#i have problems and i will acknowledge them

[ellecdc]

grovelling under an old oak tree

prompt from @redeyesthicthighs: I have been thinking about our girl Vix & craving some good ol’ hurt/comfort with a touch of groveling from one of the boys... I feel like we tend to see Sirius or James be the ones to step wrong and then have to fix it but… I know we are all obsessed with Remus and he truly is an angel (I KNOW! YOU KNOW I KNOW!) but how do you think he would grovel?

poly!marauders x vixen!reader who Remus needs to apologize to [1.3k words]

CW: fem!reader, Remus yelled at her/told her off off screen, Remus-centric, begging for forgiveness, hurt/comfort and fluff

“Sirius, I think you ought to at least pretend to be a little less happy about how upset your girlfriend is right now.” Remus scolded instead of acknowledging the fact that he was currently in the wrong.

Sirius simply snorted at him. “Of course I’m not happy about my girlfriend being upset, Moony. I’m just thoroughly enjoying the fact that it’s not my fault.”

”It doesn’t hurt that Moony was the arse this time.” James added rather unhelpfully. 

“I wasn’t an-” Remus started as he stood straighter, cutting himself off and taking a steadying breath. He really was sort of an arse. It was the day after a full, Remus was feeling particularly sorry for himself - his hip seemingly giving him more problems today than it had in months - and you had been your normal, vibrant, effervescent self. 

The way Remus spoke to you probably had you thinking that was a crime worthy of Azkaban. 

You’d taken off - of course you had - because who would want to stick around to be spoken to like that?

It probably hadn’t helped matters that the other two boys were so thoroughly shocked by Remus’ outburst that neither of them thought to say anything to you, and Remus himself was too simultaneously proud and full of self loathing to retract his earlier sentiments.

The last thing any of them had seen from their dormitory window was a small red fox bolting into the forest. 

“I was an arse.” Remus admitted in defeat.

”Fuck yeah you were!” Sirius cheered, earning him a high-five from James as though the two of them had been watching a quidditch match and not Remus simply pull on a jacket, hat, and scarf to go out in search of you. 

“I need you to enjoy this a little less, please.” Remus sighed.

”No can do, Moonbeam; I’ll be riding this high all week. Can you imagine!? I wonder what it would be like to have Remus grovelling at our feet, eh Jamie?”

“Fuck off. The difference between the two of you and Vix is that you’d actually… deserve it...” He joked, though the atmosphere immediately fell flat when he remembered that he had, indeed, been an arse to you. And what’s more, you didn’t deserve it in the least. 

“Fuck; I was an arse.” Remus reiterated.

”Do you want us to help, Rem?” James finally asked, clearly taking pity on Remus who, in his defence, was not at all used to being in the dog house. 

“No… no. I- I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” Remus decided; whether he was convincing himself or his boyfriend’s, he wasn’t sure as he ventured out of his dormitory in search of his girlfriend. 

…

He supposed that, all things considered, he should be thankful for the mixture of rain and snow that was currently falling from the sky. If nothing else, it served to leave a definitive trail of paw prints in the soft ground leading Remus to where you’d gone and hidden.

From him.

You were hiding from him.  

Fuck, he was an arse. 

There was a small hole in the earth under a tangle of roots beneath a grand old oak where your paw prints came to a decided halt. 

“Dovey?” He tried carefully; he heard an exhale and a shuffle. “Sweetheart? I’m sorry…” 

He received no response. 

Remus didn’t think he was in a position to ask anything of you; not to hear him out, not to come out and talk to him, not even to come back inside so he’d - at the very least - sleep knowing you were indoors and warm. 

So, screaming hip be damned, he lowered himself to the ground, the layers he was wearing doing nothing to protect him from the biting cold of the muddy ground as it seeped into his front. 

He wondered for a moment if he should feel embarrassed should a passerby notice a student prostrate beneath the trunk of an old oak tree, but he decided pleading for your forgiveness outweighed any potential embarrassment. 

“Vix, I’m sorry, love.” He pressed earnestly; a small white muzzle appearing near the entrance of your burrow. “I didn’t mean it.” 

You let out a huff and moved to turn your face back away from him. Yes you did, you seemed to argue.

”I didn’t, sweetheart. But I shouldn’t have said it, and that doesn’t excuse that I still did.” 

You kept your face turned away from him. 

“Dovey, I-” Remus paused and bit in a breath, using his elbows to pull him that much closer to your burrow and streak that much more mud up his front. “Pads and Prongs…they saved me. But…but you- you brought light back into my life, and you manage to do that even on my darkest days.” 

He waited a few beats before he continued. “Even when I don’t deserve it.”

One of your back legs twitched as though you were itching to move but actively fought against it. 

“Even when it’s the pain that’s talking, and not me. Even when I know it’s the pain talking for me and I let it anyway. Even when all I want to do is sit and wallow and feel sorry for myself you-” He felt embarrassingly close to tears. “You never fail to share what little light you might have to offer; to me, to Sirius and James, to everyone around you. It’s one of the things I love most about you, and I berated you for it.” 

More silence.

”I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t push. He simply laid on his stomach beneath an old oak tree in the Forbidden Forest under the light of the waning moon as he watched your fur fall and rise in time with your breathing whilst you refused to look at him. The only movement other than the infinitesimal twitching of your legs and ears. 

“Okay, that’s alright.” He sighed after an unknown stretch of time, turning his head to rest his cheek against his folded arms. “I’ll be here, okay? Whenever you’re ready.” 

