GAME NIGHT

To get some quiet, 11-year-old Sam agrees to play hide & seek with four rowdy 6-year-olds, except all doesn’t go as smoothly as anticipated.

(side note: Tara's technically still 5 bc her birthday's in December and this takes place in September...)

Sam unleashed a heavy sigh that was 40% annoyed and 60% tired as she glanced away from the clock. 7:02 PM, and she had at least 30 more minutes of listening to Tara, Chad, Mindy, and Wes run around like a pack of hyperactive puppies. It was already dark outside, and they had been at it since 3:30 that afternoon… Didn’t they ever get tired? She was beginning to regret agreeing to watch all of them extra late today… Even during, dinner they hadn’t settled for some quiet, regardless of her telling them that it’s not polite to talk with their mouths full or play with their food. And speaking of which…

The thought reminded Sam that she hadn’t put away the leftover macaroni and cheese that didn’t get eaten. At least that would kill some time. She got up from the couch and went to the kitchen, where she threw away the parchment paper that the chicken nuggets had been on first, before going to find a plastic container to conserve the other half of the meal.

Halfway through scraping the macaroni into the tupperware, shouting came from upstairs. It was the kind of shouting that was a mystery as to whether it was the good kind or the bad kind. But it didn’t stay that way for long, for as Sam tossed the used pot into the sink and went to put the leftovers in the refrigerator, a door from above flew open and the noise grew louder.

“Tara!” Mindy called from inside the room they had been in.

“That wasn’t fair!” Tara’s voice cracked in that way it always did when she was starting to cry.

“Look what you did, Chad!” Wes barked.

Chad answered, “What? I won, fair and square! You’re just being a baby about it, Tara!”

The youngest’s voice came from the top of the staircase, seemingly intent on making her way down to go pout about whatever she didn’t win, “Shut up, stupid!”

Now, Samantha shut the door to make way to the stairs as she heard her sister storming down. “Hey!” she snapped, making all four go silent. She found Tara’s teary eyes and crossed arms. “We don’t say that, Tara, it’s not nice,” her voice softened from yelling, but stayed firm.

“Well, Chad’s being mean,” she returned, stomping her foot for emphasis. Then, the so-called bully came to join her.

He defended himself, “No, she’s just mad because I won!” Behind him, Mindy and Wes appeared but stayed quiet.

Sam looked from Chad to Tara. “Tara, what did Chad do that was mean?”

The girl twisted her body in frustration, refusing to look at her friend and her sister as she tried to come up with something. But the truth was, she was just angry that she didn’t win. She always won, and she was proud of that. “Nothing…” she mumbled, while scuffing the floor with her foot.

Her older sister could take some of the blame for her attitude. She always let her win, even when it wasn’t fair. So, she was used to it. There was only a spare amount of times when Sam would stick to her guns and keep Tara from getting what she wanted, but that was usually when she was trying to take something away that she was playing with. Their mother had reminded her that Tara needed to understand the concept of sharing, so every now and then she would make sure her baby sister faced the fact that she couldn’t have everything she wanted when she wanted it. “Okay, so you owe Chad an apology,” she told her, “Tell him you’re sorry for saying mean things to him.”

However, Tara just tightened her crossed arms and turned away from the boy on her right with a whine. “I don’t want to.”

Sam shifted with a semi-aggravated sigh. She knew all 4 of them were overtired, which would encourage them to exhibit inappropriate behavior, but it was giving her a headache now. “Tara, if you don’t tell him you’re sorry, I’ll tell Mom and then she’ll put you in time-out when she gets home,” she warned.

The other’s expression changed a little, and she forced herself to turn around. “Sorry, Chad…”

While it seemed like she was being genuine, Sam wanted it to be sincere by the way their parents taught them. “Mean it,” she said, “Give him a hug.”

And she did. Chad embraced her back with a smile. “It’s okay, Tara,” he accepted her apology. He then stepped back to further promise her, “You’ll win next time.”

Oh, God and if she didn’t? The eldest of the group fought back the temptation to run her hand over her face in dread for what might not come in her favor. However, before they could insinuate another game, Mindy leapt onto the steps.

