#and everyone's road is valid no matter what it looks like

[ceilidhtransing]

It's so good to go through the Ace Week tag and read everyone's different experiences with asexuality and other ace-spectrum identities.

What's particularly interesting to me is when people talk about having had really long and difficult journeys realising they were ace - because for me, it was pretty much instant. As an adolescent I never paid much attention to my sexuality, passively assuming I was some kind of late bloomer, dreading the apparent inevitability that at some point I would have to have sex but rationalising that since everyone does it and everyone likes it then some day I'd feel the same (or at least have to put up with it, because what other option is there), until one day an acquaintance casually mentioned asexuality in conversation. From this first hearing of the word to me fully identifying as ace was about 1-2 days. It was like switching on a light. The fact that I'm ace was just so obvious and unavoidable, and as soon as I heard that what I already felt had A Word and was actually recognised as A Thing, that was it, I knew that was me. Seven and a half years later, that's still how I feel.

So I guess what I want to communicate - aside from just adding one more perspective and experience to the communal discussion that happens every October - is that it's entirely OK if the realisation of your sexuality comes not after a lengthy, agonising process of self-reflection, but rather very quickly after first hearing that a word exists. Your identity feeling so obvious and unquestionable that it required almost zero period of questioning doesn't make it any less real or valid or accurate than an identity reached after years of uncertainty and scrutiny. I think sometimes in the queer community we talk about long, slow realisations more than we talk about these lightbulb "oh, right, that's me" moments, but the latter definitely happen too (as does everything in between!) and you're absolutely valid no matter what journey you took to reach your identity.

[cheemscakecat]

Fun/Interesting details in Expiration Date

Heavy knows that Pauling is calling them, and lets Scout be the one to answer. Also, road safety because he’s not distracted driving.

Medic is so hyped about tumor bread.

Hoovy smelling the sandwich and deciding it’s safe to eat [or that it doesn’t matter at this point].

Pyro standing like that. He don’t know what’s going on, but he’ll still be polite. Also, Sniper just chillin in the back with a poker face the whole time.

Medic smiles at Soldier as they walk past. Engineer’s got that Conhager death-cheating focus at the moment.

Spy’s eyes widen angrily when he realizes it’s Scout at the door and then he smirks like; “Oh hi! Twelve hours was enough time for you to get bored of my absence, then?”, not expecting a sincere apology [maybe one orchestrated by the other teammates, but not Scout].

There was some vitriol behind that “***”, look at his nose. He does not want Scout to gloat, try to prank him again, or give a fake apology. And that’s valid, since the team dying is something Scout should have taken seriously, and the last wishes handled with respect. He crossed a line that Spy doesn’t take lightly.

Dad, I threwed up. But in all seriousness, that’s the “My family is dysfunctional, and I don’t know how to be emotionally honest with people” posture.

See my bucket scene analysis for more on these two.

He didn’t say “You’re terrible with girls” in a snide or smug tone, he said it with like actual parental concern. “Scout, no you have three days! Do you want to die rejected or die before you can enjoy being together? No. Don’t do this to yourself.”

Look at that cup, he did not need a refill. This fake smirk and disinterest is Spy’s way of checking how serious Scout is about this last wish and taking his advice. And when he goes “This never leaves this room” Spy perks up.

Medic was taking a sample of bread tumor puss [or injecting it with something].

They have a whole entire wrestling ring, how did I never notice that?

This is one of those multiple choice questions where you can choose more than one answer and have it be right. But the chicken in combination with the other options looses you points, and just taking the chicken is like the token wrong answer.

Spy sighs when he realizes Scout chose just the chicken. Like chile, I gave you multiple options and you still went with your go-to that doesn’t work!

This room has a gym floor, which implies Spy took a bunch of fancy stuff from one of his rooms just for this date training. Also shoutout to the other teammates for helping with this.

Okay, so most of these decorations came from Pyro, who Scout is terrified of. Archimedes came from Medic, who Scout also doesn’t want to make angry, and the grass cutouts are potentially part of the base camouflage. But that disco ball? That belongs to Scout, he just doesn't want anyone to know he’s real into that. [The team would not judge, but his brothers would, so.]

Man when he gets his heart broken, I hope he finds the right girl for him. He deserves better than Pauling always making excuses to turn him down instead of telling him like it is.

Foreshadowing Solly being romantical towards Zhanna. Look at this content man.

Spy holding his knife like this. There’s no reason for it to be a threat, so he’s just genuinely in the habit of doing this while listening. Or while nervous, which also makes sense.

[theprettynosferatu]

Humble Starts

Good evening. Let us talk, you and I, under the moon and the stars- don't worry. They won't tell anyone. Neither will I. It's just you and me.

I have good news and bad news. The bad news first, as is customary:

You are getting worse.

But therein lie the good news, don't they? For we both know you've wanted this so, so badly. Oh, sure, you may have uttered the usual banal protestations about not letting this... kink affect you, about how this is the last time you rub to such filth, about how you'll do better, be better.

Starting tomorrow.

And tomorrow.

And tomorrow...

How many "tomorrows" have passed now? And look at you. Oh, look at you. So beautiful in your decadence. So pure in the way you have been twisted and molded and indoctrinated. Like a machine, oiled, perfect for use.

Rubbing it all in, night after night.

I do wonder how it started. it would be such a delight to know, to pinpoint the moment something *clicked* in your head and your downfall was inevitable.

Did you see a caption that stirred something delightful and shameful between your legs? Was it a story? A video? A dream? Do tell. Let me in. I can use that to sculpt that mind even further. And isn't that what you want?

I've been around for a long, long time. I've seen so many souls down here. What road lead you to this place?

Were you the overachiever, the one that everyone thought had it so easy because you were oh-so-smart? Did the weight of their expectations send you grasping, searching for a way to turn your mind off?

Were you told you're dumb so much that you ended up accepting it, embracing it, turning your own stupidity into something valuable by becoming a silly little bimbo men would want to fuck?

Were you the pretty one, the one all the boys doted on? Did you grow to despise them, to use them? Did you get bored? Did you dream of someone or some thing that would treat you like nothing but a cumrag, that could wrap you around their fingers and take none of your shit?

Were you the feminist, so strong in her beliefs, so determined, that longed so much for something that you felt was so, so wrong? Did you get wet the first time you saw a picture of a woman on a leash?

Were you the shy girl, borderline invisible, that suddenly found attention online? How did that feel? And when did you realize the more perverted and messed up you were, the more you were rewarded with praise from strangers you'll never meet? How long did it take you to cross the line between flirting online and showing that slutty body, knowing people would get off on you? When did that become your favorite form of validation?

Or perhaps you were something else entirely.

It doesn't matter. You are here now. And there's no going back.

I might have... nudged you along. But make no mistake: you broke yourself.

And THAT, above all, is what gets you so desperate and needy. That's the cherry on top of the corruption you've made yourself take in, like dark tendrils going inside every hole...

Well, if it makes you feel any better, let me let you in on a little secret:

You never had a chance.

This was always what you were going to become.

Now isn't that delicious? It doesn't matter what you were, long ago, in another life. That was only the beginning.

And from such humble beginnings are great stories made of!

[celaenaeiln]

Where Dick's compartmentalization came from and how it affects the family

What's special about Dick, is that people far older than him see him as an equal because he's able to understand them and keep up with them, and that takes a massive toll on his mental health. He's been acting like a mother, brother, and partner to people twice his age from childhood.

The thing that really hurts is that when Dick's parents were gone, he didn't get angry. He just got really, really sad. And even though he was sad, all he wanted to do was help Batman-help Bruce. He just wanted to help this sad, older man. So at a time when he was grieving, he couldn't even properly grieve because Batman was grieving harder than him. He put his feelings on the back burner so he could fix Bruce.

Dick is not happy right now. Not because of Bruce's response but he's just feeling overwhelmingly sad because his parents have died. Yet look at the way he acts. He forces himself to pretend he's happy to alleviate Bruce's guilt, stress, anger over the case he's in. He didn't want to be another thing that makes him sad. That's horrifying behavior for a child of 8.

What really astonishes me is that Dick was a child with the maturity of an adult-meaning-he delicately handled Bruce's feelings while being careful not to overstep and yet still adjusting his behavior. He never tried to lash out Bruce. Ever. He got mad once at Batman when everything became too much but once Batman revealed himself to be Bruce, he never let his anger out on him. Or anyone.

And that makes me so sad because this is a child.

Look at his size compared to batman-tiny!

But this small boy controlled his emotions so his guardian wouldn't feel hurt when he was the one grieving makes me want to cry.

Here's another version of Batman and pre-robin Dick that showcases Dick's emotional maturity from a small age.

In Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder-Dick's parent's died from a gunshot and Batman kidnaps Dick at the circus, before his parent's bodies have barely gotten cold.

Dick's response to the new situation and his parent's passing?

"No. Don't go there. Not now."

I can practically feel him compartmentalizing through the screen.

"Yes, Sir. I'll be brave."

He doesn't get a break. No matter the retelling of Dick's orgin story, Dick puts himself together to take care of the man that is supposed to be taking care of him.

