So I realised i forgot to do like an introduction post so here it is!
Hi! My name’s Sydney I’m gender fluid but I prefer to use they/he pronouns! I love cats and never sleep. This account is for me to ramble about all my fav micro fandoms.
I support: 🏳️⚧️🏳️🌈🇵🇸 (dni if your against)
17 (any age can follow/interact if it’s for fandom stuff)
Fandoms I’m in/stuff I love
• the shadowhunter chronicles
• heartstopper
• cafea latte/heart of iron/ anything c.m.aloungi
• malevolent (podcast)
• camp here and there (podcast)
• in memoriam by Alice Winn
• books
• the crane wives
• Sparkbird
• Saiki K
• The owl house
• Infinity train
• Steven universe
• Sk8 the infinity
• the Casteline chronicles (is that how u spell it? Idk) /sword catcher
• scavengers reign
• project Hail Mary (movie&book)
Otp: Herongraystairs, Malec, KitTy, whatever the ship name is for J.C and Nicole, Narlie
I miss when ads were a single click and then they’re gone. Now every ad has a minimum of three phases where you watch a video, exit the still frame of fake gameplay, and then exit the app download. That doesn’t even touch on the ones that forcibly take you to another app after opening a tab in safari without you ever touching the screen.
I hate advertising. I hate that you can’t do anything without companies jumping down your throat with mostly bullshit ads. I hate that billboards exist. I hate that every company unanimously decided to make their ads longer and longer. I hate that ad blockers try to charge you money and there are in app purchases to remove ads. I hate that my attention has become commodified. I hate that there’s nothing I can do about it.
grace is kept in a clear, airtight container filled with a completely different environment with a carefully maintained life-support system that, should it fail, he will quickly die.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
I taste colors and see sounds and I was walking my pet cactus the other day and she says you should give us ur teeth. For science definitely not for decorating or anything. But I was eating a boot and I decided that the dirt is yea idk it's dirt
But regardless teeth? Or do you still require them because I can have some lovely wooden ones made for you as compensation!
This reminded me I need to water my pet cactus, cheers
washing dishes is evil because you go "oh fuck there's so many dishes this is gonna take foreverrr" and then you enter the dish abyss and emerge with your abdomen somehow covered in water and your hands all wrinky and then you look at the clock and what felt like half an hour was actually 10 minutes
kinda tired of non binary being tied to skinny androgyny that's mostly white. I say that's as a non binary transmasc/boy thing who's fat and black.
being non binary can look like anything and anyone but especially individuals who have different body types outside of thin. they can have body/facial hair too. show up for all enbies.
let’s be real the pressure to use AI as an adult is exactly what they said the pressure the do drugs as a teenager would be like but the people that told us that caved immediately for the AI and definitely did not just say no
maybe usa politics would be less corrupt if we took the alec lightwood route and elected a 23 year old gay man with a 400 year old eccentric wizard husband and two adopted children ( one is blue mini wizard and one is a war orphan )
Title: STALKED
Themes: Horror. Being followed, supernatural stuff, death
Wordcount: 1,237
[I realised that I talk about my writing on here, yet I've never share it. So here you go! I hope you all enjoy!]
You walk through a darkened forest, the narrow path only illuminated by the dim moonlight that trickles in between the trees. You are not alone. It's a fact. One that you're not sure what to do with yet. But you know this as surely as you know grass is green and that the sky is blue during the day.
You're unsure what's following you. And don't want to. Your mind races with possibilities. It might be another person, an animal, or… something else.
You pray to a god that you don't believe in, that it's not something else.
Because you have no idea what you would do if it were.
You continue down the beaten, barely illuminated path. Each crunch of leaves under your careful footsteps makes you wince. Tall twisting trees cover the trail; you whack the branches that reach out to grab you out of the way. Above, through the dense canopy, stars glimmer and, the moon casts uneasy shadows across the land. It's almost peaceful.
Almost.
The deafening silence makes a shiver run up your back. It's too quiet for it to be normal. You remember reading somewhere that if a forest goes silent, there is a predator nearby, and to get to shelter as soon as you can. Or maybe you didn't read it, and your mother told you? Or another relative?
Shaking your head, you attempt to push it out of your mind. No reason to dwell on it. There isn't a predator in these woods; whilst there might be the occasional fox or such animal, though; they aren't predators to humans. You're perfectly fine, you only need to keep walking. Right…? As long as you move, you'll be alright. The woods are safe at night. You've done this walk many times that the path is as familiar as standing up.