“Hey, Sam, can you play with us this time?”

Sam’s initial thought was no, absolutely not, because it would just turn into her trying to rein in the 4 of them bickering about who was going to do what or how the game should be played, and she was not in the mood to handle a meltdown. She was sure she’d walk out of the house and leave them to figure it out. But when she looked at them, they each seemed excited at the thought of her getting involved. Just 30 more minutes hopefully… she could keep them entertained for that long, right? She sighed, “You know what, sure.” She turned around to make way back to the living room, aware of the stampede of little footsteps following her, “But I get to pick the game, got it?”

“Okay!” was the unison reply.

Once they were all gathered by the couch, the alpha turned around. “We’re gonna play Hide & Seek. You all are gonna go hide, and I’m gonna seek,” she told them, “Whoever is the last to be found gets to be the next seeker. Sound fair?”

The twins nodded eagerly, while Wes and Tara voiced their acceptance.

“Yeah!”

“Uh-huh!” Then the small Carpenter pointed in the direction of their parents’ room. “You go count in Mommy and Daddy’s room, because we can’t go in there.” She bolted for the stairs again, shouting to her friends. “Come on!”

As Samantha started for her parents’ room, she called out to them, “Stay out of my room, please!”

“Why?!” was Mindy’s questioning voice.

They were at that age where everything was answered with why? “Because I said!” she replied.

“Okay!”

“Count to 100!” Chad told their seeker, before vanishing out of sight.

So, she did. To get a little over a minute-and-a-half break, Sam laid down on her parents’ bed, while counting to 100 in her head, like instructed. For hiders, the quad of kids weren’t very quiet. Thumping and footsteps could be heard both upstairs and downstairs, but to be fair—and keep them hidden for as long as possible to pass the time—she pretended not to hear it.

96, 97, 98, 99…

100.

All was quiet by the time she had reached 55, so she figured everyone had picked a spot and stayed there. There were countless times when she and Tara would play, and Tara would come out of her hiding spot because she’d changed her mind and made Sam go back and recount again. “Ready or not, here I come!” she announced the game’s script, even though she knew they had to be ready otherwise they were just going to be found first. She never really understood why saying those words were necessary. Just some sort of acknowledgement that the seeker is on the hunt should suffice, because saying ‘here I come’ just sounded a little weird, but whatever…

She searched the living room first, checking the cabinets beneath the TV as well as the storage space of the ottoman. Nothing. Then, she moved the curtains and opened the closet. Still nothing. So, she moved to the kitchen.

Clearly, there was no one underneath the table, and the only other place that a small person could hide would be the bottom cabinets. However, not a trace of life was present. Sam turned at the far end of the kitchen island, catching the two places of exit on the same wall. One went into the formal dining room, while the other went to the mud room. Beneath the jackets hanging, there was subtle movement and a pair of small lavender shoes that weren’t familiar to the house.

Mindy.

She came around quietly, like a stalking cat, keeping the essence of the game alive as she ducked into the shadows. She grabbed the black cover-up and pulled it aside, where she found who she guessed was there. “Found you, Mindy.”

The girl laid her hands out in confusion, “How?! It’s so dark in here!”

Her genuinely disbelieved tone actually made Sam laugh with a shrug. “Maybe wear darker shoes next time,” she suggested, as she held the jacket aside and waved her to come out into the light.

She obeyed, nodding at the feedback. “Yeah, that wasn’t very smart of me…”

Immediately, the older female jumped in to assure her, “No, don’t say that about yourself. You’re very smart.” Being Tara’s big sister taught her how important building self-worth was. She had struggled to do it for herself, but with Tara’s already weakened condition from her asthma, she always made sure that Tara never looked down on herself for things she couldn’t control or things that weren’t important. It’d become a habit. “I’ll tell you what,” she began as she leaned down to Mindy’s level. When she received undivided, curious attention, she went on, “How about you continue to look for the others down here and I’ll search upstairs? You’ve got a really good eye, so I know you’ll do really good.”

Meeks-Martin brightened, that sparkle that she was famous for finding its way to her eyes as she gave a small hop of excitement. “Okay!”

