#but there are many thoughts in this post that's true

[trannyradfem]

Thank you for numbering is because that genuinely does make it a lot easier to respond to.

1.) Yes, I am interacting with real people... who are complete and total strangers. Something I wasn't able to get to in my prior post, but is integral to my belief system, is that nobody can rely solely on external validation to feel ok about themselves; that is not healthy, nor is it a happy way to live. Been there, and done that, because that's what the trans community passively teaches in it's understandable desperation to be humanized by the general public. But you can't keep that mindset forever. It's absolute hell, it's not true activism, and you don't realize all that until you've grown strong enough to the point where things like this don't hurt you anymore. Because all you will feel and see is the pain until then. Not being able to see it doesn't make it any less true. I don't want you to be in pain. I want you to have such a strong sense of self that criticism from a stranger no longer feels like a punch to the gut.

My opinions should not dictate your life or harm you to the extent you're suggesting. I want you to block me if that's the case... and also invite you to curate your online experience more strictly while you take the space and time required to heal from the inherent damage being a constant political target AND suffering from dysphoria inevitably does to us. Being harmed that easily doesn't have to be your permanent reality; it's something that can be improved with resilience training, trauma processing, and being willing to give yourself the opportunity to grow. I wish I could, but I can't do that for you. I can try to tell you how if you're willing to listen. This does involve harsh truths.

You are responsible for curating your own online experience. If posts like these upset you, you can easily block them, and there's nothing wrong wit doing that. You don't need to fight 24/7 in order to be a proper activist-- you will only burn yourself out. If you want to know how to thoroughly block RF content, I don't mind making a post tutorial in order to make that accessible.j But I am not personally responsible for shielding you or anyone else from the things that make you feel bad. I have just as much right to post my thoughts as you do.

This criticism I have is about the scope of the situation, and how it's often exagerrated in order to assign shame and guilt, and ultimately silence opposition. A prime example is how a common response is to tell people they are "literally killing trans women" by... something as insignificant as posting a blog post on their own personal blog. If you think that criticism is an attack on marginalized people overall, then you are proving my point.

2.) Again with the assumptions. You know what TIF stands for, right? "Trans identified female". There is nothing inherently derogatory about that, although you're correct; many RFs DO use it that way. I don't involve myself in spaces where RFs cannot take criticism on that. I don't like hypocrites, afterall. You can't say you're fighting for women when you select specific groups of people you see as women to insult and demean over a genuine medical condition. Thankfully, there are a LOT of radfems who aren't hypocrites about this, and merely use it because they have gripes with how the trans community frames transition. I've found that many of those who feel the strongest about this lived as trans for significant portions of their lives.

In my bio, it's "FTM or TIF or whatever the fuck else you want to call me" in a tone of sarcasm, because if I say it first, it takes away that power for others to use it to insult me. You understand the concept of reclaiming slurs, right? Why am I not allowed to do that?

You also assume the pain you hold when that term is directed at you is the same exact feeling I experience. But it simply isn't; like I said, when you grow resilience (and genuinely stop giving a fuck about what online strangers have to say about you, that just comes with the territory of recovering from being doxxed multiple times), it doesn't hurt anymore. It's hardly a mosquito bite; with zero itching.

But maybe you can use this to understand why I personally hate the word "qu##r", and how it's used as an umbrella term instead of a personal identifier. It's a hard word to like when it's been directed at you countless times while someone beats the shit out of you, or worse, for being gay or trans. Strangely enough, I've never been called a "TIF" irl or during these events. Maybe the youth is different nowadays-- I will admit as an adult I am very disconnected from what goes on in the lives of those who are currently teens. I am open to hearing about your experiences, if that's something you feel inclined to do because I'm missing something here.

Lastly on this topic, I have the right to decide my own label. Pretty sure this belief is integral to most trans rights activists so I'm genuinely confused as to why it's even an issue. If another FTM wants to call himself a "fagdyke" and is comfortable with that, and the trans community generally accepts that, why can't I use "TIF" as one of many (sarcastic) descriptors for myself? Afterall, I'd be lying if I said it isn't somewhat reflective of my own self image. I am simply someone who was born female, who also transitioned. That reflects that.

More specifically, I have a lot of trauma that is exclusive to the female reproductive system and how the medical system treats AFABs overall, and also forms of misogyny that's exclusively rooted in birth sex. To deny my birth sex feels invalidating, like everything I went through never happened at all. Like the excruciating pain of my dysphoria never existed at all or shaped my life the way it did. And I hate that.

My survival and subsequent recovery is a accumulation of my own decisions, and trusting myself. Something I was told constantly by countless abusers that I cannot and should not do. I was also often told that my abuse was not abuse, or that it simply didn't happen, by many, many people, because I was raised in a cultlike environment. My happiness and health in current day is an absolute testament to just how wrong they were. I am female, that is a part of me. That is what makes me transmasc, afterall. It's a unique struggle like any trans struggle is. But so is my transition, it's just as much a part of me, too. And I love both of these truths about myself, because they are who I am.

I don't really fit into a box, and never have. Most labels the trans community has come up with do not describe me. At all. And sometimes, trans identified female simply describes all of that without having to say all that. Because that's what it means to me. Oddly enough, as much as that sounds very trans centered as far as values go, you're the first person who's ever had an issue with it. RFs don't even blink at it because they often go through my blog first to see where I'm coming from, as I have a unique perspective that isn't seen super often publically. They seem to get it without me needing to directly explain it, because those who are RFs often have suffered greatly due to sex based forms of oppression. They just get it, despite potential ideological conflicts. I'm just genuinely suprised you don't, on some level.

To further clarify, I am seen very positively in my social circles, by cis and trans people alike. I mean, I'm a licensed healthcare professional, that comes with the territory, but my reputation is not based on that alone. I've told my trans friends about how I dream of opening my own clinic that specializes in care for trans people, and the type of resources I'd invest into. All of them, even the ones that could come off as controversial. Even friends I've not gotten super close to, and have the total opposite view points from me, have truly touched my heart by cheering me on and telling me I'm the right person to do it. I am often well loved and accepted by the company I choose to be around and open up to.

Similarly, I guide and educate my cis peers-- including countless MDs and parents at this point-- on what being trans is like, and why so many of us can be so very mean sometimes. Because we are hurting, too, and often silently. Because we are casually traumatized constantly. Because we are hurt frequently without reprieve, and then it's justified by the media. Because we are hurt and betrayed by our friends and families when we come out, and no matter what we do, sometimes we can't get it through to them that allowing us to be at peace with our identities is what will truly bring us happiness and self worth. Because we are judged unfairly and by unrealistic standards. And so many, many more reasons that most cis people genuinely need to have explained to them in order to "get it", because they haven't had their lives ever submerged in that before. But once they hear it?

They come to the understanding that constant pain like that is enough to make anyone afraid of being hurt again, and defensive, snappy, and coming off as "mean" to people who simply do not get it. I break it down in a way that makes sense to them, the same way I'm trying to explain my thoughts to you. They're usually pretty amenable to this, and I have been repeatedly regarded as "extremely well educated and compassionate" through my passive work done through casual and calm conversation. I still point out things I think are wrong, or questionable, and allow room for respectful discussion, and make corrections where it's needed. That is all a lot of cis people want, as I refuse to pull out the big "fuck you" guns unless I'm given adequate reason to. Because I've hit a point of recovery where that isn't difficult to do anymore. It used to be incredibly difficult, it used to be my default.

I am thanked for this so often it genuinely scares me just how many of us of all ages are total assholes about it, because that means we are suffering deeply in a way that really looks like it may last forever. I don't want that for us. We used to say, "It gets better", in the LGBT community. I want to bring that back, but it's not all going to be self gratification. That is the truth inherent to any change at all; there will always be growing pains. How we navigate that is what matters.

If you read all that and still think I hate myself, and that my criticism is coming from a place of hatred, I'm not sure what else to tell you. But I can say that it's not very nice to invalidate someone's hard-earned recovery and health.

