#TO BE CLEAR. this is not a self harming thing

[halyasgirl]

One thing I loved in season 7 is the reexamination of the Moonshadow Assassins’ oaths, culminating in Rayla preparing to give her heart (Callum) for Xadia, both of them with full understanding of the compromise and sacrifice they’re willing to make to save their world.

But I also want to highlight the reexamination of Runaan’s oath. During the original bloodribbon binding in season 1, the assassins offer up vital parts of themselves for the ideals they believe they kill for, the self-sacrifice element clear in their pledges. At first, Runaan does not appear to swear an oath himself, only officiate the ritual. But at second glance, his oath is actually the most severe: "Tonight we bind our lives to justice." Symbolically, Runaan has given up his life, and the lives of every participant in his ritual, until their mission is completed. If they cannot secure (vengeful, bloody) justice, their lives are forfeit.

But Runaan’s view of justice, and his own life, shifts with his character development. What kind of justice requires its executor to give up all they are and symbolically enter into a state of death? And what have they done, when they completely dissociate from their moral compass in service of their mission? When Runaan comes face to face with the harm he’s done, for the first time, he’s shocked. But after he reflects, realizes all the pain he’s caused, he’s remorseful, and with the support of his loved ones, he tries to make amends.

Runaan returns to Katolis not because he had to, but because he chose to. Justice will not be denied and Runaan never breaks his promises. But this is a different justice than he brought before. He offers his life, not as an agent of death, but a living, breathing person who loves and is loved. And that offer means so much more now that both he and Ezran truly understand how valuable life is.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Fallen Snow AU, Chapter One, Fossilized Memories:

(Warning: This fic contains dark themes such as abuse, neglect, self-harm, mentioned/contemplated su*cide attempt, sedation, creepy fluff, and platonic yanderes. You have been warned...)

If you're being honest with yourself, you don't remember most of your childhood.

If you're being honest with yourself, you don't want to remember most of your childhood.

Everyone has their reasons to forget things or to ignore them. You have yours. Yet late at night, or early in the pre-dawn hours, it sometimes comes to haunt you.

It's not an easy ghost to be rid of. There's several you'd rather never think of again. But the nightmares... For thr last four years, those nightmares have kept you awake. They've made you scream, cry, shake, even stay awake just to avoid having to go through them again and again. It was too much. It was always too much.

They didn't happen once a month, or once a week, or every few days. It was every. Night. For months now. And you were at your rope's end.

So thats why you're here, in a small diner at the edge of town, trying to drown your sorrows and your sleepiness with coffee and eggs. Coffee burned your tongue and kept you awake; eggs fsatiated the hunger that always gnawed at your insides, that restless pain that clawed at your guts and bit at your ribs. It was just the way it was. You didn't ask to be born with the X gene, and you didn't ask to be a mutant.

Of course you're a mutant. Couldn't be something normal like a student or an assistant or a librarian or a baker. No. You just had to be the one in a thousand person who has some weird power and is universally hated by most humans.

But you'd made it work for you, these last four years. People in a small town don't trust strangers, no... but when that stranger takes any kind of pay, doesn't ask questions, and does some hunting for you and yours... well, they tend to not throw that person out, odd or young or strange as they may be. The town isn't all that bad. It's small, nestled in the snowy clearing between the endless woods and the long, thin road, but it kept its secrets and kept yours, too. The prey here was plentiful enough, the place was fairly quiet, and as far as anyone could tell, you were the only "odd one" around for miles. It was a win-win.

It wasn't hard spending most of your time alone out on errands. The woods offered quiet respite; the lake offered fish; the town offered some company; and your old cabin, nestled in deeper in the forest, offered you relief from the cold and the snow and when people were too much.

The cabin was nice enough. A few boarded windows, the rest draped over with blankets or rugs or drapes, a wooden floor that squeaked when you moved, an old fireplace that kept the place warm, and the old couch you'd found, covered in a nest of blankets and pillows, as close as you could get it to the heat of the fire. It wasn't much, but it was your home, your refuge, and it was all you had.

It was better than what was before it, and that was what mattered...

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

You don't know why you decided to get involved when some strange kid wandered into town.

The people here weren't being very open or friendly, even less so to them than they were at first to you. Them being some poor kid covered in a jacket, with blue hair and odd yellow eyes, and currently trying to find anywhere to go to wait out the snowstorm approaching.

"Please... I just need a place to stay for a few hours. I v'ont be here any longer than that. Just to vait out thr storm... please..."

Maybe it's the way he's curling in on himself. Maybe it's the sad, desperate tone in his voice. Maybe you're just tired of being out here yourself.

"He can stay with me... I'll keep him out of trouble," you mutter, pushing forward to glower at the crowd, then at the kid. You sigh, but offer a hand.

You're surprised when he takes it.

You don't show it.

"Come on, my cabin isn't too far. Any broken windows are covered, and I can get a fire started so we don't freeze to death," you grumble as you both trek through the snowy forest floor. The air is clean here, the cold stinging your lungs and the wind biting at your hands and face. The kid doesn't seem quite as bothered, but considering he's a little more covered than you, maybe he's just more cold natured.

When the cabin peeks through the flurry and trees, you drag him along, being careful not trip over the wooden steps or slipping on the icy boards. The moment the door opens, he's inside, shivering and shaking like a dog to get the snow off himself. You snort, but leave him be.

Setting some dry, dead wood in the fireplace, you strike a match, then toss it in. You barely smile at the scent of fresh woodsmoke and the soothing crackle of the flames. You turn sharply when you hear your guest clear his throat.