“Alright, let’s go!” Mindy’s thrill of being praised encouraged Sam’s thrill of being involved in the game as she turned around to run for the stairs. “We’re a team now, so let me know if you find anyone!”

“I will!” The other’s voice dictated that she had already raced away to begin her new job.

Sam prowled the second floor, checking every closet and behind every door. Her door had stayed shut, so she assumed they had listened to what she said about staying out of there, thankfully… However, Tara’s room hadn’t been off-limits. It would’ve been too predictable for Tara to hide in there, but not Chad or Wes. This thought led her to the threshold for her next stop. Nothing seemed to be moved around from when the 4 had been playing in there earlier, but she had learned a thing or two about kids their age being sneaky. Hell, she was quite the fox when she was that age.

She scanned the bed, behind the curtains and in the closet, but… nothing. She gently kicked some abandoned puzzle pieces aside, before kneeling down for the last place she hadn’t checked. The depths of the most feared place of all children: under the bed.

Not a soul lingered… but there was an empty Goldfish bag.

Sam sighed. “Tara…” They weren’t supposed to eat upstairs, yet this had been there for some time. She slipped the bag into her pocket to continue searching, planning to throw it away in the bathroom trash can. When she got there, she turned on the light and tossed it into the bin, only to be caught off-guard by the shower curtain flying open.

“Rraahhh!”

Not expecting someone to hide in the shower, the growl-like outburst had her flinching with a yelp, but as pleasured giggling followed, she dropped her cringed demeanor. “Chad!” Her jump-started heart took a minute to recover as she shook her head. “You’re not supposed to come out of your hiding spot,” she covered up her alarm with an objection.

But the boy didn’t care as he leapt out of the bath/shower combo. “I know, but I knew you were gonna find me, so I wanted to scare you,” he defended himself.

Samantha just smirked and rolled her eyes. “I’ve already found Mindy, so now we’re looking for Tara and Wes.”

“Oh, Tara’s up here!” he blurted and darted out of the bathroom. “Come on!”

While it was technically against the rules to tell the seeker where the other hiders were, the pre-teen went with it anyway and followed him into the guest bedroom, where he went straight to the pile of pillows at the head of the bed.

Chad leapt up onto the mattress and pounced on the stash, earning a muffled squeak from beneath. “We found you, Tara!” he called in a sing-song voice as he ripped the pillows away to reveal the hider’s curled up body.

From the side of the bed, Sam braced herself for her sister to erupt into an attitude, shouting that Chad was cheating for already knowing where she was. But instead, the young girl busted out into laughter and jumped up from her crouched position.

“Hi, Sam!” she greeted her with a big smile and shining eyes.

Her hair was a mess from being tucked into a ball, which made her older sister giggle as she put her hand up, “Hi.” The two children then slipped off the bed, leading her to inform them, “Wes is the only one left. Let’s go see if Mindy has had any luck.” But right as she said that, the mentioned girl’s voice came bellowing through the house.

“Sam!”

She didn’t sound right though.

This sent the called being’s heart into a race as she turned around and fled out of the room. She could already hear Mindy’s running footsteps coming to the staircase.

“Saaaam!”

“What, Mindy?! What’s wrong?!” She nearly skidded on the stairs, having to stop herself from slamming into the child, who met her a quarter of the way up.

“Wes is stuck in the tree!” she shouted.

It took a brief moment for Sam to process what she had said, but she soon found herself heading for the backdoor with Mindy, Chad, and Tara on her heels. “He’s not even supposed to be outside,” she hissed as she threw the door open and ran into the night. And just like the older twin had said, Wes was clinging to a branch up in the tree in the middle of the yard.

A high branch, at that…

As she approached the trunk, she called up to him. “Wes, you know you’re not supposed to be outside! What are you doing up there?!”

He whimpered, clearly upset with being so high up but also with the fact that he had done something wrong. “I just wanted a good hiding spot…” he confessed, the tears in his eyes becoming present to the rest through his voice. “B-but I can’t get down! I’m scared, Sam!”