Remus’ blinks became sticky with the moisture gathering along his eyelashes between the cold and the sleet quickly soaking him through the top of his jacket, leaving him damp on all sides. 

He was just about resigned to spending the entire night out here, perhaps being found by a rather smug Sirius or slightly less smug but no less pleased James covered in a thick layer of frost not unlike the heather bushes lining much of the landscape come morning when he felt a wet, warm nudge to his cheek.

He peeled his eyes open to see a small red fox standing above him with a curious tilt to its head.

“I’m fine to wait out here if that’s what you need, dove.” He assured you, shifting his head to look at you though never lifting it from his arms. “Don’t worry on my account.”

Your ears twitched again - towards something deep in the forest behind you - but you kept your eyes dutifully on him before pressing another boop to his cheek. 

“Ready to go inside?” He asked, daring to prop himself up on his elbows. A definitive yipping sound told him yes, you were. 

Remus finally moved to stand, hip cracking audibly though he kept his face painfully neutral so as not to have you feeling inadvertently guilty. Remus thought he probably deserved to spend more time on the cold wet ground for the way he spoke to you.

“Hope this doesn’t mean you’ve gone and forgiven me yet, Vix.” He declared sternly, bending slightly to pick you up when you stood on your hind legs to press gentle paws into his thigh. “I have much more grovelling to do.”

You made a fox-like laughing sound before shoving your nose into his neck, nuzzling closer to him in as much of a hug as a fox could manage. 

“And if Sirius or James ever spoke to you that way, I’d expect you to leave them begging for days.”

[crossdressingdeath]

You know what the most frustrating thing about DAV criticism is at the moment? It's that I do in fact have criticisms. Quite a few, actually. It's a Bioware game, of course I have criticisms. No one I've spoken to or whose posts I've seen thinks it's perfect or above criticism. But the thing is, I—and I imagine a lot of other firmly positive blogs—know that if I share any of those criticisms, if I make posts discussing them and talk about the game's flaws, I will immediately be inundated by people using those complaints to insist that the whole game is garbage and the writing is bad and Bioware's a terrible studio who can't make good games and DAI (of all fucking games) was so much better and blah blah blah blah. I know that because it's happened every goddamn time I've made a less-than-positive post about DAV. And I don't have the energy to deal with that! The endless stream of bad faith criticism wears me down and having to constantly stop to defend a game I like when I'm trying to discuss its flaws because if I don't (and frankly half the time even if I do) people will use my posts to claim the whole game is garbage is exhausting, and fandom is supposed to be fun. So I can't discuss DAV's flaws on tumblr if I want to avoid that, and it is infuriating. I see people bitching about toxic positivity and people refusing to acknowledge the game's flaws, and I really want those people to take a second to consider: do the game's fans ignore its flaws and refuse to accept that anything about it is bad? Or have you created an environment that is so toxic that no one who likes the game wants to risk getting your attention by mentioning what's bad about it and they respond more aggressively than is warranted to even genuine critique in an attempt to ward you off? Because there will always be assholes who claim that genuine problems are Fine, Actually, Stop Being Such A Baby... but if people can't address the game's flaws in public without immediately getting dragged into five different arguments about how it is in fact ultimately a really solid game, they're not going to do it no matter how much they recognise those flaws.

[crows4luna]

1,434 words. mature, explicit content ahead. reader is afab, no gendered pronouns used. first time body worship. nipple play. lots of groping because sylus is captivated seeing his beloved naked for the first time. | much thanks to @tbaluver @d4wnbreaker @ivohex for beta reading <3

“Don’t look.”—you huff, puffing your cheeks as you hesitate, hands clenched around your shirt bunched up around your midsection—“Not yet, at least.”

Your lover emits a playful chuckle, “Anything for you, sweetie.”

A few feet across from you was Sylus, happily relaxed as he sat on the edge of his lavish bed. Both of his hands were clasped over his eyes, as per your request. While you two were no stranger to more fleeting, intimate exchanges, your apprehension towards taking anything further was what held you both back from going full circle.

The miraculous part of it was that Sylus had no problem being patient. He didn’t bat an eye, nor did his jaw clench. He accepted it like it was something as simple as acknowledging the sky was blue.

That’s also the part that scared you the most.

It was a strange, foreign thing. Men were greedy, voracious animals, and with your career, you’ve dealt with plenty of them who were… interesting caricatures. Some worse than others, of course. And even though you covered yourself shoulder to toe on a day-to-day basis, you still hated being ogled at. Hated the gnawing anxiety that you were being mentally undressed and you didn’t even know it.

But Sylus helped you combat a lot of things. There was no pressure from his end to be as prudish as he was, flaunting his figure comfortably. It was his nature (his own words). He was used to it, and when it comes to you, he has no problem being his most comfortable self.

Finally, your shirt hits the ground. You bristle at the cold air pinching your bare back, shivering. You don’t want to delay this anymore than you have to.

Quickly, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your waffle-knit shorts, tugging it down. The only thing clinging to your body now was a simple pair of cotton panties. A pair that descends from a cheap pack you bought some months ago. It was a slightly darker shade of maroon, a little brighter than the muted shades accented all over Sylus’ main base.

Dwindling anxiety courses through your veins, almost like a replacement of your blood. You lift your arms to cover your breasts, gritting your teeth before letting out a deep breath to ease yourself.

“...Okay,” you finally say. “You can look now.”

