#can you tell that I don't know my own personal tag?

[always-just-red]

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.   

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!�� You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

[bibuckkinard]

Reprieve

Hi again, it's me, I'm the problem, it's me. I really didn't intend to write anything tonight, but I have too many words in my head. This is another fic, this time super short and sweet, for @bucktommypositivityweek round two, day 4: supportive boyfriends. I hope you guys like it!

bucktommy - Words: 554 - Rating: T - Complete

Tommy thinks Evan looks hot like this, sweaty, hands taped and punching the pads Tommy's got attached to his hands as Evan hits right, left, right, left and rants. Too bad this rant is about a man who made Tommy's days at the 118 his most miserable days in the closet. "I don't know how much more I can handle," Evan pants out with one more hit before putting his hands on his hips and folding in on himself at the waist. “What was it today?” Tommy asks, not sure if he wants to know. Evan is silent for a moment then he stands to his full height and says, “He asked me if faeries like to fly on the top or the bottom.” Tommy thinks about that one. He knows what Gerrard is going for but- “That doesn’t even make sense.” Evan throws his hands up in frustration. “I know! Like, if you’re going to be homophobic, at least make it good!” “He’s probably running out of ideas at this point.” Evan blows out a breath. “I know you said you wanted to avoid telling me what to do here, but I’m going crazy.” Tommy moves forward to wrap his arms around Evan’s waist, pulling him in. Evan wraps his arms around him in turn and practically sags against Tommy, so much so that Tommy’s more or less holding him up. “I have avoided giving you advice about this because I’m just not sure I’m the right person to do it,” Tommy admits. “I dealt with him by staying closeted and being an asshole.” “You did that to survive,” Evan points out, not for the first time. “I know but I still don’t feel great about it.” “I know,” Evan says. “If you could do it differently, what would you do?” “What you’re already doing,” Tommy says instantly, then motions to Evan’s curly hair, which he stopped using straighteners on three days after Gerrard started. They’re adorable and currently ruffled from the practice but Tommy freaking loves running his fingers through them at any given time. “He hates those right?” Evan grins. “Oh yeah. But it’s still within regulations so he can’t do anything about it. So what, keep changing my appearance? Should I grow a mustache like Eddie?” They both say, at the same time, “Nah.” Tommy laughs a little. “No. I am saying you could just annoy the shit out of him. You could go at him with a clipboard? Find all the regulations he’s missed because there have to be like a hundred by now.” “He’s a hypocrite,” Evan says and Tommy shrugs, because yeah. Gerrard always picked and chose what to follow and what to ignore based on what suited him. “But yeah, that’s an idea. Weaponize my powers for evil. Excellent. Thank you. I know you haven’t wanted to tell me what to do about this, but you’ve been a godsend for just, like, keeping me from killing him.” “Can’t hold you like this if you’re in prison,” Tommy points out, hearing the fondness in his own voice. “True.” Tommy smiles and kisses his cheek. “Do you want to keep going? We haven’t eaten anything for dinner yet.” Evan gives him a squeeze. “Make out in the shower first?” Evan, naked and wet in the shower? “You’re on.”

tag list: @desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @tommy-kinard-buckley,

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin, @theotherbuckley

[flowersforbucky]

logan howlett x reader

a late night thunderstorm and some questions about what never was and what could be.

a/n: i don't even know what came over me, i just needed to jot this down and get it out of my system. i'm so fond of the "reader being in love with original logan and then meeting worst logan" trope. may or may not expand on this soon!

warnings/tags: not explicit but mdni, tension and longing, minor angst, no use of y/n, 750 words

“How well did you know him, exactly?”

You knew the question would come. Truthfully, you're surprised he hasn't asked already. And yet, you're still not prepared to answer.

You pour yourself another glass of wine, hoping for an ounce of liquid confidence to get you through this conversation.

The oven timer begins to beep, nearly inaudible over the roar of the wind and rain that beats down against your windows. He watches you from his seat across the kitchen island. Not in a way that makes you feel pressured to respond - there's patience and understanding in the way he looks at you in the dim lightning of your small kitchen.

Well enough to know he deserved more than this life ever gave him.