"Um... thank you... That vas... very kind of you," he says quietly, rubbing his shoulder. You nod, not saying a word. You feel a small teinge when he sits on the cold floor, and find yourself going over to the couch. You drag off a larger pillow and a few blankets, then toss them over him. He yelps, and you can't help but smirk a little.

"Vhat? Vhy'd you do that!"

"You're cold. You need to stay warm. Sit on the cushion, and drape the blankets around you. If you stay lioe that and stay close to the fire, you'll be toasty as a marshmallow in no time," you explain. You gesture at him to move closer to fire, then flop onto the couch. You don't wrap up in your nest, but you lay there, keeping an eye on the kid and the burning wood.

He doesn't look like he's dangerous. No claws, no fangs, nothing out of the ordinary. He's certainly not bigger than you. And as far as you can tell, he's not hostile or sinister. So as far as you're concerned, he's not a problem.

It becomes a problem when he starts talking to you.

"So... are you alone here? It's very quiet," he asks. You narrow your eyes, but answer.

"Eh... it's not a problem."

"But..." He looks upset for a moment, but quickly changes his expression. "Vell... vhat is it like around here? It seems very cold."

You let out a dry laugh at that. "Yep. Cold, freezing, unfriendly. It's normal. Not any worse than anywhere else I've seen."

That doesn't reassure him. If anything, he looks more worried, like you just told him someone hurt kittens around here or had run over their grandma.

"T-that is so?"

"Yeah... but eh, it's not bad. It just takes awhile to grow on ya," you say uncomfortably. You didn't want to upset him, and now you're worried if this kid is about to cry. "The fish here is great. Plenty of trails to walk, lots of cool animals to see, clean snow and fresh air too."

He nods, looking pensive. He stays silent for a few minutes, but goes back to asking questions after a few minutes.

"Hmmm... does my host have a name?"

"Yeah... it's Reader..." It's been ages since you've said your name, or referred to yourself by it. It feels odd, as though adding a small bit of personhood back to you.

"Reader... So, Reader, vhy are you alone out here?" He means it well, you think.

You sit still for a minute. You don't really talk about what happened... It's never done you any good, and it haunts you every night. Why should you think about it in the day? But... well, a little of the truth can't hurt. (It's not because you're lonely, or hurt, is it?)

"Bad crowd. They didn't like me or want me, so I left." No names said, no blame cast. No one needs to know, no one needs to see.

"Oh..." Is it just you, or does his eyes seem to glisten in the light? "I'm very sorry... you seem very nice..."

Nice? Has anyone ever told you you were nice? Or needed? Or helpful? Or even wanted-

No, no no. Do not go there. Now is not the time.

You think your eyes are glistening a little too now.

"Thanks..." you whisper into the warmed air, falling silent after.

The rest of the evening is quiet, as you both try to stay warm and curl in the blankets. You end up going through your rations to give him some jerky, and eventually drift off after hearing him recite some kind of prayer in a different language...

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

When you wake up in the early morning hours, he's gone.

The blankets he borrowed are folded neatly, and stacked on the pillow you gave him. There's no trace of his jacket either. When you exit the home to look for him, you find a few tracks... but then they disappear, as though he vanished into thin air. The scent of sulphur wrinkles your nose, but otherwise... no clue to where he went.

You try not to let it bother you, but in the end, you can't help but worry for the poor kid... maybe wherever he is, someone's watching out for him... maybe they love him, and are taking care of him now that he's not here...

With that, you decide to go to go on a walk... maybe the icy winds will keep you awake, and keeps your fears at bay...

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Kurt was happy to be back home. Of course he was! His friends had missed him, so had his pack and his mother and sister and their family. But well... he was worried for his new friend... They weren't in a good place to stay. They were in a cold, lonely town. And they had no one with them, to care for them, to help them or keep them safe or warm...

It didn't sit right with him. It didn't sit right with him at all.

But he didn't even know where to go to find them again, or how to help them.

It took a week before he discovered something odd.

He'd never noticed it before, but there was an old picture hanging in the halls underneath the mansion, the one that led to some of the old sleeping quarters and safety rooms and training halls. Except... well, he knew the faces of his family, of his friends, Scott and Jean and Rogue, Wanda and Pietro and Evan, even Storm and Logan and Victor and Mr. Lehnsherr and the Professor... but there, nestled in the photos as well, was a face he also recognized... a younger version of thr same person he'd only met a week ago... Reader...

And now, he needed to ask the adults a question.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

@hermesserpent-stuff @sugar-soda @vivid-bun @danniloversugar @thewickedweiner

[grapejuice32]

Always Would

Soft!Rafe x Reader Warnings: dissociation, allusions to self harm/mention of scars, reader dissociates + reader struggles to eat?

Notes: just wanted to say that this is only based off of my own personal experiences with dissociation and all of the topics explored in this. This is not a clear example of dissociation in general as everyones experiences are different. Take care of yourself bbys, don't read it if its triggering and my messages are open always!

You'd been staring at the wall blankly for nearly three hours now, doing nothing but listening to the music playing in your headphones and he wasn't sure you were even really listening to it, he assumes you were using it as your own sort of white noise. He was concerned. You had a tendency to fall into a dissociative state and sometimes it could last for minutes, other times it could last for hours. During this time you were usually slow to respond to anything, often doing and saying things which you would have no awareness or clear recollection of, and when it was a severe episode of dissociation, you tended to do what you were doing now. Nothing.