If she was older, she’d curse… because she did not want to climb that tree. Being an older sibling, she had been forced to outgrow many of her fears, but she was never able to shake her fear of heights. However, she was the oldest one there right now. Her parents, and Wes’s mom, and Mindy and Chad’s mom were depending on her to make the adult decisions. She was going to be 12 years-old next May, and it was the end of September now. She was the only one who could do this. She couldn’t just leave him in the tree until their parents came. She should be able to handle this… shouldn’t she? “Um… okay,” she didn’t realize she was agreeing to this until she was agreeing to it. “Okay, it’s okay, Wes! Uh…” She glanced around as if there were going to be some ladder or something that would magically spawn out of nowhere. But there wasn’t, just the 3 faces of the other kids staring at her. That told her that they were depending on her too… She looked back up to the boy in the tree. “I’m… I’m gonna come get you! Just hang on!”

The last time she had climbed this tree, she had been in the same situation as Wes was in now. She and Tara had been playing this same game, and she had the bright idea to climb the tree because Tara couldn’t get in the dang tree. That’s when she got very familiar with her fear. Tara had to go get their father, who had to climb up to get her down.

Now, here she was…

Samantha paced up to the tree trunk and took a deep breath. “Oh, God, okay…” she exhaled and lifted her gaze to the obstacle course above. ‘Don’t look down, now,’ she told herself, before grabbing ahold of the lowest branch. This was it.

From above, Wes bit back a cry. “S-Saaam…”

Before she could reply, Tara answered to him from the ground. “It’s okay, Wes! Sam’s coming!”

And that’s when her big-sister-instincts kicked in. Sam dug her nails into the bark and pressed the soles of her shoes into the dips the trunk and limbs provided. Grabbing each branch one by one with a grip as tight as hers had the skin of her palms ripping and her fingers burning like she was touching a hot stove. She swallowed back a whimper as the pain ran deep, but she kept her eyes fixed on Wes. He was her main priority. She threw her arm towards the last branch and grunted as she pulled herself up. Her foot slipped a little, which provoked a startled gasp from her, and she had to stop for a moment to recover.

‘Don’t look down. Whatever you do, don’t look down.’ She rehearsed the words over and over again in her head, her anxiety of falling making tears of her own threaten to take hold of her.

She tried to think of the way she’d seen animals move and climb in the cartoon movies she and Tara watched and tried to mimic that. It seemed to work well, so it couldn’t be terribly different for people, right? She remembered what her father had said when he had saved her from this situation.

‘ "Just breathe, Sam. I’ve got you." ’

She was clinging to his neck when he’d said this, shaking while crying into his shoulder.

‘ "As long as you hold on tight, you won’t fall." ’

Sam took a deep breath and raised her chin, blinking her lurking tears away. Wes didn’t know what she knew, so she had to tell him herself. And the only way to do that was to make it to him and be confident, just like her dad was. So, she did. She clawed her way to where he was and assured him as he jumped onto her. “You’re okay,” she positioned herself to be able to caress him with one arm, “I’ve got you.”

“Yay, Sam!” Mindy shouted from below.

“You did it!” Tara accompanied, while Chad was too busy watching.

Wes was trembling against Sam as she took a moment to collect herself. She was going to have to do things a little differently than what her father did with her because of her youthful strength. “Wes, listen to me, okay?” She kept her balance for the time being. “You’re gonna have to get on my back, so I can climb down. Can you do that for me?”

But he just sniffled with a shudder. “I… I want my mom,” he whined, clutching her shirt as if the rest of the world was out to get him.

“I know,” she tried to soothe him, “I know, and she’ll be here soon. But I’m here right now, and I will get you down.” She could feel the warmth from his tears soak her shoulder. “I promise.” The longer they stayed up there, the more anxious she became. “But you have to do what I say, okay? As long as you hold on tight, you won’t fall.”

The boy nodded and eased away from her figure to do what she told him. Sam kept one arm against him as he made his way onto her back and fastened his arms around her neck. “You ready?” she asked.