You think these words, but keep your mouth shut, pursing your lips. Instead, you turn to the oven behind you and quiet the incessant beeping before sliding your hand into an oven mitt and pulling out the roast chicken and vegetables that you had thrown together.

“You don't have to answer that,” Logan says into the thick silence. “I'm sorry. Let's talk about someth–”

“No, it's okay,” you stop him, bracing yourself on the edge of the counter. You're still turned away from him, but you can feel his stare on your backside. You reach up to a cabinet above you, pulling out two plates before turning back to face him.

“I want to talk about him. Really, I do. It's just been a long time since I have.”

He watches as you divide up the food and slide a full plate across the island to him. You can't help but feel a sense of deja vu - you've cooked for this face before. You've served these crinkled hazel eyes this exact meal before, what feels like a lifetime ago.

But for the person sitting before you, this is a first.

“We were close,” you finally continue after clearing your throat, your voice rising an octave on the word close. “Close enough for me to miss him very much.”

You don’t elaborate any further. You don’t tell him of all the almosts and what ifs that run through your mind at the mere mention of his name.

“Is it difficult for you?” he asks in a hesitant voice. “To look at me and see him? To be near me?”

You don’t answer right away. You grab your plate of food and walk around to the other side of the counter, to join him where he sits. You pull out the barstool next to him and sit so that your body is angled towards him. He puts his fork down, giving you his full attention.

The air in the room suddenly feels heavy. You’re close enough that his leg brushes against the side of yours and a shiver runs down your spine.

“Yes,” you admit in a whisper. “It is difficult. But at the same time, I can’t help but want it.”

You can’t quite bring yourself to say you.

“I felt guilty for it at first,” you continue. He watches you with more understanding than you feel you deserve. “For wanting to be around you, to get to know you,” you clarify. “It felt like I was just looking for him in you, and that wasn’t fair to you.”

He extends a hand to where your own rests on your knee. He covers yours with his and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Your eyes flutter closed at the warmth and familiarity and you selfishly hope that he doesn’t pull away.

“But then I got to know you, and I learned all of the ways that the two of you are similar, but more importantly, I learned all of the ways that you're different. And the differences didn't matter to me. I still wanted to be around you just as much. Even more.”

You take your free hand and place it on top of his. You stare down at where your hands are stacked together, tracing a thick vein from his knuckle to his wrist with the tip of your finger.

“I never told Logan how I felt about him. He and I.. missed our chance to be anything more than what we were. I don't want to make that mistake again.”

He brings his other hand to your face, cupping your jawline in his palm. You can't help but melt into the touch. He tilts your face up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You don't have to.”

•••

thanks for reading 💕💕

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[triangle-dog]

TW pet death

(Not one of mine, don't worry. You won't miss anything if you skip this post.)

I will always and forever be a collar and tags person (or, look, if you are really concerned about strangulation then a harness & tags person or a breakaway collar or whatever). Microchips are great, all my beasts are microchiped, but if one of them gets out I want to be able to find them and bring them home no matter what has happened to them.

Two years ago, almost exactly I think, friends and I were three miles into a beautiful autumn hike with the dogs. The leaves were turning, the wildlife was active, and there was a crisp breeze. We rounded a corner and immediately saw a body floating out on the lake, a dog, its long black fur drifting back and forth in the small waves. After some deliberation on what to do, and if it was safe, I waded out to the dog while the others in the party held our dogs way back from the lake in case the water was bad. He wasn't that far out really, but it felt like it took forever to get there because I was fervently hoping he'd have tags. I could actually feel the relief wash over me when I got there and saw patches of blue collar peeking out between the drifting fur.

I towed him into the shallows by the collar. I'm the most familiar with bodies, which is why I was the one who went out to him, and I know that they age differently in the water but by my judgment he'd died farily recently - less than a day ago. When he's in close enough to shore that I don't think he'll drift away any time soon, I unclip his collar and return to the group. We sit down and strategize for a few minutes. How do you make a call like that without raising their hopes? (Answer: you can't - just the phone ringing will be enough).

