And when you post your work online, you come back 3 months later, spot a bunch of mistakes, cringe internally but are too scared of deleting it because 'what if someone's seen it? they'll get confused if i delete it' and also 'for the sake of progress' and that shitty work haunts you for the next 5 days
'how long until safe?' Chapter 1—'smoke in the garden' (cont.)
There she was again, waking up in the ocean, drowning away. Dream had probably thrown her there. How was she still alive? She swam, swam, and swam until she reached Logstedshire, her makeshift home. Except it wasn't there anymore, and Dream had blown it up. Her only home during exile... it was gone. And Ghostbur wasn't there to give Sophie his normal gifts. She had loved the compass he gave her a few months earlier...
She had gotten violent with Dream, and he had demanded that she give him her things. She had refused, and then Dream swung his axe straight at her skull. She could remember clearly her final moments, and she was sure to be dead. A sickening crunch, the metallic smell of crimson blood, a fall to the soft-smelling grass, and her hand instinctively clutching poppy flowers, just to make herself feel better before she died.
Well, until she woke up. Again
Water rushed into her lungs, as she swam, reaching for an impossible surface and grabbing fistfuls of nothing.
Her days would loop back like this, on and on and on... She'd expected Logstedshire not to be there, and her items to be handed over to Dream—including her prized sword—so there was nothing to be scared of. She would've run at the sight of Dream, but she calmly accepted her fate and let it happen. Death was an old friend to her now, and she welcomed it with open arms.
She could still see her present home, and Techno, and see his lips moving, but she couldn't make out a single word or hear anything. All there was was this buzzing of the past that refused to let her escape unscathed, like a mosquito intent on making her life a miserable wreck. "Hello?" Techno called, but Sophie didn't hear anything.
"You in there?" Techno shouted. No use. This was one of those days. Sophie was kneeling, head in her hands, tears streaming down her face in a strangled, muffled sob, rocking about. She could feel her knees on the gravel, that same smell of slightly burnt grass, like in Logstedshire. The smell of smoke that had followed her everywhere since the incident, even here. If only Techno hadn't asked that question. This was plain embarrassing.
"Make it stop, make it stop..." she whispered, but to no avail. Shame flooded her eyes. She was certainly overreacting, like Dream had said many a time before. What was wrong with her? She asked herself, standing up again on her struggling feet and taking deep breaths. That didn't help at all. The damage had already been done. There was no turning back. This was a situation that required either Philza or Dream. But Techno didn't know who. Phil could calm her, but Dream could make her feel...
Sophie could feel the poppy flower again. First, it was red without blood. Then, she tore away the wet petals, which had since turned a richer, deeper red, realizing they were blood. Why couldn't she move? Why couldn't she get out? She needed to escape-
She stumbled forward suddenly, reaching out—not for Techno, but for the ghost of something that wasn’t there. Her hand clenched. 'Don’t take it from me,' she whispered, more to Dream than to Techno. Her breathing hitched. The petals were sticking to her palm again. She felt blood, even though there was none.
“You were always too much trouble.” The voice wasn’t Techno’s. But her brain made it sound like his. And that was worse. She felt blind, her legs weak from the crying. The sharp edge of a disc, the green and silver flash, the little patterns—it was all so vivid. Was it... Mellohi? It was pulled away, and in an instant, Dream raised his axe again. Sophie knew this dance all too well, but she let him lead, for she didn't know how to. Or she never felt safe enough to.
Sophie flinched again. “I’m not—I didn’t mean—” Her voice broke. She covered her mouth. She needed to run. She couldn’t run. Her chest hurt. The poppy was still in her hand. She hadn’t even picked it up this time. She didn't even pick up anything. What was happening? How could she get out of this horrifying loop? "Please," she begged, to another someone who wasn't there, in another imagined scenario of hers. Her knees hit the gravel again, hard. She didn’t feel it. Not really. Her ears were ringing too loudly to hear anything, but maybe someone called her name? Maybe someone grabbed her shoulders? Her eyes darted wildly, unfocused, searching for the axe, for the disc, for Dream. For a hand to hold. And if Techno said anything just then, maybe she’d finally hear it. Maybe not as Dream’s voice, but as his own.
Techno watched his sister carefully, his mind racing, and a pit forming in his gut. She was mumbling something, but he could hardly hear a thing she was saying. She was... crying? Why was she on the ground? What was wrong with her? "Sophie.." He whispered, his hand reaching for her, his hand falling just short of her shoulders. What the hell was he doing? He wasn't good at comforting people, but something was wrong with the girl. He took a deep breath before crouching down to her level.
"Get away from me," her hands flailed, swatting Techno's arm away. She didn't see Techno for who he really was. Her thoughts were all muddled, and there was only a man in a neon green hoodie and a too-wide smile. There was only the stolen axe and disc. There was only Dream. "Please! No!" Her voice cracked from the sobs, fighting with some invisible force. Only then did Techno see the extent of the damage. There was no turning back.