3.) But that's not how it works out interpersonally. I don't personally owe any individual trans woman my time or compassion if she goes out of her way to harm me, and the same is true for you as well. That's why I say things like, "You do not have to tolerate demeaning bigoted phrases and abuse from trans women". Being an activist needs to be lower priority than that because your wellbeing must come first in order to BE a good activist. That's activism 101. You clearly read what I wrote, but this is such a bad faith interpretation I genuinely wonder how well you read and understood what I wrote, or what tone you even read it in.

Again, you're confusing holding people accountable with outright murdering them or the removal of basic rights. That is not remotely the same thing. Like, seriously. You know I'm pro transition, right? What are we even arguing about here.

Tell me exactly what I'm depriving trans women of by telling trans mascs that abuse from trans women is unacceptable, and pointing out the double standard of how you guys will be violent towards "bad" trans mascs, but offer endless sympathy and understanding to "bad" trans women. Go on. How is that bigoted?

If you think this is akin to the removal of basic rights, you have a lot of recovery work to do that I cannot do for you, and nothing I say will ever change that. Yeah, sure, I don't know you, but you've displayed more than enough for me to get an idea of how your thought process works. That tells me much, much more than you think it does.

Again, you are assuming my beliefs and goals. I've asked you plenty of questions, because I cannot assume your beliefs. Why exactly should I give you that respect when you clearly don't hold it for me? Oh wait... isn't that literally your argument? That respecting marginalized people shouldn't be based on approval, beliefs, or conduct? Yknow, the respect I've extended to you? Come onnnn. You're doing the thing you say you hate, and then saying I'm the one doing it! That's genuinely called projection and gaslighting. My father did it a ton when he would abuse me. You do not have the right to do that no matter what I believe in, even by your own standards. Which, yes, at this point absolutely do look incredibly flimsy based on your conduct.

I will, as what is consistent with my self worth in any other situation, despite your assertations, block you if you continue to do that. That is not an ok way to interact with others, especially not other marginalized folk. Per your own values.

4.) Haha wait a second, so trans women are totally innocent for using an intersex slur to make a bigoted political faction, but me-- who is literally undergoing workup and diagnosis for being intersex atm-- using it uncensored makes me awful, and being a radfem-- something TRAs like you assigned to me against my will until I gave up fighting it-- wholly responsible for the trauma you claim trans women experience... at the hands of trans mascs? Yeah, right. The statistics say otherwise; by and large transfems victimize transmascs far more often than we ever do to them. That's exactly WHY I stress that we don't have to tolerate that behavior from them. Because it is so common. But you're never going to hear what I'm actually saying, are you?

All you're really saying is that trans women always matter more trans mascs, but in obfuscating language so you don't have to directly admit it. The exact thing I have a problem with, and the exact thing my original post was about in the first place. The point has gone so far over your head it's in a different zipcode.

That could not get more bad faith if you tried. I think this will the the last point I respond to. I can't even make myself read the rest of your #4 atp.

Just do me a favor. Replace "baeddel" with "TERF" and "trans woman" with "trans masc", and tell me how that's any different. Why do TERFs-- mostly marginalized female people who have been severely harmed and traumatized-- deserve rape, harassment, murder, and death, but baeddels deserve all the love and compassion in the world? There's really no getting through to you, huh?

This is the exact problem I'm talking about, and you are so badly whipped and brainwashed about it you're a massive hypocrite and totally blind to it, despite your own supposed moral stringency. You're not even arguing with me. You're arguing with the figment of your imagination you've made me out to be.

Genuinely, take a break from activism. You're filled with hatred and not thinking clearly to the extent of borderline psychosis. You are boxing with shadows and attempting to use me as the all-responsible party for the collective harm TERFs have caused to trans people, which you can't even elaborate what that even IS without justifying the very real, shitty things trans women have done to us first that even YOU can't deny.

Also? Me acknowledging what the trans community generally believes and directly says to me isn't assigning that to you, it's writing to a broader audience than just you. Because this is my blog. That other people read. But for the record, it IS worth you considering, because clearly these things have an impact on other trans people that isn't as positive as you're convinced it always is.

When you say it's ok for trans women to hurt others because they've been hurt, but condemn transmascs when we speak up about it? Yeah, no, you just hate AFABs. You're also treating trans women like men atp. Because that's the lack of accountability cishet men consistently get when they do horrible shit. We really can't be accountable here? We really have to go and mimic male-female dynamics we say we try so hard to get away from? God, how I wish you understood how fucked up this all is.

You're allowed to feel hurt from the things you've gone through, but you're not allowed to use that to demean others like you've done here to me, or justifying the abuse I've gone through at the hands of baeddels. Again, this is why I have to be a radfem, and why there will continue to be more and more radfem transmascs. Because absolutely nobody else will stand up for trans mascs without bending over backwards for trans women, all out of fear of wrongfully being labeled a bigot when they rightfully criticize individual trans women who have genuinely done shitty things. Because people like you value a potential trans woman over real trans mascs who have already suffered harm. This is exactly the point I've been making this entire time, and I have no idea why you can't just humanize me enough to respond based on what I've actually said, and not what you think I'm going to say.

Like many things here, that's on you; not me.

uvb76fan is posting in this tag talking about all the ways trans men have it “worse”, while misrepresenting the statistic she is citing. most likely banking on no one looking closer or reading the links.

this person is a terf. if you search trans on her blog it is immediately clear, i am not using terf loosely she is literally actually a terf.

we cannot let our weariness at not being heard by some of our community push us into the sick and malformed arms of transmisogyny and radical feminism, these people do not care about us at all, they are trying to harm every single one of us. our solidarity with trans women, men and people as whole should cause us to slam hard on the breaks. no matter how many trans women you see being antitransmasculine it does not mean that there are not so many more who are our genuine allies, do not let the algorithm pushing hateful person after hateful person your way skew your understandings. the transphobes want dissent, they want us to tear each other apart. we do not need to contribute to the harm to have ours lessened. (causing harm to a vulnerable minority is never morally correct no matter what got you there in the first place. also straight up trans women are easy to love and are inherently deeply deserving of community solidarity, and fascism (which terfs are) should not have any appeal whatsoever no matter how hurt you are but i digress.)

on another note: we cannot and must not reactively take on the mentalities of trans rad fems, no gender in the trans community needs to be the most oppressed to be taken seriously and given respect in our community, the equality in our suffering is immense and must be acknowledged without each group needing to prove we are the most victimized to get the care and community support we need. this is harmful no matter who is doing it. we absolutely must nip this kind of thinking in the bud.

push back on terfs in this tag everywhere you can, and if there is a reason you cannot comment or reblog to shut them down, block them on sight.

[somewheremillo]

Ivantill and Till looking at Ivan

I keep thinking about the fact that Till WOULD look at Ivan, and he saw him for him but Ivan never saw it. They always missed each other’s gaze.

Black Sorrow:

In Black Sorrow, the audience witnessed Till's pained expression when choosing to turn back, but Ivan never even saw him look. All Ivan saw was Till running back to the garden. And the audience knows that the only thing Ivan truly wanted was for Till to look at him to see him, and the tragic thing is he did. Till's expression lets the viewer see that Till cares for Ivan and knows turning back will hurt him, but he does anyway. They never explain why he turned back, but it can be inferred he didn't want to leave Mizi behind, and I'm sure that's what Ivan thought it was as well.

Blink Gone:

Till saw Ivan for who he was; he saw him as Ivan and that was the person who haunted him. Till hallucinating Ivan in the Black Sorrow outfit, he was hallucinating Ivan when he was professing his love for Till (this being one of the only times Ivan shows his true emotions/self). He's also not smiling, showing how Till knew how few times he genuinely smiled in his life.

In the second image, Ivan is in his outfit from Cure, and he's pulling his chin up so he can look at Till in the eyes, and when they meet eyes, Ivan smiles (ofc this is luka manipulating Till by imitating Ivan but the audience sees this through Till, hence why they see Ivan). Ivan smiling when he locks eyes with Till is another example of Till seeing Ivan for who he was.

