#I'm now realizing that a lot of people who reblogged this are annoyed by the complexity of D&D

[5ummit]

New Mature Content Warning Overlay (And How to Get Rid of It)

More fun community label "features"! Unlike the new mandatory label for #NSFW, this one is a bigger deal to me because it affects my entire blog and it can't be avoided by just using a different tag.

Apparently on custom blog layouts, if you happen to post or reblog even a SINGLE post that's been flagged with the mature content community label, a full-page warning overlay will appear blurring out your entire blog that must be manually clicked through every single time the page is refreshed. At first I thought this was just a bug due to my older layout but I've come to realize it's not. It's a feature (as confirmed by this recent changes post) that affects all custom themes. The formatting will vary based on your own theme but here's what it looks like on my blog:

I don't know about you but I find this is stupid and annoying. If it could be dismissed once and never seen again that might be one thing, but that's not the case. The vast majority of my blog is not "mature" enough to warrant such an aggressive and invasive warning. I also think pop-ups are obnoxious in general and I'll be damned if tumblr's going to force me to have one on MY blog.

After some desperate googling for a known workaround and being unable to find even a single mention of it, I decided to take on the challenge myself. I'm not a theme coder, so apologies if there's a better way to do this, but luckily it only took me like 10 minutes to figure out a simple fix, which I'm now sharing with anyone else who may want it:

.community-label-cover__wrapper {display: none}

Just copypaste that somewhere in your CSS and goodbye pop-up!

If you're not sure how to access your theme code, check out this help article. You can also add the code via the Advanced Options menu, which is actually even better (if you can get it to work, it depends on how your theme was coded), because it will then automatically be reapplied to a lot of themes without having to remember to manually add it every time if you change your theme in the future.

Obviously this will only remove it from your own blog for anyone who may visit it. If you never want to see this warning again on other people's blogs you can also add this custom filter to your ad block:

tumblr.com##.community-label-cover__wrapper

Unfortunately I do not have an easy tutorial on hand for this one as the method will depend on your specific ad block app or extension.

Some additional notes:

After adding the theme code and saving the changes, give it a minute to update as it sometimes takes a little while for the page to refresh.

The warning overlay only seems to appear if a "mature" post is on the FIRST page of your blog, which is still annoying and makes the whole thing even more pointless and stupid because what if someone visits any other page of your blog, and oh no, happens to see "mature" content they weren't warned about?!

The warning also appears on direct links to "mature" posts.

This hack has NOTHING to do with entire blogs that have been flagged as NSFW. It only works for non-flagged blogs with custom themes that happen to have individual "mature" posts.

[dare-to-dm]

I realize that this level of complexity is not to everyone’s tastes, but there is a perfectly good reason that the sleep spell is like this in 5E.

Basically, in the context of the type of gameplay you typically have in Dungeons and Dragons, Sleep would be boring if it always worked!  After all, that ends the encounter right there.  But if you introduce situations in which it might not work, or will only work on some portion of the creatures you cast it on, then you have tension and excitement again.  It’s cool when you pull it off instead of just being a given.

A lot of magic in D&D is like that for this reason.  Magic can be very swingy mechanically.  When it works, it hugely benefits you.  But it doesn’t always work!

And I understand that there are games that would introduce and resolve this tension in a different way.  Perhaps having the players or GM decide whether or not it works in return for some narrative benefit or penalty.  There are other valid approaches.  But some of us like having the Rules as Referee. 

people are often surprised when i say that dnd 5e is not by any measure 'rules-light' and to illustrate what i mean, here's the spell 'sleep' in dnd 5th edition:

and the spell 'sleep' in trophy gold

dnd 5th edition, across the three core sourcebooks (not including the many supplements that are hundreds of pages long!) is 960 pages long. trophy gold was originally released as 23 pages of a 46-page zine. it recently got a full release as its own book which is still only 250 pages long, of which 200 are devoted to prebuilt incursions (trophy's analogue to dnd campaign modules)

and trophy gold isn't even the simplest rpg out there -- i just picked it because it's playing in a similar genre space to 5e and so the point of comparisons are very direct and obvious. single-page rpgs are basically their own genre! there are tabletop rpgs you can learn in ten minutes or less! never let anyone tell you that dnd 5th edition is 'streamlined' or 'simple!' it's not even the simplest dungeons and dragons!

[sapphicdib]

I am sure you are all aware of the current state of the fandom. I have done my best to avoid all of the controversy, but seeing how others have voiced their concerns I would like to as well.

I, as an artist, do not feel safe in the Rain World fandom.

I have expressed this in the past, but I have been the victim of false pedophile and grooming allegations with the use of manipulated and doctored screenshots. I do not have the words to articulate just how psychologically damaging it is to have an entire fandom turn on you in an instant. To have your social life destroyed. To have hundreds or even thousands of people celebrate your downfall, simply because you annoyed them, because now they have a "reason" to. Watching this fandom gleefully parade around shaky evidence and happily participate in this type of behavior is sickening to me. It makes me worry that someday, I will annoy someone enough to have another false allegation made against me, and I will have to go through that again. There is a part of me that believes I would not survive such a thing. I am not trying to be dramatic when I say that, but people need to realize that "internet drama" can cause serious harm your mental health. I still have PTSD nightmares related to the callout post made about me from 3 years ago. This is not something you can just “get over”.

People need to remember fanartists are not paragons of grace, nor are they perfect. The fact that the internet has allowed people to dehumanize artists into "content machines" that must never slip up rather than human beings who are messy and awkward and can fuck up at times is sickening. I do not feel comfortable in a fandom that jumps at the opportunity to harass someone over a mistake, that stirs up a witchunt over what boils down to miscommunications. A fandom that treats every situation as black and white and doesn't wait for all the evidence to come out.

I believe nyuuronfly put it best in their post:

"It is not inspiring to sit around and get attention in an atmosphere where the more attention you get the more you know many of the eyes that are looking toward you are searching for a weak point to go after."

I understand revealing a lot of my trauma in this post is a potentially stupid decision, but I believe my story can help make people realize the genuine harm callout posts cause. It is not fun having to deal with constant paranoia that hundreds of people are praying on your downfall. I have considered not posting about, or simply deleting my rot au many times because of worry that someone will think it's too “dark” or “problematic” and decide I am the fandom's #1 punching bag for months.

As of now, I will not be deleting, nor will I stop posting art. But I have considered it many times, and this behavior as of late brought me the closest I've ever been to doing so. I love rain world and frankly, I don't want to feel this way about the fandom! I want this place to be positive, I want better for this game. I'm not mad, just disappointed.

TL;DR:

PLEASE for the LOVE OF GOD stop reblogging callout posts.

Fanartists are PEOPLE. They are giving you FREE art. Treat them better.

You are not immune to false screenshots, mob mentality, and black and white thinking.

Rain world is a gorgeous, creative, and deeply moving game. Please, let's work to make this community reflect that.

[justwonder113]

Head over heels - Lee Know

part 2

Warning: Mentions of drinking, Minho is a bit tipsy but he's sober by the end of it. Rader is getting hit on by some weird dude. Slightly suggestive at the end. Minho is staring at the reader's chest. GN reader. Not proofread. Please tell me if I missed anything

Word count -1.8k

Masterlist

A/N- I'm finally back!! Thankfully I got over the virus and more than dedicated to write as much as I can. I have many ideas and can't wait to write all of them. Thank you for all the love and support you've given me it truly means the world to me. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. If you have any requests too feel free to do so. Take care of yourselves, love you all❤️

When is the right time to say that you're head over heels in love with someone? Perhaps when they do something really romantic and/or selfless. Something probably really kind and generous, something really cool... Probably not when they are dazed from having a bit too much to drink and look like they are about to fall asleep any given second now, right? Yup, you were definitely weird, probably the main reason you and Minho clicked this well. Okay in your defense you knew you were smitten with him for a while obviously, who wouldn't fall for him? it just downed on you though how down bad you actually were.

Really though. To think that you would realize that you're in love with your best friend when his like anywhere but this world is beyond crazy, even for you.

"Pretty boy do you want me to bring you some water?" You asked after seeing him blink slowly yet another time. You were at this club Hyunjin had invited you at. The music was blasting on the full volume and everyone was having the time of their life, well maybe except you and Minho. Normally you would be also be having fun with your friends but now everything felt a bit dull. Maybe because you didn't drink anything. You had bad flu earlier and you just didn't feel like drinking today. As for Minho, normally the drinks didn't get to him that easily, but he wad been overworking himself a lot lately and due to the fatigue even such small amount of alcohol as two or three shots got to him pretty easily.

Minho looked at you with dazed eyes for a second or two, as if trying to gather his thoughts. Something glimmered in his already sparkly eyes and he gave you a small smile. God, he looked so squishy and cute like this you wanted to pinch his cheeks. Not that you would, he had this tough persona to keep. Also not to sound weird but you didn't want others to notice how cute he was. Let's just say you wanted to gatekeep him for yourself.

After Minho gave you a small nod you got up and headed to the bar. There were a lot of people in line so you would probably have to wait quite a while to get something as simple as glass of water. You texted Minho that this could take a minute or two and started waiting for your turn. Meanwhile from the corner of your eye you saw someone shamelessly check you out, like, could they be any more obvious about it? You prayed that he wouldn't approach you while you also crossed your fingers for the bartender to hurry up. You decided to ignore it. You didn't see anything.

Unfortunately your prayers hadn't been answered, the sleazy man decided to approach you, honestly the audacity some people had. You tried to keep your distance but it was all in vain. The man stood in front of you now. He even made a show of slowly checking you out. God what a pig. You really tried your best to compose yourself, you really didn't need to make a scene now.

"Hello. Gorgeous can I buy you a drink?" God even his voice was so annoying. You reminded yourself that you needed to keep calm. With the most polite voice you could muster you answered that you were good and that you were with someone. But the dude still kept pestering, making your blood boil even more. Who the hell did he think he was? You had enough of this, you were about to warn him that you would call the security on him, when hands wrapped around you. You stiffened for a second, but relaxed when you noticed that it was Minho. The strange man grumbled. "Shit, boyfriend of yours?"

