Your dysfunctional human (?) friend

Hey there! I'm very happy to have you, and I hope you like this blog. This is technically a sideblog; however, I use it much more than my main, so follows and all will come from @TymberLaine. Please take a minute to look at the pinned post, and, if you want to some things about me (pronouns, random facts, etc.), then check out my Carrd under the "About Me" tab.

[sanders-semantics]

please drop the link to the thomas/nico angst fic,, im curious

This is been in my inbox forever, sorry. But yeahh, I don’t even remember what fic that was. Just search for it in Ao3 and you’ll prolly find it there.

Also, guys, I never use this blog anymore lol. I’ve switch over to @can-patton-have-his-candy.

[sanders-semantics]

Patton: Do you ever get the urge to cry lying face down in a river, letting the water wash away the sins of your moral ambiguousness

Roman: Isn't that just drowning?

Patton: I'm already suffocating under the weight of my mistakes. Drowning would be nothing

Roman: *concerned Princey noises*

[sanders-semantics]

Scintilla Masterpost

Ao3! This has extensive tags and Tws, so please take a look there if you are sensitive to things including, but not limited to: physical and psychological torture; gaslighting and brainwashing, unsympathetic Virgil (who believed he was doing the moral thing); sexual assault; graphic self harm and suicidal ideation; depression; discussion of trauma and ptsd.

Virgil wants Patton back. He has no idea where he is, but he knows he's missing. He knows because Patton would never be laughing with Remus as they exchange dirty jokes. Patton would never be dying his hair blue at three in the morning with Roman or having a drinking contest with Logan. He knows Patton, and he knows that this impostor is not him.

He also knows that he hasn't seen Janus in over a week. He knows him just as well.

Desperate to save Patton, Virgil decides to force Janus to reveal himself, no matter what it takes.

1, 2, 3 ,4 ,5, 6, 7...

There are seven chapters so far on A03, and I’m transferring as quickly as possible!

The tags under this post are very general, but each  chapter post will have individual warnings pertaining to that chapter. So, one chapter may have x warning, but not the next. Please tell me if I ever miss anything!

[sanders-semantics]

Scintilla, Chapter One

Chapter-specific TWs: implied torture, implied brainwashing/gaslighting, nonconsensual kiss mention, implied unsympathetic Virgil

Please heed  the overall tags on Ao3 (recommended) and the Masterpost!

The room was as dark as always. Its inky blackness, cold and numb, reached every inch so that he was completely blind, completely helpless. Not that there ever was anything to see. It was always empty, except for the man and Him. The remains of what used to be a lamp lied scattered on the floor.

But the man was used to that by now. He was used to the black. He didn’t like it, not at all, but there was nothing new to it. There was a time when he couldn’t bare to even open his eyes in fear of it, but not now. 

Without Him, there was nothing to fear because He controlled the dark. Without Him, the black was a friend, a shield. It protected him from things he didn’t want to see.

But he could never get used to the silence. It was the sheer quietness in the Room that loved to leave him forever on edge. It was a powerful, all-engulfing quiet that drilled into his head and never left him alone. Sometimes he’d hear voices he knew weren’t there. Or random sounds. Sometimes he’d hear a short scream followed by birds chirping, and he wondered if maybe, just maybe, they were real. But he always realized that they’re not, and that he was nowhere closer to being free.

But even the quiet was nice at first. Welcome, even. It was a break from His voice. He was always loud, always grating, always worming his way into his ears and heart and spine. The man wasn’t sure if He even meant to do it. He doubted it—it must hurt His throat after speaking like that for so long. But the voice never stopped. Even now in the silence it was there, though He was nowhere to be seen.

It was driving him crazy. He knew it was. He wanted out. He wanted his name back.

The man wanted many things, but doubted he will ever get them.

He’d already given up on that.

But more than anything, against it all, he still wanted his name back. The one he has now is fake and bad and evil and dirty and—

He wasn’t actually certain why it was so bad. Why he was so bad. But that was one of the things He said the most. The man had latched onto that fact early on. The other rules had to be laid out for him, as utterly stupid as he was. There were many rules, and they were very helpful. They kept Him happy.

One: his old name was a bad word, and he shouldn’t say it because it’s untruthful and stolen, and stealing is Wrong. The man hates being Wrong. Being Wrong meant getting hurt. He is who he is, and nothing more.

Two: he needed to do whatever He told him to do. If he didn’t, He got mad. Mad was dangerous.