But just as much of a toll this takes on Dick, it has a signifcant effect on Bruce too. Bruce cannot function if he knows that Dick isn't okay. I don't remember where but somewhere in the comics Bruce admits to resenting Dick for having amnesia. For not being with him. By him.

His reaction to Dick not remembering them?

The panel-where Dick screams at Bruce with tears in his eyes-it seems as though Bruce has them too. He's so heartbroken. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

In Road to Dark Crisis, Dick tells Jon

This is so true but the difference between Bruce and Dick is that while Bruce does it for his kids, he has no one to take care of him. So Dick stepped at an age far too young for it to be okay. I mean even therapists struggle with taking care of their patients problems and usually they're around the same age the patient. But Dick? No experience he took the entire job on his shoulders. Not only that but Dick acts as the whole family and titan's family therapist.

Tim

Tim goes to Dick about everything-every single one of his problems because they have such a good relationship. He tells him about his dad.

Not to mention the main thing he does for Tim

He puts his feelings and priorities on the back burner so he can take care of other people.

Jason

He takes care of Jason's emotional well-being. He tell him he's proud of him and validates him instead of putting him down like Bruce does.

Donna and Roy

The biggest reason why everyone loves Dick is because he accepts their mistakes and works with them and loves them instead of punishing them for it. They don't get that from anyone else. Especially Bruce.

That's another reason why he's so good with kids. It's because he has been designated to playing the role of the parent his entire life. So he gives them everything he has, welcomes them with open arms, takes care of them and makes them feel fixed. Even if it's at the cost of his own well-being. So that's why they fight but in the end also why none of them can let go of Dick. They need him.

[vilentia]

Jealousy's Grip

Daryl Dixon x reader

You and Daryl had been together for months, surviving the harsh realities of the apocalypse side by side. You never thought you could be so lucky to find love in a world like this, but Daryl had captured your heart from the moment you met him.

You had initially bonded over your shared struggles and experiences at the prison. You found comfort in his quiet strength and determination, and he admired your resilience and compassion.

One night, as you both sat by the fire, he took your hand in his and told you how much he cared about you. You confessed your feelings in return, and from that moment on, you were inseparable.

You navigated the dangers of the prison together, facing walkers, hostile survivors, and the ever-present threat of death. But through it all, you had each other, and your love only grew stronger with each passing day.

As you set out on the road again, leaving the prison behind, you knew that you and Daryl would face whatever challenges came your way together. And as long as you had each other, you knew you could survive anything the apocalypse threw your way.

However, when your group arrived in Alexandria, everything changed. You noticed how the women there looked at Daryl, their eyes lingering a little too long on his muscular frame and rugged features. You felt a pang of jealousy in your heart.

But Daryl was oblivious to it all. He only had eyes for you, and he showed it in every little way he could. From the way he brushed his fingers against yours when you walked together, to the way he held you close at night, you knew he was completely and utterly devoted to you.

Daryl's tough exterior was well known to everyone who met him, but you were the only one who saw the softer side of him. He would do anything to make you happy, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone.

On one of his runs, he had stumbled upon a meadow of wildflowers, and he had picked a handful for you, carefully arranging them in a makeshift vase. He had presented them to you with a shy smile, his calloused fingers rough against the delicate petals.

And despite his lack of culinary skills, he had taken it upon himself to learn how to cook your favorite meal on the campfire. He had burned a few things in the process, but the look of pride on his face when he finally got it right made it all worth it.

These little gestures meant the world to you, and you treasured each and every one of them. It was in these moments that you saw the real Daryl, the man behind the tough exterior, and it only made you love him more.

As the days passed, you began to relax a little, knowing that Daryl's heart belonged to you and you alone. You even found yourself enjoying the company of the women in Alexandria, sharing stories and laughs with them.

But when a group of them invited Daryl to a game night, you couldn't help the twinge of jealousy that resurfaced. You watched with a sense of unease as they laughed and flirted with him. They seemed determined to get a reaction out of him, leaning in close and batting their eyelashes or trying to get him to smile or laugh at their jokes.

Daryl, however, was having none of it. He had never been comfortable around new people, especially those who were overly friendly or flirty. So when the women of Alexandria started showing interest in him, he was wary and guarded.

He tried to be polite, but he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable whenever they got too close or tried to touch him. He wasn't interested in their advances, not when he had the love of his life right beside him.

No matter where he was or what he was doing, his attention always seemed to drift back to you. He would catch glimpses of you out of the corner of his eye, or he would find himself gravitating towards you without even realizing it.

He didn't need anyone else's attention or validation, not when he had you. You were his anchor in a world that had been turned upside down, the one constant in a sea of chaos.

You could see the disappointment on their faces when he declined their offers to stay longer, choosing instead to return to your side.

As you settled in for the night, Daryl wrapped his arms around you, his chin resting on your shoulder. When you asked him about the women's advances, he was honest with you. "I don't want nobody else," he said, his voice low and gruff. "I got everything I need right here with you." he whispered, his breath warm on your skin "I ain't never gonna love anyone like I love you.". He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he breathed in the scent of your hair.

Your heart swelled with love for him, knowing that he meant every word. You turned your head to meet his lips in a tender kiss, knowing that no matter what happened, you and Daryl would always be each other's forever. In that moment, surrounded by the dangers of the apocalypse and the uncertainties of the future, you found a sense of peace in each other's love.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Time To Hit The Showers (Kinktober)

Word Count: 2.4k

John was sitting silently in the passenger seat while you drove you both back home. He was seething with frustration, his hands gripping the seat belt tightly. You could see that he was upset, but you knew better than to ask him about it right now. You just kept your eyes on the road and drove in silence. After a few minutes, John couldn't hold it in any longer. He let out a loud sigh and said, "I can't believe we lost. We played like crap out there, and I didn't do anything to help the team. It's all my fault." You looked over at John with sympathy and tried to reassure him. "Hey, it's not all your fault. The whole team played badly today. And you can't blame yourself for a team loss," you said gently. John shook his head in frustration, his jaw clenched tight. "No, this is on me. I had so many chances to score and I choked every single time. I let the team down," he muttered bitterly, staring out the window. He turned to face you, his brown eyes filled with self-loathing. "I'm sorry you had to watch that pathetic display out there. I know how much you love watching me play. But today…I was awful." John slumped back in his seat, defeated. "Maybe I should just quit the team. Save everyone the trouble of having to put up with my incompetence," he sighed heavily, clearly beating himself up over the loss.

You looked at John with concern. "Hey, don't say that. You're an amazing player, one bad game doesn't change that. And don't you dare even think about quitting the team. We all have our off days, and I didn't come to watch the game to only see you score. I came to support the team. And everyone else played badly too, not just you. We all lost that game, not just you," you said firmly. John listened to your words, but the self-doubt still lingered in his eyes. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who always has to deliver. I'm the star player, the one expected to lead the team to victory. When I fail, everyone suffers," he argued quietly, his voice tinged with resentment towards himself. He fell silent again, lost in thought as the car continued driving through the quiet streets. After a moment, John spoke up once more, his tone softer this time. "Thanks for being here. For believing in me even when I don't believe in myself. That means a lot." John reached over and placed a hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. The touch sent a warmth through you, and you smiled reassuringly at him. You smiled faintly at John's touch, feeling his frustration and self-doubt. "You know I'll always be here for you, no matter what. And I'll always believe in you, even when you doubt yourself. You don't have to carry the weight of the team on your shoulders alone. We're a team, we win together and lose together," you said softly, placing your hand over his. "And you're not a failure just because of one bad game. You'll bounce back from this, I know you will."

John nodded slowly, his grip on your hand tightening as if seeking comfort and reassurance. "I hope so," he whispered, his gaze drifting back to the passing scenery outside the window. "It's just…the pressure's been building lately. Every game feels like a make-or-break situation, and the expectations are suffocating sometimes." John took a deep breath, letting it out in a slow exhale. "But hearing you say those things…it helps. Reminds me that I'm not alone in this." He turned to look at you, a small, grateful smile playing on his lips. "Thanks for putting up with my mood swings and constant need for validation. I know I can be a handful sometimes." John's thumb brushed lightly against your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "You're an amazing partner." As you pulled into the driveway, John opened the door and stepped out, stretching his arms above his head. "Well, I guess it's time for some rest and recovery. Maybe a hot shower will wash away the stench of defeat." You laughed softly at John's words. "Yeah, a hot shower does sound nice. And hey, no need to thank me for being here for you. That's what partners do, right? We support each other through thick and thin," you replied, getting out of the car and accompanying John inside the house. "Hey, how about I run the shower for you? I know you must be feeling pretty sore after the game."

John nodded gratefully, already heading towards the stairs. "That would be great, thanks. My muscles ache something fierce," he admitted, rubbing his shoulder absently. As he ascended the steps, John paused and glanced back at you over his shoulder. "And maybe…you could join me later? Just to relax and unwind?" His suggestion hung in the air, a hint of vulnerability and longing in his expression. John quickly added, "If you want to, that is. No pressure." With that, he disappeared upstairs, leaving you to wonder at the depth of emotions hidden beneath his tough exterior. As John disappeared upstairs, your heart quickened at his invitation. Joining him in the shower together, just to relax and unwind… something flickered inside of you. You could already imagine the warm water pouring over your bodies, the steam enveloping you in a hazy embrace. But you pushed the thought away for now, reminding yourself that John was probably just exhausted from the game and seeking comfort. A few moments later, you heard the bathroom door open and close. Steam began to billow out from under the slightly ajar door. Through the fogged glass, you could make out John's silhouette as he stood under the cascading water. He tilted his head back, letting the warm spray massage his tense muscles. Your eyes traced the contours of his body, following the rivulets of water down his chest and abdomen. John's hands moved to his hair, fingers combing through the damp strands. He seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, he turned his head and caught you staring. A knowing smirk spread across his face. "See something you like?" he teased, his voice echoing slightly in the tiled room.