Minho answered before you could, his hands tight around your waist, his glare cold as ice. "Yes, now fuck off." The man was about to argue but Minho's death glare shut him up quickly. The man slithered away to disturb someone else you guessed. You noticed to yourself to nitify security about him. He seemed shady.

You turned your full attention to Minho, who kept hugging you and now had rested his head on your shoulder. He still felt sleepy you guessed. "You took too long." He grumbled after a few seconds of silence. You turned your head and kissed the top oh his head. Minho grunted again. "Sorry pretty boy. Let's get you that water." You took a step towards the bar but Minho stopped you.

"Don't want it anymore."

You fully turned to Minho and started closely examining him, his face was unreadable though.

"Hey, how are you? Are you okay?"

"Just tired. Can I stay at yours?" You thought for a minute jokingly which Minho didn't really appreciate which he showed by softly pinching your side. Really, what was up with him being all cute today? You couldn't help yourself and you gave him a little peck on his cheek.

"Sure." Minho didn't say something, and you couldn't read anything on his face. He held his hand towards you and after you held it he started leading you to others so that you could say your goodbyes.

The walk to your house wasn't long. You appreciated the comfortable silence between you two. It was peaceful. You also loved how extra protective Minho was over you, he didn't let go of your hand whole way. Your heart felt like it would burst from joy.

You sighed in relief once you walked into the safehold of your house. It felt so good to be home. Like the two youthful people you were you immediately started getting ready for bed. You of course on top that pestered Minho to drink plenty of water before going to sleep. You didn't want him to wake up with a hangover. Surprisingly he was being obedient. You also couldn't help but admit that sleepy Minho was absolutely adorable. To you he just looked so soft and squishy all you wanted to do was to cover his whole face with kisses. And from the way how whiny he was, telling you that you should hurry up already and come to him he would most likely let you.

You didn't know when you crossed the boundary between being friends and well something more, but here you were now. You were always touchy with each other and flirting was a regular occurrence too, you didn't know when these playful banters became meaningful and made your heart flutter, you didn't really know when did you get so extra affectionate but you loved it if it meant that maybe you two could become something more.

You tried to get ready for bed as fast as possible, but the chains you had worn today didn't really let you. They managed to get stuck and you didn't really feel like going to sleep in them. So you turned to Minho who laid across on your bed. Diagonally like a sweet person he was. He had changed into the sweats and oversized shirt he had left at your house, but as it seemed he got lazy to get under the covers. "Min can you help me with these?" You asked sweetly as possible. Minho didn't answer and you thought that he fell asleep again laying diagonally on your bed, but he got up after a couple of seconds. He looked at you with unimpressed eyes waiting for you to ask what you wanted. You motioned towards your bundled up chains. Minho grumbled again but immediately started working on it.

The chains were more tangled up than you could imagine. Minho kept grumbling about how he should just snap them but still kept diligently working through every knot. You had no idea how did they get so tangled up on your neck. You got curious on what was taking so long and looked down and only when did you notice that upper buttons were open and you were showing quite a decent amount of cleavage. You felt shy for a second but then as if on cue you noticed how Minho's eyes kept shifting down towards your exposed skin. Let's just say it was a nice ego boost. Subtly as possible you even straightened up a little so you could show off your assets better. You didn't know if Minho knew you did that on purpose but his eyes sure did appreciate the sight. You didn't even realize you were staring at him, before he looked up and your eyes met. Suddenly you felt lost at words. How was he so gorgeous? You could use every word in dictionary and still it wouldn't be able to fully express his beauty. You wondered for a second if he was aware just what he did to you. God, you could just stare at him for hours.

"I did it." He spoke calmly as he placed your chain on your hands. "I think I know how you should thank me." Was it you or was he really close? You could even feel his breath on your skin. Your eyes couldn't help but shift from his eyes down to his pretty lips. What were you even doing? Minho noticed your wandering eyes, his gaze also shifted down to your lips.

His finger touched under your chin and slowly lifted your face so that you were eye to eye again.

"What do you have in mind?" You found your voice after a few long seconds of being rendered speechless.

"I want to kiss you so bad." Minho's confession sent shivers down your spine. Good thing that you were sitting on your bed, you felt like you would fall otherwise. You felt like fanning yourself, your whole body felt so hot.

"What's stopping you then?" You quipped back, he was so close now with each breath your lips slightly grazed each other.

"Nothing." His voice was raw with emotion. You didn't even get to say anything, his lips were on you in matter of milliseconds. The kiss was raw, passionate. It ignited you, you felt alive now that you had the taste of his lips. It was everything and so much more, it was like he tried to convey his feelings with this kiss.

Guess you were not the only one head over heels for the other.

[horrendoushag]

just went into the danny phantom main tag for the first time in a while and found a ton of dpxdc prompts flooding it. didn't realize it was still such a big issue. so,

hey guys this is your reminder to ONLY tag your danny phantom/dc crossovers as #DPXDC, no other fandoms

I know you want people from the dp and dc fandoms to be able to find your crossover stuff. I relate. but to the multitude of people who want plain danny phantom content or aren't interested in dc, finding dc crossover after dc crossover is just annoying. we don't want to have to dig. we are going to scroll straight past your dpxdc prompts and art and fics. tagging only for the crossover is unusual, yeah, but this crossover is so big it is literally its own fandom. and as relatively large as the dpxdc fandom is, I'm pretty sure the danny phantom fandom is bigger. thus, we do not want a bunch of posts from a different fandom in our tag. people who want dpxdc can go out of their way to find it by way of the tag I thought we'd established months ago. if you want to tag it as danny phantom or dc or whatever for the purpose of organizing your blog, just reblog the post with the tags added.

I love dpxdc crossovers. I was reading one right before I started making this post. but when I go to the danny phantom tag, I want to see mainly danny phantom content. now when I try to do that, I find a whole lot of not-that. I just searched 'danny phantom', and of the top dp posts, 26 out of 48 were dpxdc. clicked on the danny phantom tag and 12 out of the first 14 top posts were also dpxdc. much of this was not tagged with the proper DPXDC tag. the issue appears to be far less severe for the dc fandom, but it's still a bit irritating.

again, I love this crossover. I don't want to blacklist the multitude of tags it uses, because I like seeing it on my dash occasionally. but if this keeps up, I honestly might.

it's DPXDC, no spaces, DP comes first, DC comes second.

[olderthannetfic]

The moment it really clicked with me how downhill online etiquette had gone was when I realized we were all collectively expected to put our personal info or content warnings in our bios. Why? If you don’t want to see certain content from certain people filter out tags. If that blog doesn’t use tags and you require filtering then just don’t follow that blog or block them. No but that is not good enough. I have to tell everyone LOUDLY that I reblog nsfw content because ‘think of the 16 year old children’ or whatever. Okay. Those teenager children can also just filter out tags I am not required to list my personal information or to put a neon NSFW sign in my description for that to happen.

Just use the tags. We’ve always had that why do people now require my blog description give them warning? Why can’t you be responsible for yourselves?

My advice to anyone reading this is the same advice I would give someone online 10 years ago. Do not advertise your personal information online. That’s just my opinion and I’m not changing my habits because some would be bully thinks it’s “sus” not to.

--

Honestly, I think we expect to take things in at a glance far too much too.

If I suddenly started posting tons of explicit images, sure, that could be annoying since it would be a change. But I've had tons of people send me weird asks demanding that I explain my blog to them or being confused about why such-and-such is on here when such-and-such is routinely on here.

When I'm curious about someone, I usually scroll through a couple of months of their tumblr to see what sorts of things they normally post. Even then, it might take some time of interacting with them before I have a sense of who they are.

That's how learning a person or a space works.

But a lot of people expect to see cliff notes in the sidebar and for these to have been updated recently with great accuracy.

[wrengrif]

It's Thought Time again

So I've been rolling over this in various posts and reblogs, and I'm finally going to pin down my thoughts and write them here. Some might call this my 'Aziraphale Defense Post', but that's not accurate.

This is my William James take - meaning, everyone's reality is different due to perspective. What is true to me is not going to be true to you, 100% of the time. However, there is a facet of truth in everything we do believe, because we wholeheartedly believe it. That gives us a rainbow of truths from one opinion, each in their own radiant color.

So here's what I believe to be true. 6000 years ago, Heaven and Hell, on two completely different missions, sent the angel and the demon they found the most annoying to Earth. Not the weakest, not the most problematic (not yet anyways), but the ones they all collectively rolled their eyes at. Crowley was too flash. Aziraphale was too soft.

So God plopped Aziraphale in Eden, told him to protect the humans and not let them eat the apple tree that was sitting right there in front of them. Didn't tell him to put up a fence, or wave the flaming sword at them.

Satan booted Crowley upwards and told him to vaguely, 'start some trouble'. Vaguest of orders, no real direction in them. Crowley could have just thrown rocks at Adam and Eve and it would have counted.

We all know what happened from there. However, instead of Heaven and Hell going, 'Okay we're going to really pin down these orders now, sending more troops, let's get humanity really going' ... they basically left Aziraphale and Crowley alone in the office for 6000 years. Oh, the head offices occasionally pop up. Threaten, in their own unique ways. Mostly though, Crowley and Aziraphale were the only immortal beings on a planet filled with human mayflies.

Human mayflies that nine times out of ten would just set fire to themselves, or show greater compassion than either one of them had ever known.

Crowley and Aziraphale were all alone, except for each other. Even among humans, who they clearly understood more than their superiors -- you had to know they both stuck out. Yeah, think on that. Crowley couldn't have been the only one outcast, with his red hair and his yellow eyes. Aziraphale has the most white-blonde, curly hair in existence. Tag along with blue eyes and fair skin and come on. So at the beginning, they only ever really had each other for safe company. As they moved towards Europe, it got easier to fit in but even then you know people were still giving them the side-eye.

They were both transitory - following where-ever a mission went. Probably a home for maybe ten or so years, but then they'd have to move on again. We talk a lot about how Crowley didn't have a physical home until the creation of the bookshop.

That means neither did Aziraphale.