"I'm very sorry," I say, "but I found a dog in the lake and I thought you would want to know." She tells me she was half expecting a call like this, that the gate didn't latch correctly and both dogs got out but only one came home. She tells me that they were so worried he wouldn't be able to find his way home in the storm last night. She tells me he was very old, that his mind had been going for awhile now. She tells me that most of his life, until the last few years as his body became less able to manage the walk, they would come down to a beach near here and that he loved to swim. She tells me she hopes he at least got to relive those memories for a bit before he went.

I give her the coordinates, it's not too far from a road if you bushwhack - certainly less than the 3mi we did, and tell her we'll bring him to shore. I pick him up out of the shallows, he feels frail, yet he's so so heavy from the weight of the water in his fur. He's much smaller than Nova, yet lifting Nova has never felt like that. I lay him gently on the rocky beach in what I hope is a natural looking, less-traumatizing-to-the-kids position. I clip his collar back on, with the fur no longer drifting around in the water obscuring it, you can now see the little tag saying "Poochie" on the front. We head back the way we came. That was walk enough for all of us, it would feel wrong to seek a different ending, and it was an out and back trail anyway.

Ever since then, every dead cat or dog I see reminds me of those lakeside discussions. We are all overly dedicated animal people, we're fully aware of microchips and all of our own pets are microchiped, but carrying a waterlogged body 3mi to the car to drive it to the vet's office was just not feasible - I don't think it would occur to most people that that was even an option. Even if they did think of it, most people would be opposed to putting a dead animal in their vehicle. I'm just gonna make it easy on people and put my phone number on my animals.

(Sorry, that post was so much longer than it needed to be, but my brain must have recorded that experience in a different kind of memory than usual because it is so so clear and comes all as a set like that so that's what you got too)

TLDR: OP found a dead dog once and has big feelings about it. Put collars/etc. on your pets

[cdroloisms]

a little ramble about dreblr, meta, and the ever evolving nature of this fandom, i guess?

i don't mean to soapbox, this is mostly just going to be vomiting some thoughts into a post. some recent stuff and a post or two have had me thinking about this fandom and how different it is from when dsmp was ongoing. it's,, pretty obvious that the fandom is quite a bit smaller and less active than that time, and there are generally a lot fewer people actively posting meta and such every day--which isn't necessarily a bad thing, and is natural obviously considering that the dsmp ended almost 2 years ago, but does mean that the culture around (?) meta and such has shifted, as well. it's one of those things too i think that is felt so much more obviously in dreblr, which is an even smaller group within this fandom that formed in response to uhhh being very much considered unwelcome by the greater fandom at the time.

that being said, as is the nature of all fandom, dreblr is still a community of people who are largely strangers who have gathered together because of one commonality: very strong feelings and often very strong opinions on the dream smp and c!dream. and i think when the fandom was more active, the entire fandom felt a lot more like a "pvp enabled" zone, lmao -- it was every other day when there'd be some new batshit meta about c!dream or some stream to react to and analyze and fight people about and whatever. since then, though, with the dsmp gone, the fandom has become quieter -- which i think has allowed some of the variation in opinions within dreblr become more and more obvious? and also become a sort of source of friction.

again, this is normal for any fandom. i'm certainly not here to agree with everyone about c!dream always, lmao. but the vagueing of takes is always more awkward on both sides when it's someone where you share more of the same circles. at the end of the day, it's up to each individual blogger's discretion to choose what they will or won't post on their own blog, but at the same time ... when it comes to the community, just speaking for myself, i don't want a super high barrier of entry when it comes to people feeling like they can't join this fandom unless they've got [xyz] experience or [xyz] takes.

when it comes to actual analysis of the source material, though, keeping meta a safe place for people to say "no, i don't agree with this take because of [xyz]" is important as well, which always raises the question of how said disagreements should be handled. and again, i'm no authority, i'm not here to tell people what to do. personally, when it comes to my own blog, i don't like to post very much directly about any one blogger, but I know I've definitely written posts inspired by specific takes before as well as screenshots of takes from the fandom's heyday, etc. i don't necessarily feel uncomfortable with this ...? but at the same time, i know that vagueposts can be a source of discomfort, especially if they're about your take in particular (speaking from experience) -- so it's you know. not the easiest line to draw, I guess, especially when we're talking about a community where different people are going to have different levels of comfort with what they post on their own blogs and what other blogs do in response to their takes. and whatever.