Embarrassed to have been caught gawking at him like that. "Uh, no…I mean…yeah," you stumbled over your words, trying to play it off nonchalantly. "It's just…you look really good, that's all." Your eyes flickered over his muscular physique, the way the water cascaded down his taut skin. Even though you'd seen him naked countless times before, there was something captivating about the way he stood under the spray, his guard down and his vulnerability on full display. John chuckled low in his throat, seeming to enjoy your flustered reaction. "Well, I suppose I do clean up nicely," he quipped, turning to face the water fully. Rivulets ran down his back, tracing the lines of his powerful shoulders and arms. He reached for the shampoo, working it into a lather between his palms. "Care to join me? I promise I won't bite…hard," John added with a playful wink, tossing the bottle aside and rinsing the suds from his hair. You hesitated, your heart hammering in your chest. This was all happening so suddenly, and yet…you wanted nothing more than to join him. But you tried to maintain a sense of composure, not wanting to seem too eager. "I suppose it would be a shame to let all that hot water go to waste," you replied, a coy smile playing on your lips. Without waiting for a response, you began to slowly strip out of your clothes, feeling the cool air on your bare skin.

John watched intently as you disrobed, his eyes darkening with desire. He leaned against the tiled wall, drinking in the sight of your naked form. "Mmm, I couldn't agree more," he purred, holding out a hand to invite you into the steamy enclosure. As you stepped under the spray, John's arms encircled your waist, pulling you flush against his wet, heated skin. The sensation of his hard body pressed against yours ignited a fire within you. John's lips found your neck, trailing kisses along your pulse point. "I've been thinking about this all day," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot on your sensitive skin. You let out a small gasp, the combination of the hot water and John's touch sending shivers down your spine. His kisses on your neck, the feel of his skin against yours - it was all overwhelming. "All day, huh?" you managed to say, trying to sound casual even as your body betrayed you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his wet hair. "And what were you thinking about, exactly?" John's hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips possessively. "About how much I want you," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "About burying myself deep inside you until we both forget everything else exists like the awful game I play tonight." His words sent a jolt of pure lust straight to your core. John spun you around, pressing you against the slick tiles as he captured your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue delved past your lips, tangling with yours in a passionate dance. One hand roamed your curves while the other reached between your thighs, teasing your sensitive flesh. "Tell me you want this," John commanded his voice husky with need. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

John's hands continued to roam over your body, igniting flames wherever they touched. You couldn't help but arch into his touch, your body craving more of him. But beneath it all, you still had some control. You wanted to make him work for it. "Mmm, is that so?" you murmured, biting softly on his lower lip. "Why don't you show me just how much you need me then, hmm?" You ran your fingers down his chest, tracing the ridges of muscle. "I think you can do better than that." A low, animalistic groan rumbled in John's chest as you teased him, your delicate touches driving him wild with desire. "Fuck, you're killing me," he gritted out, his grip on your hips tightening almost painfully. With a swift movement, he hoisted you up, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. The water sluiced over your joined forms as John pinned you against the tile, his erection straining against your inner thigh. "Is this what you want?" he demanded, grinding his hardness against you. "To see me lose control, to watch me unravel because of you?" John's lips crashed against yours again, the kiss brutal and desperate. His teeth scraped your bottom lip before he sucked it into his mouth, nibbling gently. "I need to be inside you. Now." You moaned into the rough kiss. You could feel every inch of his hard length rubbing against your sensitive skin, stoking the flames of desire higher. "Yes," you gasped when you broke for air, your voice shaky with need. "Please, I need you too." Reaching between your bodies, you wrapped your hand around John's thick cock, guiding it to your entrance. You were already so wet, your arousal coating his shaft as you positioned him at your core. With a swift, deliberate motion, he sank deep inside of you, taking him deep inside your welcoming heat. "Fuck, you feel incredible," John groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he started to move within you. Each powerful thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, building an intense pressure that threatened to overwhelm your senses.

John's hips snapped forward, driving his throbbing cock deeper into your clutching heat. He set a relentless pace, each stroke designed to push you both closer to the edge. "So tight, so perfect," he grunted, his breath hot against your ear. One hand slid down to cup your ass, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh as he pounded into you. The other reached up to tangle in your hair, yanking your head back to expose the vulnerable column of your throat. John latched onto it, biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks, claiming you as his own. The mix of pain and pleasure only heightened the mutual desperation. John felt himself teetering on the brink, his climax barreling towards him like a freight train. "Come on, baby, give it to me," Your body responded instinctively to John's dominant touch, arching into his grasp as he marked you with his teeth. The sting of pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure, pushed you further along the razor's edge. "Oh god, yes!" you cried out, your voice echoing off the tiled walls. Your inner muscles clenched rhythmically around John's pistoning cock, milking him for all he was worth. The sensation of being so thoroughly claimed, so utterly possessed, sent you spiraling toward your peak. "I'm…I'm gonna cum!" you warned, your words dissolving into a high-pitched keen as the first wave of ecstasy washed over you. Your pussy spasmed wildly, rippling and fluttering around John's still-driving shaft as you came undone in his arms. John felt your pussy clamp down around him like a vice as you came apart in his arms. The rhythmic squeezing of your silken walls was his undoing. With a guttural roar, he slammed into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as his orgasm ripped through him. Thick ropes of cum painted your insides, marking you from the inside out. John continued to grind against you, drawing out both your climaxes until you were boneless and spent. Finally, he collapsed against you, his forehead resting against yours as you both struggled to catch your breath. "That was…" John trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the intensity of what had just transpired between you. All he knew was that he never wanted to let you go.

You clung to John as aftershocks shuddered through you, leaving you weak and trembling in his strong embrace. Your heart raced wildly, pounding against your ribs as if trying to break free. As the fog of passion began to clear, you gazed up at him, marveling at the raw emotion etched into his handsome features. "Incredible," you finished softly, a small smile playing at the corners of your kiss-swollen lips. "Better than anything I've ever experienced." You pressed a tender kiss to the underside of his jaw, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you savored the closeness. In that moment, you knew without a doubt that what you shared went far beyond mere physical attraction. It was something deeper, more profound - a connection that transcended words.

[butchpeace]

A lot of people don't detransition because they already got used to it and don't want to change back. If you asked them they would tell you that they still regret transitioning and wished they would never have done it but sadly they think it's to late for them because they would never fit in again or they just don't care anymore.

Absolutely. For me, it felt like I came to a fork in the road where I needed to decide if I was going to continue my life as I was, or try to detransition.

I think both options are equally valid, and no matter what it looks like, I think that any time someone can come to a place of acceptance, where they can feel healthy and happy after this regret, is amazing.

And anyway, detransition doesn’t have to be all or nothing. It can be something you only do in some spheres of your life and not in others. The idea of “passing women” is relevant here.

Maybe not everyone who has regret can or wants to detransition socially, but it’s still possible to reconnect with who you are, and for the people close to you to gain a better understanding of the complexity of your identity.

I also think it’s important for us to recognize in the detrans community, and in feminist spaces in general, that detransition isn’t always a physical process. It doesn’t always change your appearance. A woman is a woman, no matter what she looks like.

I hope that healing is possible for everyone and that our community can support regretters who stay transitioned as much as we support everyone else ❤️

[butterfwiesndinorawrs]

💖🌟🌈💖🌟🌈💖🌟🌈💖🌟🌈💖🌟🌈💖🌟

*Grabs my big girl megaphone* This is important!! Trust me, take it from an "older" Tot... that person that bullied you in school won't matter years down the road, you'll likely forget most of what was said and done... That person who gives you a weird look because of what you wear or how you acted in public won't remember you and you won't remember them.. That person that made fun of you at one of your first jobs you were still learning won't mean anything to you later in life. That so called friend that can't accept and respect you as you are, the people who are meant to be in your life will accept, respect and love you just as you are, all the other's don't matter. Finally that person that said something nasty won't matter when you're living your life the way you want, doing what makes you happy. Most of these people are upset because they either A. Don't have the courage to be their own authentic selves and so seeing those who can be their authentic selves triggers them. B. They haven't found a healthy coping mechanism for their own trauma. "Hurt people hurt people." Those that are hurting without the proper support they need cause harm to others. C. They are just generally unhappy in their life and in the world. Misery loves company after all, tale as old as time. Don't let others people's pain become your own.. Live your life the way that makes you happy, helps you feel safe and gives you comfort. This life is too short and too precious to allow anyone to dictate your own happiness! You are not hurting anyone by just existing and following your happiness. Remember you are loved, you are valid, you are important, you are a treasure, you are needed in this world to make it a softer place for yourself and everyone else around you, you are on the right path, you're right where you're meant to be, you are supported and you are not alone.