Three: he should always show his scales. Even though the man, deep down, knew they weren’t his, that he had never had scales before. by now they felt like a part of him. They were an aegis he never wanted, but now needed. He  Himself had insisted that he had scales, and He liked to be right, so the man had given himself scales. It was much easier that way. Now they were his.

Five: never ask where the others are or what they were doing. The man could vaguely remember there being others like him. He could almost imagine a living room with a brown couch and nice people that would never hurt him. The one time he did ask, He was furious, and explained that those were false memories. They can’t be his because he wasn’t there, so he had to be lying. He was wrong again.

The man lied a lot nowadays. He knew that it’s bad to, but it also seemed good. It kept him from getting hurt so much, as long as he was convincing. He was awful at it at first, but he got better at it. Now he liked—hated?—loved?—needed?—to think of himself as a master of it. A self-proclaimed Lord of the Lies.

He hated himself for it. He hated himself for being wrong.

He hated himself for being so damn bad.

There were always more rules, but those were the ones he held closest. They were the ones he rattled off to himself in silence, if only to think about something other than the feeling of deadness surrounding him.

That worked for a while.

Not long, though.

Nothing ever worked for long. He knew that well.

He tried to list them aloud once, the rules, but he couldn’t do it. Not when the shadows around him were always threatening to silence him again, just like all those other times. He hated the shadows. They weren’t like the dark; the dark was constant and protective. The shadows were sly and ever-moving, and they were obedient to only Him. And even though his brain screamed that the shadows don’t move without Him there, he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was just too risky.

The man, amid a plethora of supposedly untrue thoughts, was constantly reminded of those shadows.

Shadows twisting around him, holding him down while He worked.

Shadows invading his mouth, as if to scrape the lies from his tongue.

Shadows forcing their way into his dreams, then him waking up in panicked fits because he wasn’t even safe in his sleep when He was near. Then again, sleep wasn’t safe without Him, either.

So, it was more than a relief when, one day, something broke those shadows up.

It was ecstasy.

But it was also dread.

He felt raw terror when the heavy door of the Room swung open, letting in a flood of silver light. He expected to see Him. Usually He’d just appear from the shadows themselves, but he’d come through the door occasionally. No one else ever came, so he had no reason to believe it wasn’t Him.

But soon, a new feeling joined his terror: curiosity. Curiosity because there was only one of Him, and yet there were five people in the doorway.

The first physical thing he felt is pain. A blinding, stabbing pain as the light hit his eyes for the first time in God-knows-when. He gasped, hands flying to his face. He nearly cried out but stopped himself on instinct, instead tilting his head back in a silent scream.

Then there were things moving around him, touching him, that he couldn’t see. And the sound. There was so much sound that it hurt, and it filled his head too fast and he couldn’t process it before the next identical assault.

Every touch he flinched back from  was replaced by two more as memories of shadows flashed through his mind, and he wanted to retch. He felt something warm brush his face, and all he could think about was the disgusting feeling of His lips against his.

His heart pounded in his chest, but none of it stopped. The voices only got louder, the touching more frenzied. He felt himself being lifted up (something he used to want, but not anymore), and he tried to pull away, but he was too weak. Being held tight, too tight, was suffocating. He couldn’t see and his ears hurt and he didn’t want to be touched and he wanted to say something but he couldn’t —wouldn’t— get the words out and he was scared.

He couldn’t breathe, he just couldn’t, and he couldn’t think. He couldn’t lie his way out of this one because he had no idea what they wanted him to do.

Then it stopped.

Not the overwhelming feeling of dying, of course, but he suddenly felt a little more free. Less like he was being buried alive and more like he was in a too-tight sweater. The feeling of being enveloped was still there, but it wasn’t actively trying to hurt him. He wished his brain could get the memo. His thoughts still raced along with those stupid, stupid memories, and they wouldn’t stop.

After a moment he realized that he was back on the cold ground of the room. His eyes finally recovering, he let himself peek through his fingers. The door was open a crack now, just enough to light the room without it hurting his eyes. And there was only one person. Risking a look, his stomach flipped when he saw that it wasn’t Him.

It was someone from the false memories.

But if they were fake, if they were lies, then how was he right here?

Was he making this up? Was this in his head? Maybe he was finally gone crazy.

What if this was all just one of His tricks to show the man how awful he is?

He couldn’t see this new person in detail, but he could block him out, almost like a gesture drawing. Thick glasses, blue tie. Black shirt, worn jeans. Clothes so dark he nearly blended in with the room.

