Welcome, welcome, one and all! Creatures, monsters, great and small! My name's Potato, and this is my little corner of the internet. I'm an amateur artist, writer, animator, and songwriter who uses he/they pronouns. I'm 18. Feel free to have a look around! Profile picture by the lovely KannedSoup. I do a little bit of everything.
I'm hesitant about interacting with users on Tumblr that I don't know from elsewhere. This is because sometimes Tumblr gives me anxiety. I use this blog to yap about my stuff and sometimes reblog a funny thing, nothing more.
I am a system. No, I will not engage regularly in syscourse. If that is what you're here for, please leave. I will assume other systems are traumagenic until told otherwise.
DNI (If you are blocked, one of these things may apply to you):
Darkshippers (and proshippers aligning with darkshippers)
Transphobes
Homophobes
Ableists
Racists
Radqueers
If you just don't like me or are going to hate on me for whatever reason. My time is precious and I don't feel like wasting it.
Extremists of any kind.
People who regularly engage in syscourse
Other links:
Redbubble
Toyhouse
Website (contains story chapters)
YouTube
ComicFury
List of alters (WIP)
Projects & participations (I post about these!):
Of The Weirdest (Book) (receiving shorts)
Constellations Over Us (Book) (receiving shorts)
Wild We Are (Book)
The Fog (Horror-comedy game/visual novel)
All The Broken Hearts (Book)
Redwoods (Warriors fanfiction) (receiving shorts and spinoffs)
Feudal Wings (WoF fanfiction) (receiving shorts)
Esko And The Wild (dystopian short story series)
Stars and Springs (Warriors RP)
Adventures in Aestiomos (DND campaign)
Pine Falls (Private RP with friends)
Rotten Fur (Private RP with friends)
Persona Park (Private RP with friends)
Never Going Home/Now We Know There Are No Angels (Soup's campaign)
That Within The Grass (Private rabbit RP)
I Am Not Your God (Dragon puppet story)
VIO Affairs (Private sci-fi RP)
Battlestations (sci-fi TTRPG campaign led by Trasci)
City Cats (Warrior Cats RP)
Under Changing Tides (Warrior Cats RP)
Colony of the Split Earth (Warrior Cats RP)
The Grass Remembers (Private Warrior Cats RP)
Other blogs:
@nowweknowtherearenoangels
@stars-and-springs-official
Tags:
#👁️ Of The Weirdest - posting about Of The Weirdest
#⭐ Constellations Over Us - posting about Constellations Over Us
#🏕️ Wild We Are - posting about Wild We Are
#🌫️ The Fog - posting about The Fog
#❤️🩹 All The Broken Hearts - posting about All The Broken Hearts
#🌲 Redwoods Fanfic - posting about Redwoods
#👑 Feudal Wings Fanfic - posting about Feudal Wings
#🐻 Esko And The Wild - posting about Esko And The Wild
#🌌 Stars and Springs - posting about Stars and Springs
#🧭 Adventures in Aestiomos - posting about Adventures in Aestiomos
#🔪 Pine Falls - posting about Pine Falls
#🥩 Rotten Fur - posting about Rotten Fur
#🎭 Persona Park - posting about Persona Park
#🪖 Never Going Home - posting about Soup's Never Going Home campaign
#🐰That Within The Grass - posting about That Within The Grass
#🌷 Redwoods spinoffs - posting about Better Than I Was and other Redwoods spinoff comics
John "Soap" MacTavish
It starts with silence. Soap's laughter dies suddenly, his fingers twitching, and his gaze unfocuses like he's staring through you. You recognize the signs-shallow breath, rigid jaw, that haunted stillness he never talks about. You gently kneel beside him, placing your hand over his. "It's me," you whisper, voice soft but grounding. "You're home, Johnny. It's over." At first, he doesn't move- but when your thumb strokes his palm, he shudders and clutches you like a lifeline. Tears come later, quietly, as he hides his face in your shoulder. You hold him until he relaxes, whispering, "I've got you." That night, he sleeps beside you finally resting. Finally safe.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Ghost never lets anyone see it happen-but you. You wake to his trembling, his breath sharp like he's choking on smoke, arms coiled too tight around the sheets. You murmur his name, slowly reaching toward him. "Simon. You're here. You're with me." His eyes snap open-wide, unfocused, hunted. But you don't flinch. You hold his face, steady and patient, letting him feel the warmth of your palms. "You're not there anymore," you whisper. "You're not alone." Eventually, his breathing slows, jaw unclenching as your presence guides him back. He never says thank you-but he pulls you close, burying his face in your neck. And that, from him, says everything.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Gaz tries to hide it with humor, brushing off his panic with a shaky grin and a joke that doesn't land. But you see it the stiffness in his shoulders, the faraway look. "Hey," you say gently, stepping into his space. "You don't have to fake it with me." He laughs weakly, eyes glassy. "Just-flashbacks. Dumb, huh?" You sit beside him and take his hand, squeezing it firmly. "No, it's not dumb. You've been through hell." He leans into your touch, exhaling hard. You wrap your arms around him, grounding him. "I'm here," you whisper. "You're safe." And
slowly, he nods, the tension bleeding out as he rests his forehead to yours.
