#again I’m not saying people can’t be frustrated or upset - that’s not the issue.

[aslanvlad]

Agree. If we use our critical thinking skills, she’s obviously not dragged it on for 4 years for shits and giggles, I’m sure she would like to be finished with it too. We don’t know her or her life, we don’t know what happens behind the scenes, and we are also not owed anything. Most of the fandom do not pay real money for this app, they’ll play only during DR and some even use mods, so they’re getting this story for FREE. We are getting this story even though it seems the author has had some personal circumstances that have made writing it difficult.

And sure, you could make the argument that a co-writer should’ve been hired or it should be handed over, but like, it’s her story?? I imagine she wants to see it through after being in it for this long, and that’s valid imo. And again, we don’t know what happens at this company. With more and more books going on hiatus at one time, it’s almost like making these stories isn’t a walk in the park! These are full, branched out stories with so many moving parts - authors outside of visual novel formats take YEARS to write and publish novels, I can’t imagine how difficult this process can be sometimes. And being rude, mean, and entitled to a person who has already found themselves in difficult circumstances is beyond me. Empathy goes a long way.

Confession:

"I'm extremely disappointed in the majority of this fandom because of their comments about the DLS delay. I've been playing RC since 2020, and back then the story had just begun - I immediately fell in love with it. For me, this is the best story on the app, and I adore it, but I have never, absolutely never felt the need to complain and insult Veronica because of the delays. Why can I, as a big fan, endure all of this, but not the others? 🙁"

[hgfictionwriter]

Discovery - Part Four

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's feeling the lowest she has in a long time. Things are at the tipping point and she needs to choose to either confront things head on or lose you forever.

Warnings: G!P content. Heavy angst. Body image issues or even dysphoria; mental and emotional anxiety; internal conflicts; themes of rejection and self-loathing; self-sabotaging behaviours. Language.

A/N: Chapters one, two and three.

“I can’t believe you. I’ve waited all day to hear from you - and nothing. After everything that happened, you just leave in the middle of the night and just dead silence. Are you kidding me, Jess?”

“First you give me the cold shoulder all evening without any explanation as to why. Started by a conversation you began, might I add. I tell you I love you. We kiss and you literally throw me off of you.”

“Yes, I was upset and I didn’t want to talk. But you just ghost me all day? I know you withdraw when you’re upset or overwhelmed, but you don’t even have the decency to check in with me or give me some kind of an explanation?”

Jessie sunk into her seat on the couch as she read your messages again. She’d been staring at them on and off for the past hour and felt paralyzed, unable to act.

She’d managed to make it to training this morning, but she was certainly worse for wear. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had dark circles under them from a mix of sleep deprivation and the time she’d spent crying. Her teammates immediately clocked her upset and some fawned over her trying to suss things out and help, but she was largely unresponsive.

She just wanted to do her drills to keep her mind off of you and the absolute disaster she’d created.

Coach recommended she talk to the sports therapist, and while she nodded her agreement, she had no intention of rushing. She already knew what they’d say and she wasn’t interested right now. If she was willing to do those things, guess what, she wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament in the first place.

So here she sat at home this evening, in self-imposed solitude and catatonic. The apartment was dead quiet as she flipped between scrolling distractedly through her phone and re-reading messages with you and looking at pictures of the two of you.

She needed to respond. But it seemed no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t figure out what to say. Nothing was remotely adequate. She let out a shuddering breath as she continued to remain inert.

Her heart raced as another message came in from you.

“I’d like to think we’d built enough of a connection and you have enough respect for me to at least acknowledge me and respond. I’ve been sitting here making up excuses in my head for you all day, but reality is, you just choose not to talk to me.”

She let her head fall heavily back against the wall with a dull thud. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists as she felt herself start to tear up yet again.

The end felt inevitable, but underneath all of her fear and anxiety it isn’t what she wanted. It would be easier perhaps. Just close herself off again. Be single again for god knows how long. She was exceptional at pushing people away and pretending it didn’t matter.

Then, maybe, when it felt safe again and the hardship she was currently experiencing was just a distant memory, she would hope to meet someone as incredible as you again. But for what? So she could compare them to you? Miss you? To fuck it all up again?

She released a slow, steady breath and brought her phone back up to reply.

“I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner. I was at training earlier and I guess I just didn’t know what to say.”

“She lives. Well, thank you for replying... So. Do you know what you want to say now?”

She sighed in frustration.

“No.”

She shouldn’t be so curt.

“I wish I did.”

“Well. That’s very helpful.”

“I have some things I want to say. But if you’re not interested in hearing them or trying to resolve anything, I suppose there’s no point.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“I want to know.”

“Do you actually? Because, frankly, even if I told you how I feel last night, I’m not that interested in humiliating myself further or wasting my time if we’re not on the same page.”

Jessie’s chest constricted painfully as she read your message. She never used to consider herself a selfish person, but seeing the toll she’d taken on you, she couldn’t deny it. She wiped angrily at a stray tear at the corner of her eye.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to feel that way and I’m sorry I’ve caused it. I do want to hear what you have to say.”

“I don’t want to do this through text. It’s going to fucking suck but I want to talk in person.”

Jessie sat forward to the edge of the couch and leaned her forearms heavily against her thighs as she studied your message.

She was scared. She didn’t want to do that. Still, she owed you that, the truth, and so much more. And even if you left hating her, she had to make sure you knew it really was all her - you’d been perfect and all of this rot branched from her.

And if it really was the end, she couldn’t resist seeing you one more time.

“Okay. Where and when?”

—————

Jessie’s hands were cold and clammy as she walked down the hall to your apartment. She breathed heavily before catching herself and steadying them. She compulsively opened and closed her fists as she waited for you to answer.

When you opened the door, your expression was a far cry from the one she was used to seeing greet her. Instead of seeing a bright or warm smile, you looked tired and weary.

Guilt radiated through Jessie; she caused this single-handedly. She was supposed to make you happy, bring you comfort, make you feel safe and loved. Instead, she left you looking like a shell of yourself. Slowly at first, small nicks here and there, before a catastrophic and now lingering blow.

“Come in,” you said with only the slightest inflection in your voice. You stepped aside but didn’t make eye contact as Jessie entered.

“I, um, got you this,” Jessie said after she set her shoes aside and took off her backpack. She pulled a vinyl record out of it and handed it to you. She met your discerning gaze briefly before dropping it to the record in her hand. “I know you’ve been looking for it, so…”

You tentatively took it from her, a frown on your face as you examined it.

“Thanks,” you said flatly.

She knew it wouldn’t fix things or make things up to you - not by a long shot - but she had the faintest hope you would be more receptive.

When she forced herself to look up at you again, she saw you still studying the record. Eventually, your frown deepened and you looked at her almost accusingly.

“I don’t get you,” you said. “You barely talk to me these past couple of days and you act all cagey but then you do this? It doesn’t make sense.”

Your face faltered briefly before you grew stoic once more. “Some days you seem to really like me. Really care for me and understand me and we connect so well. And then others it feels like you can hardly stand to look at me.” A flash of emotion appeared on your face and disappeared just as fast. Your voice strained vaguely before you steadied it. “Never mind touch me.”

Jessie swallowed and dropped her gaze in shame. You went on, your voice cracking.

“I’ve tried to be really patient. But after the other night…I’ve done a lot of thinking and I can’t help but admit how hard it’s been.”

You sighed heavily and set the record down on a nearby table before returning and folding your arms tightly against yourself and leaning back against the wall. Your brow was heavy with a frown.

“And I know you've been trying." Your voice grew taut. "Prior anyway. And that's probably what makes it the worst. It's been hard for you, too - to be with me." Your face fell and your lip trembled briefly as you looked away.

Jessie's heart ached as she watched you battle with your emotions. All of the fear and worry she'd let dominate her fell away, replaced with an overwhelming need to hold you and make you feel better.

"It hasn't been," Jessie beseeched, taking a step forward but stopping when your gaze flicked back to her, warning.

"Do you think I’m stupid?" You said sharply. "I know you can’t stand to touch me. At first, I kept trying to give myself, and you, the benefit of the doubt - but the other night really proved that not only do you most definitely not find me attractive,” you laughed acerbically, “I think I might actually even repulse you.” You stared at her a moment, letting your words hang in the air and feigning amusement before choking back a sob. You visibly clenched your jaw before you forced another empty laugh. “That’s a fun one. My therapist’s about to get a ton of business from me.”

You took a shuddering breath and your voice cracked as you spoke. "I already know how this ends.”

“That’s not at all what’s happening or how I feel,” Jessie protested. She pressed the heels of her palms firmly into her eyes and grit her teeth. Her voice strained with burgeoning emotion. “Jesus Christ. That’s not it at all."

Your face screwed up and you gave a sad shake of your head as you stared her down.

“Stop. Just stop with the vague excuses. Just be honest with me. I don’t need you to confirm it, but don’t lie and tell me otherwise. I can tell,” voice breaking at the end. “Every time you pull away. How uncomfortable you can be when we’re even remotely physical. You can’t stand to kiss me for any length of time. I can feel you just waiting to pull away, like you’re fucking counting down the seconds until it’s over.” You started sobbing. “It’s horrible. Knowing you don’t want me like I want you.”

Jessie took a step toward you and you recoiled. She couldn’t help but think - maybe much like how she had with you times before.

“And don’t give me this whole ‘you’re shy’ or ‘you’re awkward’ thing again. I deserve more than your excuses.” Your voice grew softer. “And it’s not your fault you feel the way you do. You can’t control who you’re attracted to. Sometimes there can be an emotional connection and the physical just isn’t there. I don’t blame you. But I do blame you for dragging this out." You sniffled, wiping agitatedly at a tear that rolled down your cheek before giving her a defiant stare. "So just do what you should’ve done from the beginning.”

“It’s not you,” Jessie started and immediately saw the way you tensed up, ready to argue. She spoke quickly and urgently, her voice pleading for mercy and understanding. “It’s not you. I promise. It’s me - and I know how that sounds. But you were never the problem. I need you to know that.”

You looked ready to explode and Jessie knew it was now or never.