The last image shows Till utterly horrified with an identical expression on his face to Mizi's in Ruler of My Heart. All he sees is Ivan, forgetting where he is or what he's doing, thinking of round 6 probably realizing his feelings as well but in seconds Till sees Mizi and snaps out of it.

Karma:

In Karma their whole dynamic was flipped on its head even tho the scene is a few seconds long.

In this scene the viewer can see Till reaching for Ivan’s hand and his face lighting up immediately when he found it, as he felt reassurance bc he could feel that Ivan was there and he wasn't alone. This scene also gives us one of the few genuine smiles from Ivan. After Till finds Ivan's hand you can see his face shoot up to look at Ivan's. Ivan looks confused for a second but when he sees Till's smile, he looks equally as happy. Till looking up to look at Ivan again shows how Till does in fact look at Ivan this conveys Till's fondness for Ivan as both of their glances are reciprocated. This could also be a metaphor for them sharing mutual feelings but not having enough time as they are falling to (presumably) their deaths.

This scene also shows Till seeking comfort with physical touch. This is shown several times in the series (with Ivan being the one to provide it to Till in more subtle ways (I can elaborate on this in a later post)). But Till initiating something like holding hands with Ivan is something that surprised him. Ivan was always the one to try and get closer to Till no matter how old they were. Ivan would make a conscious effort to get physically closer to Till, and tho most of the time Till wouldn't be receptive to this Ivan knew that it was the thing that Till found most comforting.

This scene feels like “what if they didn’t constantly misunderstand each other.” Bc even tho this scene is extremely short, you can feel that they both have an understanding that they will be there for the other unlike in the main timeline. Many times in the main timeline Ivan would look for reassurance in Till but he would always be too late. Same thing with Till, he always thought that Ivan was weird and emotionally out of reach. Till thought he didn't understand Ivan. What he realized too late was that he did understand Ivan he was just missing a piece of information that made everything click (Ivan's feelings).

Thank you for reading!

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

how much I believe the dragon age companions are Actually putting on the makeup they've been designed with

this is part 1: ORIGINS COMPANIONS! lists for other games will follow eventually.

my perspectives on this are from someone who both 1) works an outdoor job that has me traveling and camping for up to 2 weeks at a time. and 2) a second side job where i put on vast amounts of intricate makeup for every appearance. so i both wander around barefaced most days but do have a lot of experience with full face looks, as well as applying all that makeup outdoors or with limited lighting and mirrors available. I will be stealing some reference pics from the dragon age wikis for this, but also looked at other sceenshots online to see other angles or better quality.

first some general thoughts on makeup in Origins: makeup in the origins CC is categorized as eyeshadow/liner (in one toggle), blush, and lip color. These are pretty basic settings, and while the true reasoning is old graphics, it also means all the makeup is sort of blended/blurry rather than say sharp graphic or colorful eyeliners. this does change in future games, but I do think in general the 'smudgy' look suits a group of characters running around the wilderness or sleeping in a tent rather than living indoors.

Leliana: Orlesian. Bard. Embraces other stereotypically girly interests like dresses and shoes. It is easily believable that she not only wears makeup but spends the time applying it every day. She likes to feel pretty and would bother with it even while camping, because why not? Leliana is shown with eyeshadow/liner, rouge, and a somewhat neutral lipstick. All fine by me 👍

Morrigan: Morrigan was my original complaint/inspiration for this post, as I discussed previously. Her dialogue about the mirror implies she wasn't allowed 'vain' pleasures growing up, and that she didn't have many personal items. at the same time, legend says Flemmeth used to seduce & kill men, and Morrigan states there's an expectation for her to perhaps follow that route eventually too. So: did Flemeth teach her makeup once she got older? did Morrigan rebel and sneak a mirror and products somewhere to learn anyway? and on a practical note, would she spend the time to wake up and put it on in the morning? She does wear a lot of jewelry, and appreciates being gifted more, so I do think that she would be down for adding extra time to her morning routine simply for the sake of aesthetics. However she also acts prickly about 'girly' things like clothes and fashion, protesting that she lives in the woods, and expressing discomfort when Leliana is staring at and evaluating her, though at the same time acknowledging she's considered attractive in general. What a complex lady! Anyway, I can buy her liking makeup, but I think early-game-Morrigan is a bit too defensive and standoffish to be wearing as much dramatic eyeliner, eyeshadow, blush, contour, and dark lipstick as she is. Character design is static in these games, so they all come looking the way they're introduced, but if we ignore that my 'fun' thought is that she picks up doing makeup once she and Leliana get to know each other better.

Alistair: Not designed with any makeup. Of course it's only the male companions who get to skip it across the board, but whatever, I'm ignoring bioware's double standards for now. I agree with Alistair not wearing makeup anyway. His upbringing didn't exactly allow him a lot of freedom to explore things like that, with the chantry/templars, and he's very much a do-what-i'm-told person vs someone who chafes and wants to seek out other forms of self expression.

Wynne: if i was an old lady i would NOT be bothering, but my grandma wore makeup every day until she died at age 89, so clearly it matters to some people. we don't know anything about the history of cosmetics or societal pressure about makeup in Thedas, but we do know Wynne the Circle mage like things like structure, routine, and ritual. So I buy her following her usual morning makeup routine even though she is waking up in a swamp now. That's fine i guess. But I do think she should be in LESS eyeshadow than she's shown with just because on older skin crumbly products like shadow are way less likely to stick without extra primers & setting spray which are too modern for this setting. Just a touch of color on the lid without going so far up to the eyebrow & temple would make more sense. The blush & lips can stay, and the pinkish tones do read a bit more fashioned to me.

Shale: missed opportunity here tbh. before Shale even finds out she used to be a dwarven woman, she enjoys how the crystals and gemstones you find make her look fetching and catch the light. she would LOVE more glittery adornments. "how is a pile of rock going to wear makeup" you ask? easy: spraypaint. Shale should get to pick different graffiti decals every month and just power wash them off once they start to fade. at LEAST lets get her some nail polish. please live forever you beautiful golem, someday Thedas will manage to invent these things and you can rock out the way you were clearly meant to.

Zevran: another letdown here. he deserves some cunty eyeliner. ioware your double standards for male vs female characters is showing. while Zevran's promiscuity is something that he was trained to embrace with the Crows without choice and in part an act (to hide his insecurities about real emotion/connection), i think he'd enjoy the dramatic flair some makeup products offer. the tattoos are sort of a 'permanent' makeup in this way. i don't think he'd do makeup every day but when bored in camp would be the one using a dagger to draw dramatic eyeliner wings.

Sten: Not designed with any makeup. Sten values practicality in day to day life, and I would say a lot of his appreciation for fine art is about the skill, history, and craft itself more than the end product of just 'a pretty thing', or he'd also like jewelry/baubles. plus, the Qun wouldn't allow flexibility for its warriors to spend time/money/product on something that frivolous; and once in southern Thedas he still disdains things he thinks are a waste of time by the Ferelden barbarians. HOWEVER. what the Qun DOES allow is vitaar, which is a qunari-specific form of warpaint in special designs that honestly IS kind of a parallel equivalent to makeup just with a specific combat function of poisoning every other race on touch etc. unfortunately, the devs did not invent this stuff until after origins as far as i am aware. so while i would LOVE to see Sten with some vitaar options, alas, we are deprived in the Origins timeline. and since he is sort of living in disgrace away from the Qun when we find him, I do think he could be stoically choosing not to use vitaar bc of All That and wouldn't care for other forms of makeup. so lack of makeup is Believable. but also i hope as the newest Arishok he does eventually get some sexy red and white warpaint and i will put my hands all over his big strong body even if the stuff kills me. who said that

Oghren: Not designed with any makeup. Oghren............. well at the point we meet him he is too drunk to care about much beyond trying to find his ex-wife, and then being Sad about how that all worked out. perhaps he had a more wild youth, but at least for the Origins timeline, that man is not waking up early for makeup routine. I do think DAO does him pretty dirty character depth wise but, yeah, not he's not gonna be wearing any of that on his own.