Sylus lowers his hands.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes widen slightly in fascination, taking in the sight of your back. He observes the slight curve of it, then the way your hips naturally fill out, and the downward expanse of your thighs to your legs. A light smirk curls at the corner of his mouth, leaning forward a little to rest his forearms on his thighs.

“A breathtaking sight before my own eyes,” he muses. “You’re stunning, baby.”

You let out a stifled noise, unintelligible of any comprehensible emotion. You were getting flustered. More than you ever have before.

“You’re—only staring at my backside.”

“And I’m not complaining if this is all you’ll show me.”

His tone shifts from his teasing drawl to something smoother, comforting, “If this is as far as you want to go, then it’s alright with me. Don’t feel pressured to keep going just to please me.”

You stiffen a little, sighing, “I want to. Believe me, I… want this. I want to please you. It’s only fair.”

The shakiness in your voice begs to differ. Sylus raises a brow, lifting a hand to tap his bottom lip contemplatively. He knows you well—and one of your standout traits is that you’re stubborn as all hell.

He fixates on the shaky foundation for which you plead with him. Despite it all, he knows you’re being sincere. He just doesn’t want to scare you.

Sylus sighs, relenting, “Alright then. But I want to remind you that it’s your call. Always.”

“...Thank you.”

With an easing state of mind, you finally turn. It’s deliberately slow, but you feel comfortable as your eyes meet your partner’s. His gaze is ever captivating. The very same one used to intimidate and bend others at will—but it’s those eyes that welcome the sight of you like home. You can make out the subtle tenderness that extends to his adoration for you.

You allow him to take in the sight of you, now face-to-face. It’s not long before a blush slowly warms your complexion, standing out in the dim aura of the room. The moment Sylus smiles, you feel yourself tensing again.

He chuckles, his voice returning to a low drawl, “Are you getting shy?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

The former stands, moving over to you in one stride considering the short distance and his stature. Resting his hands on his hips, he carefully circles your figure, observing you again—slower. Once he settles into a spot standing right behind you, you feel the curve of his palm sliding along your shoulder, up around your throat.

Sylus leans forward, lips barely grazing your ear, “Do you want this?”

A nod.

“...Yes,” you moan out softly, the sound a mere whisper. You gasp as his strong torso presses to your back, continuing your permission, “Yes—I—fuck… I want you, Sylus. I need you.”

This time, he lifts his arms to embrace you from behind. Tufts of white hair tickle your skin as he lowers his head to mouth the side of your neck. His lips latch on, beginning to leave feather-light kisses, descending a trail. It’s enough to invigorate you, making you more pliant in his arms.

His hands find yours, still covering your breasts. He massages the back of them, gentle in his grasp.

“Do you—”

You can’t take this anymore. You’re desperate, near the verge of tears as you whimper, “Yes—yes, yes. Gods, Sylus. Fuck. Please, you don’t—have to ask anymore.”

His deep laugh reverberates against the juncture between your neck and shoulder, sending chills down your spine.

“I’d be cruel to not ask,” he punctuates with a kiss. “It’s only fair.

“And… I want to be fair to you, always. Which means asking for your permission, before I may do as I please. Before I fully relish in you the way I dream of.”

A kiss to the area beneath your ear, then a soft tug of your lobe between his teeth. He soothes it with another kiss, whispering, “I intend to relish in you in the best way, as you deserve. As long as you’ll have me.”

You’re at more peace than you can ever imagine. No longer does the cold of his bedroom perplex you, as his words are carried by what feels like an undertone of a trance.

You let down your arms—and instantly, Sylus’ hands occupy the space they once did. His palms, calloused yet smooth with neverending warmth, cup your breasts. Your back arches, and as his fingers pinch and flick your nipples, it elicits boundless moans from you.

To him, it’s probably the most beautiful sound he’s heard, and Sylus groans in anticipation of the symphony he could create.

You whine as he suddenly shifts his grip, lifting you into his arms with ease to drop you onto the bed. He resumes the position you were both once in, turning you to lay on your side as his torso presses to your backside again. You intake a sharp breath, goosebumps dancing along your flesh as it prepares to embrace your lover’s warmth again.

His palms once more resume their squeeze on your breasts, as his lips work to leave a mark on the back of your neck. He takes his time, ensuring the sensuality and its intimate burn is the same as his lips trail down your skin. All you can do in turn is writhe and grind back into him, delivering a delicious mantra of sounds that only tightens the growing bulge behind his trousers.

“Sylus…”

“Mmh… just stay still for me.”

You roll over to lay flat on your stomach, grabbing one of the strewn pillows and hugging it tight. Sylus beams at this, slipping a noise that tethers between a groan and a growl. His palms leave your breasts, keeping a firm pressure as they slither down your stomach, anchoring into the shape of your hips. He kneads the flesh, bolder in his movements as he tongues the dip of your spine, occasionally moving back up, sideways, then downward again.

It’s an honor, he thinks. To be able to devour you like this.

The only one who will sink his teeth into your skin.

[annabelle--cane]

I really appreciate how level headed you are about the reputation TMA fandom has. Something I realized reading through your analysis is I think part of the problem was the TMA fandom was a uniquely awkward size during/after the blow up in that it was big enough to have a medium sized 1% of people who were being a problem but it wasn't big enough that you could avoid them without putting a lot of effort into it. (probably this isn't how math/percentages work but it is something i think about because, personally i've been in a massive fandom with a notoriously problematic 1% and. they sure did cause big loud problems very publicly. But it wasn't actually that hard to avoid them in day to day fandom activities. Whereas with TMA yeah there just really was a feeling of not being able to get away from each other)

ooh I think you are bang on the money with that one. it felt like I was always two degrees of separation away from someone who wanted to have me hanged drawn and quartered, even if my personal circle was quite well curated.