“Mm-hmm…”

“Alright. Here we go…” Having the added weight onto her back made the older Carpenter feel twice the strain on her hands as she began the climb down. Not to mention, his hold on her neck made breathing difficult, and the way his legs wrapped around her torso had his shoes pressing uncomfortably into her stomach. However, the most important thing was for him to hold on tight, like she said, so she didn’t hold it against him.

And right as her feet hit the ground, the back door opened.

“What are you doing out here?!”

“Mama!” Tara was the first to turn and flock to her mother’s voice. “We were playing Hide & Seek and Wes got stuck in the tree, so Sam had to get him down,” she explained.

Christina looked up from her youngest daughter to find her oldest kneeling on the ground to let Wes off of her back. Behind her, Judy appeared to speak before she could.

“Well done, Samantha!” the officer praised as her son came running up to her. She picked him up and set him on her hip. “But didn’t I tell you to stay out of trees, Wes?” Her tone dropped when she spoke to him, but softened once more when he nodded and leaned against her shoulder. As the twins and Sam came to join them, she nodded to the eldest, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Sam replied, regardless of the marathon her heart was still running. She then glanced over to Christina, expecting to be scolded for not being more clear on giving the kids proper directions. However, instead, her head was pet with a soft hand.

“Good girl, Sam,” her mother spoke with a smile.

And all of the sudden, Sam’s heart slowed, and she found herself smiling back, a sense of pride and self-achievement flooding through her to drown out the fear. Tara’s weight then slammed into her side as her waist was encased by her little arms.

“You were so brave!”

She chuckled, “Thanks, Tara.”

Judy cut in to dismiss herself and her son, “Alright, it’s getting late, so we better get going.”

Christina nodded. “Of course.” She then waved the rest to follow them in. “Come on inside! Chad, Mindy, your mom should be here any minute.”

The twins and Tara raced inside, while Judy followed with Wes, and then Christina and Sam.

It had been one hell of an eventful night… and it all started at 7:02 PM.

Okay, so it was one hell of an eventful 30 minutes.

this took me way too long to write rip.

I'm pretty sure I had more to say but I'm lowkey brain-dead atm soooooooo

All my best and blessings to you! ♡ - parker

#scream #scream v #scream vi #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #wes hicks #christina carpenter #judy hicks #30 day writing challenge #game night #AU: The Way I Am

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practically-an-x-man · 4 months

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Here's a kinda funny one, no pressure

"Do you not possess the ability to shut up for more than five seconds?"

Oooh I like it! Let's go with Quinn and our friends at the Graveyard for this one...

____

"I'm telling, it's physically impossible to fluster someone who knows they're hot," Billy doubled down, splaying his hands wide, "It's scientifically proven."

"By what scientists?" Five pointed out, lifting an eyebrow at him, "How is it proven?"

"Okay, fine, maybe it's not scientifically proven," he admitted with a shrug, "But it is proven. By me."

"Alright, fine." Three said. He looked too curious, Quinn thought. Make way for the impending monologue... "What'cha got?"

"Okay, so," Billy started, shifting up in his seat. Quinn couldn't help but smile. They were in for something good. "Think about it. You're walkin' down the street. You're in a coffee shop. You see a pretty girl and you say, 'Has anyone ever told you you're stunning, love?', and she like... blushes and ducks her head and kinda says 'Oh, thank you, that's really sweet of you,' then she doesn't know she's hot. But if she says, I dunno, 'Only on Tuesdays' or something, doesn't even blink, she knows she's cute already. Y'know, you can't surprise someone by saying 'you're hot' if in their brain they're already thinking 'I'm hot.' It's the element of surprise."

"Cute and hot are two very different adjectives," Five jumped in, "Not the same."

"And I think it's less about the 'you're hot' part and more about the fact that you call every living human woman 'love'," Quinn added.

"Can't help it, love, it's how I talk." he breezed ahead, pausing only to shoot her a suave grin, "And you don't know you're hot either."

"I think I'm hot, I'm just an acquired taste." they responded, tugging on the back of their Mohawk for emphasis.

"Ah- no. That's a caveat. Caveats don't count. You have to think you're completely, one-hundred-percent hot for it to work," Billy said, jabbing a finger at her, "Which you are, but that's not the point."