Loghain: Not designed with any makeup... i THINK. the area around his eyes is WAY darker than other npcs, BUT i am pretty sure this is to indicate that he is sleep deprived and perhaps scheming rather than supposed to be an actual product. It's supposed to be read as dark circles, not eyeshadow, kind of mirrored by his stubble shadow. Loghain is also a heavily practical man above all else. He is old, busy, and has too much other shit going on such as trying to maintain rule over the whole kingdom, hunt down the escaped wardens, and desperately try to pretend a blight isn't also happening. he is NOT putting on any product including the lotions he probably needs. alas.

Dog: DON'T THINK I FORGOT that dog gets to wear makeup aka kaddis, the special mabari warpaint :)))))) he lets you paint all over him no problem and a very good boy he is!!!!!!!!! 10/10 on this one Bioware, wish you let some of the women be bare faced in this medieval fantasy setting but at least i get to fingerpaint my dog as a consolaton prize

[sentient-stove]

Ngl I agree with you on the whole parent tag thing. I understand that not seeing what you want in your tag can be frustrating but if everything is tagged that's just life? Like I don't like certain ships in my fandoms. Doesn't mean I have the right to yell at those who ship them when I see so many grayed out boxes. Same with character tags. Also if someone wants to block dp they shouldn't have to block every variation of crossover.

I also have a problem with the whole "A discord group decided for tumblr users (with most tumblr users not in said discord) to tag a certain way" so anyone who tags differently is immature and wrong. Like if the whole fandom came to consensus that's fine, but that's not what is happening? I've been in all three spaces for at least a year and in dp for longer and I've never heard about this so called consensus actually being agreed upon. Mainly just different groups being super rude about things and talking down to others because of how they tag.

Yeah, there’s no true way to get people to decide to do things, and one discord server isn’t “everyone”. I honestly thought the server that had been referenced was the Haunting Heroes dcxdp server (which is 18+ only) until it was confirmed to me that that server was not the referenced dcxdp one.

At the end of the day, no one owns a tag, no one can make everyone agree to leave, crossovers have a place in fandom under the parent tags and we can really only promote that people tag more extensively instead of less. I often see the argument that “well I was bullied out of x parent tag so it’s fine!” When like. That also should not have happened to you. You were using the tags to mark the content inside your post. Why are we suddenly promoting poor tagging practices. Are we heathens now.(apparently)

Tagging is for blog archival first, engagement second and I just find it hilarious that a lot of new dp only content gets rejected by general fandom unless it’s a regurgitated version of an already existing, often extremely fanon, take. Mayhaps instead of bullying out a crossover whose crime is tagging fully and having some ooc takes, we promote the content we want to see. Tearing others down takes us nowhere but backwards.

[aurieeeeeenyx]

while it's still pride month, here are my thoughts on a potential queer interpretation of kpop demon hunters in no particular order

before anyone starts getting mad, i just want to remind you that this is all in good fun and if you disagree, that's totally fine. however, as a queer person, i see a lot of parallels in this movie that resonate with my own experiences and those that i've seen from others in the queer community.

first of all, kpdh and rumi's character arc in particular focus a lot on resisting expectations in order to be authentically yourself. while this is not an exclusively queer experience, and is in fact one that real life idols must contend with, i think any queer person can relate to hiding your true self in order to conform to the "image" other people hold you to.

the song "Golden" really feels like a queer anthem in this sense; while i definitely relate to the bicultural experience zoey alludes to in her lines, "i lived two lives / tried to play both sides / but i couldn't find my own place", i think it also is a feeling many closeted people know well, especially bi, aro/ace, and nonbinary people. mira's follow-up line, "called a problem child / 'cause i got too wild" can be interpreted as a reference to the scorn and ostracization many queer people face when they are too "loud" about their own identity. and rumi's quiet, "waited so long to break these walls down / to wake up, and feel like me" ? ohhh man...especially considering she was looking at herself in the mirror. trans vibe, anyone?

the pre-chorus through post-chorus of "Golden" feel so freeing after all that, as the unapologetic authenticity shines through. i think "What It Sounds Like" also reflects this theme, so i'm not going to dissect it because it'd be more of the same, but my thoughts on it essentially boil down to that song feeling like a coming out.

on the flip side, we have the shame that seems to power the demons (or at least gwi-ma) in this world. it's quite easy to say that the demons represent internal demons as well as physical ones (see the lyrics of "Free" and "What It Sounds Like"), but in the context of a queer interpretation this tie to shame specifically—rather than rage, jealousy, etc.—struck me as rather fitting. many queer people experience shame, self-loathing, and so on for being queer in a world that refuses to accept us. in the movie, the huntrix girls initially follow the age-old formula of "our faults and fears must never be seen," which also contributed to the shame that split them apart and let gwi-ma take advantage of mira and zoey. rumi herself is told over and over by celine—her own pseudo-mother—that she must shed her own identity in order to be accepted, and nearly convinces jinu of the same. internalized homophobia, who?

but again, the movie insists that shame must be overcome (i.e., the old honmoon being destroyed and replaced with a new one when "What It Sounds Like" plays, rumi showing her patterns proudly at the end of the movie, etc.) so that one can really shine. yup, the coming out vibes are strong in these scenes.

as a random side note, i thought that moment when the saja boys transform back into their demon forms after returning to the demon realm and a demon happily tells their friend, "they're just like us," was an interesting nod to the desire for representation.

now: moving on to the fact that this movie is built around kpop. while i would consider myself at most a casual kpop enjoyer, i think the reaches of kpop's "queerification" extends even beyond kpop fandom. if you're reading this post, chances are you've at least heard of the kpop fandoms on ao3, youtube, twitter, tiktok, etc. and the ships that dominate them, but even if you haven't, queer fanservice has become ever more present in the kpop sphere. plus, many fans of kpop are queer, and find community with those like them who also have the same interests. coincidence or not, the fact that kpdh is about kpop idols definitely leaves space for queerness to permeate its themes of expressing oneself freely and connecting to others with your genuine, raw self rather than a carefully constructed version of yourself.

and finally, the most important piece of evidence for this whole interpretation:

rumi's bisexual eyeliner. what an icon.

[moonfang256]

My thoughts about Deltarune, Chapters 3 & 4 (Part 9)

❤️ <( Continuing the adventure, as we walked, we saw these images along the way, and Susie asked Ralsei what they were.

He told us it's the complete prophecy, and what he had told us so far was basically a summary of it (interesting…)

❤️ <( We kept moving between light and darkness, saw more of this imagery, and Ralsei told us more about it, such as: They prophesy events that will happen and come true later in the game.

It's like seeing the future through a crystal ball.

❤️ <( Our conversation was interrupted when we saw someone spying on us from a distance and walking to the side. We decided to follow that shadow, but…

❤️ <( A hammer flew swiftly towards that image and shattered it completely, leaving us in complete darkness.

❤️ <( Luckily, our steps generated sound waves, and when we reached the end…

❤️ <( A fetus-like thing roared at us and chased us in the darkness.

We ran as fast as we could until we reached a lighted area.

❤️ <( Susie was ready to attack the creature, however…

❤️ <( The light came on, the creature got away and he appeared.

"NO WAY, GERSON!!! AHHHHH!!!"

❤️ <( No Susie, it's all good, he's an old pal.

❤️ <( This is Gerson, also known as "The Hammer of Justice".

This man in another world was a wise cool salesman who sold me a lot of glasses, which I then sold to a Temmie to get a very strong armor, to protect the child I was controlling back then. These glasses I'm wearing now (not the Spamton ones) are one of them.

Also, I can't believe one of the many theories I made came true.

Respect for the dead.