"It's me. I-it's my body. And I've been terrified that you won't accept me," she stammered through, hands to her chest as her gaze remained rooted to the floor. Her lips parted and her shoulders rose and fell as her breathing began to quicken. She swallowed and found the courage to look up at you to see a scrutinizing, but perplexed expression on your face.

"I'm not like you," Jessie said softly, "or most girls. Physically." She held your gaze for a second, to let you begin to process, but to give her time to think as well. She could see you were confused, but you waited quietly for her to go on. "I-I," she started, before stopping to take a steadying breath, her shoulders relaxing as she did so. "I've always been different."

She was slow to proceed and you spoke tentatively, all accusations and harshness now gone.

"What do you mean? How so?"

Jessie swallowed, eyes transfixed on the floor once more. She scratched at the back of her neck so harshly that it hurt.

"The reason I can't be physical with you is because what you would see, and feel," she looked up at you as she exhaled, "isn't what you would expect." She studied you as you processed her words. "That's why I asked you if you'd slept with guys," she finished timidly, embarrassment and shame creeping in despite her efforts.

Your mouth fell open to speak, but nothing came out. You frowned and visibly struggled with what to say next. Jessie's mouth was dry, but she had to take the next step.

"Even though I'm a girl, I have...what a guy has," she said quietly.

Your mouth opened wider to speak, but still nothing came out. You held up a poised finger, cuing her to wait. Eventually you found your words. Jessie held your gaze despite how difficult it was.

"Are you telling me that you have...," you trailed off, your gaze settling on her crotch momentarily before looking up at her, a tinge of pink already on your cheeks, "...a cock?"

Jessie released a slow, shuddering breath through her nose as she continued to hold your gaze. She nodded.

"Yes."

She saw your eyebrows raise as you looked away and her words and emotions just came out in a torrent.

"So if you think I've been struggling, you're right, but that's why," she said bitterly, tears in her eyes already. "It really had nothing to do with you. You've been so perfect. And it's been killing me to lie to you. And to hurt you. But I've been so scared - and I just," she took a shaky breath, "I know I'm not what you signed up for. You didn't deserve any of this, but I was being selfish. I wanted you. And I didn't want to risk losing you, so I just kept lying and the longer I waited, the more impossible it felt to tell you." Jessie's voice broke and she wiped her nose before pulling her arms in tightly against herself.

"And in the end I fucked it all up. And I hate myself for hurting you the way I have. Hearing how I...," she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at you before clenching her jaw tightly. "Hurting you is probably the worst thing I've ever done." Her voice grew high as she fought through her emotions. "And I don't deserve your forgiveness. I would gladly take it, but I know I don't deserve it. You deserve far better than someone who would hurt someone they love the way I've hurt you."

Your brow furrowed as she finished and Jessie swallowed once more, clearing her throat before speaking. "I'm sorry I couldn't say it back the other night. I really wanted to." She gave you a desperate look. "I know it must seem like I have zero integrity, but, I couldn't tell you I love you without telling you," she paused, gaze falling briefly, "all of this." She looked back at you, taking in a slow breath. "I really do love you. And I want so much more for us, but I realize now that even if you were okay...with me...well, with the way I've gone about everything, I've probably ruined any chance for us."

Her face fell as more tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I just need you to know that you shouldn't feel badly about yourself, because you were never the problem. It was always me."

"This is a lot for me to process," you said slowly, thumb grazing idly along your arm. You glanced over at the couch for a moment before glancing back at her. "Um, why don't we sit down."

Jessie sniffled, overcome with surprise that you'd invite her in further. It took her a moment to comprehend it, but soon nodded eagerly. She followed you wordlessly to the couch, remaining standing as you took a seat. You looked at her expectantly before gesturing to the spot next to you.

She was mindful of the space between you. She didn't want to sit too close and inadvertently imply that things were suddenly fine. She sat stiffly, back straight, hands on the tops of her thighs as she deferred to you on how to proceed. She glanced at you in trepidation, waiting, but when you didn't say anything for several moments she spoke again.

"I completely understand that this is a lot to process," she validated with a fleeting glance. "While I've been thinking about nothing but this for months, this is all new to you."

"Yeah," you said quietly, still very much in your thoughts.

"And I want you to know that you don't owe me anything," she said. "I completely understand if this is too much for you or not what you want. No hard feelings." She almost laughed at the last statement as she sat here, congested and teary-eyed. There would be a lot of feelings, but not hard feelings. She rubbed her forehead. "And I understand if there are hard feelings towards me. I'm sorry I was such a coward. I just-" she shook her head quickly, dismissing the thought. "Never mind."

She heard you exhale gently and she peeked over at you. You were initially still, but soon shifted, surprising Jessie as you turned subtly towards her.

"Don't get me wrong. I have a lot of questions. And I still have a lot of confusing feelings and hurt. But - I meant it when I said I love you. So it's hard to see you hurting like this." You scratched at your temple before looking up at her. "Did I do something to make it harder for you to tell me?"

Jessie turned to you fully, a stern look on her face. "No," she said adamantly. "You were," she shrugged listlessly, "you really were - are - amazing. I guess I just let old fears and baggage control me."

"What do you mean?" You asked tentatively before holding up your hands and speaking quickly. "And if I ask something that's too much - just say so. I don't want to make you more uncomfortable."

Jessie frowned deeper. "You're too good for me," she said simply. "You shouldn't give a shit about whether I'm uncomfortable or not. But, let me be clear - for once - I will answer any question you have for me. Some will be easier to answer than others, but I want you to know everything. If you want. That's what I wanted all along, but I was just too scared."

"Well, if you love someone - you care about their boundaries and how they feel," you said plainly. Jessie looked at you and you looked away nervously, clearing your throat before turning back. "And. Backtracking. You...love me?"

Jessie smiled for the first time today. It was an emotional, watery, sad smile. But it was a smile. "Yes. I really do. And it's been absolute torture the past couple of days not talking to you - I know it's all my fault though."

You frowned, thoughts almost visibly churning before you set your gaze on her again.

"Wait. But I'm not your first girlfriend. So...was it like this every time?"

Jessie's posture slumped slightly at your question; more-so, the reminder it triggered. That you were the best and she'd treated you the worst.

"No. No, it hasn't been," she admitted as she picked at the fabric of her pants. "I, um, was more open before. And, uh, I guess it backfired. And I've been pretty reserved and nervous about it since."

"Oh," you said quietly, still deep in thought. "But your teammates know, right?"

"Yeah, they all do. Hard for them not to. And they're cool with it, thank God. But otherwise I keep it quiet. It doesn't seem like it, but I'm actually pretty comfortable with that aspect of myself these days. It caused a lot of angst for me for years, but I'm happy with who I am. Relationships though...that's a different matter altogether."

"I'm sorry, Jess," you said gently, pulling a confused look out of her. Again, you shouldn't be worried about her. "That sounds really difficult. That said, do you mind telling me more?"

Jessie turned to you more fully, your knees nearly brushing now. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. You were right that I was far from an open book, but I don't want to be like that anymore. I want you to know everything, if you'd like." She shrunk into herself a bit and waved a hand aimlessly. "And just because I tell you these things, it doesn't mean that I think you'll forgive me or something. I understand that, you know, things could end. But I still want you to know."

Surprise flooded Jessie's system as you took her hand and gave it the faintest squeeze, continuing to hold it after.

"Jess. It's okay. I want to know."

She mustered up a tight smile for you and squeezed your hand.

She proceeded to tell you her story. Filling the gaps she'd craftily navigated during previous conversations. The embarrassment she'd felt. The otherness. The ridicule she'd experienced over the years. The rejection. The objectification. And the eventual defeat; of feeling like no one would get her or love her the way she wanted to be loved.

By the time she finished, a new set of tears had finished falling, but what she noted most of all was how you now held her hand in both of yours.

"Baby," you said softly, as you lifted her hand and kissed it tenderly. Jessie looked at you in surprise as she sniffled.

She'd expected the worst, so when you looked at her with warmth and compassion, it caught her off-guard to not see disgust or rejection.

"I'm so sorry you were made to feel like that. You didn't deserve that at all. Some people are so fucking close-minded and terrible. I'm so sorry you had to experience that," you told her.

Her shoulders hitched as she rode out the dying waves of her emotion.

"Thanks," she managed, her voice still congested and strained. "Now you know how hypocritical and truly horrible it was of me to make you feel the way those girls made me feel."

You tilted your head slightly and gave it a slow shake. "No. It's not the same. I mean, yes, I felt terrible, but you weren't trying to hurt me. And now I can understand where you were coming from."

Jessie shook her head in return. "It doesn't make it right though. So...if you let me, I'll do everything I can to try to make it up to you and try to rebuild the trust I've broken. Totally understand if that's off the table though."

"I," you started, chest rising as you took a large breath before relaxing once more, "still love you. So...no, it's not off the table. I still have to process a lot of this and reconcile some things. And, yes, reality is you hurt me, but everything makes so much more sense now. So. Thank you. For finally telling me."

Jessie nodded. "Thank you for hearing me out."

You fidgeted slightly and she watched you carefully. You felt her eyes on you and spoke hesitantly.

"We, um. Didn't exactly address my initial issue though. I mean, I understand now why you've been so closed off and flighty. But, you know, none of this necessarily means that you, um, find me attractive. Because that could still be a problem."

Jessie gave you a disbelieving look. "Of course I find you attractive. Well, okay," she slowed herself down, "I understand why you thought I didn't. But, now that you know everything else, my attraction to you is exactly why I couldn't be remotely physical with you. It was...a bit too much for me. Let's put it that way," Jessie finished as she looked away sheepishly. When she braved a look back your face was tinged pink.

"Oh. Okay. Well..., um. That's nice to know, I guess," you responded awkwardly.

"I'm sorry. That was probably too much information," Jessie mumbled. She cleared her throat before speaking more confidently. "So, no, you have nothing - at all - to worry about there. I think the bigger question now is if you would find me attractive. Now that you know that my, um, anatomy is different."

You blushed deeper and cleared your throat as well.

"Oh. I mean, you're still you. And, I'm curious-" you held up your hands quickly in defense, eyes closing as you corrected yourself, "-not like those other girls. No. I would never use you like that." You opened your eyes once again, calming yourself. "What I mean is. I'm still interested."