"Do you not possess the ability to shut up for more than five seconds?" Quinn cut in - more humorous than truly biting, but a sharp tease all the same.

"You know I don't. Now-" he pressed on without missing a beat, "You flirt with a hot girl, or a hot guy, or... whoever, and they get all blushy and stammery? They don't know they're hot. You flirt with someone and they don't even blink, they just flirt right back? They know exactly what they've got going for them. Case in point. You can't fluster someone who knows they're hot."

"I heard somewhere... fifty percent of people don't know they're being flirted at," Two chimed in, raising her eyebrows at him, "Doesn't matter if they're 'hot' or not."

"Yeah, but you're hot and you know it." Billy said, waving a hand a little dismissively.

"Hey-" Three started, firing him a warning look. Billy held up his hands.

"No offense. You know I'm with Quinn. That's not what I mean. But I'm sayin', fifty percent of people don't realize it 'cause they don't care. If you don't know you're hot you get surprised when someone actually does start flirting. You're like... hyperaware of it. But if you know, it doesn't matter if you're bein' flirted at or not."

"This is the weirdest fucking argument..." Quinn muttered, half-amused, under her breath. Billy kept going, but Quinn just strapped on their crutches and rocked up to their feet. For a moment or two, she just watched him - speaking animatedly with his hands, lost in his own world... strange subject manner aside, she found it cute when he was caught in one of his hyperactive diatribes like this.

"-and it's harder with guys, 'cause if you try flirting and they're like hardcore straight then they don't just get flustered, they get uncomfortable and that's not the same, so you can't really tell if they think they're hot or if they just weren't expecting a dude to say they're- mm!"

Needless to say, a kiss like that was about the only way to keep him silent for longer than a few seconds. Quinn released her grip on the front of his hoodie to instead run her hands down his shoulders. After a few long moments, she pulled back just enough to whisper in his ear.

"My trailer," she murmured, "Five minutes."

They took a few steps back, biting their cheek to hold back their smile. Billy's face had flushed bright pink - rare, with his boundless reserves of self-confidence - and he fumbled for words for a moment or two.

"And... I, uh-"

"See?" Quinn cut him off, triumphant, "That's how you fluster someone who knows they're hot."

#my friends!!!#answered asks #my writing #my ocs #oc quinn/aces #6 underground #6 underground fanfic #humor #banter #fluff #that's not crackfic it's just the 6 underground goofiness

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auxiliarydetective · 4 months

Text

In My ＿ Era

When I saw this prompt for Day Three of the OC New Year's Challenge, I did a little reflecting. Emphasis on "little" because it came to me very quickly:

I am definitely in my...

ONE PIECE Era!

Really, I've created three new One Piece OCs within the last four months alone. It's really fitting, because Luna - the very same Luna I talked about in yesterday's entry - was my first ever proper OC - and also my first One Piece Era/hyperfixation, and I revamped her only recently, Inari joined her sometime during my earlier Tumblr days, upon my second One Piece Era/hyperfixation, and with the arrival of the live action, I was firmly hyperfixated once more and in my One Piece Era, and I haven't left it ever since. So, I present to you all five of my current One Piece OCs, listed from left to right by the time of their creation.

Aether S. Luna, the "guardian angel" of the Straw Hats. Her crystalline shields and large wings have saved the little band of misfits countless times. Having travelled the seas since she can remember, she eventually ends up won by the Foxy Pirates, becoming part of the stakes during their fight against the Straw Hats. Of course, the Straw Hats (mainly Sanji), try their hardest to get her on their crew.

Charlotte Inari, the Straw Hats' lookout and errand girl. The complicated workings of her devil fruits like to toss her around a little, but she's fiercely loyal to her friends. Oh, and she also just so happens to be the daughter of one of the four Emperors of the Sea. Oh well... Surely, that won't cause any trouble.

Akaito Coraline, also known simply as Cora, the Straw Hats' tailor. The only living descendant of a world-famous family of tailors and a childhood friend of Sanji, Cora always carries three things: Her sewing needle, pierced through her ear. A dream to revive her family's legacy, making sure people remember the truth instead of the myths. And a burden on her mind, one that only Sanji seems to know, and neither of them like to share. Also, a crush on both Sanji and Zoro, but she would never admit that, would she?