So what happened? They became home to one another. A touchstone in the centuries that passed. Aziraphale never rejected being approached by Crowley, despite being a demon, and Crowley never held Heaven's stupid missions again Aziraphale, so they kept coming together. Over and over again. Think of Rome. Aziraphale is so happy to see Crowley, and it's only been a few decades. Crowley's mood improves the longer the conversation goes on, letting down his defenses, relaxing enough to smirk.

The Arrangement, thought of by Crowley, agreed to by Aziraphale, despite the dangers they both knew they would face, because at least it meant they could see each other without having to make an excuse or just 'happen to be in the area'. Now they could meet up at theatres or in graveyards. They had to be careful - they always, always had to be careful - or the other one could be hurt.

It is the worst thing that can happen to either one of them, if the other one is hurt, or worse, killed. Remember Aziraphale's face in the graveyard, that look of sheer horror when he realizes Hell has taken Crowley.

Remember Crowley yelling as he runs into a burning bookshop.

The bookshop and the Bentley are theirs, but they can lose those and still go on, as long as they have each other. Maybe it is co-dependent, but honestly who else can they depend on, if not each other? That's why I believe Aziraphale begged Crowley to come with him to Heaven, not because he wanted Crowley to be an angel, but because Crowley would be safe - Aziraphale's Home would be Safe. That's why he says, 'Nothing lasts forever'. No Thing.

Crowley is not a Thing, to Aziraphale. Crowley is Aziraphale's Person. His safe place, and he's Crowley's. They both know it. It's why Aziraphale never wants to run away because he knows he's not fighting for a place called home, he's fighting for Crowley. It's why Crowley walks away and always comes back - not because he's weak but because he knows that being with Aziraphale is what matters. It's what makes life worth living.

Which is what makes the Final Fifteen so heartbreaking because they are both saying the same thing, but they're on different wavelengths. Yet, Yet ... as time has passed and I've been able to look at the Final Fifteen with some space, I see that it's not as hopeless as it seems.

Because Crowley came back. Because Aziraphale looks ready to do what he has to do. I don't think it'll be violence, because they've never solved their problems with violence and I don't think they'll start now. I just know that They're Not Talking is not going to last as long as we think, and that anger and betrayal is not going to be the first thing on their minds when they finally see one another again.

Probably going to be that kiss, though.

This why I could never say I can't forgive Aziraphale for his actions, because he did what he had to do to keep his home, his Crowley safe. I know Crowley knows that, too. How is that all going to shape up - how they're going to find themselves in balance again?

Well. I guess we'll have to wait, and see.

[pillarsalt]

hi Im the same ex transmasc anon who sent you that aask about rhe tumblr ban thing, I did a lot of reading without forcing myself away this time. (I used to look at radblr sometimes bc I got curious, but when it started making too much sense i would make myself stop reading and tell myself I was being manipulated and try to forget about it..looking back that probably wasnt normal haha,)

I have mixed feelings tho. I don’t regret looking closer, the amount of sexism in the trans community was horrible. I think even radfems don’t understand how bad it was because it was all subtle styff. But seeing it constantly irl and online was terrible for me as a female. It gave me so much internalized misogyny, it made me hate myself and I felt worthless and stupid! and whiny! and annoying! all the time!! unless I was able to be perceived as a man. I felt like I had to be a man to have any respect in the community. I remember being so amazed to see abortion be covered by trans people I followed in even a reblog because it was the first time I saw people in the community talk about female issues at all. Even then it was covered with disclaimers and terfs DNI banners. male,opinions were always prioritized.

I thought this was dysphoria and a sign I was really a man. then I started reading radfem things and its like that feeling instantly lifted. I felt respected, listened to, even though I wasn’t speaking. It was also like all this stuff I’d internalized from being female, all the trauma around sex based oppression, was actually being addressed. in trans circles you get called a terf for acknowledging females face any kind of oppression (they acknowledge sex when it’s to talk about how hard male loneliness is on young trans women, and how the incel to trans woman pipeline happens, though…)

but the reason I have mixed feelings is bc I now feel….dumb? And afraid. And angry. I spend well over a decade being part of this community, half my friends are in the community, I’ve been trans since I was 9. My typings not the best… dyslexia sucks lol. But I like to think I’m smart. Now I don’t know,

And it makes me think totally different of these people I saw as progressive cis male allies, who were so loud about trans rights and hating JKR and terfs. Now they just feel like the same flavor of anti-feminist man I hate.

And the community is so huge and it’s so widely accepted and I don’t know how to deal!

But I am happy to be a woman now. In a healthy way I haven’t been for a long time. thats all that matters.

I'm sorry for everything you were put through. Many girls and women have been sucked into this thinking it will provide a solution for their distress at the social ramifications of the body they're born in, only for more people, namely men, to take advantage of their distress and gain power over them. As you mentioned, even "cis" men get in on the action when they justify intimidating and threatening women with violence in response to perceived transphobia. It's a terrible situation to be in. Made worse when you can't openly talk about with people you're close to for fear of alienating them.

I think you should give yourself more credit. You ARE smart. You questioned what you were told was never allowed to be questioned and realized you were being misled. And what you said about trying to make yourself forget the realizations you've had, that is normal. It's a difficult and scary thing to hold opinions that conflict with those of the majority of your peers. I think it's like the climax of cognitive dissonance -- when what you know is true clashes so hard against what you want to believe, you find it impossible to justify anymore, so you just resort to pretending you never learned the information in the first place. Been there.

I'm just being a stereotype now, but there's a classic Dworkin quote for this:

"Many women, I think, resist feminism because it is an agony to be fully conscious of the brutal misogyny which permeates culture, society, and all personal relationships."

Anyway my point is, don't beat yourself up. I'm really happy to read that you're accepting your womanhood, it's a hard journey but it's worth it to have a good relationship with yourself. And in my experience (at the sage and wisened age of 25) that it gets easier as you get older. You work through mistakes, and that prepares you to handle the next mistake better. You're right, your health and happiness is all that matters, keep striving for that and it will steer you right.

I wanted to give you some reading recommendations, you mentioned you have dyslexia but I believe these two are available in audiobook form if that's up your alley:

Delusions of Gender: How Our Minds, Society, and Neurosexism Create Difference by Cordelia Fine

Invisible Women: Exposing Data Bias in a World Designed for Men by Caroline Criado Perez

There are tons more great books on feminism but these two are my go-tos for hard facts on gender, socialization, and the systematic discrimination against women worldwide through biases that are built into society.

Well uh; TLDR thanks for gracing my inbox, anon :) Hope you keep well.

[nightshadehoney]

I never watched James Somerton's shitty Killing Stalking video because I was trying to be good to myself and avoid something that I knew would make me very angry. In fact, I never watched any of his stuff because the fact that he made a video like that was enough to discount any thing he ever had to say (also I heard about the Celluloid Closet plagiarism).

But man, is the James Somerton discourse bringing a lot of Killing Stalking-related feelings back up for me. Because I'm mad; I'm still so mad. There are a suprising amount of people on social media who are saying they never watched any of his stuff except for the Killing Stalking video. I'm annoyed not just to find out that the vid had that sort of reach and influence, but also because Somerton's unmasking hasn't seemed to make people reasses the validity of the kind of thing he was saying. People are just now being like "hmm I think this guy might have Issues With Women" but that doesn't warrant any reflection on what exactly the motivation is of people who complain about women enjoying a niche webcomic? Because I don't actually believe you're concerned about the influence of some obscure piece of media when you advertise its existence to your large audience many of whom had not heard of it and would never have heard of it but for your transparent outrage porn video. It's rage bait and the target was women that are perceived as straight. A big channel has publicized the fact that they excised a section that endorsed the opinions in this video from their own because they became aware of Somerton's plagiarism and dishonesty (presumably; if it was actually because they recognized his views were coming from a sexist place I would welcome a clarification). And you know, I don't think that's a good look actually. That you needed to be told he was a bad person and couldn't idependently put together that the misogynist man was saying misogynist things.

The comic ended years ago and the fandom has gone mostly quiet, but to this day people are still the peddling the"fujoshi/stupid teenage girls who don't know what's good for them are shipping these characters because they are too braindead to realize it's not a romance; it's a horror, two things I believe are mutually exclusive. I am smarter than all of these cringe degenerates" bullshit. It's in the comments of the hbomberguy video even; one comment was such a gross misrepresentation of the series that my friend needed to talk me down from getting into a pointless youtube comments argument (bless him) because these people are officially making me lose my marbles.

This narrative is full of shit, it's demonstrably not fucking true. You can go on the artist's twitter right now and its full of her retweeting shippy fanart of that pairing readers were apparently never intended to ship.

(I don't think Koogi knows or cares about James Somerton; she just reblogs the works of fans who tag her. This made me laugh though).

Now this is all speculation because he died decades before social media existed, but I think if Nabokov was alive today his twitter would not be full of Humbert Humbert x Dolores Haze fanart. And yet, I have unironically seen people compare shipping Sangwoo and Bum in Killing Stalking with the misreading of Lolita as a precocious sexual temptress more than once.

And this isn't me saying that Killing Stalking is the disgusting"pro-sexualized abuse" comic that tumblr purity police used to characterize it as either. One of these days I'm going to go truly bonkers and end up banging pots and pans on the street corner, yelling at random innocent passerbys about how stories about romantic and sexual relationships are not required to be Hallmark movies. You can make art about the negative, dark, and troubling parts of these feelings and relationships without creating a pat morality tale. You don't need to approach media analysis like your 7th grade teacher has assigned you an essay on explaining what a novel's "message" is.

Nobody, not the author and not the fans, genuinely thinks that Sangwoo and Bum have a healthy or aspirational relationship. This hypothetical person that does not understand the relationship is toxic doesn't exist. Because girls and women, even the ones having cringey fandom fun on tiktok or whatever, are not so stupid and naive that they are unware that breaking someone's legs and locking them in a muder basement is bad. The type of concern troll rhetoric Somerton employed in his video is directed near exclusively at women interested in men and there's a reason for this. Women are not responsible for abuse that men do to them; nobody is responsible for their partner abusing them. If I never saw people spit this bullshit again it would be too soon.

[manikas-whims]

Things we can still get in a possible SoC Spin-off

now that i'm done ranting about the things that annoyed me, lets talk about this.