Jessie felt an ember of hope flickering in her chest. You were still blushing, giving her fleeting glances until you fully faced her, now serious and prim.

"You get one more chance," you told her firmly, holding up a finger. "I know a lot will be new and there'll be things to navigate, but I won't put up with you being distant and cagey again. Do not lie to me again."

Jessie nearly beamed. She straightened up eagerly and nodded her head rapidly in agreement.

"I won't," she promised before she took a second look at you. "Are you sure you want to try again?"

Your face scrunched up adorably as you shot her a look.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?" You asked, affronted.

"No," she refuted, shaking her head adamantly. "I just want to make sure this is what you truly want. I know I dumped a lot on you just now, so...you are more than welcome to take your time to think. And I definitely don't want you to feel guilty in any way."

"I don't feel guilty," you told her. "And," you exhaled quickly, "as you were telling me about all of your experiences and how you've been treated, all I could really think throughout all of it is that I wished there was some way I or someone could go back and protect you from all of that." You picked at your nails idly. "And, I don't know, that I just wanted to hold you. And kiss you." You gave her another stern look, but it was mild at best. "You're not entirely forgiven yet. But I understand you so much better now. So, I do want to try again."

That heavy, horrible ache in her chest she'd been carrying with her the past while was replaced with a sensation of warmth and lightness.

"You're the most incredible woman I've ever met," she told you unwaveringly. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to make things up to you. I'll make sure you never have a doubt about me, or you, or us, again."

"That's a bold promise," you warned with a hint of a smirk.

Jessie smiled at you undeterred. She gently cupped the side of your face and leaned in, stopping momentarily to speak before giving you a soft, slow kiss.

"And it's one I intend to keep."

A/N: Next up…smut.

Tag requests: @multifandomlesbianic @marvelwomen-simp @kathleenmikaelson

[gloomwitchwrites]

Burnt Bread

Éomer x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: fluff, physical & emotional hurt/comfort, family issues, established relationship, alcohol

Word Count: 2.4k

After being left to fend for yourself in your father's bakery, you end up making a massive mistake that earns his ire. Fleeing, you find comfort with the one person who you're utterly safe with.

A/N: Dedicated to @firelightinferno

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“I’m leaving. Watch the shop.”

You glance up from the sticky dough beneath your hands and find your father near the door. He sways on his feet slightly as he attempts to tug on his coat. “I’m leaving” is just another way of telling you that he’s off to drink, and by the look and smell of him, he’s already started for the day.

It wasn’t always like this, and it’s only become worse over the years. Following your mother’s death, your father’s reliance on mead has become a crutch, a vessel for his loneliness. It doesn’t matter that you are alive and here for him.

While you don’t entirely resent him for falling into this state, the frequency of it does worry you. Worse, it’s driving a wedge in your relationship with him. He’s becoming distant and detached. His frequent disappearances leave you alone to take care of the shop and everything that goes along with it. It’s not difficult, and you enjoy the work, but when the shop is busy, you can’t always keep an eye on things.

You’re starting to grow tired of this, and you don’t want to feel resentful of your father. You’ve always loved him, even on the days when he comes home stumbling.

“For how long?” you ask flatly, trying not to sound upset that he’s departing yet again. This is the fifth day in a row your father has left the shop in the morning to drink. You fail, a little indignation creeping into your tone.

Your father hears it because he scowls in your direction. “Don’t know,” he mutters, as he teeters toward the door.

There is no final goodbye or backward glance. The shop door slams shut, and tears begin to form in the lower lids of your eyes. Brushing them away with the back of your hand only dusts your cheeks with floor.

This constant distance is tiring.

Putting all your frustration into kneading the dough on the table, a little bit of that steam begins to cool. Once you’ve had enough, and your arms ache, you cut and shape the dough, setting it aside to rise.

The bell above the door rings as the first customer of the day steps inside. And then it begins.

This is why you miss your father in the mornings. Everyone loves seeing your face. They appreciate your kind smile and helpful attitude. Most days, your father is nursing a hangover and keeps to himself, leaving you to take care of everyone that walks in. But without him, you’ll need to do both.

The front of the shop quickly packs with people. You’re so busy taking orders and wrapping bundles of freshly baked bread, that at first you don’t smell the slight hint of char in the air. It’s only when you finish helping a customer that you catch a whiff of it.

The older woman’s nose crinkles in confusion, and while she says nothing, her reaction gives you pause. Inhaling, you consider the scents in the shop, grouping them into different categories. There’s sugar, butter, and—

Your eyes widen, and then you’re rushing to the large stone oven at the back of the shop. “Oh no. No no no no.” Grabbing the large, wood paddle off the wall, you hurriedly scoop up and toss the bread onto the nearby table.

Some are perfectly toasted but others, like the ones closest to the fire, are charcoal. You slide the paddle in and retrieve a loaf that is entirely on fire. In your surprise, the paddle and bread fall to the floor.

They both clatter loudly and you drop to your knees, using your apron to smother the burning bread. The tears fall easily, and the heat from the apron is hot and irritating, but you put it out. You’re so absorbed in trying to salvage what you can, that you don’t realize where the wide part of the paddle is.

Your hand goes out and connects with it. You jump back with a light cry, cradling your palm. The paddle is wood and not metal, which is some comfort, but your left hand is throbbing.

The bell above the door rings, and you glance up, eyes wide and frightened like a deer.

“What is this?” comes the sneering voice.

Your father is back, and you can smell the sourness from here. He half-sways, half-limps around the counter to where you’re kneeling. His pupils are wide, and he has to lean on the countertop for support. That yellow gaze roams over you, to the burnt bread on the floor, and then back to you again.

“You stupid girl,” he whispers. Then, much louder. “You stupid stupid girl!”

This is the part of him you dislike the most. When he’s deep in his cups, all kindness is gone.

“I’m so sorry, father. We were busy and I didn’t realize—”

“Do you know how much you’ve cost us? This is two dozen loaves.” He picks one up and throws it at your face. His aim is terrible and completely off. All you have to do is bend a bit and it sails right over your head.

“Father—”

“Do you do this to me on purpose?”

“Father. Please—”

“Every day I have to look upon your face and see your mother. A daily reminder that she is gone!”

“Please,” you beg softly, staring down at your hands.

“Get out!”

You bolt up and rush out the door, nearly knocking over an elderly woman about to walk inside. You run and run until you pass through the gates of Edoras, stopping only when you make it to the burial mounds of the kings. You fall to your knees and then onto your back, staring up into the sky.

It’s morning, but overcast, the clouds a stormy gray like they’re ready to cry and join you in your sorrow.

There is only one person who could give you comfort, but he is not here. He is gone, expected back today but you’re not sure when. Even if you were to wait for him, you’re in no state to greet him. Éomer should see you happy when he returns, not tear-stained.

No one holds vigil at the burial mounds. This will be your respite. This will be your chance to slow your racing heart and dry your eyes. Once you’re calm, once you’re no longer wishing to flee from this place, you’ll hold vigil at the gates until Éomer arrives. Going back to the shop to face your father is out of the question.

The grass is a soft bed beneath you. Closing your eyes, you press your hands against the earth, splaying your fingers wide, focusing on the individual blades of grass under your palms. This will be your anchor until you can find a bit of peace.

“What are you doing on the ground?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head to the right, meeting the amused smile of the man you love.

“Éomer,” you breathe, sitting up to grab at the front of his leather armor. It doesn’t matter that your hands sting, you pull him down onto you wanting his closeness.

His gentle laugh is perfect, and when your mouths meet, everything slips away. Éomer settles between your legs, his forearm resting by your head while his other hand reaches back to grab. He meets bare thigh, and the contact is exactly what you need.

Éomer is real and whole and with you.

The kisses that start with soft excitement quickly become deep and heated. There is a slight harsh bite to his breathing as the two of you presses closer. Your hands slide up to wrap around the back of his neck, but as they crest over the lip of his armor, the tender flesh on your palm screams out.

Hissing, you draw back, clutching at your hand.

Éomer stills and then pulls away from your lips. His head tips downward, glimpsing the burn before you can hide it from view.

“What happened?” he asks, his tone tipping toward concern.

“It’s nothing,” you murmur, as the memory of your father comes roaring back.

“It’s not nothing,” he replies firmly, his brow creasing. “Show me.”

Slowly, you unfurl your fingers, revealing your palm. Of everyone in your life, Éomer is the safest.

Éomer’s mouth forms into a deep frown as he clutches your wrist, drawing your hand closer to his face as he inspects the burn. “Did someone do this to you?”

You shake your head. “No. Just grabbed some hot bread. That’s all.”

Éomer sees right through you. “You’ve been crying.”

“It hurts.”

Éomer sighs, gently guiding your hand down to your chest. When he releases your wrist, Éomer reaches out to trace the backs of his knuckles against your cheekbone. “You can tell me if it was your father.”

When the tears start to accumulate in your eyes again, Éomer leans in and lowers his voice. “Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head. “Not with his fists.”

Éomer’s exhalation is shaky, like he’s trying to calm his own anger. “You’re coming with me.”

“Éomer—”

“You are coming with me,” he repeats. “We will talk, and I will tend to these burns.” When you open your mouth to argue, Éomer shakes his head. “Don’t be stubborn.”

He slowly sits back on his heels and helps you come to sitting. Then he’s on his feet, bringing you with him. Éomer;s horse, Firefoot, grazes nearby.

Éomer’s hands lightly brush away the blades of grass that cling to your skirts. “Would you like to walk or ride back?”

You love Firefoot dearly, but you’d rather take your time arriving to Edoras’ gates. You’re still not calm, and a slow walk with Éomer at your side might just help you find some peace.

“Could we walk?”

He nods. “If that is what you wish.”

Éomer leads Firefoot by the bridle with one hand, and with the other, he clasps yours. He does not push or dig around, but instead moves at the pace you set. Éomer knows your signals without you having to say anything. Instead of inquiring about your father or what happened, he talks about his time away. It gives you a chance to shift mindsets, to focus on him and nothing else.

When the two of you are in his private room, Éomer guides you over to the hearth. He lays out a small nest of furs and gently helps you down on them, taking care not to accidentally brush against the burn. Once you’re seated, Éomer moves to a far corner of the room to remove his weapons and a few heavy pieces of armor. Then he comes back to you, sitting beside you in front of the fire.