John Price
Price stiffens mid-conversation, his fingers curling into fists, eyes shadowed by something long buried. He mutters an old call sign under his breath, his jaw clenched tight You approach quietly, speaking his name softly-once, twice. He doesn't answer. So you kneel, place a steady hand on his chest, and whisper, "Breathe with me." It takes time, but eventually, his breathing syncs with yours. He finally looks at you, eyes bloodshot and tired. "Thought I left that behind," he murmurs. "Guess not." You brush his hair back, kiss his temple. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere." That night, he lets you hold him like he's breakable-and you promise to never let go.
Gary "Roach" Sanderson
Roach doesn't scream. He just shuts down- too still, too quiet, like he's somewhere else entirely. You find him curled on the floor, staring blankly at the wall. "Gary?" you say softly, sitting beside him. No response. You begin humming a melody he loves, the same one you always play when you bake. Slowly, his eyes flick toward you. You reach for his hand-he doesn't grip back, but he doesn't pull away either. "Come back to me," you whisper. "Just follow the sound." Minutes pass before he blinks and leans into your shoulder. You wrap him up in a blanket and arms. "You're safe now," you murmur. "I've got you."
Nikolai
Nikolai hides it well-until he doesn't. His voice cracks mid-sentence, and he abruptly walks out, hands shaking. You find him in the garage, pacing like a caged animal. "Go back inside," he warns, eyes wild. You don't You step closer and speak low. "I'm not leaving you." He collapses onto a crate, head in hands, breath ragged. You kneel in front of him, placing a hand on his knee. "It's over, Nik. It's not then. This is now." He exhales a shaky breath, then pulls you into a fierce hug like he's afraid you'll disappear. "You keep me human," he murmurs, holding on like you're the only anchor he has.
Alejandro Vargas
Alejandro's panic comes in waves-rising with pounding steps, clenched fists, and breathless pacing. He mutters orders to ghosts, trying to command the chaos in his mind. "Alejandro," you say gently, stepping into his path. He doesn't see you at first. So you take his hand and press it to your chest. "Feel that? That's real. I'm real." He blinks, trembling, tears forming as he realizes it's you. He sinks into your arms, forehead resting against yours. "Lo siento," he whispers. "It hit me too fast." You hold him tightly, fingers stroking his back." You don't have to apologize. You're allowed to break. I'm here to help you put it back together."
Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra
Rudy gets quiet-too quiet. He stares at the wall, hands wringing, lips moving like he's whispering to ghosts. You kneel beside him, placing a steadying hand on his. "Rudy," you whisper. "Where are you?" He flinches slightly, then shakes his head. "I saw it again. The ambush." You squeeze his hand tighter." But you're here. And you're not alone." Slowly, he leans into you, tears slipping down his cheeks. You let him cry-no rush, no pressure. Just presence. He buries his face in your neck and whispers, "Gracias. For not making me face it alone." You rub his back gently. "Always. Every time it comes for you -I'll be here."
Valeria Garza
Valeria masks everything with fire-snapping at shadows, cursing in Spanish, pacing like a lion. But then the mask cracks. You find her gripping the sink, breath shallow, eyes wide with the weight of memory. "Don't touch me," she growls-but you hear the tremor beneath it. "I won't," you say, voice calm. "Not until you ask." You sit behind her in silence, your presence a quiet offer. Eventually, she collapses into your arms, trembling. "I hate feeling like this," she whispers. "Weak." You hold her tighter. "You're not weak. You're human. And I love every part of you-even this." She clings to you, letting herself break, knowing you'll be there to catch every piece.