*throws away the megaphone* n members not to let big mean meanie pants upsetties you, dats what dey wants. Dey wants everyone to be as unhappy as dey are. Cuddle up wiff da stuffies, watch da cartoons, color to yous hearts content, play wiff all da toys!!! Yous not da probem n yous no hurting anyone... go be yous lovely little self.

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[idylls-of-the-divine-romance]

*beating my head on the table anytime i see any statement whatsoever about who did or did not kill jesus*

Tl;dr: Everyone killed Jesus. Including you. And that's really freaking important.

The answer is everyone, btw. Literally everyone on earth. Peter straight up says in the Book of Acts who is responsible: Herod. Pilate. Every single non-jewish nation on earth. The people of Israel.

Clearly Peter is not actually meaning to say that every individual in the world is responsible for Jesus' literal physical death (for which the answer is Judas of Kerioth and The Jerusalem Leaders: Herod, Pilate, Caiaphas, etc. Really just the religious and political authorities at the time). But it's obvious that by the time of the writings of the apostles, they've moved beyond thinking about Jesus' death in historical terms and are thinking about it theologically.

What does it mean for God to die? What does it mean for God to be willing to die? What does it mean for God to be able to die?

The answer they came to around the responsibility of Jesus' death was both historically and cosmically rooted. Historically, it was the Jewish and Roman authorities in Jerusalem. The romans leaders literally put him to death; the jewish leaders handed him over to be killed.

But the cosmic significance if of much more importance. Who cares who literally killed him? He's dead. What matters is why. Why did he die? And when you ask that question you get a new answer: Everyone killed him. Peter says it quite clearly, "in [Jerusalem] there were gathered together against your holy servant/son Jesus, whom you anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the nations and the peoples of Israel" Does that sound like the Jews to you? Does that sound like the Romans to you? No. That is everyone in every nation on planet earth.

What does that mean? Well look later in the same book. Saul (a Pharisee from the tribe of Benjamin) is perusing and imprisoning and killing (probably hellenistic-jewish) followers of the Way because in his mind they are blaspheming and idolatrous followers of a new cult and will bring down the wrath of God upon their people (which. valid.). But while he's on the Road to Damascus he has an apocalypse, an unveiling, where he sees a vision of the risen Jesus who tells Saul that he isn't persecuting idolatrous cultists, but is persecuting Jesus himself who also claims to be the Anointed One that Saul (and everyone else at the time) had been waiting for.

But the important thing is the first thing: Saul isn't persecuting his followers, he's persecuting Jesus himself. This same concept is played with in Matthew 25: when you see the poor, the incarcerated, the immigrant, the sick, the widow, etc etc etc. When you see the oppressed, it is not merely human beings you see, but it is God himself who identifies with their suffering. This is what Christians call the kenosis: that God emptied himself to become human, born of a poor girl in a washed up town, died the death of a cursed blaspheming slave. God is the God of the suffering. So to persecuted God is to persecute anyone. To kill God is to kill anyone. But especially vulnerable and marginalized groups.

Cain killed (the image of) God when he killed his brother.

Pharaoh killed (the image of) God when he killed the infants.

The kings of Israel and Judah oppressed (the image of) God when they oppressed the widow, orphan, immigrant, and poor.

They killed (the image of) God when they killed the prophets.

That soldier killed (the image of) God when he killed a poor man.

That rich woman abused (the image of) God when she abused her maidservant.

The conquistadors killed (the image of) God when they conquered the "West Indies".

The crusaders killed (the image of) God when they murdered Muslims and Jews.

The Spanish colonists enslaved and killed (the image of) God when they enslaved and killed off the natives.

I could go on. But I don't need to. You can already think of many. From the past. And from today. Need I mention antisemitism, islamophobia, homophobia, transphobia, racism, misogyny, rape, genocide, hinduphobia, etc etc etc.

Now, I've never persecuted or killed anyone. The total abolition of the use of death as a weapon and all that. But you know what, I have treated people as less than human. And so have you. If you claim you haven't, I don't believe you. We all have treated people as less than human before which is the foundation for how murder comes about. Which is why Jesus says bursting out in rage is just as bad as murdering someone. because when you do, you treat them like they're an object, and not an image (of God). Thus, we all have the blood of God on our hands. The question is about whether we are going to wash our hands clean of it, like Pilate. Or whether we're going to be washed in it, like the apostles.

[five-rivers]

Cult Division 3

Part of the Exhumed series

.

“What do you mean, you can’t change back?” asked Daily. 

“What do you think I mean?” asked Danny, stepping off the cloth, then stooping to ball it up into something he could easily carry.  “I can’t go back to being Phantom.”

“Then they really revived you?”

“No,” said Danny, “I don’t think so.”  He could still feel his ghost half, he just couldn’t grab it.  It had been like this for less than a minute and he already hated it. 

Daily shifted, looking around the park.  “Okay, um.  Can you do any of your… stuff?  The ghost stuff?”

Danny bit his lip and cycled through his basic powers.  Nothing.  He shook his head. 

“Oh, that’s bad.  You’re just like a normal kid now.”

He wasn’t wrong, exactly, but Danny wished he’d phrased it at least slightly differently. 

“A normal kid… In the park in the middle of the night…”  Daily shook his head.  “We shouldn’t be here when McGee comes back.  He still hasn’t chilled out.”

Meaning, he was still looking for things to report back to the agency that sent him in the first place.  Danny groaned.  “Don’t worry, I’m going home.”  Maybe his parents would have some insight into what had happened.  Or, at least, who they had sold Ghost Catcher thread to.

“Hey, no, wait, you can’t walk home from here like that.  You’re not even wearing a coat.”

“I don’t really have another option—”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Isn’t that Collin’s car?”

“He won’t miss it.  And he left the keys.”

Danny stared for a moment at the blatant lies, then shrugged.  He could still hear distant sounds of people running through trees and bushes.  It would take a while for Collins, Paterson, and McGee to catch everyone, assuming they caught anyone at all, and Fentonworks wasn’t that far away. 

He walked back to the car and opened the door, the front one, this time, and slid in.  Daily got in the other side, then stared blankly at the steering wheel. 

“You do know how to drive, right?”  It was a valid question.  Danny had never seen Daily drive. 

“Of course I do!  I just haven’t driven this car before.”  He started the car up, and very slowly pulled out onto the road. 

The slowness of the drive gave Danny time to further assess himself.  His ghost half was definitely, absolutely, still there (thank goodness).  It just felt… weighed down.  Pinned.  Tied up. 

He started picking at the glowing thread.  The patterns were repeated on his skin, but maybe it was just a matter of taking off his clothes…

The car slowed to a halt.  “Do you need me to walk you in?” asked Daily, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel.  “I can…  Explain to your parents?  Or maybe your sister?”  Jazz was mentioned in a significantly more helpful tone than his parents.

“No, I’ve got it,” said Danny, opening the door.  “Thanks for the ride.  You’ll let me know what you find out about that cult and…”  He gestured at himself.  “Whatever they did.”

“Okay,” said Daily.  “Yeah.  Of course!  That’s my job, right?”

Keeping an eye on and researching cults was part of Daily’s job, but telling Danny wasn’t.  Still.  “Yeah,” said Danny, smiling weakly. 

.

Collins frowned at the empty parking lot.  “Paterson!” he called. 

“Yeah?” came Paterson’s voice, echoing across the park. 

“Did I, or did I not park here?”

“What?”

Collins groaned.  “Give it up, they got away!”  He sighed.  “Possibly with my car.”

.

Danny did not have the best track record when it came to telling his parents about things, but he was trying to get better.  Still, he felt like the present subject had to broached delicately.  That was why he was sitting on the floor outside their bedroom, listening to his dad snore.

He wanted to tell them.  He wanted to fix this.  But he didn’t want to admit how much trouble he’d gotten into and how a bunch of cultists had gotten the better of him. 

But he was trying, and his new, ugh, magic glowing tattoos weren’t something he could hide.  He picked up the broom he had brought with him and opened the door.  No point in knocking, they both wore earplugs to bed.  He picked up the broom and poked his dad with the end of it. 

“WHAT!  GHOST!”

“Hmhph?” said Maddie.  “Ghost?”  She had a small ectoblaster in her hand already. 

“No, just me.”  Danny put down the broom and raised his hands. 

“Oh, Danno,” said Jack, rubbing at one eye as Maddie pried the earplugs from his ears. “What are you doing here?” 

Danny bit his lower lip.  “I… might have screwed up.”

.

“Danny, sweetheart, that doesn’t sound like it was your fault.  It would have happened even if you stayed home.  You were kidnapped.”

“I guess.”  It still felt like he could have done something.  Maybe if he’d paid a little more attention to the cults, kept a closer eye on what they were doing.

“But we do need to see what we can do with all this.”  She picked up his hand and rubbed her thumb over one of the green marks on its back.  “…and about that summoning thing.  I don’t like that these people can just snatch you away whenever they like.”

“And we’ll never let them do anything like that again!  Or else!” said Jack, brandishing the spatula he was using to flip the pancakes.