1: Some light on Inej's backstory, the abuse and exploitation she suffered, her own struggles with touch, her vulnerable side, her fun side especially when she's around Jesper and Nina, her fears and how she rises above them. According to this article by tvguide, showrunner Eric Heisserer states that a script has already been written about her incorporation back into the Dregs. Let's just hope they stop reducing Inej's personality to a mere “knife wife” and “girlboss” , and address her actual depth.

2: Tante Heleen's return! Since we never actually see her body onscreen and her death is merely mentioned twice and shrugged off, I'm hoping she's alive and that the production team is keeping her for the spin-off. She's an integral part of Inej's character arc.

3: The Dregs. I wanna see Rotty, Specht, Anika, Pim, Per Haskell, Big Bolliger and the rest of the bunch. Also Dime Lions, Razorgulls, The Liddies, and other prominent gangs. And a shot of the entire Merchant Council would be nice.

4: Since Inej will return and Matthias is still in Hellgate, we'll get the entire Hellgate breakout and Ice Court Heist. (I'm assuming during Matthias's breakout, Pekka Rollins will also manage to escape from Hellgate 🤔) So we can still have the entire book 1 ending at Vellgeluk where Wylan's face has been tailored and Inej gets captured by Van Eck.

5: Crooked Kingdom plotline till they rescue Inej— Kaz throwing off a rapist from the lighthouse after gaining intel, Kaz threatening a little girl, Jesper and Wylan going to receive Colm Fahey and the whole “people pointing guns at each other is basically a handshake” 😂, Nina's struggles with Parem and Matthias trying his best to be there for her, the iconic Kanej reunion at Goedmedbridge,..

I'm not sure how they'll proceed after retrieving Inej, because alot has already been adapted in this season of SaB. But we'll still have the showdown against Van Eck. Not sure what they'll replace the plague thing with but we'll see..

6: Wylan's backstory! Aside from Inej, we also have Wylan's heart wrenching backstory and we'll witness it all. His early life, the moment he lost his mother and his world became gray, his escape from the men who try to kill him, his realization that they were sent by his own father, his struggles with it all, his conflict with being a good person and working with criminals, his reunion with his very alive mother and Jesper being there for him, and so much more..

7: Kuwei! I'm a big fan of this sassy boy. He absolutely hates having to be with Crows and he chooses not to use their language simply so he can avoid conversations with them 😭 We'll see him cause conflict in Wesper's relationship but also slowly accepting and being thankful of the Crows. And I really hope, the show adds a sort of camaraderie between him and Wylan too. But despite it all, I still wanna see Wylan threaten to drown him 😆

8: The Bathroom Scene ♡ If we take into consideration the wound cleaning moment in season 2 of SaB, its a lot different from the bathroom scene. For starters, they're on Black Veil and not an actual bathroom, and Kaz didn't actually tie any bandages for her. Most importantly, the neck kiss didn't happen. So bathroom scene can still happen and it can serve as a beautiful callback and a parallel to this scene in season 2.

9: Kaz can still find Inej's parents, meet them and well, gift her a ship. Wylan and Jesper can still have their happily ever after, living at the Van Eck Mansion.

10: Since they've made so many changes to the source, can they fucking not kill off Matthias and let him and Nina have their happily ever after too? Like they can act as delegates for Ravka and Fjerda 🤔 Or they can help Hanne claim the Fjerdan throne 🤔 Anything aside from killing him off please.

if you guys have something to add or correct me on, please do so in replies/reblogs ☺

[zeldaversed]

Hi!!! I love in depth analyses of LoZ and I’m v excited to see what else you will post!!

I have, not really an ask I guess, but wanted to share my thoughts??

So you know how in totk it feels like everyone’s kind if forgotten who link is?? Or at least that’s how it seemed to me (it’s also been a minute since I’ve mostly been playing through botw rn, can’t remember properly anymore if that’s what happens)

But anywho, my personal headcannon is that he’s getting the Clark Kent treatment-most definitely bcuz of his open hair and replaced arm.

Link?? Nah that’s just some scraggly guy, but slap a regular arm back on him and suddenly It Is He.

Hi! I actually have a lot of drafts right now I've been writing out, I think it's 14 or so? I'm covering everything from lore to information specifically about the franchise as a game. And I'm always excited to hear others' thoughts!

I'm doing the opposite of what you're doing, actually. My husband got me ToTK for my birthday a couple weeks ago, and I've been playing it nonstop.

Mostly just exploring. But.

You're absolutely right. Besides a select few-- most of which are quest characters like Sidon, Purah, or Teba-- I've not met many Hylians (or Zora, or Rito, the only races I've interacted with so far) who remember Link. They all seem to have this image in their heads of this majestic hero who's tall and strong and powerful. They've met him once or twice but not long enough, I guess, to form a coherent image of him.

In ToTK-- which is at least six years after BoTW-- it feels like he and Zelda either stayed in Hateno or was with Purah and their groups the whole time, trying to rebuild Hyrule. Very few people recognize him. Who's this??? Link??? Funny you've got the same name as the hero! I mean this guy is obviously lucky to look like the Hero of Hyrule who destroyed Ganon and saved Princess Zelda. But it's not like he ever corrects them. Makes me wonder if he'd be annoyed or enjoy not having to hold up these higher standards he's used to since nobody realizes who he is. He's definitely more wild (in appearance at least) than he was in the previous game. Honestly, if I lived in Hyrule and didn't know who he was, I certainly wouldn't recognize him.

Like Clark Kent's glasses, it's amazing what long hair and a new arm can do.

Have something to add or you'd like to join the tag list? Reblog with your thoughts/ask or drop it in the ask box!

[lol-jackles]

Whenever Anons tell me that Jared fans are just as bad as AAs and hellers, I always ask for receipts.

The reason they won't ever be able to provide this (besides the ones Jai & co have been exposed as having faked to frame Jared fans...) is they don't exist (I know you know this lol, just making a general statement). The thing is, AA's are soooo beyond sensitive that they literally think saying we don't like Jensen's outfit at a con, or that he looks tired, or that he's had botox is "hate". You say anything even remotely critical about Jensen? You must hate him. They take such personal offense to things that are barely a slight to Jensen as hate.

Jared fans on the other hand, have had over 16 years of dealing with the hate and insults and biting their tongues. They have a much thicker skin. They are getting more assertive and pushing back more nowadays, but they still had to stay quiet for 15 years to keep the peace because, for some reason, it fell on them (much like it falls on Jared).

Btw this is exactly how and why I left the Jensen fandom completely. I was a Jensen leaning J2 fan when I joined the fandom. Problem was that I didn't immediately turn on blinders to Jensen's behavior when I joined (like a good little Jensen fan is expected to). So I made a mildly critical comment about him and was dogpiled. I was told I wasn't a real fan and that I actually hated him and was just pretending to like him. I was called some pretty gross stuff and told I wasn't wanted there. And from people I really didn't expect (at the time I didn't expect it at least). That's when I realized there weren't a lot of "safe spaces" in the Jensen fandom and it was exhausting trying to get news about him from sites where I also had to see (tagged) Jared hate and them attacking other fans like me. It was just easier to not bother anymore.

I actually saw a few posts recently from TB/GenV fans who were really annoyed that Jensen had a cameo in GenV because it's annoying how he takes over and all the gifsets and everything are all him. They didn't want him on the spinoff because that was a show mostly safe from his fans. It took them less than one season to piss off TB and GenV fans. Jared fans put up with it for 15 years.

Thank you for sharing your history. This completely jives with the many private convo I had with Dean/Jensen fans laminating the lack of safe space within their fandom that doesn't include Destiel and/or hating on Sam/Jared (X) but also expected to never discuss Dean or Jensen other than a perfect victim because AAs viewed themselves as perfect victims that the world must change and cater to them. The only advice I could provide them was to go to original posts by Sam girls (because at least they respect the show's canon) and look at who are reblogging or liking with Dean's avatar or his name.

Yeah I never understood why it fell on Sam girls to keep the fandom peace by appeasing the demented Sam haters. Just like it fell on Jared to protect Jensen from Destiel hellers' campaign to slander Jensen as a homophobe (*wave hello to MallorytoyourMickey aka Heidi aka High-D aka my buddy!*) but they won't protect Jared from slanderous lies spread by their own fandom on social media.

Which is why AAs, hellers, and even Kripke get the shock of their lives when Sam/Jared girls do strike back because they're like cats - chill and indifferent but have murder mittens and Freddy Kruger hands when rudely poked.

I’ve joked that Jared’s stans’ response to the Prequel debacle was “I’VE BEEN FREED!"  They no longer have to support and defend Jensen especially now that SPN is over, then the Prequel debacle was the cherry on top because it gave them the ultimate permission to no longer do the geek social fallacy thing. And I like to think that Dean fans are also free from Ackles Army's death grip of the character now that they're moving on to The Boys fandom.

Speaking of which, I'm not surprised to hear TB/GenV fans are annoyed by the AAs. The soap opera and SPN fandom couldn't stand them, why would TB fandom be any different? As long as AAs view themselves as perfect victims, they don't believe they need to change their attitude.

[somethingmissingthiswaycomes]

I just read a post I would have liked to reblog for some points, but not for others — so I think I'll just muse about it in my own post.

The post was about the dichotomy of TME and TMA — terms I at first accepted without thought and then began to criticize and eventually grew annoyed with, then saw them as a straight up red flag because of how big the center circle of the Venn diagram seems to be between people who use those terms regularly online and people who use them to disparage trans people who were assigned female at birth. The crossover with people who use insults like "theyfab" seemed to be pretty big too. And it's inaccurate of course; you can't say anyone is transmisogyny exempt based on an innate aspect of their identity. And people who use TME as an insult (seemingly anyone who used it at all) seem to all be hateful about transmascs having terms like transandrophobia to describe their experiences.

But the post that made me muse right now started out saying that yes, it's not precise, it's not fully accurate, but there's something experienced in perpetuity by transfemmes, assigned male at birth, that isn't experienced by anyone who can convincingly assert that they're not trans women — and TMA is trying to reach for that, and transmisogynists wouldn't grant us any language to describe our experiences.