Keegan Russ
Keegan freezes in place, eyes locked on something only he can see. His breathing gets fast-shallow. His hand hovers near his holster. You move slowly, voice gentle and grounded." Keegan. It's not happening again. You're safe." At first, he doesn't hear you. You slowly place your hand on his arm, applying just enough pressure to bring him back. His eyes snap to yours-wild, vulnerable, scared. "I-sorry.l thought I was back in that compound," he mumbles. You shake your head. "No need to be sorry. Just come back to me." He nods slowly, then leans forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder. "You're the only one who makes the nightmares quiet."
König
You wake up to heavy breathing and the creak of floorboards. König is in the corner of the room, hunched, massive hands covering his face, muttering in German. You approach carefully. "König," you whisper, kneeling beside him. He flinches, panicked-then recognizes your voice. "It's happening again," he rasps. "I thought the blood was on my hands. "You gently reach up, placing your palm on his chest. "It's not real. You're here. With me." His breathing staggers, then slows. You wrap your arms around his trembling form, pressing your forehead to his. "You're not what happened to you. You're more. You're mine." Slowly, his arms come around you-and he exhales, grounded by your presence.
Nikto
Nikto doesn't scream. His panic is ice, not fire -cold sweat, frozen limbs, eyes that seem to look into another time. You find him sitting in the dark, knees drawn to his chest, shaking hands gripping his mask like it's the only thing holding him together. You don't speak right away. Instead, you sit close and whisper his name. He finally murmurs, "I was back there. In the cell. Again." You gently remove the mask and cradle his face. "But you're not. You're here. With me." He trembles in your arms, whispering your name like a prayer. "You're the only thing that pulls me out." You kiss his forehead." And I always will."
Krueger
Krueger doesn't outwardly panic-he goes utterly still, eyes sharp and distant, like a predator remembering a cage. You spot the signs-the rigid spine, clenched jaw, silent tension. "Krueger," you say softly, stepping into his line of sight. "It's me." His voice is flat when it comes: "The walls were closing in again." You move closer, kneeling until your face is level with his. "But they're not. You're not trapped. You're safe. With me." Your fingers curl around his wrist. He hesitates... then lets you touch him. "Stay," he whispers. "Just for now." You press your forehead against his. "For always." His armor doesn't drop, but you are the one he allows close when it cracks.
Philip Graves
Graves always acts like he has it under control-until the flashbacks hit. You find him gripping the edge of the bathroom sink, knuckles white, shoulders shaking. "Phil," you whisper, stepping behind him. He startles, breathing ragged. "I was back in the desert," he says through clenched teeth. "It felt so real." You gently guide him to sit, crouching beside him. "It's not real. You're here. And I'm here." His hand finds yours, gripping tight. "You make it quiet," he says, eyes glassy. "You pull me out before I drown. "You cradle his face in your hands. "Because I love you. And I won't let the past have you. "He nods, holding on like you're a lifeline.
Farah Karim
Farah's PTSD hits in silence-she clenches her jaw, her eyes go distant, and her body coils Like a spring ready to snap. She doesn't want to worry you, but you see it. You move to her gently, speaking her name softly. "Talk to me, " you say, kneeling in front of her. "Where are you right now?" Her breath is uneven. "They were burning it again the school. I couldn't stop it." You gently take her hands. "That was then. You've saved so many since. And you're here. You're safe. You're loved." Her eyes close, and she leans into your forehead. "You ground me," she whispers. "You remind me why I fight." You hold her until she breathes steady again.
Hadir Karim
Hadir's nightmares aren't always asleep. Sometimes they bleed into the day, gripping his chest, pulling him into memory. You find him staring at nothing, breath shallow. "I did horrible things," he whispers when you approach. "I see it all again. I can't escape it." You sit beside him and take his hand, firm but tender. "You can't change the past. But you can choose today. You've chosen peace. You've chosen me." His hand tightens around yours." But what if I'm still that man?" You shake your head. "You're not. You're the man who holds me when I'm scared. Who plants flowers. Who apologizes. That's who you are now." And that truth, spoken gently, brings him back.