[midnight-sodium]

it doesnt stop at indigo child and starseed bs. i didnt have any of that growing up, but what i did get was my teacher seeing my emotionally traumatized 5 year old dissociating in class and told my mom "<deadname> is so connected to other worlds, he really can see things others can't". and my mom went "oh yeah we have called him a changeling his entire life. he's really a faerie in a human body."

this continues today, when im 30-fucking-1, from a woman who told me "i hope you just have a brain injury instead of autism, at least a bi can be healed from at all." when i confided in her my struggles to get an autism diagnosis as a 24 year old.

and this shit gets adults too. i called my developing dissociative disorder a walk-in experience because my parents wouldn't acknowledge that i have a critical problem in my brain because of them.

new age shit poisons people, takes away their autonomy, cruelly takes advantage of desperate, traumatized, completely alone people of any gender, and does so gleefully.

I’m taking the words “cortisol,” “dopamine addiction” and “vagus nerve reset” away from marketers and influencers and putting them on a shelf.

[cripplecharacters]

In a sci-fi story I am writing, a character suffers heatstroke. He survives but sustains some brain damage, for the second time in his life. He is shown to have some memory issues, and a loss of coordination. In the setting, there is technology available to help heal this, but due to plot reasons, he cannot access them. When he eventually does, it heals some of his nerve damage and helps with his chronic pain, but it doesn't get rid of the damage entirely, and he still greatly benefits from mobility aids and memory accomodations. I know that the "character heals their disability" plot is ableist, so I am trying to avoid that. Do you think I need to revise this character?

Hi! I don't see a problem with this - characters healing their disability as a trope is more of a problem when it comes to completely healing. When it comes to symptoms lessening or being adjusted, it's easier to think of it like someone getting an aid or a surgery - it's a way that the damage can be helped and mitigated but not erasing that it was ever there and making the character "abled" again.

Overall I really do like how this character sounds and am excited to see how it works! I also like the acknowledgment in the story that aids and surgeries as well as medications can be inaccessible for most people. Best of luck and sorry for the late reply! - Mod Bert

[velvetvexations]

the thing about socialization + the idea that testosterone/passing/coming out or whatever else people have decided trans men should stop doing is "the thing that makes them an Evil Man becuase the Evil Man Rays are seeping into their unsuspecting heads, but they're even worse because they 'got to' grow up afab and that gives them 'female privilege'" reminds me of something ive seen some people do.

ive met quite a few people who consider themselves academic types and are, on paper, anti-racist. they can and will state that one's race has no bearing on their mental and moral capacities, and they find all the racist scientology things bs. however, when confronted with the 'problem' of actually interacting with nonwhite people (especially in contexts of trust, relationships, and gauging skill) they spew textbook racist rhetoric and then cover it up with "well, ii don't think their skin color has anything to do with it, but im sure that growing up in a Certain Disadvantaged Environment does things to you that makes you less trustworthy/stupider."

and it's a whole shitload of baggage when it comes to nature vs nurture arguments, and i guess i can't prove nor disprove the existence of the invisble force begotten from a specific upbringing that creates all those Evil People we love talking about, but actually my point is this: i don't think it matters to the people they're talking about. if someone flings stereotypes at me but tries to undercut it with "well i'm not saying that because of your'e [ethnicity im not sharing], that's silly. i just think that about you because if the way i think Society has treated you" funnily enough, im not going to care that much. they're not getting extra credit for that

and that's why in all this im like OF COURSE 'tmes' (by which both they and i mean afab trans people and sometimes intersex people) are upset! youre telling me that this group of people, whom we can reasonably assume were not comfortably out from a young age, have dealt with this society's bullshit when it comes to being percieved as a woman...and they're mad about being called basic, whiny, overreactive, stupider on average, soft, and liars about their oppression? man, i'd think so! i'd hope so! i wonder where they might have heard that before!

that's where all the insistence about reading theory (which by the way, a lot of us have!) falls flat on its face. anyone, 'tme' or 'tma' repeating their transphobic arguments have encountered a fundamental failure in how to interact with a group of people with baggage. this is necessary context and i feel insane becuase it's almost never acknowledged, we're just supposed to pretend that transmasc people were never trans? and those who bring it up are 'cligning onto femininity?'

i feel like that's also why we've had so many people say "they sound like terfs." i myself am not really comfortable with the comparison, but to tell someone that they have terf-ish talking points is, i think, not the end of the world. because i thought we determined a long time ago that the problem is the people, the terfs, it's that bs that they believe. and to spout the exact same things while claiming that "well, but im saying it for a different reason! im not arguing that all people i think do gender wrong should die because im a terf, i do it for Enlightened reasons!" again, no extra credit.

yeah but other people read "trans people AFAB have dealt with misogyny all their lives and continue to deal with it" as "trans women have a lesser relationship to misogyny" like bitch dat's a whole new sentence! DAT'S A WHOLE NEW SENTENCE!