But just to check, you stop.
It stops too. A few seconds later than you do. The sound of its feet (or claws, or hooves) on the ground is quiet, but not silent. And you hear its feather-light inhale behind you. That. Is. Not. A. Fox.
Ok, ok, ok… You can deal with this. It's not a human, and it's not an animal, yet that doesn't mean anything at all yet. It could be friendly, and it might not hurt you. You have no way of confirming that though. Calling out to it is a bad idea, and you're not stupid enough to attempt that. You think for a moment and continue down the path again. Attempting to put some distance between you and it.
You walk deeper into the forest.
You keep walking….
And so does it.
Each step you take, it also takes. Now that you're familiar with its game, you're able to hear that it's trying to sync its steps with yours. Bile rises in your throat, and you desperately swallow it down. Your mouth is as dry as a desert, and your tongue is sandpaper. Your body feels as if you've plunged into a cold-pool. You can't stop walking. Not now. You're a mouse in a mouse trap, or a fly on one of those sticky fly traps. Or at least, that's how it feels. Panic courses through your veins like venom, seeping into every cell, neuron, and organ.
You speed up incrementally, slow and steady, as not to alert it that you're aware it's there. Your heart tries to claw its out of your chest; blood rushes through your ears, drowning out the rest of the world's sounds.
You understand that you shouldn't run; it's not a rational thing to do. It's dangerous. That doesn't matter. You are beyond rational thinking at this point. So, you take off down the path.
You run harder than you've ever have before. Not caring about what will happen anymore, you need to get out of there. You'd do anything to get out of there. Your feet hit the ground, leaving muddy craters in your wake. And branches attack all of your exposed skin, leaving you with a littering of small bruises and cuts.
The thing behind follows.
It doesn't quite match your pace this time. At least, you don't think it does. Its footsteps are out of sync with yours… and it might be faster? No, it is faster.
You speed up again. Pushing yourself to move even quicker. Everything in you screams at you to stop; that you're in danger and that this isn't going to help. You won't stop running. It's not an option.
But blindly dashing through a forest in the dark wasn't your smartest idea. And no matter how fast you dash, it's impossible. You trip a few times, never falling right over. It slows you down a considerable amount: you don't let that stop you.
You sprint.
You keep moving.
The creature's hot, sticky, blood-filled breath is on your neck.
It's only centimetres behind you, and closes in on you every second. It's swifter than any human, hell, it's faster than any animal or creature that you know about. A guttural scream breaks from your lips as you call out for anyone to help you. To come and save you. Because you need saving, you don't want to die out here alone. You hope that someone hears your pleas.
No one does. No one ever will.
Claws sharp as blades rip into your back; you stumble, but avoid falling flat on the floor. This creature isn't playing games anymore; it launches itself through the air at you. Those claws anchor into your skin, grip tighter than a newborn baby's. Your vocal cords strain as you scream, louder even than before.
Then, you come face to face with dirt. You cough up twigs, mud… and maybe a little blood. There's a coppery taste in your mouth, and a dislodged tooth presses into your gums.
As force your body to roll over to your side, those claws connect with your skin again. They go in, and then out. Multiple times. Over and over, and over again. Until all you can feel is white-hot pain. You can't think straight through the pain, your judgement hazy at best. Despite the pain, you try to move anyway. First your head, when that's too hard you try your fingers. It's no luck. Your fingers don't even twitch. You can't even move your neck enough to get a glimpse of the creature; you can't see anything besides its claws. Your body's stiff as a statue yet unpliable as jelly. Your whole body has given up on you; there is no way for you to scream or call out for help. Not even a whimper leaves your lips, your tongue feels heavy and useless. You continue to lie there, making friends with the dirt and foliage under you.
Dark spots dance in your vision as the pain becomes all-consuming. The creature - the beast - snarls, before digging into you like a fresh meal. Which isn't all too incorrect. You're a fish, now caught… and being devoured alive.
Your vision fails slower than you expected. You wish you'd finally die, rather than having this dragged out. Feeling each limb being ripped off your body, each crunch of bone, and each chunk of flesh that's wrapped away from you. Ever so… so… so… gradually, consciousness starts to fade.
The last thought you have is an innate wish that you hadn't come into the forest alone-