'how long until safe?' Chapter 1—'smoke in the garden'
CW: PTSD, violence, dissociation, exile
Sophie had some issues after coming back from exile. Nobody knew what she’d gone through; she didn’t speak about it. She barely spoke at all. When she did, it was in quiet, single-word answers. Nobody mentioned the change—whether out of fear, politeness, or the unspoken agreement that some things were better left untouched.
Techno felt like he was losing his mind. Was no one going to question it? Was she really going to keep pretending everything was fine when it so clearly wasn’t? His sister moved like a machine now, distant and precise, and it unsettled him. He needed answers. Every time he asked, he was brushed off. Even Philza wouldn’t talk.
So, he took it to the person he knew who knew what happened to Sophie during exile. He started off trying to sugarcoat it at first, something foreign to him. But he knew this was a delicate situation. He had brought his sister to the garden of their house, hoping it'd make her more at ease if he was in a familiar, calm place.
"So… How was your time in exile and all?" God, it sounded so insensitive, making Techno quietly curse himself for making it seem like Sophie had come back from some vacation trip.
"I know…" He had to pause, thinking of his next words carefully, "I know it was difficult and all there… We didn't— Didn't visit you like we should've. 'M sorry for that. I really am" He sighed, hoping the apology would get Sophie to ease up.
Blue flashed across the back of the girl's already wintry eyes, covering her vision. But then she blinked, staring ahead as they walked, eyes unfocused. Techno shoved his hands into his pockets, jaw tight. Say something. Anything.
He didn’t decide to move. He just did. One second they were walking; the next, Sophie was slammed against a tree. The forest fell silent. Techno’s hand was at her throat—not squeezing, just there. His heart pounded in his ears.
"Quit staring and just- Say something!" He yelled, his ears twitching a little as he stared at his sister. She didn't even flinch, just stared, wide-eyed. He watched her eyes go to the hand holding him up, then back to him. Techno eventually dropped Sophie, silently staring at her, debating what he had just done.
Sophie seemed used to being treated this way. Being slammed against a tree and all that. Having her own brother be violent with her. Hell, she probably thought she was being betrayed by everyone or something, because none of them, except Ghostbur, visited her regularly in exile. She thought she'd been forgotten, abandoned by even her family. And now— now, since Wilbur's revival, she felt like she'd lost him too, because he was absolutely insane. An explosive madman who liked to blow things up and burn them down. This world was crazy.
Since the exile, Sophie had turned into a judge. She would raise her eyebrows when Techno did something stupid, as usual, but she never commented on it. And she didn't flinch at his bloodthirsty tendencies stemming from the voices in his head how she used to, either. Why didn't her eyes light up or darken the way they usually did anymore? Was she hiding?
You, a Serial Killer, walk into the room, searching for table 13. Then you see a person in casual clothes and bags under their eyes... perusing? an online article? No, that was a pencil they were holding. No, not again... the other writers were insane enough, all coming from someplace called BookTok with horny romanticisms of your work.
"Hey... You must be the Downtown Dentist. I'm a fan of your work." You knew it... "Tell me, what's the best way to kill? Doing it for this new story. I need an accuracy check—I don't want serial killer readers and doctors to start complaining."
Uh-huh. Sure. You avoid the question altogether. "How would I know? And no, I'm not the Downtown Dentist," you grit your teeth, the words all too familiar to you.
"Is it going to be adult work?" came the add-on instinctively as you cringed, bracing yourself for the answer to come. You were so disgusted by now that you didn't care if this person knew you were a serial killer. You feared writers. They were the buzzkills around here.
"Profanity, yes, violence yes, the sixty-nine? No. Unless it involves murder. I like having killers with absolutely irresistible charm, leaving their victim hopelessly in love... and when the time comes—"
"Ah, yes... yes, such premeditated murders exist. But, pray tell, is this one of those stories where the serial killer finally falls in love, hates himself for it, and murders his lover? Because trust me, I'm getting bored of those."
The writer jots down what looks suspiciously like 'His eyes darkened. I could see the lies that came so naturally to him. Perhaps I should go, lest I be the next victim. But his gaze bored into me like crimson-streaked obsidian, pulling me further into his arms.'
"You like writing in the first person?" You ask.
"I like my writing intimate." The pencil continued scribbling and scratching out whatever progress they'd made. "Distance is boring. If I write in third-person, the suspense will clear up too easily. And that must not happen."
There was a determination in their voice that I couldn't quite understand. "And yes, the first person—it lies and twists the truth into what the narrator wants to believe. That is what makes it mysterious." The writer raises their hands and wiggles their fingers dramatically. You flinch.
"See, I've got some business to do, so I think we should start ordering." You attempt to change the subject, feeling the little pouch of powder in your pocket. Old habits. Just in case the restaurant had no salt, you plan on telling them.