❤️ <( I did want to, but Susie didn't feel like taking care of the elderly, so we were just leaving when Gerson stopped us to ask:

❤️ <( Hmm, let me take some notes and create a new term for this:

"Duskner": Monsters that died in the Light World, whose dust remains ended in an object, and by brought it to the Dark Worlds, it come to life as something resembling a Darkner (a "Flowey").

❤️ <( Anyway, Susie got irritated with the situation and we decided the old man should follow us (although, it's obvious that being an old turtle he would walk slowly).

❤️ <( "I stare at Ralsei for a moment and talk to Kris" He'd look like a younger version of your dad, probably with a pink beard.

Hold on... What about a long rainbow beard?

🔪​ <( "They smirk a little just imagining that"

❤️ <( Noted, I'll draw that later.

--------

To be continued in the next post.

[lucid-loves]

Black Blood Red Kiss ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley ~ Part 5

Pairing: Ghost x vampire!reader (fem!reader, 141!reader, callsign “Fangs”)

Word Count: 2.7k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, smut, biting, teasing, kisses, jealousy, possessiveness, friends with benefits, coworkers with benefits, feeling denial, family drama.

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: Being turned into a vampire never stopped you from joining the military. In fact, it only made it easier for you with new strength, stamina, reflexes, and precision. The only challenge you now faced was keeping your true nature a secret. This is incredibly difficult to do when your new teammate, Ghost, smells so delicious. What will happen to your relationship with him once you both get a dangerous taste of each other?

Chapter Synopsis: You’re worrying about the consequences during your post-nut clarity. If things were going to continue the way they were, you needed to set some ground rules. Ghost doesn’t care for them, but you have other things to worry about. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5

The periwinkle haze of the sunrise washed the horizon as you let out a cloud of smoke. The crimson sun was easy on your eyes as the land shielded its brightest middle. Your bones settled further into the patio chair, letting your thoughts take the reigns. 

You did it. You slept with your boss.

And it was really fucking good.

Not that you would admit it to his face, but he was the best sexual partner you’ve had. Ever. Even without the aphrodisiac consequences, he was incredibly skilled. It wasn’t hard to realize that fact. God, and his dick? A guy that well gifted could have his pick of the lot based on that alone.

It still didn’t make any of this right, though. You were still his subordinate, no matter what he called you in the bedroom. Nothing has happened yet, but you could foresee him stubbornly refusing this to just be a one night stand too. And if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t want last night to be the last time you had such satisfying sex.

Waking up that morning was easy. Leaving bed was difficult. You found yourself in Ghost’s arms, holding you tight against his body while he softly slept. It took you a moment to maneuver out of his hold without waking him up. You had debated calling for a ride and leaving, but you figured that that would have been too mean, even for you. 

You took a deep inhale of your cigarette and raked a hand through your messy hair. The clouds were starting to add a petal pink to the blues. Stars began to disappear one by one. You exhaled.

“Thought you left for a moment.” A familiar voice grumbled behind you, sleepiness still present in his voice. 

Ghost was startled to wake up in an empty bed. He thought you ditched him like you would with someone that you would only spend one measly night with. While he wasn’t normally the clingy type with anyone, you were an exception for many reasons. He didn’t trust what you would do and who you would see yet outside of his vicinity.

When he was crossing over his living room and happened to see you through the glass of his back porch, his heart felt instant relief. Fears fled through the sliding glass door only for soft butterflies to invade instead. You had borrowed one of his shirts that was definitely too big on you. Yet, it was a perfect fit.

You hummed as he took a seat in the chair next to you, deciding to enjoy the sunrise as well. While you would have normally been tense in his presence, you were unwound so nicely. It felt natural to have his scent envelop your senses now. The silence felt more comfortable.

Just a few more minutes before you had to ruin it.

Ghost swiped your pack from the ground to smoke as well, the nicotine hitting him like a fresh cup of tea. Looking over at you, he took in features that he hadn’t been able to appreciate last night while it was darker.

Your hair, while post-sex messy, was gorgeous. The oversized shirt revealed some upper thigh that he would love to put his hands on again. One thing he did find odd, though, was a prominent scar right on your collar bone. Two dots not unlike fang marks.

Curiosity got the better of him. “The bite scars always heal over. Why did those stay?”

You unconsciously touched your mark and finished off your cigarette. There was no point in hiding the truth from him now. Besides, he hasn’t really asked you questions about being a vampire before this. You could cut him some slack as thanks for the great lay. “This is when I was turned. The bite that turns a human into a vampire always stays.”

The air began to feel heavier as Ghost treaded into deeper, personal details about you. He hesitated to ask further, afraid that the icy walls you usually had up would close him out again. Luckily, he didn’t have to ask out loud. You knew what he was thinking.

You snuffed out the butte of your smoke and stretched, your bones cracking, then settling. Ghost watched the entire time, the move like slow motion for him. “It was a blind date. Seventeen. Some homeschooled boy that my friend at the time thought would be a good match for me. He was from out of town, smart, rich.”

“Fuck it. I had nothing else going for me. So, I went, got wined and dined, and we went back to his place. There wasn’t much there in terms of emotional chemistry, but he was cute. I was bored. And then he bit me. It was fun at first. Except, he drank too much.”

You picked up another cigarette and lit it up, the warmth of the fire from your lighter bringing you a temporary comfort as your skin began to crawl at the memory. “I don’t blame him. He was newly turned and just a kid. He didn’t tell his parents what happened. They just assumed that he was depressed and needed a new town to start fresh in. Anyway, I died. He freaked out because of course he did. He fed me his blood to save me and when I came to, boom, vampire.”

Ghost noticed your chill, the split second giving away the facade in your light-hearted tone. He pried cautiously. “I feel like you’re leaving out a lot of other details.”

“That’s because I am leaving out a lot of other details.” You admitted, shutting that particular door for the time being, if not forever if you could help it. The day you turned was the worst and best day of your life. It depended on the day of which one it was. 

Letting sleeping dogs lie, Ghost moved on. He absolutely hated it when you shut him down like that, but he didn’t want to pick a fight first thing in the morning. Especially when last night was so good. He tried to be grateful for the little information you did grace him with.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” He offered politely, trying to give you reasons to stay just a little longer with him. 

You looked over at him for the first time that morning. He had a few cowlicks in his hair and light stubble was growing in. His eyes seemed more refreshed than usual. Normally, Ghost seemed tired. Black paint can only hide so much exhaustion. He had come outside in only a pair of boxer briefs. Pair that with the golden glow of the rising sun and now you had the flutters. 

Looking back at the horizon, you hid your oncoming blush. “Yeah. I’ll have a coffee.”

Ghost smirked, knowing that when you hid behind your hair like that, you were actually becoming bashful. It made him feel good knowing that you liked what you saw. Now, he was hoping that you would crave it like he already did with yours.

While he prepared your cup of coffee, you began to put together what you wanted to talk about next. It was impossible to turn back the clock, so there was no choice but to adapt. If things were going to continue like this, you needed to lay down some ground rules. Rules were good for protecting both your reputation and your heart.

By the time Ghost returned with a mug filled with morning brew, you knew what you wanted to say. The porcelain warmed your hands in contrast to the cool morning air. “Last night was good. I’m assuming it was good for you too?”

He took a sip of his drink and hummed in agreement. Good was an understatement for him. He’s never felt so alive having sex before. It was exciting, satisfying, and fun to be with you. It felt good for him physically and emotionally. Watching you orgasm over and over from his efforts was something he couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of. “It was. What are you thinking?”

“I think it would be foolish to try to keep last night just a one time thing. If we are being honest with ourselves, last night will probably happen again.” You admitted, blowing off steam rising from the top of the brew. 

Ghost wanted to kiss those slightly puckered lips. “Is that something you don’t want?”

“I didn’t say that. We just need some rules.” 

You were a tough nut to crack. He thought that he was being rather obvious that last night was more than just taking the edge off for him. His jaw clenched as you remained adamant about your boundaries. For now, he played along. It was this or losing you for good. “Go ahead then.”