"Baby?" He spoke softly, crouching down in front of where you lay in bed as he combed a hand through your hair. It took a few seconds but your eyes slowly shifted from the wall to look up at him but it didn't look to him like you were registering very much of what he had been softly mumbling. A sad smile lined his lips as he stopped running his hand through your hair to gently pull your headphones off and help you sit up. The usual spark in your eyes shielded by a dazed, spaced out one. He pushed the sleeves of your jumper up to your elbows and let his thumb instinctively run along one of the raised scars that lined your wrist. He glanced down at your wrists and then back up to your face before asking, " 've you done anything', baby?" No judgement or anger in his tone, just concern.

A frown of confusion grew on your face and you shook your head unsurely, "No I did-I, no I don- I didn't," you responded, stumbling over your airily spoken words, "Don' think so." You finished in a distressed whisper, not sure if you had or hadn't.

Rafe nodded and mumbled and calm, 'okay, baby', before he proceeded to pull your (his) jumper off of you, leaving you in a tank top so he could check both your arms fully. It's not that he didn't trust you, he did, it was that there had been occasions where you had done things and remained completely unaware of your actions until either Rafe had noticed or your mind had cleared from its dissociative state.

After checking your arms and seeing them clear of any recent wounds, a sigh of relief fell from his lips and he placed a kiss to your temple. "C'mon, 'm gonna make you something' small to eat," he began as he helped you stand from your shared bed, taking your hand in his larger one as he lead you downstairs and into the kitchen, glancing back at you in time to catch you shaking your head, "jus' a little snack. Know your head's still feeling' fuzzy but try and eat something' f'me, yeah?"

You weren't sure what happened in the moments between him lifting you to sit on the kitchen counter and him handing you a bowl of chopped fruits. After a lot of coaxing on his part, you ate about half of the fruits and it admittedly helped ground a you a bit, "Jus' have one more f'me," you heard him speak, sounding a lot clearer now than he had before, but you shook your head and pushed the bowl in his direction causing him to sigh in defeat, "well, jus' drink this then, yeah?" he compromised, handing you a glass of cold water. You drank it quickly, finishing a second glass in record time, not realising how thirsty you had been until he'd encouraged you to drink it.

He helped you off the counter and the both of you walked into the living room, you sat down on the couch and he squatted down in front of you, and now, these were all actions you were becoming slightly more aware of. You felt the light touch of his hands on your knees, vaguely aware of the way they soothingly ran up and down your lower thighs left bare by your shorts, your eyes were on his as you watched him search your face for any signs for well, anything really.

He watched as you became more aware of the way his hands were running up and down your legs and as you began to actually take in his words. He continued this process for a while before it was clear to him that you were clear minded now, "There we go. You did so well, sweetheart. Feelin' a bit better now?"

You nodded and mumbled an embarrassed 'thank you', avoiding looking directly in his eyes.

"Hey," he tutted, one of his hands leaving your thighs to hold your chin and tilt your head up so that you were looking at him again, "none f'that, okay? S' fine, s' nothin' to be embarrassed about, baby. Jus' happens sometimes, s' alright." His hand left your chin and moved to rest on the side of your face, his thumb running along your cheekbone when you began to softly nod along to his words.

The both of you were silent for a while, the only noises being the ruffling of clothes as he moved to sit beside you and pull you into his chest, the kisses he continuously pressed to your head causing a satisfied hum to leave your lips as you whispered, "I love you, so much."

He drew you closer to him, his arms tighter around you as he mumbled into your hair, "I love you more, sweetheart." You weren't always entirely sure why he loved you when he could have any, less troubled person that he wanted, but never did you doubt the love he held for you, not when he took care of you the way he did, the way he always would.

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

[britts-galaxy-brain]

You realize that equating furries to bestality and people who genuinely want to harm animals is literally just obscuring why harming animals is bad right? Like when you say it’s all the same thing to attack Taxxon constantly people see furries and pet play and go “huh if that’s all people are doing and that’s what bestality is then I guess it’s not actually causing harm.” I don’t understand why you are dedicating your life to attacking people who have accidentally done shitty thing at 18 (that they have worked on community repair and harm reduction since) and addressed the gray of complex topics in ways that weren’t always phrased well.

Like can you literally not understand how your bullying and harassment has the potential to actually embolden people causing active and more significant harm? No of course not. Because nothing is gray. You’re the spotless hero rooting out ~evil abuser~. It’s all a black and white world and you’re on the side of good!

I’m a literal victim of pedophiles, largely through online grooming. That doesn’t make me the arbiter on every online situation, where there may have been harm done. That doesn’t mean my behavior in the pursuit of good can’t cause more harm. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t self reflect rather than digging down whenever given the hint of an opportunity.

Lol wait. Have you actually read anything I've said or have you just been listening to retold butchered versions of it??

I'm a furry! I've been a furry for 16 years! Patricia is the one equating furry and therianthropy with beastiality. Hence why I've been making it absolutely clear that zoophiles are NOT welcome in furry or therian spaces, and that equating the two is insulting, dangerous, and something furries and therians have had to deal with enough of over the years.

And no, she hasn't worked on "harm reduction" in the slightest. She's just gotten more manipulative about it.

[snootlestheangel]

I'm just constantly thinking about a Ghost who, post Roba and post losing everything, finds a bunch of different ways to cope.

His biggest struggle was suicide ideation and self harm.

His therapist always encouraging him to "create, not destroy. To make not break, to be productive not destructive."

Its how he picked up baking, why he got so good at it. Same with cooking

He does pottery every now and then. Many of his dishes and stuff at home are things he made during his recovery years.

He never quite picked up painting but he loves spending time at local art galleries and museums. He can spend hours at those places, just letting his head clear.