Literally gonna start sobbing don't do me like this 😭😭😭 I love an appreciate you too, friend 🥹🫶
I gotta call out my beloved mooties 💜 @chancloud8, @brbwritingfanfic, @lazyfacecowboy, @thatgirlangelb, @sh0dor1, thank you all for talking to me and letting me yap and supporting me so much all the time 🥹 You make my world a brighter place, and I'm so glad to know you 💜💜💜💜💜
@abovethemoon333 @morairtea221 @identitycroissant-tm @rosemelodyshah @oxythemoronisback-deactivated20 @apazwtsn @dragonoftheshadows @i-eat-rusty-nails @br35ch @do--not--you-dare and all the other moots of mine i forgot the names of <3
@shenanigan42 @pixelchasm @mokabom @justcallmedom31 @thesightofthestarsmakemesmile @the-holy-ghost-offical @sentientbisexualflag @slowwalkingbisexualgirl @southasiandisaster @coquette-corpsie @cranberry-branflakes @im-on-earth-dipshit @im-the-dead-girl-in-the-pool @auddieee @ash-cherryblossom @a-dam-tris-prior-fan @do--not--you-dare (i know u just tagged me but u deserve extra love coz ur amazing and ty for the spamlikes)
in winter’s hush she learns the price of light,
a world too sharp for hands that learned to shake;
the pines breathe slow, their shadows soft with night,
yet every rhythm feels a step she’ll break.
the embers hum of warmth she used to know,
the strings recall a home she once could trust;
but echoes twist, and truth begins to slow—
a whispered word falls heavy into dust.
one misheard vow becomes a sharpened blade,
one glance becomes a fracture in the thread;
a bond once strong turns fragile, frayed, afraid,
as mercy’s axe hangs trembling overhead.
and so her story starts where silence bends:
with hope half-frozen, and a world that ends.
Whimsical and very easily enthused and wheeeeee and artsy but also shit tons of mood swings lord help :'3
(this is literally just me having fun with the design ahahahahahahha I love this picrew OHMYGOSH)
MOOTS HOLY SHIT THIS ONE'S SO COOL @enbyphoenix10 @no-one-offical @justcallmedom31 @shenanigan42 @will-soos @gl1tzygl0ck @do--not--you-dare @lovely-mosspatch @not-so-local-lesbian @princessnymphae @avhira @skeletal-spire-man-aka-overfit @bowtoyourqueenpeasant + all of y'all I forgot to tag aaaaaa +open tags holy shitttttttt this picrew is gorgeous
why is everyone's stuff so born-of-whimsy vibes and i'm just an author who lives on angst and romanticizes it too much while dumping ideas onto quotev at 2 am (also, im writing a sorta-self-insert-with-OC-dsmp-fic, will post on this blog shortly! its always on wip status)
New Zealand blocked puberty blockers, so them people took to the streets.
DNI TRANSPHOBES, HOMOPHOBES, OR LGBT+ PHOBES IN GENERAL
According to the Guardian:
"New Zealand has announced it is banning new prescriptions of puberty-blocking drugs for young transgender people, in a move that critics warned could worsen the mental health of those affected.
[...]
"The health minister, Simeon Brown, said doctors would no longer be able to prescribe gonadotropin-releasing hormone analogues for gender dysphoria or incongruence to those seeking treatment for the conditions and not already on the drugs.
The decision resulted from a health ministry finding of a lack of “high-quality evidence that demonstrates the benefits or risks”, Brown added in a statement.
The ban takes effect from 19 December."
Click below to sign. My reasons are below the line.
Dear Minister Simeon Brown
We write to you as transgender and takatāpui young people of Aotearoa New Zealand to ask you to reconsider your
Puberty blockers are reversible. Puberty is not.
Puberty blockers simply put a pause on puberty. It doesn't prevent it altogether, and after the trans individual goes off the blockers, puberty continues as normal.
Trans teens usually go off puberty blockers after HRT. Therefore, they can have the "right" puberty and feel less gender dysphoric.
Removing a reversible option forces irreversible puberty on young people who may not want it. When teens experience the "wrong" puberty, this may exacerbate gender dysphoria and damage their well-being, potentially leading to mental disorders or even su!c!de.
Even people who aren’t deeply familiar with trans issues understand: taking away a safety measure from distressed teens is cruel.
The figures: 77% of trans teens are distressed or feel uncomfortable, while that number is only 12% for the general population. Puberty blockers help with teens' well-being 95% of the time.
The sheer discrimination.
If puberty blockers are 'unsafe', why allow it for cisgender kids going through early puberty? If puberty blockers are 'too risky', why allow it for cancer or endometric diseases?
The problem here clearly isn't about 'safety', it's about restricting a specific group of people. Policies that disproportionately target one identity group meet widely accepted definitions of discriminatory effect.
Cisgenders are trusted with the medication. Transgenders are not. Not because it's too risky, because of who they are. This creates a harmful double standard in medical healthcare.
This ban is based on ideology, not safety.
This is a purely ideological decision. Almost all major health organizations are against the ban—New Zealand’s own endocrinologists, pediatricians, psychologists, and medical associations overwhelmingly oppose it. When politicians override experts, the issue is not about safety or medical treatment. It is about advancing an ideology.
When evidence is selective ignored (for example, compare the numbers in reason #1 with the quote from the health ministry in the article excerpt), it reveals bias.
The government cites uncertainty while researchers, time and time again, have revealed puberty blockers to be best-practice medication. Selective skepticism is ideological skepticism.
turnnoffyourmind
ellievsbear
snowghoul
blakekathryn
gracieabrams
amandla