“It sounded like it was related to the date somehow.”

“That doesn’t comfort us much, sweetie.  Especially considering what they did to you.  Do you think they really involved your, ah…”

“I mean…”  Danny trailed off and took his hand back.  He rubbed his arms against the sudden chill.  “I don’t know.  It’s not like I’ve never gotten my powers knocked out of whack.  It could be like that.  Might even have a time limit.”

“But?” prompted Maddie. 

“But… it feels different,” admitted Danny.  “It’s weight, not static.”

“Do you think we’ll need to, uh, what’s the word again, for digging up a, um…”

“Exhumation,” said Maddie, before Jack could come up with a proper euphemism for corpse. 

Danny wasn’t really comfortable about his… mortal remains.  But the pauses and too-obvious references were, in many ways, worse. 

Literally everything else about his life was better than when he’d still been keeping things a secret, though!  He did not want to go back!

Except maybe to earlier tonight, when getting the dead half of his body shoved back into him wasn’t something he had to worry about happening.

“We’ll have to ask the police about that,” said Maddie.  “Maybe we can start with a few simple tests after breakfast, though.  See if how much your readings changed from your baseline.”

“Hey!  Could be that all you need is a trip through the old Ghost Catcher!”

“Ghost Catcher string partially caused this,” said Danny.  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to, uh, cross wires.”

“There shouldn’t be any problem with that,” said Jack.  “The strings aren’t reactive with each other, they wouldn’t work if they were.  Speaking of which, how did they even get it into this cloth?”  Jack used the spatula to point at the cloth, which was spread out over Jazz’s chair.  “Usually, you have to have special tools to work with any of it, or else it just falls through.”

“I don’t know, they didn’t really say anything beyond path of enlightenment nonsense.  You know, the whole ‘we worship you but won’t listen to a thing you say’ thing.”

Maddie sighed.  “We’ll just hope they get caught so they can tell us what they were actually trying to do.  In the meantime, we’ll do our own research…  And maybe you can use this as a break.  A little vacation.”

“In the same way sick days are a vacation, I guess.”

“Do you feel sick?”

“No,” said Danny.  “Not yet, anyway.”

“Maybe you should stay home from school until we can find a way to undo this.”

“Aw, no, Mom.  I don’t want to miss any school.  I’ve been actually doing okay this year.”

“But we don’t know how any of this is going to affect you.  What if it is temporary, and your… body is involved.  What happens if it times out in class?”

Danny swallowed, suddenly nauseous.  “I hadn’t thought about that.”

.

The chief of police sat in his office, blinds drawn, two thirds of the trouble trio and Cameron Daily. 

“You’re telling me that the person who is primarily responsible for protecting our city from hostile ghosts has been nerfed by cultists.  Cultists that you let get away.”

“Hey!” said Daily.  “I didn’t know you knew what nerfed meant, chief!”

The chief groaned.  “Find these cultists.  Figure out what they did.  Get the Fentons whatever they need to undo this.  Fast.”

.

“Alright,” said Maddie, as if she hadn’t been having a whispered argument with Jack only minutes before, “I’m going to city hall to file the exhumation paperwork.  You two stay here unless something happens to Danny.  No leaving for ghost attacks.”

“Aw,” said both Jack and Danny. 

“But, Mom—”  

“No buts.  This is a sick day for Danny, and someone needs to look after him the whole time.”  She pointed sharply at Jack.  “Don’t run off.”

Danny hunched his shoulder.  He wasn’t that bad to look after, was he?  Not that he wanted to be looked after.

“But if I’m the one to talk to Vladdie, it’ll be faster!”

“It’ll be hours, sweetie, if you two get started.  If he doesn’t leave you in the waiting room,” she added under her breath.  “You know how you two get.”

“Not when Danny’s at stake!”

Maddie gave him a look. 

“Fine,” said Jack. 

“Maybe you two can do something together while I’m gone.  Fudge, maybe?  Or cookies?”

“Oooooh!” said Jack.  “Yeah!  Cookies!  How does that sound, Danno?”

“I have homework,” groused Danny. 

“I can help with that, too!”

“Goodbye, guys.  Oh!  Remember, if I’m not back by lunch, run the tests again, okay?”

“Will do, Maddie!”

“Okay, Mom,” said Danny, giving a little wave. 

“Good, good.  So, keys, cell phone, wallet, boo-staff—” The door clicked closed, cutting off the rest of her list. 

“Okay,” said Jack, thumping Danny’s back and giving him a little shove at the stairs.  “I’ll get the kitchen set up!  You get your homework!”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “Okay.” 

“Fundge here we come!” said Jack, pumping his fist.  “Get it?  Fundge?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, giving him a weak smile.  “I get it.”  He started for the stairs, irrationally annoyed he couldn’t fly up them.  He wouldn’t have flown up them anyway.  He hardly ever did that. 

He walked into his room and stopped.  Actually, where was his homework?  Where was his backpack? 

Ugh.  Typical. 

He started looking behind and underneath things, the process all the more tedious because he couldn’t just reach through them.  Hopefully he hadn’t done something stupid like phase it into the wall last night.  ‘Oops, I made my homework inaccessible to the living’ was not going to fly in any of his classes…  Unless he blamed it on his parents…  Food for thought.  He paused to email a request for class notes to Sam and Tucker.  Halfway through writing the message, he heard the screaming doorbell go off.

“I’ve got it!” called Jack. 

“Okay!”  Danny hit send on the email and kept looking for his backpack.  He dropped to the floor to look under his bed, scowled as it wasn’t there, either, then got up and tripped over his sheets, pulling them off his bed. 

Why had he put his backpack in his bed?  So stupid. 

He shouldered it and prepared to go downstairs, but… 

Something was wrong.  He thought back, trying to decide what it was.  Living… or unliving?  Half-living the way he did, he was pretty good at pinpointing the sources of vague senses of wrongness.

It was quiet. 

The front door hadn’t shut. 

Holy crap, had someone just kidnapped his dad?

Emergency blaster, emergency blaster…  He held his backpack by one strap to use as a bludgeon – the books in it were certainly heavy enough – and held the blaster steady in his other hand.  He would activate the Defense System, but his parents had ripped a lot of it out after the reveal and were still in the process of reinstallation. 

He tapped his door open with his foot and ventured out into the house.  It really was too quiet.  Almost suffocatingly so.  He held his breath.  Probably not the best choice, strategically, but something about everything…

He hit the bottom step of the stairs, turned into the kitchen, and ran into two people wearing oxygen masks. 

His reflexes were better, so he started firing immediately.  Ectoblasters weren’t meant to hurt humans, not really, but the impact to the chest was enough to knock both of the men back.  The recoil was equally sufficient to knock the air out of Danny’s lungs.  He wasn’t really trying to hold his breath, after all. 

He ran past them, inhaling, and… stumbled, suddenly dizzy. 

Oxygen masks. 

Stupid mistake!  Sometimes his instincts were good!

Something touched his upper arm, and he lashed out, swinging his backpack backwards.  There was an oof sort of sound, and one of the men toppled over.  The other one pulled the backpack out of Danny’s hand, which was a mistake, because he was still holding the gun.  Ectogun.  Whatever.  He shot him. 

Then…  Outside.  Whatever was in here, they couldn’t have enough to get the whole neighborhood, and if they could get away with just oxygen masks, it probably wasn’t super toxic.  Also, if it had spread very far, someone in the neighborhood would have noticed.  Probably.  Maybe. 

They’d notice enough to complain, at least. 

Halfway through the living room, he had to breathe again.  Human physical limits sucked. 

Black spots danced over his vision and left him on his knees.  He got back up and went for the door, stumbling drunkenly.  He hit it with his face.  Why were doors so hard to operate?

The black spots slowly grew until they consumed his vision. 

“Did… did he just run into a wall?”

“Just because he’s perfect doesn’t mean he smart.  And get rid of… we… need… backpack…”

.

Collins and Paterson stared at the most significant piece of physical evidence regarding Daniel Fenton’s kidnapping. 

“If you’re not going to say it, I am,” said Paterson. 

“Don’t say it,” said Collins. 

“I really want to, though.”

“Don’t.”

“I think ‘my homework ate a kidnapper’ is a great excuse for not doing it.  That kid is brutal.  How much blood do you think is on that thing?”

“Paterson, he got kidnapped.”

“Yeah,” said Paterson, a grin plastered on her face, “and that’s terrifying, thanks.  Let me have this.”

McGee escorted Daily through the front door of Fentonworks, his hand firmly on the man’s shoulder.  “Got him,” he said. 

“Oh, man,” said Daily.  “So, this is what a real crime scene looks like.”  He saw the backpack and squeaked.  “Is that blood?”

“Yeah.  Now do your thing and find out why these two think what happened last night in the park is connected to this.  Fenton wasn’t actually involved in that, was he?”

“His family takes care of the gravesite,” said Collins.  “And this is the biggest crime in Amity Park for years.  We have to look at everything.”

“Uh huh,” said McGee.  “Well, I’m going to go back out and question the father.”

Collins groaned internally.  Dealing with McGee was usually… if not exactly fun, then at least amusing, but dealing with his everything on a case like this…  With Danny’s… possibly with Danny’s life on the line, who knew how that worked with the whole cult thing…

“Do you think we can offload McGee on someone else?” he asked Paterson. 