“Show me your hands.” Reluctantly, you present them. Éomer frowns down at them. “Tell me again your father didn’t do this to you.”

“He didn’t. I promise.”

Éomer sighs heavily and his hands wrap around your wrists. He gently guides your hands closer, inspecting the burn. It’s only on your left hand, and Éomer slowly releases the one that’s fine. “I’ll have someone fetch some ointment for this and bandages.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It is. I’ll take care of it.”

You snort and Éomer’s mouth quirks up into a smile. “Think I’m incapable?”

“A strong warrior like you capable of such tenderness?” you tease.

His smile softens. “What about all the times I’ve been tender with you?”

Your cheeks heat with the memory. “Not in that way,” you mutter, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Would you prefer that as well?”

“Perhaps later,” you breathe, heart quickening in your chest.

Éomer lifts your wrist to his mouth, placing a kiss on the pulse point. “I’ll return shortly.”

When Éomer acquires the correct ointment and bandages, he sets to work. He cleanses his hands, scrubbing his nails and between his fingers before he begins. Then, with purposeful slowness, Éomer lifts the injured hand and begins rubbing the ointment into the surface-level burns. They likely won’t blister but they’ll sting for a week or more.

Once the ointment is applied, he unwraps the bandages, guiding it over and around your hand to keep the ointment in place. He ties off the extra and cuts it off with a clean blade, tucking the little bit left into the wrappings. Éomer is overly cautious but it’s sweet.

He is always so gentle with you.

“You spoil me,” you murmur.

“I enjoy it,” he replies, turning your hand over to double-check his work.

A soft sadness creeps in. “One day you won’t.”

Éomer glances up. “How so?”

You shrug as if the words don’t mean anything. “You’ll marry a princess. She’ll beautiful and fair. The people will love her.”

Éomer shakes his head. “Why would I ever want such a thing when I have one right here.”

“Don’t tease.”

“I’m not.” Éomer kisses your fingers and gently guides your hand to your lap. In a move so delicate it momentarily steals your breath, Éomer cups your cheek and leans in close. “All I ever want. All I ever need. Is right here.”

Éomer stands before the back door of the shop your father owns. He’s still fuming, but not nearly as much as when he saw your hand. For some time, Éomer has wanted to give this man a piece of his mind. You are precious, and more importantly, you don’t deserve his ire.

The man is a drunk, and everyone knows it. Most show him pity because it all started with the death of his wife—your mother. But that was many years ago, and any pity Éomer felt for the man has long since evaporated.

Squaring his shoulders, Éomer pounds on the door like he’s trying to splinter the wood.

You are still in Éomer’s chambers, curled up in the pile of furs he created in front of the fire. You are sacred to him, the woman he wants above all things. One day, you will be his, and will no longer have to answer to your father.

The drunkard swings open the door. “What?” he growls before he realizes who stands before him.

His eyes widen, and he straightens up, smoothing out the rumbled apron. He fumbles over his words and Éomer holds up a single hand, silencing the man.

“I’m not interested in excuses.” Éomer takes a step into the shop, towering over the man. “If I ever see her in tears again because of you, understand that my next visit will be much less pleasant. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly.”

Éomer wants to stay more, but he draws back his rage. He nods curtly, and exits, only wanting to return to you.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado

[angellwingss]

Wasn’t going to go on a big rant but you know what since that other post is gaining traction yeah I think I will. So big long rant under the cut. Lolll

I feel like. A lot of people might tell me ‘it’s not that deep’ but to me it is that deep.

I don’t have a problem with JayVik or it’s shippers like. At all. I just think some of them are à really good demonstration of like. Every bad thing when it comes to fandom ever LMAO.

Once again I am (supposed to be) writing a whole big long essay about this already so I will try and keep this kind of short and sweet and it might be a bit lacking but wtvr.

I think a lot of JayVik fans tend to be white queer people. Someone left a tag on my OG post that said basically ‘my take is I’m a faggot and I don’t have to care about a character if I don’t want to’ and no hate to that person cuz you’re right, but this is exactly the kind of stuff that made me make that first post.

I feel like a lot of white queer people have an issue with seeing outside their own identity? If that makes sense? This is seen time and time again with the way some of them behave when big movements happen online, some have a tendency to centre themselves and whatnot so i think it’s kind of the same thing.

It makes total sense that a queer person would prefer queer ships and would prefer JayVik over MelJay, that is not a crime. But I do think part of that is because they can’t relate/identify with Mel or see themselves in her like they can with Jayce or Viktor.

I hate to also make it about feminism but i think a lot of you guys are super like. Male centred, like just in your attraction which once again, not the issue not a crime. But i think it’s also why CaitVi, which is a canon queer ship, although popular is still not quite as popular as JayVik despite being canon. Women fetishizing gay men in fandom is not something new, which I think might play a small part in it- I’ve seen a lot of people especially back in s1 infantilizing Viktor and acting like he had no agency or independence and that he NEEDS Jayce to take care of him (that’s another thing. Ableism(looks at you with my eyes)) and they also do the same thing with Jayce where they act like he had 0 agency with any decisions he makes and that he’s like a big dumb baby who doesn’t know anything politics. Hey, guys. That’s a grown man.

My main issue isn’t that people prefer JayVik over MelJay it’s just that some shippers demonize Mel to an insane degree, blame her for getting in the way of their ship (this is also happening right now with Maddie- there’s a leak going around saying that she gets with Caitlyn and people are so upset that this character is getting some INSANE hate and I feel like that’s the same thing going on.)

they blame her for ‘stealing’ Jayce etc etc like. Idk. You don’t have to ship MelJay but I wish more people would appreciate Mel just as a character- imo she is super interesting and has a great story but she’s only ever seen and ‘the other woman’. I’ve seen people say she isn’t like, well characterized and that her story entirely revolves around Jayce which. Yeah she’s definitely heavily involved with him in s1 but she’s clearly got a lot more going on than just that and you would know that if you GAF 🗣️🗣️

for just being. Who she is. I think Mel deserves more attention just in the fandom and it’s just frustrating. People making memes about Jayce going insane over Viktor leaving but like. Mel also just got fucking kidnapped guys. His lover has just vanished without a trace why is nobody also talking about that !!!! Why can’t he care about both these people at the same time !!!!!!!

Anyway I’m not nearly well equipped enough to talk more in-depth about like. Any of this but I do think the demonization of Mel and refusal to see her relationship with Jayce as it is can often times be boiled down to racism like straight up. And also things like the fetishization of gay men in fandom and just things like that are sometimes what can lead to female characters- even the well written ones to be shelved and pushed aside in favour of their male counterparts.

Obligatory ‘not all JayVik fans’ obviously a lot of you are awesome, shouldn’t have to say this. If I’m not aiming for you, you shouldn’t be getting shot.

[luviisabella]

“you’re okay”

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Fem’Rd

Summary: honestly this is a more personal fic

reader has been dealing with some self security issues, she doesn’t know how to deal with her anxiety/struggles and it’s been really consuming, Sanemi catches her in one of her moments and manages to reassure her that she’s gonna be okay.

Category: SFW (safe for work)

Character: Sanemi Shinazugawa

Song: Stargirl Interlude

“I’m fine im fine im fine” you kept reassuring yourself out loud as you were pacing back and forth the halls in the Butterfly mansion. Everyone had fallen asleep and was staying there for a couple of days for training and health checks by Shinobu and Aoi. It was late so you were in pajamas and put on some socks since the floor despite being wooden was a bit cold. You were a Hashira, you had no time for little things like intrusive thoughts and anxiety to bug you now. It was improper and unprofessional. This thought process is what led you to pacing around the halls.. but then you stopped. You caught a glimpse of the sky and it was covered in stars, you felt bad pacing around feeling as if someone could hear you, so you sat on the roof instead. Knees to your chest and head resting in your lap. You just let your thoughts continue to spiral and spiral, they were endless, they were tiring, and you couldn’t keep fighting yourself. You were never going to win a battle against yourself and you, as a Hashira, knew that.

You began biting your lip in anger because it felt like you had no control of your thoughts and could feel tears beginning to form from the frustration.

“And why the hell are you awake?” Sanemi’s voice seemed groggy as he stepped closer to you. You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even hear him coming closer and now you wonder what would have happened if it wasn’t Sanemi and if it was a demon what would you- “Hey, I asked you a question.” Sanemi’s voice snapping you out of reality, you turned your head to look up at him and his eyes widened a little.. your eyes were glossy and your bottom lip a bit swollen. He could tell something was wrong, I mean anyone could, but he knew something was wrong because you’re never like this.

“Im sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.” You apologized and looked down at your feet, you realized your socks are probably now a bit dirty from walking around. “Bold of you to assume you woke me up.” He ruffled the back of his hair a bit before sitting next to you. “Mitsuri talks in her sleep, creepy if you ask me” he says before taking a glance at the sky as well to be met with stars all over. A small smile formed at your face knowing the Love Hashira is well known for talking in her sleep. “So you gonna talk or keep being weird and quiet?” despite how harsh the question seemed you could tell he was just concerned.. maybe a little worried. Your smile faded into a little frown and your eyes still glossy. “I just can’t do it anymore, I’m so tired of fighting myself and all these thoughts and just-“ you paused for a minute because you said so much your emotions began overflowing.. small tears falling down your cheeks before you sniffled hoping to prevent more from falling. “I just don’t want to feel this way anymore. I hate it.” You put your head back down, knees still to your chest and you looked away from Sanemi. There was a moment of silence until.. “Then fix it.” Sanemi huffed, the slight attitude in his voice. You picked your head up and looked at him confused. “What?” You mumbled and before you could say anything else.. “You’re always going around telling people they can change. They can start over as many times as they need to. They can feel okay again. All this advice and yet you don’t take it seriously for yourself.” Sanemi now sounded a bit upset.