I've been wrong a lot about fundamental things, and realizing where I've been wrong tends to start with a feeling that there's something I'm trying to reject, because it's uncomfortable to me or violates my previous worldview. Learning I was trans, learning about plurality, the process of noticing transandrophobia within the trans community... and long before that, when I lost the faith I'd been raised in and came to recognize it as highly damaging. It's deeply unpleasant for these shifts to happen.

I've been getting a feeling like that lately, but I wasn't sure where it was placed exactly. Each time I notice a problem with my worldview, I get more cautious about what possible new problems could crop up. It makes things, well, more uncomfortable.

Anyway, this one post I'm mulling over phrased things in a way that made me start looking more closely at what it is I've been avoiding. Because my mistrust of people who talk about TMAs and TMEs came alongside a rising pride and solidarity in transmasculinity, and a frustration with people who deny the trans community language by calling us "transandrophobia truthers" and other closed-minded, bigoted nonsense. (It's so fucking frustrating.) So... I haven't been looking for discussions about the terms TMA/TME outside of the hateful context it was showing up for me in.

And this post I'm mulling over mentioned requiring language to talk about experiences, and that clicked. It clicked with me that, while there are a whole lot of people playing boys v girls 2.0 in all this, there's an underlying need to be able to discuss the unique experiences that come with every aspect of who and what we are — and we're trying to categorize, categorize, categorize.

Part of what made me decide not to engage with the post that made me start talking about this is that the OP brought up the idea of transfeminine people who were assigned female at birth... and how that's, to them, a ridiculous idea. The thing is, it's not, and accepting that is part of not overcategorizing. It's an unusual thing, but it's real, and it can mean different things. You can't restrict the type of people who can exist.

But it's true that there are experiences specific to one's assigned gender (like AMAB) and to one's physiological reality associated with it that, in an intersection with a specific or adjacent actual gender (like trans woman, transfeminine, or transneutral with perceived femininity), are important to recognize as, for the most part, unique.

My ability to be specific here breaks down, though, because I know from reading the words of certain intersex people that a lot of the intersection of transfeminine and perisex AMAB isn't actually unique unless you ignore intersex people. I don't think I can say more than that. I don't think I can get nuanced enough.

But I can use an "opposite" example to try to draw a parallel. Because there is an AFAB trans experience that isn't shared by perisex trans people who were assigned male at birth: the risk of pregnancy, and specifically restrictions on bodies with uteruses. That's a difference that TERFs like to prey on to drive a wedge in the trans community. They like to convince us that they're the only ones who care about that part of our lived experiences. That is wrong. And we shouldn't let that difference divide us.

In the same vein, we shouldn't let that difference being something that could divide us turn the topic into one that trans people who have uteruses need to sacrifice in order to stand together with trans people who don't. I think that's contributed to transmasculine erasure. The assertion that it must be so would fall under the umbrella of transandrophobia, a much needed term for the sake of discussing that.

Now back to transmisogyny affected/exempt. An argument I've often shared and agreed with and been fervent about is that it's just recreating the AFAB/AMAB binary. And I have seen people argue that no it's not, it's different, but in recognizing how often it's used that way by bad actors, I decided to ignore that argument. I'd say it doesn't matter; it may as well be that.

I think I've been wrong. And I've known I was wrong, in the back of my mind, for a while. My initial acceptance of the TMA/TME dichotomy had me making that same argument, so it felt like something I had moved beyond. Now I'm letting myself look at it more closely, I'm coming to a less accepting-it-on-faith understanding of the argument.

I'm also forming a new way of explaining my own experiences as a genderfluid person. Hopefully doing so will help to articulate what I'm thinking;

I am, currently, TME. Not in the literal sense that I don't experience transmisogyny at all, but in the sense of, "I have a body that allows me to avoid and avert transmisogyny directed explicitly at my person." I'm affected by transmisogyny in a lot of ways I've been working through for some time now, and it's for that reason that I still await better terms for this concept—but using these terms as I believe good faith actors do, while I'm not exempt from transmisogyny in general, I am TME.

But I won't always be.

I am a genderfluid person who was assigned female at birth. I started testosterone a few years back, and then I stopped because I wasn't sure how far I wanted to take it. I've been coming to terms with the fact that I need to go further and I may have to be on HRT indefinably to be able to be my full, real self... but I'm still also a woman. And it will cause me dysphoria if I can't present as a woman at times when my body has been fully affected by testosterone.

I don't know if I'll be able to be stealth in any direction. I will be affected by transmisogyny in a way I'm not right now. The difference between how I'm affected by transmisogyny now and how I will be then can, at the moment, be communicated with "I'm TME now, but I'll be TMA when I transition."

And that terrifies me, honestly. I had recognized that terror as being me internalizing transmisogyny, but not as me being afraid of it. I know I'll be more comfortable with myself, but...

The forms of transmisogyny experienced specifically by people who are perpetually perceived as male (or "supposed to be male") while presenting as female are more scary than what I experience now.

And that is worth being able to talk about.

And that is worth having a term for.

And I suppose "TME" and "TMA" are the terms people are using right now, at least online. Imprecise language is something we have to work around sometimes.

I do hope that the discussion can evolve language that doesn't so easily allow bad actors to use otherwise potentially useful terms as a weapon of lateral bigotry.

And, in general, I hope the discussion can move in a direction that discourages that more by rejecting separation of trans people into boxes based on AGAB without erasing experiences that come with AGAB. Categories are good and useful to a point — but not as boxes so much as colors we're painted with. You can't split people into groups based on any one category they're colored with without forcing some people within those groups to de-prioritize something else they are.

...

This feels like it could be a draft for a real good blog post, but I know I won't post it if I wait and try to rewrite things later, so it'll have to be the finished thing.

It's been a while since I tried to add to the conversation like this. Gonna turn my anons off in case of problems. I am OUT of spoons and won't be able to respond to any opinion about this, but feel free to say things anyway if you're nice.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

“Telling the truth even when it hurts” for any characters, please

Btw your writing is so so good!! Don’t mind me reblogging everything you write to my cr sideblog

21. Telling the truth even when it hurts thank you!! i will never mind rbs lol. nsfw conversation in this one, folks.

He should have known better than to talk to Beau about this. She is an Expositor, a truth-seeker, a steadfast researcher—and a bitch, when she wants to be, which is, it seems, most of the time. He should have known that going to Beau for advice would result in less advice and more blunt statements of what are, to Beau, facts, things that she believes he needs to hear.

Which is why he hardly gets half a sentence out before she's rolling her eyes with a dramatic, put-upon groan. "Fucking hell, Caleb, why are we having this conversation?"

Caleb blinks owlishly. "Because I do not know the best course of action, Beauregard, and I thought my friend might sympathize."

She hits him with that look, the one the cuts to the quick and sees pasts each and every shield he's ever cast in his life. "If you wanted sympathy, you would have gone to Jester. You want me to tell you to fuck Essek, so do it. Fuck him. And stop talking to me about it."

His face is instantly on fire. He cannot believe his skin doesn't radiate a low, reddish light. "I—that is not what I—"

"You've been dancing around this forever and, like, I'm sorry? But it's boring. You like him. You want him. He likes and wants you, if the look his gives whenever you use words like temporal or sigil are anything to go by. So just jump his bones and put the rest of us out of our simmering misery."

Sometimes Caleb wishes they left her in the Astral Sea. "Things are not so simple, Beauregard."

She'd been lounging back on the couch in her and Yasha's living room, but now she sits up, rests her elbows on her knees, and stares directly at him. "Actually, this is the simplest shit. I get that your life has been, comparatively, pretty fucking extraordinary. Most people aren't brainwashed child soldiers who killed their parents and spent a decade in a fugue state in an asylum before going on the run from an entire government. That shit is complicated.

"But this? Being so intellectually and physically attracted to someone that you want to ride their dick until your eyes roll back in your head and you see gods? That's basic, baby, that's one-oh-one. It's not special or nuanced or specific, it's just being into someone. People have been doing that for, like, ever, so just do something about it."

They're glaring at each other, but mostly Caleb's glaring at her because he doesn't have the ability to glare at himself. She's annoying a lot of the time, but she's especially annoying when she's right.

Except there's one thing she has not considered, the thing Caleb has not been able to stop thinking about since he first realized how desperately he desires Essek. "And what if he does not return the sentiment, hmm? Am I to ruin the friendship we so carefully built?"

She snorts, cocksure, aggravating, and flops back against the couch again. "Caleb, if you walked into his tower and asked, he'd be on his knees for you without a thought."

And oh, how unexpected, this rush of want, hot and curling in his belly. He ignores it. "You seem so sure."

Beau turns her head over her shoulder and shouts, "HEY YASHA!"

The woman in question, who is out in the garden pruning her tulips, shouts back, "YEAH?"

"HOW BADLY DOES ESSEK WANT TO FUCK CALEB?'

"LIKE SO BADLY. LIKE SOMETIMES IT'S UNCOMFORTABLE TO LOOK AT HIM. THERE'S A LOT GOING ON THERE."

Beau extends her hands in an I told you so motion, and Caleb would love nothing more than for the ground beneath him to open up and swallow him whole—which, now that he thinks about it, he's sure Essek has a spell for. "Well this has been a terrible conversation. Let's never do it again."

"Gladly." Beau shoves herself off of the couch. "Just be sure to name the first kid after me. Anyway, you staying for dinner?"

And he does, because family is family, after all.