“And give him something to actually report to his bosses?  Not a chance.”

[baejax-the-great]

Hi, I saw on one of your ao3 comments that you think Homers' Achilles is on the spectrum. This is a really interesting idea to me, but I don't know that much about autism - could you elaborate on why you think that? (Also, I think all of your fics are amazing ☺️)

Autism as a word and diagnosis did not exist in ancient Greece, and I have no idea if there would have been a similar concept about it (doubt it) or if more likely people with certain autistic traits would have been considered to have a certain type of personality. So for me to say that Homer deliberately wrote Achilles as "autistic" is a little tongue in cheek.

That said, reading the Iliad I did have a moment of "Ohhhh, dude's autistic I get it." Some people might look at my reasoning and say, "well, that could be a whole other thing with these other reasons," and that's fair. This is just how it came across to me and why.

Sense of justice/fairness. This is one of the more obscure autistic traits (that often gets misunderstood and shit upon by people), but it's how the book begins, so I'll start here. Autistic people are more likely to learn and follow rules to a T. This gets rolled into the trait of "rigid thinking" and has been related to autistic people's preference for solid routines. To think about where you lie with this trait, one example is the "walk" signal at a crosswalk. Some people jaywalk when the road is very clear and no one is around. Some people jaywalk when the road ISN'T clear because they don't give a fuck. And some people will wait for that light to turn white no matter what because that's what you are supposed to do and there are rules (although culture/country of origin will also affect how much relevance traffic lights have in your life).

This is a rule, but it has little do to with justice. So to figure out where you stand in terms of justice sensitivity, another metric is how angry you feel when you watch someone cut in line and not get punished for it. Some of us will sigh and move on with our life because dicks are everywhere, whatever, and some people will have a harder time letting go because this person broke a rule in an obviously unfair way, and they should be punished for that.

This trait does not mean that autistic people have a better sense of what justice is or what rules/laws are "just." That is all very subjective. But this trait does result in a stronger negative reaction to seeing those rules/laws violated.

Such as rage.

Achilles fits the bill here in both in terms of rigid thinking and his sense of justice. His reputation in the Greek tradition is as someone who was very educated. In fact, he is the most educated with regards to law and religion than the rest of the Achaeans thanks to his time with Chiron. More than that, he actually cared about what he was taught and was considered kind of a stick-in-the-mud in terms of believing that the armies should follow the rules and customs of their people at all times and that violating their own laws was bad, even if you really, really wanted to bang a hot chick.

When Agamemnon decides to take Briseis, he is breaking a Rule. The common interpretation of what happens here is that he has violated Achilles' pride and honor in doing so, and Achilles loses his shit. That's valid. To me it read a little differently. I mean, for one, Achilles is 100% correct in the first book. Agamemnon pissed off the gods in a way he shouldn't have bringing plague on everyone, and how does he solve this? By agreeing to do the thing Achilles told him to do to solve it and then immediately violating their customs to steal from Achilles, bringing down a plague of "Achilles is not going to help you anymore."

Achilles cries to his mom that he wants the gods to fuck over the Greeks to prove Achilles right, which is deeply immature, but also really makes sense to me. Like, Agamemnon did this shitty, illegal, rules-breaking thing, and he needs to feel the consequences of that action. Achilles isn't a god who can bring down a plague, but his mommy is, so get fucked, Agamemnon. It's Zeus time.

During the time Achilles is out of the fighting, he is routinely called hard-hearted, stubborn, and other words to indicate he will not be swayed, which again speaks to his rigidity of understanding how things should be done.

The Way Achilles Talks About His Emotions. Achilles very clearly states what he is feeling throughout the book, and he often restates it. We get it, bro. You're mad. And then sad. Really, really sad. While this is almost definitely for the audience to understand his feelings and just how deep they run, Homer also could have just told us outright what he was thinking without having Achilles say it out loud repeatedly. It also felt to me that Achilles talks about his feelings far more often and bluntly than other characters do, but again this could be because the story revolves around his 'rage.'

Regardless, even if it was purely for audience benefit, this is a behavior I have noticed with my adult ND friends, which is basically after a childhood feeling confused by what other people around them are doing or why they are reacting to things in a certain way, they have a strategy of very bluntly expressing themselves and where they are at in this situation. It can be far easier than trying to follow the subtleties of NT culture and just get whatever issue it is out in the open. Saying to someone "I am angry at you" can come off as overly aggressive and blunt depending on context, but it cuts to the heart of the matter. We can compare this with Odysseus, who does not express any very deep emotions at all in the Iliad (other than the fact that Thersites should shut the fuck up, anyway), presumably because that's nobody else's business.

The Embassy. Achilles' point to Odysseus that this entire war was started over a man stealing a woman is so correct and so ignored. He looks at this situation and says: Paris stole Helen, and Agamemnon rallied all the Achaeans to come make war with Troy. Agamemnon steals Briseis, and I'm meant to... keep fighting for him? In what way does this make sense?

Everyone around him sees it from a completely different perspective, basically that Achilles got angry over a girl. To Achilles this is not what it is about at all. And I'm with him on this. If stealing a woman is a sin egregious enough for thousands of Greeks to spend 10 years attempting to sack a city, then it is the same amount of egregious for Agamemnon to take Briseis and he's lucky Achilles didn't kill him immediately and sack Argos. He's getting off easy, which Achilles tells him.

Reading Odysseus lay out his argument followed by Achilles cutting him down with that bit of logic was like, yeah, I'm with Achilles, I don't even think he's being stubborn I just think he's right.

In the embassy chapter, Achilles also has his famous line about despising men who say one thing but mean another. Being very truthful and having difficulty noticing lies is another common trait of autism, and it would make sense for Achilles to find the dishonesty of his colleagues deeply annoying.

Old British scholars called him a sociopath. This might seem like a weird one, but I'm adding it into evidence. When I read the Iliad, I see Achilles as a very emotional person. Given that half the book is about his grief over Patroclus, I find calling him incapable of caring about others incredibly bizarre. But in addition to determining that these scholars who wrote these batshit essays have never once in their life had a friend, much less a friend that they loved, this kind of fits with how a certain type of old-fashioned scholar understands autism. I've actually been at neuroscience talks with crusty old assholes who talk about how autistics and orphans are incapable of empathy, and then use evidence that really just says to me they express empathy in a different way. (Yes, orphans. For real. A real talk I went to in like 2015. Did you know that orphans don't have feelings and don't care about the feelings of others. /s) Add to the old British tradition of their feral private school kids (which I believe they call public school? idk those assholes in blazers, you know the ones) literally caning each other for being smaller, weaker, or just different, and this to me is solid evidence that Achilles is neurodivergent and unwittingly awoke the bloodlust in these old (dead) bastards.

Speech Patterns. Not being able to read Ancient Greek, I can't actually say much about this one, but multiple scholars have commented that the way Achilles speaks in the Iliad is different to all the others. He has a unique way of speaking. Again, this is not necessarily an autistic trait, but it is common for autistic people to have different speech patterns than NT people, so it's more just a "hmmm, maybe" than actual evidence.

I feel like I'm forgetting other little things, but I'd have to fully reread the Iliad with this in mind to jog my memory, and maybe one day I will. TLDR; Achilles has a very rigid way of thinking and an uncommon way of expressing his emotions.

And as always, autism is a spectrum. Anything I've written about here isn't necessarily true of any autistic person out in the world.

[thisisyourprincipalspeaking]

So here’s my earlier thoughts and while rereading I see why I get mad, read the below and despite making some points, overall, I sound like a nutcase. This is what he’s done to this fandom. It’s to the point you seem batshit crazy for staying obvious facts but then come off an unhinged based on trying to make sense of things. I really tried to give him grace, but fuck this shit.

“Ugh no matter how many ways I look at this, Chris is a damn good actor if this isn’t a pr stunt. Meaning he had me thinking he was much smarter than this. 😞 I just don’t know. I know I should not care or whatever but I really thought he had a good head on his shoulders despite being in the Hollywood world and it’s just disappointing to think this is who he really is. Like he was eye fucking reporters while supposedly “dating” the girl he planned on marrying. He literally eye fucked women while standing next to her in line and ya know what, nah this isn’t real and Chris better have a damn great explanation of this mess once it’s exposed. 😂 I’m tired of racking my brain. No more being gaslit. All in all I will say I hope he initially thought things would be different or else he wouldn’t have done this and since things obviously went wrong, I hope he learns from this and grows and matures into the man everyone expected him to presently be.

I’m going to stay positive and hope this was the part of his journey, the big mistake that leads him to the road of better and never making the same mistakes twice. 😌 what can I say, I still care and it’s too much obvious bs that’s happened to make me hate him because believe me when I say, if he was down with this despite the wedding bs, things would be much more believable. Even the chicken pecks he gives her screams “I have to make this believable but I don’t want to kiss her”. It’s like they seemed cool and on the same side of things until this went public but then the Valentine’s Day montage which any pics of them was probably taken pre November 2022 and then seeing how messy this became…….but nope if he didn’t like it nor her, why marry her and permanently associate himself to her, ugh see it goes either way, then I get pissed and just go fuck it, his ass married her, screw him. I just don’t t get it. If it’s legit why act like you are in pain to publicly be seen with her, yet why claim to be private yet continue to push this mess. I could go back and forth but I guess until this ends, he’ll be an idiot and then when this ends he’ll still be an idiot but then I can at least be like fine it’s over, now let’s see how he moves going forward and when he ends up in another relationship people will see the difference. Ugh I hate him for making people feel crazy. Either own your shitty decisions or end this shit. 🙄

If I’m wrong and sound crazy, so be it, but I definitely believe this is PR!”