“That makes you a hypocrite.” and when the words left his mouth you felt a hole form in your heart, a hypocrite? No, you were just… possibly… a hypocrite?? You didn’t mean to be that way or come off that way. It just didn’t feel the same, taking your own advice. It felt like it never worked. “It doesn’t work that way San-“ “Then make it work.” Man was he ‘great’ at giving advice. You rolled your eyes seeing as he was being as tough as nails. Per usual. “You don’t just stop because it’s not working. You keep finding a way. A new way. A better way. A stronger way. Until it sticks.” Sanemi was pretty good with his words when he needed to be, you had only heard him talking to Obanai and some others but never to you like this. It was new.. “Yeah and when that doesn’t work then what?” You ask with a little attitude behind your words. “Then you keep trying and you keep finding another way. Things don’t end just because you lost one way. It means it’s just started and it’s waiting for you to find another. Learn to get back up on your feet and keep starting again. It means you’re alive. It means you have the ability to grow.” and your eyes widened at the realization that he was right. Not that he usually isn’t but that his words are genuine advice. It’s true, you had, and for so long, kept fighting yourself because you felt stuck and it’s because you kept doing the same old things rather than allowing yourself to do something new, to start over, to accept, and to forgive yourself. You were always so hard on yourself and for what? You’re a Hashira yes but you’re still human. You seemed to have forgotten that but Sanemi reminded you and it was more than a reminder, it was a wake up call. A wake up call that if you keep heading towards battles like this, especially ones with yourself, you will never win.

You teared up a bit, now knowing something more about yourself. That you’re fully capable and the only thing ever stopping you is you.

“You’re okay, y/n.” His voice seemed more gentle now, probably because you were crying..or because-

“I promise you’re okay. You’re only human. There’s only so much you can do and winning a fight against yourself is not one of them. Learn yourself first, understand who you are, and I promise things will align after that.” He gently placed his hand on your shoulder, his touch was so soft compared to how he usually is. He figured you needed space so he got up ready to walk away until he felt you behind him. Your chest pressed against his back and arms around his abdomen. Tear stains on his pajamas but he didn’t mind.

“Thank you..” you mumbled into his shirt as your face was buried in his back.

You couldn’t see it but he had a small smile and he looked up a bit seeing the stars again..

“Just trust you’ll be okay again. You’re y/n, you can do anything, I’ve seen you do it. Trust yourself.”

What was Sanemi gonna do with you..? It was getting harder to fight these feelings, especially when you hug him like that and he hears your cries, all he wants to do is hug you back and give you more than just words of affirmation and reassurance.. but for now, he’s okay with this.

As long as you’re okay.

[hrizantemy]

its @viktoriaashleyyx @booksnwriting @positivleyruined and @goldieb92

Made me so upset since I am also a SA victim and it hurts to see people dismiss that

I don’t follow any of the people you mentioned, and I don’t think I’ve seen many posts from them either, so I couldn’t say which specific posts they made. But thank you for letting me know so I can steer clear of them in the future. It’s frustrating that people in the fandom are minimizing something as serious as SA, especially when it comes to Rhysand’s character. Regardless of opinions on him, it’s important to acknowledge his trauma and not erase or invalidate that part of the story.

I’m also so sorry for what you’ve been through. It’s incredibly sad that some people can’t see outside of the books and understand the real-life implications of these issues. Fiction can reflect reality, and when we dismiss that, it can be hurtful to those who’ve experienced it. Thank you again for the heads-up, and I’ll definitely keep an eye out to avoid those who are spreading this narrative.

[creampuffqueen]

i am begging people to stop going “but my sensory issues!!!” on every single post about shaving. it is so frustrating and unhelpful for so many reasons

1. you are making it about yourself. you are contributing to the “what about-ism”. bean souping the post, if you will, by derailing the conversation to turn it to you and your personal preferences

2. i’m being so for real when i say a decent amount of y’all are lying about your supposed unshaven related sensory issues. i’m sure there are some people who genuinely experience sensory issues related to having body hair, but when HUNDREDS of comments on a post are all claiming sensory issues? sensory issues are not just things that bother you, or make you a bit uncomfortable. people with sensory issues have their ENTIRE LIVES affected by them, whether that be foods they can’t eat, materials they can’t wear, noises they can’t be around, whatever. i really feel like the term “sensory issues” has been totally co-opted by neurotypical folks who just mean that a sensation bothers them a bit

3. the staunch refusal to look even a LITTLE BIT deeper into your own personal choices is infuriating. you cry “sensory issues!!” and then don’t think any further than that. it’s completely stunting to any kind of productive conversation surrounding women, body hair, shaving, and beauty standards

4. why do you need the approval from people who don’t shave? why go onto a post about shaving like “b-b-but what about me?? i have SENSORY ISSUES, i HAVE to shave every hair below my eyebrows 🥺 can you please validate me?? can you please tell me i’m still a good feminist?? can you tell me that it’s fine i’m upholding the status quo because of my SENSORY ISSUES that FORCE me to shave??”

y’all act like we’re breaking into your house, stealing your razors, and forcing you to grow out your leg hair at gunpoint. no. all that’s happening is people are saying women shouldn’t be forced to shave their body hair, and yet the people who seem to be most upset about this idea… is other women!

again, i am sure there are people who genuinely have sensory issues that mean they absolutely must shave their body hair. that’s not the issue here. the issue is other women jumping into a conversation about shaving, crying sensory issues (likely from a misunderstanding of what sensory issues actually are) derailing the entire conversation, and preventing any kind of successful discussion

and i just don’t understand why! if you truly, absolutely, 100% shave only for yourself and your comfort, that is fine! but that shouldn’t prevent you from understanding the patriarchal influences around shaving, and encouraging other women to do what they want with their own bodies, including not shaving

but your choices and decisions around shaving don’t exist in a vacuum. i highly doubt anyone in this day and age is deciding to start shaving for themselves. you were influenced by the people around you. be that adults telling you it’s a thing grown women do, be that other people your age starting to shave and you feeling left out, be that being mocked by peers and family members over your (completely natural) body hair

if you shave, that is FINE. that is completely valid. be it because of sensory issues or not. but you don’t need to talk about it! you don’t need to go into the comments on posts about not shaving and make it about how you still choose to shave. you can realize that not everything is about you personally, and most posts about not shaving are a comment on society. you can work on deconstructing your own reasons for shaving (and can still continue to shave after doing so if you want). you can help actually contribute to the conversation about the patriarchal influences behind women and hair removal

just. for the love of god, stop crying “sensory issues!!” on every post about shaving. it’s not that hard

[phillesterlover]

Alright. I wasn’t gonna say nothin here since it happened on Twitter, but I’m seeing some really strange takes and I just gotta weigh in.

1) I don’t think it’s appropriate for an audience who could never relate to a harm to police the way someone is supposed to react/reflect on potential harm done. I say this as a white american phan. When someone says that they’ve been hurt by racism/xenophobia I sit my ass down and listen. Ideally, none of us want people to be hurt. So ideally, we want to listen and learn about how we can prevent any harm going forward, not dictate what should and shouldn’t be harmful.

2) From what I understand, and again I’m not a part of the harmed party so maybe I’m off base, but the issue isn’t necessarily the joke Dan made. His frustration and need to joke as a coping mechanism is understandable! The issue is that his platform requires a certain level of responsibility where leaving it at “the government said no homo” does not reflect the same sentiment of “we experienced homophobia from some governments and we know we have so many lgbtq+ supporters in Asia but unfortunately we would not be able to visit you without shows in those countries.” The original comment opened the doors for a lot of xenophobia and racism which white phannies then participated in, generalizing the whole of Asia as a way to comfort/joke back with Dan. I don’t think the comment was inherently harmful, but it just did not fully address the situation at hand. Especially when we’re talking about how their inability to go to a few countries kept them out from ALL of Asia. It wasn’t EVERY government that had an issue. Just enough to mean that they couldn’t get enough shows. That’s important info too.

3) Dan has every right to be hurt and frustrated over this. Again, I just highly doubt that the phans from these countries need white american phans explaining to them why Dan would be so upset and why they should not complain. They live this experience every day. I’m pretty sure they know why he’d be upset. And just because he is upset doesn’t mean they can’t say “hey actually the way you addressed this could have been better please elaborate.”

4) No one is “cancelling” Dan. This was a learning experience. We should be thanking people for teaching us about how to be better allies.

5) If anyone vehemently disagrees with me I will always take respectful criticism, or if someone wants to correct me on anything please please do :)

[ineedpaigebuckets]

I have a request, maybe you can make it a short series 😭 I also had to ask chat gpt to organize it cause I can’t write for shit.

This is what I wrote on my notes app, but I’m going to put the organized version chat gpt gave me as well in another ask.

Anyway, pazzi!

Au pazzi fic where paige and azzi meet bc az family moves to MN and azzi is transferred to Hopkins HS, she meets paige there on the team but she has a gf on the cheerleading team.

They don’t get along at first bc azzi meets a guy her first day there who’s been trying to get with her, azzi likes him back, but what she doesn’t know is that this guy used to make derogatory remarks about paige (homophobia maybe or something else idk) and so paige thinks azzi knew that and still went out of her way to date him, now she thinks she’s straight and homophobic.

Azzi does think she’s straight, and really likes this guy she’s met but as time passes she gets uncomfortable with some things he says or his friends say. She thinks it’s because she knows there’s a lot of queer people in the wbb community, but deep down she worries it might be something else. She lets this comments slide or even laughs (anxiously) along with everyone else to feel “normal” but it feels wrong.

Paige overhears some of this things and it only makes her more mad at azzi, she’s found out they work incredibly well together on the court, insane chemistry, and thinks she can maybe get to know her, but after that she’s just upset about it, about her, she’s heard it before, from other people, from this group, but doesn’t know why she’s letting it hit her so hard when azzi does it.

Some people throw a house party and everyone’s going, the athletes, cheerleaders, azzi’s bf group, etc. Everyone’s drinking, paige is with her gf and some girls on the team and azzi’s with her bf and his friends playing beer pong. Paige and her gf have an argument over paige not stepping up to azzi but paige defends herself saying she can’t let outside conflicts affect the team and their game. Truth is they’ve been having relationship issues since before azzi moved to MN, but Paige’s gf always seemed to be back, this time, paige knew she was probably right, but she didn’t care, she was tired. They break up.