We all know he has at least some basic sewing skills (cause of the mask) but I feel like it's even deeper than that. He's out there making quilts and shit.

He likes to knit, and dabbles in crochet when he's feeling particularly restless.

I just feel like he's actually so much better at coping than people give him credit for. I like to think he's fully prepared to completely kiss the military goodbye and be left to his own devices as a civilian. I feel like because he's lost so much he's desperately clinging to that little bit of humanity left in him

He's got the quilt his mum tried to make for Tommy and Beth as their wedding gift. He made throw pillows with Joseph's baby blankets. His decor is all stuff his mum would have liked. He likes having handmade things, it's a testament to his abilities and to his determination to keep surviving.

His house is a home, and its such a safe space. It has soft, warm lighting. The rugs are all handmade by Ghost, and they're soft, cozy. It always smells good, like pastries or a lovely pasta dish.

Its so jarring and unexpected for Soap the first time he ever goes home with Ghost on leave.

But there's something about it that is just so humbling. To see this man in a state of domestic bliss, surrounded by years of hard work to not give in, to keep living another day.

And if that doesn't make Soap want to wife Ghost up right then and there, then I don't know what will

[milkoomi]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ a guide to self-love ᝰ.ᐟ

being confident and having self-love can be a difficult and long journey, but once you have it, you feel unstoppable. you feel like that girl, you feel like nothing else matters, you feel like you.

selfies are mine!

let’s begin !!

ᝰ.ᐟ accept yourself as you are

this one doesn’t come easy, but trust me when i say that once you start accepting who you are as you are, loving yourself becomes so much easier. accepting the fact that you are who you are right now will help clear your head to make room for the growth you want to make for yourself. getting that clearer image of who you want to be will come so much faster once you accept who you are right now.

now, accepting yourself doesn’t mean you’re settling for anything. you can still choose to grow and better who you are, but i feel like self-acceptance is the very first step in doing so!

ᝰ.ᐟ start accepting compliments

this is a huge one oh my god. i’ve seen a lot of blogs talk about this, but seriously, accepting compliments makes it so much easier to start accepting yourself! stop denying a compliment when it’s giving you, and even if you don’t feel like that compliment is true, literally force yourself to say “thank you”. the more you say thank you when you’re given a compliment, the more you’ll start to truly believe in them and accept them genuinely!

ᝰ.ᐟ make a list of things you like about yourself

you don’t have to give reasons as to why you like certain things about yourself, but simply making a list of what you like (or even sort of like) about yourself can help put things into perspective for you! these things could be physical traits or aspects of your personality!

once you start feeling a little more comfortable, you could start explaining why you like those certain things about yourself! and when you start writing those reasons why, write about it as if you were writing about someone dear to you!

ᝰ.ᐟ take more pictures of yourself

i know this sounds a little silly, but once i started taking more pictures of myself, my confidence grew! capturing your own beauty and then seeing it for yourself just as your loved ones would is truly an eye opener. you could throw on your favorite makeup look, style your hair how you want to, and put on a super cute outfit and just start snapping away on your camera!

i’d also recommend playing around with different camera angles and poses! find something that compliments you and makes you feel like the best version of you!

ᝰ.ᐟ practice good hygiene

having a good hygiene routine and sticking to it not only makes you feel clean, but also makes you feel refreshed! after a long day, once i shower and go through my whole hygiene routine, i feel like a brand new person. being clean and taking good care of your hygiene can do wonders for your confidence!

come up with a good shower routine! pamper yourself while you shower and treat it as if you’re at a luxury spa. you don’t need high-end products for your showers, just grab stuff that you like and makes you feel good! i have a blog post here that you can reference for some hygiene tips!

choose body scents that you love! i’ve talked briefly about finding your signature scent in this post, but having scents that you love just makes you feel like the baddest bitch. play around and experiment with different body washes, perfumes, lotions, etc.! find something you really love (maybe even obsessed with) and i promise you’ll start feeling so good about yourself!

ᝰ.ᐟ consume media that’s better for you

social media, and any media for that matter, is poisoned with so much toxicity. too many people have had their minds plagued by “beauty standards” and trends that could be harmful in the long run. find and consume media that betters you! whether it’s a book, podcast, or show that increases your knowledge or music, youtubers, or movies that make you feel good; take in different forms of media that are beneficial! you are what you consume!

ᝰ.ᐟ take care of yourself

self care is one of the best things you can do to increase your love for yourself. treat yourself as you would a loved one! you deserve to be cared for just as much as you believe those you love deserve to be!

you can reference this post for some self care examples!

𝜗𝜚 final notes 𝜗𝜚

again, loving yourself can be a really difficult and long journey, but you are worthy of love! especially love that comes from yourself! at the end of the day, you only have yourself, so it’s important to care for yourself and love who you are because you need yourself the most!

i also want to add a few of my favorite blog posts that relate to this topic so here they are!

“the princess guide on glowing up”

“building confidence”

“get over the fear of being seen”

“it-girl’ing 101”

live and love, babe.

sincerely, juno ⭑.ᐟ

[velvetvexations]

TERFs are so bad at making bottom surgery sound bad. Saw one say "--- (read: trans woman "vaginas" and trans man "penises") is something only erotic to a necrophile". Which was obviously intended to be off putting but i dunno I think it sounds kinda metal???. N there's one i just ran into calling neovaginas "axe wounds" which I KNOW is meant as an insult but oh my god it makes them sound so badass to me

lmao it was bad enough I felt compelled to censor it but yeah we're all about reappropriating TERF conceptions of trans people here

I'm white myself but I've been noticing more and more that white trans people have such a victim complex and believe themselves (ourselves) to be the most oppressed group ever. An acquaintance of mine (a famous trans activist) recently said that "trans people are the only people that face hate for how we dress". Like??? what about ethnic and religious minorities??? what about All Women including cis ones??? She also loves using antisemitism as an example of what "could" or "is going to" happen to trans people while treating it as something that was resolved after ww2 and is not very much still rampant

People are drawing swastikas on Synagogues and calling it praxis!