But the man could tell he wasn’t a shadow. Shadows, even when He gave them “eyes,” didn’t gaze at him with compassion. They didn’t scrunch up their forehead trying to get a better look at him. They didn’t need to.

After a long moment, his heart was starting to slow, but it was still pounding, as if preparing itself for what was to come. All the while he was trying to think of this newcomer’s name. But he couldn’t find it, and it frustrated more than anything. Resting his eyes on the tie, he settled on calling him “Blue.”

Blue put a shaky hand towards him. It’s slow, not at all how He would grab him.

Actually, Blue doesn’t grab him at all. He simply hovered, perhaps debating with himself on what to do. Finally, he made a decision. He took a deep breath and retracted his hand.

Watching it leave, the man couldn’t decide if he’s happy or not.

Blue swallowed, a single word leaving his throat. It was  hoarse and scared, and the man couldn’t blame him. It was a bad word, after all.

But Blue, apparently very rebellious, still said it.

“Patton?”

[sryforthewait-blog]

Reblog if you would be devastated if you found out one of your followers committed suicide.

[moject-prayhem]

don’t you dare not reblog!!!!!!

[vo-la-tile]

If you don’t reblog this I’m judging you.

[rainbowandoctavia-deactivated20]

Just one.

[mydeadcarcass]

[nimh13]

[lavender-the-timey-demon-hunter]

[the-last-of-the-forgotten-deact]

[honnouji-acedemist-deactivated2]

NEVER EVER EVER STOP REBLOGGING THIS EVER

[pieisgay]

I solemnly swear I am up to good.

[ask-shadowknight-of-the-stars-d]

*reblogs so fast my finger creates a sonic boom*

[ask-jeremyfitzgerald-fazbea-blog]

[ajlenoire]

I’m reblogging this for two reasons.

One: I would be horrified if one of you lovelies did such a thing, all I’m getting in my head is a cute little duckling that needs to be kept safe.

Two: this is the first and only post I’ve seen with an MLP reaction gif and that in itself, even if this wasn’t a serious issue (which it is) is worthy of a reblog.

I love you all

[vocalgamer360-deactivated201909]

[ask-prince-nightlight-deactivat]

:’(

[dj-c0l7]

to all my followers, i’ve got your back if you ever need to talk

[sea-anon]

I swear to god y’all. Talk to me I’ll try to help

[shitposting-hobbits-to-gallifrey]

Im always here to talk to

[smooththegoofyshark]

I’m here! I’m not great at it but my in box is always open!

[sword-and-nightingale]

I know it can be painful to reach out and talk about it. If you need to talk and it’s just too much, it’s okay. Inbox is open anytime, and when you’re comfortable, we can talk, okay?

[gemsofgenz]

i love all of you????? if you ever need to talk, even if it seems like a small thing, im here

[chemicaaaaaal]

Life can suck, and I know first hand how it can. But, trust me, suicide really won’t help… So please, don’t kill yourself

[awkwardkami]

Love all of you loads! So no matter how hard things may get don’t try to or/and don’t commit suicide. If ANY of you guys ever need someone to talk to then my inbox is always open

[kamijirouz]

I love you guys please know I’ll always support yall. always!

[kyras-dream]

Listen guys, I’m not a therapist or a psychiatrist or anything in that direction, but nonetheless, let me know if something’s bothering you ma’ friend, I’ll help as good as I can! And don’t one of you even dare to commit suicide, I forbid you. Because I care about you. Stay alive guys, it’s worth it <3

[erasethedarkness]

Lately it seems like a lot of us have been needing some love, so please remember that my ask and chat are always open, and I would rather share your pain than endure losing you.

[awesomegoatwolfchild]

[belxnskx]

[wandering-queer]

2020 has been kind of hard for me, I had found out that 1 of my very close friends tried commiting suicide and 1 was scratching themselves very hard to harm themselves. and I was so scared. Please talk to me if you feel bad I’m always here you don’t even have to be a follower of my blog I’m not even kidding I’m here for everyone and anyone who needs help

[hanta-sero-anon-deactivated2020]

seriously love you guys too much to be able to deal with that please don’t hurt yourselves

[sanders-semantics]

Not sure what happened in the mcyt fandom but ya’ll good over there?