vagueposting, i think, has been common in the tumblr dsmp fandom for a long time, and especially in dreblr -- direct engagement in the past errr usually went badly, so a habit formed of keeping everything we did kind of within our own spaces (hence why many of us don't even tag c!dream or even dreblr on most of our posts; keeping everything untagged, or keeping the tagging system restricted to our own blogs, limited the possibility of trouble). that being said, vagueing within dreblr has become more common, i think, as disagreements within dreblr have become more and more obvious in the time since the dsmp ended. (just for the obvious example: i think it's a bit of an open secret that i, personally, strongly disagree with much of the common depictions of c!drunz in this fandom. i've written some meta about this before, as well as some responses to meta--which i enjoyed greatly, believe me--but i've also noticed (perhaps coincidence) an uptick in c!drunz positive meta every time i or someone else makes a post that maybe skews more negative. which is normal, don't get me wrong, but also a pattern i've noticed. i'm also very aware that someone the arguments i may bring up as counterarguments or structure my posts around arguing against are based on actual arguments i've seen while in this space, which i'm aware is an easy source of friction within dreblr.) and it's easy to say "don't take it personally when it's just metaanalysis," but that's easier said than done, lmao, especially depending on the tone of the vaguepost and a myriad of other factors.

i'm not saying that i have the answers. or, for that matter, a single answer. the boundaries i set aren't going to be the same as the boundaries other people set, for one, and i have no desire to police what other people do on their own blogs. i do miss, sometimes, the more collaborative and discussion-based meta experience of this fandom when it was more active--i might try to more actively reblog posts (including those i don't necessarily agree with) to discuss this server and these characters, bc at the end of the day that is kind of why we're here. personally, i've always drawn a pretty sharp distinction between fanwork and analysis -- i think it's pretty bad form to criticize people's AUs In General (not that i've not. been guilty of it in the past, but i try at least to keep it to criticizing more general patterns within fanwork; look, i'm not going to claim a moral high ground, i love bitching way too much and should probably get a handle on that but asj;lkfdsaf) but when we're talking meta about the source material, barring shit like. you know, harassment and otherwise abusive behavior, i do consider it more of a free-for-all. at the same time, i know that these standards can lead to newer fans feeling like they're going to be booed out the door for sharing their thoughts, which, i mean, isn't great 😭😭😭 fresh eyes can bring a lot of really cool new insights, and it'd suck pretty damn bad to miss that because they don't feel welcome, yknow?

anyway, this is a very inconclusive post, but i thought i'd just throw some of my thoughts out as someone who has been here for a decently long time. and if you want to discuss w/ me, inbox and dms are always open :)

[unhinged-waterlilly]

Hello!

Something about @/demigod-jack-hearth

Something I wanna say about this post (with my reblog on it). I wanna give a side of a story. Mine to be exact.

They were one of the first people I talked to outside of rp. They were a close friend. But that fades.

I DONT WANT THEM TAGGED IN THIS I DONT WANT THEM TO KNOW ABOUT THIS. I HAVE THEM BLOCKED. IF THEY LEARN ABOUT THIS, IT IS BECAUSE SOMEONE SEND THIS TO THEM.

Tw: sa, strong language, I'm a little bitch, please please please read at your own risk

When start this by saying Jack worries me. I've seen so many post, rp or otherwise, where they bring up extremely triggering comments...just randomly. This has happened to me too. I don't get bothered by them I've been lucky enough to not deal with most and be comfortable with what I have dealt with. I think he needs professional help. Or to talk to someone that is an adult. This is difficult for some people. But there are free therapy websites out there. I have seen them. I have participated in them. The people on the other line aren't professionals but they are people willing to listen. And adults.

It started with when I saw an rp they had with camp Sky. I can't give screenshots of that but I do have some of confronting them.

Now all good right? Yeah! I thought so too. Untill an anon confronts em.

Posts here and here

Oh...kay? What's wrong about this?

Yeah...

Actively calling out anon

Now mind me I thought they had buried this au deep deep into the ground. Wasn't until I opened Circe's blog that I realised they didn't. I was pissed. I had every reason to be. We have so few stories of male victims as it is and this 'au' was blatantly disrespectful to victims of all genders. I felt really fucking disrespected that's for sure.