[alrascala]

#something something that post about the difference between what you want to do as an ape versus what you know is right as a human#vimes is the poster boy for that and i think that's one thing that makes him so big as a character in the series#he always acknowledges the ''burn them to the fucking ground'' rage of dealing with terrible things that speaks to all of us at heart#but then shows us how to set it aside to do what is morally right in spite of what you feel like they deserve#it doesn't matter how awful and evil and cruel carcer is - vimes *does not get to kill him* because he does not have the right#to decide in the darkness and in anger that someone should die - he hands him over to be judged by the people#he still falls into the ''punishment = justice'' problem but that reflects the setting (and i suspect sir terry's views at the time#considering that later we see moist as an example of restorative justice. but i digress.)#vimes endures as a character because he *feels* the first quote but *acts on* the second#anyway.#discworld#gnu terry pratchett

You scum, you rat-sucking little worm eaters! You headsdown little scurriers in the dark! What did you bring to my city? What were you thinking? Did you want the deep-downers here? Did you dare deplore what Hamcrusher said, all that bile and ancient lies? Or did you say ‘Well, I don’t agree with him, of course, but he’s got a point’? Did you say, ‘Oh he goes too far but it’s about time somebody said it’? And now, have you come here to wring your hands and say how dreadful, it was nothing to do with you? Who were the dwarfs in the mobs, then? Aren’t you community leaders? Were you leading them? And why are you here now, you ugly snivelling grubbers? Is it possible, is it possible, that now, after that bastard’s bodyguards tried to kill my family, you’re here to complain? Have I broken some code, trodden on some ancient toe? To hell with it. To hell with you.

-- Terry Pratchett - Thud!

[nickrocketrodriguez]

As part of a writer room, since it's a collective work, do you sometimes have to put aside your "real" self from your "writer" self? The wording is horrendous, but for example, when it comes to shipping, you like the trope of a certain ship and would like for them to happen, but as a writer you know that it wouldn't actually make sense for the characters? It just seems so hard to me to have dicern "good" ideas from selfish baseless wishes so I wonder how it's managed in a writer room.

Ooooh, a craft question! I love these.

So, basically, yeah, you DO have to set aside what you want from what is right for the story, because those are often not aligned. At the end of the day, if the Nublar Six were real people, I want them to all be happy and healthy and live conflict-free until forever. But that's not good story.

When you're in the room trying to tell the most interesting and meaningful/emotionally resonant story for these people, you can't do what you want with them -- you have to do what the story demands thematically. That's why we have writers rooms: we're constantly discussing not only what's cool, but what makes sense, both logically and emotionally. Thankfully for our room, we were all very aligned with what we thought the story was from the very beginning. There definitely some pitches I fought for that maybe weren't right for the show and we more based in what I wanted to have happen -- but that's part of the job. Discerning between ideas you like and ideas that make sense and ideas that make sense but are also surprising is a very tough muscle to work out, but that's all it is -- a muscle. That's why a good writers room will have long discussions about practically every choice to see if it actually works and means something for the story and the characters. It's also my favorite part of the process. And I like to think I only got better at this throughout our time in the room together, and that I'm continuing to get better at this on the new show I'm on.

Philosophically, I believe that, VERY often, what we want to see happen in stories are and what should happen in them are complete opposites. We don't necessarily want our favorite characters to be in conflict and find opposition -- but the problem is that without all of that, the characters don't shine their brightest or learn their lessons, and therefore neither does the audience. It's something that I wish chronically online fandoms would understand better so that they don't turn around and throw hate at people who are trying to tell good stories. Like, trust me, you don't want an entire episode where the characters just talk and laugh and have a fun little barbecue with their dinosaur friends. You'd be bored to fucking tears and your favorite characters wouldn't be people, they'd just be... I dunno, cardboard cutouts of the ideas of people.

Maybe it's not even about separating the two sides of yourself, but about acknowledging both sides within the scope that stories are not just a series of cool or nice events. Stories all come down to conflict, especially conflict between people, and the puzzle of writing a show is determining which conflicts mean the most and allow for emotional reactions and revelations, etc. If you're just watching the show for the dinosaurs (and I know some do), then you're missing out on all of the more important aspects of the story that was being told.

I think I got a little off-track there, but thanks for coming to my TEDTalk.

[ara-arachan]

Honestly, I really don't like when people call Reigen "just a regular guy". Because he isn't that regular at all. Well, to me, at least.

He's extremely social, he has a lot of skills, he's smart, he's creative, he's kind. He always knows how to solve problems. He listens to people, and, most importantly, he helps them. He's wise, he's realistic, he's funny, he's open-minded, and he's scared but he often takes the risks. For himself, for Mob, and for everyone else. Also, yes, he loves his student and is ready to put himself in danger just to save him (friendly reminder that he was ready to die during the Confession arc, and even took his shoes off, which is very common for Japanese people to do before committing suicide). I really don't think your typical regular guy would do that.

Maybe he seems like he isn't special because of his lack of psychic powers, but isn't it quite unusual that he doesn't even want any to begin with? Reigen was never jealous of Mob or any other ESPer, even though, logically, he should be since it's very useful for his business. Yet he isn't. When Mob shared powers with him, Reigen didn't really care. He acknowledged these were Mob's instead of thinking that he suddenly got awakened, then kicked villains' asses, and that's it. Never even mentioned any of that after (if we exclude the book situation).

It's very fascinating how Mob, the most powerful (modern) psychic, lives a regular life, while Reigen, someone who doesn't possess any type of powers at all, is seen as someone eccentric. And, well, of course Reigen does have common adult problems, but it's the way he deals with them what makes him different. Or so I think.