[redahlia-writes]

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

four. crystal

content (for this chapter): smut, family gatherings and That really annoying relative, a lot of feelings, a hint of possessiveness, frankie is once again being an idiot

word count: 5.8k

a/n: i'm so sorry for the delay, life's truly kicking my ass and i hope the chapter will make up for it. updates might be a little bit slow from now, but i'll do my best

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

previous

“For the first few months of their relationship, Fish didn’t even know it was a relationship. They moved in together, and still he would say stuff like she’s not my girlfriend, we haven’t talked about it, I don’t want to pressure her. Considerate, really, but so–Alba, chiquitita, cover your ears a moment–so fucking dumb. And that was how I knew. We’ve known Frankie a really long time, we’ve been together through a lot, and that was the first time I’ve seen him be so stupid–which is saying a lot. But, after all, isn’t that what love does in the beginning? It makes you foolish, nervous, doubt things you would’ve never doubted before. It was a new look on him, and it made it crystal clear how enamored he was, probably without even realizing it in the beginning–because I know he fell for Camila right off the bat. And I mean, how could he not? He called me, that first morning, and even then Camila was a surprise. Will said it all already–funny, kind, smart, beautiful, but most of all right. You were, and still are, right for him, Cami, the right person at the right time, and that is something rare, something great. Sometimes I think we should thank you more, because you changed Frankie’s life, and with his, ours too–mine for sure, because not only did I get to see my best friend finally start living again, but I also gained a sister. So, one Garcia to the other: thank you. That being said, it’d be nice to have him back every now and then–seriously, they’re practically glued together, can’t keep their hands to themselves to save their lives! I have some stories–”

Frankie’s hand tightened slightly around the glass of water in his grip when he felt a hand clasping him on the shoulder, tight and all too buoyant, shaking him and forcing his eyes away from Camila, Alba and his mother–Alba was lying on her back over Verónica’s knees, the older woman laughing in her chair as the child stretched and let her head dangle back towards Camila, sitting on the grass and smiling.

“Who would’ve thought–young Cisco with an actual girlfriend,” the man at his side was grinning, a glaze clouding his eyes, mouth stained red from wine. “Well, not so young anymore, are you?”

“Takes one to know one, Nicky,” he retorted with a hint of a laugh, some of the tension melting from his shoulders when he saw Camila move again at the corner of his eye, could hear Alba’s loud giggles from his spot.

His cousin laughed, clearly not put off by his comment–he wasn’t trying to be mean, exactly, but out of all the people in the family currently gathered in his mother’s backyard–

“So you got one of the last good ones, huh?” he still had his hand on Frankie’s shoulder, standing a step back as they were angled towards the other three. Camila’s hand was underneath Alba’s head, supporting it up as she leaned in, brushing their noses together as the child giggled again. A small smile caught on Frankie’s lips, warmth spreading across his chest. “Man, and she’s good with the kid. You oughta keep this one.”

Frankie’s family wasn’t mean–they’d never given him too much shit for what had happened to him, for what he’d done, at least not to his face and certainly not to his mother’s, for they wouldn’t even be there if they had. But he’d gotten good at understanding people’s double meaning, at hearing the light shift in their voices. You oughta keep this one, not like the last one, or all the others before.

“Thanks, Nic,” he sighed–across the garden, Camila tilted her head as she looked at him. She quirked up an eyebrow, and he was quick to shoot a smile in her direction, the slightest shake of his head at her silent question.

“Fine, too, your girl,” he continued, clearly not put off by Frankie’s lack of trying at keeping up the conversation. “Young face, pity for the grays–I mean, she could always dye it,” he shrugged, before grinning and elbowing Frankie in the side, making him turn fully towards him, his lips pressed in a thin line as he inhaled deeply. “Although I’m sure she makes up for it plenty in–”

“Listen, Nicky–” he exhaled sharply, the sentence dying on his lips when he felt a hand brush up his back, from the lower side up–his shoulders sagged slightly, leaning towards Camila’s touch as she settled at his side.

“Sorry,” soft-voiced, she pulled his cousin’s perplexed gaze towards her, too. “I need to borrow Frankie for a moment–Alba spilled some juice on my dress and I could really use the help before it stains.”

“Oh, of course,” Nic cleared his throat, stepping back, his gaze flickering from one to the other–shy, all of a sudden. Frankie almost rolled his eyes, held in check only by Camila’s hand sliding into his, gently pulling him along.

“Alba wasn’t drinking anything,” he murmured, his head bowed slightly as they walked back inside the house. She shrugged lightly, then looked over her shoulder as she smiled–quick and amused, making him scoff. “Mila–”

“Just come with me for a moment,” she retorted before he could finish forming the protest. “Alba’s with Santiago and your mom, it’s alright,” she added as he went to speak again, walking past the kitchen and living room.

“I’m still not sure why he’s here,” Frankie muttered, making her chuckle and pull him slightly closer as she reached the stairs–he placed the glass on the closest surface at hand.

“According to him, he’s included in the family for the family reunion,” he got closer each step, his now free hand coming up to brush her hip. “Don’t get ideas, Morales,” she added, giving a delicate slap to the back of his hand.

“You’re the one getting me away from the rest of them,” he retorted as she pulled them both inside the bathroom–to which he arched an eyebrow, as if that was proof of his point even before she turned the key. “Really difficult to not get any ideas now,” Camila laughed, shaking her head before turning fully to face him, eyebrows slightly arched. “What?”

“Out with it,” she said simply, resting her hands on the countertop of the sink behind her back. Frankie frowned slightly, stepping closer again–she tipped her chin up to look at him, her gaze soft.

“With what?”

“You’ve been jumpy all day,” she told him, voice as soft as her eyes, and he wondered if he was truly that obvious or she simply knew him so well. “Your family is not so bad, you know? I mean, Nicky is–” she let the sentence hang, mouth turned in a grimace.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he sighed, and she shifted the weight on one hand to reach for his face with the other, cupping his cheek.

“You don’t have to apologize, honey,” she hummed, thumb brushing along the apple of his cheek, warm from the sun. “I like them–by now somebody in my family would’ve started a fight for sure,” she added with a quick grin that made him scoff out a laugh, gaze lowered. “But they’ve all been nice,” he must’ve tensed up again, because she tilted her head to try and meet his gaze. “Is that it?”

“No, it’s–I’m glad they are, it’s just–” her hand moved down across his cheek and jaw, pushing underneath his chin to get him to look up at last. “It’s nothing. Nicky said some shit, and he talked about me having an actual girlfriend or something,” he scoffed, gaze darting away and back–behind her, he saw their reflection in the mirror, her hair shifting with the movement of both her arms shifting up.

“Frankie, sweetheart,” her words carried her soft smile as she took his cap off, putting it aside because she held his face in her hands, looking at him with such tenderness in her eyes he almost crumbled in front of her, hands twitching at his sides. “So what?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned softly, eyes shut for a longer moment before letting out a long sigh. “We just never discussed it, and people keep bringing it up, and I didn’t want to pressure you or–” when he looked at her again, her lips were parted, brows knitted tightly with perplexity as he repeated, “I don’t know.”

“Pressure me?” her confusion bled into her voice, her touch getting a little hesitant for a moment–if he were to look past her head and into the mirror, Frankie would register the guilt in his gaze. Instead, he only noticed the realization dawn in her eyes. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry–I kept thinking I would bring it up and then never did and I was worried it would be too much, or too early,” he shifted back a little, her hands falling to his shoulders.

“Wait, so this is because he called me your girlfriend?” she asked, a little baffled. At his little nod, a quick laugh escaped her, and she pushed herself towards him. “Frankie, honey, we’ve lived together for two months,” she smiled as she said it.

“I know,” she locked her hands behind his neck, pulling him slightly closer in the process, fingertips pushing at the nape of his neck. “I just didn’t want to assume,” she laughed again, a little louder, and Frankie frowned once more, pouting slightly. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not, I promise I’m not,” she said quickly, getting herself closer, though still laughing. “I’m sorry, just–I thought there was nothing to discuss. You’re it for me?”

“You–” he was still frowning, a little deeper, and she let one hand move from the back of his head up across his face, gently kneading the spot between his eyebrows where lines were etched. “You’re still laughing. Camila–”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, unable to help herself as she shook her head through the laughter turned giggles, shifting her body weight so she was leaning against his chest. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, keeping her upright and ducking his chin to keep his gaze on her face, the lines at the corner of her eyes deepening as her smile widened. “Why would you worry about that, honey?”

“You told me you thought you’d jumped in too fast with that guy,” he’d been that guy for months now, no longer Jason–Camila found some amusement in it, her nose scrunching up.

“I did,” she nodded, bringing a hand to his chest while the other still cupped the back of his head. “But you’re not him, and I’m no longer 20-something, so I’d like to think I’ve wised up,” Frankie sighed, carefully lowering his head towards her. “Then again, I’ve moved in with you after–what, eight months? So maybe–”

“Mila,” he groaned in half-complaint, making her laugh again before she tipped her chin up, kissing him in full. He sighed again, the tension in his back melting away as her fingers brushed through his hair, the other palm pressed firmly against his heart.

When she didn’t pull back, Frankie’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him and straightening his back to sweep her off her feet, taking the half step that separated them from the countertop to sit her there–he slotted himself between her legs, her back arching slightly as her lips parted for his tongue.

He kissed and kissed and kissed her until the rest of the world blurred away, until there was no Nicky or Jason, no Santi nor the rest of his family, just the two of them tangled together, sharing soft breaths and touches and the only thing grounding him was the weight of her against him, the shift of her body as he let his hands wandered back and thighs and legs, right underneath her dress.

“Are you gonna ask me, then?” she breathed out once they parted, heavy breaths from both of them and Frankie’s vision blurry for just a moment as he chased her, interrupted only by her soft words, the hint of laughter in them.

“What?” he licked his lips as if trying to cling onto the taste of her, fingers digging into her flesh. Her cheeks were red, bruised lips as she looked up at him while it all came back into vision for Frankie. “Is it–official?” her smile turned into a snort at the uncertainty in his tone, a shimmer in her eyes to highlight her amusement.

“You can do better than that, Francisco,” she murmured, mockingly, and he huffed out a breath as his lips quivered in a semi-pout. Camila leaned forward, kissing it away, but before he could chase her again she pulled back abruptly–one hand on his chest, the other falling behind her over the counter to support herself.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he scoffed, letting his hands travel a little up across her skin, the skirt of her dress bunching up with the movement.

“Maybe,” she said with a light shrug, letting her hand travel down across his torso, lingering on each button–just teasing to undo them, Frankie’s eyes following the movement as his own fingers moved up and up. “You know what I’m going to say,” she murmured then, the tip of her first and middle finger hooking in his belt and pulling him forward ever so slightly, “ask.”

“I don’t need to ask,” he lowered his head towards hers, hooking his fingers at each side of her underwear–she squeezed her knees at his sides, humming softly as he pulled. “Do I?”