Unfortunately I don't confront them. But I do vent.

Now I feel bad for this. Maybe this was dirty laundry I shouldn't have aired out. But I was just so angry I couldn't think properly. I didn't mention Jack in this post, but friends figured it out. I won't say who these friends are for obvious reasons. Also, this is a bit wrong. They thought Odysseus cheated with only Circe, and Calyspo was SA. I got that wrong, and I admit it. I only remembered that when I scrolled up our dm to take a screenshot of it.

Now I wanted to leave that convo because I wasn't in the mood for arguing, and I've learned to give people what they want, which makes em and yourself stop. My fault again.

Things happen. It leads to the apology. Now, obviously, I can't tell if an apology is genuine through a screen, and I am most certainly a pessimist. So, like, I don't think it is. Also, I'm almost certain that most was written by whoever the friend was who 'helped' em.

Sure, people can change, but not enough times do they actually. Just look on the Internet. And real life. A person like Jack, well, they've talked to me enough to know it is most likely not the case. If they were so angry at a piece of good criticism, then I don't have much hope.

Am I an angry person ? Yes. Do I think I have the right to be? Yes. Am I also a logical person? I believe so. The people I've asked think so, too. I don't dislike something for no reason. But I do dislike things. What I do like is reasons for my dislikes. With me so far?

Good. Moving on.

After the apology and after I finally got my thoughts in order, I sent them a message because they tagged me. A lot.

This is what I sent. It's emotional, but in my opinion, it also makes sense. I was mad they lied to me. I was mad they twisted the story so. Fucking. Much. Odysseus isn't a rapist and Circe isn't an innocent flower. That is not what an AU is. What was their reaction to this? Nothing. To me at least.

A mutual friend told me they sent the last half of my messages and told them that they were angry I. Didn't. Thank. Them. For. The. Apology. Take that for what you will.

Now they made another post replying to the first anon who criticized them. I've read it. And when I tell you it is so fulled with self-pity-

I haven't collected my thoughts properly about this so this is bad and more emotion than the above. but this is the basic things behind it.

1) never directly addressing what he did and constantly tell em to read the apology. Don't wanna repeat yourself. How much time is it gonna take out of your day exactly?

2) not acknowledging the fact the male sa victim. At all. They don't say anything about it. No 'my condolences'. No 'I'm so sorry that happened to you' . Not acknowledging how terrible of a thing that is. At all.

3)says they aren't gonna defend themself... and defend themselves

4) have yet to tell us who these people are. Which is just bad cuz there are people out there who are okay with this. If they were IRL friends just say that.

5) it felt just fucking dull

Maybe this isn't right. Maybe you disagree with these points. But do not tell me you disagree with the rest.

I wanna end this by saying I am victim of SA. Did I tell him this? No. Maybe I should've. I don't feel comfortable sharing it. Because remembring fucking hurts. Remembering means crying and opening the lights and either sitting or laying down on my back because I can still. Fucking. Feel. It. And I was nine.

I don't want your pity on this. I don't want you to say sorry. The people you should be saying sorry to are the people who are not believed when this happens. Feel sorry for the people who cannot report this stuff because they don't trust the people who are supposed to protect them. Feel sorry for the people who think it was their fault and they actually wanted it when they didn't. 63% of rape are not reported in females. Only 12% of child rapes are reported.

I can't find a clear fucking statistics on males.

Do you know how difficult it is for males to have any representation at all? How many male victims do you see online? Even Odysseus being regonized as one is recent. Fucking. Stop. This is more than a made up story. It means the world to some people. So this actually happen. It might mean everything. This was taken away from them from so many retellings. And a stupid fucking au.

If you want to talk about SA, wanna make a character out of it, learn about it first.

So I'm not going to forgive and I am definitely not going to forget. You can. If you want. I don't care if you do. But I ask you not to forget. Please.