No matter what your opinion on Reigen is, it's out of the question that his relationships with Mob are absolutely beautiful. Both of them complement each other perfectly, two lonely souls finding solace in one another, rejected — though temporarily — by society just to have peace in the inner worlds: Mob in Reigen's, and Reigen in Mob's.

[b4ssbr3aker]

“Most of the CaitVi antis are homophobes”

If their problem is really mainly because they’re a lesbian couple and they don’t think twice about any other valid critiques out there, mainly just using them to “seem legit” then yeah.

But a significant portion are queer/sapphic ppl with trauma from past lesbian relationships and seeing this inherent power imbalance, emotional abuse and physical abuse always being perpetrated from one side of the relationship play out in front of us and it being portrayed visually and promoted as a good relationship and something to emulate in our own relationships, makes us feel sick to the stomach to say the least.

Especially when taken into consideration Queer people’s history and present lives with law enforcement, along with how the issues of domestic violence within the lesbian community go massively unaddressed due to the stigmatising dismissal of “Oh they’re just being the crazy lesbians they are, they’ll work things out and make up afterwards” which is lesbophobia and misogyny going hand in hand.

“Lesbian rep in media doesn’t all have to be picture perfect because Lesbian relationships are complex just like straight relationships are”

I agree, as long as it is acknowledged and communicated that it is not something to aspire to, now you have baby gays who think someone like Caitlyn Kirramman is someone they should look at being an “ideal femme”.

Caitlyn has proven throughout season 2 alone that she is nowhere near what a femme actually is. She is a fem, not a femme.

Stop misconstruing the complexity of what a femme lesbian is. As I’ve said before, femmes use their gender-conforming appearance to love and protect butches and studs in all aspects. Always has been and always will be, so stop minimising it to mean what fem means, fem lesbians being just lesbians who dress traditionally feminine.

[kiera-raelyn]

I love this idea. So much angst! So much tension! Such a hard journey for everyone involved.

From a writer's perspective, I think it would be really difficult to pull off if a happy ending is the goal. Not impossible, certainly. But for it to be realistic, rather than trite, you would need a really strong grasp of psychology. There are a lot of heavy issues to juggle here. It seems like it would need to be one of those epic length fics to be able to really dig down into all of it. I do not think I have the technical skill nor prerequisite knowledge to execute it properly, unfortunately.

I've got a hc for it already, though. I see the kid running away to Hakoda in the SWT at some point, probably as a 16-yr old (the thematic mirroring with Zuko! He goes to the SWT to meet his destiny and try to regain his place as heir while his son goes there to escape it - poetic!). And Hakoda has a Gramma Tala (from Moana) moment where he listens to the kid and validates him. And when Zuko and Katara show up, they all have a chat and abdication is acknowledged as an option. But the firebending sister bursts in (because eavesdropping and sneakiness is a family trait. on both sides) and is like "the fuck you say?! No!" because she loves her older brother and thinks he would make an excellent firelord actually and no he can't abdicate. And maybe if Dad hadn't outlawed Agni Kais for minors, there would be less of this stupid talk from the Fire Council because she she would've beat everyone down by now for insulting her brother.

I just want to see them all love and support each other unconditionally, y'know? And no, that doesn't magically fix all their problems, but it makes them so much easier to get through.

Zutara’s Son

“Try it on son, it will be yours one day”-Zuko

Ok so I know most people want the firstborn steambaby to be a girl firebender but hear me out, imagine the plot. Zuko struggles forming a father-son relationship with his waterbending son, who has a hard time trying to accept that he will be the next firelord. The fire nation wants to override his birthright and make his younger firebending sister the heir to the throne. This all leads him to be ashamed of his abilities and only use waterbending in secret. Zuko must teach him there is more to being firelord than awesome displays of power, all the while forming their bond as father and son. Katara must show him the beauty and strength of waterbending and to embrace it. Finally, he must prove his worth as a future leader of the fire nation to his people.

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience 3

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 3rd snippet. Officiator found, Adar and Celebrimbor get right down to business and get wed in the uruk camp. However, there is an unforseen hurdle. Celebrimbor ends up being the voice of reason this time around – with unexpectedly nice consequences. (aka, a kiss)

I feel like my muse has lured me in with candy (the political marriage AU idea) and is now holding me captive (making me write more snippets). Not like I have like. 20 ideas in my ideas folder and two other WIPs open or anything like that. Nuh-uh. I feel like I have gotten completely blindsided but – I am having an absolute blast so far?! Let’s see how far this wave will carry me, shall we?

(Also a big huge Thank You to everyone who has commented and liked and reblogged and sent me messages about these snippets, it’s been an absolute delight and I partly credit your lovely encouragement with why I have gotten so invested in this.)

They got through the 'ceremony' much better than Celebrimbor had expected. Between Galadriel's lingering reluctance and their shared lack of in-depth knowledge on how elven marriages were to be officiated, it had taken them a while to work out all the details (Adar had helped out in that regard, to both Celebrimbor’s and Galadriel’s surprise) – and then one of the uruk had demanded the two husbands-to-be add some words that included Adar's children and the marriage's legitimacy among them into the vows.

Safe to say, trying to get Galadriel and the uruk - Glug, if Celebrimbor was not mistaken - to settle down after this had been a bit of a hassle.

But still, they got through it - without cussing, without bloodshed, without attempts on one of the grooms' lives (Celebrimbor was considering Galadriel with newfound respect as he acknowledged that particular feat), and so the smith would count the proceedings as a victory. He'd had very few of those in the last few weeks, and would take it for what it was.