“Ask,” she repeated, lips still curved in an amused smile.

“Camila,” uttered as a warning before he kissed her again, a little harsher than before, almost feverish, pulling and pulling at her underwear that wouldn’t shift.

He could feel the laughter bubbling in her throat as she pushed against his lower stomach to make him step back, hopping down the counter to bare her lower half–Frankie kept his hands on her legs, her dress bunched up between the two of them, and slowly began lowering himself, ready to shift onto his knees in front of her.

“We don’t have time,” she mumbled against his lips, swiftly undoing his belt. “Later. Home.”

“Did you not tell me to not get any ideas?” his mocking question ended with a groan when she cupped her hand to his front, stroking his already half-hard length from above his briefs–his hips twitched into her touch, and he felt the grin forming on her lips at his immediate reaction.

“Ask me,” she replied instead, stroking him again.

Again, and again, until he was panting in her mouth, hips bucking with each movement–Frankie kissed her one more time before turning her around, her hands coming down against the counter for balance as he gently kicked her legs apart to slot himself closer, his still clothed front pressed against her back.

“I don’t have to ask,” he repeated, punctuating each word with a kiss to her neck, one hand to her hip as the other bared himself. Camila’s reflection smiled in the mirror, her head ducked as if hiding herself but not quite, as he pushed the tip of his length against the seam of her folds. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?” he murmured then against the shell of her ear.

Before she could form a response, her mouth fell open as he nudged at her entrance, slowly–agonizingly slow–starting to push into her. Her eyes rolled back and she nodded, soft gasps leaving her as she gripped the countertop, both of Frankie’s hands now on her hips, guiding her back to meet him.

“Look at you,” his gaze remained glued to the mirror as she tilted her head back towards him–her eyelids fluttered a moment, trying and failing to focus on their reflections as he kept going. “My beautiful girl,” another kiss to her neck, right behind her ear, making her shudder and rock her hips back. With a groan, his front pressed to her back as he sank fully inside her, he spoke against her shoulder, “mine.”

“’Course I am,” she panted, her thighs trembling slightly against his. “Yours,” at the word,  Frankie’s cock twitched, his grip on her hips tightening. “God–Frankie,” she moaned, back arching as her walls fluttered around him.

“Baby, you gotta keep quiet,” he mumbled, pushing forward so her hips were against the countertop, and he was leaning against her in turn. One arm wrapped around her middle to keep her flush to him, he let his other hand wander up across her torso, the fabric of her dress wrinkling underneath his touch.

“Thought you liked it when you could hear me,” her gaze flickered over their reflections, down to his rising hand and up to meet his eyes, a flush spreading from her heaving chest up and her lips slightly parted.

“Yes,” he shifted back, the slow drag of his length as he pulled out almost all the way making her breath quicken. “When I–” he snapped his hips forward, and Camila bit down onto her lip to keep herself from crying out, knuckles turning white as she gripped the counter a little harder, “can. Not the rest of the family.”

“We wouldn’t be here if that were a problem,” each word felt like it was punched out of her chest, Frankie’s movements steady, hitting a spot deep inside of her that had her vision wavering. “You enjoy the thrill, Francisco,” she added–not a question, rather her ability to read him so perfectly laid out in a tease.

And he did–he liked his life, his new one, with no drugs and very little alcohol, a steady, almost boring job, a home with the two halves of his heart, a bed with hogged blankets and slow nights. He loved that life–but sometimes he missed the rush, and Camila seemed to know exactly when he felt like he was starting to waver. Exactly what to do about it so that he wouldn’t topple over again, returning back to her each time.

“Fuck–don’t stop, don’t stop,” he’d gotten so lucky. He was so goddamn lucky.

The hand that had been traveling up her body moved up again, grabbing her by the chin to turn her head so that he could kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her, swallowing each sound away as he picked up his pace, his hips snapping against her skin almost too loudly–and only spurring him further.

A shiver ran through her as Frankie stopped with one last thrust, his head falling into the crook of her neck as he came–he tightened his hold around her, keeping her flush to his front. Her walls fluttered around his length buried deep within her, a weak, frustrated cry leaving her at his sudden stillness–he breathed out a quiet laugh before pulling his head up, chin hooked over her shoulder as he brought two fingers to his mouth, coating his fingertips before reaching for the apex of her core.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” Camila’s pupils were wide, eyes glazed over as she let her head loll back and sighed at his perhaps-too-delicate initial touch. Each of Frankie’s words was accompanied by a soft kiss across her skin–cheek and jaw and neck, his gaze never leaving her face as he began drawing quick circles over her clit.

“Frankie,” with a breathless cry, she grasped at his arm still wrapped around her, holding her upright. He kissed her neck, humming at her sharp intakes of air with each of his movements.

“I know,” he could feel her muscles grow taut under his touch, her thighs shaking as she got closer and closer–he groaned when she squeezed around his length, sensitive and softening as she tethered the edge. “Come on, baby, I can feel you–so good, you feel so good, baby, you–”

Camila twisted her neck and kissed him abruptly, harsh and trembling as her orgasm rippled through her–she quietened herself, the loud moan muffled by Frankie’s own bruised lips. He drank the noise greedily, slowing down the movement of his fingers until she twitched in his hold and dug her fingernails into the arm she was holding onto, a weak whine as she went limp into his hold.

He pulled out slowly, another softer moan escaping her as she folded forward, hands coming down to the countertop with a shaky exhale and equally shaky arms. His gaze remained low a moment longer, following the slow trail of their combined releases dripping down her thighs, and then he bowed down, kissed the space between her shoulders softly from above her dress.

“You alright?” he spoke softly, hands rubbing soothing circles on her bare hips as she evened her breathing, head hanging forward. She hummed quietly, rolling her shoulders back.

“I just need a minute,” she nodded, bringing her head upright again and wincing slightly. “Jesus–maybe two minutes,” she sighed, and Frankie chuckled softly, another kiss pressed against her shoulder as he tucked himself back in.

“Turn around,” he guided her by the hips tenderly, meeting her eyes for a brief moment in the mirror. “Let me clean you up.”

She hummed softly as she let him move her, leaning back again with her hands on the counter, her breath now even as Frankie recovered a clean towel from underneath the sink, turning on the water and waiting for it to turn lukewarm. Camila’s eyes remained on him as he moved, eyelids low and a tired half smile stretching across her lips.

He sank to the floor in front of her, gently brushing the towel up between her thighs, one hand on her calf rubbing circles with his thumb again against her skin, gentle and soothing. He helped her get dressed back up, smoothing down the skirt of her dress and pressing one last kiss to her now clothed hip before standing back up, mere inches from her.

“Promise me something,” she wrapped her arms around his middle, threading her arms underneath his. Frankie lowered his gaze to her still slightly flushed face, a small frown crossing his brow. “You’re gonna ask me whatever it is that crosses your mind, anything you want to–even if it’s something as banal as is my hair alright,” her fingers curled against his back, gently bringing him closer.

Frankie sighed, cupping her jaw in his hands before nodding–small movements, getting closer to leave a delicate peck against her lips.

“Promise,” he conceded, voice a little hoarse as he kept it low. “We should head back–you okay?” she nodded, mimicking his quick kiss before detangling herself from him and stepping aside, reaching for the door. “Wait, Mila,” he caught her hand as she unlocked the door, her gaze a little perplexed when she turned back around. “Is my hair alright?”

Camila laughed, a light roll of her eyes as she reached for the cap left on the countertop, putting it back on his head and pulling it low over his brow–he grinned in return, tipping his head back to keep his gaze on her.

“Better,” she nodded, wrinkling her nose before opening the door.

He pulled her under his arm once they were into the corridor, fixing his cap as she wrapped one of her arms around him again, bumping her hip with his while they stepped forward–and stopped at the stairs creaking, Santi’s head popping up with a deep frown that vanished as soon as he saw them.

“Ah, there you are–Alba’s been asking for you,” the other man said, looking at Camila, then made a face, somewhere between a pout and a grimace, muttering, “for some reason. Also, is it me or has Nicky gotten worse?” this he asked Frankie, his expression turning into a full scowl. His gaze then darted from one to the other, still tangled together, and surely somewhat guilty-looking–Camila’s face was still reddened, Frankie’s shirt slightly wrinkled, their hair just about messed up. Santi groaned, full on rolling his eyes. “Seriously? Gross.”

Camila laughed, loud and amused, leaving a rapid kiss to Frankie’s shoulder before sliding from under his arm, keeping her own open as she advanced towards Santi.

“Come here,” she said at his mock disdain, reaching for him. “Come on, Garcia–give me a kiss.”

“No, I don’t know where that mouth has been,” he argued, trying to step away and back down the stairs. Camila all but leaped for him, laughing again and throwing her arms around him–he quickly got his arms around her, too, keeping them both upright with a huff of protest as she smacked a kiss against his cheek. “Fish, will you keep your girlfriend in check?”

Frankie just watched them, the quick, purposefully sloppy kisses she peppered across his face from the upper step, his twisted expression as he tried to pull away but couldn’t make a move–they both knew it was an over-dramatization on Pope’s part, that he’d been basking in the affection Camila reserved for them all.

With one last kiss to Santi’s forehead–loud and possibly even sloppier, making him groan in protest–she skipped away with a laugh and a gentle pinch to his arm, one last glance in Frankie’s direction from above her shoulder with a wide grin across her reddened cheeks before walking down the stairs.

“What, no not my girlfriend?” Santi muttered, running a hand across his face before looking back up at Frankie–his gaze somewhat lost towards where Camila had gone.

“No, not this time, actually,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Oh, thank God,” Santi exclaimed, lifting his hands. “Seriously, fucking finally!”

Frankie had gotten used to sleeping as close to Camila as he could get–whether she was curled up in his arms, her back pressed against his front, or her body draped across his, it was rare for them to roll on opposite sides of the bed.

Mostly because she still hogged most of the covers, and Frankie would wake up in the middle of the night with half of himself exposed to the room, and she would then complain his hands were cold when he sought out her warmth.