I am tagging Jack's taglist

@zariahthewitch @thegroovydaughterofhestia @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite @fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son @bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @hispanic-child-of-hermes @gaygirldoodles @luck-is-crucial @reyna4ever @vicious-daughter-of-zeus @feral-hermes-child @oopsies-i-did-a-thing @unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia @that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @love-lightning-forethought @emdabitchass @kaiaalwayswins @champion-of-revenge @zoe-aura-of-d3ath @itsyourboyezra @lunar-eklipso-r @pink-koi-lovejoy @that-daughter-of-athena @sleepy-as-a-song @smileyalater @gellyhelio @daughter-ofthe-moontitan @demeters-daughter-is-done @the-smart-and-the-dumb-one @trinket-snatcher @creature-under-ur-bed @burnt-out-bitxhes @cloak-of-ares @heraaaaaaaa @unproblematic-hestia @i-was-never-sane

[bumblingbabooshka]

My name is [BRUTUS] and my name means [HEAVY] so with a [HEAVY] heart I'll guide this dagger Into the heart of my enemy

Something about having absolutely no choice in who you marry. About being literally forced by the law to spill blood - to accept this stranger as your husband over a man you truly care for or accept the fact that the man you love might die because you put him in danger. Something about risking becoming the wife of a man you've never even seen before a few minutes prior because you know anything would be better than putting your beloved in harm's way. Something about the trust inherent in that decision and in the way she speaks of it after. Truthfully, T'Pring doesn't know the captain and she doesn't know Spock. Either one of them could have taken her as their wife but she does know Stonn. She knows that Stonn will remain by her side no matter what. They made a plan together. They have an agreement which T'Pring believes will be upheld even though the plan changed with the arrival of Kirk. Stonn will always be there, always, and Stonn will be hers. Something about the language used around T'Pring: Ownership, subservience, non-personhood. T'Pring is an object that Spock can win. She cannot reject him, she has no say in the matter other than having Stonn 'claim' her instead. Even when Spock leaves after being very clearly rejected by T'Pring he says "Stonn, she is yours." as if despite her clear rejection he still owns her and is must formally 'give' her to Stonn. But the language T'Pring uses around Stonn is a break from that: "There was Stonn who wanted very much to be my consort, and I wanted him." Stonn who wanted very much to be HER consort and she WANTED him. The language here is very particular - It's not, for example: "Stonn wanted me to be his wife" - he is HERS. And she WANTS him. There's a mutual affection there and a strong trust - a trust which seems to be well founded since Stonn (though silent) stands by her side at the end of the episode. <- That might seem small but if Spock would reject her for 'daring to challenge' (again, the language is not 'because I don't want you' but more of an implied disgust at her having the AUDACITY to reject him) then it's not a stretch to assume that it'd be considered an insult in the TOS Vulcan society to NOT choose Stonn as her champion after a prior agreement. Anyway T'Pring was a woman in an impossible situation within a society which saw her as more of an object than a person and she wanted Stonn and Stonn wanted to be hers and she trusted that he would understand if she had to publicly pick someone else to ensure his life would be spared and he did understand.

[not-poignant]

Every now and then I just get the kind of comment that makes me stop working on a fic and just has me going 'how about you write it since you're so concerned with correcting me on this one tiny thing that doesn't matter because it's fanfiction actually'

And like, I do want to work on this fic, but damn, not today.

[a-s-levynn]

"Even if the sky cracks in mourning / And the heavens just won't open up for me" A Series of Small Offerings - II/12 - day20

[arttsuka]

.

[averlym]

whshdfhfjf.,,,

[mar64ds]

i think the way sans wholeheartedly supports papyrus through everything is really sweet but also very interesting for both of the characters, because i don't think sans is trying to humor him or is 'afraid to hurt his feelings' like many might think, i think sans fully trusts papyrus's own decisions and if he's ever wrong he can figure it out himself and grow from it, if anything sans really respects papyrus's choices, he doesn't think papyrus is making a bad decision by trying to be a royal guard, his brother knows himself best. papyrus also... doesn't have that much support from anyone else, sans is his only family and he barely has friends at all, i think for sans it's more important that papyrus feels supported than anything else, like i said, if papyrus is wrong about something? that's alright, he'll be okay, he'll learn from the experience, and his brother will be there for him. but for this situation, it's more important for papyrus that his brother believes in him when nobody else does than being told he's being 'naive'

[thebongcloudopening]

not to be serious on main but if there's one thing I learned that I want to pass along to other trans people it's that closeting yourself to appease others doesn't work. I girlmode all the time and yet it's still not, and will never be, enough for people. You wear girly clothes, they wonder why you don't wear makeup. You wear makeup, they wonder why you don't shave your legs. You shave your legs they ask why you haven't just done laser hair removal. No matter how much you pretend for them there will always be something else they deem different.