Felicity, nicknamed Lily, is half human, half fennec fox mink, and honors a great deal of her vulpine ancestry. From being fairly nocturnal to becoming hyperactive (it's the zoomies, according to Usopp), from frequent naps and sleepy phases to a happily wagging, fluffy tail... Though then again, some of her mood swings might also be blamed on her devil fruit, its powers turning her emotions into... something. You never know.

My newest plot bunny, for now simply known as the "Black Widow", who was inspired by my history professor's tangent on the similarities between Ancient Roman patronage and the mafia. She's a spider with an invisible net of connections, her "friends", which include pirates from the old era, warlords, even emperors if you'll believe some sources. The Black Widow generously "adopts" younger, inexperienced or generally weaker pirates, dubbing them her "children" and offering them her protection - in return for some services, of course. Because friendship is a give and take. Some people claim she's incapable of love, some people claim that she's all talk and no game - but fact is that nobody has succeeded in killing her just yet, and her influence on the powers of the world is undeniable. No matter what you need - money, protection, men, weapons, or even a devil fruit - she can get it for you, for the small, small price of your undying loyalty. Those who have broken this vow all found themselves swimming with the fishes one way or another.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄✼▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @supermarine-silvally - let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

#behold! my babies!#one piece #one piece live action #one piece oc #opla oc #oc: aether s luna #oc: charlotte inari #oc: akaito coraline #oc: felicity #onyc23 #fyeahonepieceocs #photopea adventures

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tailing-sun · 4 months

Text

The Transfer Seven (Rainbow High OCs) Bio 5: Renzo Cárdenas

COLOUR: Electric blue

YEAR: Third

GENDER: Male (cis)

FOCUS: Digital Media & Graphic Design

STYLE: Daring. Flashy. Cyber.

QUOTE: “Be the hero of your own adventure.”

BIO: You wouldn’t know it at first glance, what with his slick, ultra-modern sense of fashion and his charisma and confidence, but Renzo is proud to be a geek. He’s been a tech fiend since he was a little kid, and as technology evolves Renzo makes sure to change with it so he’s never out-of-touch. Before his junior year, he was noticed by Rainbow High after one of his indie games won Best In Design in a major online contest. Now learning the skills he needs to start his dream graphics company, his geek pride has only increased. His coolest outfits are inspired by those of video game characters and he even cosplays at school events. He also loves to experiment in designing controllers and consoles, so whenever a fellow gamer wants a new custom fit for their setup, Renzo’s the guy to call.

OTHER:

-He was born in Spain and is 16.

-He’s made up nicknames for the other transfers (“Prima Donna” or “Prima Vera” for Vera, “the Mermaid” for Coral, “SiSi” for Sienna, “Peps” for Pepper, “Mad Hatter” for Aubrey, and “Mags” for Magnolia).

-His fashion sense is inspired by the cyberpunk subculture and old sci-fi movies. Tight spandex in bright colours all the way down, radical shades, and accents so neon blue they glow in the dark.

-The social butterfly of the Transfer Seven, Renzo regularly hosts video game-related hangouts and tournaments at the end of each midterm for students to face each other in fighting games, racing games, party games, etc.

-He loves all kinds of games, from beat ‘em up to RPG, console to PC, triple A to indie, but his favourite type of games are VR.

-The game he designed that landed him a spot at Rainbow High was a racing game called FormulaOne VR.

-He has ADHD, with heavy emphasis on the “hyperactive” part.

-Likes to paint his nails, but can only ever do one at a time before he gets distracted by something else.

-He has a crush on Brianna Dulce.

-He’s part of a healthy gaming rivalry with Zooey Electra and Pinkie James from Shadow High.

-In terms of music, he loves speed rave.