Idk if you ever saw this comic, but about a month ago, a trans man made a jokey joke comic about making an appointment at the gyno where the receptionist was confused. The ultimate punchline was that he's trans, and thus is the one who needs the appointment. It's v clear that the main point of confusion is that the receptionist thought she was talking to a cis man, who would have no real need for gynecological care. In the "I'm upset when not about me" crowd of TRFs, they decided it was transmisogynistic bc no *actually* the receptionist thought the trans man on the line with a deep voice was really a trans woman. Because sometimes trans women are mistaken as men over the phone. Idk if they just missed that it wasn't a primary care provider or what, but it was v clear to me that the idea was confusing a trans man over the phone for a cis man. Cis men generally don't need gynecologists. Trans men can need gynecologists. It had fuck all to do with trans women on a subtextual level. I can't fathom how they thought that.

TRFs CANNOT fucking read holy shit I hope they fucking apologized to the author

sorry to bring up PT AGAIN ik you are probably tired of hearing about it, but one of the last posts.i read before unfollowing was a comparison of transandrophobia believers with James Fucking Somerton. and its ironic as fuck to me because alot of critiques of Somerton can absolutely apply to them. equating any critique as harassment based on their identity is a big one and its been driving me nuts to see trfs envoke a James Somerton comparison when they are doing similar shit to him

James Somerton is a convenient lightning rod to compare every bad queer person for the rest of time

As a trans male I hate the weird, white knight shit that i see so many other men doing rn, like shut up will you?? Trans boys are not "cowards" or "incels" for not putting themselves in harm's way for (ESPECIALLY) CIS WOMEN Or trans women/girls. I'm so sick of seeing that stupid shit. Those guys are on the same level as military recruiters in my opinion. Just as predatory and fucking dangerous. Like not to be a dick but why do they seem SO convinced that trans boy must be naturally so much stronger then the average trans girl? Hello???????? Hello???

Man is the Strong Gender.

honestly of it wasn't for the lesbian separatism shit i would think that some transfem TRFs want some kind of tradwife-style "macho manly man protects his wife who is a delicate flower incapable of both violence and self-defense who will die if you look at her too hard" thing with a transmasc partner or something, given the way they actively applaud transmascs who talk like that. which would be totally fine if it was a weird fetish thing but this seems to be an actual expression of their politics (also am i just old or does anyone remember when the dominant feminist rhetoric was "women are just as strong as any men and can protect themselves")

it sure feels like that doesn't it lmao

IN WHAT UNIVERSE ARE WHITE PEOPLE INVISIBLE lmaoooo that post was too much

seriously lmao

I really dislike "trans women are the women of women" cuz once again we're using woman to mean the lowest position in a hierarchy

as always

Just something I wanted to share bc it made me really happy: when the forcefem blog made that post about how forcemasc isn't revolutionary and makes no sense or whatever the fuck, one of my transfem mutuals talked about how stupid the aforementioned post was and expressed her support for forcemasc and transmascs in general. I had no doubts that she was supportive of transmascs but that made me super happy!

Hell yeah, I'm really happy for that anon!

Happy Christmas eve if u celebrate ^^ hope ur havin' a good evening [or whatever time it is over where u live]

you as well <3

Logging into Tumblr after a chill movie night with the family only to see you've murdered a guy, holy shit

my tits were too heavy once more

saw another transandrophobia denier, this time on my dash specifically

terrible

Hell yeah it's always nice to find a casual history enjoyer online who's not racist

I do my best.

[paingoes]

Rubies - Snowstorm

not really nsfw but pretty intimate i guess???

this is set a bit further into delta’s recovery!!

(Content: caretaker POV, recovery, fever, nonsexual nudity, sickfic, platonic intimacy, past trauma, discussion of past abuse, crying, brief discussion of noncon, vampire caretaker???, brief discussion of self harm)

~

The white mountains went on for miles in every direction. In the past weeks, they’d been broken up only intermittently by the wildfire smoke, but today the sky was clear and bright. Even in the dead of night, the atmosphere had a brightness about it. The surrounding woods would darken, but overhead the clouds remained luminous. Still, they hoped not to take so long on the trek that they’d be forced to travel by it.

They were making good time, all things considered. The rebel group was only thirteen strong — it was a lucky number. Large enough to function as a single organism at times, but not so much as to become unwieldy. Two dogs jet back and forth between the party members — only one of the hounds had been brought on purpose, the other had simply found them and tagged along. 

Apollo once again scanned the frozen landscape — all bitterly cold and pristine, made to destroy things like him. But he was not immune to its beauty, and he could not help but be mesmerized by it. After all, there was little else to focus on.

Galatea stretched its medics thin. This time was no exception. Again, he was the only one to the group. They were protective of him for that. It was mutual, pleasant. It felt nice to be needed. He never balked from it.

Delta moved a few meters to his right, skirting the edge of the canyon, the abyss below. Apollo clicked his tongue a bit, beckoning him closer. Delta came away from the border and did not seem to resent the summons.