Azzi heard a bit of their argument before they went outside (she didn’t hear when they were talking about her). She felt a little bad, even though she didn’t have a good relationship with paige, nevertheless it was none of her business, until a friend of her bf saw paige come in alone and a little frustrated and said “ooh the dykes broke up again” and azzi’s bf and other friends laughed, this time, azzi wasn’t about to let it slide, maybe it was the liquor courage but she threw her cup of vodka at the guy who made the comment and then looked at her boyfriend and said “control your fucking dog” “if I hear any other bs about anyone on my team, we’re done”.

She then leaves not caring the guy who she got her drink spilled on was calling her a bitch between other insults. She goes to one of the rooms upstairs and lays down on the bed, pondering. Paige, after seeing that scene, goes looking for azzi, not even knowing why, it was none of her business, maybe it was the alcohol in her system. She finds the room azzi is in but not knowing what she was there do in the first place, tries to start an argument with her, azzi defends herself saying she just stood up for her, paige says that she didn’t before and that she was full of shit. They’re both heated and drunk, azzi’s out of words, she knows paige has a right to be angry and she doesn’t know what comes over her, but she starts crying. Paige feels bad and goes over to her, azzi apologizes, and they stay quiet while paige holds azzi for a minute. Paige doesn’t know what comes over her now, but she asks azzi to break up with her boyfriend.

Azzi is taken aback by the request, she knows it’s probably for the best but she doesn’t know why paige sounds like it’s more for her than it is for the sake of the team, etc. Still, azzi locks eyes with paige and tells her she will, if that is he isn’t with some other girl already, they laugh, then they stare at each other quietly. Azzi starts getting nervous and she says they should head back down, but paige grabs her hand and gives her a kiss on her cheek, azzi stares shocked, but it’s only right to do the same, right? She tries to kiss her cheek back but paige moves and they share a kiss on the lips. Azzi is embarrassed and immediately apologizes, but paige grabs her and they start making out, azzi pulls away after a while and says “I’m not gay, just drunk”.

Paige is shocked even though she should have expected this but says “ofc you are, way to ruin the moment”. They don’t know if it’s because they’re drunk but neither of them can get away, like they’re frozen, so they go at it again, until there’s a knock on the door, someone trying to go in but thank god it’s locked. They pretend azzi was throwing up in the bathroom inside the bedroom, and then go back to the party without saying another word to each other. Azzi finds her boyfriend cuddled up with another girl, they exchange words and break up, then she turns around to leave, until she sees paige go past by her and punches azzi’s now ex boyfriend. She’s pulled back by azzi and some other people around them.

Azzi drags Paige outside and argue a little about how azzi had it handled and didn’t need to be saved, paige says it was for herself and all the times he had something to say about her before, but being honest they both didn’t believe that. Paige gets frustrated and says the real reason azzi’s so bothered by this is because of what happened upstairs, they argue some more and then part ways, they’re back to square one.

Idk where to go from there, just very angsty, good ending though pls lol 😞

oh my god i love you!!! i WILL be writing this whenever i can trust me it will be a multi part series of you wanna dm me PLEASE i'll give you credit and like i literally love you 🤩

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

I don’t think that EP 4 of Hazbin really romanticizes Angel’s abuse, but, personally, I am made MUCH more uncomfortable by the fact that the storyboard artist who was the lead for that episode has been very open about the fact that he has a rape fetish.

More discussion below, I’m really wanting this to be the only time I talk about this, as I really don’t like discussing “drama” and try to stick to writing and design critiques.

This felt like something I needed to address though, because it largely changed the lense through which I view Hazbin as a piece of media—please know that this is JUST me talking about my personal frustrations with the background information of this episode, and how it was made—see end of post for TLDR; CONTENT WARNING FOR DISCUSSIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND RAPE:

And. I just want to make it clear that, my issue is NOT with the storyboarder having rape fetish. I don’t understand it, but as long as they’re not ACTUALLY assaulting or hurting anyone, it’s not really mine or anyone else’s business. That goes for anyone with that kind of fetish, honestly.

The problem I have comes from not knowing whether or not any of the scenes depicting extreme abuse and rape in the show were done to explore a darker topic seriously, or if they were done for the artist’s own sexual gratification.

The scenes during “Poison”, to me, are an extremely uncomfortable look at the horrors of sexual abuse and assault and sex trafficking.

But I don’t know, and can’t know, if that’s how the creator of Hazbin and the lead storyboard artist see it, despite claiming they take the story seriously.

I really really want to believe that the scenes were storyboarded in good-faith, as a way to look at these things and help SA victims feel seen, because that’s how the episode has constantly been described by Hazbin’s creator.

However, I just CAN’T believe it knowing what I know about the storyboard artist’s tastes.

They have been very open about shipping Valentino, Angel Dust’s abuser and rapist, with Angel Dust, and have made multiple drawings, comics, and an animatic of Valentino abusing Angel Dust. The storyboard artist has confirmed that the context they see these character’s relationship in is non-consensual.

And AGAIN, I’m not saying that that makes the artist a terrible person or objectively bad or something. As I said, I personally don’t understand it, but I’m not here to be the “fictional character fetish police”.

I’m bringing these things up as examples of things that have caused me to believe that Poison may have been made as fetish material—something that really only upsets me this deeply due to Hazbin Hotel’s creator’s insistence that it was always meant to be “objectively” respectful victim representation somehow. Bringing up these examples is important because it potentially adds more context to the way the Episode 4 was written.

I have a REALLY hard time believing that when lines from one of the storyboarder’s fetish comics were adapted into the show itself in Episode 4.

This is the original fan comic the head storyboarder made vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

This is the dialogue that APPEARS to have been heavily influenced by or adapted into the show— vvvvvvvvvvv

I’ve previously explained how I believe that some of the discussion surrounding Episode 4 of Hazbin were really counterproductive, in that many people, fans and critics alike, were talking about it as if it could be proven objectively whether or not “Poison” was done respectfully.

Im not going back on that, because again, a survivor of SA feeling represented or not by something is EXTREMELY subjective, and I don’t think anyone should try and “disprove” their feelings and opinions. That’s not what I’m trying to do here, and that’s not what I’m about.

I wanted to talk about this to go over my own personal feelings about the situation, and how it’s caused me to lose any last little bit of remaining trust I had in the show runner’s abilities to portray serious topics maturely.

I want to believe so badly that Poison shows Angel’s Dust’s graphic abuse to say something about abuse as a whole, to show how awful it is, and to try and support victims and help them feel seen. I initially thought that was the case when I watched the episode.

But learning the context behind how the episode was made and who storyboarded that has changed my perspective.

In a lot of ways, the way I feel about it is very similar to how I now look back at shows like iCarly and the Amanda Show, which I loved as a kid. When I first watched iCarly when I was young, I thought the random foot jokes were funny. I thought it was just the kids being silly.

But now as an adult, knowing and understanding how much control the show’s creator had over the actors, and may have been putting his personal foot fetish into the show has changed it for me. I have the context now behind the reasons those sorts of jokes and scenes were written into the show. And it’s upsetting to know that. It’s changed how I view those scenes.

I experienced the exact same thing learning about the Hazbin storyboarder’s fetish

I can’t see Poison or think of episode 4 without wondering if it was made as fetish fuel for the artist. If so, it changes the way I see the episode, because it’s no longer a look at the horrors of SA and rape, it’s fetishizing the very thing it’s claiming to take seriously.

And if so, it makes the 3 days of Hazbin’s creator arguing with people online that the scene was done with victims in mind and to be respectful really frustrating.

I mean. If they WANTED to make a show with a rape fetish, then ok. Well. I wouldn’t want to watch it but like. That’s their prerogative, and as long as no one is actually being hurt, that’s fine. I don’t get it, but whatever.

But for me, the creator’s INSISTENCE that the portrayal of abuse was objectively respectful and not fetishizing abuse in any way, when we KNOW that the storyboard head of the episode and Poison has a rape fetish involving Angel Dust and Valentino, leaves an incredibly bad taste in my mouth.

It makes me doubt that the more mature themes in Hazbin are being written with real consideration for survivors. That, coupled with fans saying that SA survivors and viewers who were upset about Poison’s portrayal of abuse owed Hazbin’s creator an apology of all things…just because they were upset by or didn’t like the episode, makes me feel so gross about everything.

I just don’t know what else to make of it all.

Anyway TLDR/

-The Lead Storyboard artist of Episode 4 of Hazbin Hotel having a rape fetish they express through art of Angel Dust/Valentino doesn’t bother me personally. I don’t understand it, but I don’t think a fetish like that makes someone a terrible person.

-What DOES bother me is that, when many SA survivors discussed and brought up their very valid concerns about how the Episode would be handled given the above, they were largely dismissed by the creator and fans.

-The fact that I just don’t know if the episode was made as fetish material or not has changed the whole context of the episode for me. I want to believe the episode was made with good intentions like Hazbin’s creator claims, but I can’t knowing what I do about who was involved in making the episode.

-And FINALLY while everything I spoke about has changed the way I personally see the episode, if you, or anyone, still find comfort or strength in the episode or love it, I am NOT trying to take that from you. I am not trying to convince anyone that they need to have my same opinions or feelings on this. I am not trying to argue with anyone or act like I have a moral high ground over anyone else. I am talking ONLY about how learning more about the person in charge of a lot of Episode 4 of Hazbin made me feel personally, and changed my view on the episode as a whole, which may affect my future critiques and thoughts.