See……yeah……., I’m over this shitshow. He married her, he can keep her.

*cries over the wasted time loss being concerned for this man*

nonnie, i think your thoughts and comments reflect a lot of the ce fandom. and you are valid in your thoughts and feelings.

i would advise against getting too emotionally involved with celebs, instead find a passion in your life... art, music, teaching, volunteering, etc. because celebs are humans. humans we don't know. there's a very good chance they will disappoint us.

no matter if someone thinks this is pr, or real with pr or real and he's not who they thought he was, each person is fully capable of deciding for themselves if they want to continue to support him and that's great! you like his acting? great! you like his characters? good for you! you like his interviews and like his personality? cool! each fan should be allowed to decide for themselves who they support.

[95jezzica]

if I'm not wrong you mentioned that you work in a kindergarten right?

do you have any techniques for calming the children down and make them listen to you?

Your question is pretty vague and there's so many variables to this (are they angry? sad? scared? tired? Something else? What kind of "you need to listen" is it for?), but I will try my best to give you some general tips. If you have a more specific situation in mind, feel free to send another ask with more details. 💝

Anyway, rule number 1: Don't tell them: "Calm down". - Child or not, in all the history of humanity I don't think I've ever seen that one actually work and calmed someone down.

Half-jokes aside, it kind of depends on how old the children are.

[The rest is below 'Read More' because since when have I ever been able to write a short post?]

In my case I work with children who are 1-6 years old, so my tips will be mainly directed towards children around that age, but they would many times work with older children as well.

My biggest tip is to first try and understand why they are upset. Are they sad? Angry? Scared? Tired? Hungry? An ugly combination? It will help a long way to calm them down if you know the reason why they're upset in the first place. - (Example: Some of my children in class are scared of the fire alarm after the evacuation practice we had with it, because it's really loud and sudden. To address it I first validated their fear: "The fire alarm can sound a bit scary and make your ears hurt" - and then explained why it needs to be - "but it needs to be loud so it can warn everyone. The fire alarm wants to protect you and make sure you escape the fire and smoke before it reaches us. It can't do that if it's too quiet for you to hear").

Understand they are allowed to have feelings. They're allowed to be happy/angry/sad/scared - (etc). What matters is how they REACT to their feelings. (Example: Do they share their happiness by celebrating winning the game by teasing their classmates for losing, or do they simply cheer: "I did it!" . - Do they react to their anger by walking away to cool off for a bit, or by punching the person/thing they're angry at?)

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Understand that many children this age (1-6y old) are SHORT, and compared to them adults are BIG. You will look like a giant, and this goes double if you were born with tall/bulky genes. If you stand in front of a 3y old while basically bent over them, you will feel threatening to them no matter your good intentions. Especially if you don't know the child(ren) very well.

Basically: Sit or kneel down to their level and try to talk with them calmly. You get additional bonus points if you don't face them directly, and instead face them a little more diagonally. ^^/

Feel free to offer them comfort (hug, sitting in knee - etc), but never force it or grab them. Basically, always make sure the child(ren) have an "escape route" if they don't want the comfort/contact you're offering. This can be as simple as lightly tapping their elbow with a: "Want a hug?" and actually respect their answer. (And remember, a child backing away or shaking their head is also an answer! It means NO).

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Good to know: If you grab and hold-on to a child who is already upset and don't want to be touched, they'll get "locked" and basically become unable to be contacted. Idk if this has an actual name in English, so you will have to go on my description here. As long as they're safe to do so, let them walk/run away from you if they want to so they can calm down.

As long as they're safe, feel free to give them space and/or simply powerwalk after them. An upset child will rarely have the stamina to keep on running for long, but it might be what they need in order to calm down a bit and get out their "restless energy" out. With that said, this obviously only applies as long as they're safe.

Of course you will need to grab them if they're about to put themselves or others into danger, like dash into a road with traffic or punch someone else. Oh, they might (loudly!) scream, cry or even curse you out when you grab them - but remember: An angry or crying child is still better than an injured or even dead one. Just make sure it's absolutely necessary because of immediate safety concerns before you grab them. Grabbing them while they're already upset (especially if they're angry) will make they feel trapped and basically trigger their Upset to x10.

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Understand they will also listen to you better the more they like you in combination with the longer you have known them. The more you have laughed and had fun WITH them, the more they will also listen to you when you put your foot down and ask for something in return. (Example: "Time to clean up before lunch!" / "Don't forget to wash your hands.")

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It also helps to know that sometimes they (the children) might simply just not want YOU to try and calm them down. They want their Comfort Person, which might the 'Favorite Teacher of The Day' or the parent they're missing at the moment. 9/10 times it's nothing personal, especially if you know the child(ren) well. Sometimes you're simply not the Chosen Person of the day, and children will have different comfort people. As a kindergarten teacher the 'Favorite Teacher of The Day' is usually also the one who greeted the child in the hall when they arrived in the morning, but it can also be the one who was available to help them with the zipper to their jacket in the hall or the one who found their lost plushie they brought to kindergarten.

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As mentioned earlier telling a child to "Calm down!" rarely if ever helps. Instead it's better to tell/remind them to breathe. - "Deep breaths. There we go, breathe, sweetie." - This goes double if the child is still too upset to tell you what happened/Why they are upset. Tell/remind them to breathe and then show them how to do it. Children mimic a lot - both unconsciously and consciously. By telling them to breathe deeply and then doing the same (breathing deeply), many times the child will unconsciously start to mimic you. Deep breaths will, in turn, also help them calm down and center themselves.

Sometimes they just need time and/or a hug while letting it all out.

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Honestly? A lot that goes into calming down a child comes down to building a relationship with them. If they trust you, you will also have an easier time to calm them down, especially since all children are so different and what might work for one child might not work for another.

At the end of the day many times children cry or scream because they want attention or because something has already gone wrong, and that is an instinct which is still there since they were babies. - "I'm here and don't know what to do about my Big Feelings! Help!" - Perhaps they're crying because they scraped their knee and wants you to come with a hug and a band-aid, or maybe they scream because they're having a fight with their friend and it's their way to signal the fight is starting to go outside their control (and they need your help to navigate it).

As the adult you need to make sure they (continue) to trust showing you their feelings. You want to become a trusted adult, someone they know are willing to help them, but also someone who isn't afraid to set boundaries.

It's the silent children you need to be extra careful with - the ones who hide to not be noticed being angry and/or crying - because they're also usually the ones who were told off or punished for showing their emotions. - [Goes double for boys, who still way too often get to hear idiotic shit like: "Big boys don't cry"].

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I'm not sure this was exactly what you were looking for, but hopefully this at least helped you out a bit since I don't know the specifics about your situation or the feelings involved.

Feel free to send another ask with more details if you want more specific tips. 💝

[temporalbystander]

I know it goes beyond saying at this point (and yes I mean beyond and not without) but Union Cross and Dark Road did something so amazing that I don't think I've ever seen pulled off successfully in other games. Making an OC canon.

Now I bring this up because I just got done rewatching some old reaction videos if a let's player who is my gold standard of commentary, voice over and ad libs. Nicob. Just gotten to the part where the darkness reveals itself and my mind flashed forward a bit.

Before I go on did anyone else forget that the Master of Masters used the leaders, specifically Ventus, as sacrificial lambs? The darkness says it picked Ven because that's what it saw in the Book of Prophecies. We later find out that the MoM was well aware someone was watching over his shoulder and write what would eventually screw the darkness over. Part of which involved controlling Ventus.

Anyway my initial point. In most games where you have an OC trying to fit into established canon you get two responses "OMG I'm with all my favourite characters doing amazing stuff!" Or, the one that I'm saddened people experience, "why am I this random no name faceless person? Let me be the hero!" (Not sure if that says something about people with "main character syndrome" or if it's just the difference between liking the characters or the story/violence.)

The kingdom hearts mobile game though? Sidestepped this perfectly. At first it was so far in the past it didn't really matter how canon we were, besides there were a bunch of other characters that we'd never met before that were just rife with new potential theories. But eventually it ends and, having just come off KH3 where Xehanort puts his heart into everyone? The clips off the upcoming dark Road lead everyone to the same conclusion. "Our created character is Xehanort? Wow we screwed up, should never have chosen reincarnation.

Fast forward a couple of months and we are going through Dark Road, rolling our eyes whenever Xehanort brings up memories or lessons from union cross. Like "we get it, we know what you're thinking about, we're having the same thought. This is just like what happened in Union Cross, we did play the same game after all."

And then what happens? We get to the end of the game having been told how empathic Xehanort is the entire time and... Nomura pulls the damn rug out from under us. "Oh don't be silly, you didn't become Xehanort that would be ridiculous. Instead you're just the one raising him on destiny islands and may be important in missing link."