One hand against the nape of his neck proved he was freezing, but he always ran cold. Apollo replaced the scarf around him, relinquishing the contact. Delta peered up curiously, much of his face still obscured within the fabric. 

He didn’t need to be here. The only reason he’d tagged along was because he’d asked. If Levon had his way, Delta would never leave the fortress. All the time, he’d been making himself invaluable there, in a way Apollo could ungenerously describe as calculated. All the same, he understood the impulse.

“Are you cold?” Apollo asked. It’s a dumb question, but he liked that Delta indulged him with it.

“Nah,” he answered back anyway. “I like it more like this. The lake isn’t frozen through all the way, even though it should be by now. There’s vents at the bottom. We’re on a volcano.”

There was a soft gravel to his voice that immediately caught Apollo’s attention. He was getting sick. He might not have even realized it yet.

“Do you think that’s what’s been causing the smoke on the horizon? Volcanic activity?” Apollo asked. 

Delta considered this.

“No.” He said finally. “I think that’s just because of the bombs.”

Apollo nodded in understanding.

~

It seemed to really hit him just as soon as they’d reached the safe house. To be sure, there were places for it to have hit him. But there were also places much, much better.

Delta struggled valiantly through it anyway. The arrival was when the hivemind really seemed to kick in — and each of them present moved like one consciousness, unpacking, drudging water and electricity up from the ancient system. Apollo caught sight of Delta amidst a mess of wires, willing the radio to work. He was tireless. All of it was up and running by the time the pale moon was directly overhead. It was only then he’d let himself be tended to.

Delta coughed terribly, the congestion in his chest now fully audible. Apollo listened closely, in search of something worse.

“You picked an awful time to do it,” he tsked in mock disapproval. “Going to need Balto to carry it all the way up the mountain.”

“Who’s Balto?” Delta asked blearily.

“Nevermind,” Apollo shook his head. “You’re going to be fine. Bacterial, though. It’ll put you out for a couple of days.”

Delta looked up at him pleadingly, as if this was a sentence that he could adjust.

“Gonna be fine,” Apollo repeated, petting his hair. Delta nudged his hand back, leaning into the touch, though he still looked resoundingly unhappy with this verdict. He still let himself be led into the quarantined bedroom, collapsing down onto the cot the first second he was able to.

~

One night later, Delta half-stumbled out of the doorframe. He shivered, visibly, little pinpricks forming all up and down his bare arms. Bare arms, even in the cold climate, because he’d been tucked beneath the blankets and too many layers would make him feel trapped. When he got like this, his eyes turned to sea glass, all soft and cloudy.

“Do you want me to help you?” Apollo asked. Before he could answer, he’d already moved to steady him. He placed one hand against the soft cotton of the tea shirt, feeling at the fragile shoulder bone beneath. Delta let himself be leaned back against the wall. The offer had not been merely to steady him.

Delta nodded yes. He had gotten so much better about receiving it.

They both sat on their knees against the cool tile of the bathroom as the old clawfoot tub gradually filled with mountain water. Delta rested his forehead against the edge of the porcelain. He had a migraine, on top of everything else. When he got anything, the migraine tended to come with it.

Apollo dipped one hand tentatively beneath the surface. It was colder than he would’ve liked, but he knew he was an abnormality in that regard. Delta voiced that it was perfect. He said “perfect”. He was always more agreeable with Apollo, more insistent, strategic to counter the other’s nervous fussing.

It was a pleasant surprise to find that the old house still held the soap for a bubble bath. Apollo had taken liberties with it in the interest of privacy, and because the lavender scent had made him nostalgic. A family had lived here, once upon a time. He felt a soft twinge of sadness as his attention turned back to Delta, who still lay oblivious with his head down against the ledge. It would not mean to him what it meant to Apollo.

The issue of privacy turned out to be of little concern. He’d have offered to turn away, but Delta had already placidly stripped the shirt from his back, then all the rest. Used to it, he’d said the first time, and Apollo’s heart had sunk all the way into his stomach until he’d clarified. There’d been maids. His dignity had been denied to him constantly, or it had never even been considered, but at the very least it had not come to that. Nevertheless, Apollo remained cautious and tentative as he moved to touch the bare skin.

Delta only leaned into it. Apollo had wondered once how much of it was trust and how much of it was simply obedience. He did not wonder so much anymore. All of his movements were slow and controlled, still doing his best now to startle him. He poured the plastic cup carefully over his head, letting a gentle stream of water pour down over the black locks. His hair was longer now. Not as long as it had been, but getting there. It had grown back fast.

He felt the way Delta tensed when his hands brushed over his scalp. The touch was soft. It was the placement. He uncurled his fingers, undoing the hold of his hair.

“Still okay?” Apollo asked quietly. 

“Mm,” Delta agreed at the same decibel. 

He had tensed, though. And his eyes now seemed to study only the surface of the water.

“…You know he tried to drown me?” he said. By the end of the sentence, all the words were only mouthed shapes. No sound came out.

Apollo’s hands froze, given way to still shock. He didn’t know why it surprised him. He’d seen what they were capable of. Nothing should have surprised him anymore. 

“One of the last nights,” Delta added quietly. “It’s why I had to leave.”

He’d wondered all the time what the last straw had been for him. 

“Do you want to get out?” Apollo retracted his hands back to the ledge, lowering his body slightly as if it might make him less intimidating. 

But Delta didn’t look scared, really. His eyes hadn’t left the surface of the water, but they were all half-lidded. He was just sad, in the way he tended to be. He shook his head slowly, slightly.