You swallowed down a sip, the rich flavor melding together with a sweet aftertaste. He added just the right amount of creamer in your coffee. It rejuvenated you. “First off, no more kissing-”

“No.”

At that, you swiveled your head towards him. You weren’t expecting him to object so resolutely already. You frowned. “Kissing is what lovers do. We aren’t lovers.”

He bit his tongue so hard that he nearly chopped it off with his own teeth. His muscles felt tense like piano strings about to snap. The worst part was that you were right, so he had no room to argue. He would’ve admitted his true feelings if you weren’t so walled up still. 

The silence was taken as compliance. You continued. “Second, no missionary position. That’s also something that only lovers do. Third, the only place that we can do it is yours.”

“Why not yours?” He questioned, feeling even more offended that you were still so cold even after everything. 

You took another swig, being careful that your fangs didn’t hit the side of the cup. “My place is my sanctuary. Not everyone is invited in.”

“And who said mine wasn’t?” He grumbled, his anger slowly matching the temperature of the drink in his hand. 

You ignored his attitude. “Meetups to have sex will be planned at least two days in advance. If one of us needs to cancel, then we have to let each other know sooner rather than later. Most importantly, this secret strictly stays between us. I don’t kiss and tell, so I expect that you don’t either. Agreed?”

He gave a begrudging hum in agreement, but it was an agreement nonetheless. “I got a rule of my own.”

You gestured for him to reveal them. It was only fair.

“You are not allowed to see anyone other than me even if one of us cancels. I won’t be seeing anyone else either.” 

What was it with him and wanting to be exclusive so badly? Was he really that much of the jealous type? You could understand not wanting to share, but this felt like more than just that. However, you eventually nodded, giving Ghost at least some relief. He didn’t like your rules. At least now you won’t be sleeping with anybody else, though.

“If that’s it, then it’s a deal. Exclusive coworkers with benefits.” You concluded before finishing off your cup of coffee. Once it was polished off, you stood and prepared to get ready to go back home. 

Simon sat alone, watching the sun rise further above the horizon, pain stinging his heart. When were you going to hurry up and fall in love with him already?

~

The ride back to your place was quiet. Not that you minded much. It was actually nice to be in Ghost’s car and just relax. It gave you space to think about how you wanted the rest of your day to go. Dinner, errands, the works that made most people tired of just thinking about. You actually liked the independence.

When the car stopped in front of your apartment, you unbuckled your seatbelt. However, a strong hand grabbed your wrist before you could get out. Without warning, Ghost gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek.

You blushed furiously. “Wha-”

“When you said no more kisses, I’m assuming you only meant lips to lips. Everything else is free game.” He mischievously revealed, the glimmer in his eyes making your stomach do flips. 

Clicking your teeth, you exited the car and hurried inside the complex. You didn’t need to look back to know that he was basking and smiling in pride. He was going to be the death of you if you weren’t careful.

When you opened your apartment door, you were startled to see that the lights were on and your tv was blasting a video game you haven’t touched in ages. On your black, suede couch sat your younger brother, enjoying himself.

And you didn’t think you could take any more surprises today.

“What are you doing here?” You asked rather aggressively. You had given him the spare key to your place for emergencies only, not to just hang out. He was supposed to let you know if he needed to come over too. Given the blankets and pillows he took from your linen closet decorating your couch, he had stayed overnight.

He paused his game and stretched out. “Finally you’re back! I’ve been waiting since last night, you know?”

You set your keys down on your kitchen counter with a loud jangle. “You should’ve called.”

“And have you ignore me? Or worse, change your locks? That sounds like something you would totally do, by the way.” Your brother retorted, his tone easy as he was used to your prickly personality. 

“Griffin.” You simply warned. 

Luckily, he got the hint and turned off the console. He also began to tidy up his mess. “Mom wants you to come to a family dinner.”

You scoffed as you put your jacket away. “Family dinner? Or my intervention?”

“Y/n, I think she really means it this time. She’s been depressed recently.” Griffin revealed, treading very carefully given your feelings about your parents. 

“She’s probably just having a mid-life crisis and realizing that this is her last chance to get grandkids out of me before she dies miserably. I don’t trust her.” 

Griffin cringed at your harsh words. He wasn’t the biggest fan of mother either, but he still had sympathy for her unlike you. Not that he blamed you much. The family drama resentment was messy, even for an insider like him. Still, he wanted to try. “Please just come this once? I don’t want to be the only one there. Besides, it’s going to be at Dante’s. You love that place.”

You gave an exasperated sigh and looked over at him. Right on cue, he began to give you big, puppy-dog eyes. You really, really wanted to say no. Every single time you’ve attended a family dinner, it’s been a complete disaster. It’s the reason why you haven’t attended one in years. Yet, you felt like you owed one to your brother. He’s helped you avoid her all these years after all. Which was not at all an easy thing knowing your mom.

“One hour. I reserve the right to leave earlier if she’s being a bitch.” You finally caved. 

Griffin hugged you tight while you died inside. You took back what you thought before. Ghost wasn’t going to be the death of you. Your mother was.

[purpleconch]

Forgotten Sea

⋆˚࿔ word count: 1.4k

⋆˚࿔ author’s note: forgotten sea is one of my favorite memories, so I tried to expand a bit on what mc was personally feeling during the process. hopefully this also feels like what you had envisioned for the card, but everyone's thoughts are different!

warnings: feeling of despair and worthlessness, please take care if you may feel like you are not in the right headspace to read

⋆˚࿔ credit: @.cursed-carmine for the ribbon dividers again

The day had come, you were to meet the very being behind your daily prayers–whom you thank before and after each meal. A day when you became the age to be blessed by the Sea God, the being that could walk the lands and maneuver through water for centuries. The various tales of the God in the sea, how he needed a range of sacrifices to continue to bless your civilization and satisfy his satiating appetite. Hundreds of young women and men drifted out to sea, never to find a haven in the rough waves of a storm, erupted by the Sea God as he feasted on the flesh of the individual. Most importantly, the Sea God’s one true weakness, the true devout follower. In a selection of denizens, a single soul could claim the heart of the Sea God–speak an order and he would follow. Devotees, one after another, claimed in the pool of nothing the whispers of the devoted follower becoming a myth. How could a myriad of humans be brought to the Sea God for almost a century, yet not one specimen tamed the fiery heart?

You remembered the day you entered the small tent along the coast, an old man, skin wrinkled, decorated with various markings along the areas exposed. He whispered in an uncommon language, tracing his fingers along the weathered down book. Pages yellow and unnaturally flat, each turn of the page filling the room with a shadow as it blocked the one lit candle. The man, decorated with an assortment of jewels, lifted his arms, each pearl sewn into the cape following the motion of the limbs. His hands sifting through the multitude of artifacts before pulling out an opalescent pearl, light unveiling the myriad of colors mended into the piece. Burrowing it into the palm of my hands, sealing my fingers over it. My fate was decided; I was to be sent with the rest of the sacrifices on the boat in the next month.

The long white dress scraped the wooden floors as you boarded the ship, with no one to turn to, no parent, sibling, someone close enough to care that you had been sent off. Forced to become a gift to a deity you had no interest in worshipping, much less appeasing. All the whispers and proud preaching of denizens turned you away a long time ago–this tradition being a major part of your distaste for the Sea God. You had pleaded for him to give you a miracle many moons ago, to hear your pleas and grant your wish. Yet nothing came of it; you still led your life the same, miserable and without hope.

The farther from the shore you traveled, the louder the weeping got. Tens of people crying in patterns of dresses, sequined suits, and feathered hats. How each individual was now exquisite, palatable with their rosy cheeks and done up hair. Jewels pranced around the collars–sapphire, emerald, ruby, and dozens more dimmed as clouds enveloped the clear sky. The once calm transition into night had become rocky. Wind picked up, cramping dozens of people on the lower deck. The rain began picking up, dousing the ship fully, starting the catastrophe to ensue. People sliding past the railing, scraping at the wooden floor for friction, and cast into the sea. The look to the horizon was foggy, the rain stinging your eyes, and your arm ached, wrapped around the sail’s post. The storm strengthened, waves sending one last push before tilting the ship on its side. The cramp traveled through your arm, tensing the muscle. The unbearable pain strengthened—it wasn’t long before it was too much to bear. Both limbs lose their strength, releasing you from the ship.