Alex Keller
Alex doesn't like showing weakness, but when the memories hit, he shuts down. He'll sit on the floor, knees up, hoodie pulled over his head like armor. "Alex," you whisper, crouching down beside him. "You don't have to hide from me." His voice is tight, cracked. "It was the kids. I saw their faces again." You gently pull him into your arms, pressing his face to your shoulder." You did what you had to. You've saved so many." He clings to you then, trembling." What if I don't deserve this?" You stroke his back. "You do. Every breath. Every smile. Every moment with me-you've earned it." And slowly, he believes you.
Kate Laswell
Laswell hides it behind her professionalism. But one night, you find her alone in the kitchen, hands shaking around a glass of wine, tears brimming. "I can't stop hearing their voices," she whispers. "The ones I couldn't save." You cross the room, gently taking the glass from her hands before pulling her into a hug. "You've saved more than anyone else ever could," you say. "And even heroes need someone to hold them." She doesn't resist she melts. "I hate that it still gets to me," she murmurs. "Then let me carry some of it," you whisper. "Lean on me.
I can take it." And she does, trusting you with the burden she never shares.
Vladimir Makarov
You don't expect Makarov to panic-not the way others do. But one night, you catch him mid-nightmare, screaming in Russian, drenched in sweat. You touch his arm and he grabs your wrist instinctively, eyes wild. "It's me," you say softly, not pulling away. "You're safe. No one's here but me." Slowly, the fog lifts from his gaze.".... dreamt of the war. Of what I did." His voice is raw, vulnerable. You gently cup his cheek. "You can't outrun it, but you don't have to face it alone." His hand trembles as he rests it over yours. "I don't deserve you. You lean close. "Maybe not. But I'm not going anywhere."
for a while, my husband worked as a call handler for the ambulance service. during his training, they had a talk from someone wanting to introduce new policy and he wanted to use my husband's group as a tester group. fun, right?
well, the talk was about how saying suicide was triggering. if a caller says theyre suicidal, the handlers should say "unalive" instead, because saying the word might actually trigger the suicidal person.
if the caller says they were raped and need help, the handler should say "S A" instead, because rape is triggering.
I don't know about you, but if I phoned up the ambulance service to ask for help because I want to die, I wouldn't want them using tiktok speak and trivialising the issue. I think that would make me less likely to ever ask for help. SAY THE WORDS. how are we supposed to address the problem if we can't even name the fucking problem.
luckily, my husbands main instructor literally said "well, that's fucking stupid" to the man wanting to introduce this policy and it hasn't been implemented. but it might. we are watching language be erased. NAME. THE. PROBLEM.
I wish I were making this up, I wish I could say I was exaggerating. I'm not.
So fun fact, people who are trained in helping to deescalate suicidal people will always say to put it bluntly.
“Do you want to kill yourself?”
A, it has the benefit of making sure everyone is on the same page. Self-harm and attempting suicide are two different things. You can want to harm yourself without wanting to kill yourself. It can also let you know if the person is passively suicidal or if they’re in the process of killing themselves.
B, stigmatizing suicide leads to more suicides.
C, you will not cause someone to kill themselves by saying the word suicide. It is not a magic word that speaking the name of will cause someone to jump off a roof.
Also, speaking to causation on this trend (separate from issues of censorship), lay people need to learn what "triggering" actually means.
Because way too many people do not understand the difference between "This word is an activating reminder for something traumatic in my brain and it has a rapid and deeply negative impact on my mental health which may result in dissociation, flashbacks, spiraling, panic attacks, or similarly serious reactions" and "ewww that word makes me UNCOMFYYYYY."
Character duo where one *remembers I don’t like fitting characters into trope boxes* is a completely fleshed out and realised person *remembers treating characters as real people and not story devices written with intent is bad* who is written by the author and *remembers death of the author* uh. And *fumbles and drops my pile of queue cards* ah fuck wait no *the menacing horse* what was that.
“scientists don’t want you know” is a phrase that always cracks me up because if you actually meet a scientist they will be shaking and crying like an overstimulated chihuahua with the need to let you know