[emile-hides]

Can I interest you all in my extremely self serving Mario and Luigi game concept featuring Gooigi and Metal Mario as alternate reality Mario Bros?

I’ve been calling it Mario and Luigi: Elementals and it sounds dumb and that’s because it is dumb

The basic premise is E. Gadd didn’t actually make Gooigi, rather Gooigi is from a Universe where everyone is made of one pure element, and Gooigi ended up in our reality on accident.

Kind of

He splatted through a portal and was pretty much all but dead or “broken” as his universe would put it, but E. Gadd of our world manged to “fix” him, bringing him back. The problem is he lost all his memories, and also can’t speak.

That was a year ago today.

The Mario Brothers are visiting Professor Elvin Gadd in his research laboratory to see his latest invention, and also learn that Stuffwell has become Gooigi’s right hand man, and can even understand his blurbly speech. 

E. Gadd’s been fascinated with the portal Gooigi origonally came through for some time now, and has finally made a device that will (hopefully) open it once again. Mayhaps he can get more goo, make more Gooigis! How exciting!

If only the blasted thing worked

His device doesn’t turn on, or work at all, so he sends Mario and Luigi around the lab to fix multiple things; jumping, using the Spin/High jump moves, Mario drinks and spits water, the usual stuff all gets tutorialed at once this way until he’s finally ready to try again.

This time a massive portal opens, sucking in everything in the lab, mostly Luigi who was right next to it. Mario grabs Luigi, E. Gadd grabs Mario, Gooigi grabs E. Gadd, and Stuffwell complains about his unfinished Arm Modificationings

Mario’s grip slips, and Luigi goes flying into the portal, which then closes.

Luigi wakes up in a forest where everything is made of Rock. The Trees, the Ground, the over sized Mushroom kingdom looking mushrooms, all pure rock. Like sculptures. He looks around, calls for Mario a few times, cowars a bit, and then starts to wander, eventually coming across another research lab like E. Gadd’s

Inside is Professor Ectoplasm Gadd, a gooy translucent, almost ghostly like version of Professor E. Gadd, along with Rock Toads; Toads made purely or unpolished, rough rocks.

Ecto Gadd looks up from his machine that is very much like E. Gadd’s portal machine, and immediately starts making a ruckus about Luigi’s Return. He sends the Rock Toads off to “Go get his brother!” and starts marveling at Luigi’s new unique make-up, asking what he’s made of now, and apologizing for the accident.

Luigi Italianese babbles that he has no idea what Ecto Gadd is talking about and starts explaining the portal, when the door breaks down.

“Goodness! I know you haven’t seen eachother for a year now but you didn’t have to break my door!”

Metal Mario puts the door down to the side gently and approaches Luigi, looks him all over, takes a few steps back, and then punches a random machine, destroying it.

It takes a few moments for the shock to were off and for Luigi to notice Metal Mario is really broken up over his missing brother. Luigi does his best to comfort him, a little There There back pat turned into a spine crushing hug from Metal Mario.

Ecto Gadd realizes this is the Wrong Luigi and explains the portal machine, and how he’d been working on it ever sense Goo Luigi went missing. Luigi recognizes “Goo Luigi” as probably being Gooigi, which Metal Mario responds to by grabbing Luigi by his overall straps, picking him off the ground, and shaking him in a “You know where me brother is???? Where??? Take me to him!!!” kind of way.

Ecto Gadd says he can get the portal open again, but he needs more power for his machine to work and stabilize the portal, so he sends Luigi and Metal Mario off to the Plasma Kingdom together.

This is where gameplay starts and also my story concept kind of ends, so this is just all my thoughts mashed together now

You play as two sets of Bros through most the game (this first mission has them mixed up, but eventually swaps them back correctly); Mario and Luigi, and Gooigi and Metal Mario.