“No,” he said. “I know you’re not going to. I was just…”

He sunk further into the water without bothering to finish the thought. Apollo cautiously resumed washing the shampoo out from his hair, extra careful not to run his fingers through it too hard. Extra careful so as not to pour the water into his face, so as not to obstruct his breathing. He moved his hands through his hair dutifully, working the conditioner and jojoba oil through the ends. 

When he looked up, he was surprised to see that Delta had started crying. With all the water, he could not be sure if they were really teardrops. Delta’s expression was more or less unchanged. There were no other tells. He wiped his eyes as if he nothing had happened, but his shoulder blades cinched together in a silent sob at the same instant.

“Sorry,” Delta said first, sensing the way his eyes had fallen upon him, “It’s not…”

Again, he didn’t bother to finish the thought. Apollo frowned. He ran his knuckles back up by Delta’s scalp, moving them in soft circles. He leaned into the touch, the crying seeming to slow for a moment.

“I love you,” Delta said.

A small, discontented noise. Apollo sighed as he drew him in a bit closer, kissing him gently on his temple.

~

Though it was deep into the night, the living room was still alive when they emerged into it. It still glowed with the warm orange light. One of the dogs snored atop of the rug just by the fireplace. The scout sat cross-legged next to it, headphones on as she played with her weighted carry-on computer. In the kitchen, the voices were indistinct, but pleasant all the same. 

Delta followed him readily onto the couch, curling up at his end of it. His hair was still wet at the edges. After a moment, he brushed it away, tilting his head to the side to expose the skin.

Apollo stared at him, unsure of what he was seeing. As the silence endured without any movement from Delta, he knew it was what it looked like.

“What’s this?” Apollo’s tone was gentle. “Are you baring your neck for me?”

A soft blush rose up in Delta’s cheeks, not just flushed with fever. Apollo shook his head. Delta straightened his neck back out and — blessedly — did not seem too distraught over the denial.

“Why don’t you?” Delta asked. He let his hair shield his skin again, but leaned closer, pressing his head to Apollo’s shoulder. “Can’t you?”

“I can,” Apollo answered, though for a second he really thought about lying. “But I don’t need it.”

“Lun does,” Delta pointed out. “They need it. If you don’t need it, what does it feel like for you?”

“…Heady.” Apollo admitted. He brushed his nails along the side of the boy’s head. There was too much heat there.

“It gets you loaded?” Delta asked incredulously.

“Not quite,” Apollo said, mostly because he sensed the alarm in the other’s voice. “Just dazed. I don’t like the feeling.”

Delta frowned anyway, but he did not question further. He rearranged himself, asking if he could place the pillow down in Apollo’s lap. He did so. He did not take the blanket and he did not need it. The fever was startling. It would peak tonight.

“You like me more when I’m like this. You just want a patient.” Delta accused, but the tone was teasing.

“I like you all the time,” Apollo said, though he didn’t deny it. Delta sighed discontentedly, exhausted. The skin of his neck was still bare then, unguarded. Apollo pressed two fingers to it, checking the pulse. Steady.

[sophieinwonderland]

@fenmere

Yeah, this is totally fair.

I don't think that this criteria should be imposed on other systems who don't want to follow it.

Even if I might not agree with how some other systems may classify their headmates, it does literally no harm to treat anything like a person that the system feels is one.

My own thoughts are kind of similar to how I would approach abortion. That is, if somebody considers their fetus to be a person then that's their right. Just don't apply those same standards to others and force them to agree.

If my definitions seem overly restrictive, it's partially because I'm wanting to avoid certain more extremist takes that could arise in the future.

I would like to see a basic code of ethics for the plural community that could agree on pretty simple things like "torturing your headmates is wrong." (This obviously does not apply to consensual relationships where all parties have agreed to this.) It might also be cool to shift the culture to seeing the imaginary friends of children, if they demonstrate autonomy and self-consciousness, as actual people deserving of respect and having their opinions listened to. And trying to force a child to get rid of an imaginary friend who demonstrated these traits may one day be seen as the equivalent to conversion therapy.

But that also makes it important to come to an agreement about what a headmate actually is so that these ethics aren't applied in an overly broad way.

The absolute worst case scenario would be for neopuritans to see how some writing characters may act autonomously, jump on that, and try arguing that if you write a character being tortured, then that is the equivalent to actually torturing a person yourself.

Plurality isn't really part of public discourse at the moment. But if it becomes more widespread, then I would like to try to future proof against things like this. I want definitions that are clear enough that people won't be able to apply them to demonize anyone for their writing or their fantasies or whatever else.

Answers for r/systemscringe

It seems like the subreddit is now denying the existence of imagination.

An NPC is a character in your head who you may or may not control but also isn't really a person.

You may have experienced something like this when you dream, where the other characters in the dream are completely autonomous. Although with the intelligence level of your subreddit, I wouldn't be surprised if you start claiming that dreams don't exist either.

If you were to head over to the immersive daydreaming subreddit, you would find a community that has a lot of these sorts of non-headmate characters. (And probably a few headmates that they don't realize are headmates.)

It's 2024. When are you guys going to finally learn that partial dissociative identity disorder exists? A dissociative disorder that is characterized by a lack of switching. Switching in that disorder is either rare or non-existent.

This has been in the ICD-11 since 2019. You all have had 5 years to educate yourselves!

You can't keep relying on other people to do it for you. Especially when you ban us for trying!

I'm not really sure that I understand what this user is getting at with the point about self-consciousness. I think that they are suggesting that a person who was plural wouldn't realize that they were plural because it would just be normal to them?

