something quiet

anonymous asked:

Genderbent au

I have no idea but I know for sure it’s some sort of romcom where beautiful high powered businesswoman Victoria goes to a farmer’s market or something and sees soft, quiet Yuri like, selling soaps or handknit sweaters and with a toy poodle in a basket at her booth that says FREE PETS or FREE POODLE KISSES on the side of the basket.

and Victoria freezes in place and all she can think, looking at this girl wearing a genuinely hideous windbreaker and muddy boots is “oh no I’m real gay”

The Winter Baby

“Ma…. Mary Lou… She took in a baby one day.” Credence whispered, tears clinging to his lashes as he whispered something soft and quiet, like a confession, a plea for absolution. “It was so tiny, I think it was sick too… But the baby was… So beautiful… It died that winter, but I was the one to take care of it.” The boy tucked his face against Percival’s neck and he shuddered. “I wanted to be it’s mama… I was… I was so happy taking care of it. Even when it cried at night because it was sick or hungry. I was so happy and I loved it so much… Even though it died only a couple of months later… I want… Daddy, I want…” The words still struggled to press past Credence’s lips as the boy looked up at Graves.

anonymous asked:

Sunny...? What's... What happened?

FELLY WENT BACK TO HIS TIMELINE BECAUSE HIS PAPYRUS SAID EVERYONE WAS OKAY

AND NOW HE’S KEEPING HIM THERE.

HE LEFT HIS PHONE AT HIS HOUSE AND APPARENTLY HE DID SOMETHING TO MAKE HIM QUIET AND I REALLY DON’T LIKE THE SOUND OF THAT BECAUSE FELLY IS NOT A QUIET PERSON

I WENT TO THE BLEAKFALLS TRAINING ROOM TO LET OFF SOME STEAM.

I UM.

KIND OF MADE A MESS.

… AND REMEMBERED HOW TO SUMMON MY BLASTER.

there is a deep suffering in your bones,
a clawing ache in your chest.
it’s a kind of un-becoming—
like heartstrings unthreading themselves,
like a faded whisper that never makes it
past your trembling lips.

and you can’t help but feel that
there is something strangely familiar
in the art of disappearing.
—  you’re a natural | m.a.w

I NEED TO STOP WRITING ABOUT THIS LIKE IT WAS YOUR FAULT, LIKE WE WEREN’T YOUNG AND STUPID AND IT WASN’T ALWAYS ME CRAWLING AFTER YOU. I ALWAYS FOUND COMFORT IN THE WAKE OF A STORM, IN CITIES LEFT RUINED. THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT THE QUIET THAT KEEPS ME FOLLOWING HURRICANES. YOU ARE NOT TO BLAME FOR HURTING ME, I DID THIS TO MYSELF, I DID THIS TO MYSELF.

(I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELF)

—  let me back in, you’re the only place i call home - sarah kate o.

i don’t have time for people whose response to other fans criticizing the content they’re watching is “go watch another show”

especially when fans are rightly commenting on the quality of the writing, animation, pacing, and execution of a show. no show is exempt for criticism, not even if it’s your favorite

everything is awful right now, but please don’t give up hope. we are not alone.

i know this is hard for a lot of us but not everyone is a fighter and that’s ok.
if your heart is soft and kind, that is a gift. don’t let the harshness of the world harden it. protect it. nurture it. kindness will allow us to heal when the fight is over.
in the days to come we will need the caring hearts just as much as the warriors. the growers as much as the destroyers, and the places of quiet to retreat to to help us build something better than what is.

so protect each other, heal together. create safety around yourselves and resist the tide of cruelty that will come.
be strong, be safe. I love you.

“I realised something,” she says in quiet disbelief.

“What’s that?” Her best friend asks in reply.

“Home isn’t four walls and a roof. It isn’t two hands and a heartbeat. It’s all of that and none of it.”

Her friend frowns, “Explain.”