[h-el-l-deactivated20200408]

i made one

[warblingwillow]

IVE NEVER RELATED TO ANYTHING MORE

[official-cisphobe]

I rely on text tone notations like /j and /gen and /lh so much but I'm worried they'll fall out of fashion or become something "cringy". I dread the day I first hear "stop using ttn its weird".

yeah honestly, I don't rely on them for tone but they do help a lot of people (me as well on some occasions). I really hope they don't become "cringy" and that more people would use them

[vampireapologist-archive-deacti]

Honestly we really do need to go back to 2000s emo makeup I’m so exhausted with the current perfection trends let’s start bragging about how our eyeliner is going strong on day 3 again

[antique-scarecrow]

Bring back grunge culture so I can just get out of bed and Go

[xxdespairfactionashtonxx]

Bring back punk culture to expose the corruption of authority in our current state of oligarchy.

[reptilian-rapscallion]

Ok I NEED to spread this video it is brilliantly written and acted- I genuinely forgot this was fanmade while watching because it all felt so in character

[thisaccisdead]

Ppl who use it/its pronouns...u are so epic and good ilu..

[heir-of-the-founders]

🥺🥺

[weirdchristmas]

[sanders-semantics]

... Tired Thai Tea

I’m counting the drink because it sounds much better than Thai See Ew

[chaelinsbitch]

Yeah I have tumble friends *likes mutuals post* see we are communicating

[sanders-semantics]

I deadass just spent a good thirty minutes writing an in-depth post that was me reflecting on how I’ve learned so much about race, religion and diversity in the past couple years, and I left for like two minutes and ya know what happened??

Tumblr decided to refresh, and it was lost

I mean I’m still gonna write it, but not tonight, sadly.

[sanders-semantics]

Me Reflecting on Diversity

Every once in a while I just marvel at how unexpectedly diverse my city is (or parts of it, at least). You wouldn’t expect it to be the way it is unless you really looked into history, but is just is. Just by my high school, you can walk to an Vietnamese-run restaurant, a Jamaican food and grocery, a specifically Mexican grocery, a halal butcher, an African market, and an Asian market (that one especially I adore. In fact, just today I was eating one of my favorite snacks from there). Go a little further and you’ll find several halal butchers and eateries and a wealth of Middle Eastern (mostly Lebanese and Israeli) restaurants and groceries.

In the school itself, it’s common to hear Tamil, Spanish, Vietnamese, and more daily, with very few of the speakers being exchange students. I am close friends with Hindus, Buddhists, Atheists, Christians, Jews, Muslims, and various other smaller religions. 

Note that this comes from a white person from a white city, who grew up in the whitest elementary and middle schools you can imagine. As in, I can count the POCs I personally knew on my fingers. Then, in eighth grade, I had to switch schools, and my new school was predominantly Black, with several latinx and Muslim students. 

I went in knowing absolutely nothing about anyone’s culture, and found myself in a kind of switched role: out of the 80 or so eighth grade students, there were exactly five white students including myself (out of this group, btw, one failed the grade, one was expelled, one was universally despised for being a disrespectful person, and one simply caused drama. There was entire fiasco dubbed the “white girl wars” that I was unfortunately a part of that was insane).

It was there that I really started learning about race, white privilege, religious tolerance, immigration, etc. My Social Studies teacher let us all celebrate Kwanzaa with her, which I personally loved because I honestly just don’t like Christmas much. I learned about hijab. I learned basic Black culture that I have come to love and appreciate (but I also try to be careful not to appropriate).  

One thing especially drilled into me was privilege. There was this one kid that called me cracker, white trash bitch, and any combination of things you can think of because I wouldn’t give him my lunch. I didn’t notice it then, but now I realize something: my privilege there was not to be afraid. Never did I feel especially threatened because of my race. This would have been different if it were the f slur, of which I am terrified of hearing and actually fear. But never because of my race. 

I say this all because I wish I had known it sooner. I wish I had grown up surrounded by these amazing, beautiful cultures. I’ve learned more in a few years than I did in 13. My girlfriend is Black, and I’ve been kind of... absorbed into her family? She’s taught me things that I would never have known, such as skin and hair care for poc. I’ve learned vocabulary and now see how often it’s used. I’ve learned how to spot appropriation. Her grandmother attempted to get me to buy weave. I now have regular talks about these issues and am more than willing to fight tooth and nail for them. I’m still learning, and I always will be, but I’m so glad this happened at a relatively early age, rather than as an adult, because everything so far has been nothing but amazing..

[embodiedfutures]

Black is not a dirty word.

Click here for 200+ free social justice and mental health resources. Follow @bfpnola for more!

And please remember, Black is good is a radical concept, but radical concepts are what create change. Keep fighting.

[cipherscriptures-deactivated202]

yall freaking out about Virgil like there isn’t another motherfucker that wears eyeshadow