It was a mere instant, your body hit the water. With no time to think, you were surrounded by nothing but pieces of a shipwreck. Water consumed you, holding you captive in its essence. Your muscles were sore, weak enough that you could barely fight back as you drifted further from the surface. “It’s over,” you thought. The uncomfortable loneliness would come to an end, never again forced to wake up every morning and live a life you found no happiness in. Maybe this was the blessing the dozen of priests promised, the blessing of an end.

At the end of life, the end of consciousness, you made your final request to the Sea God.

“If I had one more chance, I’d live differently.”

Fluttering eyes forced open by the sun tucking away into the horizon. You were somehow alive, feeling warmth surrounding your wintry body. The wave of pain washing over your body, aches perched on various joints. Your back feeling most of the inertia of the crashing waves you plummeted into. While the sky was still dark, the waves were calmer, and somehow you were inches away from a man, holding desperately onto driftwood. Purple hair with various etchings ran along his skin, over his body was a breathtaking blue sheer cloth, tucked into his waistband, decorated with a gorgeous gold belt. His pale skin was brought to color with his pink lips and purple hair. His beauty was something told in tales, to be digested once by the eyes and to never again be graced. Told by individuals who were left drifted at sea and never believed by whoever they told.

Finally, you gather your strength and muster up a few words.

“Save me…”

His expression remains unchanged, concealing the instrument in his hand before responding to you.

“Are you asking for help?” His voice was neutral with no real tone to indicate what he was feeling. You were desperate to cling to life, yet the man in front of you seemed to have your life on a pendulum, swinging it back and forth. 

The man reaches his hand; however, when you reach back, his hand erupts into a small flame. You retreat immediately, a small laugh coming from him. Frustrated, you hang onto him, clinging your fingers to his forearm. 

The scales, the decorated skin, and his impossible ability to somehow survive a dangerous storm, he was Lemurian. In the back of your mind, you thought of the old tale you had heard in your adolescence. Something about breathing underwater? Yet you couldn’t remember exactly.

Press your lips onto divinity to be blessed with the ability to breathe underwater.

While you heard story after story when you were younger, it had just seemed to be fiction. How could you trust that the man standing in front of you would be able to save you? Grant your wish from the Sea God, you had only made out of hopelessness. 

“Let go of me.” His lip shaping into a snarl, hand dragging away from your grip, yet you still maintained the strength. 

“Who are you?” You ask him, eyes pierced into his, noticing the dark blue eyes mixed in with hues of a light red, bordering pink. He turned his head, staring off into the crashing waves, avoiding your question. 

Kissing him wouldn’t be the end of the world, however, kissing a man you met in the middle of the sea to test out some crazy story you heard when you were 7. You’d be stuck with him in the middle of the ocean for who knows how long. What if you kissed him and then he just left you in despair for days? However, you decided to take the chance, reaching over the driftboard, you held on and grabbed his face. His neutral expression faltered before you reached your lips to his. 

Pulling back, his demeanor had changed; the once neutral, aloof man had stiffened. 

“I will grant you deliverance, and in exchange.” Voice stern, a gaze focused and tranquil. He pushed away the plywood, pulling you into his embrace. You had no strength to push against him, no way out of what was happening.

“Offer yourself, your everything to me. Become my follower, mortal.”

“I don’t believe in Gods.” You spat back.

“You will.”

He let you go, diving into the deep water. You mustered up the strength to keep afloat. Mere seconds after, you were pulled into the water, yet the water hadn’t engulfed your airways; you could somehow breathe like you were on the surface. The man swam to you, taking your hand in his and pulling you deeper into the unknown. However, your body had given up, and the stress of the day began to take you. Your eyes fighting the sleep, you nodded off. The last thing you felt was his hands cupping your head as you passed out.

[bluejay-flies]

Something I’ve noticed recently is that fan comics/fan fiction are often seen as lesser to original creations. While I get where this idea comes from, as a (mainly) fan artist it hurts a lot to see people talk about fan work as if it doesn’t take the same amount of effort, skill, creativity and commitment to make as original stories. I feel pressured to make ocs and draw them/write about them/make a comic because fan work is “invalid” in some way. Hell, I’m starting to realize that’s part of why my motivation has been so bad recently. I have so many ideas for aus and stories for different fandoms, but as soon as I start creating I start doubting myself. I start thinking “what if people say this is stupid?” “What if I’m just creating the same trope everyone else has done already?” “Has the fandom truly exhausted every idea, enough so that mine is completely unoriginal?”

It’s hard to keep motivation with these thoughts plaguing your mind. Now, that’s not to say fan media isn’t popular. I know it’s very common for people to post their ocs and get like 5 notes, then post art of Spider-Man and get 100. I want to make it very clear that this post is not shaming people who make original stories and characters. Character creation is a fun process that also requires a lot of skill. Fan work is based on a pre-existing story/character, which can seem like less work than starting from scratch. In reality, there’s a lot more that goes into fanart than most people realize. You can try to stay true to the character, or throw them into situations so insane they act completely differently. You have to work hard to translate their design into your own style when drawing them. And you have to come up with your own ideas of various scenarios, alternate universes and timelines, and even different versions of the story itself. Fan work is essentially taking a piece of playdough and working it into a shape you enjoy more than the regular shape it comes in, the shape it makes when still in its little plastic container. You can make lots of different shapes, can combine different colors and take away part of it to make something else. It’s supposed to be fun, and it requires creativity to think of what you could do with the bare playdough, as well as executing it.

So, all that to say, if you only make fan work and feel bad about not making original characters/stories or feel like your ideas are worth less, know that I see you. It sucks to feel that way but if you enjoy something, the best you can do is ignore what others might think and create purely out of love for the fandom. Keep going, I’m proud of you!

[plrle]

1.1. camille desmoulins in the eyes of contemporaries: was he really THAT emotional?

i’m starting a series of posts dedicated to the subject of camille desmoulins’ portrayal in european dramas of xix-xx centuries. i’m going to post it rather irregularly, since i’m travelling right now, and because of artfight, but i’ll try nonetheless!

before we begin to analyse dramatic works that include the figure of camille desmoulins as one of the characters, let us consider how the personality of camille desmoulins was perceived during his lifetime, both by people who knew him personally, and by those who weren’t exactly friends with him but still had to encounter his texts and statements in the political space.

given that this paragraph is devoted to a review of the views of contemporaries, it is worth noting that many of the presented opinions are going to be highly subjective sometimes and may not reflect the real historical situation. propaganda is one of the most powerful tools in politics; often the statements of certain frev politicians may be backed not so much by their real opinion on desmoulins as by a desire to support or, on the contrary, to accuse desmoulins/the dantonists/club des cordeliers of something. and we’ll also investigate the impression camille made on his contemporaries and the image that was formed around him during his lifetime.

since i’m already posting on frevblr, i will omit describing his biography :D we all know at least some basic facts about desmoulins’ life. yet the semi-mythical stories surrounding camille's image begin as early as his adolescence. fleury tells of camille desmoulins' strange behaviour when he returned to guise on vacation in 1784. the guests who had gathered to dine with the young student, had heard that he became very emotional when the topic of conversation touched on republican ideas. one of the guests deliberately provoked desmoulins by denying all his theses, from which camille, angry, trembling and almost crying, got up from the table, threw a dinner-napkin on his head, jumped on the table and spoke at length about his principles. he really likes jumping on furniture to say his speeches, eh?

later on, when camille became a famous journalist, there are also stories of how emotional he might get in comparison to other people. according to joachim vilate, on hearing the sentence of the еribunal révolutionnaire to execute the brissotins, camille, although he himself had contributed to the decision, became extremely agitated and threw himself into the arms of vilate, crying out loud about how he is killing them all and how he wants to leave.