“Home is the sound of your best friend’s laughter at three o'clock in the morning after she’s been crying since midnight. Home is riding in the car with the windows down in the middle of the day during autumn. Home is your favourite song, your favourite book. Home is seeing your mom cooking breakfast in her pjs after you’ve stayed up all night talking. Home is when you see your brother finally make that homerun even if you don’t care for sports. Home is the little things; the things you might not remember a year from then, but they matter. They’re the most important moments because when they all come together under a roof filled with terrible singing and laughing and food, you know in your heart you don’t want to be anywhere else.”

—  adrian d epps // Home
aph norway is a dork

but i love him. and here’s why;

  • says “beep beep beep” out loud when dialing the phone
  • calls people to tell them something he found interesting, then just hangs up instead of explaining anything
  • fights with iceland over mackerel
  • his hair clip is actually a cell phone
  • he doesn’t like to have his picture taken 
  • he seems to be excited for christmas
  • probably rly good at chess considering his record against denmark
  • brings Yoggi (yogurt juice from Sweden) for ice when there’s alcohol so ice has something to drink, too
  • v quiet 
  • calls people (denmark) annoying quite often
  • likes to celebrate the halfway point between he and ice’s birthdays
  • says he won’t offer any of his cake to den after den criticizes his diet
  • likes to bake
  • not good with strangers
  • estonia’s eagerness to join the nordics scares him
  • bonds with england over magical creatures
  • likes stuffed pink bunnies
  • carried a drunk denmark home when he fell out of his chair at a restaurant
  • overprotective big brother toward ice
  • “i’m out of butter, i wonder how i will survive christmas”
  • talks to his magic friends, even tho to everyone else it looks like he’s talking to himself or thin air
  • sort of aloof
  • “you’re gettin’ excited about ice and snow? what are you, a dog?”
  • too preoccupied with the dirt under his nails to watch den and sve’s fight
  • puts others needs before his own

anyways, he’s a nerd and i love him a whole lot. thanks for reading

Thoughts on Quiet BPD

When asked about BPD, most people who know about this disorder immediately think of the “classic” symptoms: impulsive behaviors and episodes of rage. The same holds true for even mental health professionals.

But rage and impulsivity are only two out of the nine criteria in determining whether someone has BPD. Some people with BPD—myself included—meet the criteria for a diagnosis but do not use these “acting out behaviors.”

So what does it mean to have quiet BPD?

You probably still suffer from extreme mood swings and emotional reactivity, self-harm and suicidal ideation, chronic feelings of emptiness, paranoid ideation, dissociation, a lack of identity, and the intense fear of abandonment we love so very much (disclaimer: we hate it.).

And it may well be that your relationships are stormy as well—even if the other person has no freaking idea how distressing said friendship is to you.


How is that possible? Well, we feel the same things other people with BPD feel: we idealize you and become deeply emotionally attached to you, then suddenly we become emotionally cold and distant toward you over just a minor disappointment, we’re kept awake at night by paranoia that you secretly hate us because you didn’t text us back immediately, we spiral into crushing depression over the littlest things you say and do.

But the difference lies in how we express it.

With “classic” BPD you may tell the other person what you’re feeling. You may accuse the person of lying to you, avoiding you, abandoning you, etc. You may display anger toward the other person or get into arguments. The other person becomes aware of what you’re thinking and feeling. Not so with quiet BPD.

I almost never tell my friends what’s going through my mind unless they ask. I’m too terrified of being a burden to them. I internalize this tempest of dysphoria, letting it fester for weeks and months. I will drop off your radar, distancing myself from you without you even noticing. Unless you reach out to me, you’ll never hear from me again. I’ll isolate myself, forever convinced you hate me and that you’re better off not dealing with my burdensome self… even if there’s no evidence to suggest this. Even if we’ve literally been best friends for years.

You may not notice this shift at all, simply because I don’t express it. The friendship may not be distressing for you, but it’s sure as hell distressing for me. I’ve cycled through so many friendships in this way, in near constant agony as a result—and the vast majority of my friends had no idea.