However, when it came to the end of the wedding ceremony, another problem arose:

"No," Adar flatly stated. It caused Celebrimbor to blink in surprise, and Galadriel to glare at the uruk from where she stood next to the two future husbands. Adar's face had hardened into a grimace of disapproval. "There must be a way to circumvent this."

What he was talking about was, of course, the part during which he and Celebrimbor were meant to kiss to seal the marriage. It was a common practice, not just among elves but men and dwarves as well. That Adar either hadn't anticipated it, or would now make such a fuss about it after having championed a political marriage as their primary option of cooperation, was baffling, to say the least.

Celebrimbor knit his eyebrows in confusion, even as Galadriel spoke. "Orc- Uruk. You pushed for this to take place, you cannot possibly think to stop now when we have almost reached an accord and bound the two of you-"

"I will not kiss him," Adar replied. This time, there was steel in his voice. "He accepted a political marriage, not one of passion. He clearly does not want to kiss me. I will not force him into it."

Judging by Galadriel's resulting look, she was taken just as off-guard by Adar's words and the smith was.

Coupled with Adar's strained expression, Celebrimbor couldn't help but feel warm at the other's objections.

The uruk had told him he wouldn't touch Celebrimbor without permission, that he would not force him. This had clearly been important to him, even before he'd fetched Galadriel. That it went so far as to include a kiss to seal their arrangement was doing something to Celebrimbor's stomach, and made him feel unexpectedly safe. Confident, even.

He could see that Galadriel and Adar were ready to get into yet another spat, so the smith stepped forward and slowly – very slowly – raised his hands to Adar's face.

The uruk briefly startled, surprised at the elf's brazen gesture, and it took him some obvious effort to untense again. Still, when Celebrimbor brought his hands up to the his cheeks, the uruk did not withdraw.

The feel of Adar's rough, scarred skin under Celebrimbor's fingertips sent a shock through the smith. The other was warmer than he had expected.

Up this close, Adar had green-blue eyes. And they were so completely focused on the smith that it almost stole his the air from his lungs.

"Adar," he tried, and could have sworn that the other had sucked in a breath as he spoke the uruk's name. "You were right, this arrangement is our best chance to avoid a bloody, gruesome war that would claim the lives of countless people – those of my fellow elves, and your children," he spoke back the uruk's words at him, as if reminding him.

"I trust you not to betray this alliance, and I trust you not to hurt me. You haven't so far. I allow you to-," it wouldn't help his case if his words failed him now. "To kiss me. It is part of the ceremony. It will take but a moment. I am allowing you to do this. Maybe neither of us has a desire for it, but, it is no hardship if done for a lasting peace."

Adar looked torn, mouth pinched and eyebrows furrowed, as he stared at Celebrimbor.

The smith tried again. "If you are holding back only for my sake, you do not have to. Truly. Though if it is because you are having second thoughts-"

"That is not it," the uruk spoke, voice brash, and he needed a moment reign himself in again. Celebrimbor waited with bated breath – his fingers still rested on Adar's cheeks, and the uruk hadn't even made an attempt to grab them or shake them away from his body. "I said I would not force you."

"You are not forcing me," Celebrimbor disputed, and leant closer. He could see Adar's eyes widen as he almost touched their foreheads together. The way the uruk’s mouth unconsciously opened made Celebrimbor feel even warmer, and he pressed forward with his words. "I could imagine far worse choices for a marriage, or even a kiss. You needn't fear for my comfort."

Granted, not exactly the most elegant thing to say to a man who would soon be bound to his side and commandeer a huge, deadly army straight towards Ost-In-Edhil, but it was the best Celebrimbor could come up with – without obviously lying, or giving away how the the thought of kissing Adar did in fact at least stirr something within him. A little.

He'd never just been interested in elves as potential partners, but he'd never thought he'd find himself in the position of kissing an orc- er, uruk.

Nor that he'd be even remotely interested in wanting to.

It was, indeed, a very strange day.

Maybe some of his thoughts had shown on his face, or perhaps his shoddy attempt of making Adar feel at peace had done some good after all, but the uruk eventually dropped his strained expression and exchanged it for a slightly guarded, but more relieved one. He nodded. "If you are sure."

"Surest I will be, considering the circumstances," Celebrimbor said with a tiny laugh, before he sobered again. "Apologies. But yes, I am sure. You may kiss me. Let us do this."

Somehow, his words did the trick, because when the smith leant forward, Adar did the same.

At the edge of his awareness, Celebrimbor could hear Galadriel gasp and the uruk guards make noises of disgust as they – very loudly – turned away from the proceedings.

But all that seemed to fall away when compared to the feeling of touching his lips to Adar's. It was a chaste kiss, just a press of lips really, but it was...surprisingly nice. Adar's lips were softer than Celebrimbor had expected, slightly parted and as warm as his cheeks.

Their noses brushed as the two moved closer together, and after a moment, there was a gauntleted hand on Celebrimbor's shoulder as Adar tried to balance himself. And soon after that, a second hand – slow and cautious – grasped his elbow.

Physical contact, yes, but it was done in such a considerate and respectful way that Celebrimbor hadn't seen it coming. He felt his belly quiver once more, this time more strongly than when he'd first considered what touching Adar might be like. It was hard, not to lean fully into the kiss – into the uruk – and just sink into the touch like he would into a hot bath.

When Adar drew away from the kiss, Celebrimbor realized with a start that he'd closed his eyes some time during it. Judging by how Adar had to reorient himself, he'd likely had the same happen as well.