-When texting, expect him to bombard you with memes. (Thanks @sunshine7eyes )

#digital art #rainbow high #oc #rainbow high oc #character bio #character bios #bio #transfer seven

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wehaveimagineshere · 1 month

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I'm here to give you you're first Leon request, but with a twist. Can you write a scenario of Leon and his sibling (who's also an agent) hanging out at a bar and just having a nice time together? If you don't do platonic stuff, you can just ignore this.

This sounds super fun! I've been brainstorming things these two would talk about for days now! I hope you like what I've come up with! And thank you so much for my very first Leon request! <3

~*~*~

You're already half way through your second drink by the time your brother shows up. Even having told him to arrive an hour early, he still manages to keep you waiting. Raising your glass high and giving it a small wave, you watch him weave his way around the tables to the seat beside you at the bar.

"I was wondering if you were just gonna leave me to drink alone," you say in greeting, clinking the ice in your glass for emphasis.

"And have you showing up at my door at 3 in the morning drunk off your ass? Yeah, I don't think so." Placing his order with the barkeep, he swings to face you fully as you grin. "How have you been?"

"Alive," you say with intended casualness, gesturing to your body. "In one piece."

"I hear that."

Taking another sip of your drink, you set it down and tap the rim of the glass with your finger. "Ever wonder if they'll send us on a mission together?"

His face scrunches, and you can't help but roll your eyes. "I work better alone."

You snort. "Y'okay." The barkeep hands off Leon's drink and you study him as he takes a sip. "You used to be all about group projects and people."

"Yeah, well." He shrugs, keeping his gaze trained on his glass. "Life isn't always what we want."

"Yeah," you murmur quietly, letting another few quiet seconds pass before switching gears. "Did you hear mom's finally going to Disney again?"

There's a moment of surprise before his face morphs into disbelief. "No."

"Yeah." Smiling wide, you continue, "Got a call from dad the other week. Looks like our aunts managed to talk her into it."

The smile that creeps its way onto his face makes your own widen. "She's breaking her vow? I never thought I'd see the day. You know what has to happen now?"

"Dad wouldn't tell me when she's going."

"I'm sure there are other ways to find out."

"I've tried our aunts too. They've been sworn to secrecy with threat of bodily harm."

Taking a thoughtful sip of his drink, you can see the thoughts whirring behind his eyes. "Maybe we can hack into her phone."

"You can hack into phones now?" you ask, eyebrows raised.

"Not really, but I'm sure I can ask for some favors."

"You said you work better alone."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

Sighing, you rest your chin on your hand. "We could just...let her have a good time."

The look you two level at each other speaks volumes. There was no way either of you were going to casually let your mother forget the time you two caused such havoc at Disney that she swore she'd never show her face to Mickey Mouse ever again. A broken ride, slippery syrup floors, a crying Goofy. You barely remember any of it, but there were pictures. And recounting. Each family member always had something different to add to the Disney Incident.

Honestly, you should never give two already hyperactive children pounds of sugar and not expect chaos, but what did you know? Your mother definitely didn't.

"So? Any love life?" you ask, frowning when he snorts. "Okay, damn. And same."

There's a comfortable silence as you sip your drinks before Leon says, "I've been thinking of getting fish."

"Fish?" you ask with a laugh. "Okay?"

"I can't have a dog or a cat. Not home enough. But you can get automatic feeders for fish, and they don't really need attention."

"True." You sigh. "Do you ever miss Brownie?"

He leans back with a sigh of his own. "She was a good dog."

"Dad never let us have any pets, did he? Said we were too much like them ourselves." You smirk. "Rude, but true. How did our parents survive us?"

"I try not to think about it."

"Smart." Especially because they could have handed you right back to the orphanage. "Did grandma ever get another dog?"

"No."

"Brownie was too good to replace."

"No pets for you either?"

You snort. "No."

Flicking his wrist and checking the time, Leon sets down his drink. "The shelters should be open for another hour or two."

"What?"

"If we leave now we could get maybe half an hour with them."

Pressing your lips together, you give yourself all of two seconds before you down the rest of your drink like a shot and stand up. "Let's do it."

Following suit, Leon sets his empty glass next to yours, tosses some cash on the bar, and leads the way out.

Time to pet some dogs.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #reader insert #gn reader

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