and, of course, then there’s this well-known speech by robespierre in jacobin club of 18 nivôse, when, discussing camille, robespierre called him “a child with good intentions, but who was led astray by bad company”.

then there are stories about his behaviour during the imprisonment, but, in my opinion, the emotional reactions of his in this case, if they were true, are quite valid - imagine being arrested and not knowing what will happen to your wife - death probably awaits her. needless to say, many people would probably cry in this situation.

so, the patrol tasked with arresting desmoulins and danton found the former in tears, though in a remarkably calm state of mind.

while imprisoned, camille wrote in his letters to lucile: "the thought of my solitude, the dreadful bars that separate me from you, overcame all my firmness of soul. i burst into tears, or rather I sobbed, crying out in my tomb. lucile! lucile! oh my dear lucile, where are you?". the original letter bears traces of his tears.

on his way to the scaffold, seized by rage and despair, laughing nervously and agitated, camille tried to tear the ropes and, tearing his shirt to shreds, addressed the crowd with a last appeal.

in conclusion of this post, the image of camille's personality was already formed during his lifetime: he appears as a charismatic journalist, gullible, overly influenced by emotions. his image wasn't always of a crybaby, though! marat spoke of him as a man whom ‘nature made so cheerful, so witty, so friendly’. if you read more about what marat wrote about and to desmoulins, if anything, he finds him funny and amusing.

many historical episodes documented by contemporaries show that camille was indeed characterised by sensitivity and emotionality - whether the episodes themselves were true or not.

stay tuned for the next 1.2 chapter, "the image of camille desmoulins in the context of conservative reaction and gender discourse"!

[technically-human]

How do you think Robotnik would react when he found out that Stone has a 301 IQ and one singular more than him?

I imagine Stone does something smart and Robotnik’s like “Huh. Maybe he isn’t as stupid as the rest is of those buffoons.” Then he pulls up Stone’s file, and is shocked and maybe a little begrudgingly impressed.

He spends the next few weeks laying out “tests” for Stone, which are either the most basic things or extremely convoluted like a mathematical equation for the Wifi password.

Meanwhile, Stone is just very confused by all these random tasks, but he’s having fun.

He's coping

Also lol the Wi-Fi equation, was that a reference to my fic?

ko-fi

And bonus horrified Rob because it made me laugh

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Charcuterie Board, as designed by your votes! Thank you to everyone who participated; this was a fun challenge!

[destiel-wings]

Dean Winchester & hug dynamic analysis

I was thinking about how whenever Dean hugs someone he's almost always the one hugging the other and how this links to his psychological trauma of always being the caretaker of people, making himself bigger to protect them.

Because that's how Dean sees himself, as a shield for others, and then I thought about how Cas actually is the shield, and he's HIS SHIELD, specifically, the only one who's really there to protect HIM, which is why it hits so much when we see this:

The way Cas wraps his arms around him, trying to protect him with his whole body--that he'd use as a shield and give up in a second if he could spare him from any pain and save him.

(for context: Dean was about to go use the soul bomb on Amara there, it was a suicide mission)

Bobby is another one that hits, he hugs him as the big hugger because he's his father, he loves him and he's actually here to protect him (and Dean LETS him -barely, but he lets him *and Cas* - in a way that he doesn't let Sam)

I watched a compilation of Sam & Dean hugs to check if i was right about it, but it's almost always Dean the big hugger with Sam, except when he's about to die or Sam sees him alive again after losing him.

Even then, Dean mostly tries to hug Sam as the big hugger anyway, with at least one arm, like a way to comfort him, making him feel protected, like his body language is saying "I'm here, I'm okay, I'm still strong, i can still protect you" (because their real father failed and Dean thinks it's his job).

He rarely lets himself be the little one hugged with Sam, unless he's barely conscious. Which is why it kills me so much more now that in this moment (s14, when Dean was going to lock himself in the Ma'lak box cause he was possessed by Michael) and Sam has a desperate breakdown and punches him (to stop him) he forcefully hugs him as the little hugger, the way Dean always kept him, like a way of saying "I still need you to protect me, please don't do this to yourself".

In the scene below he gives Sam his blessing to do a dangerous (possibly suicidal) mission, and one of his arms is down, but the other one tries to stay up--he's forcing himself to do it and he struggles because he still wants to protect him, but (as the seasons progress) he slowly becomes more prone to let go.

So in this view the hug dynamic becomes an indicator of how Dean sees Sam (and himself) and his protector role, how adult and self sufficient he considers Sam, and how much he lets people around him take care of him, lowering his walls and letting himself be hugged.

This is also why i think hugs from characters like Garth or Charlie are so special, because they're just like us: they see Dean and they just know that he needs to be hugged a lot, and that he's not used to it, so they just go for it-- and it's so normal and kind and spontaneous that Dean's just not used to it-- he doesn't know how to respond (especially with Garth, at the beginning, but as the seasons progress, he learns to, and he even initiates the hug eventually).

I love the hugs where they're 50/50 (one arm up, one arm down both), feels like they're equals, both taking care of each other. I feel like with Sam and Dean, this indicates a healthier dynamic, because Dean lets go a little of the role that was imposed to him and manages to see Sam as the strong individual that he is. But the same applies to 50/50 hugs with other characters, like with Cas, where I feel like it testifies how equals they feel in terms of being fighters, there's a show of respect of each other's strength that transpires by the gesture (which is even more astounding considering that Cas is literally a powerful angel).

And just to end on a destiel note, I'd like to note the possessiveness and protectiveness of Dean (rightfully so) whenever he finds Cas after he thought he had lost him, and how that translates into his body/hug language:

[crow-caller]

I really do think looking at bad writing is one of the best ways to learn about writing in general, especially for beginners.

the thing is, writing in general is highly subjective- a good sentence will be good in different ways to different people, or not impress someone at all.

a bad sentence? most people can spot bad sentences easy, especially if it is presented to them as 'here's an example of a bad sentence, let's unpack why.'

bad writing can also be very funny, which I think is again often more engaging than 'here's a work of literary genius go analyze it'. Like here's some bad writing from lightlark3:

The moment it was out of Horus’s grip, his body became bones. The flesh turned to ash. He became a corpse.

it's dumb as hell, but I think could foster a solid discussion when you ask 'why? what is the author intending to say? what about it makes it feel 'clunky'? How would you write the same idea?'

[ishgard]

"The most important thing is that you survive."

[ryan-sometimes]

Recently I’ve been getting anons and comments doubting the validity of some of the stories I tell on here. There’s nothing I can do to convince you that the stories I tell on here are completely genuine. All I can say is that they really are. I only post the wackiest, most interesting or funny stories of my life on here. You don’t get much of the boring day to day stuff.

Truth is, I come from a very long line of crazy people. When my dad was in med school he and some friends planted a small homemade bomb in an abandoned bathroom at their university. His roommate stole a pancreas from the corpse lab and put it in a girl’s backpack. The entire med school was suspended because no one owned up to it. My uncle would sneak out at night with my grandma’s car and she’d find out because she’d check the mileage and see it’d gone up, so my uncle started driving her car backwards since that didn’t increase the mileage. He got arrested driving her car backwards on the highway to another town. My uncle would steal my grandpa’s shotgun, tell his friends to jump in the pool, and start firing it randomly at the backyard. My cousin genuinely had two weed smoking girlfriends who were also girlfriends with each other. My great uncle had an affair exposed by having his intimate photos and videos with his mistress sent to the family groupchat by people who stole his phone, all because they were salty that my aunt told them to go fuck themselves when they messaged her asking for money. My aunt took out all her life savings and moved to another state to build a bunker because she believes the apocalypse is coming, and she didn’t even take any of her children. I don’t know how to tell you this, but life is just stranger than fiction sometimes. The sample size of life stories you get on my blog are just the instances in which that’s true.