[voheitmp3]

we just had. the weirdest debate ever? on a video about someone being frustrated with lesbian exclusionists and queer exclusionists as a whole we commented that the lesboy hate was getting out of hand, and that it was upsetting to see, especially during pride month.

someone replied and said “i would love to but 9 times out of 10 it’s used to be homophobic to lesbians.”

i replied with “then block and move on? people don't need to make a big fuss over something that doesn't matter. i'm frustrated about it as a butch lesbian who just wants their label to be respected and accepted.”

they replied with “we should address the problem of homophobia with men pretending to be lesbians tho. butches are fine but when you're a full on man saying you're wlw, you really shouldn't be using "reclaimed" slurs”

imo this is already where it went off the rails. i said “i want to be accepted” and they replied with “but what about men” which was Not relevant. to this comment what so ever .

the debate continued with me replying to them with “i know this is controversial, but if a man genuinely feels and believes that he is a lesbian, he is one. sexuality and gender are fluid, and people are going to identify in a way you deem “wrong”.”

this person replied to that with “so a woman can identify as a gay man? or is it only “labels are flexible” when it comes to women’s labels?”

i replied with “no of course she can? the label turigirl exists for a reason? anyone can identify however they’d like to. that’s the point of what i just said”

personally. i don’t think it’s too crazy or ridiculous to say that. people are free to identify how they want, and rigid gender or sexuality “rules” isn’t going to change that.

their response to this is “woah omg you did not just say that. that’s so disrespectful to the victims of the aids crisis and ongoing victims of homophobia”

which. genuinely what. i have no idea how you would ever get to that conclusion.

i asked where that curveball came from, and they said “from your homophobia. it is a complete disregard of individuals who have been socially ostracized for their identities to say anyone can use any label no matter how they actually identify”

which is genuinely kind of crazy to me. because in my opinion and the opinion of a lot of my friends, my view on labels is completely understandable and reasonable?

in response, i said “you seem to be disregarding my own personal experience with homophobia. anyone can use whatever label they want, because that is how free will works. it's not homophobic to say that at all?” which, because of my experiences with homophobia (i have been hospitalized several times due to queer/trans violence) is a reasonable thing to say.

they send back “how would i know your personal experience first of all? and second of all it is homophobic to say that men can be wlw and women can be mlm when lesbians and gay men fought so hard during the aids crisis to not be seen as monsters.”

although i’m not quite sure how that is totally relevant, i think you’re making people who don’t identify the way you think they should as monsters, or “wrong”, which if i’m being honest sounds a bit like homophobia to me.

i then ask about listening their perspective in dms, to see if they’d let me try to understand why they think oppressive boxes have something to do with how you’re supposed to identify, but they said that “i have made my perspective very clear and backed it with research, like requested. if you are not able to understand this complex issue, that is your responsibility and not mine to educate yourself.”

which if i had to ask for a more detailed explanation, i don’t think they made it very clear, but i suppose we all can’t care about queer people.

i’m not sure how mentioning the aids crisis is the same thing as doing research against my point, but again, i don’t think they were very clear at explaining anything.

anyway, i’m posting this here to break the echo chamber of my friends all completely agreeing with me, to see if maybe i was just missing something or whatever

;; 🪶/\ 🪓

[sovhs]

HARVEY

: masterlist.

O25. help (half written)

“ju’s out again.” julie said with a small huff. “lemme guess, she’s with aeri and heejin again.” belle said, to which the girl nodded her head to. “they’re getting really close these days.” natty pointed out and julie could only sigh in response.

the girls sat across the booth, haneul’s eyes fixed on the older girl, who was fidgeting with her hands beneath the table. minnie broke the awkward silence that had built up. “ju doesn’t know you guys came here?”

julie shook her head, clearing her throat softly as she set her phone down. “no. as far as ju knows, natty and i are at work, belle’s out with her other friends, and haneul’s in class.”

they felt bad for lying to their friend about their whereabouts, but it wasn’t like they could tell her the truth—considering the circumstances.

soyeon nodded slightly, her gaze glued to the table separating her and minnie from the others. “.. has she told you anything?” she asked hesitantly.

“nope. we—well, i—expected that,” belle replied. “she doesn’t open up about anything that could be bothering her.”

soyeon’s brow furrowed at belle’s words. “why not?”

julie shrugged, leaning back with her arms crossed. “that’s just how she is—never wanting to ‘burden’ people with her issues. it’s sad, honestly,” she murmured.

natty glanced at the two older girls before speaking up. “unnie,” she addressed soyeon, “you seriously don’t remember what happened?”

soyeon closed her eyes, letting out a low sigh as she shook her head. “i don’t. i’ve been trying to piece together what happened, but i just.. i can’t remember.”

natty nodded, her expression softening as she realized how little soyeon knew. haneul, who had been quiet, suddenly narrowed her eyes and pulled out her phone, checking something.

“what are you doing?” minnie asked, glancing at the youngest.

“ju posted these the same night soyeon-unnie drunk-texted her,” haneul murmured, her tone sharp. soyeon cringed at the mention of her messages.

haneul placed her phone on the table, and minnie and soyeon leaned over to read the screen. “…i called her at 4 am?” soyeon muttered.

“seems like it,” minnie replied.

julie, who had remained quiet, appeared tense. she bit the inside of her cheek, as if holding back from saying something.

“jul?” haneul prompted gently.

julie raised a hand, signaling her to wait. then, natty spoke up again, her voice firmer this time. “unnie, if i may ask, why’d you get drunk in the first place? and why call ju instead of one of your other friends?”

soyeon stiffened at the questions. her hands grew clammy, and she avoided their gazes.

“what do you mean by you needed her?”

the sudden interrogation left soyeon feeling cornered. her mind raced to find a reasonable explanation, but the more she tried to make sense of her actions, the harder it became.

“why did i drink so much? why ju, out of everyone? why did i say i needed her?”

despite her efforts to recall her thought process, all soyeon could manage was a quiet, “i don’t know.” she followed it with a meek, “i’m sorry.”

minnie placed a comforting hand on soyeon’s shoulder, while belle mirrored the gesture with julie, attempting to calm the tension.

“.. unnie, why’d you call us here?” natty asked after a moment of silence, the air heavier than before.

“i wanted to know how ju’s doing,” soyeon admitted. “i don’t know what’s going on with her anymore, and i just.. i feel like i’m somehow responsible.” she paused, her leg bouncing nervously under the table. “i never meant to hurt her. whatever i did to upset her, i want to apologize.”

natty, ever perceptive, frowned. “that doesn’t explain why you called us here. if you want to fix things with ju, you should talk to her—not us.”

“that’s the thing,” soyeon interjected, her voice tinged with frustration. “she blocked me. i doubt she’d even want to see me in person.”

soyeon glanced at minnie, who gave her an encouraging nod. “.. i just—I really want to make it up to her. right my wrongs. and i was hoping you could help me figure out how.”

the four exchanged glances, silent yet understanding. it was as though they could read each other’s thoughts without speaking.

belle cleared her throat softly, nodding before finally saying the words soyeon had been hoping to hear. “okay, unnie. we’ll help you.”

“what do you need us to do?” natty added, her tone cautious but sincere.

the small offer of assistance brought a faint, relieved smile to soyeon’s lips. “just..”

─

it was almost midnight, yet yn was still alone at home. aeri and heejin had dropped her off earlier, both needing to tend to their schedules the next day.

the younger girl lay sprawled on the couch, rewatching ‘you’ for what felt like the nth time that month.

she groaned internally, reaching for her phone in hopes of seeing some kind of update from her friends about what time they’d be back—nothing, just like earlier.

“how long are they even allowed to work ot…” yn muttered to herself before settling back down.

after maybe two or three more episodes, she began to drift off to sleep—that was, until she heard the door swing open and her four friends burst in like a marching band.

the sudden noise made her sit up, brows furrowing slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest. “where were you guys?”

natty waved a hand dismissively. “what’re you so worked up for? we told you where we were going, ju,” she said. yn eyed the girl, suspicious of something though she brushed it off with a small scoff.

“.. whatever.” yn grumbled.

belle chuckled as julie moved to the couch, plopping down next to—or more accurately, on—the younger girl.

“awhh, did juju miss us?” julie teased, wrapping her arms around ju’s waist and hugging her close.

“ew, no,” yn shot back, squirming as she tried to pry the older girl’s hands off of her.

“sure you didn’ttt,” belle giggled.

“watching ‘you’ again? this is like the sixth time this month,” haneul chimed in as she took a seat on the couch.

“okay, and? beck is hot,” ju retorted.

belle and natty settled down as haneul shrugged. “’course you would say that.”

[beigepillow]

God, the chapter hasn't even come out yet and people are already starting to demonize Doumeki. I'm really sorry, and it's probably not a popular opinion, but I really don't understand how Doumeki is supposed to know what's going on in Yashiro's head. He feels one thing, but says and does something completely different. We know that. Yes. But Doumeki can't read minds. Yashiro's body says yes. But in words, Yashiro also behaves sarcastic, cold and sometimes cruel towards Doumeki. Nothing changed. It's difficult to understand what's going on in a person's head. To believe that he loves you and if you open up to him again, this time he won’t leave you and you won’t get a bullet from him? Of course, I’m also annoyed by this whole situation and I want them to have a normal conversation! But to really demonize Doumeki... I can understand his behavior. How can I fully understand Yashiro's behavior. Yoneda wrote Doumeki as more than just a love interest. She created an interesting character with many good and bad qualities. With his own past and with his own traumas. Both Yashiro and Doumeki have huge trust issues. The fact that Yashiro is reflecting is already great progress!!! Doumeki keeps to himself but gives Yashiro space. They both go towards each other! Yes, not as quickly as we would like, but still. eh. It just upsets me that it feels like fans are ready to just destroy Doumeki for even the slightest bit of negative feelings towards Yashiro. As if Doumeki has no right to be jealous, offended, insolent... This makes me so frustrated(

Yeah, I understand this feeling well. I am not sure if you ever came across my blog a few months ago but I actually started out as almost a Doumeki defense blog lol. Most of my posts were about Doumeki’s pov because I felt there was a lot of harshness towards him. Ultimately I think the main issue those people have against Doumeki is that they don’t like Doumeki outside of being Yashiro’s love interest. That means Doumeki is not allowed to be a fully fleshed out character with his own insecurities and issues; he just needs to be whatever Yashiro needs him to be and he should know that even without any communication from Yashiro. Doumeki is supposed to be Yashiro’s lover, therapist and emotional whipping boy. A large part of the issue maybe certain interpretations of them as characters where there is a belief that Doumeki is this jealous, possessive man who only cares about having Yashiro at his side and Yashiro is the selfless one who only cares about doing what is best for Doumeki have influenced how we view their actions. We believe the worst of Doumeki while Yashiro is only at his mercy. The thing is Doumeki is acting in a way that Yashiro wanted in the past and pushing down his own desires to do it. He is not exactly happy with this arrangement either. Even when he was sweet, sensitive Doumeki, there was a lot of criticism towards him. There was even criticism of him for expressing he wants Yashiro to want only him. Doumeki is trying the best he can but Yashiro’s trauma goes beyond him. He can’t heal Yashiro nor should he be expected to. He also shouldn’t be expected to constantly sacrifice his own needs and desires for Yashiro and to never express any negative emotion about Yashiro’s actions. That is not an equal relationship. Some people have so much empathy for Yashiro but almost none for Doumeki. The most interesting thing is that if you even suggest Doumeki and Yashiro separate, those people would also hate that idea because Yashiro’s happiness is so reliant on Doumeki. I feel your frustration, anon. I feel like I can rant about this forever.