He didn’t mind it one bit–each excuse he could find to feel her skin under his hands, to wake up and know she was still there, would be enough to make him withstand anything.

And he always woke up first, taking a few moments before her alarm would go off to look at her sleeping, relaxed face, hair braided back and away, eyelids trembling as she seemed to be following her dreams, lips slightly parted to let out soft huffs of air–he would pepper her skin in quick, delicate kisses as soon as she turned off the alarm, tightening his arms around her.

But the alarm didn’t sound that morning, and when he glanced over her shoulder to where the clock was he sat up so quickly the whole room spun, dragging the covers with him before turning towards the already curling up woman, her face twisting in a still-asleep frown.

“Mila, we overslept,” he called, gently shaking her by the shoulder. She groaned softly, burying her face into the pillow. “Mila,” he tried again, and she turned in his direction.

“You overslept,” she protested, bringing a hand up to rub her eyes. “I have the day off,” she added in a mumble, head heavy on the pillow and exposing the sleep lines on her opposite side of the face. “Did you not set an alarm again?”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, leaning in to press his lips to hers as he brought the covers back up over her while simultaneously sliding off the bed. “I didn't–you know I usually rely on you.”

“And that is twice you’ve made that mistake,” she mumbled, her eyelids drooping again, ever so slowly. Frankie scoffed, quick steps around the room as he searched blindly for some clothes. “I’ll take Alba to daycare, it’s alright.”

“Are you sure? You can go back to sleep,” he was still rummaging through the closet as he spoke, and suddenly the light was on and he could see the shirts hanging in front of him.

“I’m up already,” Camila groaned softly, and turning around he saw her sitting up, rubbing at her eyes again as she suppressed a yawn. Frankie’s expression softened as she kicked her legs off the bed, lingering there a moment with her head tilted forward slightly. “Go finish getting ready, I’ll make us some coffee.”

Frankie grabbed a shirt before turning around, padding across the room to reach her–he tipped her head back gently, hooking one finger underneath her chin before kissing her. Camila hummed softly, her eyelids fluttering open and shut and open again when he pulled back, thumb brushing along her jaw.

“See? I knew it’d be convenient for you to move in,” she snorted at his grinning remark, pushing him back with both her hands on his chest before getting up the bed, stretching as Frankie kissed her again, lips just at the corner of her mouth.

He passed by the living room once he was dressed, Alba sitting on the couch with her morning cartoons playing, hair still ruffled by the night–her breakfast was waiting on the coffee table, along with Camila’s empty mug.

“Morning, nena,” he murmured, placing a kiss to the top of her head. The child moved her legs, bouncing her feet and smiling and looking up at her dad. “Are you waiting for Mila?”

“Ma!” voice laced with sleep, Alba nodded, eyes squinting as she smiled. Frankie chuckled, ruffling her hair before heading towards the kitchen, leaving her to the images on the screen.

It was a new development, ma–an imitation of Frankie, of possibly the other children at daycare. The beginning of a word that signified much more for them both. The three of them, actually. Frankie’s doubts had dwindled with one single word, and he had started to tell her truly what went through his mind (almost everything).

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he murmured as he walked up to her at the sink, one hand falling to her hip as he reached for the travel mug she was already offering him with the other. She smiled in the reflection of the mirror, taking the moka pot from the turned off stove. “I’ll set an alarm next time, I promise.”

“Heard that one before,” she chuckled, bumping her shoulder into his front as she gently leaned back into his half-hazarded embrace. “Go on now, before you’re late.”

“Thank you,” he kissed the curve of her neck–a peck, really, quick and non-committal. “I love you,” he added then, stepping back.

Camila’s head straightened abruptly, the sleep seemingly still clinging to her leaving her all of a sudden, and in the reflection he saw her eyes widen ever so slightly.

He told her almost everything.

Until that moment. He wasn’t sure he’d fully woken up just yet.

“Alright, bye,” he said just as quickly, a little louder, walking away before she could even begin turning around. Alba babbled for him from the couch and he went on, holding his breath through the corridor and entrance, down the steps and across the front yard until he reached the car.

Only then did he exhale, heavy and almost too loud as he leaned his head forward towards the steering wheel, almost hitting his forehead to the honk in the process, a soft groan abandoning him. I love you. Alright, bye.

“For fuck’s sake–” he muttered, bumping his head against the wheel again. “Alright, bye?” he grimaced. He jumped in his seat at the quick knocking against the window, pulling his head straight quickly and turning around, gripping the mug tighter to not topple it. “What–”

Camila stood next to the car, hair wild around her now that it was unbraided as she gestured at him to lower the window, bouncing ever so slightly on the spot. With a slight frown he did as she asked, and before he could form the question she was leaning into the car, grabbing him by the collar of the shirt to pull him closer and kiss him.

Frankie’s body relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut as he shifted in the seat and brought his free hand to her shoulder–he could feel her lean closer and closer, her torso sticking inside the car as she used his shirt as leverage and kissed him, kissed him, kissed him.

“I love you too,” she gasped, pulling back. Though his gaze was unfocused and he felt slightly breathless, dizzy, he managed to make out the shape of her body draped over the car door, legs dangling and the shirt of her pajama riding slightly across her back. “I thought you heard me already–a while ago.”

“What while ago?” he muttered, still a little dazed. He would think about her smile for the rest of the day, distracted out of his mind.

“I was talking with Alba, she couldn’t sleep,” the tip of her thumb brushed the side of his neck, right where his pulse was stuttering rapidly. “Telling her how much you love her–and I love her, and you,” she murmured, still leaning close, the tip of her nose almost brushing his.

“Well you didn’t tell me,” he could feel the pout on his mouth that seemed to only pull her smile wider. “I just thought–” she kissed him quickly this time, pulling back before he could register it, return it.

“Always a bad idea, honey,” she quipped, her eyes shimmering ever so slightly. “I told you, Frankie–you can tell me anything. Everything.”

“I know,” he sighed with mock defeat, leaning towards her until he was the one resting against the car door and she could touch the ground again, his head sticking out of the window. “Everything?” he asked then, looking up at her once she straightened.

“Yes,” she let her hand shift so it was cupping his jaw, thumb pushing gently into his cheek.

“You keep stealing the covers,” he whispered it, like it was a secret, and after the moment of initial shock Camila laughed. As she laughed, he turned his head to kiss her wrist, the heel of her hand, her palm, words murmured against the soft skin there– “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she repeated–she’d repeat it over and over from then on, whispered close to his ear or shouted from across the house when either one or the other left for the day, mumbled before falling asleep and just awoke. It’d always have the same effect on Frankie. “But I’m cold, so I’m not giving up the covers.”

“I know you’re not,” he chuckled, taking her hand in his to turn it around and kiss her knuckles, too. “I’ll just have to stick close, then.”

She hummed in assent, squeezing his hand in hers before leaning one last time, the kiss too brief for both their tastes–if it were up to them, that’d be where they’d spend the whole day, just as close to each other as they could get.

“I’ll see you later,” she said instead.

Frankie remained in the driveway a moment longer, watching as she ran back inside–still barefoot, a light skip in her step, and one last look over her shoulder towards him.

next

[godtier]

Real question, but would it really be a problem to be identified? I mean, if someone manages to find me, why would that be particularly annoying?

i'm SUPER LATE answering this, sorry. i have been dealing with a lot IRL. and sorry this became sort of long.

but to answer the question: i would say that the way i'd look at it is the consequences not just being "annoying" but also potentially unsafe.

let's say someone comes to you in DM to "inform" you that someone you're following is doing something "problematic." maybe they're drawing fanart of a ship from a shounen manga (many of which have a main cast of high schoolers, such as bleach or naruto). maybe you respond to the DM by saying "i don't care really." if that person who sent the initial message was feeling particularly "justified," they might attempt to dig up information about you.

let's say you're easy to identify and it's simple to link your account to your IRL information. using this information, this person could look up where you work, where you go to school, your address, your family members or friends, etc.

and since doxing and IRL harassment is so pervasive in the name of "enacting justice" online, this person could then, say, send messages to your boss accusing you of being a pedo or some shit. these fandom warriors will twist the narrative to make you sound like you're participating in CP or something of that nature when it's just anime/manga characters. suddenly this isn't just "annoying," but detrimental to your livelihood and reputation. it's also potentially humiliating and stressful if you have to now explain to your boss or your mother why they're getting calls or facebook messages about you being a pedo freak from randoms online.

and it doesn't even have to be "problematic" ship shit. it could be something like interacting with someone who once said the n-word 15 years ago. it could be leaving a like on a drawing and not even commenting on it. it could be reblogging or retweeting a post from a company or entity that engages with problematic things. it could be nothing at all. and it doesn't always have to end in your mother or boss getting involved. they could just start sending your harassing texts or messages or signing your email or mailing address up for spam.

it doesn't actually matter what you do online as far as engagement, whether fandom-related or otherwise, because people online are so detached from reality nowadays that they don't realize or make the connection that the people they're harassing are real. they also have so little by way of opposition in their interactions both online and offline that they oftentimes react far beyond a normal response to the smallest bit of dissent. having constant positive feedback is detrimental to social development, and most young people online have experienced nothing but positive feedback in the circles they run in. they just don't know how to handle anything else so they melt down.

and because the people they harass are The Enemy, they strip all humanity from their "target" to justify their actions. people will harass anyone over anything, and with the heated political debates and "discussions" going on recently, it's just not safe to identify yourself to strangers online in a way that could compromise your safety.

it's all relative. if you're just posting pictures of wildlife and not participating in discussions online, you'd probably be fine to post your real name. many photographers do this for online portfolio reasons, anyway. but if you routinely get involved in any online discourse, it's just not a safe environment to reveal your identity in any way whatsoever.

i'll put it this way to wrap it up: if you're having a casual, one-off chat with a stranger in line at starbucks, would you let them know what your phone number, address, surname, or email address was? probably not. you don't know how crazy they could be, right? and it's just a casual chat. first-name basis is usually fine, especially if your name is particularly common. you may not even give a name at all. that's what i mean. online interactions should be treated like a casual chat in line at starbucks. there's no need to have your entire library of PII on display at all times. shielding that information protects you from harassment and scams, and that's the bottom line.