Which can be true if they aren't talking to people about their internal experiences, but isn't really what I'm talking about here.

When I refer to a rudimentary self-consciousness, what I am meaning is that the headmate should have its own perspectives and be able to have some awareness that those perspectives are their own and not someone else's.

The most basic version of this is an entity who could say, "I like x where you like y" to the host. This involves an implicit acknowledgment of separation. Whether the headmate is calling itself a person or a part or a spirit or something entirely different, it is aware of its own wants and desires, and that those wants and desires aren't necessarily shared by everyone in the system.

This basic level of self-consciousness isn't indicative of a headmate on its own though. Dream characters may also demonstrate this basic sort of self-consciousness. So can some daydream characters.

And lines can get blurry quickly if you have a system who is in an inner world together which is sort of like a shared daydream. Not everything that can talk in the inner world is going to be a full headmate. Some are going to be like the daydream characters of singlets. These are what we call NPCs.

Super important reminder that immersive daydreaming exists without being maladaptive!

Systems immersing themselves in the inner world can be healthy because it can allow them to develop stronger bonds with each other and lower dissociative barriers.

And even immersive daydreaming can be healthy for singlets simply because it's fun and can relieve stress. You could say somebody sitting around daydreaming for hours is dangerous but if they enjoy it, I don't really see it being any more dangerous than playing a video game a lot or other activities that don't involve social interaction. And I think it might be far more healthy than mindlessly scrolling through YouTube shorts or TikTok while they slowly deteriorate your attention span.

Daydreaming only becomes maladaptive whenever it starts to impact your life in unhealthy ways.

This really isn't that complicated!

[dullahandyke]

I need to start having more normal daydreams bcos rn the main one is about finding someone who will agree to consensually stab me 1. Bcos I wanna know what it feels like and 2. I've never had an extended hospital trip before and it would be a Different Problem to have to my current ones and 3. This is a smaller specific facet subset of the daydream of 'qpr with benefits roommate who I marry for tax benefits and have autism with'

[thedreadvampy]

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

[the-satellite]

I am thinking about. The blood n knife n alcohol in Boone's room. And the broken mirror.

[fadedlovemp3]

how do you tell someone that the hookup was nice but you don’t want to hook up again because you’re pretty sure you’re asexual and not make it sound like it’s because they’re bad at sex

[astarlightmonbebe]

slightly hot take (?) but personally i felt the reactions in ep 17 were all in-character and justified... don't have the time to get into it, but it boils down to the fact that knowing something logically =/= knowing it emotionally

[autistic-katara]

there r fics that make u insane (so amazingly good it’s removed ur sanity) and then there’s fics that make u insane (you need to fistfight the author for how they did a specific thing that caused u to rant for hours)

[moe-broey]

I need like. A Don't Make Me Tap The Sign about Alfonse Fire Emblem specifically about his character and how he's perceived sometimes. Like Book 7 Chapter 12 he's just like that. He's always been like that.

I feel like I've def said it more eloquently before probably in Book 5 (regarding Reginn and Fáfnir), where like. He Will try for and favor a peaceful solution, but if it's clear there's no way out without violence and killing the threat/adversary. He won't hesitate. He won't falter. Crit line literally references this actually, "Above all, the mission".

Like I feel like the difference between Alfonse just doing Alfonse things (most recent chapter Seidr having to kill Kvasir, no way out of it -- plus also even considering killing Seidr herself, if that were to end Gullveig) and the Letizia moment was like. The Letizia moment was a BOLD gambit he played, which is WHY it was so shocking in the story and as an audience member, and why I think it left such a deep impression. Still very in character for him and the way he thinks/problem solves on the fly, carefully evaluating the situation and what would be the best move with the highest rate of success. (THAT LAST BIT ACTUALLY........ he'll do this even with low rates of success, out of sheer stubbornness as well. Which is why I still stand by him being rash at times, a LOT of his rashness is disguised as "calculated risks" and he just has the willpower to pull it off. The worst-best type of guy to me LMFAO)

Going back a bit though, the Letizia moment also stands out as an example of how far Alfonse is willing to go to win, especially if his back is pushed against the wall. It gives you a FASCINATING glimpse into his character and into his mind. A lot of times Lif would be an enigma to me, beyond the basics, character wise. Like yeah I guess that would fuck up a guy. But his methods (working and making contracts with gods when especially as Alfonse he knows better than that??) would be inscrutable to me. But everything absolutely finally clicked when Alfonse made that gambit, playing to Letizia's personality and whatever preconceived notions she may have, that maybe Alfonse could find a weak spot in and take advantage of. Lif is doing the exact same thing. His judgement is maybe a little worse for wear on account of, well *gestures vaguely to all of him* but he's still very much doing The Same Thing.

LIKE. I'm def straying from my point which is. Alfonse isn't shy about having to resort to violence. It Is a resort. But if it has to be done, it will be done. Any damage control (such as Sharena's feelings -- she has CLEARLY been extremely upset these past chapters) can be resolved later. (This.... is also fascinating to me..... bc it's always been clear to me his loved ones are the people who ground him, who stop him from losing himself, from becoming cruel in his practicality and tendency for detachment. There Is his morality as well -- but his loved ones are a huge part in what keeps him kind.)

I guess what I'm really trying to say is. Hit me up next time Alfonse is playing 4D chess with the enemy or throwing himself in a ditch on purpose just to indulge his baby sister's current pet project. THOSE feel like standout examples of Alfonse Off The Shits (but still completely in character for him tbh), while like. The rest is just par for the course for him. Just another (especially traumatizing) Tuesday.