[fefairys]

me: ugh this persons opinion is pissing me off *feels myself about to go into another rage spiral* fuck this i’m just gonna unfollow finally

other me: but that’s your friend! and isn’t it good to have friends with differing opinions to expose yourself to dealing with the frustration of a differing opinion so you don’t rage spiral every time?

me: yes because that’s been working so well. that’s why we took a break from tumblr after that dysphoria-induced dry-heaving sob session that started from a tumblr post on a similar topic. because being exposed to “differing opinions” is good for us!

other me: well maybe you should grow up! if this person, whose other opinions you agree with and trust and find based, and who you kind of consider a friend, thinks like this, maybe you’re in the wrong!

me: yeah, maybe i am in the wrong. i don’t know. but it still hurts and i want to stop hurting. the peoples closest to me who are actually my friends and love me agree with my opinion on this.

other me: but some of them are still mutuals/friends with people you see posting stuff that makes us upset. if they’re able to casually brush off those opinions, why can’t you?

me: i don’t know i guess im unwell. i mean jesus look what i’m writing right now. am i really intending on posting this publicly to my main tumblr blog with over 3,000 followers?

other me: it would seem so. anyway. if you admit that this is a symptom of you being unwell, don’t you want to try and get better?

me: fuck dude i don’t know. is there any benefit to it? i’ve never encountered this attitude in the wild—

another voice: because the people with that opinion are too scared of violence and alienation to admit this in the flesh world.

???: good.

me: hey that’s not cool. i just hate this i just want to be heard and listened to and understood about this and i hate being at such fundamental odds with people in my own community! i hate the divide this is causing amongst us! it makes me sick! and apparently i have to be the one to unfollow because no matter how many posts i make in direct opposition to their views, i guess they’re just not noticing?!?

other me: or they don’t care? and you care way too much and this isn’t that big of a deal. they probably just roll their eyes and keep scrolling when they see you reblog something like that. why can’t you do the same?

me: because doesn’t that suck????? i hate the idea that these mutuals of mine are reading my impassioned views on the subject and ROLLING THEIR EYES like how fucking dismissive is that?? that’s my WHOLE issue is that i feel like i’m not being listened to, that the things i say don’t matter because i’m JUST A STUPID GIRL, ARENT I.

other me: ok calm down you don’t need to misgender yourself for emphasis.

me: anyway. i don’t want to just roll my eyes and keep scrolling because if my opinion on this matters so much to me, i should think highly of their opinion too, and treat is seriously. i shouldn’t just roll my eyes and move on! i have to consider it! consider if i’m wrong! again! and again and again and again! god dammit we should have stayed on tumblr dot com slash timeline slash blog underscore subscriptions…

other me: but that’s even worse! a super insular bubble you curated of only people who have the exact same opinion as you on this? tsk tsk. stop trying to avoid confronting your biases.

me: i look this bias in the face on a daily basis and question myself over it constantly, yet i keep falling back in the same place. when do i get to decide that i’m secure in my position and stop??

other me: maybe never. we’ve recently realized we were wrong about a LOT of things we thought we had secure positions on. maybe the only solution is to change our mind.

me: that would be disingenuous. i changed my opinion on those other things because *i* changed and i would have been a hypocrite to hold true to my old opinions. that would have just been me lying to myself and repressing myself. i don’t do that anymore. “changing my mind” in this case would feel like a total lie. i simply don’t agree. my experiences have taught me otherwise.

other me: ok. so be at peace with that and stop spiraling every time someone disagrees with you.

me: but they don’t JUST disagree, they turn it into “you’re stupid if you disagree” “you’re a threat, you’re harming us, if you disagree”

other me: but they’re the ones that are wrong and harming US. just stop listening.

me: i don’t want this to be an us vs them thing i just want us all to love each other and find space for each other and listen to each other. i feel guilty for wanting to plug my ears of the topic.

other me: it’s getting late. i think we should go to bed.

me: but i’m still thinking about this

other: pointlessly. you already unfollowed them.

me: only one of many. i’m going to have to have this thought loop so many more times. and it’s slightly different for each person depending on Factors…

other me: we need to go to sleep.

me: but i’m still thinking about this

other me: we’re tired. you’re starting to feel dysphoric again. turn on a video and go to sleep.

me: i’m not a man anyway so why do i care i’m basically just a cis girl who has no right to align myself with being trans at all and—

other me: GO TO SLEEP

[veronica-17-hood]

i hate my birthday. not because something bad happens every year, though that does have something to do with it. but because for some reason i get more sensitive. i hate attention and i hate that no one listens to me. i hate that when i ask for something everyone goes around and try’s to come from the heart but it doesn’t work. i hate that it’s my day but i can never spend it how i want it. i hate that i feel like a burden. i hate when people say it’s your day because i hate that feeling. i hate feeling like i have to pick everything and make decisions. because chances are the people around won’t like what i pick. i remember on my 15th birthday i wanted to ride an electric skateboard instead of a scooter and my mother yelled at me. i told her i didn’t want to ride anything anymore and then i was lectured by taking the fun out of it. i later rode the scooter. on my 17th my friends planned a surprise to watch a movie where i was forced to pick a movie to watch. i chose one i thought they would find funny but no one laughed, and later we didn’t even finish the movie because everyone got bored. i’m now going to be 20 and i still hate the feeling. i still get anxious when people ask me what i want and get frustrated when they get upset with me. i still give into what my mother says. if she tells me not to wear something because someone else did or because it may cause issues i don’t. i don’t have childish reactions to simple things anymore and for that i get told “i’m not thrilled.” so than i overcompensate. i say someone may come over early but to that she says i wanted this person to, you can spend one on one time with them. and yet again i fold. i get upset because i don’t like being useless, and on my birthday i am. you aren’t supposed to help or decorate. suddenly my family like “simple” for my birthday but “extra” for everyone else’s. i’m still hurt by the fact that everyone wanted to plan my mothers before mine. but again, i hate my birthday, so why would i care? i care because even though i can’t stand the attention i wish it seemed like they cared. i don’t need everyone to sing me happy birthday or to decorate the house. but it would be nice if they could make it seem like i was more than just a cake maker or occasional babysitter. or that i could wear things or do things without it being “copying” someone else. i wish i didn’t feel like such a burden. because that then carry’s over to my birthday. the burden of feeling like they have to care about me. the burden of feeling like they have to talk to me. the burden of not being enough. the burden of pretending to like me. the burden of doing what i want. that is all what comes with the title of “birthday girl.” and i hate it. so yes, i hate my birthday. not because my family doesn’t love me, they do. but because i hate that my role gets switched and it feels forced. i hate the fact that if i want something celebrated i have to set it up. i hate the fact that no matter what something will go wrong. i hate that i am the way i am. it’s as simple as that.

[oscconfessions]

This’ll turn into a long rant so I’m sorry in advance but the way some of the AIB fandom (not all of it, and hopefully not the majority) treats some of the female characters — Nabla and Pitchfork in specific — in comparison to some of the male characters — Alef and Glowstick in specific — is actually insane to me.

As a preface, I don’t support GatlingGroink, I just like AIB as a series and wish that it could be picked up and continued by a different creator.

There’s such a wild double standard.

Pitchfork will get harassed, catcalled, and perused for who knows how long by Glowstick, even after telling him multiple times that she doesn’t like him. When she’s at her limit, she lashes out at him, she yells and breaks something, because he literally would not listen to her otherwise.

But Glowstick is the victim here? Glowstick is seen by some people as the poor little guy who got his heart broken and “really Pitchfork didn’t have to yell at him!!! She could’ve gently declined, he didn’t deserve it 🥺🥺” she did! She tried to! He didn’t listen! She had a right to be upset, being constantly flirted with and harassed is so frustrating! And if yelling is the only way to get it through his head that she doesn’t want to date him, so be it!

Don’t even talk to me about how that mindset feeds into the societal standard of how women need to protect a man’s feelings even though the man does not show any regard to how she feels. (Which is also persistent through this next ramble.)

And then there’s Nabla and Alef. Maybe people missed it, because of how far apart episode 4 was from the rest of the series, but Alef bullies Nabla. Often. They’re related, and he’s been bullying her for years, and you can’t say it’s just familial riffing because no! Familial riffing doesn’t have one person completely belittling the other at every turn, as Alef belittles Nabla. Alef insults her, he could’ve destroyed her belongings and doesn’t care, and he treats her like garbage multiple times throughout the series.

That’s like, textbook bullying.

But the moment Nabla tries to fight back, it results in an accident (Alef getting stuck literally. Was not purposeful. Nabla and Glue just laughed at it because Alef was finally making a fool of himself after making Nabla look foolish and stupid and lesser for who knows how long. He was getting a taste of his own medicine and they found it funny), and suddenly Nabla is a horrible monster and Alef is just an innocent little guy who didn’t deserve any of what happened.

Are you? Serious?

Alef experiencing the same humiliation he inflicted upon Nabla for the first time doesn’t make him a good person, and it doesn’t invalidate the harm he caused. Nabla laughing at him because her bully isn’t the one in power anymore doesn’t suddenly make her a terrible person.

Like. I get that Nabla’s issue is far less black and white than Pitchfork’s (I 100% believe Pitchfork is in the right in that situation, and no one can change my mind). But at the same time, Nabla is a victim of bullying who finally fights back and is villainized for it, while her bully’s behavior is excused because she did one mean thing to him.

Again, this is not talking about the entire AIB fandom, just a loud minority of people I have seen within it. Also sorry for this rant being so long, I have Feelings about it.

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