Mario plays the same as usual Mario games, High Attack and Speed, Low Defense and Health, if you don’t watch him he’ll become a Glass Canon

Luigi also plays the same, High Defense and Health, Low Attack and Speed, a random extra bit of Stache, might fall behind Mario if you’re not careful

Metal Mario plays sort of like an Extreme Luigi, with wild high defense and stupid slow, but he also hits like a truck with a crazy attack stat. He’ll go after everything else, but he will also likely kill it all in one hit. Also his and Gooigi’s Stache stat is called Sheen and might cause enemies to miss, rather than they randomly get lucky hits. They’re shiny.

Gooigi in turn is like an Extreme Mario, Wicked speed and abysmal defense, but with no attack to back it up. Instead, almost all of Gooigi’s basic attacks inflict status; Poison, Sleep, and Stuck (a Gooigi exclusive status in which the enemy is stuck in goo and can’t move), making him more of a set up for Metal Mario than his own attacker.

You switch between the two groups on set story beats as they traverse eachother’s worlds; Our usual Bros in the new Element lands, and the Element Bros in the usual Mushroom Kingdom worlds. Think like Bowser’s Inside Story meets the Peach sections of the Paper Mario games.

Mario and Luigi can do their usual jumps, the spin and high jumps, they cannot be separated, and eventually get the elemental Fire and Thunder attacks from Super Star Saga, and the Bros Ball from Partner’s in Time. These are also their Bros Attacks. No more shell or fire flower or weird surprise tube I hate those things.

Metal Mario and Gooigi get the hammer abilities, Metal Mario can smash Gooigi over the head to make him small and fit into small spaces and Metal Mario can drill into the ground to get beans. The two can be separated, usually when Metal Mario explores the ocean floor, as Gooigi dissolves in water and Metal Mario sinks.

I can’t decide what Metal Mario and Gooigi’s bros attacks will be. The main thing with them is they’ve been separated for a full year, and Gooigi’s memories are still missing, so they’re not as in-sync as the normal Bros are. Maybe they can have Bros Items from Partner’s in Time?

They’re a lot like the babies from Partner’s in Time I think, more immature and juvenile in my head. Metal Mario constantly forgets his own strength and breaks things on accident, and Gooigi is eager to help anyone who’ll give him a task. They’re both childishly curious about the world around them.

The twist would be someone sent Gooigi through that portal on purpose to get rid of him. I’m thinking a version of King Boo from this Elemental Dimension, but I haven’t thought on it too hard just yet. Maybe Ecto Gadd did it. That’d be fun.

Rose Gold Peach is there and she’s called Rose Gold Peach not Pink Gold Peach I hate that name she is Rose Gold and she’s a lot like Metal Mario in that she forgets her own strength a lot and ends up hurting regular Mario in funny slapstick ways just by interacting with him a lot.

The previously mentioned Plasma Kingdom is the Element Lands version of the Koopa Kingdom. I’ve been trying to decide if I want Bowser to be just pure Fire or not. Magma Bowser maybe? Where some of his upper layer has cooled so he looks like Bowser’s Fury Bowser in color scheme? The Goombas are wooden because I think that’s funny.

I also think the Elemental Bowser and Mario have a much more extreme rivalry compared to our usual duo. Where Mario and Bowser can square off every here and there and then also play tennis, the Elemental Mario and Bowser will fight to the death if squared off together. This Bowser also doesn’t have the Romantic Feelings for Peach to soften him, he wants her just as dead as he wants Mario.

His only soft spot then would be Bowser Jr., who I don’t know if he should be included because it feels like too many main story characters, but he’d be made of paint, and be gooy and fragile like Gooigi, this why Bowser, a Magma/Rock being, is so protective of his soft son.

Finally, I want Wario and Waluigi to be a sort of Rival Encounter to Metal Mario and Gooigi, Like Mid bosses that show up every other big event a little stronger than previously, sense they’re extreme versions Mario and Luigi, much like this version of Gooigi and Metal Mario are.

[dangoulains-devotion]

yuffie has many interesting elements to her but people refuse to move past "i find energetic kids annoying" and it makes me sad

[imagine-nerd]

The fucking disconnect is so real.