'Huh,' the smith thought, and followed Adar's example as they untangled their hands from each other. Adar even brushed down the smith's robe before he retracted his hand from Celebrimbor’s elbow, while the elf couldn't help letting his hand touch Adar's hair as he dropped his arms.

It, too, was unexpectedly soft.

Flustered, he turned to Galadriel, ready to have her announce the marriage as officiated.

And felt the need to avert his gaze at the near scandalized, wide-eyed way Galadriel was looking at him, mouth open and all.

'Why isn't Elrond here to witness this? I thought there was absolutely no way to turn Galadriel of the Golden House of Finarfin speechless. He surely won't believe me when I tell him,' Celebrimbor thought, just a touch hysterical.

"That should be it, right? The wedding has been performed," Adar stated. He was once again standing next to the large table in the center of the tent, ready to down another glass of wine. Celebrimbor couldn't help thinking that so much wine before a battle could not be a good idea, but who knew what kind of a tolerance the uruk had.

Truth be told, Celebrimbor could probably use a glass himself, all things considered.

When Adar offered him one unexpectedly a moment later, the smith took it with a surprised but pleased expression, and thanked the other for it. Adar dismissed it, though not unkindly.

Finally, Galadriel found her voice again. Not without a sputter at first, however.

"You are right. You are now bound together. It...it is done."

"Well then. Cheers," was Celebrimbor’s reply to that, stated drily, before he downed his glass. Not the kind of wedding he'd imagined for himself, but well. At least he didn't have to invite Thranduil. That had to count for something, right?

[tfs-syscourse]

10 lukewarm syscourse takes

from someone who just briefly scrolls the tag from time to time:

1. Labels are only as helpful as they are, well, helpful.

If calling yourself something feels right, that’s great. Fixating on fitting into the labels, however, isn’t.

The labels are there for you to define & communicate your experiences, not boxes for you to cram yourself into.

2. Innerworlds are not a separate physical realm, but they may present that way to a system.

Not all systems are going to have one. Some have to put effort into creating one, if they want/need it. Some systems have very vivid & complex innerworlds.

Innerworlds are a healthy form of dissociation when utilized as such. What’s considered a “healthy” amount of focus on the innerworld will vary from system to system. For some, it could be none at all.

3. This one is very much just an opinion— I don’t believe anyone should invite outsiders into the creation of their system/innerworld. (Ex. Alter packs, innerworld packs, etc.)

If these are things that are going to be parts of your brain, I believe it’s worth thinking over the pieces.

4. Fusion is a good thing, so is functional multiplicity, and the two aren’t mutually exclusive.

We’re personally aiming for functional multiplicity, but are hoping for some fusions as well. Which works better, or the proper balance between fusion & multiplicity, will differ per system.

Demonizing fusion is harmful.

5. Calling out “fakers” is useless.

I know someone who mistakenly thought they had a CDD. Through support & professional help, they came to the conclusion that they were wrong, but they now have a deeper understanding of themself & of dissociative disorders. This person wasn’t “faking it”. They did have mental health issues and problems with identity/dissociation that needed to be addressed. They just turned out not to have a CDD. (This is why professional insight can be useful.)

If someone is truly intending to fake having a CDD or being a system, they’ll get bored of it eventually. Feeding into them (ex. trying to call them out) will only make it “more fun”.

6. Having a CDD vs. not having a CDD is different. CDD systems are not the same as non-CDD systems.

Even if there’s overlap, they are not the same thing.

CDD systems and non-CDD systems can and should have spaces where they interact. I think it’s important to acknowledge that a CDD system will work differently than a non-CDD system while doing so, though.

7. Telling systems what “can’t” happen within their system really doesn’t help anything.

How would anyone but the system experiencing it know? To an extent, the only limit is the bounds of a system’s imagination. Maybe it doesn’t work that way for one system, but it does for another.

Note: Sometimes it is necessary to say that some things are simply not possible, and the belief that they are can cause harm. (Ex. The idea of someone in one system jumping into another person’s system.)

8. The misinformation spread about in online system spaces, presented as scientific fact, is concerning.

CDDs are understudied, and the internal systemhood aspect of them even more so. Non-disordered systemhood, barely studied at all.

Sometimes, the answer is “there hasn’t been enough/any research on this yet”, and we as a community need to learn to be okay with that.

On the other hand, dismissing the studies that have been done, or twisting them to fit a narrative (ex. claiming CDDs are not trauma-based disorders) is just as bad, if not worse.

9. Nuance is necessary.

Existing in online system spaces should not require “picking a side”.

I think syscourse would be a kinder and more productive topic without an “anti” and “pro” dichotomy.

10. Walking away can be best.

These are niche online spaces— anyone can leave them. If syscourse is genuinely affecting someone’s mental health, the way to deal with that is by leaving syscourse for a while. It’s okay to take a break.

Personally, I think it’s great to have no interaction with any online system content every once in a while.

That’s all for now 👋 Hope y’all are doing well and doing it with well-intentions.

[the-mpreg-guy]

the hill that i will die on is that cas would have never said he loved dean if he had to deal with the consequences of it afterwards, meanwhile dean (who was SUPPOSED to tell cas he loved him in the original crypt scene script) would have eventually worked up to saying it without external pressure

[trixxedheart]

It is amazing how the "people that love and uplift transwomen" website will instantly fucking maul a transwoman if she even remotely insinuate that using radfem rhetoric harms trans people