I’m obsessed over this idea that I’m a burden. That my very existence is an annoyance to everyone, and so I very frequently deny myself the very emotion so often associated with BPD: anger.

I loathe myself so much I feel I don’t have the right to be angry for myself.

Sure, I can feel anger all right. If you slight a friend or family member of mine, I cannot begin to describe the rage that wells up inside me.

But if you insult me? I’ll sink to depression and probably agree with you (this has happened multiple times).

People with different types of BPD respond differently to the same triggers. For some, if they feel you’re going to abandon them or that you don’t care about them, they respond with anger. Others act impulsively in hopes of relieving some of their pain. But I respond by turning inward. I justify these “signs” that everyone in my life hates me—the same signs recognized by people with “classic” BPD—by deciding that if I’m going to be abandoned, well, it’s because I deserve to be. If you do hate me, it’s because I am, in fact, absolute scum. My BPD takes these signs and twists them into reinforcement of my extreme self-loathing. If anything, I’ll be angry with myself.

This translates into “acting in” behaviors that aren’t as obvious as impulsive behaviors. I self-harm and don’t tell a soul about it, I lock myself in my room and cry for hours, I become so emotionally numb I just stare at the wall all day, I’ll sleep for an entire weekend to escape my pain, I’ll even deny myself food because what’s the point of extending my lifespan, especially if I don’t deserve it?

Any kind of BPD sucks, quiet or otherwise. But raising awareness about quiet BPD is crucial: professionals may not realize we have BPD because we don’t fit the “classic” model, and thus we end up spending years misdiagnosed or in treatment that doesn’t address what’s actually going on with us. We could be spared YEARS of additional suffering by getting the correct treatment as soon as possible. So let’s raise awareness, shall we?

shadowhunters fluff/sitcom/everyone is happy universe episode 1: pet shop

jace wants to get a pet to therapeutically heal from the falcon story and the gang goes along for moral support

once confronted with all the pups and kits and adorable faces the gang is suddenly much more invested and investigate ‘for jace’

luke is kind of bummed at first bc he used to love animals but now that hes a werewolf animals are always scared of him. but he doesnt want to ruin everyone elses fun so he tries to stay out of trouble and drifts to the back where he finds a wall of reptiles. one thin green one seems to be looking right at him. ‘just like harry potter’ luke thinks, smiling to himself. it is just like harry potter, luke. he tentatively reaches into its cage and picks it up. it wriggles around in his hands contentedly and wraps itself around his wrist. its smooth cold skin is refreshing since luke usually runs pretty hot since the change. he turns around to show someone his new friend (hopefully simon since hes always been terrified of snakes) and sees magnus holding a 30 pound yellow python around his shoulders. ‘just like britney’ whispers luke. ‘JUST LIKE BRITNEY!’ cheers magnus.

izzy and alec, meanwhile, gravitate towards the kitties and puppies respectively. they playfully banter over the differences between cat and dog people, quickly becoming less casual and more competitive. they give each other a look. cut to 10 minutes later theyre giving their troops battle speeches before they send them down the racetracks and obstacle courses they made out of treat boxes, jimmy jabs style

clary and simon go with jace to look at the hamsters and mice and bunnies. jace, with at least 2 tiny soft little furballs in each hand and a tear in his eye: ‘theyre okay i guess.’ simon and clary politely ignore his sniffling, even when he uses a guinea pig’s fur to dry his tears. clary and simon are good friends. theyre all amusing themselves picking out animals that remind them of the rest of the gang when simon says ‘guys. uh.’ by some wacky twist of circumstance simon has managed to release every single rodent in the store. ‘we should tell someone’ simon says intelligently, eyes wide with worry. ‘NO WE SHOULDNT WE CAN HANDLE IT’ jace and clary whisper frantically, eyes wild with determination. as it turns out, they can not handle it. they can not handle it at all.