Just like that everyone accepted it. "Oh thank God we aren't Xehanort." "Another KH game it looks so good for mobile!" And none of these reactions, or at least none that I saw, were the incredibly valid "wait. We raised Xehanort? Wow we REALLY screwed something up."

[palatial-monstrosity]

So you wanna write a novel…

I decided to write this after a post by @corpsepng asking how people plan their stories. It got out of hand so I made a separate post!

This is the system I used for planning, which is the result of mixing various strategies and amount of planning. The concern that "if I plan everything then I do not feel motivated to write" is valid and good news, there's ways to defeat that specific situation while reaping the benefits of planning the story beforehand.

THE BASICS

Step 1: the main character

Disclaimer: for simplicity, I'll assume only one main character but it can be adapted for more.

It's useful to know a few things about your mc before starting. Try to answer these questions:

Who are they? What does a typical day of their life look like? (ex, are we talking about a young wizard, a 50s housewife or a grizzled old warrior?)

What are they good at? (everyone is good at something, no matter how small and unimportant it may seem)

What do they want? Everyone wants something, even if it's just peace and quiet.

What do they lose if they quit? This will tell us a lot about the stakes of the story. Ultimately, is it about survival, belonging, respect, etc? It has to be quite important for your character, because if they change, they do it to save it.

What is their main flaw? This will greatly influence the story, so spend some time on this. In the context of your story a characteristic may be a flaw even if we would see things differently: maybe your character needs to become a cold-blooded killer to protect their family, maybe they need to be less generous, maybe they trust people too much… remember, context is king here.

Step 2: the environment

Who is their main antagonist? It could also be nature, magic or some organization, but there has to be someone opposing your character or there's no story.

How do they behave? What makes them succeed (until they don't, or they do)?

What is the setting? Again, go for the meaning here, not just the aesthetic. If your character needs to become a cold-blooded killer, maybe they're surrounded by monsters, zombies or something else that cannot be reasoned with. Or maybe you can reason with them and your MC has been successful in the past and thinks that's possible, until it doesn't work anymore…

Step 3: The ending

You need to know how the story ends, my friends. Some minor details may change, but the more you know about it, the easier the work is (and the less you'd have to rewrite, which is frustrating)

THE BASIC STRUCTURE

Once you have these elements, I strongly suggest you become familiar with the character arc, as it will be a useful guideline. You can divide your story in 5 or 3 parts, as you prefer, both work (I'm currently using a 5 acts structure).

Here's a very quick outline:

1 ACT The basics. Introduce the character and make us root for them, tell us what's happening and how it will affect them. Show us their flaw and we'll put 2 and 2 together. Introduce the main allies and antagonist, though you can add more important characters later.

2 ACT Your character tries to solve their new problem (bring the ring to Mordor, fight against the evil Empire, etc) and fails. They lack allies or refuse them.

3 ACT A huge failure makes them sit and stop for a moment - they either change for the better, or go down the road to tragedy (I am simplifying things a lot here) If they change, allow them to catch their breath as a reward.

4 ACT Their change was not complete/perfect and now the antagonist has become harder to fight. Your MC is on the road to failure again, one last time. And this time, everything seems lost. Hope seems to disappear.

5 ACT Your MC finds hope again, and finds out how to win against the antagonist. Not everything is lost. They regain old (and new) allies and fight. It is hard and there are losses, but they have changed (where, we might add, the antagonist has not), and they win. Or they don't, if you set them on a path to tragedy.

Once you've sketched a rough outline of these acts, the fun begins!

Take the first act and divide it in chapters, taking notes of what you want to show. I do this scene by scene, but in a very simple way. I might write "MC fights, he is injured because he refuses to kill his enemy" and this will be my way to show that his flaw is that he is too merciful. I do not go into details about the fight just yet.

Once you finished this for the first act, pick your very first scene. This will be the hardest one as it needs to set, well, everything. Where are we, who is the mc, etc. This might need a few rewrites. Once you've chosen what you want to show, I want you to THINK about it. All the fucking time. At the bus stop, in traffic, in the shower, at lunch, whatever. Think about how you'd write it. How would you start it, how will you show us that it's night and we are in a deep dark forest, or that we're in an office building at dawn, whatever. The first scene might take a few days of this, but it will be easier as you go. It is important that you get at the very least one night of sleep between the thinking and the writing as sleep organizes stuff in your mind. Only then, sit down and write that specific scene. You will notice that it will be different from how you originally planned it: maybe you added a side character, maybe you decided it's not night but sunset, etc. Your brain will give you new ideas! And that's great. After you've written that, well, start thinking about the next scene, and so on, and so on… I currently manage the thinking for the next scene + the writing in the same day ( I write first thing in the morning so I get that part out of my brain).

MISCELLANEOUS ADVICE

your character's opinion aren't your opinions. get crazy, it will be fun.

everything you write will be on your mc's point of view, so they will notice things differently than you would. They might notice things that are ordinary for us, or they might have different views on things like religion, family, sexuality, etc.

Recommended reading

It's just three books, read at the very least the first two books as they will be incredibly useful for the character arc and to write compelling characters:

Inside Story: The Power of the Transformational Arc: The Secret to Crafting Extraordinary Screenplays by Dara Marks

The Science of Storytelling: Why Stories Make Us Human, and How to Tell Them Better by Will Storr

Into The Woods: How Stories Work and Why We Tell Them by John Yorke

[radiosummons]

Not to compare apples to oranges or whatever in regards to fictional characters' trauma, but Anakin wouldn't have been able to handle even 1/4 of what Obi-Wan went through.

Look, I’m an Anakin stan myself. He’s not my number one blorbo, but I do adore him and purely for the fact that he’s a goddamn fucking mess. But I can’t help but feel like some of the more extreme Anakin stans keep missing the point of the prequels/Clone Wars as a whole. That being: Darth Vader could not exist without Anakin.

I only bring up Obi-Wan because a lot of the takes I’ve seen from people trying to defend Anakin from any speck of criticism tends to almost always revolve around his trauma/shitty life experience. And, like ... he’s not unique in that aspect. If anything, Obi-Wan shares a very sad, almost mirror-like amount of experiences with him.

For example:

-Obi-Wan was a slave. A lot of characters in the Star Wars universe were slaves.

Anakin was a slave!

((Update to the above: someone asked for clarification on this point, and I made a lengthy response in my reply/reblog. If my reply is too difficult to find down the road, I can add that bit here. Otherwise, the short version of the above isn't that Obi-wan's trauma is more valid than Anakin's. Just that 1) Anakin being a slave is not unique in the world of Star Wars and 2) Obi-wan and Anakin do share similar traumas but react very differently to said traumas)).

-Obi-Wan’s father figure (Qui-Gon) died in his arms.

Anakin’s mother died in his arms!

-Obi-Wan lost the love of his life. Who also died in his arms. Who also, strangely enough, did not die because of anything he did.

Anakin lost the love of his life!

Anakin was criticized by the Jedi Order for his inability to let go of others!

-Obi-Wan was criticized by the Jedi Council and his peers for his attachments to Qui-Gon, Anakin, Ashoka, Quinlan, Satine, etc, etc. The Jedi did not condemn him (or Anakin) for forming these attachments. He learned to let go of those he loved when their time came, no matter what form that took, i.e. death or simply them choosing to take their own paths without him in their lives.

Anakin had anger issues that made it difficult for him to form proper relationships!

-Obi-Wan had horrendous anger issues. Qui-Gon initially refused to taken him on as a padawan specifically because he had a horrifc temper. He learned to control his anger so that it would no longer control him. 

Anakin was being targeted and tempted by a Sith!

-Obi-Wan was directly targeted by multiple Sith at multiple instances throughout his life. They all at one point or another tried to force him into using the Dark Side (Maul, in particular), or tried to convince him to leave the Jedi Order and become a Sith (Count Dooku, mostly, but also Asajj). He didn’t. 

Palpatine manipulated Anakin!

-Obi-Wan was also manipulated by Palpatine. Everyone in the fucking galaxy was manipulated by Palpatine. Anakin is not special. 

I could go on and on and on. This is just a small list of one to one comparisons, but like ... this doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the absolute amount of horrendous shit that Obi-Wan has gone through, even prior to Order 66. I’m not saying that Anakin’s trauma isn’t valid, nor am I trying to say that Obi-Wan is a better character than Anakin because of how much more he has gone through in comparison.

My point is this: At no point, did Obi-Wan give into the Dark Side or become a Sith. Despite the actual living hell that his life was, he never ever ever turned to the Dark Side. A lot of people like to say he came close when he faced off against Maul during the episode “Revival,” and I can definitely see where people are coming from. But he didn’t.

In the grand scheme of things, Anakin does not have a fucking excuse for becoming a Sith Lord. Not that he (or any other Sith for that matter) ever had a valid excuse to begin with. But holy fuck, my guy. If someone like Obi-Wan, who literally has not known a single day of peace, can still somehow manage to keep themselves from giving into the temptation of becoming the emobiement of all things evil, especially in response to great emotional pain ... like, my guy, there really is no fucking excuse.